This is the sleepless one, the deepest one, the breathless one.
Consciousness is synonymous with thoughtfulness, I caution this with confidence. It’s the light that cuts the dark abyss where motionlessness feels limitless. Fearfulness lost in this bonded fist is constant bliss to a broken wrist that dawns an eclipse.
Witness the illness of my uniqueness, the thickness quickens my sickness. Realness is coded by definitions of intuition drifting away from my weakness. Epiphany of sleekness is reasons I can switch between this – Trance.
Prance, dance, take a chance, experience romance as I continue my plans.
Time is not a commodity, yet an odyssey, in mockery you watch it spiral. Title it “Oddity Harmony”, across the sea sovereignty dropped a seed on top of me. Roots sing a quality of honesty in prophecy, as you view this awe to see.
Wait, Wait, Wait, Wait.
No chance I dissipate, ventilate your oxygen as I twist the pace.
Under this grace I’ve come to destroy hate, integral to this space.
Tip toe, Ha Ha, chase my wordplay, lyrical maze leaves expectations in a daze. Yes, I flow and think this way, my soul set ablaze, no opinions to what you have to say
Chill and ride this wave that makes the days seem less depraved.
Build the will to tote the trajectory of unpredictable patterns.
I skate on the rings of Saturn, a lantern in a cavern, Grandpa in the tavern. I fracture your concepts until I’m satisfied they are fully shattered.
Will he slow down?
Hell no stupid, I’m cupid on a mission to incite movements in your hips. Take a sip of the water I lay on your lips, no gulps, drink slowly or refreshment is sure to miss. I enjoy the twist of the satisfaction that my actions are the main attractions to your infatuation. I’m just the groove to the tune of your mood and know you’ll understand me soon.
You see what I can do, hand me the moon and we can make the world boom. Loom into projected gloom, or bloom in expected godly perfume.
I’m the groove, asking you what’s the move?
Oh, you don’t know what is true?
Oh, you don’t know I gave clues?
Oh, you don’t know what to do?
Oh, I know you’re still searching for a paddle when equipped with a sailboat. Tying shoes that are velcro, how long will you wait for?
Blame him, her, they, we, can be, anything, you want to be.
Just swim, standing there is how you sink.
Pink pretty roses are chosen for you at this moment, do you let go or hold on to it. Tearful are you fearful that life is more simple, what’s your purpose, what are you here for? Who do you love? Him, her, them, how much more will we pretend we don’t fear the end. Minuano sings in soprano, do we ignore the cries of the piano, is it too much for us to handle?
Move in the smooth etching of this mantle, tantalize until realization shapes yourself. Weigh the options health or wealth, loud or stealth, whispers or belt.
Chain the chromatic in frantic fashions, fractions breed satisfaction by lack action. Take what you feel and make it happen, stop yappin and feel as I be.
Once more feel the groove in your feet.
Press my beat in the heat of your seat.
Just breathe, and breathe, and breathe
Feel and don’t overthink.
The groovement is now complete.
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About
Maisen A. Hill writes with the pulse of a musician and the conviction of a seeker. His work moves beyond traditional poetry, channeling rhythm, revelation, and raw emotion into what he calls Trance Lyricism — a state where sound, thought, and spirit collide. Each line he crafts is a meditation in motion, alive with layered wordplay, spiritual undertones, and the tension between intellect and instinct. Hill’s language doesn’t just speak — it vibrates, reshaping perception through cadence and coded emotion. His poems invite readers to feel the rhythm of awakening, to lose themselves in the current of language until understanding becomes experience.
Social Media
Website: https://the-last-griot.ghost.io/
Instagram: @yitomuta_the_warrior_king and @maiday12
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