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"bushido" poems
tizz is love it or hate it, nuttin' in between addicted to yayo like sheen, 500 bpm heartbeat don't do it anymore, but remain psychotic and hunt down idiotics like a carnivore from florida to berlin, from tropic to toxic deep in da game, da grimy streetz know my name it'z tizzop, 14.8 inchez of hip-hop hangin' at rashid'z, shisha ready, cuban necklace three men in da back but ya don't know who it iz all of 'em are dark-skinned, all of 'em are bearded most important of all: all of 'em are fearless we don't know what it meanz to be scared just some migrantz who will now be heard da territory split up: kurdz, arabz and turkz we got our own law, like omerta, like da cosa one apartment here, and one block' there like bushido did, back in da dayz wit fler sonny black carlo, godfatherz, yeeeah power is about makin it and takin it, unlike nine said unlike any other guy said, and if ya don't wanna buy it find ya eyez in da wine-red, da choppaz are wild catz ya can use them for da furiouz, some become notoriouz otherz don't and die, but dey will be honored: watch da muralz; urban networkz, also in da rural, and five-o just remainz neutral; it is crucial to be brutal as it iz to remain truthful; lyricistz can't deal wit diz g-boy attitude of tizz: letz celebrate diversity and ante up on google, i write barz and do diz i'm a little too youthful for these oldskoolish
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Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 8:12 AM UTC
A Migrant's Tale
All weapons of    the fates you've sealed Are no match for    this pen I wield The power to    articulate Ticking rhyme bombs    to detonate The conflicts waged    gambling mankind My perfect hand    is treaties signed Hellbent hounds pray   like dogs, I hunt Frontline this notebook   battlefront With metaphors   of mindless drones   Like similes   to brainwashed clones Whose C4 booms   and IED's Can't build bridges   like ABC's Or tear them down   with death regimes By rusting through   the war machines Flamethrowin’ my   verbal grenade With ****** noun   scorched-earth tirade   On militant   cold-blood elite King cobras know   I'm packing heat Seeking missile   resolution Winged raptor   devolution Prehistoric   barbarism Literacy   cataclysm Stockpiling   extinction bones We're cavemen carving   fallout stones My Hiroshima   prose explodes With nuclear   bushido codes Released from my     katana's ward To free my press   from shogun lord Oppressing haiku   imagery   And samurai   epigraphy   Expressions of   my ronin soul Omitted by   the daimyo Satsuma is my   poetry     My final draft's   Nagasaki    Ink cartridges   strapped 'round my neck I print no charge   or background check And ****** every   live round free Of innocent   blood elegy And killing sprees   of gunned-down news Domestic violence   black and blues A Number 2   pencil dependent Obsolete   lead-head amendment Open carry   shoots a blank Empty shell case   at my think tank So grip this peace   then **** and pull it **** my diction   write the bullet
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Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC
Weapon of Choice
All weapons of    the fates you've sealed Are no match for    this pen I wield The power to    articulate Ticking rhyme bombs    to detonate The conflicts waged    gambling mankind My perfect hand    is treaties signed Hellbent hounds pray   like dogs, I hunt Frontline this notebook   battlefront With metaphors   of mindless drones   Like similes   to brainwashed clones Whose C4 booms   and IED's Can't build bridges   like ABC's Or tear them down   with death regimes By rusting through   the war machines Flamethrowin’ my   verbal grenade With ****** noun   scorched-earth tirade   On militant   cold-blood elite King cobras know   I'm packing heat Seeking missile   resolution Winged raptor   devolution Prehistoric   barbarism Literacy   cataclysm Stockpiling   extinction bones We're cavemen carving   fallout stones My Hiroshima   prose explodes With nuclear   bushido codes Released from my     katana's ward To free my press   from shogun lord Oppressing haiku   imagery   And samurai   epigraphy   Expressions of   my ronin soul Omitted by   the daimyo Satsuma is my   poetry     My final draft's   Nagasaki    Ink cartridges   strapped 'round my neck I print no charge   or background check And ****** every   live round free Of innocent   blood elegy And killing sprees   of gunned-down news Domestic violence   black and blues A Number 2   pencil dependent Obsolete   lead-head amendment Open carry   shoots a blank Empty shell case   at my think tank So grip this peace   then **** and pull it **** my diction   write the bullet
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92
I think of honor, and pride And the clashing of swords The Heart that beats inside Master my weapon, an art form I will protect my land and master, At the cost of my own life Arrows and katanas only come faster, And I'll slip in to the light The code I've lived by, do or die, A samurai
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Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
Bushido Code
Original honour killing, But the killing of self, Eviscerate with the Sword, Samurai Warrior chooses his death, Rather than an enemy steal his last breath. Original honour killing, Bushido; Seppuku, Disembowelment left to right, This great honour is fused with a great pain, Plunged through his skin to make himself pure again.
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Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 6:32 AM UTC
Seppuku
a warrior poet Reflecting upon thyself In bed alone visited by someone else Golden in color niether man nor woman I was not afraid With a wave of its hand Two of me divided and I was transported To another place Where all were lost Lustfull, afflicted; some even possessed My heart was heavy with echoes Hopeless is this! A thunder of words interrupted my doubt "Yet the worst of these is laughter" A jester rose from the stone ground His teeth brilliant white fangs He whispers to cops and gangs Judges and jury. And they scoffed the weak. Meaning to them was bleak. Because its power we all seek. Artform is identified. And innocence is part of mine. But also destruction, Of that jokers function. The devil is my foe. And I will not be laid low. Again. Together; We win.                    He won. he lost. We win.
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Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
bushido (the mockers death)
I crossed you in a battle in a distant land , in the Rising Sun Country. I was ordered in a new Code of Bushido in a new mission of injustice. I followed your steps courageously with an unconditional willingness. I heard the lament of my people whispering with pain how long will be tormented….. A Death Fog Veil covered the human souls my breath was iced. A brave fighter came to me was the Last Samurai I have ever seen…. I was dazzled by his power. His sword blazed like a fire, sharp as a steel. Master I yelled show me the way, to defend my people to give my life, if this is written to my destiny path. Teach me the Rules. Teach me the Code of Honor. To protect the Law. To respect my Opponents. Obedience and Discipline will be my heavy duty. He embraced me, with a peerless wisdom a breezy air, blew off my lungs and he told me silently. The warriors’ road is long and never ends Be Brave my Son! I kept his last words as a Promise. ©By Mina Boulekou
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Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 2:49 PM UTC
The Last Samurai
Red lips White paint hides death her grace a butterflies wing life caught in her cold stare of her sting. All dressed in colours which catch the moons glare she kisses you like death kisses away the life that fades from sleep an angel with a bushido blade cuts away the bamboo which grows with haste the light fades into a full moon A butterfly hiding in a tomb with carnivorous teeth hiding a song of red bloodied despair her cold touch ice on skin catches your heart within sin The black tea ceremony of vampiric death or matrimony if she chooses you for her thrall.
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Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 12:41 PM UTC
Geisha vampire
Peace on your head, Brother I Love you. We Love you. PEACE YOU HEARD WHAT I SAID. WITHOUT HIM I WOULD BE DEAD nah No im not deaf Place treble cleff Im not the best but one day I hope to be the best that I can be. That we can be, be free. NO SEE we are one and of one blood you YOU HERE ME SON said we are one we ONE STAR the son we need the blood I see the son BLINDING EYES im fighting lies inside my mind i hide the blind. Like playing poker but the river is only mine imtryin to find; A doubtfull shadow in a drought over overexposure in a year boutes ROUND 1 HERE ME CLEARY MY SON ears and eyes can be numb Steady ******* my thumb Heres the truck and it runs Spill my ill from this quill bleed a vision Instill? Piledrive at the mill Robots is Optomis drilled Pills and pharmacists **** Im just a kid when it comes to this But poetry is this is Hope you dont miss this TWIST IT UP IF YOU WANT To do it thru it we **** hate And Love is my median No not a comedian Just meditate I see a dream and it's color blind I said the gun is thiers and im right We SOLD YOU RIGHT!? IM COLD AS ICE. but hold it tight. I speak too boldy right. Seams white is not the light? Mold me and soul the frieght GHOST IS A SOLDIER NIGHT hahha ^-^ hahha love ya Brother
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Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
Bushido
bushido ruling I offer up my haiku wakizashi kills
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Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 1:43 PM UTC
while the blackbird sings - haiku
Musically yours I can hear a lyre, Singing behind the fire. Liar, liar, pants on fire; The Devil is a guitar hero and he lives down in the mire. Music tells you what to think And allows you to think for yourself at the same time. Music allows me to say what I mean, So this is why I write words that rhyme. It's like splitting an atom; What's yours becomes mine and I hope I blow a mind. I had better write a song before the thought is gone, Before I bid you goodbye with a peace sign. As flames dance up and down in the mist, A thought sparks into life. Who is the demon? The man or the myth? Dancing in the bushes; dancing in the night. Bushido fighter, samurai; As time goes by I hear a tune. Like a sword swiping through a jungle vine, The words sink into my soul and wash away my pain and I am anew. (C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 7:08 AM UTC
Musically yours
Ronin falsely accused of pledging allegiance to God, king, country, creed or kin any and all become stains on my sword should push come to shove, by honor neither bought nor ordered... guilty as charged ronin.
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Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
Bushido (Rictameter #2)
Honor before all else, duty and obedience without question. Never strike in anger, always be dutiful to your master. Protect the weak and defenseless, in all things live as you believe. Your sword is part of you, an extension of yourself. Focus and harmony must be your creed. Nothing must distract you from the task set before you. Until your end, how ever it may come, you must live the code you have chosen to adapt as your way of life.
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Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC
Bushido
It's okay. I don't blame you, most of what I have to say, falls on deaf ears anyway. They say the road to hell, is paved with good intentions, like the cherry tree split in two dimensions. Here comes a rain storm, so we'll see, how that Great Man, begins to flee. Uncle Sam says, I want you. You want me to die, in a battle of crude oil and some glue? **** that **** I begin to cry, all the while they begin to fly, to the other side of the desert. It's okay. I don't blame you, most of what I have to say, falls on deaf ears anyway. The children speak to their families now, Why mom, why dad? Must I despise that towel head? Yes dear, they softly speak, they hit us first so now we freak, the **** out, and glass em, til they speak. No more. It's okay. I don't blame you, most of what I have to say, falls on deaf ears anyway. Freedom and democracy, Uncle Sam cries, Don't let their tyrrany make you shy, stand up for your right to live and lie. Terrorists they call them, Oh, that much is true. True, true, So that gives us the right to prosecute. Those that resist. Are terrorists themselves, says the NDAA, let's incarcerate them without a trial today, off to GTMO, on you go. It's okay. I don't blame you, most of what I have to say, falls on deaf ears anyway. You can take that to the bank he says, that ebony clad man, dressed to please, denies himself and his liberty. They are armed with nucular weapons, that balding man spits, and down we go into the pit. Of Hell-fire and brimstone. Is what they preach, to the masses, let's wash their brains in bleach! You like it that way, modern Bushido man. You slave, you sheep, you ignorant twip. It's okay. I don't blame you, most of what I have to say, falls on deaf ears anyway.
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Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
The State
It's okay. I don't blame you, most of what I have to say, falls on deaf ears anyway. They say the road to hell, is paved with good intentions, like the cherry tree split in two dimensions. Here comes a rain storm, so we'll see, how that Great Man, begins to flee. Uncle Sam says, I want you. You want me to die, in a battle of crude oil and some glue? **** that **** I begin to cry, all the while they begin to fly, to the other side of the desert. It's okay. I don't blame you, most of what I have to say, falls on deaf ears anyway. The children speak to their families now, Why mom, why dad? Must I despise that towel head? Yes dear, they softly speak, they hit us first so now we freak, the **** out, and glass em, til they speak. No more. It's okay. I don't blame you, most of what I have to say, falls on deaf ears anyway. Freedom and democracy, Uncle Sam cries, Don't let their tyrrany make you shy, stand up for your right to live and lie. Terrorists they call them, Oh, that much is true. True, true, So that gives us the right to prosecute. Those that resist. Are terrorists themselves, says the NDAA, let's incarcerate them without a trial today, off to GTMO, on you go. It's okay. I don't blame you, most of what I have to say, falls on deaf ears anyway. You can take that to the bank he says, that ebony clad man, dressed to please, denies himself and his liberty. They are armed with nucular weapons, that balding man spits, and down we go into the pit. Of Hell-fire and brimstone. Is what they preach, to the masses, let's wash their brains in bleach! You like it that way, modern Bushido man. You slave, you sheep, you ignorant twip. It's okay. I don't blame you, most of what I have to say, falls on deaf ears anyway.
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55
Mistah Gates. He dead" Time is an ouroboros and the Earth a flat circle Measure out your life in insta pics Let us go then, you and I, through empty diamonds and deserted play grounds. Let us visit, if you will, the battlefields , streets full of bodies that decay in minutes. In waiting rooms people come and go and speak of tanks and Bushido   Eyes I dare not meet Can see me with their headpiece made of straw This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends Forgotten, as we stare at our new ones.
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Jul 11, 2019
Jul 11, 2019 at 11:31 PM UTC
Prufrock On the Edge of the World
In the morning Claudia woke to Find her lover Gone. She want looking for him Only to see Boris getting his head shaved One of the monks said in broken English That he live here He look the part They did not tough his piercings Thank god She thought but “He is uniquely handsome with no hair” she thought to Herself When they got back to their appartment He Boris told Claudia That he wanted marry her Before he started studying To be a Lama. He kissed her gently And While kissing Claudia Ask what his name would Be Boris said after they got married That his name will be Tashi Surya. Claudia thought That was gorgeous name And kissed him. So the former street urchin Turn Lana was Going to be her partner in life As they made love After she met with a local To see were she could open up a school For her to teach karate Until the local said to teach The monks An idea that she did think of She had to get the local To translate for her Since she couldn’t speak tibetan When a deal was made She saw that Boris aka Tashi Was talking in tibetan with His new friends. She knew he spoke some Russian But this was a surprise. When they were alone She asked him to teach Her while they made love Every night. She learned better that way. With in a few nights of love making With practice conversation She was flaunt. Claudia during the day Either practiced her karate Or started sketching. She was drawing people And the other monks One was beautiful And loved using him as a model She soon started talking to him And felt unusual feelings For the fellow. She did not tell Boris about her crush But he saw the pictures she drew He felt no jealousy Thinking that bushido MAde her loyal to him. He kissed her And said that in a few days They would be in wedded bliss After they got married Claudia and who was named Tashi Still had gently passion only at night He whispered that he will always be Boris To her.
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Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 9:32 AM UTC
Love in the Himalayas
In the morning Claudia woke to Find her lover Gone. She want looking for him Only to see Boris getting his head shaved One of the monks said in broken English That he live here He look the part They did not tough his piercings Thank god She thought but “He is uniquely handsome with no hair” she thought to Herself When they got back to their appartment He Boris told Claudia That he wanted marry her Before he started studying To be a Lama. He kissed her gently And While kissing Claudia Ask what his name would Be Boris said after they got married That his name will be Tashi Surya. Claudia thought That was gorgeous name And kissed him. So the former street urchin Turn Lana was Going to be her partner in life As they made love After she met with a local To see were she could open up a school For her to teach karate Until the local said to teach The monks An idea that she did think of She had to get the local To translate for her Since she couldn’t speak tibetan When a deal was made She saw that Boris aka Tashi Was talking in tibetan with His new friends. She knew he spoke some Russian But this was a surprise. When they were alone She asked him to teach Her while they made love Every night. She learned better that way. With in a few nights of love making With practice conversation She was flaunt. Claudia during the day Either practiced her karate Or started sketching. She was drawing people And the other monks One was beautiful And loved using him as a model She soon started talking to him And felt unusual feelings For the fellow. She did not tell Boris about her crush But he saw the pictures she drew He felt no jealousy Thinking that bushido MAde her loyal to him. He kissed her And said that in a few days They would be in wedded bliss After they got married Claudia and who was named Tashi Still had gently passion only at night He whispered that he will always be Boris To her.
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79
from my new anti war book Eventful War Nick Armbrister Toy Box To build an empire you need the right tools And Imperial Japan had those in abundance Armed to the teeth with skilled warriors willing to fight Advanced warplanes like the Zero, Val and Kate The best torpedoes in the world the Long Lance The Bushido fighting spirit of never surrender Outlawed explosive bullets won an empire A wicked tool was the ‘Assault No 1’ standard military-issue ****** **** as a weapon of war with Comfort Women the prize Fighting spirit blooded from 1931 until 1945 When the Divine Wind was unleashed Ravenously fighting till the Imperial Empire fell
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Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 10:13 AM UTC
Toy Box
Prove me wrong I need to know If all along I've come to grow Into my own Bushido code Of conduct guiding me to show How good intentions paved this road With my abode's most humble tone To build a hearth of stone for those To melt their souls adorned in gold And sleep in spirit's selfless home Or just to fill this house alone With all the seeds we humans sowed As bombs explode and we foreclose On bungalows and debts we've owed To others' woes and sin atones Colossusses of ancient Rhodes The person that to be you chose To roam this earth, renounce the thrones For all this power shall erode To nothing more than buried bones
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Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 2:37 AM UTC
Cognitive Dissonance
Samurai writer Bushido inspired Katana withdrawn Edge hardened by fire (Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2017)
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Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 7:34 PM UTC
Kiai Fire