No matter the weather, I can count on J Dilla,
to soothe my mind, I know he will never Dither,
Disappoint, thus letting me down,
In a gloomy and glum December, in London town,
Instrumentals relax my inner being you see?
I become subdued with tranquillity,
Honestly, believe it or not, I leave this world,
Spiritually; to a place where Miss Pohitry can be heard,
Whispering gently, her voice massages my temples,
I resemble a mortar, Miss Pohitry the Pestle,
Grinding wisdom into my back muscles in small circles...
Yeah... Miss P.
Work on me...
Right there...
Yeah...
losing my fingers, intertwined in her Afro hair
To be continued....
Thanks for your time and joining me on this journey, find my top poems on the left, other parts and more on My Blog!
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