Wake early
if you want
another man's life or land.
No lamb
for the lazy wolf.
No battle's won in bed.

-The Havamal

[PS] Quote

"0% down? 100% screwed..."

Summing up the sub-prime loan.

Abinyah

Ninja Scroll - by Abinyah Walker

Ninja Scroll
by Abinyah Walker

‘An exercise in conceit’
Ninja Scroll


Inspired by ninja Scroll, a Japanese animated movie (anime), that peers into the dark mystical culture of 16th Century Japan. This conceit has me doing battle with Tesai, one of the 8 devil’s of Kimone, modified to illustrate a verbal lyrical conflict. Not all is as it seems. 

We were sent on a pillage to find out what happened to Shimoda village
But we were attacked!
8 devils of Kimone, the Showgun of the dark’s minions on gold
They decimated my ninja team, some of the most skilled rhymers I’ve seen
These dudes are bad ass, but I rhyme too fast
I barely got away, lost twenty of my friends that day
I wanna get these dudes back, but I’m still seeking the right verbal attack
Each day my hurt multiplies, turning my heart as dark as those guys
Now I’ve come back with my clan’s bandanna around my hair
My lyrical sword rhymer to slice whack MC’s in the air
My emblem T5B: to strike fear.
I feel a cold howl one of them might be near
I’ve extended out my ninja rhymes
Lightning strikes, its T5B: from behind.
This is Ninja Scroll
The story’s already been told
Ninja missions are a tradition
In my mind I was born with verbal incisions
I’ve gotta do battle, this wasn’t left up to decision.
But I can beat this dude and digest him like food
Beat him on a Sunday if I’m in the mood
Tesai steps up, there’s a new silence in the air
He doesn’t look so tough so I stood there in the clear
My eyes must be fooling, his body turned to stone
He unbrandished his weapon, deafened with its harsh tone
He twiddled his blade in hunger
Right before he threw it a loud crash of thunder
The battle’s begun!

My rhymes burn you like the sun
Each move is flawless, this aint just for fun
But his rhymes so sharp it cut through the dark
Heat seeking, projectile, cut you down inside a mile
How can I beat this dude there’s no part of him that’s weak
Flawless technique this devil’s at his peak
Dodged each of his verbs, theorized on how space time curves
He sent out his adjectives, injected a 10,000 word additive
But I couldn’t manage this clown as his pronouns struck me down
Ha Ha Ha….

I came back as the ill rhyme slayer, ninja star sprayer, verbal style player
My lyrical decimated his rock rhyme layer
If flew through the night, its target right on sight, my rhymes so tight
I took a bite dodged his lyrical spray ninja flight, through the trees like a kite
Tried to catch me with his boomerang knife pronoun spray height
He tried to spread his fear, trying to trap me in his devil’s sphere
What’s he saying “Not quite the right direction, the way to Hell is right here!”

I’ve mastered the technique of Stargate, so I already anticipated your fate
Narrowed it down to the time and date
Played you like a one move checkmate
Smoke you in a bong, give praise to the philosophy phong
Demonstrate the technique Gangus Khan
You weep in fear, realizing I’ve reached my last rhyming sphere
I’ve switched to the sixed gear, your oblivion is near, my absolute victory is here
I rhymed you black and blue, this level of rhyming you never knew
I took that weak MC ass to school, showed you this symmetrical rhyming tool…
I’m not done with you yet you’ve gotta pay back for the last 20 souls you met.
The most ignorant fool would make the sure bet
Played you like a marionette
Six bullet game of Russian roulette
At my dollar store your rhyme credit card I reject

My words become visible, the air thick with syllables
These rhyme skill’s intangible, I’m the MC vandal
My consonants perform cold fusion
On your face a look of fear and delusion
This is the start of the death trinity, mastered only by T5B:
Time is the first of the three weapons
Free you from this earth you’ll never see heaven
You won’t die once, you’ll die seven
5 is the sign, once you see this you know you’ve gone blind
Your last chance of salvation left with my first weapon time
My constant persistence overcame your marginal resistance
You showed me death, but I didn’t flinch or save my breath
I simply recalculated my course and used the full power of Brute Force
AAAAA…AA
Cries from Tesai as he slowly dies…

Ninja Scroll Resurrection

by Abinyah Walker



Ninja Scroll: Resurrection


The saga continues as the now seven devil’s of kimone attempt to avenge the death of one of their own. Our protagonist must do battle with more strange magic.



They will never leave you alone, for you have already killed one of the eight devil’s of Kimone!

Hello Stranger… welcome to my death chamber
These snakes ‘aint tamer, word flamer,
Devil of Kimone, got a chill to the bone
I killed Tesai one of their strongest guys
With the skill Gangus Khan, smoked him in a bong
But my face he copied in his palm
Now I’m being hunted a strange magic I’m being blunted
Her rhyme melodic, very demonic through to my brain rap sonic
Potent like Hydroponic, but I broke free purely tectonic
Her snakes I baked but her skin’s a fake?
What magic is this, what poison this makes
It’s a cast off skin, fake rhymes needles & pins
Through the air sickening hymns the full moon dims
What’s this an attack from above through the air like doves
Dodge with a slice from my lyrical dice
Triple six is what these devil’s pick
Its like they’ve got swords and I’ve got sticks

Tic goes the time as once again lightning strikes
Its T5B spitting blinding rhymes
Cracking each vertebrae of the spin
Technique of the stanza combined
Slice you with the endless rhyme
Techniques defined by the Regent’s mind
Consonants in time, resounds like a chime
Adding you up like dimes
Rhyming prosody making you laugh like Bill Cosby
Ninja star spray delivering highs like a caffeine tray
Engulfed by rage, disintegrate your phrase like the fage
Perfectly executed Shakespearean stage
Locked your cage with my pantomime burnt your rap page
Your conceit is weak you’re an inch and I’m a million feet
My words lightning swords cut through you like card board
Similes I horde, a flinch you can’t afford
I take you on a tour as I add up the score
Two devils down what you lost I found
I tame hell’s hounds though Shemoda village your poisonous deceit
Two devils down.

My energy condense hence your future I put in the past tense
Your revenge is misplaced my rhymes so potent you can taste
T5B: all up in your face to resolve this case
I wreak havoc as you cross the finish line in last place.
You weak emcee’s so cheap you took back the piss that you peed
It’s all ‘cause of your greed, it’s not the money you need
A few similes ABAB when I produce sick rhymes you flee
What’s written on the dead? Give into need so hatred you can feed
Plead for your life, for when I strike life doesn’t seem so nice
Trice my rhymes poisoned you like mice
For when I splice I’m cool as ice, when I pray you death comes twice.

Devil’s fall, from the rhyme God I call
As I made a new friend this day through chivalry
Simultaneously producing the heaven of their misery

El Cayo,by Abinyah Walker,written October 20,1999

 

El Cayo

 

              They lined us up. Our backs facing the fast moving Usumacita River. They stared us down with their AK-47s trained on us.  It was execution time.  This would be the perfect time for my loyal following of ninjas to strike out from the dark.  I  regret now not forming the ninja clan in my university days.  But even now my exaggerated sense of humor wasn’t appropriate as three archeologists, five workers and I stood motionless, the sounds of the jungle and the rush of the river filling the air while we wait to be shot.

 

              This wasn’t how I planned the expedition to go at all, trust me.  I organized this expedition six months ago with the help of my colleague Matt Peters to examine and catalogue the ruins at El Cayo; located in the remote corner of southern Mexico neighboring Guatemala.  We spent most of our time mapping our expedition from the University of Calgary. Gaining the appropriate government papers, we knew the risks and the troubles in this region of the world. This was no vacation. In 1994, the Zapatista revolutionaries led by Subcommander Marcos occupied this area. It was their way of attracting world attention to the prevalent poverty and we would be taking advantage of this.  We were aware that these jungles were rampant with smugglers, drug runners and remnants of the Zapatista and the countless criminals freed from prison by them.  We calculated that at worse we would be kidnapped, robbed, and then forced to go home empty handed.  A small price to pay for examining these treasures I argued selflessly to the committee.  Besides, I had spent time here before befriending the Mayans and twenty years earlier deciphering the ancient Mayan language, gaining deep knowledge to the meaning of the ruins.  This was a milestone, attracting much needed international attention.  The ruins brought tourism and pesos to the surrounding villages, I could use these facts.  But really I had come back for a 2000-year-old relic discovered on my last visit. I was unable to bring it back safely.  Now i was given permission to recover an altar carved from solid limestone. It weighed three tons, perfectly round and in excellent condition.  A similar find sold for half a million. But I was going to study the ruins, not peddle its riches to the highest bidder.  I confess this wasn’t the only reason I decided to come back.  I had also discovered something priceless... Its jewels.  A football sized ruby cradled between two stelas buried inside the pyramid.  I only saw it through the cracks of this six-ton sarcophagus but before I could retrieve it we were forced to flee in haste.  Its vision has possessed me ever since I first laid eyes on it six years earlier.  I had planned many trips back but it had been too dangerous.  The revolution had left hundreds dead and many more missing and it hadn’t been wise to risk my life retrieving it.  With looting yielding tremendous financial gain, El Cayo was attracting ruthless treasure hunters.  It had been rumored that even Lara Croft was planing her own raid.

              We reached El Cayo on August 8th, rested and scaled the altar early the next morning only to find it had been partially uncovered and scarred with looter’s pickaxes.  We were just in time and we started work immediately.  Costa Anaya, a Mexican graduate, who had worked with Matt and I for years began mapping the East Side of El Cayo.  Anesto Corzon was a coordinator and archeologist for the Mexican department of Culture and supervised the removal of the debris on top of the altar.  Brom Cosat, a local Mayan, made sure nothing was being damaged in the process.  He was also in charge of the retrieval of this relic.  We had organized the transportation of the altar by military helicopter that would take it to a museum where it could be properly protected.  I dragged Matt to a secluded part of El Cayo were I led him down a path almost impenetrable by overgrowth. 

to be continued...

El Cayo (continued... 1)

El Cayo,by Abinyah Walker,written October 20,1999

 

El Cayo

...continued

 

“Where are we going?”  He demanded, and in an excited voice I responded.

              “You’ll see, we’re almost there!”  The thick brush pieced my palms as I pushed my way through.  It gave way to a chamber only three meters high and in the centre a large sarcophagus.

              “There it is.” I said with triumph.  Matt behind me stood in awe at what I had led him to.  I quickly moved to were I remembered the crack had been, and lying down on my side I peered inside.  I shined my pocket Mag-light to see it reflect off a shiny ruby.

              “Ha ha.” I laughed “it’s still here.  Matt get over here.”  I got up to make room as he mimicked my position.  “This is the real reason why we’re here.”  He shined his light around.

              “What am I—.”  He cut himself off.  “Is that what I think it is?”

              “It’s the biggest ruby I’ve ever seen! I discovered it when I was last here.  But I couldn’t bring it back… Help me get this thing off!”  I yelled forcing the lid to one side.  Matt jumped up and helping me push.

              “Wait.” He said a few moments later. “Can we do this.  We should call Corzon and

get—.”  I grabbed him by the shirt and pulling him in stared into his eyes.

              “You crazy?  I didn’t risk my neck to hand this over to Corzon or the Mexicans.  Now stop talking crazy and help me get this thing off.”  I held him a while as it sunk in.  Then we were back to work.  But we didn’t get far before we heard screaming and weird noises coming from all around.  We abandoned our efforts to investigate.

              Emerging from the bush, I carefully covered back the entrance before joining up with the rest of the expedition.

              “What’s going on?” I demanded hurrying back.  As I said so the surrounding jungle became alive.  Virtually materializing out of the thick brush forty or so men moved swiftly into the clearing.  They appeared to be farmers from a nearby village.  They were not large men, but the flex of their arms and the machetes they carried was very intimidating.  Their skill with this instrument was unsurpassed.  Having had watched them work in the fields and the ease with which they disposed of eighty-foot snakes made us all uneasy.  They demanded to know what the archeologist were doing here, and Anesto Corzon began to explain our intentions.  They were close, too close.  I glanced at one of the men’s machetes and back up to see his eyes that had an unearthly glow and clearly fixed to mine as a weird shiver shot through my body.  Corzon presented the government papers from both Mexican and local Mayan governments, which proved we had permission for this dig.  However government seals didn’t carry much weight in these parts and sure didn’t ease the tension with armed men surrounding us.  The Mayans left with the papers, vanishing the same way they came back into the jungle.  They left three men behind to observe us as we slowly continued our work.  Like the dire creatures of myth, these stone sentinels observed us.

              “What are we gonna do about the ruby?” Matt’s whispers to me were strained.

              “We can’t go back now. I’ll find a way.” I reassured.  Eventually we were all huddled together to contemplate our position.  They had been taught in well-lit institutions and foraged through University libraries; they weren’t used to digging in treacherous jungle let alone under armed guard by this most unnatural audience.

              “I say we cover back the altar and get the hell out of here!”  Anaya exclaimed.  I was the only one who objected to the idea.  Matt didn’t say anything he simply had that look he gets after an intense session of soporific narcotics.  I looked down at his hands to see them trembling.

              “Guys, by tomorrow we’ll have the altar dug up and by the afternoon the chopper will be here, and then we can kiss this place goodbye.” I insisted but was outnumbered and it was decided that we should rebury the altar.  They pilled on large stones hoping that it would dissuade looters and by tomorrow we would be well on our way back to civilization.  That night nobody slept and my hopes for retrieving the ruby began to fade.  By the next morning when darkness began to give way to light I went to find the opening, but pushing through the brush I so carefully arranged to look natural only found solid rock.  Perhaps too good of a job, as I stood baffled and unusually worried. While the rest pilled on the rocks it turned out the Mayans had no intention of leaving us alone as once again they spilled out of the jungle.  They ordered us to suspend work immediately.  They produced our government papers and as Corzon moved to collect it they burst into flames before him.

 

to be continued...

El Cayo (continued... 2)

El Cayo

 

...continued

 

“We don’t recognize any Mexican or Mayan government.  In these parts we are the law.”  The leader iterated in a stern empyrean voice.  We simply stood motionless, frozen by the realization that we were in a real fix.  But the boat we had requested the night before could be heard descending the Usumacinta River.  We could pack our equipment, gather our belongings and be out in a matter of minutes.  We began to collect out things only to learn that the boat had been dispatched by the armed Mayans.  Matt dropped his gear were he stood and seemed to contemplate futility.  We heard our salvation motor off and just when we thought it couldn’t get grimmer, another seventy Mayans materialized from the jungle.  They told us that they were direct descendants of the Mayans who built the altar.

              “And there’s no way we’re gonna let you deface it.”  The chieftain assured. They ordered us to recover the altar and seal it with cement.  They ordered us to give them money to buy cement from a local village.  While we waited for the cement to arrive one of our Mayans exchanged harsh words with our captors.  I tried to go over and resolve the situation but Matt held me back.  I watched as they dragged one of our workers off noisily tied him to a tree and converged on him in an unearthly manner, and we never saw him again.  His horrified screams echoed his eulogy. 

              The cement arrived as the sun began to fall.  It shone wonderfully with a demonic red glow that could be seen reflecting off the Usumacita River further down stream.  With the cement more men followed, this time carrying rifles and AK-47s. They came out of the jungle in a more aggressive way and told Matt who originally gave them the money that they needed more. We were shocked and huddled together to collect only $800 more pesos. We had lost count of how many Mayans had gathered around us and the sun was fading fast in the west; and as the bloody sun fell and gave way to darkness, extortion turned into all out piracy.  We were stripped of our equipment, food and supplies.  They even stole the boots off our feet, leaving us only in our under clothes.  The situation began to feel hopeless as we stood closely together.  I contemplated pleading with our captors but with darkness fully upon us I didn’t know whom to address.  They ravaged our belongings mostly interested in our clothing and gear.  I saw the opening we used to get here and contemplated making a break for it.  One of the Mayans came up to us, and seeing we had nothing left, motioned us to leave.  We quickly glanced at each other making sure we all understood the same thing, the bolted towards the opening.

              Each step hurt at first but our fears shut out the pain as we tore through the heavy bush.  Just as we though we were out of there we heard gun shots.  Reaching the bank of the Usumacinta bullets whizzed past us and we stood frozen in our tracks.  We turned to face the bandits who descended out of the jungle like hungry wolves in close pursuit of their pray.  The smaller group of five or so seemed to be even more dangerous as there were fewer witnesses.  They lined us up along the bank, their guns trained on us.  A couple of them walked up to me, being the first in line and stared me down, his eyes a fearsome glow.  I glared back searching for the confidence I once exhumed, but found none left.  Abandoned by confidence and accompanied by fear he lifted his gun above his head.  The blows came swiftly as I was knocked to the ground.  Flashes of light seemed to be the last thing I would see as they beat and kicked me.

              When I came to it was still dark and the air was still.  I was excited to feel the pain shoot through my body; at least I wasn’t dead. I turned my head to see that nobody was exempt from their gracious affections.  My innards hurt and my testicles still throbbed with pain and I lay there curled up sobbing to myself before I gained the strength and courage to see if my comrades escaped with the same fortune I had.  Struggling to my feet I was bleeding everywhere.  I stumbled towards Matt to see him still breathing and the others as well.  It took some time for all of them to get back to their feet.  We examined each other: Costa Anaya had a badly broken nose, Anesto Corzon had internal bleeding and needed immediate medical attention, Matt Peters suffered a few broken ribs and had trouble breathing, Brom Cosat and the rest of us had less serious injuries. I was bleeding from the eyes and it was difficult to see.  Night was beginning to give way to day and we decided to get as far away from EL Cayo as possible before the bandits and the Mayans change their minds and decide we are better off dead.  Matt, Costa and I decided we should cross the Usumacinta into Guatemala, however our Mayan friends urged us to cross the farm fields.  We argued.  The Usumacinta was a fast moving river which could get very deep suddenly with engulfing undertows, besides Brom couldn’t swim.  Few have ever tried to swim across, and in our weakened condition it would be exponentially difficult.  The alternative had us roaming through farm fields where we could be easy pray for trigger happy Mayans.  We agreed to split up, the Mayans and the government officials would trek through the farm fields while the rest of us would face the raging river.

 

to be continued...