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All High On The Spice Rack

from by Marcus Carab & Fresh Serf



Mr. Synesthesia, come to grin and please ya
in a leisure suit to shoot the wind or breeze of indonesian
coffee bean, sloppy dream of sin to freeze your skin to knees-a
whoops sneezed-a, gezundheit or bless you
this one try to impress you
got all high on the spice rack
then switch that to serf tech
i'm not about to bite that
metalfingered hand that feeds
the flesh epiglott'
i'm spitting spices on the harvest
that the Serf is serving hot
because i can't stop myself getting
fatter on the crop
of Datura Stramonium harmoniously dropped
and slopped up on the plate
like oh so much Devil's Snare
dishevelled hair, well aware
like knows what level's fair
that's Mr. Synesthesia
sense fuser with ease-a
emcee who smell beats,
feel notes and taste keys-a
plus hear colour, feared culler of the duller swatches
watches too much TV but so media greedy
besides he see's it in 3D
and need his feed speedy
rich and switched twice weekly
with a bitch to buy him cheezies
and read up in the kitchen
look at pics of YM teenies
and keep up her depiction
why she do it? (yeah why)
she's bewitched by his steezies
so that much was easy
plus the condo's nice and breezy
and can't resist the kiss of lips
that's mescaline, peyote tips
and Psylocibe Baocystis
she call him Synesthesia Thistle-Tongue
wants a new little one
he tells her "you're too brittle hun!"
some Mr. Syn riddle fun:
what do you call a man
who scrawls and rants,
hears voices and appalls his fans?
you might guess brain schizophrenic
but then you don't get it
that's like Maine is to Venice
Archaic to Hellennic
plain infectious to carcinogenic
extra-absorbant surface,
purpose and heart of skeptic
a Synesthesia in your synapse
i teach y'all to fly
then clip your wings and watch the grin lapse
with more mishaps, than borne out of a thin gap
and more world tours than there's toxic spores in caps
I think that's a million or so, and feeling so rapt
he knows his own rap flow's wrapped up in a fat bow
but necktie's a four-in-hand
sword and a warring clan
and you's just a boring man
out whoring in a foreign land
so I'm shutting down the lines of communication
like this puny nation, well it's ripe for invasion
what you doing making screwfaces? be patient
and if you don't like what y'alls watching you can change the station
'cause this shits downright amazing
and if y'all feel complacent
but your mind's still all racing
well then that's just the pacing
of your veins making ways in
to rain out your brain
like the great lakes basin
and I'd make a great mason
or a decent Scientologist
'cause reason, rhyme and logic
isn't feeding my apologistic
following who swallow it
like i'm a gossip columnist
with hip-hop and Hyssop
that kicked off the solipsistic
wallowing that's taller than
the wall around the lot of it
i bet you wish you'd thought of it
and hopped on in the pot with it
the socket in my occiput is hooked up for the recharge
i look up and see far, Mr. Synesthesia


from Rhyme Circus Act One, released July 16, 2013




Marcus Carab Toronto, Ontario

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