SENA DAGADU: Extra Large feat. M3NSA

As a sculpture

Doors and drawers as gate ways  
Into worlds with options 

I would shut my eyes to 
Keep from seeing as baring witness 

My mind would opt out from partaking 
A phrase set as escape clause 

Strings hold life like puppet play 
Attached to the handle of the drawer's grip 

And for each pull as command 
The status of I, move as puppet play 

I am as, Leonardo Da Vinci carved me 
Waiting on God to breathe life in me 

I am as surrealism from your imagination 
Drawn up by Salvador Dali  in dream state

Yet as I stand as empty drawers 
All t' pass folded and unfolded, are left en-trigged 

Sigmund Freud left sat perplexed 
Looking for my childhood story to define me 

Life's Joy

Light reflecting ray 

The sun smiles on the sea 

Shimmering life's joy  

Being whole is frowned upon

Being whole is frowned upon 
Like the sun showing its face 

To winter at dawn post-mature 
Staying late, until dusk  

A deal is a deal, let no man 
Enter the tavern tea-totaller 

Defeating the objective stand 
Of the  establishments' order 

I would have expected more 
From the priest, holy, holy oh thy holy 

But in times as these the dog colour
Comes off and in a sea of people 

On stampede of rage as free fall 
It is hard to tell who would notice 

The cliff before all goes tumbling down 
Let us all die blind, save your virtue   

Keep your innocence from view 
Being whole is frowned upon 

To Save Timbuktu

Is water worth more in the desert 
Than the bright diamonds that sparkle   

Crystal transparent particles, that flows 
The same, in need, in want, to have, to own 

In its perspective value enough to kill for 
In its desired richness to be had 

What of camels, yes camels 
Are camels worth more in the desert 

Than the stud bred for the grand national 
Dressage for Olympic gold medals 

Who would carry me to free Timbuktu 
To save those old manuscripts that holds my history 

A description of red

Spectrum of neighbours   

Orange and violet  nears 

Rubies rubies gem 

Protest Song; The change of guard

Has humanity made t' world less fun to play 
Do the trees chatter loud in protest songs 

Encouraged by the winds that blow  
With banner flags and protest songs 

With stones thrown to overthrow tyrants 
Burning effigies as ritual to the cause 

Has man made the world less fun to play 
Neighborly words shared by the others 

Species wandering if we as human 
Are more parasitic in being, to hunt 

Cannibalistic in emotions, to bully the weak 
Watching our young ones decline in dejection  

Quenching the internal light that enshrines joy 
Set deep in our core, blowing cold, cold and mean 

Has humanity made the world less fun to play 
Do the trees chatter loud in protest songs 

The bank of books

Books stocked, packed on shelves
Each word written by a beautiful mind 

Some as rich as the value of  true wealth 
Some as rare as the sight of a red emerald  

Some as records of events that was   
Some as fiction and some as law 

Some as print media dated 18 something 
Some before the time of the industrial age 

Some on sheepskin rolled round as scrolls  
Some for kids, poetry and music books   

Some by Darwin about the evolution of nature 
Some by Einstein on the theory of relativity 

Some by Shakespeare, said of Othello  
Some by  Wordsworth and some by Victor Hugo

This is the house the bank of books 
Where all of knowledge is kept stacked on shelves 

Pride of anchored wings

Delusion of wings 

Stretched out wide filling rooms 

But have no flight 

Mutombo Da Poet - I For Talk ft M3NSA

Poetry is a personal dairy laid open, bare to the world 
To the author an appreciation, to the listener a pleasure 

For Mutombo this is how he expresses his love, relationship and joy 
His battle to be noble and with global recognition for the art 

Most of us, though committed look for our source of flourish-ion  
Elsewhere dabbling in and out like frequent visitors with building pass 

But never residents without options and get out of jail free cards 
For that a hero is made of the guardians of the art 

And hence each time they commit and share a passage in their dairies 
We owe it to them to appreciate and recognise their sacrifice. 

I encourage all to listen and download free and share with friends 
An open dairy of a poet, a word to the other half 

I'm listening to Mutombo Da Poet - I For Talk ft M3NSA @Hulkshare:

I'm listening to utopia maybe @Hulkshare: