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"audi" poems
I've learned a lot this year. I've learned that things don't always go the way we want them to go. That life is not always gonna hand you roses. That you make your family. That my best friends have continually given me and Audi love even when I push them away. That God is the only way I'm gonna get through the darkest moments. That it's ok to cry. That a broken heart will fix it itself over time. That my normal has shattered and I have to make a new normal. That my family has been my rock. That my husbands best friends miss Maynard as much as I do. That my husbands best friends have stepped up on more then one occasion to be there for Audi and for me. That I love hugs! Lol That Audi is the reason I'm still alive That true saying that your heart breaks when your kids are hurting. That Maynard will be missed by so many. That I'm a good mom. That my parents have far exceeded making Audi and I feel loved. That I am a strong single mom! And I can do this and I have to do this.
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Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 5:08 PM UTC
I've learned a lot this year
out the trap into a brand new audi says A class stuff like i like my men and my drugs white but don’t project on me even if she still was in there she’d still be owning it devotion is a sin, she’s hunting but she’s not hungry
0
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
trap queen
Another year has been added onto my life. Everything is okay, And I thank God I’m still blessed, But my tears are just Getting bigger as the time Starts to trigger. My heart starts to get swollen As my mind still tries to Figure exactly what’s really going on. Why do I feel so alone? I try and close my eyes and picture home, But I’ve been gone for too long. I’m living in miseries. My only pain killer is a double shot of Hennessy. Lord give me ink and some paper Please. My soul cries out within the Ink that bleeds. Oct 6 was the day I was born. God how long will I live and still remain Trapped in this storm? My heart for writing Can’t be the reason I’m still alive. God gave me another chance To get my hands on the prize, But it’s been too long to why I’m still living in Disguise Of pure evil that set fire in my Eyes. Aching bones in my body, And a hopeless dream of Corvettes and audi’s. Entrepreneurship, And dedication is what I feen, But another year has been added onto This helpless black queen. I’m not sure why me. My pencil is about to break, And my paper is about to rip. The hardness of my thoughts, And my teeth that’s clenched and gripped Is only another episode to why I’m still Here. #HAPPYBIRTHDAY -Marci H.
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Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 10:18 PM UTC
Happy Birthday
[Life] I A man with no shoes walks by with a limp. His arms - covered in tattoos and scars - are lethargic by choice. The biting winter sun delivers respite from late December northerlies. He reeks of Franzia. Redolent, it shadows him, haunts him like what he drinks to forget. His unkempt white beard is stained yellow around the mouth from years of cigarettes and no-shave Novembers. He dons a jacket - faded glory - that is two sizes too small and his pants stay together like a couple for their kids. Too proud to join the Salvation Army on Christmas Eve, he finds his bench, lies down and survives one more night. II A man in a suit drives home in an Audi. His collar is stained with cheap lipstick and Chateau Lagrange from last night's late night meetings. Angie, his wife, waits anxiously at the door of their four bedroom, three and a half bath Victorian. Her eyes - still puffy and red - fixated up Swann St. She is not blinking and barely breathing. The kids have been sent to Grandma's for the night. They watch TV - SpongeBob SquarePants. The Audi drives by a man on a bench He looks asleep - possibly dead. The suit inside thinks to himself: “That poor man.”
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Nov 29, 2010
Nov 29, 2010 at 9:33 AM UTC
The Mirror Effect
*adverts and the internet medium:     d'uh... you forgot the capacity   of the mute button...                     wha'? wha'?                                                audi tt? (let's expand on the title: geometry (Y) the three dimensions, and trigonometry (W)... cosine rule, i.e. how three-dimensional space behaves).* i was born in the late 20th century, and, right now,                    i'm seeing the "problem" you thought jews in europe were the problem...               ever read anything           on the subject of kabbalah? i can only reply with sepultura's:                       ra-ta-ma'h-hatta'h... **** me, the tetragrammaton feels like licking a pharaoh's toes in linguistic terms... *and there are always four,             to ensure there's one*.                but at least the aztec pyramids were not burial grounds, or burial monuments, rather, sites of capital punishment...    which the conquistadors misunderstood! only the whites know the concept of ethno-masochism.                       by common-tongue standards so thoroughly expressed with    the desired eloquence, stated, already. social sciences are a disease                             in terms of science per se...      why isn't there a divine intervention         story with regards to the aztec pyramids? **** me and the scaffold!              the largest bird on earth,      and instead of flying off,                 it sticks its head into the earth to "hide".                           that's pushing it... that's saying the non-existence of god is based upon the non-existence of a good joke;           i just don't think he needs to be revered...                  but obviously people have other plans...           never mind the comedian...    mind the moloch;    so they pray, and pray, and ask, and plead, and end up looking like amassed lunatics...    they demand praying...    me? i demand of myself thinking about him... hard to think about nothing,    if i were thinking about nothing,           i simply would be, not thinking;   and you'd probably find me:                                                  painting. but **** me, aztec pyramids didn't receive a divine intervention    but the egyptian pyramids did...    clearly the aztec pyramids weren't vanity projects akin to burial sites / tombs...           clearly...              sites of enforcing capital punishment; years later mis-translated by conquistadors...   and in militant atheistic form...                                               said: retarted.
0
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 3:09 PM UTC
aztec pyramids ('h'h catch vowels! / laugh)
*adverts and the internet medium:     d'uh... you forgot the capacity   of the mute button...                     wha'? wha'?                                                audi tt? (let's expand on the title: geometry (Y) the three dimensions, and trigonometry (W)... cosine rule, i.e. how three-dimensional space behaves).* i was born in the late 20th century, and, right now,                    i'm seeing the "problem" you thought jews in europe were the problem...               ever read anything           on the subject of kabbalah? i can only reply with sepultura's:                       ra-ta-ma'h-hatta'h... **** me, the tetragrammaton feels like licking a pharaoh's toes in linguistic terms... *and there are always four,             to ensure there's one*.                but at least the aztec pyramids were not burial grounds, or burial monuments, rather, sites of capital punishment...    which the conquistadors misunderstood! only the whites know the concept of ethno-masochism.                       by common-tongue standards so thoroughly expressed with    the desired eloquence, stated, already. social sciences are a disease                             in terms of science per se...      why isn't there a divine intervention         story with regards to the aztec pyramids? **** me and the scaffold!              the largest bird on earth,      and instead of flying off,                 it sticks its head into the earth to "hide".                           that's pushing it... that's saying the non-existence of god is based upon the non-existence of a good joke;           i just don't think he needs to be revered...                  but obviously people have other plans...           never mind the comedian...    mind the moloch;    so they pray, and pray, and ask, and plead, and end up looking like amassed lunatics...    they demand praying...    me? i demand of myself thinking about him... hard to think about nothing,    if i were thinking about nothing,           i simply would be, not thinking;   and you'd probably find me:                                                  painting. but **** me, aztec pyramids didn't receive a divine intervention    but the egyptian pyramids did...    clearly the aztec pyramids weren't vanity projects akin to burial sites / tombs...           clearly...              sites of enforcing capital punishment; years later mis-translated by conquistadors...   and in militant atheistic form...                                               said: retarted.
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69
two MTA workers play invisible baseball across platforms at Union Square the runs in my tights mimic the skyscrapers whose marks I see across the black sky from the rear window while he ***** me in the backseat of his Audi an alley in Brooklyn, the threat of a subway slasher, the likelihood of getting lost, but the questioning by tourists for direction if I say “I am one of you”, it discredits my memories here: [pumpkins on 34th in July kisses in bathtubs in Meatpacking top of the Whitney] but I am not (yet) one of you: impatient drivers, L train riders, rainbow bagel obsessers I still feel a hand grip my throat when walking down 5th and throw my bones off the Chelsea Pier before I spend 11 hours wondering why I haven’t yet committed myself to you.
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Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 9:02 PM UTC
February in New York
Red blood seeping down the walls and pooling all over the pearl white floor.   Finally unleashing a scream boiled inside, which pierces the air with an unmatched fury. A menacing growl with every rev of its engine, an Audi R8 proves to be an evil on the road. A fish has a slight taste of salt and cyanide, the poison killing millions without a look from the government. Avenged Sevenfold’s Nightmare album, proving that even the happiest moment in your life. Can be a nightmare. Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Mark Maquire, diminishing baseball’s glory with steroids. The turmoil surrounding the government of Somalia and the pirates corrupting the country each and every day. The unbearable scent of sulfur, burning the nostrils of your nose with every intake of air. The lighting strike and the thunder crack. Hell.
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Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 5:29 PM UTC
Evil Is.....
I'm mother ******* mischievous Mysterious And deviant A whole new experience No jokes Man I'm serious Delirious Got some smoke In my lungs Gettin toked Can't keep up you a slow poke I've been working on my flow Not too fast and not too slow Writin words and spittin rhymes Never waste my ****** time Cause I ball hard Yeah that's my grind want that money ******* fine Want that Audi sip on wine Check my Rolex About time The throne is mine Take your pick have the treat Or have the trick Halloween Yeah that's the **** Dressing up Like a kid Livin like I'm ****** rich ignorant I gotta quit Cause these raps I write And flows I spit Sell like *** To a celebit Celebrate Cause we above the hate We don't listen they get irate Im In good hands That's Allstate in a new state Yeah new level Turn up the bass Hit the treble
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Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 7:12 PM UTC
The Beginning of our Adventure
I relished applying the butter on her body, She enjoyed slurping my cream, God knows how strongly we both used to dream, And now, Taking her higher for babies she lets out a scream, I am writing this ***** poem, She too is obviously not riding an Audi.
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Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 12:45 AM UTC
Her Butter, My Cream
Baby blue cushion with the fabric ties, painting rocks with orange and blue on newspaper, got a glob on the wood only rain can wash away. Clean the glass out with q-tips, squeaky clean, tap remains into ceramic bowl made in 3rd grade, medium blizzard with M&Ms; and Reece's peanut butter cups, a burger at that hotdog place featured on Martha Stewart with bacon bits, colored pencils, Barbie coloring books, Jeep keeps stalling in front of my house, don't eat my burger, Ellie and Duncan, full bag of mini peanut butter cups, South Park, Heavy Metal, The King of Limbs - eh, JWoww, Cupcake Wars, the Big Dipper, aqua colored bikini with a magazine full of pictures, videotape my monologues, short hair, sundresses, Nike shorts and tank tops. Mini with a pen in parking lot in Norwalk, feet in the pool water, ants, smelly dog, big house in New Canaan, white Audi A4, drive with the Mosley Tribes from Loehman's for $75 -- a steal, scotch tape on toenails, purple, blue, and green polished stripes, church parking lot on Duck Farm
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Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
Nineteen
This horrible feeling This constant reminder Of how my life is not one worth living So many mistakes So many regrets None is which can be returned to me All I want is for this smile on my face to be real I smile everyday I laugh all the time I say I'm happy Although not once was it true In 4th grade girls' minds Is how to braid hair and jump rope But in this 10 year old mind lays Suicidal thoughts to no end Except the one to unlatch No source of it Just the thought of What's the point in life?. No matter the direction we will take Our roads will all meet in one spot Death The beautiful, breath-taking moment of Death The moment I'm longing for But how will it come?. A car accident?. A heart attack?. Will it be gruesome?. Or will it be of natural cause?. In my sleep?. I don't care I just want it to come Come faster I don't want this life I'm living I don't care for it And never will I don't care if I will end up In my own big white house With matching white plates and bowls That's worth more than the snowy white husky And the an Audi R8 in the garage Alongside my perfectly polished children and spouse Who will never hear the idiotic thought of rebelling against me Or if I end up living with no job No fancy house Or a car Or family If I'm all alone Living in the streets I don't ******* care I just want the Grim Reaper to come take me Take me with you You have my soul to take Just put me out of my misery I can't stand being on this planet In this universe No strings attached Please I beg of you Just help Rid me of this Forsaken worthless case of a life I call my own Because it is unwanted It’s yours to take And keep
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Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 2:18 AM UTC
Suicidal Thoughts
This horrible feeling This constant reminder Of how my life is not one worth living So many mistakes So many regrets None is which can be returned to me All I want is for this smile on my face to be real I smile everyday I laugh all the time I say I'm happy Although not once was it true In 4th grade girls' minds Is how to braid hair and jump rope But in this 10 year old mind lays Suicidal thoughts to no end Except the one to unlatch No source of it Just the thought of What's the point in life?. No matter the direction we will take Our roads will all meet in one spot Death The beautiful, breath-taking moment of Death The moment I'm longing for But how will it come?. A car accident?. A heart attack?. Will it be gruesome?. Or will it be of natural cause?. In my sleep?. I don't care I just want it to come Come faster I don't want this life I'm living I don't care for it And never will I don't care if I will end up In my own big white house With matching white plates and bowls That's worth more than the snowy white husky And the an Audi R8 in the garage Alongside my perfectly polished children and spouse Who will never hear the idiotic thought of rebelling against me Or if I end up living with no job No fancy house Or a car Or family If I'm all alone Living in the streets I don't ******* care I just want the Grim Reaper to come take me Take me with you You have my soul to take Just put me out of my misery I can't stand being on this planet In this universe No strings attached Please I beg of you Just help Rid me of this Forsaken worthless case of a life I call my own Because it is unwanted It’s yours to take And keep
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67
Welcome to me too. Thanks for coming in high-altitude, if you're really into them. There are new-tutorials, and I'm not going to need one. Why not do the news? I love plain and simple. Free-market sloping losses will do this; because of bipartisan politics. Luyendyk news is crowded by Audi's and by partisan politics; I don't like my partisan politics. Star tutorials are tutorial-soon. This is a new tutorial for my into being given to the jury in tutorial. People present their uh dreams, and a jury room is like love; a little atmosphere me in a circle, meaning we are (he is) related to the moon . I'm the serving the Newburgh tutorial right now around this one: The new green play I'm into. This one’s just a little on the Brumbies cuz glass needs it to learn. I am the circus mom pursuing your doom; a mistaken rampant around jug-glass John, inputting the bar’s shiny leading to the bottom-thanked step. Number one is singing your doom on. Be an unloaded nerd, like a dump truck dumping dirt into our hearts while holding the whole lamar, and perfecting the bar starting with p. Put on the range near the whole ecosystem in a in a bubble. Second thing you gotta do is earn it, you do this, but we plan to our dirt up to nine innings. love things American like me in the new godliness. 99 dramas trapped under so now I'm a real utah zombie, and lines,
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Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
Alan
I wanna have nights with you where you take me out in your Audi we go to an abandoned lot and we just lay on the hood and stare at the stars and have unspoken thoughts leak from our lips and delicate finger tips touching each other sharing warmth under twinkling lights
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Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 8:24 PM UTC
Quiet Nights
my favourite part about being drunk is when I hold the end of a cigarette by the flame it doesn’t burn my fingers I am invincible I love when I’m drunk and you weave your fingertips through the holes in my tights close but not enough if I’m drunk enough I’ll let you walk me back to your apartment in Bushwick the hallways looking like The Overlook Hotel while you push me onto your bed and tell me all you want to do is lay naked next to me next thing you know I am your outlet I am a thousand resonating nos mine is every body you’ve ever wanted covered with glass and you wind my hair around your palm and I am drunk off the New York skyline off the back of an Audi off a taco truck in a bar that I submit and I beg you to fill all my holes
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Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 1:24 PM UTC
three diamond door
Silly sullen sentences strut in my brain boiling baffling batches of cluttered dust-bunnies creating a babel tower of lost love lullabies slowly decaying, dying, drifting Wet your quill with the ink of now write new lulls swaying your pendulum between your now's and what's yet to come
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Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 5:38 AM UTC
Audi Alteram Partem
I'm starting up a death wish to express this a whole list of ************* that I'd **** quick if they didn't move or get the **** out of my life and stay the **** outta mine before I cut your wife and take her life too and all the babies you grew you little ****** *** phoney player hating you must've been brought up wrong and learned different than me i don't like the way you say my name when you're talking about me I can taste the resentment and ******** sarcastic beneath the smile I see the ***** and the hate the mistrust don't get your face misplaced don't make me go to the store and register for a gun just to run up in your house and watch you scream and run I don't need that but trust me, when I wake up I feel like that's all I breathe and my heart deceives and tells me that I'd love to see someone bleed my enemies don't even know me and the truth about it is they can blow me I used to be nice I used to try to understand but now a days only so much ******** I can take as a grown man before I explode and back out and roll over your body in my audi my truck don't give no ***** neither so either apologize or beat it but either way I'm gonna move on with my day but just remember what I said before I'm really sick and tired of being played
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Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
Don't Play
And the old abbot aged and pulled down with cancer walked the cloister, et aestu saeculi nobis, even though cloistered and of God, I swept the landing after the office of Terce with large broom and dustpan and brush and there was a huge spiderweb in a window, Salve regina audi nos, Dom Kenneth sorted the altar cloths and plates and holy cup where the Crucified's blood is sipped, and she welcomed me in and sat me down and unbuttoned my flies and took out the feller, the deeds you do may be the only sermon some persons will hear today said Francis, au travail est de prier the French monk said as he helped me with the refectory cleaning up before lunch, George cast his stone further that the rest of us after the office of Sext and our lunch and sitting on the abbey beach, don't let your sins turn into bad habits Teresa said, mine almost did back then and with her Yochana that is not Teresa, bell ringing as Hugh showed us his thin frame and arms but the tolled bells carried to far and wide, parlare con Dio ed egli vi ascolterà the Italian monk told me but my prayer life was less than his, we are twice armed if we fight with faith said Gareth quoting Plato and I had only read the Republic that far, Dom Joe(dear Bunny) said to me God has something special in line for you but I never found it least not then,   πλέουν στη θάλασσα στο Θεό a visiting Greek monk said and Dom Charles translated for me but it went over my young man's head.
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Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 2:11 AM UTC
YOUNG MAN'S HEAD MCMLXXI.
A reason to love me you need a reason to love me Come and speak and I'll show you the hard way What jumps out of my mouth never meant to be offensive Something to say, bring it on, the fence is somewhere I'll never sit A reason to love me you need a reason to love me The face department never screamed I'm a looker A line of flattery, absurd over indulgence, yeah that should hook her Just don’t expect to much as like most I’m part failure A reason to love me you need a reason to love me having goals that will probably never be reached I’m just like him, run of the mill I know what I know and that you cannot teach A reason to love me you need a reason to love me always dreaming of a better tomorrow a charmed life if you just beg steal and borrow I’ll climb so high but not up Kilimanjaro A reason to love me you need a reason to love me I’m not driving around in a brand new Audi A6 if you want a city boy then he’ll do the trick I’m happy where I am out here in the sticks A reason to love me you need a reason to love me well you’ve seen what I’ve got and that’s me to a tee never fighting to hard so sod it what will be will be A reason to leave me you need a reason to leave me a summing up of a life just every day and ordinary what was you expecting, Clark Kent or some other story sorry my love, that’s just me, an every man, subtle and slightly boring JJB
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Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 8:05 AM UTC
An Every Man.
Dom Higgs came to the room and spoke to me of the monastic life it was late evening and the shutters were closed so no moon no stars, est forma mortis he said, moon glow by bell-tower especially after Compline and the haunting looking cloister, and she said her husband wouldn't be home for hours and there was time for it so we did, the French peasant monk peeled onions in the kitchen peler sous l'eau he said, I cut the grass around the gravestones of the monks and flattened out molehills before the hour of Sext, flying from the pains of hell we desire to reach life everlasting Benedict said, Hölle ist hier the German monk said pointing to his chest with his thick finger, Hugh made the chair in the guest house I saw it there after he told me he was no Charles Mackintosh but it served it's purpose, sancta Maris audi nos Dom Peter whispered in the cloister while waiting to enter the church for Vespers his voice thick as treacle but pure as soft snow, she undressed for me with the skill of a ***** I a youth unravelling the apple as Adam had, Dom Charles sat in the refectory at supper his face still as a china doll his eyes stern and unblinking maybe God-ward thinking, Dio è con noi the Italian monk said as he showed me how to sharpen the scythe his hands powerful fingers gripping the stone, non veniam sine poenitentia, the ultimate value of life depends upon awareness and the power of contemplation rather than upon mere survival Gareth said quoting Aristotle as we sat in the novice room after Terce, stars above me moon bright as ghostly ship I walked the drive way letting curses let slip.
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Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 3:31 AM UTC
CURSES LET SLIP MCMLXXI.
Dom Higgs came to the room and spoke to me of the monastic life it was late evening and the shutters were closed so no moon no stars, est forma mortis he said, moon glow by bell-tower especially after Compline and the haunting looking cloister, and she said her husband wouldn't be home for hours and there was time for it so we did, the French peasant monk peeled onions in the kitchen peler sous l'eau he said, I cut the grass around the gravestones of the monks and flattened out molehills before the hour of Sext, flying from the pains of hell we desire to reach life everlasting Benedict said, Hölle ist hier the German monk said pointing to his chest with his thick finger, Hugh made the chair in the guest house I saw it there after he told me he was no Charles Mackintosh but it served it's purpose, sancta Maris audi nos Dom Peter whispered in the cloister while waiting to enter the church for Vespers his voice thick as treacle but pure as soft snow, she undressed for me with the skill of a ***** I a youth unravelling the apple as Adam had, Dom Charles sat in the refectory at supper his face still as a china doll his eyes stern and unblinking maybe God-ward thinking, Dio è con noi the Italian monk said as he showed me how to sharpen the scythe his hands powerful fingers gripping the stone, non veniam sine poenitentia, the ultimate value of life depends upon awareness and the power of contemplation rather than upon mere survival Gareth said quoting Aristotle as we sat in the novice room after Terce, stars above me moon bright as ghostly ship I walked the drive way letting curses let slip.
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75
Why don't you follow the leader I bet I'll please ya grease ya Like lightening fast and frightenin' A born winner multiple sinner Servin emcees as dinner No complaints I remain calm Pockets are full while You with empty balms my palms Grip the mic iron tight fight all Ya want and I'll ignite The fuse once I blow I'll never loose Over my opponents pump the juice only if ya want it Slugs invested bullets injected Now mother nature rejected Your body I'm the black gotti- drive a black audi Fully loaded air compress the best to bless The mic so I suggest you take a quiz or test Cuz my rap wizardry entice misery mystery Like big foot lurking the forest I'll leave ya hooked more than chorus I master the rhyme technique don't speak Or else you be flowin' up **** creek Mute the critics gimmicks are nothing but mimics So test the king all ya want And every beat I touch I'll haunt
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Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC
Black Rain
Down the council where I used to live, they write to you in pencil and erase you at will. An appointment is the black spot that they bomb into your hand, every section or department is a minefield and the snipers who all own Audi's are working overtime to pick poor people off. They'll send you updates on the rent account and the housing rates which mean everything, and ignoring them brings another team from the offices, which we call the 'sting'. Busy bees, the bleedin' lot of them poking in and poking off again, it's time they wrote me in a ball point pen, thirty seven pence from 'Smith's' and then, I'd feel welcomed into the community, feel I had a bit of immunity from the eraser men who only want me when my system falls apart, it really breaks my heart that I pay them part of my salary, we should all be able to live this life rent free, down the council down the council damage limitation, but I got this inclination to ignore them and their eraser men, get a marker pen, paint my home with red ink, then **** the lot of them, let them send me South, down to Marshalsea, if this life's a fail let me end up in, that cosy place they call, 'bugger 'all' debtor's jail.
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Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 4:36 AM UTC
Dear Mr Mayor
. Me, God’s gift to women yeah that’ll be the day I am not like some others can’t say the things they say I can’t belittle women don’t brag about the *** Shouting size does matter in line waiting the next I do not have big muscles my abs are made of brew My arms are kind of scrawny my legs are that way too Don’t drive a brand new Audi (I rented up the street) Wear hundred dollar tennis shoes upon my two left feet My watch it is a Seiko I bought the thing on sale I do not have a golden tan I’m really kind of pale I do not think I’m cooler than anyone around And women would be lucky if it was me they found I never have been wealthy my wallet isn’t fat I don’t have several ladies names scribbled in a tat But then it doesn’t matter what I have said above I have a special woman and I am so in love She really thinks I’m perfect just the way I am Says I treat her wonderful, she’s glad I am her man She always makes me happy for her I do the same I’m not God’s gift to women and surely won’t complain For what I’ve have is true love the best that there can be I do not need to be a God if she’s in love with me
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Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 5:54 PM UTC
I do not need to be a God
Beáti immaculáti in via qui ámbulant in lege Dómini, I tolled the bells for the Angelus pulled ropes with George, be steady as you go less you are taken high Dom James had said (about bell pulling), sunlight on the cloister after lunch and birds from the one tree in the cloister garth, taking my hand she lead me to her bed to be bedded, there are those who seek knowledge in order to serve that is love said Bernard, the French monk said Dieu est dans tous, I heard Hugh pale faced talk of perfection in the deeds done he cleaned the latrines with dedication, the peasant monk walked from farm to cloister bringing manure for the flower beds in a wheel barrow steady as a ship through smooth waters, she lay there with that glint of eye plough my furrow she said, I weeded the monks graves all Latin named and Roman numerals, none mow as you do Dom Frederick said by the church as I mowed grass, we must sow the seed not hoard it Dominic said, I sowed and she smiled and lay there quite bare, sancta Maria audi nos, the smell of incense in the choir stalls and bread fresh baked, George and I laughed at the large table napkins large as bed sheets spread from neck to lap space, Hugh laughed not and unamused his pale face.
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Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
BLESSED ARE THE PURE 1971