the day of material inducers

that's what the book says i am.
i disagreed. and now i see.
i was wrong.

why must the most expensive mediums of art call me?
taunt me.
tease me.
wake me up in the middle of the night.

lately, been in the company of mucho music makers.
music wants me to make it too? nawwwwwww.

spirit guides kindly quit feeding me arbitrary compositions.
por favor.
i'm not a beatmaker, imma filmmaker.
doh!

after the next script revision,
after the next cut of the doc,
after the next treatment...
after the projections...

then music?

maybe, music.
i'm giving my ipod to the dj.
playlist by dj clapper snapper.
play it now. por favor.
you can take the credit.
i can be your ghost dj.

in between time,
FEED ME
strings, italian opera, salsa...
they help with the scribe-ation.
the visual constitutions.

my dreams are no longer dreams.
they're more real than reality.

opportunity is knocking on the door of the non-opportunist.
we give in.

the calling is no longer calling.
it's at our front door. every morning.
5:32am. on the dot.

white flag is raised.
we get it. you get me.

lucky futha muckas.
we're the universe's worker bees.

the calling. it's grabbing you by the titties.

wutchoo' gonna do?