Mar 2014
Our Fists are made Bronze.
But our Pride is paved in Gold.
We don’t Care if we are told that we can’t.
“That’s your business, I already know my goal”
Whether I have to break someone’s nose to put food on the table.
I WILL DO IT.
If there is a problem with my family.
I WILL PULL THROUGH IT.
Work until the sun rises and deal with a city that despises the weak.
WE WILL DO IT.
Eating half cooked steak on a 2 minute break on a job that leaves your life at stake more often than the moment you awake when your soul is vulnerable for the devil to take but your thankfulness of living keeps you at bay from his grip and through his fingers you slip…..for today.
But what I can’t seem to realize is why we believe lies as to improving our lives by giving the men who advertise the happy lives of rich families. But these men know they are talking to ****** salaried men. They can barely afford to buy their kids a memento to remember them
Our women, our goddesses, our blessed doorway to life.
How they distribute themselves to us men with such truth and such life and delusions of becoming ones wife when all us men want is for you to clean our pipes as we clean yours but after all that’s done things result to boredom.
To separate ways we go walking slow and in thought contemplating the warring conscience and what weapons may be used so that it may be fought.
But a solution isn’t found, then we stare and look around for a lover who is down to comfort US; WE; ALL.
With a stupid *** rebound that’s as commonly found as penny on the ground.
For a moment the secure feeling of feeling found when you were lost makes you feel important as if you have a cost.
We know not of what we’re worth.
I know not of what I am worth.
All I know is that I speak and as long as I keep this ritual of keeping my words rhythmical I will not worry about those who are rather cynical. My thinking is always critical and expanding in different ways as to how I may make money for talking each day.
I wish can explain why we strain and endure so much.
All I do is complain and refrain from reaching out for whatever fell from my clutch.
Life is simply becoming a very big game of double-dutch.
You can’t rest your feet for a second.
Urban life is typical and stereotypical because our success rate is minimal. We are looked upon as animals without no brain and we are considered deranged for our ways of escape, of being, who we are seeing, who we are beating, fighting, biting, kissing, hugging, *******, touching, laughing, snapping, applause.
But our Pride is paved in Gold.
We don’t Care if we are told that we can’t.
“That’s your business, I already know my goal”
Whether I have to break someone’s nose to put food on the table.
I WILL DO IT.
If there is a problem with my family.
I WILL PULL THROUGH IT.
Work until the sun rises and deal with a city that despises the weak.
WE WILL DO IT.
Eating half cooked steak on a 2 minute break on a job that leaves your life at stake more often than the moment you awake when your soul is vulnerable for the devil to take but your thankfulness of living keeps you at bay from his grip and through his fingers you slip…..for today.
But what I can’t seem to realize is why we believe lies as to improving our lives by giving the men who advertise the happy lives of rich families. But these men know they are talking to ****** salaried men. They can barely afford to buy their kids a memento to remember them
Our women, our goddesses, our blessed doorway to life.
How they distribute themselves to us men with such truth and such life and delusions of becoming ones wife when all us men want is for you to clean our pipes as we clean yours but after all that’s done things result to boredom.
To separate ways we go walking slow and in thought contemplating the warring conscience and what weapons may be used so that it may be fought.
But a solution isn’t found, then we stare and look around for a lover who is down to comfort US; WE; ALL.
With a stupid *** rebound that’s as commonly found as penny on the ground.
For a moment the secure feeling of feeling found when you were lost makes you feel important as if you have a cost.
We know not of what we’re worth.
I know not of what I am worth.
All I know is that I speak and as long as I keep this ritual of keeping my words rhythmical I will not worry about those who are rather cynical. My thinking is always critical and expanding in different ways as to how I may make money for talking each day.
I wish can explain why we strain and endure so much.
All I do is complain and refrain from reaching out for whatever fell from my clutch.
Life is simply becoming a very big game of double-dutch.
You can’t rest your feet for a second.
Urban life is typical and stereotypical because our success rate is minimal. We are looked upon as animals without no brain and we are considered deranged for our ways of escape, of being, who we are seeing, who we are beating, fighting, biting, kissing, hugging, *******, touching, laughing, snapping, applause.
This was a slam peice.
