Makumba

By my knuckles, I dragged my heavy body through the beat littered streets past the darkest depths of the black midnight oil that streak the damndest streets and alleys of this city of vice and all things nice, but few things truly good... but always, there is something awaiting ussin that soul's dusky dirty pitch—and there are no exceptions when it comes to the divine. A ray of light, a ray of sound dancing through the air, on my tongue, aa taste organic, something never before beheld by any of the Five sense s that give all we know so charitably to us beat em down beasts...do you hear it...in the mists? From the mountain? Purifying like a fountain, of percussive truth: MAKUMBA