MO3

Bukowski Gingham

Written By: Phyllis Grant

Kneelin' among it, yeah he's a man lookin' past

the sum of 10,000 tragics mangled up in the mass

lathered, seethin' in smoke, torched, contorted in frame

Final blood for the 'pires (vamp), is this the last they can drain?

Claps the dust from his hands, holds 'em up over his head

Drawlin' out the last words that his mama had said

"You see, the violence at hand may be the violence you nurture,

don't you know anything son, about the balance of virtue?"

Deconstructin' the schemes, he was imprisioned by means

Set up by sorest of hearts who would unravel her dreams

"Can you hear me dear mother, inside the madness of this?

Do you still see how we suffer, would you find hope in this mess?

He could swear that a kiss had pass'd upon his cold cheek

Warmth and breath intermingled in a chaste, silent sweep

Closed his eyes like an infant carried up in her dream

Swayed like swimmin' in oceans through to rivers 'n' streams

See my arms reachin' out? I'm lookin' out for your freedom

I'm quiet and clean in Bukowski Gingham

Hold you tight to my heart, no competition for saintdom

Quiet and clean in Bukowski Gingham

See my arms reachin' out? I'm lookin' out for your freedom,

I'm quiet and clean in Bukowski Gingham

Hold you tight to my heart until you're feeling its rhythm,

Quiet and clean in Bukowski Gingham

He'd sense in this passin', perhaps a dawn he could stand

(for) in her prose she had stirred up subliminal plan

Amid her echoes soft-spoken, a small boy reminisced

How she'd adapt ancient legends through the black of her pen

Many times she would question, yeah, the goodness in men

Perplexed with what made 'em hurt what they can't understand

how in a second they'd switch from fear to who gives a ****

It was the strand in that second that she'd gather in love

'n' thread a needle of hope that she could sew in small ways

to reach the tattered, the worn-out, ripped-open and frayed

And when the images formed inside the broken-up glass

He focused in on the fragments that mighta mirrored his past

And thought that freedom of mind might equal freedom of choice

He could choose which shard would reflect his own voice

Truth began growing wild from indescribable sin

He rested up like a century -rugged healin' within

See my arms reached out?....

And it repelled each madness that tried to attack

There was no place for the clutches 'pon the thick of his back

Down in fields, up streets, over mountains, in gutters,

He'd hear a similar song, by one of many-a-mothers

Singin' "Hold your head high now, lift your eyes to the rain

No, don't you simmer in sadness, it only punctuates pain

Fulfill all that you are, may you feel all you deserve

From the stars I'm still watchin', gatherin' all that you've learned

All songs and instrumentals Copyright © Phyllis Grant

All songs and Instrumentals Registered with SOCAN

More lyrics at:
http://phyllisgrant.com/lyrics.html

Bukowski Gingham

Written By: Phyllis Grant (MO3)

See my arms reachin' out? I'm lookin' out for your freedom

I'm quiet and clean in Bukowski Gingham

Hold you tight to my heart, no competition for saintdom

Quiet and clean in Bukowski Gingham

See my arms reachin' out? I'm lookin' out for your freedom,

I'm quiet and clean in Bukowski Gingham

Hold you tight to my heart until you're feeling its rhythm,

Quiet and clean in Bukowski Gingham

Kneelin' among it, yeah he's a man lookin' past

the sum of 10,000 tragics mangled up in the mass

lathered, seethin' in smoke, torched, contorted in frame

Final blood for the 'pires (vamp), is this the last they can drain?

Claps the dust from his hands, holds 'em up over his head

Drawlin' out the last words that his mama had said

"You see, the violence at hand may be the violence you nurture,

don't you know anything son, about the balance of virtue?"

Deconstructin' the schemes, he was imprisioned by means

Set up by sorest of hearts who would unravel her dreams

"Can you hear me dear mother, inside the madness of this?

Do you still see how we suffer, would you find hope in this mess?

He could swear that a kiss had pass'd upon his cold cheek

Warmth and breath intermingled in a chaste, silent sweep

Closed his eyes like an infant carried up in her dream

Swayed like swimmin' in oceans through to rivers 'n' streams

See my arms reachin' out? I'm lookin' out for your freedom

I'm quiet and clean in Bukowski Gingham

Hold you tight to my heart, no competition for saintdom

Quiet and clean in Bukowski Gingham

See my arms reachin' out? I'm lookin' out for your freedom,

I'm quiet and clean in Bukowski Gingham

Hold you tight to my heart until you're feeling its rhythm,

Quiet and clean in Bukowski Gingham

He'd sense in this passin', perhaps a dawn he could stand

(for) in her prose she had stirred up subliminal plan

Amid her echoes soft-spoken, a small boy reminisced

How she'd adapt ancient legends through the black of her pen

Many times she would question, yeah, the goodness in men

Perplexed with what made 'em hurt what they can't understand

how in a second they'd switch from fear to who gives a ****

It was the strand in that second that she'd gather in love

'n' thread a needle of hope that she could sew in small ways

to reach the tattered, the worn-out, ripped-open and frayed

And when the images formed inside the broken-up glass

He focused in on the fragments that mighta mirrored his past

And thought that freedom of mind might equal freedom of choice

He could choose which shard would reflect his own voice

Truth began growing wild from indescribable sin

He rested up like a century -rugged healin' within

See my arms reached out?....

And it repelled each madness that tried to attack

There was no place for the clutches 'pon the thick of his back

Down in fields, up streets, over mountains, in gutters,

He'd hear a similar song, by one of many-a-mothers

Singin' "Hold your head high now, lift your eyes to the rain

No, don't you simmer in sadness, it only punctuates pain

Fulfill all that you are, may you feel all you deserve

From the stars I'm still watchin', gatherin' all that you've learned

All songs and instrumentals Copyright © Phyllis Grant

All songs and Instrumentals Registered with SOCAN

More lyrics at:
http://phyllisgrant.com/lyrics.html

Stars and Stones

Written By: MO3 (Phyllis Grant)

8. "Stars and Stones"

Choose to make everyday

a time to celebrate

He invites me on the track,

no time to hesitate

‘Cause my bro is my blood,

Catalyst for a flood

Of rhymes from a mother,

Navigatin' the suds

I expect no less than your

best-flow effort

Put your best foot forward,

or you’re just makin’ me suffer

Through an empty composition

‘bout your next of kin

Please Say what you mean,

Or just keep it all in

I really need to hear

'bout Who it is you Are,

Not how much money you make

Or the speed of your car

It takes more to fascinate

I'm on meticulous levels

M' ‘tention’s up, on, over

All this dizzyin' drivel

I'm bangin’ my head

Like a tortured James Dean

I'm a sooth-say-in' rebel,

Sans the Obvious Scheme

I like to think my notions

Are a clue to where we’re headin’

Trail-blazing a path for the

Ones who need Leadin’

And if I’ve got the strength

In knowin’ Who I AM

Then you can bet that

I’ll be doin’ it because I Can

I’m happy holdin’ it down

With my promise and plans

In collective agreement

Of the strongest of clans

No, we won't give up

And it's makin' 'em anxious

Cause we're dancin' with the Stars

And the Stones of the Ancients

No we won't let up

And they're losin' their patience

Cause we're dancin' with the Stars

And the Stones of the Ancients

I’m a feelin' the change,

And it’s a comin’ soon

Healed Nations awakened and

Beginnin’ to bloo' (m)

We’re no longer held back;

Programmed to destruct

We’ve thrown off all the blinders

That harass and obstruct

Yeah, they like to say

That I’m an Optimist,

Combatin’ all the lurid,

Messed-up masochists

'Cause my glass is never barren,

It’s filled up to the brim,

In my eyes you’re a Saint

In the presence of Sin

I can’t help what I say,

Innate need to explain

Intrinsic observations

In the cosmic chain

This is what's on my mind,

You can use it or leave it,

When fame slams ya in the bricks

You'll still be welcome to hear it

And when I see that all my pain

Has worked out for the best

I can lay my body back

Into the earth -to it’s rest

You can be sure that my essence

Will not wander, latent;

Tap dancin' with the Stars

And the Stones of the ancients

In deciduous boughs,

At times, my spirit will sit

And if you need me I’ll be right there

In the sway of a limb

Praying that you strive past mediocrity

See that potential RAGE up

To Actuality.

No, we won't give up

And it's makin' 'em anxious

Cause we're dancin' with the Stars

And the Stones of the Ancients

No we won't let up

And they're losin' their patience

Cause we're dancin' with the Stars

And the Stones of the Ancients

Up Risin'

Written By: MO3 (Phyllis Grant)

1. "Up Risin'"

I had to learn to take it

One phase at a time

Hold my head up though

The Devil’s busy

Chewin’ up my insides

Sometimes I sit back,

Tilt my chin and grin

Cause like a fistfight epiphany

Nobody wins

See the only real enemy

Exists in yourself

And that battle can be bigger

Than the battle for wealth

The opressed can’t help themselves

On what they choose

Predisposed to make choices

Based on nothin’ to lose

And I solemnly prefer

To cradle compassion

When it comes to the afflic'ed (afflicted);

The lack of tact in their actions

Before my mind is made up,

I seek another perspective

Like to look a bit deeper--

Look for utter objective

Approaches to things

And approaches to Being

Want to match a life worthy

Of the Woman you’re seeing

My ethics are a result

Of a constant progression

Holdin’ true to life’s lessons

On this journey’s succession

I’ve always had an affinity

For the lyrical world

And in some verses take shelter

Hear the beauty unfurl

As a rapper pays homage

In words to something or other

Makes me believe in my sisters

Believe in my brothers

And like fresco first dabbed

By a painter's brush,

When you remove the debris

And remove all the dust

Brilliant colours shine through

What’s intended prevails

You restore basic truth

Dissolve the somber details

And the people who feel

That things should stay

As they are

Are the people afraid

Of eventual scars

But the marks only come

From the rebirth of our nation

Our losses force us to grow

And continue creating

So if you find yourself jilted,

Bitter, imprisoned,

By people who hold to,

Pseudo-conviction,

Please keep movin' ahead,

I know the times may be tough,

But like an Orca in it's prime

You’ll be breachin’ up

My humble beginnin's were with

The pen and pad

Sittin' at the kitchen table

Holdin' babes in my lap

And when Tupac blended

With the likes of Bruce,

It planted all the right seeds--

Felt the need to contribute

Twenty-Six years old,

Those were the golden days

Babies laughin' with the beat

My skirt twirlin' in their gaze

Red Suga was born, and

My life switched paths;

Fringe-Dwellin' deviation

Accordin' to the Mass

But you can't withold Life

From an emergin' soul

Who needs to share vision

Who needs to unfold

And seek out the Others

Who might think alike

Help a new generation

Through burden and strife

If there's one thing I can do

In this world I know,

To make it just a bit better,

Make good energy flow,

I'll put the time in it takes

To reach that distant horizon,

What am I gonna do?

I'm Up Risin'.