Why does it seem that they all want a Nicki they can minaj
A bad girl who can only fit custom made bras
Not the good girl with the
Small waist and good grades
Small bust
And pushed to a very small sense of trust

Confident,
I don't think she ever was

She just wants to be seen as attractive
I mean why does Nicki get praised for things she wasn't even born with
 and to care that she has a beautiful voice as a gift, as if

Why don't they want the girl who doesn't care if they lift
She's wants your time
Not your money
You can keep your expensive gifts

The way we are now
It's truly a shame

And what about the girl with the body and the brains
She's trying to get an education
Make her own way
She's not trying to collect when you decide to make it rain
So take back your pennies  
Because society's the only one that really needs the change

You say you’re a ‘boss’, does that mean that I’m God, next,
Time you mess with me you’ll see I have a God complex,
Whatever, I mean this rap’s getting complex,
My effects, they perplex, my ego’s getting convex,
I could say that I’m strawberries but I’m much more like lime,
Acrid, like acid, I rhyme, I’ll keep my clothes on that’s fine,
Your sexisms pasts it’s prime, Gatsby’s acts aren’t fine,
Calling me out is a crime since you’re completely irrelevant,
The orders are mine, YOU strip but you best make it elegant,
I can take off my clothes for fun and still be ******* intelligent,
Dodging your blows, fo’ sho, street talk but still make it eloquent,
I might be teeth, ****, toes but lets make one thing clear,
The only head you’ll be getting is off the top of your beer.

Did you know that every time he searched your eyes,
While he pushed deep-
That his emotions passion and lust was equivalent to her?
For every time he traced his finger tip down your spine;
your hands grasped to cover more surface.
Cotton.
Polyester.
Satin,
as you braced for smooth impact.
He only understood the similar love language he shared with her.
With you-
craving of possessive feelings,
Proving your worth to him
asking for time via a clock whom hands couldn’t unwind
Separate.
Disintegrate.
A Minaj a trios-
unbeknownst to you existed,
Co-starring you
For every soft connection within each curve...
Your identity was a reflection of another.
For all the things you projected
Marriage.
House.
Dog.
Children.
His capability of taking you to ecstasy,
Lead you here
Had you any clue?
This little game called life,
Excluded the other woman (you).

I remember when MTV was in its prime,
A new voice to represent the new boom
Babies growing up since the 80s
Louder still through the troubling decades
(Maxed out credit no head room)
After —the punks in nirvana and rapping clergy
It was the only channel on
Youthful rebel yell —honest news
I remember it pretty well
Shaping us generation x y and Personal Jesus
New wave good bye to when
Childhood then without pain of malnourished
Africa or nukes threatening our
Cruel summers
Were we happier then?
So what happens to the music
Rockstars rip van wrinkle
Geriatric hall of fame

(No one lives forever
Reruns with the ****** & mr. Ed
Now that old neighbor’s dead)

Television
Nowadays
Seem more gangster
School shootings terrorists
On the train, kamikaze planes,
It’s all the same ole
Bling kablam oh bits
******* please
Redirecting our attention
To WMD
***
Where the hells are we?

I remember back then
On MTV —Nicki Minaj says
Between the hysterics of police brutality
She said Happiness is living your life
Without struggle,
That stuck with me
Because we all watch the tube
We all search for meaning
Sadly defining what happiness
May look like
Real World and paradoxical reality
TV
Para socially defunct
Clarity
Conditioned to continuously
Stay tuned
Brief message of empty
Hypnosis a pure form of business
Wall Street
Boulevard of broken dreams
I want my

Happy. What do I mean
To be?
Life ***** lately
The human condition
Talking too much
Refusing to see
No more talking heads too much
Bla bla *******
I want my
MTV . Happy .
My generation
We are the world
freedom And yes, Peace.

Man kindly as one
Symphony
And street, a melting ***
Of diversity

I remember the music
The future
I had hope to see
Behind the shades
Circa 80s 90s
(Fossils)
What time is it then?
When will we
Begin
Again

Don’t worry be happy
Run Forest run!

I like cake,
So make it shake,
She like drake,
But with a snake.

Stupid infidel!
Transport your riches
To the lands of the believers.
For petroleum...
To make
The cellophane wrapper
That you will throw away,
When you buy a new mobile,
Even though your old one still works,
And you eat your mcdonalds,
And listen to Nicki Minaj
Infidel *****!
And drive in gas guzzle car,
As you throw the cellophane out window,
And sext your girlfriend.
And crash your car into telephone pole.
Wasting your life!

Who the hell you think are to be demanding me a poem?
Mozart of this art like all these written no-gimmick lyrics are my profession,
Woah, that flow's a shard piercin' you and while you're bleedin', I tell you a fine confession:
This is freedom of expression, this is me out of depression, physics is nowhere near a suggestion for reason behind the never-yet-reached depths of my perception.

Boy you be readin' these ill lines by a writer so sublime, you couldn't fathom or imagine what it's like to be behind the steerin' wheel of the high-paced drive up in my mind,
All these spitting free-verse like that's skilled, yeah sure but they're nowhere close to flowin' poems so potent it could blind,
You can play this like over to cope, you'll need to pause and rewind not one, two, three but at least four times.

This is be that sick spittin' raw ****, you aint heard on the radio,
This be that thick ****, masculinity half gentleman half wild-lion ROAR and make those ladies hoes,
This be the new age slim shady yo, basic rappers way too slow, Mumble rapping on a track and reading **** like BABY PRO,
Na **** that mainstream ****, dawg this be that underground vicious ****,
Boy I've been slitting throat downtown before rap ever was for the ***** *****,
I'm that middle-school rap era, where gangsters could mean black but also Vinnie Paz, shout-out to the most-feared real-deal Gladiator straight from that Sicily pit,
I love Paz for his delivery, flow and anti-gimmicky lyrical potency like no other G that'***** that'***** the scene,
I love Tech for the flow man, Em for the show and love Minaj for puns and Hopsin for being the pioneer or bringing REAL RAP back, he's a cunning industry player but **** HE GOT FLOW. Chris Webby for the raw masculinity-vibe progressive ****, spreading those vibes getting the world to hear his messages,
I love Bugzy and Devs and a little Wiley doesn't hurt,
Grime Scene's a beautiful off-shoot of rap that unlike mumble crap is an old beautiful tree that grew straight from the dirt,
Imma leave it here, let me on this site so your ***** can squirt,
If you're a guy you'll wish you were me but turnin' me down's buryin' what you know be that legit **** that like a Phoenix'll rebirth.

so you say you’re a bad ***** huh
so you prefer to be identified by bad ***** instead of ur real name huh
so you prefer to be valued by money instead of your worth
so you are a bad *****,i ain’t tryna judge you,this ain’t no court

the term “bad *****” can’t end you up as a wife
those instagram pictures wont work,you can’t put a filter on life
you were born original,now you chose to live as a copy
look colourful on the outside but your life is sloppy

the beauty of having beauty is a lot more than being beautiful
the path to life you follow isnt geting any where meaningful
so you say”love *****,i chase paper”*** to you love is just a verb
no cure for your attitude so you take drugs and herbs(****)

anything that has a monetary value is worthless
you used to value more but the tag”bad *****”made you less
you are now defined by pictures of you kissing the air,
exposing you ***** and *** looking for the next prey on facebook or instgram

we follow our dreams but a responsible man wont follow a”bad *****” on twitter
so you can say,you are not any responsible man’s dream
be a bad ***** all your youth and when old a baby sitter?
you raise the stakes for yourself and still cant cross the beam

life is not rosy and even if it is,roses have thorns
those things you do will hunt you,they’ll come with horns
lipsticks,eyelashes,short gowns,expensive wrist watches and purses
money first and then back on the ground,now thats a curse

bad ******* exist amongst us,they are our friends on facebook
"*******"sounds bizzare so she says shez a "bad *****"
the person you are still searches for the person you should be
and i hope youre eyes dont remain shut for you to see

and the younger girs see you and want to be like you
they want to dress all thight and paint their faces like you
no one wants to be like margareth thatcher
they all wanna be nickky minaj

these days there are more bad ******* than wives
and to responsible men it’s like stabs from 100 knives
because a bad ***** will follow men
but a lady will cling to a man

and if you say youre a bad ***** and you need no man
tell that to yourself when you turn 40
a lady isnt defined by how bad or ****** she is but how elegant and classy she is
a bad ***** is pretty but the beauty of a lady is defining

so choose today to be a lady and start the change for our generation!#thepoet
.

duck face to fish gape
snap chatting **** pics
instagraming the ******
narcissism holds sway a nation –
apathetic selfie queens
scroll past Syria
to delve deeply
into the Minaj/ Swift debacle
shackled minds line mall walls
behind shines the toothy grin
of sinister consumer based
individualism..
a schism widens as the generational divide
resembles a large impressive Grand Canyon…
as opposed to the little crack in south Colorado –

My palms sweat when I think of writing you a poem

Writing has been the only way
I could communicate with others
you see,
when it comes to my emotions
my mouth might as well be duct-taped
and in fact the only way I can write this now
is because I can tell myself you'll never see it

I'm confused.

Circumstances half under my control
has resulted in making me
the co-creator of my own kryptonite
see, what happened was partially my fault
and I can't escape the guilt that I made trying to escape it in the first place
see sometimes trying your hardest not to lead someone on
leads them on anyway
and I don't want to do that to you
I don't want to do that to anyone

See this poem doesn't even rhyme.

Not a lot of mine do, though,
And see listening to Drake tends to make me honest
and listening to Nicki Minaj makes me brave
and the combination of that with Angel Haze
is a cocktail that might just get me drunk enough
to lay my head on your shoulder again

I think I'm falling in love with you

But you should know my personality
means that I'm doing it kicking and screaming
searching my damnedest for an escape route
because being vulnerable hurts me every time
even the ones that promised they wouldn't
and I do it to myself, but
I trust you
And honestly that scares me more than it should

I'm not afraid of ******* it up
if that were all it was you'd find me on your doorstep
with my heart in my palms and blood dripping on the concrete
but the thought of how happy you would make me
of how temporary everything is despite our best efforts
the chance that I could lose everything in a single swoop
is more terrifying than wandering alone through dark paths
more terrifying than a deep voice from the empty space beside my ear
more terrifying than a letting down my guard little by little
just to get stabbed in the back