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Why do I search for a beat when I make my own
Trying to learn to rap but I use my phone
At least I rap sober rather than ******
I generate creations in my head
I chase patience until I am dead
I rush things and strive for success
I've done things right I guess, yes
I have I good I stood up took claim of what I have aimed
I set goals and said I am great, and now I am, ****
Take that in you all the same
I have different trap, I rap with skill
You rap with bills
Live in the hills, I live in the flats
And I can rap
Like sprinkling dust on the paper,
Moulding itself into mud;
Sound the words of the pauper,
Forming his tears into flood.

His need is not a bigger pocket,
Or a fam of a good blood;
His thirst made him a bitter poet,
Being lost in the flood.

Flood of a baby's first cry to the world,
Seeing everything newly indifferent;
He wishes for a straight world unwhirled,
Wishing not being so different.

Dirting the paper with stolen words,
From sloppy worlds of others;
The pauper gets deeper in his thirst,
And goner in others'.

Sodden paper-pieces in the mud,
Like flood-brought thrashes;
But they didn't came with the flood,
Just from a former poet's ashes.
Pedro Vialle Sep 23
for your life
not knowing what way
danger comes from
red and blue lights
shots fired
stray bullets
easy targets
never the bad guy
but always the black no one
tell me, when?
when this will stop?
when all this spilled blood
will finally be enough?
**** all those uniformed *******, those hateful pigs! They're killing CHILDREN over here...
Ken Pepiton Sep 16
This began with an old man telling of diving from a bridge,
We can see, he said, if hitting bottom is possible,
a smart kid makes adjustments.
Still waters run deep,
you know you can do this if we tri, you and I
insider outsider
other sider

consider the ant a tool,
learn to use them, they are already programmable.

try flies. what wish can you grant to fly?
what pheromone propels flies
to seek fly-level haps
meaningful and

Make it real. Satisfied me says war is senseless,
it feels no pain.

There's no referee, so it ain't a life problem.

The entire life meme was upgraded,
when Netscape went public, in August '95.
Life's daysman had made the call, however long ago,
the Romans 8 manifestation gestation
thing was damming the info
but we fixt it,
at the heart of the matter of fact,
Bubbles were introduced to make booming
let up on trying to increase,
to effect the more abundant phase,

memes got real and made a global brain that
remembers ever things,
sorted by Planck-sec,
if you observe
in a properly augmented way,
the inner edge of the bubble of being.

The changes are the most precise captures
of a series of mortal moments on
earth, ever.
Perfect transparency.
This is that gaseous substance, spirit, geist, breath
yes, hey
listen, here we hear haps clappin' one handed,

singin' I'm so glad, to a ****** Baker beat.

We should dance to this.
Heavenly oaks trailer park, Guatay California. This is like heaven, t'some,
i guess, I'm such a one. it's fun to know this is as low as i ever dived and survived. Life is good for living things.
clever Sep 9
i put out the lights, but somehow i forgot to close the blinds
so now i've got to see your face when it turns morning time
i made a mistake.
Blessed from birth,
knowing the grit of dirt
between my teeth,
Living the dream
where money means
Is it a paper cup, today?
Is it a ****** there
in the dirt with ***** in it?
My mom says if I could save,
I could make it work, easily -
but she's using my name
to evade her debts,
and when I finally
get gone, to get electricity,
I have to implicate
her as a criminal.
Aaron Elswick Aug 28
Formed in a field of fire, I cry,

serving thorns of beleaguered triumph, I crawl

to a shorn little wreath of wiring, I stall

to enthrall all the force behind me, I crawl.

Crawl with a ghost's sobriety, in a  thought
I have wrought
what a world denied me, in a joke,
but its not,
it's assuming a piety
in deliverance from fouler hits
isn't a blinder for your civil bliss.

Wake the **** up.

Watch the flare, trace the wick.

Dodge the rain drops, cop's air and spit.

Hopped a train of thought for a ditch

Found a chain of White grapes and whips.

You intervene with glitter glue at the seams,
assume to placate flames below the root of your jeans,
assemble suitable frames amid a brutal disease,
accrue the nourishing famine, staying true to your leaves,
and seeing nothing.


capitulate to the critical conditioners , an oppressor
hypernormal in biblical proportions for your pleasure
find the border for brick mortar
pull lever, level threat, fine order,
don't. cross. this. line.
Never stop to observe the servile nature of your stature
levy thoughtless concern to herd the ******* in your factor
paper shredder for flame fodder, **** your water
crawling out with a name, and an aim to discolor your collar

I have no eyes to see son or daughter,
grass in the field, lacks appeal,
devoured countless when I was smaller

Eyes on the whole deal, now
coal fields, cold meals, thicc hoes, sick cows,
this thirst, it grows, it thrives, right now
it knows, it chose,
these throes are how these days will close when you aren't loud.

Eat the rich
Eat the poor
Eat the earth
Wake the **** up.
(It's pretty long so... Sorry. Also sorry for the double negatives and cursing, in that order.)

The perspective is of a problem, a deep seeded growing fire of a problem. People may acknowledge or even discuss it, but it will be in tame, civil, language. That urge to take the edge off of a clear problem, because either it benefits us to be inactive or silent, or because social conditioning has essentially taught us to keep talk small and inconsequential. That inactive cowardice of principle (which I too am guilty of) is what allows that problem to spread and cause others and so on. Problems don't feel or care whether you're trying to solve them or not. They will eat your world away without a feeling. Just talking about them earnestly won't solve them obviously, but it is a pretty critical first step. The last part is basically when all of them pile up and consume everything.
Peter B Aug 21
One day they will join
their brothers-in-dust
and live together in box rooms
under the ground,
where no tables, no chairs,
no carpets, no sofas,
just simple beds.
all this time, i've yet to come to terms with certain words
for instance, design, and all of its nuance
how do i design in true
when i am a shard of
azure experience in the
endlessness of midnight blue?

all this time, i've yet to call my good form to return
for instance, my designs, and all the nuances --
the water drains, shallow now,
from my composition,
as if i'm the desert, when once,
i was my own oasis.

reflection is a given. still,
how can i reflect this ill
in good faith, when the
poisonous sick saw my
leg up ascend into ruins?
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