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Nat Lipstadt Nov 2019
~for Wyett Yocum~

nowadays, we slice and dice ourselves
by gender, race, and any thin wafer division
by which the human persona can be identified,
as if we were tattooing our ****** identity
on the wrist of your societal recognition scales

all in order to say,  Hey!

this is who I am,
this! is why
I am special unique, very very
deserving of your accoladed admiration

so the newly acquired phrase,
there is no brag in that boy
leaps and bounds, coming to rest on my wide eyes white,
now part of my lexicon, there, where my vocabulary stored,
for its very contradictory contrariness
demands the realized anti-hero,
the natural quietude of
the aw shucks, that we used to value, people,
above all

nearing the end of my days, my vast
knowledge of words and people grows smaller
by leaps and bounds, for finer refinement and focus,
vastly diminishes and distinguishes but a handful
of verbal grains, seeds, a few is all that’s needed,
kernels, that when deep planted, well watered,
a gift nurtured by nature’s simplest greater gifts
regifted us human exmplars

there is kind.
there is honor.
there is selflessness, character, service
and a very, very few more.

some new, just today, recently obtained,
the very title of this late night reflection!

a fine spun summary depiction of modesty,
a trait so rare, it’s existence now under appreciated,
and so very hot-not, au courant, fashionable, woks or lit,
hardly deemed valuable in the me-matters age

so crumple up this minor essay, store and stick it
among your mementos, and other keepsakes,
let it not be seen, avoid confusing the young man of whom
it was spoken and herein recorded, but this prize! this poem!
this award without proclamation or gold statuette or degree,
will, a secret well kept, by those who raised him, recognizing,
that their own mirrored imaged is quietly well reflected,
his inherited invaluable, distinguished modesty,
product of his pedigree

Nov. 10, 2029
Darryl M May 2019
I remember when you walked in the room,
With your white lotus dress.
A princess to be immortalized.
Words can’t describe you.
Thoughts can’t define you.
Dreams dry out in the furnace of your beauty.

A glance at you makes me a pervert.
You got all my attention to divert.
I ain’t gonna touch.
But when I feel an ‘ouch’.
I’m totally gonna look.
Coz you got that special hook.

Have you ever been kissed on the neck before?
Then allow me to be the first.
You’re a vine to dine.
Let me taste the showers of your youth.

You slithered your hand into my pants,
Felt the blessers-joint pulsing with desire.
You got into work,
and turned me into a dork.
As you quickly got me out of my jorks.

I say, stop, but then caress you closer.
“Well if you must,” I add.
We kiss for one more closure.
Just to render all past beloveths dead.
Now we’re done, and you’re sitting on my lap.
Stamina long gone, but won’t you take me through another lap.

We walk by, they just clap.
They know, you da ****.
Probably the first ****** Script I ever wrote.
A M Ryder Aug 2018
We wanted to be bulletproof
MC's with M-16's and enough money to buy our freedom from the very same blocks we bragged about in our verses
We weren't hypocrites, we were just literate in the language of loss
We weren't rich, but we knew some people were and that they seemed to laugh a lot more often.
I don't laugh all that often anymore..
I'm not sure when we forgot that we were giants
what thief
has come to me
that his
be loose
who are you to steal much
that it may. be as more
what have we given
my looks to me
wagons burn
neck snap
man death assumptions

hang with me here

we read how
they mock

Oculi Nov 2017
It's the return of the gangsta, thanks ta
Them bustas that thinkin' they real trouble
Them ******* that tellin' me I'm but a bubble
I'm the real **** ******* don't point at me
I'm everything you and your buddies wanted to be
It's the return of the real G, ***** *****
I could straight up ****** you without the beat
I'm nothing like any of you think, I'm the danger
All you be seeing in my is just some ******* stranger
Lemme acquaint you with the las thing you'll see before you fall
******* thinking they're cool

They be thinking I'm a ******* busta
All they be seeing is I ain't a hustla
I ain't nothing but doom to you, lil *****
I ain't the one who be seeing the dirt in the ditch

I ain't Brown or André, I ain't no name in this *****
But it's still the return of the gangsta
Out here to kick yo *** back to when you had a masta'

It ain't happenin' again, ain't nothan'
No bebop ****, no big hood thangs
Just realize you outta line
Cause you ain't got a ******' dime
Bite my dolla', *****
A spiritual successor to two songs:
Outkast - The Return of the "G"
Danny Brown ft. Freddie Gibbs - The Return of Danny Brown
So yeah, it's pretty much rap.
she swishes her gossiping*
like the reddest red

our confidences cannot be entrusted
to her
she has a propensity to broadcast
them clarion

she'll cajole you with
her amiable
then by not checking the tongue
all will

impart no details
keep them safe unto
as the idle talker
respects not even
Dr Zik Jul 2017
Where no one can disdain
Where no one feel be scorned
Where no one try to brag
Where no one feel helpless
Where no one try to fight
Where no one try to get rid of
Where no need of a barren land
Where no need of desert insight
Where no need of any shyness
Where we would ready to hear the truth
And take it as a tweet of bird
Where flowers’ beauty and fragrance
Can lessen pangs and sorrows of
This cruel cunning ugly world
And we would start to dance in breeze
With the jocund company of You
When a tiny, an innocent
Shining and transparent dew drop
That cannot miss a chance in hurry
To make a snap impatiently
Be a witness!
Bless us O’ Lord!
Bless us a chance
O’ my Lord!
Dr ZIK's Poetry
Oh yeah, the other day I went
to that 5-star hotel
and got a breakfast by
Bobby Flay.
Never heard of him, but the food was
pretty good.
Afterwards I went to the gym and lifted some
100lb weights.
Oh and yesterday I got a
100% on my quantum physics test.
All in all, my week was
Why do people even do this? They want to make it look like they are trying to be modest when in actuality they're bragging in the worst possible way! Couldn't think of any other chefs sorry.

— The End —