Malcolm

Malcolm Apr 2

Once again the light of night stares deeply,
Moon’s got me, fingers in my skull,
cracking, peeling, tearing at thoughts
let me be,
I never gave permission for
laughing, smirking
like it owns the night,
like it owns the pain that won’t let me go.

Time folds itself like crumbling paper,
rips apart, mends itself wrong
Minute by minute,
one AM, two, three, four, six,
numbers, fragments, slipping through fingers,
nothing makes sense but the heaviness.
One more hour, one more moment,
and I’m still awake,
count sheep, count dogs, count cats
Nothing!

Sleep? A liar,
a trick of the light,
a hallway that leads nowhere,
a door that doesn’t open
I chase it,
fall into it,
but I wake,
each time
repeating
staring at the ceiling,
listening to the wall breathe,
mind racing away from me,
why won't you let me be.

If I could
I would tear the moon from the sky,
break his light,
fold him into something small,
a paper boat,
something that could sail off,
something I can crush.
But no,
I watch
smug, distant,
untouchable,
repeated,
the moon, laughing.

And me?
I’m a shadow of a shadow,
too awake to sleep,
too tired to be.
The body is a thought,
the thought is a whisper
where am I,
what is this,
where did the night go?

I watch myself,
waiting,
waiting,
waiting
until I collapse or fade,
until the universe sighs,
until time stops pretending,
until sleep gives in
or I let go.

Malcolm Apr 2

BLOOD IN MY CHAMPAGNE - FINAL PART

Yeah, yeah, last round, last sin, last down.
Pour me a drink, let the games begin, big grin no frown,
let's get down.

I like my girls like I like my life,
Wild as hell with a touch of strife.
Down under, right *****, word to the wise,
I lick ‘em up slick, watch the fire in their eyes,
Pick up lines? Nah, just pick up legs,
They here for a night, they ain’t here to beg.

Stick up—this ain't no robbery, slobbery.
Hands up high while lips stick and gobble me,
Wobble please, yeah, tease me slow,
Spice in the breeze, on her knees, let’s go.
Veronica, Sandy, don’t matter the name,
Long as she game, we play the same,
Slam me down like a poetry battle,
**** right, revision, slam night position,
No intermission, just pure ambition,
Next day still wet and wishing.
Ain’t no rules, just break that bed,in her head.

Laugh at the law, let ‘em count the dead,
Yeah, yeah, I live life free,
Ain’t no government controlling me, eyes see. ******* to the piggies as they go wee wee .

Smoke up, sip slow, world stay burning, let's go,
They preach control, but I ain’t concerned with
No king, no leash, no ******* master,
Just me, my sins, and a heart that beats faster. Disaster

So let’s toast to the ones who never bowed,
To the freaks, the rebels, the lost and found,
Ain’t no chains that can hold us down, souls that wanna get down,
Blood in my champagne, let’s burn this town to the ground.

Malcolm Mar 31

Blood in my Champagne

Anyone interested in writing a 4th or 5th for my track BLOOD IN MY CHAMPAGNE?

https://youtu.be/8PpuK0AtMkQ?

Needs to fit over that beat and follow the theme, you will get a honorable mention and a credit on the track

Here are the lyrics so far

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/5020992/blood-in-the-champagne/

Malcolm Mar 31

BLOOD IN THE CHAMPAGNE

https://youtu.be/8PpuK0AtMkQ

Yeah, step back, Nah, step forward, chin up, take that. I ain't here for the handshake chat, I'm here for the matchstick scratch, The backstreet rats, The black-tar facts that they never dispatch.

Yeah, watch me carve my name in the side of a church, Spitting like a gutter when the heavens all burst, Lip-split venom, ink-stained denim, Mad dog grin with a backstreet emblem.

All of these ******* flash their teeth, Talk like kings, but their crowns ain't cheap, All that silk just hides the rot in em Gold-plated teeth where the worms still feast.

Yeah, yeah, I hear the chat, Big-boy flex but your spine stay cracked, Money so long but your soul stay trapped, Penthouse view but your heart’s pitch-black.

Gimme that pen, let me spit pure venom, Words hit sharp like a switchblade lesson, I ain't in the mood for a soft-boy session, I talk like war and I walk like a weapon.

Yeah, life gave pain, so I sip champagne Till my teeth turn black and my fists feel sane, Gutter-born son with a Godless name, Danced on the edge and I ain't feel shame.

Yeah, I see them all lurking, Fangs in the flesh of the broke and the burdened, Talk about power like they earned it,
What a joke, But they just stole from the kids and the nurses, got fresh rhymes and title verses.

Yeah you know, I been low, I been drunk on the floor of a high-rise window, I been lost in a room full of eyes like gun barrels, Hand on the bottle like it's holding my halo, no pray no, lets let go.

But I ain't done yet, I ain't laid flat, I ain't cashed out, I ain't played that, I ain't one for the quiet or tame acts, I spit like a riot in a tin-can train track wreck,what more could you expect.

Yeah, let the world burn, Let the sky split, Let the flames turn every glass house sick, Let the wolves come, I don't fear their tricks, I'm the one that taught them how to lick their lips.

So pour me a glass, Pour me a casket, Pour me the ashes of every fake *******, Every backstabber, every fraud with a mask, I'll sip that slow, let the poison last.

Yeah, yeah, step back, Nah, step forward, chin up, take that. I ain't here for the handshake chat, I'm here for the matchstick scratch, The backstreet rats, The black-tar facts that they never dispatch, what can I say I still got blood in my champagne and a grinny tic tac.

BLOOD IN THE CHAMPAGNE (second part )

Yeah, I hear that, I smell the smoke,
Ain't no peace when the leash still chokes, bars like a white horned goat,
They print their lies, they sell their quotes,
But I read between every crack in the roads.

Yeah, you sip that venom, I sip mine neat, let's go
Lies on the lips but they kiss my feet,
They built their walls, they stack their fleets,
But a real revolution don’t tweet tweet, it bleeds.

See, I was raised where the streetlights stutter,
Mouth full of dust, bare hands bleeding knuckles in the gutter,
Fed on the echoes of every lost brother, eyes of another crying mother,
Now I carve their names in the bones of the structure.

And they wanna talk power? Let’s talk theft,
Let’s talk hands in the pockets of the dying and the deaf,
Let’s talk leaders that drink till there’s nothing left,
Then lick the glass clean while they grin at our deaths.

Nah, I ain't got patience, I ain't got time,
I ain't got love for a snake in a tie,
I ain't got space in my chest for a lie,
So I stitch my heart shut and I sharpen my mind.

I been low, I been high,
I been down where the devils all barter their sight,
I been up where the saints got a price on their light,
Now I stand with my sins and I set ‘em alight.

So pour me a glass, pour me a promise,
Pour me the truth from the depths of the dishonest,
I sip that slow, yeah, let the world watch it,
Blood in my champagne, toast to the carnage.

BLOOD IN THE CHAMPAGNE (Final Verse)

Yeah, yeah, blood in my champagne, sippin’ on pain,
Cottonmouth fiends got their tongues in the drain,
Licking windows, eyes dead in the rain,
Moving stash just to live, what’s the price on a name? Yeah pain .

Fat rats act like cats, diggin’ in the yards for scratch,
Diggin’ up bones of the past while the people just sit in the dark,
Politicians think they kings but they dont all play their parts,
Got this city on lockdown, padlocked hearts now, while love fall they forgot now.

Don’t mess with me or you’ll see,
I don’t just spit venom, I’m pure anarchy,
No time for whispers, no time for silly malarkey,
Two shots—bang! And you buried in a field or down town parky.

Crosshair ****** in a tree? Nah that's not me.
Hidden in clear sight, I’m a shadow in the dark night heat, I'm quick on my feet,
Kung fu warrior, I know how to fight,
Not like Sally, *****, I don’t bark—I straight up bite.

Yeah, when I was young, I would mutter,
Gutter-born kid, ate dry bread—no butter, no stutter just words in my head,
Now I sit back, watch the world burn slow,
What the **** can I say? I reap what I sow.

Getting laid every way in the middle of the day,
Stacking bricks, flipping keys, made a way,
While the weak still pray, hands out, empty plates,
While the sharks cut deals in the halls of the state.

Step back—politicians never learning, cold world turning
Wait ‘til this *******’ system start burning,
Don’t come running when your world stops turning,
Like a fake player, empty prayer or Missie in a turban

Yeah, yeah, I see them fiends still crawling, players be ballin
Teeth rot black, souls all fallen,
Selling their breath for a dime on the corner,
Chasing that high like a priest with an order.

What’s the struggle when you fight to survive?
Day to day, can you make it alive?
Blood in my champagne, death in my eyes,
If I see tomorrow, then I call it a prize.

Yeah, yeah, blood in my glass,
Pour out the truth, let it burn, let it last,
Let the world rot, let the sky split,
Let the wolves come—I ain’t scared of ****.

Malcolm Mar 30

Thorns that Bloom

I would have given you the sky
ripped it down in ribbons,
torn from the blooms of wild orchids,
stretched it between my hands
a trembling net
and let the silver spill
through your fingers like petal-fractured glass.

But I was born
with empty pockets,
lungs full of jasmine dreams,
too many blooms crushed underfoot,
too little space to let them grow.

So I lay them at your feet
stitched with lavender
tattered blueprints
of something holy.

Walk softly
even roses have thorns.

You move like ink
bleeding into midnight
a shadow wrapped in the cool petals of forget-me-nots,
spine carved from hunger,
the moon bends,
spills its cold teeth
against your cheek,
and even the stars
whisper your name
every shade tangled in your gaze
light and dark
ruin and rapture.

Love is thorns
in bloom
in its buried root.

Wild roses
know no master,
They drink from the throat of storms,
They spit blood from its petals.

Some flowers
endures when winter
gnaws the bones,
splitting skin like frost-kissed razors.
Beauty cuts,
sweetness scars,
and yet—still,
still
we reach for it
with bloodied hands,
with thorn pricked fingers,
fingers cracked open like rusted doors.

I lost it then
the moment splitting like a cracked mirror
I didn’t know.

Would I have held tighter?
Could I?
Not sure
it just slipped away,
like fallen petals in the wind.

They tell me,
it’s nothing to grieve,
nothing to hold.
Still, I’m empty
waiting
did I lose you
or was I already gone?

And I wonder now,
was it worth it
this burn in my chest,
this hole in my heart,
the way your name sticks like honey on my tongue
what can I say
I didn’t see it coming,
just a sharp pull, like roots tangled beneath skin.

Time folds,
Time changes,
the way a rose blooms and fades
each petal a lost whisper in the dark.

But I never forget,
How can I forget,
I wish
I could forget,
Sometimes,

I see your face,
shadows under your eyes,
the way you move
your scent that dances
upon summers breeze
and I wonder,
was it just the wind?

Or did we leave something in each other,
something that was carved into each other soul
something so real it hurts,
something that cannot die?

Some things bloom slow
from a fallen seed
roots unseen
knotted veins in the gut of the earth
and by the time we know,
they are already part of us,
vines that have crept into
who we are.

If I could remember
the first time
your breath bent the air near mine
would I have held it closer?

Made a shrine
of the moment?
Or was it meant to slip
traceless
faceless,
so I could spend a lifetime
searching
for its echo?
for a memory I can't forget.

Malcolm Mar 29

Fading Lights

If the gnawing ache of age
is the shadow that lengthens,
how can I stand with knees buckled by the weight
of years gone to rot,
seasons past,
my hands twisted like dry vines,
my breath stolen by a clock I never set?
Let the dirt claim me before I fall apart
Let the storms pull me onwards
Let the tides sweep me away
Let me skip the slow descent,
skip the waiting for my bones to turn to dust,
for why should the season
fall.

If I must choke on the absence of affection,
breathless and cold,
if love is but a hollow dream
that turns to mist when touched by light,
crumbling like dust,
how can I drag myself through another day,
no longer do I call,
the quiet screams echoing in my ribs,
whispers of a touch never felt?
Let me bury all that I once hoped for,
let me seal it behind a door I will never open,
quiet and eternal.

The world outside is a shroud of ash,
the sun a smudge on the horizon,
smears of orange yellow gold,
each gust of wind cutting through my chest
like jagged glass,
burning what last exists
In me,
The soil holds on to its dying roots,
but every gust sends more bones to this precious earth
this is the silence that holds my name.
My life is the echo of things broken,
things lost, shattered stains of glass,
those old forgotten songs,
when roads taken that lead to null,
a thud of footsteps that never find rest,
walking the path of nothing.

I long for stillness,
but the clock keeps ticking,
mocking my empty hands,
mocking my broken soul,
all that has been longed for,
never shall be known
Behind the clouds, the sun sits
a pale witness to the slow burn of all things.
I carry this weight as I was meant to,
a heritage of sorrow sewn into my flesh
by ancestors who knew the cost of survival,
those who took more,
those who left less.

In the room by the window,
I stare at the void,
empty,
my gaze as heavy as the weight I carry.
The pills sit untouched,
like promises that never come true.
Depression grows quietly,
Regrets follow
a shadow pulling the veil tighter.

I say I feel nothing.
But I see the hollow where my heart used to beat,
the hole time has worn,
It’s a heavy silence I share
the kind that drowns you without a sound.

Don’t fret, I tell myself,
this too shall pass.
(Lies.)
It will be over soon.
(Lies.)
like eyes that stare into the distance.

I say this to myself.
Softly,
And to the mirror that refuses to show me the truth.

Let me sit beneath a sky that doesn't care.
Let me listen to the wind,
Let me feel the rays upon my skin,
if only it would speak a truth that isn’t hollow.
I will love you, forever and softly,
like a wound that never fully heals,
open and dripping,
always.

Let me remain in my room,
my sacred space,
a stranger to the light,
a friend to the darkness,
a silhouette,
in shaded hues,
Let me weave the remnants of a life that never took form,
in the sleep of each day,
shattered fragments,
plague broken thoughts,
and I will love you, fiercely,
like a storm that never ends,
like the wind that uproots the fields,
like the ocean reshaping the shore,
until time calls my soul,
for what can change time.

Let me run through the fields
like a wild thing,
like my memories of youth,
no chains, no boundaries.
Until the cold winds of autumn
come creeping,
come calling,
the inevitable,
until they strip me bare and carry me away.

I will wait,
not for the end,
but for the quiet that follows,
the quiet yonder
unknown.

Malcolm Mar 29

The Fall ...

Once Upon A Time there was a...
Ha
Happiness is a fairy tale they tell you
when they don’t want to hear you scream.
Sadness?
Sadness is real,
It's the real way you feel
Inside!
Why hide?
It’s a wolf with its teeth in your throat,
holding you just soft enough
so you bleed slow,
life flow.

It doesn’t knock.
It doesn’t creep.
It erupts
an explosion
like a sinkhole under your ribcage,
pure rage
like an earthquake in your skull,
those things that leave you dull,
like the sudden snap of a rope
that was the only thing keeping you upright,
the joke?
the smoke,
the dope,
bitter,
then lost.

One day, you’re fine
or maybe you’re faking fine,
or maybe just buying time,
or maybe just spinning,
waiting for the fall!
who the **** knows anymore
and then the floor forgets how to be solid.
Gravity betrays you.
The air turns to ice,
and you are falling,
falling,
falling,
but never fast enough to die,
only to feel every second of the
constant
descent.

Your body still moves.
You laugh in the right places,
trading real for open spaces,
A nod at the right times,
Singing the song,
Humming the same rhyme
but inside
inside, you're rotting.
Inside, you are an abandoned house,
windows shattered, walls crumbling,
nothing left but the echo
of something that used to be,
alive.
living isn't called living,
when we call it just
survive.

People throw words like lifelines
"Don't worry."
"It gets better."
"You just have to try."
"Be strong."
But not one of them looks down.
Not one of them sees
the bones piled at the bottom,
the ones who fell first,
the ones who never climbed out,
the ones that fell before,
the quiet door invites,
All!

we treat this like a
vacation,
your next destination?
avoiding life
in it's glorious frustration,
when your voice turns to dust,
when the weight crushes your ribs,
shatters bone to tiny little piercing splinters,
when even screaming feels like a lie
maybe then
you will understand the truth:

There is no rope.
There is no exit.
Only the fall,
And it never
stops.