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Tizzop Jun 2020
david was warning me, i didn't listen
instead i kept on running towards you
controlfreak of the netherworld, goon
my life is like a fairy tale, shimmering

invention and glory, similarly
psychopathic word play, baby doll
schizoprenic flow, i have to write
standing ovation for my family

some people have double standards
sweetlove tried to correct me;
hosting a contest about racism
playing grammar police, she was like:

"could you edit this horrible slang?"
no, it's simply the voice of many people
i demasked your entire outfit, kiddo
never ever will you hear back from me

once upon a time, i grew up, now i'm huge
tall, fat, dope, fresh, i'm *******
adjectives for my people to subsist
my life's a motion picture, get it baby

pipi langstrumpf zöpfe, du lächerliche
throw some german into the mix and be real
dinosaurs are chasing me, as long as i'm on it
paranoia guardians, copycat killers, word

livelong sessions, i'm not hiding myself
behind the mask is a good-hearted sicko
a sick, good-hearted person, no doubt
broad-shouldered and i stick my chest out
Today is a good day.
Tizzop Jun 2020
discipline keeps the mind focussed
a sick laughing in the background
rivers of knowledge, psychology

i got your back if you got mine
ancestors stole my land, my brain
existence revolves around dollars

you don't know the voices in my head
they are trying to control me, kid
how can they spot my very location?

i was born in a dump, my father a drunk
my momma died during my birth; my fault?
let me blow up all the golden buildings

my mind be the place where i make plans
people told me that "slang" was "horrible"
nobody has to like that, you feel me?

my skin color is black and white, you know?
don't let them get into my head, **** voices
can i walk the streets freely? who trusts me?

golden opportunities all over the place
don't ask a nameless what his name is
he will never tell you but shoot someone

it's simply not wise, we want justice
when your heart is turning ice cold
hour of the *******, hour of the sucker

the bassline trembles, i'm shivering
females are entering my safe house
armed with prejudices and dishonor

i'm already dead, words chocked me
too much poetry, nowhere to go
**** this end, i will come back!
Today is a weird day.
Tizzop Dec 2019
"hell yeah" changes into...






"heaven yeah"
HEAVEN YEAH!
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
Lifeless
You lay there
Dead and cold

Touches
Light flicks
Dry and rough

Quiet
Not a sound
Scream nor praise

Question
What is wrong
Flaccid and limp

Horror
Hands are filth
Unwanted intruders

Recoil
Shake in guilt
Truth stabbing tears
This poem is inspired by the disgusting slang "dead fish" and my own guilt for the moment I understood the cause.
Brent Kincaid Jul 2018
It ain’t like ahm a teacher ner nuthin.
Ahm jess a regular person, nothin spayshul
Ah ain’t no docterr of rocket science
Ahm jess a working guy, and kinda playful.
Ah half tah admit, ah do get things wrong
And sometahms ah can make a big mess
But ah do have minny, minny good points
And ahm a rilly good person, irregardless.

But things like writin’ readin’ and
Readin’ writin’ and sech lack that stuff
Ah stopped carin’ ‘bout at twelve
‘Cause ah found it more than kinda tuff.
Ah mean, it ain’t lack ah ain’t never
Gunna need to know reedickaluss stuff lie cat.
Ahm jess gunna graduate and then
Ah’ll go to work with Dad and drahve a bobcat.

Ain’t nobuddy needs algebra for that
Er fer workin’ at the factory line ever day either.
And it sher ain’t like ahm a teacher ner nuthin.
Ahm jess a regular person, nothin spayshul
Ah ain’t no docterr of rocket science
Ahm jess a working guy, and kinda playful.
Ah half tah admit, ah do get things wrong
And sometahms ah can make a big mess
But ah do have minny, minny good points
And ahm a rilly good person, irregardless.

But things like writin’ readin’ and
Grammer and other sech borin’ stuff
Ah stopped carin’ ‘bout at twelve
‘Cause ah found it more than kinda tuff.
Ah mean, it ain’t lack ah ain’t never
Gunna need to know reedickaluss stuff lie cat.
Ahm jess gunna graduate and then
Ah’ll go to work with Dad and drahve a bobcat.

Ain’t nobuddy needs algebra for that
Er fer workin’ on a factory line ever day either.
Ah sherr don’t need it to work digging
Er runnin’ sewer lahns er plummin’ pipes neither.
So, folks can jess give up on tryin’
To turn me into some kinda egghead scholar.
After all, it was good enough for my dad
To go to work, and work hard to earn a dollar.
This poem was written to describe/honor a boat-shaped wooden sculpture on which a town was built.

Here’s humanity chucked on that tub
Figure the fuss in the ship’s hold
Roaming ‘round the deck, helm is hell for holding
How come that outland ship ain’t capsizing?

They ****** up their toll of ****** *****
Thrown out, left behind, they’re coping with that schism
Roving ‘round Ocean blue between two small isthmus
Grinning like they used to ain’t gonna be easy fun.

Here’s humanity beating it to starboard
If they had behaved themselves, possibly
God  almighty wouldn’t have batted an eye
Zealous lots in exile on that ****** city-boat

They built up  walls ‘gainst their bitter heartbreaks
Alleys, their homes and even small gardens
On a boat! Oh my, isn’t that tub gonna sink?
The wind-facing prow is a freakin’ chimera!

Such a craft is like a merry-go-round
You feelin’ sea-sick ? Looks like a hiccup!
It’s not rocket science, maybe a bit pitchin’
Here’s these talented convicts’ last resort!

Translated from the original version in French, July 19, 2018, Oullins. Appoline
Slang was originally written in French. I'll post the latter here for y'all: La compagnie des mat’lots ivres

V’la qu’l’humanité est flanquée sur ce rafiot
J’te dis pas l’ ramdam dans la cave des mat’lots
Ils errent sur le pont, à la barre c’est galère
Comment n’pas faire chavirer ce monde hors-terre ?

Ils en ont ramassé, des sacrés culs d’bouteilles
Chassés, amarres larguées, ils survivent au schisme
Ils errent sur la grand’ bleue entre deux pauvres isthmes
Pour retrouver l’sourire, c’est pas demain la veille.

V’la l’humanité qui fout l’camp à tribord
S’ils s’étaient comportés mieux, comme ça, de prime abord
L’bon Dieu là-haut, n’aurait pas remué l’moindre cil
Forcenés en exil sur un satané bateau-ville !

Ils ont construit des murs contre leurs chagrins amers
Des ruelles, leurs maisons menues et même des jardinets !
Sur un bateau, ma foi ! Ne va-t-il pas couler ?
La proue arbore, face au vent, une figure de chimère !

Cette embarcation-là, c’est comme un tourniquet
T’as pas le pied marin, t’aurais pas le hoquet ?
C’est pas la mer à boire, ça tangue juste un peu
V’la le dernier rempart d’ces bagnards talentueux.

Appoline, 18 Juillet 2018, Oullins
DP Younginger Jun 2018
Correcting lines,

Painting new stripes with clear coded markings,

Her curiosity is like an allergy to the heart,

Constantly craving to itch, but my reach is coming up short,

Torturing me with her innocent smile; a blushing cheek,

Eyes glowing in the direction of the teacher; an aspiring Jedi,

All I gave her was an answer,

A simple coat of honesty like armor to the Knight,

Abstractly patching together a robe of consistency,

She absorbs my words like a bubble attaching itself to another; becoming the giant,

An ever growing cloud of thought steaming fatter and fatter with the act of knowing,

I gush inside with the discovery of my own blemish to language,

My absent mind on autopilot as I glide into her turbulence,

Eyes completely stuck in this string of moments, one after the other,

I sit on my porch and wait for them to come home.
2018.6.6.
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