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Cunning Linguist  Nov 2013
Schwag
Cunning Linguist Nov 2013
Loaded down with swag, you could say I got some baggage
Now tag me in your post - host server overload with traffic
Havoc, I smashed it I'm smokin on that hash **** its magic I'm laughin,
***** where the **** my brain go?
Oh I know **** I got so braindead before I wrote this
I'm monumental, moving boulders
Deport this *****, jumpin borders
Spit my lyrics so hot just like you was sippin Folger's
Burn your tongue? I burned my face,
You in a race?
Huh, ***** don't even try to run

Your nightmares are my fantasy
I make your dreams rip at the seams
Best believe it I'm the reason
You be losing sleep
Unfeasibly
Freddy who? Man **** that dude
This ain't no ****** "Elm Street"
11-12 Better check yourself
**** with me I killed it
You're in my world now *****

And grab your crucifix
Ha! AND PRAY TO GOD *****

Oh ****, break in the beat
I can't be defeated so don't leave your seat
So many drugs my heart feels complete
Lungs replete with the cloud of a thousand burning trees
Smokeapalooza, my brains on vacation
maybe it's a factor, all the inhalation
Snoozing you loser?
Got it going on,
Got more bombs than a marathon in Boston
AND IF YOU THINK THAT **** WASN'T A FALSE FLAG GO BACK TO SLEEP

I'm a self confessed bongaholic by definition
Cro-Magnon, I'm stone-age in terms of cognition
though hopefully I can get some ignition, generate some sparks
My colorful rhymes stand in stark contrast
against this black and white palette
all these so called artists paint with
Oh and blunts are great, ******* Wiz Khalifa
pearl another one and I'm feelin golden
withholding nothin, so I'm puffin til I'm huffin

straight baked like space muffins
something you can't relate or replicate,
so don't defame, or deface my status as
realest ***** in the rap game
no malarkey;
you have a better chance swimming with sharks b

breaking bad
take a line of that Walter White to my head
til my brains are frying like eggs at breakfast
hear just a little sizzling
**** bro I'ma wake up dead

David Banner he don't know swag
Lil' B holla that he own swag
Overflowin with all these newfags
I /b/ like :bitchplease: I ******* made swag

I'm beautiful man super cool
and all all the ******* love me
most popular boy in school
I have everything I want
it seems -
in my dreams,
******* **** me
My ADD is so infuriating
which is at least partially
why my primary hobbies
are screaming rapping and smoking ****
Nick Moser Jan 2016
I HAVE FINALLY RE-EDITED AND FINISHED MY FIRST BOOK, FROM CRO MAGNON TO PRO AVERAGE MAN: AN ASSORMENT OF POEMS!!!!!

Well, I have officially made my first book of poetry. The book is entitled From Cro Magnon to Pro Average Man: An Assortment of Poems. This was the first time I ever attempted making a book, and finally I have pulled it off!!! I made this book through the website: www.bookemon.com. Just a few minutes ago, I actually published the book on Bookemon for the whole world to buy! So, if you’ve wanted a copy all along, are interested in reading it now, and/or just want to help me keep chasing my dream of becoming a known-poet by paying for the book, YOU CAN!! Here’s what you do:

You go to www.bookemon.com

You enter “From Cro Magnon to Pro Average Man” into the search bar in the upper-right hand part of the screen.

When you hit “Search,” my books should pop up!! MY books! I actually made it.

There are two types of the book. A hardcover and a softcover version. It will say which version is which under the title. The hardcover version sells for $28.72, plus tax. And the softcover version sells for $18.07, plus tax.

If you would be so awesomely-amazing to buy a copy, just hit ADD TO CART, Then scroll down and hit PROCEED TO CHECKOUT. Hit CONTINUE under GUEST CHECKOUT, and enter your information there.

NOW, I KNOW THE BOOK IS KINDA PRICY, BUT BOOKEMON SETS THE PRICES THEMSELVES. MY APOLOGIES.

Or, if you don’t have any money to spend and just want a little preview of the book, you can hit READ beside the book and get a free 20 page preview!!

Again, thank you to everyone who has supported me through this long process of self-publishing my first book of poetry. And thanks in advance to anyone who is willing to buy the book and actually does. THAT WOULD MEAN THE LITERAL WORLD TO ME.
Thank you all again. Now I have all my time devoted to the continuing and making of my second book, Pocket Change for Priceless Memories. It’s coming soon!!

Thanks again everyone!

Nick
Thank you to everyone for your support.
The Wicca Man Jul 2013
I could answer your questions with a simple, off-the-cuff explanation but have ended up writing this essay: the more I thought about what you’d asked, the more the I felt it warranted a fuller explanation so I will try to explain why I call myself a Wiccan and how I come to be following the Wicca Path. And apologies in advance for the length of this!

As well as my love of Literature, I love History with a similar passion. My degree was in English and History and although I specialised in Shakespearian and post-Shakespearian literature and Modern History, I have a long held fascination with Celtic and pre-Celtic history, beliefs and spirituality. It is the mysticism of the Old Religion that seemed to attract me most and I found myself drawn particularly to the Celtic and Welsh mythology and have read extensively about it: Cornwall and Wales (mid Wales in particular) are my two favourite places in the world. I have read a lot about Celtic and pre-Celtic history, beliefs and religion over the years, both fiction and non-fiction.

Although Jewish by birth, I was brought up by my father who was a confirmed atheist so I lost out on any formal religious influence as I was growing up. Perhaps because of his views, I developed a distrust of formal, mainstream religion. That’s not to say I felt I had no spiritual beliefs at all, it’s just they were untapped and unidentified; I felt I was reaching out for something but it never took on any tangible form, rather like in a dream when you cannot see clearly the faces or forms of the inhabitants of your dreams.

By the time I got into my forties, I realised there was something seriously lacking in the spiritual side of my life. These beliefs were compounded by three events:

    * reading James Lovelock's Gaia theory [which inspired me to write one of my favourite stories, Gaia's Last, published here];
    * my discovery of Jean Auel's Earth's Children series of books , Clan of the Cave Bear, etc. which go into extraordinary detail of Cro-Magnon peoples' belief in nature spirits, worship of The Mother and Shamanism;
    * a sudden change in my circumstances that forced me to re-evaluate every aspect of my life and my existence.

It was at this time I began to research the Old Religion: paganism, nature-worship, whatever you want to call it, and this led me to discover Wicca.

The more I read about it, the more I realised it fitted in with my current state of mind and outlook on life. Maybe there is a sense of escapism inasmuch as the roots of Wicca look backward to a simpler time and as I was having difficulty coping with the complexities of the changed circumstances in my life at the time. Wicca seemed to offer exactly the spiritual needs I was lacking.

That is not to say that Wicca is old-fashioned and out of date. Rather the contrary in fact. Whilst its roots acknowledge the Old Religion, Wicca is relatively modern having been developed by a guy called Gerald Gardner who published a book called Witchcraft Today in the 1940s I believe which re-established in the public eye the old pagan beliefs that have been around since the dawn of man. These beliefs never really disappeared even through the worst of the atrocities perpetrated against followers of the Old Religion [The Burning Times ]. (And just to make an important point about the title of the book and Wicca in general, Witchcraft in the pagan and Wicca context is NOT Black Magic or Satanism as the tabloid press or mainstream religion would have you believe; it could not be further from them. It is simply an acknowledgement of the existence of natural forces that can be used or channelled by those who choose to learn these ancient skills).

I have seen Wicca [and other forms of Paganism] referred to as Green Magic and that seems the perfect definition; it is immensely comforting to work so closely with the natural world and to feel such a part of it.

So for me, Wicca is an ideal spiritual antidote for the impossibly fast-paced, self-serving lifestyles we all seem to be caught up in these days, often through no choice of our own. It is as valid a belief system as any other practised throughout the world and is nothing like the forms of Wicca popularised in the media with TV shows like Charmed and its ilk!

Wicca is it is not something to be taken on lightly - Wicca practices should be treated with the same reverence as those in any other belief system. It requires study, practice and dedication.’

I have to confess to have been lacking in all three since I originally wrote this so have vowed to myself to rectify these shortcomings. I feel excited about my rekindled sense of spirituality and more at peace with myself for making this decision.

Go in Love & Light!
I hope people don't object to my posting this; I am a passionate believer in freedom of speech and of expression. I hope people here are open to these views, which are mine and in no way do I want to foist my views on anyone or indeed, cause offence.
Steele  Feb 2015
Online Dating
Steele Feb 2015
I feel bad for women who date online.
There are good men in this world, I swear.
Not every man who walks the earth wastes his breath and your time,
with cro-magnon scribbles from a mind so bare,
that it comes as a surprise they managed even to write one line,
much less something so cerebral as this:
                              "Yo, prety gurl. Liek yur pic,
                                I so >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
                               Wanna see mah ****?"

So deep, right? What Socratic genius might have penned such lines?
Surely not even Shakespeare or Keats could craft words so divine!
I am so sorry, women who date online.
Truly, I'm sorry, on behalf of mankind
GInger Demons and Universal Nightmares with scarred faces meet the wandering minds gaze

WIth furrowed brow in confusion and a spark of indecency caught by the synaptic spiderweb
Well that was the point any way, I think
but really I don't recall  

Positively Yeatsian in grandiose metaphor
and impenetrable like the intangible soul flux
I chisel cave drawings crude and star spangled
to be found by future archeologists
David Nelson Jul 2013
Mandrake the Magician

now you see him
and now you don't
you will marvel at this magic
while the villains won't

**** he is gone
or changed in an illusion
he can read your mind
and cause constant confusion

the bad guys will lose
crushed by his friend Lothar the King
the strongest man alive
wearing his fez and a golden ring

Mandrake waves his magic wand
to hypnotize the evildoers
while his lady the Princess Narda
applies the skewers

Theron, Hojo and Bradley the chief
keep him protected from harm
with Magnon, Lenore and Karma
at his home Xanadu keeping warm

the villains are many and rotten to the core
Cobra, Brass Monkey and evil Deleter
even the Enchantress Aleena must scurry
Ekardnam his twin in the mirror retreater

so you may try as you might
to remain evil and mean
but Mandrake and his crew
will make you come clean

Gomer LePoet ...
another reflection in time of the old Sunday newspaper comic strip characters - Mandrake
FiguringItOut Apr 2020
I wake up whenever the big bright thing comes back, you call it a sun but I don’t know that fact.  I don’t have a specific schedule, my mud hut is pretty basic but arguably influential.  I don’t start my mornings with green eggs and ham, a freshly caught rabbit shall be breakfast for the fam.  

Most of my day consists of finding food, whatever’s around, no particular mood.  Everything I’ve learned I teach to my child, this uncivilized world can get pretty wild.  After playing with junior I look for more food, I see a fellow ‘magnon “What’s up, my dude?”  We forage for nuts and we forage for berries, leaves will do, but, you know, it varies.  

When the cold goes away we’ll begin to farm, we’ll change the land what’s the harm?  It’s almost dinner what could I make?  There’s a lot of fish down in that lake.  I crouch near the water and aim my harpoon, I sense a tasty supper sometime soon.  Compared to the average human my senses are keen, lucky for you It’s 2016.  

I’m stuck in the food chain, you shouldn’t complain.  I had to outrun a bear today, I ran uphill and shouted, “HOORAY!”  The hill had a spider, it couldn’t be wider.  It bites my ankle, making me rankled.  I’m growing pretty tired, possibly due to the bite I acquired.  

My head gets heavy and my thoughts start to fade, I try to focus on the idea I last made.  I look at the tiny dots in the night, contemplating my place and where I fit right.  My species so young, our world so mysterious, what you have yet to learn should make you delirious.  

I curl up on the floor and close my eyes, the story of my life forever fossilized.  My tribe members bury me but I’m not the first, an underground sea of dead bodies is all that remains in the land we traversed.
I wrote this for my anthropology class back in 2016.
Francie Lynch Nov 2014
Before air became gas
And water waste;
Before light became lasers
And fireworks cannons;
Before cars got wings
And trucks got tracks;
Before rafts were raiding ships
And we breathed underwater;
Before sticks were arrows and spears
And we exalted ourselves;
Before Empires rose and fell
And rose and fell,
A femur crushed Cro magnon's skull.
It's a marvel
How any of us
Are here
At all.
Anarchy & Chaos
At the pyramids of Kæops
Pandemonium spreads
From the base of the cranium
Bad craziness
Piston engine pistol shot
Duality parallelogram agency

Ink spill
Brain spill

For as far as I know
It could all be on the page

For as far as you know
It could be forever lost...

After all
What is the point?


Organic mammal, Cro-Magnon
Formally leapt up
On two feet
Hello, digital nowhere-man.

Keeps me hydrated
In some strange way
Ink oil drum
Devastating spill
Killing every single thing
On the surface.
But you know what they say
About the iceberg...

...

What Hemingway said anyway.

Revenge
Revenge
Revenge

Heinous
Horrific
VENGEANCE

Let­
The
Anchorage
Keel over
And
Die

YOU ARE CARCASSES
decomposing.
The Darkness  Sep 2012
Musing #3
The Darkness Sep 2012
Primative man, pre written word had it easy,
When it came to wooing a woman,
It was as easy as
Lugging a 150 lb log
A few miles,
Fending off a pack of wolves with a stick and a torch,
All so your Cro-Magnon flower could have something to sit on,
To keep off the cold cave floor,
While she weaves baskets, and cures skins.
The simple song,
Or the rabbit pelt and the shiny stone
Have devalued, since the arrival of currency.
But a poem,
Masterfully crafted,
Is a currency all its own.
The value of which is determined,
Not by the poet...
But by the reader.
Clone re Eatery Jan 2015
Thee Artiste Carvó's "Embrace Thee Blight!"*

Thee Artiste's **** once more is freed!
Oh! Wandering fumes do flatulence heed!
Bubble forth! Through waters so impure!

Thee's ***** **** is near!
Bowwow to Thee…
for Thee's smell's a doggy's dream...

Embrace Thee blight!
Gasses new, gasses old…
pass through Thee's dual manifold…

Thee's thee fartiste of forever…
Cro-Magnon man who's mentally spent,
******* on creativity's flames

Oh perfect ****…
exudes from Thee who seeps…
for he is Thee who sets the winds of fartistry free.

Only Thee (the no one) knows!
How true fartistry blows...
like Thee who is the evoker...
of the fartistic flow...

Oh Thee who is Logbrain Crappó is master of the fartiste's blows!


Original ('Embrace The Light') by:      Thee Artist aka Logbrain Crappó
Reworked by:    CrE aka Trollminator
This is the eighth in a series of reconstructions of the drivel of "Thee Artiste" aka Logbrain Crappó which has been previously posted on HP.

True, nothing could possibly make Thee's mindless nonsense less lousy, but at least it can be put into a neater, though still steaming, pile...
I am somewhere between the nadir and the zenith with the wind that blows behind me and who will find me now?
or do I bow before the circumstance,or take a chance,step out from the twilight,two steps out to the dark night,slight chance that there just might be ,somewhere other than this place that seems to fit this soul so tightly.

Down there,
the air became pollute,resolution has dissolved into the swamp like stew we once emerged from, crawl and sprawl our signature as if our nature was the hunting man,
neanderthal.

And Cro-Magnon thought he had the lot,he had not and never did.

The times are dreary,weary men walk home from work,exerting pressures on their tired bones and California was a dream they had in famine fare when food was scarce as were the ferry berths.

Up there,
the air gets clearer,smelling sweeter but palisades are built and pirates sell it by the litre to the thirsty,nothing beats a bit of commerce,it could be worse
I don't know how
I think I'll bow to circumstance.

— The End —