alex-dangerhorse-knapp
American
snap clack bang, i like poetry from real feeling people, i'm much more of a beatnik than a classic, preferring boldly spit, in your face, subsectioned off glimpses of reality, than subtly spun delicately dripped artsy fartsy facades. but also i guess, beautiful things are beautiful things. so never say never. PEACE.
the early bird gets the worm, but what about the hundred other birds that are just as early, what happened to their chance to recover, surely, they deserve some pride, a bit of face and a dash of self respect, who chooses who gets famous for their skills on the decks, while someone just as good sits back and they can't catch wreck? i don't understand, what people do when they are living without a plan, and hardly any love from uncle sam, or any guidance from brothermans, so what makes a bird get out of bed in the morning mourning, aching, gotta drag yourself through the day thats forming, your breaking, and who the **** is fixed anyway.
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 6:02 PM UTC
i want to learn more about chemistry and a glimmer of astronomy,
more insight into equine dentistry, and maybe a little of what's wrong with me,
why i cant seem to every get my act together,
why my feet fall far from themselves, my footsteps look so scattered,
purposelessly, i desperately crave for them to have mattered.
why i cant stop destroying beautiful things,
and why i cant stop feeling like a caged bird that sings.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 2:04 PM UTC
tears well, i start chokin'
thinking, am i broken
head's gone soft from the potent **** that i've been smokin,
i look inside to breathe things i try to defy
sometimes one sighs at lifes many try-
ing moments, but sometimes life slips you a challenge
and before your eyes
you acknowledge the gap
and start to rise
and defy the norms of human interaction
remove the de- from the motivational caption
and now through rappin, i'm exploring my mind
sometimes shocked
sometimes intrigued by the **** that i find.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 1:01 PM UTC
ey yo if you think that 9/11 **** is crazy, take a closer look at jfk pushing those daisies, you could mistake this for the facts of life theme song, sticking its head up the rabbit hole and now you just seem gone, but if you grab on tight and then you pull it, up comes boundless theories of grassy knolls and magic bullets, wheres the love when a 10 year old can a spot a liar with his vision, swiftly points a fat finger at the entire warren commission, what happened we all forgot how to ask questions? lips tremble from a holstered police smith and wesson, never stopped to think if its just water their testing, scapegoats getting arrested, and then promptly murdered, just to take this trip a little further, leaving a **** taste in your mouth like ******* down an entire bag of werthers,
people laugh at 9/11 **** and downplay all the evidence,
but would you put it past a country that murdered their president,
for political gain, theyll put 4 shots through mine and your brain, keep us detained, for days, chuck us in guantamo bay, and then one day we're on a plane flying towards some towers, or wait no we're picking out flowers, bang flash, for my wife, shroedinger's life on the end of this knife, so stop you ***** just listen, this **** may seem sick and twisted, but please wait there is absolutely no reason we live in a police state, thats just what you've been told needs to be done, had consumerism forced down you, and you're told to have fun, and you say thank you and walk way, i'll take my stand another day. and yeah that farmer was an ******* i loved when he got overthrown by the pigs, but we'll wake up one morning and want bacon for breakfast ya dig?
quis custodiet ipsos custodes
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 12:56 PM UTC
Rainy Manchester nights bash against the windows,
I can feel the winds of change assaulting my psyche
for better or for worse? With each passing verse,
I become less sure, but I know that these
things make me happy, make me smile
and for a while, these are the things that I need
I need to live, and to feel, nothing good comes
from hiding yourself away in your castle
out of your comfort zone, into another facet of your psyche's
comfort zone, home is where the heart is,
but where is the heart most comfortable,
but when I can't tell what language to speak
to myself, how can I tell what language to speak to others,
in a world, where no one understands what they mean
how can you properly explain how you feel.
How can you translate a genuine feeling to others
when its so hard to feel genuinely.
I want to speak in absolutes,
I want to breathe definitively and to know
what I know, and what I believe,
needs to be what I know, and what I believe.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 12:49 PM UTC