"ceasar" poems
Its timeto yoke the joker
yo to the emcees that think they could get with me
i wet em like an ocean tide personality like jekyll and hide
which means im a killa slash for short drama no comma imma
brutal emcee eatin' 'em up the best of em im the lyrical cannibal
flesh rent devil sent no need for repent
comin' with wickedness born with 8 flows if ya only knew
******* come in the sets of three im givin' wishes for free
the rap genie aint' comin' to be a hero the black zorro thorrough
shoot up the barrio dead eye hawkin' assassin' blastin'
with the greatest tech mouth shots or physical shots it don't matter
whatever it takes to get the job done
my posse cocked d slapped you *******
you can smoke all the spinach you want and you leave like popeyes
get it naw forget sensitive ******* i knit it
write in graffiti love hoes shape like Nefertiti queen b goddess
never a ***** **** in my encore **** with me and ill bring the war along with gore
******** never been a softie
daddy had to be a gangsta **** hustler drug dealer all summed in one
so i had no choice but to pack a gun
but meanwhile im onto bigger and better things like rappin' on the mic i cling
flows tighter rhan pliers leave emcees wrapped up like cable wires
the sire embraced higher learning spurning over obstacles
turn complexity into miracles
how could i ever fall if i never fall failure not an acceptation
id rather sells drugs and extortion and get caught wit 25 big ones
fed time **** the state time im on the grind one time
always wanna see me fall black man finna rise planet of the apes style
hot and wild j ceasar with these skills i spills sendin' chills
its an ice age all over just say its over when big yosef grab the mic
prepare for fright when i ignite blast through hearts like a cannon
i just smoke ya ya mediocre its time to yoke these jokers
yea
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
If you have a moment,
Sir or Madam,
would you please hear my lament,
of the sad and woeful tale
Of Fail.
Hidden behind masks,
Enscribed with who he wished to be,
Yet,
Ever so deceptive,
Of his true identity.
Today, I am Ceasar,
Tomorrow, Shakespeare.
Yet,
These masks,
Are but a tool...
Tomorrow's play,
They will soon say,
Shall be my most glorious act,
Known to man!
With no regret,
Do not fret,
I shall don the greatest of all masks...
Myself!
Now, you may ask,
Who is Myself?
We put our true identity on the shelves,
To show no mortal, not even ourselves!
Yet,
perhaps...
Bear with me...
If I were myself...
I would be content with myself!
No, no, no...Forgive Me!
Who am I to say this the way to be!
The only way to be merry...is to be someone who I am not!
To please others is the way to attain happiness, is it not?
Fail discarded his "Myself" mask that day,
Yet, forevermore, everyday,
He questioned who he was,
As he never truly felt to be himself.
Now, since you have stuck by me until the end of this tale,
And, with the unfortunate Fail,
I inquire of you, and, please, discard all of your masks, if you can:
Who are you, really?
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
*I close my eyes above my salad
Nobody here can see
Praying that God would keep her well
And take care of her
Be it well away from me*
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 8:35 PM UTC
Thanks to that velveteen tone he
saves for me
And his turpentine diction,
The cliches that made my eyes roll
Now make my heart rush
Nonetheless, my thoughts riot as follows...
(When urged to call him something cheery
something no smile can wane at
like that fleck of gold in his left iris)
Well, "sunshine" should suffice
And Latin for that equals
"Apricitas"
Which phoneticized equals
"Opry cheetahs"
So the obvious endearment here is
Opry
(When urged to call him something pure
perhaps upon watching him blink
or blush
or blow
cigarette ringlets away from babies)
"Snowflake"?
No, that's a slang for ***** these days
So, "raindrop"
Yes
If Latin is dead,
It sure knows how to haunt me
"Gutta imbrium"
Ember
My little ember
The only glow in all this charcoal
(When urged to call him something pretty
when he's brushing his hair
or allowing me to arrange red clovers
in his sideburns)
Hm, let's testdrive "moonlight"
Let's shift into Latin, "luna lumen"
Thus the nickname I bite back is
Lulu
/Lulu/
While I hear darlings and dearies
on the daily
Why must I fail to mirror him?
(When urged to call him something sweet
like the butterscotch kisses he whispers
into my knuckles)
Like a honeycomb
Or as Ceasar would say, "cera mel"
Close enough?
Caramel?
Carousel?
Dizzy, then
We spin
In silence
(When urged to call him something cute
with his cap on sideways
and his head in my lap
and the world at my heels)
Kitten
Catalus
Catapult
Half of that backwards might as well be
Tulip
Two lips
Two tongues
Too much, yet never enough of his
Smoke bomb pomegranate mouth
For heaven's sake, see?
That's why I kiss instead of speak
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 9:08 PM UTC
Sit back as I free base the mic
Keep ya *** tight
Like constipation facin’ the nation
One man crew represent
Houston smell my lbs of mints
I get intense leave brain cells pinched
Rhymes lynched clear the bench
When I make a walk around talk around
I get around **** more than bobby brown
Make emcees jump around I get down
Like James Brown
the Black Ceasar
Take over the crowds leave *******
Leaning like the tower of Pisa
I even got Mona Lisa
To Crack a smile biggie with my flow
As well as what sits below
The heavy set hitter no bullshitter
Think twice I’m spittin’ naughty nothing
So come.with it
But I know you ****** bluffin’
Actin’ toughin’
til they see me
They Common Man as David Ruffin
Now the guns got they spirits floatin’
Throw ya ashes in the ocean
**** a notion
I’m shady take notes from.the lyrical.
Oracle now say it im…
Hit up the scene
With pounds of green
& 50 gran sittin’ in between
My Benz six hundred the best class
Showin’ raw ***
Check the state it reads Texas plates
How can I relate ?
To the loot im accumulatin’
Aint no debatin’
jealous critics be hatin’
Im.creatin’
An epitome so forceful the feds can’t get to me
Gettin’ more *** then pimps get
forget
What they sayin’
pay attention to my pipe layin’
****** beats with no need for sheets
Sneak peak dirtier than a Iraq Sheik
Smooth as an undercover like women of cocoa butter
Skin since the world is sin
I take a shot of gin for the djinn
To settle in
Take control then i menace the mic
Like Mike got the game on lock
6 undefeated makin’ miracles
Not satirical got critics sayin’ he’s Unbelievable! !!
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
'So easy'
some would say,
the one who never had his day spin in a silent night or turned
his back to find he looks upon himself.
So easy,
like the spasms of the first ****** the beginning of the fall
and in the falling getting smaller, smaller but finding as the crow flies South in fact you're getting taller and the circle that you're in is the thing that's getting smaller, so you flex your limbs and climb and it's easy climbing over, getting over walls that try to keep you in, they never get to teach you that in colleges or seats of learning,
it's like they'd rather leave you yearning, wanting more and burning with the want of it.
But you never pluck your eyes out to see what lies behind because those learned fellows tell us that to do that makes us blind and if that's so and we take heed we'll never know, I'd rather bleed to death than waste my breath and then again I know that breath is just a roundabout of which a death is just one turn-off,
several light years, where the teardrop drops and all time stops to catch another breath and death is just a taste on the palate of some ancestral waiter,
I wait another turn foregoing all the pain and pleasure of that once in a lifetime final seizure,
I am my own and I am Ceasar in my home, a caliph to sit upon the throne and who can tell me no?
even so
I fall and fall and small or tall without a doubt it evens out
in the end.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
Back then when we were friends
I didn't worry about the ending
But then again,
It was foolish, to live life, without concern
So I came to learn
In the end, I was in awe
I wonder did it take much thought
I became the Ceasar to hold your daggers
Et tu (even you) must understand the treachery in your act
Bleeding out, I could not react
Now I still breath, but bare these scars
An awful memento of a mournful past
I press on, but never the same
Anger and hate my only friends
That's how this ends
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
Marcus sits and asks
for wine to be poured.
His man pours and hands
him the wine and waits nearby.
Annona looks at her husband,
his eyes, his hard stare,
his hands holding the wine.
Where's your Amy? he says
gazing at his wife.
Busy as usual, Annona says, why?
He dismisses his man who walks
off and out of sight; I’ve heard
that she shares your bed, Marcus says.
Annona tries hard not to blush
or show concern, who says?
Brutus replies, it has been brought
to me on my return from my
campaign on Ceasar's cause.
She looks past him, the seascape
beyond the wall, gulls in flight.
She keeps my reputation sure
until your return, she says, some
may rumour that other men may
share my bed, and that may cause
jealousy in your manly head.
How so? he says with furrowed brow.
If she weren't there, who
knows what rumours may
take root of other men being
there while you're away, but
while Amy's there none may
say, plus she keeps me warm
while your hot body's far away
in battle's swarm.
He smiles and sips his wine.
She breathes in deep and keeps
it to herself just how much her
Amy keeps her warm and hot,
and how they make love
while he's away.
How wise, he says, that is good
to know, but is she clean, I'd hate to
catch a pox where she may lay?
As clean as air around our heads
and lambs fresh born, Annona says
recalling Amy's lips upon her brow,
her hand upon her ****** bush.
Then good keep her near while I'm
at war, better to keep me happy
and sure no other man may share your bed.
No thought of such had ever entered
her head, just Amy and she with their
rough and tumble as a storm breed sea.
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 2:57 PM UTC
Blasphemy, blasphemy in the city of Rhapsody
Casualties, casualties increased in number, they plunder
Gold chains, gold rings, and hoes
******* up on their nose
Knives and bullet holes
Liquor fumes run out there pores
Another round it's time to pour
Ball, and steal the ones you love
Grim, like reapers, scythe laying in the trunk
So rowdy, you getting punked
Get out the house, get on the funk
I am, I am the kid who is stacking dollars
I be, I be the one they call the POWER
Stealing from yall' what is no ones
So I came to ball and unfold them
Ace of spades, I be rubbing on the jin
So dam turnt I do now know how it can be sin
She is fire, infernos desire, my mind admires, her waterfall I acquire
I just want that hot verse and that choir
Encore, encore I think I want more
Just like Ceasar, man's brain gets distorted
Because they hoeing, because the gold and drugs that come, people change when you got that dolla huh?
People change, People change, when you got that dolla huh?
Huh?
I be, I be a one man choir
Look at all these ******* in the game. 'Bout to grab that empire
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 1:47 PM UTC
knock, knock, knock
I open my door
and am immediately
greeted by
three 19 year old elders.
They want to talk to me
about Jesus and
their version of
a sacred text and I want
to talk to them about: God,
Philosophy, Religion,
Art, Music, etc.
but I just put a greasy
pan on med-high
heat to cook some
bacon and it's
filling my apartment
with smoke.
Yet, my curiosity of
these creatures at
my door temporarily
supersedes kitchen
safety protocols,
so I start to oblige
them and even
entertain some light
discourse in the
hallway.
I begin to explain my
perspective when
my attention skips back
to the pan
and the hot metal
smell tickling my nose.
-protocols back in place-
I decline their invitation
to visit their temple, now
or any time in the
future, then shake
their hands.
I accept a pamphlet
from the last one,
"The Plan of Salvation",
after he scribbles a
phone number on
the back.
I wish them luck
and close my door
without locking it,
stride over to the skillet
and take it off
the burner.
Good thing I removed
the batteries from
all the smoke
detectors.
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 8:25 PM UTC
Shakespeare’s Caesar
Was never noble
Dripping blade dropping blood
Brutus nailed it
To cease the invasions
To end the destabilization
To save his nation
From a warmonger
Crimson smothered blade
Slick with sic gore
The ideas of march
Antony claimed
Noble Caesar
And the masses followed suit
The mob never knew the truth
Caesar was a monster
Gutted and blooded
Life flooded from his vein
But never came close to the stains
That painted his hands
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 5:37 PM UTC
Faking beliefs to believe in the fake.
For the real is way to real.
I still don't want to awake.
I'll imagine I've got a tastier meal.
Be strong, I say, don't give in.
For it will be for the wrong reason.
Spaghetti, potatoes, peas, please don't sin.
Steak or stew or mussles with season.
Scones, soup, browney with a liquid core.
Or rather think of a good baked fish.
Don't, just don't think of him anymore.
Try to replace him with your favorite dish.
I can' give in, I can't give up.
It won't be good if I drink the same cup.
Again and again it's a cup with a crack.
And all my sweet cocoa will flee right back.
I keep thinking, is this right?
I can't tell right from wrong in my blurred sight.
It's bad to go back, so just go on forth.
But my eyes slip back, like a compass needle north.
I need to hold myself, faults won't do me good.
I'll just have to stop my thinking with even more food.
It's a similar hormone triggered, I will feel the same.
What am I? Will I rather be fat again to spare me of the pain?
Why am I weak, it's such a one way to think.
But what else to do when my heart's about to sink.
Pop in my head, there he is again.
Chocolate, chicken breast, bread full of grain.
Don't think, just don't think at all.
Will he be hurt, does he think of me at all.
Is he alright, what is he up to right now.
Does he miss me, and I just wonder how.
Stop it, weakling, you can do better than this.
Orange sauce, porto dressing, ribs as soft as a kiss.
Mac and cheese, ceasar salad, do you think he is alright.
Was I wrong, after all he still wanted to fight.
No, be strong, honeydressing, porkchop, carrot stew.
How many chances did I give him a new?
Stop it, steamed beef, apple cake, am I really mad?
Why did walking away from him feel so bad.
Faking beliefs to believe in the fake.
For the real is way to hard.
I still don't want to believe my mistake.
For I too was wrong at my part.
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 10:49 PM UTC
Miles and miles in high relief
They stood along the apian way
Western sun burned eyes to darkness.
Parched and lashed to cedar.
Chilled in the evening frost..
The mighty had spoken.
Yes. To be broken by the flay.and lash
Along the apian way.
A dying example for all to see.
Hail Cesar.mighty ceasar.
The world is Rome.
Rome is the world.
Where is Rome today ?
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 4:56 AM UTC
i asked how you were doing
because people
forget to do that a lot
like the way they
forget to clean the lint
out of the vent in the dryer
like the way they pass
you like a sea of faces
when they've been inside
of you
their eyes
once preserved the
lining of your skin
like embalming fluid
that trapped all of
your best qualities
like an essence in
a polaroid photo
i'm glad that
you found someone
whose shadow you
could watch like
a second vision of me
her courvoisier hair
falling
down her back
like a freudian slip
you peeled my layers
like an unrelenting onion
except your tears were
like history
they floated across
the air like the
ships that carried my
caramel brown
ancestors
like the clouds
that showed
them the interpretation
of dreams
that grew and breathed
like daniel ceasar's voice
at 12:33 am
like accepting love
that you don't deserve
and eating two pieces of pie
right before you go
to bed
telling yourself
that life is too short
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 12:01 PM UTC
he stood at the door caching kudos and high fives
the life of the party the guy at the end of the party
had the lampshade on not much else but a red grin and nose
he was invited to every one
for his brusk take no names personality
he never knew a stranger
then one day he stopped answering the door his phone emails
everything
I found out two weeks later he had met loud Sarah Rubricon
her of the store bought **** and long *** legs
and they had eloped to Vegas
where they are now performing
at Little Ceasar's Pizzeria
just down from the
big names
I am happy for them and Sarah
by god happy she met her match
she haunted me for two years
but I miss that Joseph
when I throw a party , it is not the same
anymore.
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 11:13 PM UTC
(Yet another re-write)
....
Of crocodiles
And betrayal,
Boudica's clad
In chain mail,
Cleopatra
Uncorks
Another bottle,
Scythed-wheeled chariots
Going full throttle.
In gems and jewels
And golden bangles;
Crowns tilted
At jaunty angles.
Telling
Tales of lovers
And kingdoms lost,
And of
The clever men
They'd double-crossed
With ruby lips,
A breath of silk
And pert ******* bathed
In ***** milk,
Until the asp
And an axe
At a slender throat,
Then a sarcophagus
And
A wolfskin coat.
The Iceni queen
And Ptolemy's wife -
Whispering Sappho
In the
After-life;
Where they get
The giggles
About what happened
To Ceasar
And swap some bits of gossip
About
The Queen Of Sheba.
Apr 2, 2025
Apr 2, 2025 at 3:07 PM UTC