Ayyy wonda youre an Alien

Introducing Mr.Wondz, one of the dopest up and coming producers on the UK urban music scence, had the pleasure of creating this mural style peice. Based on his indentity and his energy , mr wonds is a colorful creative, but i find a lot of his work to be more than what just hits the surface. I wanted to create a painting that demanded a second look for the producers whos beats demand a second listen!

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heres a track he produced for grime artist cadet in 2015 called ‘slut’

Flower 

Now Deeply rooted in my grey matter, emotions stem from a flower that never leaves. I lay there, mired in thought, wondering how different my plot would be, if her seeds were never sown… If she had never grown on me…

Her petals shine like gold medals, on my podium of pandemonium, cropping up ever more awesome with each blossom…implanted in my dreams, almost magically…

Tragically, She radically soils my clarity…
I work tirelessly to harvest reality, supersede her from train of thought, weed her from my memories…an endless lobotomy, aimed at this enigmatic botany… My efforts are fruitless…

But the truth is, she is not to blame for this matter, It was I who plowed my grey matter, till it was conducive, exclusively for… my flower

gibberish

Poor planner, sky scanner, bright banners.

Post bills on my boredom. post pills to my manners

Swallow tablets in the dessert,  burning bushes converse, speaking  my gibberish. Teach a man to fish.

A whethered broomstick sweeps a which of her feet. Openly discrete, partially complete. A massive machine  to tow my toe from my feat’s feet.

Feverish till the system glitch hits fever pitch. Sky scanner, lies on the horizon. wretched may eat the rich. Ill manners may make many a madman in my manor

 

 

 

Shock therapy 

Distorted echoes bounce around your walls more and more frequently… you inevitably tune into the frequency, just to see, if you find any truth at all…

You soon become entangled in the cables of fables…now no longer able, to tune out, eternally blinded by the noise. permanently haunted by hysteric images , which you can’t stand not to understand…

logic remains elusive, the chaos becomes delusive, you begin to feel violated as the pitch becomes intrusive, tsunami sized radio waves wash what’s left of your hope away.

Reoccurring Visions of manic men exploding, leave your frame of mind in panic mode. Your eyes overflow, as you feel you’re soul erode. gradually losing your Senses to a sensory overload…

now even with your ears shut and your eyes closed. you can still make out the menacing melody that kidnapped you back to the worst days… you signal SOS, no ones receiving, your pleas are silent phrases…

your sense of direction evaporates into a maze, your days diffuse into a daze, ever more awestruck and amazed, as your  ideals are quickly bewildered in a wilderness of satellite signals beaming…holding out for a sign that an Editor erased.

The negative nostalgia inflicts intense headaches. you seek brief moments of  refuge while you try to get ahead of it, Like a medic, mid epidemic, trying to find the antidote, yet destined to get infected, by a plague they once rejected as a threat….

Symbols of peace turn to rubble, you feel your heart burst with your bubble, while watching structures you trust turn to dust…Your future steeled in the rust,  soon you accept that disaster is your fate, although not one you deserve.

The virtual torture you’ve rapidly grown to hate, integrates with your mental traits… The strength you tried to demonstrate only decorates the hot plate as an hors-d’oeuvre…

Political predators swarm in, to capitalise on your vegetative state…