One cosmic, interstellar rip
inward, your lungs ride the tide.
Echoes. Yesterday’s falling star,
dawning upon your opening.
Tap that shit and make it purty like Purdie.
Spank. Clap. Sizzle. In a fire neon bright.
Glass rings. Round and round your planetoid.
Mescalina, sabrosa. Handle that spice. Your lifeblood in dust.
Weightless, can’t even moon the neighbors.
Speaking tongues. Speak, wagging thumbs.
What’s shaking at the knees when you’ve one upped your down?
Whisper. Greeting, tired psyche.
Welcome to the age of inner-city heard ambient.
Wet. Dripping like ice on a post-modern day,
these Lips graze your lobes, dose you in a silent way.
Pacing down a Fifth Ave, barren and caste over,
steps that jog on looping end, mind in desert meditation.
Breathe. Silence. Discovery.
The power of influence. Back door open. Your home is warm.
Sweat the night, Devotion. Beat your color violet.
Leaking a honey. Its flavor, your divinity.
Horizontal and cloud-wise, lay into me and do it right.
Yusef. Blowing, solar essence meets the mind’s eye.
Ascension. Burning. Up in expiring time.
Dissolution. Everywhere. Nowhere. Among those we call Luminous.
Deemed his most personal yet, Portable's new LP puts his vocals front and center, showcasing some very real song writing skills. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 17, 2016