High Defination

started my train of thought In a syllable form, simple but well created distort all metaphors, now I sit with the gods, skeletal are my words, closet is where the boogie man lies, In a country with political and ethnic divide, easily forgetting your face. Is it a race? When you have the same melanin chemistry, or is it a fore father trace, of being, that god father mentality with no meaning. A lost culture, in a century that’s after, all that’s above us, so what is the word. You wanna step next? On the left side of bent continent, with a hollow end and the end. The south of Africa, follow my trend, we exist in different universal dimensions, ask my Egyptian cousin’s. Physics, science and mathematics,  was born by us, through the narrow light that  escapes precise on the apex, lightning speed,  an Egyptian pyramid. This is me, the lost sun, the first creation of being from mud,  continent of the beginning of man..call me Adam, now  Kellah.. the sun that exists above in a lost galaxy.

I read them books on the first man, noted the facts that he was black, three hundred thousand years in a Moroccan field, these Homo sapiens fossils prove my connection to God. I only spit clear cut, my mind follows it’s own path, the beat harmony be sick, to write to this, you gatta cut off your fingers like Robert Schumann. To get this symphony right. I’m that cat who gets in your stereo system, wether  you rocking hifi definition or your headphones, I mentally penetrate you. My lines be inspired like the 9 ruby prince, fuck the nine planet theory, you still on one galaxy.. my cortex be flowing like the silver surfer on the El elyown, stick on your lane, this be the nineteenth galaxy. You learning too late, that was Kunta Kinte’s fate. Now history is upon us, hold your thoughts clutched in a fist before, you judge that form, the east of Africa, defined in a specific form, now known as the horn.

Sun’s lines / These lines

 I don’t waste time when I scribble my rhymes. I make sure it covers the lines. These lines, in my life they cover no lies, simple as my mother pushing me on English linguistics, when she couldn’t speak a word of it. they gat 50, pick one shade, my lines stretch from up above forming rays, easily dissect that matter that is gray. The essence of history, this here being, Kellah , in a line, so if I call my self the lost sun..the shadow you always ignore, I’m that Apollo boot, found the galaxy in my head, while Neil Armstrong was planting flags on the moon. I be opening Nabongo Mumia books, that Luhya cat with his own platoon, an African freedom warrior all in a line. that moment when I get my mum to smile, coz she knows I be above your 10% brain theory, metaphors extend beyond normal cortex capabilities in just a line. picture that biblical rainbow, when y’all cats be trying to please the world, I’m dead, focused on the bullet point,  coz she don’t take anything second place, but she damn well embraces a good race. Controversial, so I’m waiting for y’all to judge my first liners, like a blind date guessing whose behind this, it’s all in the line first, what you gonna hear next ain’t that important,  what’s gonna hit you in place of that expected wisdom, pure facts, a Sun in a lost galaxy, gliding through stars, scribbling these lines.

You don’t need no telescope to see me among the stars, my bond with my maker be tight as Michael kicking the devil off the  golden city, check how easy this flow be, raised by fore fathers who built the Pyramids. My knowledge be deep stored, like Jews bank stores with no krypton Superman kryptonite flaws. The suns lines run like blood, flow through clay or wooden box, Pinocchio, give life through these lines, posses both earthly, and that pure heavenly spirit. Step into the 21st century with these lines, and spit like dig this. You can’t switch radio stations coz I captured from Africa to all nations. Just when y’all thought hiphop was dead, I came with the power to resurrect it. Threw in some vinyls, let Akili Blaq guide the beat and master the symphony, I rehearsed it and laced the line to it, Put this gospel next to Revelations, scriptures now written in social internet scrolls, these lines now need some street credit, coz y’all get it, these lines, always predictable as the morning sun, these lines be the Lost suns lines.

Attila’s Empire

 I look back to few years past, when cats went ape shit, blood was spilt, next door brothers was killed, over some bullshit them politicians in their midst raised a bloody blood bath. Loose propaganda tongues made niggaz lift up machetes and guns, call it in their class collateral damage, they still fuck with the mentalities of blind followers, speaking on ghost projects to the poor, a few shillings thrown just us to lure. Our level of life, not a dollar a day is what we endure, but how you gonna stand on your own two, if you still holding placards praising The Who and who, who don’t know where your last meal came from. But that’s the system we live in, it ain’t thing line, between the rich and the loyal sheep shameless, the poor living below the poverty line, fighting for you to get your political seats, step on the lime light and forget about their needs, I’m talking about Kenya and it’s political elite.in the years of election, they step down, off their horse and walk holding our hands in the dusty streets, and the sick cycle continues, we vote them back in, complain about that shit, wait for 5 more years to complain about the same shit.

I’m great full

 Kasoha, that first name that always ring bells, when the world is out to get me, that oasis, that covers me from sandy storms, the slow motion of chi, built my confidence and made me appreciate the way of tai. A voice that pushed me, always pushing, wisdom came simple, in times of strife my path she lined clear walking on thorns while carrying me on her back. thank you for the 7 months, you carried me, nourished me in my fetus form, choices in the stories years later told, you put your life at risk , disregarding all the doctors warning, you had faith in me before you gave birth to me, nothing ever changed, you raised me in the books of the God you believed in, thank you for the short life stories that you told me, helped me grow to the man I am, thank you for reminding me that apologies and simple words like sorry, don’t cost a thing, eventually these words clears your soul and mind of all worldly worries. I’m great full for the simple holidays, I have to say, the perfect Christmas Day dinners. You made miracles with the little you had, and always made sure to remind us to be great full for every little thing we have, as your words always stated give thanks to the most high, for the simple things in life. I’m great full, seconds, minutes, hours every breath in your presence is a blessing, words can’t paint that Picasso on a canvas as an illustration of my affection. The sacrifice you gave, in a soul out of soul, you brought mine always first, I’m great full, I’m proud, and appreciate you as always being my beacon bright, the light house that alway lights my way home. I’m great full, to my birth mother Margaret coz Kasoha always rings bells.

Temple of the Lost Sun.

Master, master please help me, help me master....

I learnt all the skills you taught me, I’m getting closer, the hiphop temple is next, they have conquered all the basic genres around the realm, so hiphop is definitely next, master please help us. The mainstream skill be moving faster through the legions, from village to village they be consuming everything on their path. I know I hold the 36 chambers knowledge, but like Mulan still aint seen the flaming bird on my side, my chi be strong ,hold skills, bravery and thoughts of the ancients, moves like the tiger paws, silent as the mantis, though I heard these cats gat crunk. Scrolls I perfected, spit flames like the G.O.T dragon, history not on my side though, aint no Kane and Able story. 

Destiny, perfected metaphors, skills beyond the god sun Thor, senses and sight be clear, as they direct, everything you taught me, falling into place, puzzles put to pieces, pieces left to stay, so I swear master to protect hiphop with my blood, I know my spits and metaphors spill easy like lava on volcano grounds. Pull out my double edged sword, this here is for the second platoon..skilled brothers bred through years, that samurai flow that they gat. My mission is to be last, lost sun monk to hold the temple wall. Memories of the mantis now crips on me, movement be swift, as time is of the essence, I switch to my ninja form, so I can stealthily move to protect this course. Master, master they still gat moves I aint seen before. temple wall has been breached. What next master? I mastered all the scrolls, from Tai chi to the tiger paw..for hiphop to survive I need help from the 36 chambers of the wutang masters..I will hold the fort of the Temple as long as I can..master send the word to the wutang  masters..send the word to the wutang masters.

The Black aftermath.

I break my dark thoughts decisively, just to speak my mind in a form thats understood, corner stuck now like an Eskimo in freakin Sudan, that’s how easily my words land, in a box breathing, but six feet sand filled, point of holding the rosary calling out for arc angels to save me, I Gatta breath now, gotta let my blood flow, dirt, greed and power. Cortex in a form of Pinocchio, body manipulated to stipulate, what the world wants, but off the wooden mask, skills spill my master can’t see the nose level increase, Bit by bit. Picked my pen up to dismiss these scrolls from your past.

Tell me how they got the Trojan horse in..history messing with me, like my forefathers were born in Africa but didn’t know till Columbus saw it! continent was non existent until them ships came in, like we didn’t know our creator until the Bible came through, we couldn’t live until we got their medicine? I gat history for days to break new century phrases, my cousins spoke in holy tongues unknown hieroglyphics. broke the basics of constellations, we brought math in fractions, steel made worriors, Shaka Zulu, the Kenyan Mau Mau..in stealth mode, our land, a continent we could hide in clear site. been fighting with Kings of the jungle.. all our life..that was our play time, messing around with elephants, we roll with lions as pets in the Serengeti.  just to pass time, when you be fighting on Prenups .. best check my history before you judge my style, intelligence and street Steez. I be as easy as a Jamaican Bingi..my hair locks me to the land of gods, I be  lost sun the dread locked African.

Bleeding fingers form patterns.

The lost sun, I have been to the ninth planet with no flying objects…My bleeding fingers still form patterns.

So dig this.

I break my dark thoughts decisively, to speak in a form thats understood by the rest of you..definition of skills, Stephen king flic in an instance, words now come last, picture perfect..I tore of a page of Da Vinci’s last supper master piece..mastering Harry Houdini’s…. one bullet theory, no more basic phrase sentences, move back signs, like beware ‘’ sick mind at work’’. i be the kind relocating thoughts, your psychiatrist phrased in a common beat session, the sneer kills my time period, when your money is up. Leave you believing that you’ll be safer if you top up.. I simply formulate like meth heads in a lab scribbling chalk boards on how to penetrate the core of your vortex..inner most mind, pick through brain sections, Hannibal Lecter style.

From the birth of the universe, my Father the creator..gave me passes through levels in time, forged my thoughts through dimensions with signs, Exosphere, Thermosphere, Mesosphere, Stratosphere, my grade now rests on the Troposphere , a recreation of beings that’s now here, knowledge is clear, Hiphop is the word we speak and now they all must hear, no longer rhyme and reason .. it’s pure…basic thoughts and reason, I don’t rhyme to fit in, my bloody finger ink lines...are just deep..metaphors control my train of thought…thats just it…words align on paper the matrix..as i write, fit in perfect.. a Shaolin monk with samurai skills..always a step ahead in life like on the chess boards…that Kenyan cat..air skating like the silver surfer..leaving my prints in every hood I bless with the arc angles touch..check my bloody fingers..I leave patterns.