JC: Greetings..My name is Thomas Anderson and I just saw a black cat cross my path, twice, so you do the math… I have vision that one day Martin Luther King’s Dream will seem more fact than fiction. We will live in a reality without division, no more communism, equality for men and women young and old. The human race will no longer be a disgrace to itself. War will turn into peace, hate will turn into love, the darkness will be exposed by the light and falsehoods will turn into truth. The youth will turn to the elder’s, confusion will turn to understanding, fear will turn to courage, the homeless will possess food, clothing, and shelter. Mourning will turn into comfort, while yesterday’s trials, tribulations, and temptations will turn into today’s testimonies. Racism will turn into unconditional brotherly love, savages will turn to peace making, signs of the times will give proof of revelations, Satan will be forever placed in hell. No longer will the destroyer destroy, the Father of lie’s lie, no longer will the thief steal, no longer will the masked murderer kill, the innocent will no longer be slained. The righteous will no longer be persecuted, the wicked will turn to repentance… They will have reverence for God and the fear of the Lord shall be the beginning of knowledge, but this is only a vision. GW: The history old question: How can mankind effect change Without force or violence? Martin Luther King Turned the story on it’s head And for reward Got a bullet in his head But through his sacrifice There’s a boulevard of dreams In every city and town He would surely say That the fight is not over That the arc of the moral universe Is still bending and slowly bending Towards justice As we do our little parts Sometimes we need a leader With a fire in their hearts And a mind as sharp as blade That cuts to heal Not destroy

Much like her, I like my room More a womb, than a tomb In privacy her dreams unfurled But eventually she wowed the world With capitals & dashes most sublime “Forever — is composed of Nows — ’Tis not a different time” She used her present to compose verse A little bit of heaven in Amherst She might have invented the world ‘prolific’ And taught me that writing is terrific When you have a sense for rhyme And the fortitude to climb To the end of each new poem Though for a time it might be lonesome “Success is counted sweetest By those who ne’er succeed” And by those whose generosity Outdoes their greed I learned to love the written word When she wrote about a bird Called “hope” that perches in the soul And sings “and never stops — at all —“ Like her and hope I don’t plan on stopping And even without a sick beat dropping I’ll continue to compose my verses Until it comes time for death’s hearses And sing about “eternity” There’s few as good at poetry As she.

The poetic propaganda came into my life out of knowhere, But it was spelled with a K just to make it abundantly clear, It made me ponder the phrase in relation to the ancient of days, That perfect love casts out all fear, Cause that right there has to do with judgement beloved, I am not them and to be quite honest I’m astonished, Everyday my souls admonished freed from bondage, I was bored of education manipulated by Satan during summer courses at college, Where sex, drugs, & alcohol took me hostage, The only book that was never closed melted my heart, No longer frozen life was chosen the moment my third eye was opened, I’ll always have a reason for what I put my hope in, In and out of season interceding while I’m grieving, But, rejoicing at the same time, I’m committed to the daily renewal of my mind, Every single day the shift is paradigm, The most excellent art is ambidextrous I bet this, Event has the potential to be nexus and low-key (Loki) Behavior was reckless but now the Ruach Hakodesh is who I step with, Forever Yours for sure cause your compassion leaves me breathless, Standing in awe at what I just saw in the unseen realm, I wonder if angelic beings are enjoying my feature film, Warring against the flesh the battle with death is deeper than Helm’s, And just so y’all know the flow is never gone, I ride these intricate instrumentals like Rohan, Whether its a pad, a phone or my MacBook Pro that get’s wrote on, Dancing with the devil is regretful but, honestly the old man enjoyed the slow song, How did we get here, I dug deeper in the Word with each year, So as the calendar collapses and new chapters get written, I seek mercy for my decisions, I ain’t got an answer so to me don’t listen, Your bitter root has been forgiven, That’s where it all stems from, A wounded heart gets ripped apart if you smart don’t play dumb, The pain’s numb like neuropathy possibly, The circumstance for healing to advance, Acknowledge beautiful women, but avoid the second glance, My stance is simply this, we’re all crooked and capable of wickedness, If the truths not workin then why I do we even exist? You’ve been warned via Terraform we bringing forth a world of change, Calisthenics ordered by God even though its odd, my understanding was rearranged.

I would not “compare thee to a summer’s day” Since all the season’s seep through: Romance and war, Fantasy and sobering reality Swords and flowers, Kings and paupers. If I could only pick one author To fill up my library with I think I would pick Shakespeare. A window into his time, But also into The Moor’s, Antony and Cleopatra’s, Henry the Fifth’s, And all the made up characters He peopled his powerful plays with. He epitomized the two faces Of the theater— Comedy and Drama—so well, Often in one play Or even one sonnet. He was as dextrous with his pen As Romeo’s tongue or Tybalt’s fateful blade, As deft as Lady Machbeth’s scheming Or Puck’s poetry. Our language is littered With his phrases, His themes are of biblical proportions In our society. If I had only his writing to recount I could understand the gamut Of human nature and experience: Jealousy and ambition, Class struggle and holy war, Young love and old woes. His canon is so impressive, Scholars believe it couldn’t have been Just one man. But in each play, in each poem, There is such a signature stamp, It must be. I have some plays yet to read But years in which to read them. And years in which to write, Try my hand at mankind’s Wonderful and terrible capability. And my own.

You’ve always been methodical with your Mannerisms, If they asked me the birthplace of my artistry, I’d say it’s the iron lung and tical sparking mad isms, Spiritual circumcisions no religious rituals rules or regulations, Johnny Blaze was the inspiration behind the first phase of JClazzificafion, I’ve stayed hopeful in the waiting room consumed with patience, Took my time, learned how to rhyme, Others called me Son cause thats exactly how I shine, You’re all I need to get by makes me flashback to a simpler time, Y’all didn’t love me back then, so for now you can simply get in line, The Forest of Pine is where I spit Cliff Smith verses, Hopped on stage when they called my name, To share my passion from inside, the only drama was I didn’t have my Mary J. Blige, Asked this girl could she sing the hook with hopes that she’d obliged, I could see it in her eyes viewing me as a clown, Wasn’t willing to get down, oh but that was before, Before I started spitting, she saw the crowd react and changed her decision, Walked on stage slowly approaching the mic, My decline was polite, you had the opportunity and blew it, It would’ve been dope but nope like I said before you thought I was a joke, I actually went on to win that high school talent show, And just so you know Method was the Man of whom after I patterned my flow, Let’s go!!!

Sometimes we take bright things Like the sun For granted But our apathy doesn’t do it Any damage It keeps shining and growing The world With its rays nonetheless Shara Nova is one of those stars Her voice traveling light years’ far A star shines best in darkness And obscurity has made Shara Shine all the brighter She’s touched souls Don’t be fooled She’s touched mine To the bottom of the dark pools In my soul She is indeed My Brightest Diamond And a hint from the universe That the earth is rich to be mined Rich in the mind Of women as well as men Black as well as white Religious or atheist All of us are charged with glory And some us sing it So true God make me brave Like you

I’m grateful for last name Lewis, first name Clive being a Staple, Along my adventurous journey with the True and Faithful, At times mankind can be downright hateful, It’s deceitful but, good and evil have become interchangeable, And that’s not debatable in the darkest parts of our hearts, Is a mark that seems unattainable we all fall short of His glory, That’s why the foundation of every story is relatable, I’ve realized the father of lies has a vocal tone thats unmistakeable, Wormwood’s Uncle seasoned every stroke of the pen with deception, I forget when brethren, but I fell for every single trick in the book, Look- it’s your choice you decide, lunatic, liar, or Lord, Listen my friend the pen is mightier than the Sword, Unless of course its the source truly living and active, I’m aggressively passive and thats a figuratively literal oxymoron for the masses, Too many distractions kept me out of The Wardrobe lookin for more clothes, Potentially a white robe washed in the blood of the lamb, It’s only by the grace and guidance of Aslan I am who I am, It’s been said before I walked when you ran because longevity is the plan, Applying God's wisdom even when it's hard to understand.

A prophet with a penchant for song David Bazan carries you along The path of man’s hypocrisy With the perfect chords and melody He rips your idols up to shreds An artist who listens like you’ve read A short story with dramatic twists If it wasn’t for him So many artists wouldn’t exist He’s had his ups and downs of faith But you could argue that it’s fate That Bazan dramatically left the fold After so many stories told Of Christians who live in arrogance Bazan’s never been one To sit on the fence And for his honesty I respect him If I could, I would elect him President of indie rock A shepherd himself with a faithful flock Questioning the things we’re taught I’m thankful for what he brings And for what he’s brought And how he’s helped me see the world A man who’s of his song and word

I drink from a well that will never run dry, Life is short, I’m gonna live it well or at least try, Before I die I hope to supply what the world’s demanding, Hungry and thirsty, figurative and literal, I care about your spiritual as well as needs that are physical, If it’s within my power, I’ll shower you with all the gifts, You believe the breeze but, don’t see the wind, And pretend that’s the reason God don’t exist, Decide not to come around and that’s a beautiful letdown, All of us were meant to live for so much more but, we tend to ignore the sound, On one sweet day I’ll be gone J. will no longer be around, It’s cool if you never knew the tale of this Sad Faced Clown, I was immersed in baptismal water where I let my sinful nature drown, Ever so often he’s tries to come up for air, I simply crucify him with the truth cause I dare to stare, Death right in the face then continue running my race, I’m empathetic I won’t reject it, I just pray one day you’ll relate, As I wait for my redemption each sentence is adding to the noise, I’d rather build you up with encouraging words instead of tear down to destroy, But this is your life so if you feel your more than fine, You have the choice to accept deflect or decline any one of my lines, For what it’s worth I long for heaven in a place called Earth, That quotes verbatim from The Foreman so the credit he deserves, Jesus, I have my doubts but, everyday you stay ripping em out, You will never have to question exactly what it is I’m about.

“What happens to a dream deferred?” He pondered with the written word Langston Hughes was my introduction To the terrible problem of segregation And proved along with so many of his brothers That heart and mind, regardless of color, Beat with an undying forcefulness And that a person of great resourcefulness Can change the trajectory of the world Even with simply written words His poetry broad sweeping and succinct Was like a great African river you drink He showed such an aptitude for language And his poetry showed such a deep range That we have his works in volumes Now in a million bedrooms We have to deal with the reality of race And how much better with minds that are great I’m glad that I can call him a friend And that I can help the problem of racism end

Beware the Mama Bear she’s out here to protect the cub, By any means necessary on some ole Malcolm X type love, That could literally be fisticuffs or figuratively a nickel plated snub, What’s love got to do with it Tina? Everythang, but this the very first woman of God you come to love prior to wedding rang, I received my broadway-ness from her cause she loves to sang, Spontaneous combustion angelic voice eruption, improv skills at the Zenith, Believe this poetry was passed on from my Moms trust me she’s the genius, And so help me God I won’t let anything get between us, I mean this, Otherwise I wouldn’t have wrote it, She instilled eternal values in me so just know my bro I’m focused, I’m kinda like the Mama’s Boy spokesman, I throw jokes in with a splash of harsh reality, It breaks my heart when I wound hers and tears disperse if she’s mad at me, I will gladly be her favorite son from henceforth, I was born in Carolina first name North, But she is Pittsburgh born, Ohio farm raised, And when it came, to Pap and Gram her parents never led her astray, The solid rock was the foundation our fam built upon to this day, I know y’all think I’m Wilder with the things that I say, Haven’t reached the peak or fell from it like Deontay, Furious as Tyson but, I ain’t no spring chicken, Turned 39 years young the day before this piece was written, Live out the Bare Knuckle Gospel word to Krum no bull$%itin, Y’all can try to Rob me but, I’ll never play the Viktum, That’s never been my mentality, I just chose to oppose the world system of fallacy, Mama Bear dared to pray for days when I lost control of my mental faculties, I triumphed in my tragedies, He was faithful to her prayers, She asked and I received- mental clarity was right there, Knocked upon the door and slowly it was opened, Healed from psychological anguish, so that’s why He is who I put my hope in.

Though I’ve changed some of my assumptions His music will always be a foundation Making Jesus something novel A hearty invitation not a pathetic grovel “We haven’t just been told, we have been loved” Putting on his “Jesus gloves” Ringhofer picks up a cache of instruments And charges the world with his eloquence In just a minute, maybe two He knocks the prejudices off of you Teaches truths from the Bible In a way so wondrous and so vital Giving a definitive sound to joy Something playful like a toy But something so intelligent It’d take an encyclopedia to explain what he meant He taught me that theology And also Christian apology Can be something very fun If I want to ponder the ‘chosen one’ I just put one of his records on And all my trepidation’s gone He embraces the kingdom like a child And helps us feel reconciled To a God who’s smart but also kind With noises like a tape rewind We’re transported to the world of his making Understandable but so groundbreaking He’s taught me that the world’s a canvas That a visionary God has granted us And so I’ll try to touch one heart With the wonder he has touched mine, Through his art

I mean understand he’s the loneliest super star I ever saw, self proclaimed that is, And in my humble opinion I’m speaking to the lonely part, Cause I’ve seen him shine like Orion from a far, But I don’t fully know his heart or how he feels, so let’s talk & see what’ll be revealed, Still shining 5 degrees apart from the deep space vocal tones in my car, Made me practice daily introspection to find out who I are, Or who I is or who I am, Grammatical errors become a part of the plan, To me it doesn’t matter as long as the good soil understands, Comprehends their identity as seeds of Abraham, They may label me a Stan but, I just believe in sincere communication, My love language is human relations, Actually nobody really deserves these explanations, Defense mechanisms get locked in my basement, Let’s face it Krum is finna make a run to the top of the ladder, So you can retract the feedback if its too tough to compute the data, Once each piece of art is released I’m like what’s coming after?, Fighting for freedom over every clean drum, Feet numb from traveling with nomadic caravans, Narrow-road is what we chose when our needs were exposed, Light into darkness the hardest battle I’ve ever seen, I became a witness to that fact 2 weeks after I turned 19, Holy Spirit intervened when He breathed on the music, Lyrical content like a boom baptist in the convent, Breakin bread with oxymoronic monks up in the temple, It’s so much more than a pen when you watch this brother blend instrumentals, Can I be cliche and simply say "straight facts"?, When Samax had you hot doggin on group therapy with Sivion, People don’t fully know what type of gold tip you on, So you spat on em put mud in they eye and gave em black lung, We all know that this, is what the road dogs run, And the dirty angels, well they ride tonight.

“Instructions for living a life. Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.” Mary Oliver had an eye Like a scientist And a way with words Like a children’s book writer, Grown up. I honestly don’t know what I like more Nature or a nature poet’s Enthralling words. They both have the effect Of out-of-this-world wonder With the mind blowing, Heart touching reality, That they are, in fact, Talking about what is In and a part of our Everyday world. Mary Oliver has helped So many people, Live day to day, With wonder. She was full of hope. It silently exploded In all of her works. Even in darkness She found something To praise. Like she wrote, “Someone I loved Once gave me a box Full of darkness. It took me years To understand that This too Was a gift.” To Mary, it was all gift. And I’ll try To carry that torch Since she has left This mortal coil. I aspire to write Like Mary Oliver. So simple, But so profound, So new but so true.

The community of Hip Hop was in shock, When we learned that within Sin City somebody shot the beloved Tupac, Our culture was Gridlock’d, The scene was more horrific than a tour featuring Slipknot, And whether you believe it or not in 96 the internet did exist, I was on AOL asking in the chatrooms A/S/L tryna holla if ya hear me, At worldwide females, but I digress I’ll spare ya the details, I could read well so I visited the blogs, Only to discover something was goin horribly wrong, I was told that if you hold your ear close to the speaker, On the intro to Makaveli ya got me? You’d a hear a mysteriously low voice proclaim “Suge Shot Me”, That right there stopped me in my tracks, I didn’t know how to respond or react, Was something fishy afoot how did Pac predict that? He must’ve had a premonition, at Spring Lake I would make everybody listen, I even told the lady at the liquor store she’s forgiven, She went home, he truly must have deeply felt alone, I wonder sometimes did his rhymes reach God’s throne? Was his struggle with right and wrong depicted in every song, Somethin that grieved God’s Spirit or made Him sing along, Cause if heaven gotta ghetto best believe Amaru is there, I Ain’t Mad At Cha hope you got to walk up them golden stairs, Made me realize as an adolescent that life isn’t fair, I became aware of a new worldview, The grass isn’t always greener when you walk a mile in someone else’s shoes, Honestly your interviews spoke volumes more than your tunes, And you did more for me than recommend marijuana and Hennessy, Although fasho, best believe I partook, Even started rocking bandanas experimenting with a new look, I’m glad to say that phase slowly passed away, But my senior class photo is where that nose ring stayed, Although it looked pretty cool I must say, Anyway my name is J. and I’m the brain that he sparked, That will shine light in the dark with wise pearls, That at some point and time will change the world.

After summer camp In middle school I listened to your record Dozens of times In my basement “In Circles,” so to speak Till it made sense to my ears Until I finally liked it Because the kids Who dressed up weird at camp Who matched the way I felt inside Told me it was good And it changed The way I listen to music Forever On the bus to a high school wrestling match Where I would surely get pinned I listened to another of your records And it is one of the deepest feelings I have ever had Just me and your record Bumping along in the back seat It opened up to me Like the sun bursting Through the clouds Like water pumped From dry ground For once I didn’t “Waffle” But was transfixed And it changed The way I felt about myself Forever In a time in my life When I was ‘sinning” When my friends were Talking about ‘the Lord’ And I couldn’t wrap my head Around it all Another of your albums Put it in understandable terms “How It Feels To Be Something On” “Every Shining Time You Arrive” And I opened my heart to God And it changed The way I viewed the mystery of life Forever On the way down to church after college Where my friends would wail and flail Though I was never moved That way by the Spirit I listened to another of your albums And those songs are impressed Upon my heart like a fingerprint It was a little bit of “Heaven” Songs of flying Leaving the nest And learning to rock With my friends And on my own And it changed The way I embraced adventure Forever As a songwriter I listened to your songs again and again There’s a mystery To writing a good, heartfelt song And another of your albums Convinced me that the “World Waits” For my creations With bated breath Like I waited for yours If I listened to your music With so much affection Someone, some day Might listen to mine With the same affection And it changed The way I create songs and poetry Forever In a world of doubt and copies Your music has always Held hope and possibility And originality for me Singing about “steeples built upon the graves” And how “by your grace we live in” And the rest of that killer album With the band from Spain And “Vale Oso” It helped me to realize That I could “bear” The weight that the world Put on my shoulders And it changed My sense of possibility and responsibility Forever After years with my best friend and wife The same year I was going through a divorce Another one of your albums Helped me to see the “Light and Shadow” I was walking an “Ancient Road” Many had been here before But never me and you helped My heart to process and to heal We all need a soundtrack To the highs and lows of life And you were there for me And it changed The way I feel about grace and forgiveness Forever You’ve soundtracked my life The most important And the hardest moments I’ve had Been yourself, so I can be myself Taught me to love and create And mourn and feel And I will be grateful Forever

Sev said to Speak Life so I obliged Da Pointman and do that to every mic I clutch tight, Or when I start marching on the margin from left to right(write), In spite of the dark that tries to hide the light from my third eye sight, I realize at times I too have to be first to fight, So my prayers become solar flares to make the long night shine bright, And as for godly insight it takes a clear conscience to remove the nonsense, From my heart before I impart any sort of encouraging words, To the fellow image bearers I observe posted on the curb, With vision blurred and words slurred, surrounded by a cloud of witnesses, Experiencing the goodness of the Lord while tasting deliciousness, I try to die daily so its a slow suicide when I metaphorically slit my wrist, And all of this is glorious for one distinct purpose, Look deep within your soul realize your not worthless, Plan, prepare, execute and pivot when it’s not working, We’re all searching for truth, A city on a hill which we will not conceal, But feel as though its worthy of dying on, I’ve got broad shoulders you can always cry upon, Pride is gone, I humble myself and realize it tries to come back to life, Make my flesh obey the Spirit, As I wrap my fingers around the throat so oxygen won’t be allowed to float, Inside the windpipe, thats a lil a definition of living sacrifice, When the clock strikes midnight, My state is altered, remain a prudent Stu Dent, And never falter, place my burdens, anxieties, cares and worries at the altar, Of the very King who you bought ya, with the purest of hemoglobin, We’ve been chosen to unlock the minds since the beginning of time, Provide understanding to those that are inclined, To seek the truth and discover freedom cause that’s exactly what you’ll find.

GW: When you think of Middle Earth What is it you think of first? Orcs and dragons, hobbits and elves Or how to become our very best selves? Tolkein used the world of fantasy To teach us all about bravery The fortitude it takes to fight The blessed day, the terrible night And through his words Brought us such beauty A taste of adventure And richest booty And illustrated how a story Can lead us into greater glory Using his imagination To fabricate his own creation He elevated our minds and hearts The greatest mission of great ar JC: This is nothing more or nothing less I must confess than a Tolkien of my appreciation, The finest pipe weed of all the Shire is the supplier of my inebriation, I take a voyage to Middle Earth on every single mental vacation, From Hobbit holes to the peace I found within my soul amidst the Elvish Kinfolk at Rivendell, The Foreman told me life is short, so I wanna live it well, In the words of Galadriel the hearts of men are easily corrupted, I peeped the mines of Moria and observed how they erupted, Not to be presumptuous but, my Balrog or demon is the spirit of a seductress, Feeling like Frodo so understand Pippen, Merry, and Sam are congruent to those bro’s I grew up with, I wanna chuck this ring, this thing, this precious enchantress that sings in every room, Deep into the magma of Mount Doom, But it consumes me, wants to ruin me, And everyone I come in contact with, Sting started glowing Azul so I had to take a stab at this, What a depressive state the world would be in if my brother JRR didn’t exist, Or live out a life where he shared his gift, A legacy left behind that will inspire future generations, Let’s be honest we know the source of these fictional revelations, With factual destinations, I’m steady waiting with patience and joyful anticipation, For The Return of The one true King, Worshipping so they can hear this in Minas Tirith when I sing, Bow to no man understand, I will never kiss the ring

JC: Well well well, Mr. Gregory a dear friend to me, Scratch that more like a life long brother, Can’t wait til we can spend eternity hangin out with one another, I don’t gotta say it cause you already know I sincerely love ya, I never judge ya and you’ve made that reciprocal, This dude right here’s a real unique individual, With a gentle spirit, humble heart and art that’s never critical, Oh so lyrical, he challenges me so much artistically, Helps me process most things I chew and digest spiritually, I don’t think you understand you the man, I can’t wait to see you effect the trajectory of planet Earth’s history, I’m being honest remain modest but believe, In the gifts that live within, You gon fulfill that destiny but never sell yourself short again, Can I get an amen? I can’t pretend like it’s not an honor and a privilege to know you, You’ve inspired my fire and I just hope these words show you. GW: The thing about JClazzified Is that he’s bonafide A real stand up dude When it comes to having a good attitude It’s not hard to get into his rhymes But once you’ve spent a little time With him his words have the effect Of an official blue Twitter check He tries to live out his truth And kills the tracks when in the booth I think it’s only a matter of time Before the hip hop world sees him shine I love our daily talks And it’s nice to see him live out his faith walk And put it into compelling verses If a well written play takes much rehearsing He’s become familiar with his subject And makes a hearty effort to connect He doesn’t always brag Unless it’s about the heart of No White flag He’s the definition of a disciple Men like him are archetypal