i am hauling the ruins of war
the haggard ones passing by
fat wrinkles under the chin
they never were, but will be

the haggard ones will be
without having existed, on paper
leaden faces shining silverly
they don't know about existence

from the bazaars of being, they
steal the fruit of red dreams
sometimes they come to us,
walking around in cities, strayed

multiple faces, unrecognizable
a teint, hidden under cornmeal
they are hauling the ruins of war
heads hanging down to the ground

Wondaland, a.k.a. The Magic Metropolis
June 13th, 2021

Esteemed Readers and Writers, Gangstapoets and Hangarounds,

Gangstapoetry proudly declares that CREATION 96 is now the second unit of our Global Movement.

We are welcoming our new members. You are now a part of us. Much Love.

Tizzop


GANGSTAPOETS


**** 13.8  *  MIKEY DA STREETWISE  *  EAZY LEGS *  ADORABLE GREGGIE  *  MONICA MATADORA  *  SLY BOOTYGIRL  *  COLLAPSIN CHAOT  *  THE LADY REVENANT  *  BEEN  *  WOOZY WIZARD  *  TELLY  *  CRATERSKATER  *  CHEYENNE IS STARVIN  *  CASPER THE PSYCHOTIC GHOST 


GANGSTAPOETS


DESERT SAMURAI  *  PRESTON  *  ALBOW  *  SNOWBLADE  MUTANT  *  SAMBA  * 
UNKLE OF DOOM  *  PLAY  *  ANTWONE  * 
BOBBY BUTCHAH  *  TINA  *  JOEY  *  DREAM SEEKER  *  TRANCE DISCIPLE  *
*  MOTH  *  DR. ****  *  KOBA COBRATONGUE 


GANGSTAPOETS


SVETLANA  *  GUNJAHTOOL  *  LOUIS ORTGIES  *  MISHU BRAVE BEAR  *  GÖKHAN TATCHOUOP  *  DESOCIALIZED KID  *  WIND DIGGER  *  SABIÇ  * JUAN  * DEAL  *  LUCY TARANTULA  *  TEXAS HOLD ME  *  SOUTHSIDE DRILL ASSASIN  *  SHAWN  *  JAMMED JAY 



GANGSTAPOETS


THCO  *  TIMMY ROTTEN  *  PLATIN ZIPPO  *  WORLDWIDE WAGGING  *  ZOMBIE NEIGHBOR  *  BUTCH  *  KWAME'S LOST SON  *  TRANCE24/7  * JIMMY  *  JOSE, FELIPE & CATHERINE  * LAST OPTION PHIL  *  KIAN  *  MAX NEWMAN  *  MAGIC GOON

mighty children of wondaland:

blessed be metropolis, blessed be you
we are witnessing a day of change
sunrays shine on addicts and pushers
dawn dissolves into dust and trance

the streets are flooded by disciples
in packs, they are chasing rainbows
moon man, thco, fabienne male dog
ghosts of the past glow in their eyes

none of 'em will you find, they find you
mob of shadow faces, untraceable
the scent of humans betrays them
round corners, pink hoes, fat **** frank

just call da man who knows his uncle
relate to tizz, all best to his family
but don't watch him carefully, kin
isn't always what ya expect, tho'

i burned holes in my skin to taste god
meanwhile, rotten kids killed rich kids
the income gap matters, my old friend
may the esteemed reader decide at night

24/7 trance and insomnia, you feel me?
regardless of your background & race
regardless of your ****** identity & age
the movement is booming and global

glimpse of repressed desires, in rain
as i met dominique northstar on a platform
life trains passing by in slow motion
and we are smiling at each other

end of existence's hectic, silver heaven
leaves flying around her head, swooshing
two hours later, her sounds, my *******
and we talk endlessly, films, food, songs

the following weeks are waves in our souls
we don't sleep with each other, but laugh
in times of hunger are we gathering greed
a massage here, a soft embrace there

northstar starts to glow more often
one day, she wears a darkyellow blouse
telling me about it, throwing tender codes
and i catch them, and we get closer

sleeping with you is wordless, dominique
last night i dreamt, you would write to me...

wondaland verses, 3 am, sliding thru fog
don't judge me, us, dem goons, eazy legs
mikey, coba cobrahead, **** 13.8, trisha
young are our martyrs, hyped my moves

burning shoes, raging thoughts, mad luv
veni, vidi, vici, viciously beatin em down
brothas and sistas, thank you all for coming
dusk creates nights of lambos and revenge

hihaho, the drumset drowns in dark water
monica matadora, deal, trance disciple
as glossywhite as onyxblack are the rocks
and gems in the voltgreen bottega bag

wondaland verses from the gp heritage
roots and boost of gangsta poetry, yeeeah

stuck between pride and ****** mood
lurid lights, laughter, ladies, lively lips
we are 96 souls away from the magic
and we nevah wake up or get up, nope

i swear on my momma's grave and pray
may she rest in peace with good ghosts
wise man told me to wear a black suit
me, tho', forgot if i did so, can't help it

was i trippin from dawn to dusk again
probably but ya gotta triple that time
and consider the weirdness of my speech
dem words stumble other words upon

meanwhile me and milly made luv to luv
luv laid back like rasta villages, jah songs
she's spreading her legs and licking
13.8, worship the fountain, that's basic

gangsta poetess & burglar, membah 108
while meetin milly, i imagine her naked
64 minutes later, lolling on silver satin
the lips such big perfect matches

by the end of the day we float over glaciers
our months vanish within a few days
hihaho, tickling trip, totally toony, truly
milly and tizzy equals eccentric & woozy

steering dreams, mysterious mixtures
golden goblets, served on light tables
we falling into the floor, a voltgreen maze
wondaland's gardens, we reach 'em

frozen loops of yummy yearning, yeeeah
all dem blankets and pillows, hundreds
in a bed spacious like a football field
a quarter of milly's back is my tattoo

parking lot at 4:16 am, 24 k bracelet
gotta look at it under the light of the sun
reminds one of eazy legs & adorable greg
we come, observe, read, blast and leave

stuck with mental blankness, in limbo
block party of creation 96, 2056 souls
oh my, sweaty forehead, i'm so cold
burning bloodshed, beasting bloodbath

marriage of mystery and skyline tales
sparkling are the eyes of yayo vampires
8 days awake, bangin in sky dunes
schmock, dinosaur, sole talker

sugar hill, broken glass on the ground
splinters of daily folks, corners and tails
keys to the underworld, raise or fall
banging sounds in a goon's cough

fences, sirens, polish bus stop, rush hour
lol and jacob move **** crakov-frankfurt
three shops across, dem nador traders
rif mountains, morocco, global tons

meetings in melilla, jet sky armies
measuring waves in zipped packs
smuggling route barcelona, merchers
hashtag hyena minds, transformations

the key to peace is chained against rocks
blank buildings occupied by crack units
the day of dead idols, dusk till dusk
insomnia becomes a habit, well put

glaciers, paste, the andes: toxic faces
silver layer on the skin of the chosen few
96 hours are over, fifty for hundred racks
counting on the law of silence, omertà

graffiti, street art, scratchings and markers
freeze the second of youth, look back
eagerly talking are those who rule corners
doves witness gospel choirs and thorns

underworld's keys buried in sand
beach elevators take you into the past
they only go downwards, among stones
murals of sicilian ancestors on the walls

look, the last trains are leaving for good
you will never see this light again
saw, final destination, impaled yuppy
arms, intestines, flesh and bones, now

the underworld is key to bearded ones
no understanding of fear, officer
razor blades will open your mouth
bloodred letters from the ancestors