Innocent tornado of joy,
adorable wind of air,
I'm blown away
by your presence.

Your energy
simply put
raw exuberance,
overwhelms me
in to submission.

Caught in your gust
lost in your playful spin,
I never had a chance.

Your just too cute!! :)

Nic wack
patty  fat
Give a dog a bone.
Forget that
Six flat
I'm getting in the zone
Coming off the dome
To elevate my holmes
I'm flipping different styles
an breaken colla' bones
Freestlying for a while
Then killing microphones
reading palms then writing poems
Stay preying for my foes
The more they hate me,
the more I these brughs
these haters forgotten woes
Makes them hate me even moes
they thought my star dumb
But I shine bright
jaws dropping through the floors
And breaking done doors
Playing my cards like a maverick
I'm wild slick like an Olympic
pushing sic whips, taking picks
with my dogs
Like l'm boy filthy rich
went from a chip on my shoulder
To flipping chips at the Ritz
eating liver and fish with
Chip and dip with one of the Celtics
who's selling tic-kets to see the old
Knicks turning tricks  
over at 5th
off of 6th
by Saint and Patrick's
Instead
I'm tipping bartenders
When I flip it with the tip
**** like I'm a **** kid
I blow their mind when I say something
wicked like
"Time is money"
but give me a look
with no more specifics
Then I take another sip
then walk off all prolific
then look in the air
My hands flair like I ....
see something futuristic
then look at you like...
I could you miss it.
I know what you are thinking
and I am so pist...
This is bullclip
I meant
full clip
I won't bite my tongue
but just bite my lip thinking of inking
Something linking in link inn
with link king linked in link with ink linking king with lincoln
linking the link king
With lincoln against a kingpin
and that kingpin was me,
u pinned him got the quick won
Then took a knee
As he hand it down to me.
with me. All linked into the same thing

"Don't Plan for your future,
and you could end up like this."
Then take another sip and then I dip
All ripped off some old English breathe that smelt like he been punched in the mouth by a fist full of ****, then bit, then swallowed the ****. Then didn't brush since 1986, he could a deadly virus if it took a swift. Got on my motor bike, and slide off like a brit, a villian, and I'm swift. My lines tailored quick, step out of line, the bottom line, is flat line then a ditch. Get a bottom *****, and breed her with my pit, then cruise and take a pic, ***** clues we label it, now enough with the funny **** now let's spit something sick

Your brows furrow as you play,
trying to cage what’s written on the page:
a melody you could hold between your fingers
if only they would stop stumbling and do as they’re told,
which they do, because as the minutes tick on,
I hear the notes slowly become a song.

Looking in your eyes, you got that attitude.
Giving me a hard time, and I like it too.
I know you got a man; but how he treating you?
See it in your eyes; the Love ain’t true....
He sexing you good; but look does he value you?
Writing poems; to get a smile from you?
Can he keep his rhythm in line; the way I do.
Instead of* just* ******* you right; he cherish you?
Eating; sushi on ice with a Paris view?
Diamonds; girls best friends; relate the two?
Grab the Sun with his bare hands,
Just for you. If not, then why you-
calling him your man,
if he don’t even know what to do for *you.

ArkiBuilding #L2

A glimpse to the arena,
Eyes on that screen
They laugh…
Without reflection,
Reality faded out.

A bang to the innermost,
Fringe between…
An invisible being,
Taking off…
Devoid of wings,
With eyes wide open.

They left a mark,
A panorama of silence…

SILENCE…

A startling ending.

What the humankind portrays,
Seems right..
Seems perfect…
But… **a smoke of inanity.

With gestures increasingly erratic with every strike
And punts as constant as ink gliding across ivory
Our vigilant artisan gathers his wisdom on combat's eve.

The sick passion we have
Instead of practicing, we envy
We look at the arrogant one
Who brings us down
We scoff at his righteousness
We would love to call him out
Not to teach him his mistakes
But only to bring him down
His perfection: too blind in envy are we
To see his arrogance is that of his weakness
There could be fellowship in both of you
Yet instead we remain, stirring the tensioned brew

You're sitting across a table, in the next room- and it's the month of July.
                                                                                 And as the beads of sweat chip off your forehead
                                                                                                              like a shank of butcher's meat,
                                                                                                                        your dorcel fin peaks                                                                                                         through the sand where my toes peak                                                                       through. The picnic table where I write letters; post cards.
                                                                                                   I take photos, make reservations, and
                                                                                       even after I'm canceled on for walking around
                                                              downtown in my bright neon-pink underwear, I still roll to the
              left side of the bed sit up and drop the cigarette I fell asleep on. You're just sitting, first entry:                                                                                                                                                 Stardom.

                                                                                                I don't have room for you in the corners.

                                                                                                The corners of this room, padded walls,
                                                                                           shifty vaseline sway- the white cotton stick
                                               of a sucker pointing out of your mouth, its red numero forty dye shines
                                                                                                                in the specks of light flicking
                                                                                                  out of the horizon like a carousel ride
                                                                                                                              around and around.

                                                                                        I'm getting a bit dizzy, and even less honest.

                                                                                                                 If you want to see me spring,
                                   like the silly string on my birthday, yellow silly-putty; molding the monster face,
                                                                                                     I observe you through a kaleidoscope                                                                                                                   of dexedrine and morphine.
                                                                                              Your catastrophe with Xanax, passed out
                                                            in alien-green *******, at that party in the abandoned firehouse
                                                                            on News St., how you could lay trust on me after that

                                                                                                (a daydream with sawing you called me)

                                                                                             sixteen-year-old mishap of an afternoon.
                                                                                            &