Freedom

Beauty truly shows up fully when engaged with unlimited movement.
Let that inner voice smoothly reflect the letters of this arrangement.
This is a new event for your amusement — I’ve made improvements to your recruitment.

Inducement to your spirit's ear holes; I’m free to move cold, forgiveness not included.

I’m a control freak on these white sheets; words free me deeply, now I’m complete.
At one with myself, neatly I’ll elaborate the quantum space that is my mindscape.
A grand escape when I set letters in places that nut-cases only find vacant.

Softly approach the destination, ancient meditation lost for generations.
Blatant statements and raw thoughts made sacred — play with each other here.

Humility seems silly to me — and you, true, but what else are you gonna do?
Stay in boxes and color the sky blue?

See me — I’ll paint that motha fucka green and splash in shades of redeeming qualities.
Folly is no longer a policy for me to believe in; breathe in the new ideas I’ve dreamed of.

Repetition is an addiction, but the metaphors repeat like flaps in a butterfly's wings.

For example: you read Trance Language and watched as I developed those pages.

Coin a term: Trance Lyricism —
Nothing more than a pendulum swing-swang swinging on through to you.

To question: What did this regular dude just prove?

Is it criticism, idealism, realism, heroism, egoism, spiritualism, or terrorism?
Funny — I can’t explain the reason for this flow that constructed gold in your mind.

No — I know what you want.
Lyrical acrobats that mirror classic rap form, to transform you.

So I warn you: you’re not equipped to handle the storm of my freed mind.
If I unleashed these rhymes in these lines, I’m sure to meet a firing line in the near time.
So I place this acid rap in a transition trap to have your mind attacked by the witness of Black.

You know what? I’ll give you what you want — pop the trunk and let the rhyme bump.
Debunk the rhythm into your systems and feel them bleed the wisdom that heals them.

Peel them with precision and make decisions that build the healing in.
Coast the road that toasts the show that lets you know this is not a joke.

Hypothetically, I’m the remedy for the suspending dreams that lurk with your enemies.
Witness as I present this testimonial indulgence of your moment — I’m the commander.

Bitch, this is Maisen Aleczander — yes, like the Great.

Hate the taste that I throw in your face; pace with the grace that I don’t waste words.
Mince meat, quick feet — hear me now, loud and proud.
Shroud yourself in delusions; the groove is a contusion to the illusions of this lyrical movement.
Have I repeated myself? Hell — I am wealth.

Rich in spirit, hear the remnants of continuous independence.
Dance in release — the spit that’s quick to force you to quit, split the image and make remembrance.

Spot the difference in the flow — let it go — I told you I breathe for control of the voice in the dome.

So I’m right at home in the zone; pen and paper been gone — freestyling off the dome.
That's the meaning of Trance Lyricalism — it’s been invented.

Yes, I’m a witness — repeated rhymes flip a dime, work it on my time.
My line in line with the best in time.

I wordplay so cleanly that a surgeon's handwashing is dirty in his dreams.

I’m in between the living and the deceased, pressed to invent peace.
Please allow me to explain that in a while — because baby. . .

I adore the way your mind soars when my fun lands at your door.