Shadowboxing with a dead man as a massacre stills  

Fingerdancing to smoke & mirror the masses

Whistling frantic in the gathering dark to steady the ranks

Faith trumps facts

A strong man acts

Greasepaint thick

Growing cracks

A flailing will can kick up sparks

Keep squeezing shills

Catch easy marks

Throw enough show & something will stick

That's shitbusiness!

Step up to the mic and strike first with a smile of one liners, with observations or tales that beguile them.
For a smile will disable them while your lines slide in behind them, almost whispering, selecting the sharp-soft phrases that will best penetrate those guarded places. Looking with innocence into their faces, turning minds stage by stages, persuading with insights, with stories of real life, with familiar tales of familiar strife. Then when you follow through and strike with the punch line they have no defence and have no time to decline the good sense found in this food for thought, laughing to a sudden realised stop, looking again at their lives, with a furtive smile of dawning delight at the shed light on shared lives found in your soft amplified lines.
- Do it right when you step up to the mic and you just might change lives.

As the wandering eye did catch.
A glimpse of girl that she might fetch.

Charmed and wiled her way now,
And at her beauty willingly bowed.

Tempt her o'er a bottle of wine,
To see a flicker of wilder eye.

Reflected back across candlelight,
Then saw a shining gaze that night.

So now as I look back at you,
With sultry shaded eyes of dew.

Release yourself for our delight;
We could just forget this night.

Or remember wetly all the time,
Of caress and pleasure following ryhme.

VERSE 1
Portrayed as the girl next door, she'll rip your heart out and manipulate the way your mind works.
Just forget how she looks, it's an illusion...
She's as ruthless as the best of them.

PRE-CHORUS
You'll always love her in the end X2

CHORUS
Darkness falls before you realise all your skeletons have come alive.
These are the thoughts that haunt you, just another mistake you've made on your own.

VERSE 2
It doesn't matter the advice you hear, she's already ****** you in.
You're a victim to her persuasive skills.
It's an art-form of suggestion.

PRE-CHORUS
CHORUS
BRIDGE
CHORUS X2

Goosebumps rise upon my thin exhausted arms.
The wind , harsh against the little warmth radiating from inside.
It's hard to see through the murky fog of the world.
A cold , dark  world.
There's no rhyme nor reason to continue to exist.
It wanted me out and now it has nearly succeeded.
The only thing keeping me here is the sound inside my head.
The persuasion of reason.

Hungered for a taste
  of your elixir's essence,
drunken inhalations
   of your poetry
a splendiferous whirl
 of time & space 'tween
darkly scented moons
    and sun's adoration,
blithe starry nights
amidst meditative new
dawn's effervesce,
 spirited of the heart,
gleaned in the soul,
yearnings of another
  chapter's paradise
universal experiences
etched of hourglass sand,
 written upon endlessly
    chimerical verses
wildflower gardens drenched
    of dandelion's plum wine
swooning under a
hypnotic scripted spell,
intoxicating power
of unchained symphonies
dancing amongst skies'
released euphoria
 resonating in a song's
   reprised melodies,
breathlessness of delirium's
  celestial pauses
  in vaporous breezes'
  unfurling undulation,
captivated by rhythmic
  destiny reverberating in
     *****' pleasurable calling
  quenched of sacred
     offering's quell
transcending earthly
   persuasions' rhyme,
let me lick the nectar from
   your  poesy's  insatiable  lips,
sweet mercy's healing
   captured in rapturous
   surrender's reawakening ~

Je veux que vous tous,

tu me manques*



Ce que vous manquez de moi?