The illest Mc of Patsianos Village
Text: Spyros Chatzigiannis
My grandfather was a shepherd and a shoe fixer. His Mind was a Rhyme Mixer. Cretan and Proud, Always Loud, He Knew He Always had the Right Ideas and Sound.
His Four Verses ‘Mantinades’ Were Legendary And his village’s ( Patsianos at the region of Sfakia of the Greek island of Crete) Crew Were Treating Him Like The Best Intellectual Mercenary.
My Grandfather did not know that he was an Mc, the Most Cultivated, never verbally intimidated and with fresh, freestyle ideas that were never outdated.
My Grandfather was a Strange and Shadowy Man, a Prisoner from the Cretan Rebel Clan.
His Gaze was Harder than the curved, on a hard stone, Maize.
He was born to Amaze and his Village’s Imagination to another Solar System to send it to Create There his Own Intergalactically Innovative and Futuristic Base.
My Sagittarius Grandfather died old and lonely.
He Was Patsianos’s Illest Freestyle MC.