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Classy J Jun 2015
Video games
Smash, slash, and if you're a noob you spam. Video Games the most interactive experience ever, it brings out the best and worst out of all of us. Combos and controls to study, instead of trying to study for an upcoming test. Some people say video games turns your brain into mush, but studies show that video games actually help people in the real world. Oh how I love video games they let me experience things outside can't, and even though movie versions of games aren't that good, I never usually get disappointed with sequels. Video games create more than fun times, they have also helped create my identity. So thank you video games for making me who I am.
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2013
Nothing is so healing as the human touch.
"Nothing is so healing as the human touch."


Started:    June 21, 2011
Finished:  August 14, 2011

"Nothing is so healing as the human touch."

Purportedly, the final words of Bobby Fischer, the reclusive, oft bizarre-acting Chess Grandmaster, whose life deserves your examination.  

I wasted decades of my life in a loveless, sexless, miserable marriage. I read his dying words, and the poem~notion was born, but the words had their own timetable and it made me crazy.

All the facts you need to read this old poem are now in your possession.
~-----------------------------------------------~
Mos­t poems used to just tumble out,
Sudoku words combos,
Gunslinger I was,
poetically licensed to shoot
from the hip (the lip?).

Then you go mute, until that second,
When once again,
machine gun stanzas fall like
Cheerios
spilling all over the kitchen floor,
as they always do at Two Am
when quietude is in high season,
And the whole house is sleeping.

Once in awhile,
the title~idea recorded,
but the poem unwrit,
just won't come.
*** but no ******.

The words smack you,
write me, I deserve it,
a challenged duel glove
goes kissy kissy on your face,
but the words,
the choice of weapons
eludes for weeks, months.  

So Bobby,
your challenge
long ago accepted,
but my reply imperfect,
has lain bound and gagged,
a poem-in-progress
hid in the trunk of my heart,
unable to escape, even when
escape attempted, unsuccessful.

From June till August moon,
your dying words have been
a cancer growing, within,  
hiding from my bullets
invented to radiate,
your final words, explicate,
Explode and expose.

Your life,
an essay on life in solitary,
anti-social would immodestly describe your life best.

How came you then to exclaim,
re the glories of human touch?

Ah a dying man's last regret,
a simple cri du couer,
nothing extraordinaire,
a basic 101 shoulda/woulda
of "I coulda done it better,"
what's the big deal?

Until this exact second,
Sunday rain jolted body from bed
do I instant understand my obsession,
the import to me,
the need to capture
the haunt of the healing
of your dying words.  

Life is small, miniaturized
when numbered in decades -
five, six, seven,
maybe,
eight nine or even ten.  

How came I to pass so many,
discarded whole decades,
of the few we garner
without the sustenance of
Human Touch?

How came I to allow this
disaster to pass?

How did I advance to the next grade/decade
when a failing grade was scarlet tattooed
In ****** scars upon my chest?

Would be easy to dismiss
as just another
whiney rant
that is no longer relevant
to you,
lies I told myself,
no longer resonate,
over, now.

Never.  

Everything matters.  

Summation.  Accumulation.

Day Counter Totals
reveal gaps of years
that cannot be refilled
so your accounting
must include a retelling of the
wasted days and acknowledge
with your dying breath,

Nothing is so healing
as the human touch.

Thank you my love.
Thank you, Mr. Fischer.
Summer
2011
#lipstadt #human #touch #bobby #fischer #healing
Continue reading...
James Bradley McCallum Apr 2014
4. SCP: Funky Broadway WIP ( Rubin Hurricane Carter Fragment)
We pass the
walled incline
of Barbour Park

during the day
a foreboding
patch…an open
air market for
the slave merchants
hustling crack and
**** drippin ****
that's been stepped
on so many times
its a wonder the cut
can still chide a high
out of a wrangled soul

the park’s
modest elevation
is an advantageous
lookout for
runners dealing
dimes while
petty ante
gangstas
daydream
gun blazing glories
of their next big job

not long ago
the park was
refurbed with
an industrial
strength plastic
Jungle Jim,
soon after
the park was
condemned
as a no go
zone for kids,
the litter of
hypodermic
needles and
mounds of
lead spiked
soil, deemed
a public health
risk for youth...
quickly
repurposed
as a crib
for ballers…

back in the
day, the shady
pocket park
lifted Paterson’s
citizenry off
the heated
pavements of
a bustling
thoroughfare

a respite from
the pulsing
tensions of urbanity,
a secular sanctuary,
balancing the urgent
industry of commerce
with the propriety of
residential life

compacting a
brief escape
from the clanging
metronome with
a viewing stand
offering elevation...
a heightened
perspective on
life’s parade
marching
up and down
Broadway…

this urban
oasis planted
at the center
of Silk City’s
grandiloquent
boulevard,
occupies
the most
democratic
equidistant
transit point
between opulent
Eastside mansions
of livin large tycoons
at one end….
and the
industrial district of
The Great Falls,
rising at Broadway’s
western terminus,
assiduously
manufacturing
dollars for the darlings
of fortune and
subsistence for
workers yearning to taste
the crumbs of
prosperity that may fall
from the tables of
opportunity

the park once a
pleasant face of
the landlocked
4th Ward filled
with homage to
a nation's greatest
citizens, Hamilton,
Rosa Parks,
Lafayette,
Madison, Fulton,
Montgomery and
Franklin has
denounced the
virtuous pursuit of
their aspirational
yearnings

now playas
feast on
the mead
of sustenance
harvested from
emaciated streets

commerce has taken
up full residency...
the wards cottage industry
cannibalizing
homes, hoods and
homeboys

as the
4th Ward
grows ugly,
the healthy
matrix of
bustling
street life
breaks down
the peeps
weakened
lay prostate
offer veins
to blood *******
predators
roaming
distressed
going south
neighborhoods

wise guy
knuckleheads,
get busy
gaming
the system
short changing
themselves and
hustling game
to get by
in the sweet bye
and buy of life

at night
a back lit
Barbour Park
floods with the
yellow haze of
blinking Fair St.
lamp posts
and the pulsing
halations
crowning the
Baptist's
of St. Luke's

sentient figures
shift between
park benches
flitting among the
black torsos
of skeletal trees
blending into
the faded
complexion
of abandoned
swing sets

I swear I see
Hurricane Carter
shadow boxing
dancing
around a gangling
Elm, jabbing
away, lifting
a sweet uppercut
working combos
of left hooks
and right crosses
hoping to drop an
intractable
presence
banging away
at a body politic
forming the walls
of taunting
inequities

Hurricane stays
busy delivering
body blows
to burst
through the
prison bars
surrounding
Barbour Park

Music selection:
Bob Dylan, Hurricane

Paterson
01/30/13
jbm

A fragment from extended poem Silk City PIT.  
Published today to honor the death of Rubin Hurricane Carter.
May he find the freedom in eternal rest that eluded him during his lifetime.
A fragment from extended poem Silk City PIT.  (Part 4: Funky Broadway)
Published today to honor the death of Rubin Hurricane Carter.
May he find the freedom in eternal rest that eluded him during his lifetime.
#city #cities #hurricane #silk #pit #paterson #nj #rubin #carter
Continue reading...
Sam Stone Grenier May 2019
only DISTINCTIVE DAZZLING light
MEMORIES THAT I am hopelessly in love with you and I Order Early and LAST A LIFETIME COLORFUL MEMORIES Save 10%! You want to be that special someone with whom you save $90.00 when you order the complete KC - 1735 you are hopelessly in love with. I want This tropical glittery acrylic frame to be the best friend for you. displays The kind of friend  a 5” x 7” photo whom you could hug tight in your arms. Choose From the one you’d like to cuddle with in your bed 5 Elegant Charms I want SATISFACTION you GUARANTEED! to let me in a private world that is only yours ONE MORE NIGHT CHARMING VALUE Priced Favors FRAMES WAYS WE SAVE MINT MEMENTOS Show me YOUR the deepest and most secret NIGHT thoughts YOU MORE MONEY which you keep trapped in your head. IN THE FREE FANCIFUL FLUTES I promise to be the SPOTLIGHT SAMPLES HIS & HER COMBOS SATISFACTION Get the kind of friend who will cherish the memories of all the perfect things you say his and her favor combos and the shape of your lips and save up to 10%! DISPLAY GUARANTEED! SAVE 10% ON FAVOR COMBOS YOUR TIMELESS CHARMING FREE STARRY MEMORIES when you tell them. MEMORIES KEY TAGS SAMPLES NIGHTS I am eager to discover FREE NEW! SET THE SCENE So many options for every inch of your body, SAMPLES one sensational glass! Our gorgeous FRAMES TO MATCH every AMAZING curve and every freckle. SAVOR SWIRL GLASSES YOUR THEME VALUES PRECIOUS I want to know where to add pizzazz to my MEMORIES any event! MEMORABLE FREE BRILLIANT GLASSWARE MOMENTS SAMPLES TWO SIMPLY touch you ELEGANT FABULOUS FREE FAVORS GLAMOROUS  I want to know how All your friends can touch you. SAMPLES AT ONE LOW PRICE GLASSWARE autograph your frame! SELECT THE PERFECT ITEM I want to see your LOWEST PRICE VALUE Tote bags are your smile that is the perfect way SOPHISTICATED GUARANTEED! PRICED FAVORS to present your prom guests GLASSWARE with their favors designed just for me. CLASSIC Yes MEMORIES OF 2009 KEY TAGS FAVORS Create A LIGHT UP PICTURE I do want to be that Glitter Playlist kind of friend And TAKE  the best one in the YOUR YOUR entire PERFECT world. Travel Give All The FAVORS If my love were an ocean PARTY SAVE 10% Mugs Guests A CD! HOME IN there would be no more land on favors STYLE If my love were A NIGHT IN THE STARS ONE FOR HIM, ONE FOR a desert REMEMBER HER you would see only THIS FREE LIGHT UP sand If YOUR NIGHT my NIGHT love were FOREVER a star - SAMPLES Candles late at night add a special flair. only DISTINCTIVE  DAZZLING light. And DRINKWARE FRAMES Go on-line to see these favors come to life! CARRY THE SPARKLING MEMORIES WITH YOU ROMANCE IN THE AIR if my LOWEST love PRICE could grow wings, I’d be BPA SELECT THE PERFECT IMAGE STUNNING KEY TAGS soaring in flight. I’m madly GUARANTEED! FREE PERSONALIZE deeply WITH YOUR IMPRINT FANTASTIC FAVORS truly DESIGN YOUR in love FAVORS with you. KEEP YOUR MEMORIES CLOSE And I am not one of those people who deny Stylish Travel Mugs give your The REMEMBER THE MOMENT I BELIEVE guests a favor to keep themselves on the Hottest New GLITTERING STUNNING simple pleasure of telling truth using after the magical night. New Lower DAZZLING GLASSWARE GLASSWARE SAVE 10% I’m in love with your Prom Prices and care BALLOONS ON FAVORS I don’t favor if we are all doomed or if there will be a day when everything we say or do has been turned into dust.
HOW TO RE-CREATE THIS POEM
·Cut out large sections of a magazine that sells prom favors
·Find a website that contains samples of love letters and love poetry
·Print one page of that website out and cut out large sections of the page
·Put all cut out contents into a mixing bowl
·Dump the contents onto the floor
·Transcribe what you see as you see it
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2023
I am a Taken Poet ~ “The Wreckage of Your Silent Reverie”
I am a Taken Poet ~ “The Wreckage of Your Silent Reverie”^

<6:45 AM Sat June 3>

again and again, a peculiar lyric
more than provokes, ******, injects,
no mere head buzzing, sledgehammer
beheaded, no under skin, in my pores,
shedding,reabsorbed, replaying the replay,
until I, will-less, commanded endlessly,
induced, besplay my irritants into my
“take,” for I am an overtaken poet, searching relief

too well, the wreckage refuse of these
silent reveries consume us, and I shriek,
contemplating the years of holey falling,
not hours or days, not weeks or months,
spent in rigorous dreams, facing & escaping,
my guilts, my fork failures, bottling & pouring,
with no relief from screams, head-banging,
nightmare visitations and inarticulate moans

until they form words, projectile ejected,
pollutants upon a clean, white background,
and dispatched to the heavens or nether land,
and to you, here in poem form that brings but a
modicum crumb of relief that empties, buying
time, knowing full well, my cup runneth over and
fresh replacement troops are eager, readily available,
by joining the seesaw border war, splitting my halves

my halves for I am not whole, I am deboned,
and slices fall off of these trough of words,
these statements of fact & fission, uninformed forms,
even worse, formed formlessness reciting repetitive,
inescapable  escapades, dead-ended hell highways,
these poems, all carcasses of me, roadside ****, until,
someone unseen, unknown invisible, removes them
to the largest refuse pile in world, a inutile poem heap

even this epistolary of diary entries offered down for
your bemusement, my expulsionary relief, give but
the briefest analgesic, and a newest version of an oldest
reverie, old friend, comes like the unending beeping,
of a dying battery of a fire alarm, squeaking, unrelenting,
unresponsive to curses or begging till the last ounce
of its energy is consumed, so too I, impatient squeak words,
too many contemptuously familiar yet well hid in new combos,

temporarily pulled from the wreckage of my silent reverie


~~~~~~~~~~~~<7:45 AM>~~~~~~~~~~~~

^ “Oh this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees
In the arms of the angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here”

Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Sarah Mclachlan
gray overcast chilly Saturday morn,
listening to the chirping of a dying battery,
reminding me of my mortality and
my other stuff.
#i #taken #poet #wreckage #silent #reverie #lipstadt
Continue reading...
Where Shelter Jul 2023
The Mendacity of Beauty, Marvels of the Mundane
The Mendacity of Beauty,  Marvels of the Mundane


<1/1/2023 10:38 PM>

commissioned by Pradip^
          <>


A special carnet permits the day,
though day itself unremarkable,
permissioning of a thousand,
even, tens of ten thousand
grasping new love poems

all mundane, all marvelous

an aborning of odes re the
vastness of sea, sandy sky,
multifarious penumbras of hewn hues,
vibrantly diverse, still, requiring the
expanse and pretense of “new”
adjectives and metaphoric
in combos recalculating

precisely, it’s the enormity,

of the difficulty of verbal capture
upon tablet of these natural treasures,
once, more, yet again, but in somehow in a new-never
quite-before conceptional~postulation-realization

I sojourn amidst both man made and natural beauty,
provoking, invoking, a steady stream of potable knowledgeables, performing as a hand-written-thank-you-note for the grace, the imagination of their mishmash existences addressed only to

“whom it may truly concern…”

I’m eager to confess that the poetry inherent in the
mundane, requiring not-so-easy mining, a sales taxing
innovation to capture the subtlety of less visible flecks of gold, that present a rarer challenge to the poet’s senses where glory abides in pyrite pebbles strewn and trod upon by most indifferently,

ah, write of the marvel of the mundane,
**** dare you!

<>

^Pradip: “writing of the mundane is mandatory for me…”
Aug 12 2022
#pradip #whereshelter #mundane #marvel
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2013
The Art of Bed Making
The Art of Bed Making*

Write they say, about what you know best,
Surely in the diurnal motions,
The arc of daily commotion,
Do we not all excel?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First lets establish the fact
That
I hate making beds just as much as any man.
As chores go, it is the bottom of the
Totem Pole.

But having, unasked, once done the deed,
To surprise. And. To.  Please.
(What fools men are...)
The pleasure seen upon her face,
For my pillow^ skills and arrangements,
simply extraordinaire,
I have been incredibly guilted,
Without the opposing party saying but two words
(Oh my)
into
doing my share.

With pride of craft,
Then herein I reveal the methodology
For its art, it's poetry,
Line and stanza, meter and rhyme,
The Art of Bed Making,
If properly conducted.

First remove all signs of history,
Single socks, and itinerant underwear,
If you get queasy, get the hell out of here,
It takes a real man to make a quality bed.

With hands two, brush all and any crumbs
Onto the floor
Where they belong
And for which cleaning up ain't my job.

Then straighten the sheets,
After checking for fond memories,
i.e. wet spots, stains of glory, some old n' hoary,
And using the natometer,
Ascertain if they can make it one more day.
(Strange how they almost always can!)*

Next, the coverlet.
Different schools of thought have discoursed,
Whether t'is best from the bottom or the top
To commence.

Me, I am, a top man,
As in most things,
I like to work my way down,
Nice and slow.

Extend one arm fully,
With broad, gracious strokes,
De-wrinkle the top,
Sending the waves and bumps over the side,
To their special hell.

This step most crucial,
For if the prior steps done in manner superficial,
This will mask you "inner" laziness well.

Pillows.

First sniff.
Determine which is yours, and which is hers, then
Render unto Caesar
The right pillow or accept the consequences dire.

Trust me,
She says she loves
Your manly odors,
But give her the wrong pillow,
And you may be a victim of a Pearl Harbor
Sneaky Pillow Attack...

Just as you are falling asleep.
And you are at your most defenseless...
"Hers" yanked from under your head.

If your woman is genuine,
She can't have enough decorative touches,
Like 6 or 8 pillows in a la carte shapes,
Which must be presented,
Ach Zo!

But here I rebel, my artistic manly resistances
Flare,
Makes me find new combos,
To which she says, delightedly,
Oh my!

Many details I have skipped,
For your safety's sake,
For if you master bed making,
Do not be surprised,
If many wet spots and stains will follow,
Making fresh sheets,
A daily necessity.

****.
^ see
Nat Lipstadt · Jun 29
just like a woman

True story: about three hours after returning,
She comes up behind me on the couch and says,
"I have something to tell you."

I reply, without turning around, in a haphazard, almost bored manner say:
"You love the way I make the bed."

She just walks away shaking her head in quiet stupefaction and amazement.

Women, so easy to read...
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2015
Happy Hanukkah Brother Nat!
~~~

Happy Hanukkah Brother Nat!

~~~


this poem is not for young lovers,
seasoned soldiers of the heartfelt only need apply,
give me my merry mercy-naries to save me
from criminal holiday insouciance,
shoot me with the rounds of caring,
that come so fast
and last as long as I can
nod and wink...

~~~

used to drink inspiration
from Manhattan sidewalk rain riveted cracks,
turn half overheard street conversation snatches
into half decent poems by Nat(chez),
professors turning phrases, upbringing a brain ratcheting,
choreographers, dancing in body and spirit and word,
in summation, a thief of opportunity...

these days, the pattern prevailing,
the El Niño de Natalino,
is drawing up works
from the wealth of messages and comments,
my troubadours, my y'all youse guys, share,
so as I compose,
not knowing where this goes,
I'm just simple knowing,
that a heartfelt reach out,
addressed as
Happy Hanukkah Brother Nat!
deserves the recognition of its sweet intent,
in a lyric all its own,
like a traditional festival
Hanukkah ******* (true1)

t'is the seasonal affectation of salutations
all commencing with happy,
never struck me as anything deeper
than surficial superficial,
but this time its textual emendation -
the inclusion of genuine brotherly love,
loops, Humpty Dumpty cracks and swoops,
and here I am fastening word combos,
when the clickty clack of the clock
says uh-uh, poem in the making,
natural verbal child birthing, sleep hours docked,
and here I am,
begetting instead of shushing
a day-older brain to get-thee-to-a-hideaway...

this poem is not for young lovers,
seasoned soldiers of the heartfelt only need apply,
give me my mercy-naries to save me
from criminal holiday insouciance,
shoot me with the rounds of caring,
that come so fast
and last as long as I can
nod and wink...

sooner than later it will be the Fourth,
and in my eyes a day-deserving of a fireworks spectacular,
though the month matters not,
the sentiments of brotherhood and live love,
independent and freely given,
deserves enhanced ignition recognition
and herein  supplied...

you had me at the greeting so fleeting,
then ask my advice,
is there to be had a greater compliment,
so my mien and demeanor are now modified

an oath sworn, till the infamous 31st,
every passerby and child
will be bequeathed a shockingly rowdy,
Happy and Merry,
sincerity coated
and tinged with you know what...

~~~
Dec. 3, 2015
nyc
11:12 pm
true 1
http://www.marthastewart.com/314744/hanukkah-sufganiyot-jelly-doughnuts

for one and for all my
y'all youse guys
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2014
Nothing is so healing as the human touch.
"Nothing is so healing as the human touch."


Started:    June 21, 2011
Finished:  August 14, 2011

"Nothing is so healing as the human touch."

Purportedly, the final words of Bobby Fischer, the reclusive, oft bizarre-acting Chess Grandmaster, whose life deserves your examination.  

I wasted decades of my life in a loveless, sexless, miserable marriage. I read his dying words, and the poem~notion was born, but the words had their own timetable and it made me crazy.

All the facts you need to read this old poem are now in your possession.
~-----------------------------------------------~
Mos­­t poems used to just tumble out,
Sudoku words combos,
Gunslinger I was,
poetically licensed to shoot
from the hip (the lip?).

Then you go mute, until that second,
When once again,
Machine gun stanzas fall like
Cheerios
Spilling all over the kitchen floor,
As they always do at Two Am
When quietude is in high season,
And the whole house is sleeping.

Once in awhile,
The title~idea recorded,
But the poem unwrit,
just won't come.
*** but no ******.

The words smack you,
Write me, I deserve it,
A challenged duel glove
Goes kissy kissy on your face,
But the words,
The choice of weapons
Eludes for weeks, months.  

So Bobby,
Your challenge
Long ago accepted,
But my reply imperfect,
Has lain bound and gagged,
A poem-in-progress
Hid in the trunk of my heart,
Unable to escape, even when
Escape attempted, unsuccessful.

From June till August moon,
Your dying words have been
A cancer growing, within,  
Hiding from my bullets
Invented to radiate,
Your final words, explicate,
Explode and expose.

Your life,
An essay on life in solitary,
Anti-social would immodestly describe your life best.

How came you then to exclaim,
Re the glories of human touch?

Ah a dying man's last regret,
A simple cri du couer,
Nothing extraordinaire,
A basic 101 shoulda/woulda
Of "I coulda done it better,"
What's the big deal?

Until this exact second,
Sunday rain jolted body from bed
Do I instant understand my obsession,
The import to me,
The need to capture
The haunt of the healing
Of your dying words.  

Life is small, miniaturized
When numbered in decades -
Five, six, seven,
Maybe,
Eight nine or even ten.  

How came I to pass so many,
Discarded whole decades,
Of the few we garner
Without the sustenance of
Human Touch?

How came I to allow this disaster to pass?

How did I advance to the next grade/decade,
When a failing grade was scarlet tattooed
In ****** scars upon my chest?

Would be easy to dismiss as just another whiney rant
That is no longer relevant to you,
Lies I told myself, no longer resonate, over, now.

Never.  

Everything matters.  

Summation.  Accumulation.

Day Counter Totals  reveal gaps of years
That cannot be refilled so your accounting
Must include a retelling of the
Wasted days and acknowledge with your dying breath,

Nothing is so healing as the human touch.
~~~~~~~
Happy 3rd Birthday poem.
Thank you my love
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2023
Hey Yalie, Diurnal Rituals Yield the Best Poetry
Hey Yalie, Diurnal Rituals Yield the Best Poetry

A Yalie jogs before dawn, her senses being exercised,
semi-aware there’s layered poetry out there and it must
be retrieved, for the eyes observe the diurnal arousing of the day,
and this too, must be recorded, part of the ordered duties of living, as the skin cells shed sweat droplets and
words of living, parcels of breathing, a diary of notations,
to educate the brain in ways and things that
professors cannot teach…

every sense operative, interactive, sound off neurotic synapses,
are acrackling, as you lay out the day ahead, calendar and
assignment checks, but the senses don’t care
about that
trivial minutiae of living

nope
the words are now coming fast and you hope your best that
you will retain, retrain the memory to savor save, those
combos of images encapsulated in new word combinations,
that are yours alone, unique, proving to no one but
yourself, that education, science et. al. is a seeded embryo &
you the valedictorian of birth commencement ceremony

so put them trainers on,
and by dawning daylight you are awondering,
now becoming a pondering, and the
question never spoke aloud but oft posed,
is this, this is,
this is why I exist,
and
my identity?

I am an institution in my own right,
in my own write.

Saturday Nov 4
8:01am
nyc
#yalie #lipstadt
Continue reading...
Josh Morter Mar 2015
Reassemble
Basically I'm broken, shattered, pulled apart and torn to pieces, shards of sharp shimmering glass amass into a clump of crunching sounds. Crush. crack. Crunch and crumble.

My whole innards begin to tumble, whirr around like clothes in a dryer. Pockets not  checked, so their contents are set. Set to begin a cycle of being flung from side to side, swishing around, drowning in a swirl of cleanliness which should of course, ease the pain and wash away those steeped in stains and cleanse a spirit that's been pulled apart. Like a cotton thread. Slowly being pulled away from a wooley jumper as its caught.

Okay, it's caught on a zipper. from an old pair of jeans. Whose paths have crossed many times in outfit combos but now tumbling around together they no longer meld, together. They clash like; tartan and polka dots and conflict each others path to rightful cleanliness.

Basically I'm broken, shattered, pulled apart and torn to pieces, shards of sharp shimmering glass amass into a clump of crunching sounds. Crush. crack. Crunch and crumble

Alas, the thread is now long and wearing thin. It has lost its shape and would have to begin again. Once aired out to dry its a mound of mess, a cotton bundle looking all distressed. It tried its hardest to fight the emotion, the tug, of its strings to maintain its strength; but bowed down to defeat when knowing full well that it was beat. How could it now go on in life when it's torn. Torn to pieces and now ceases to exist in a form that would generally state: It! Exists!
Exists as a life form and a living part, how can things continue to breathe without a beating heart.

Thump thump, beat beat, thud thud. It starts. Thump thump, beat beat, thud thud. My heart.

Trying to mend the cracks with this battered *****. Mangled with regret and forlorn with spite, how can this reassess itself until it is right.

Thump thump, beat beat, thud thud. It starts. Thump thump, beat beat, thud thud. My heart.

It takes time to mend a broken ticker. Time passes by and memories become bitter, tainted with a brush that's tarred, marred with the longing for those moments to still occur. Not for your mind to now blur.
Blur those memories you once held so dear, remembered with a chuckle or a wry little smile. How can you comprehend these again for a while?!

You can't.
You shouldn't.
You couldn't.
So don't.

Thump thump. Beat beat, thud thud. It starts. Thump thump, beat beat. Thud thud. My heart.
broken, shattered, pulled apart and torn to pieces, shards of sharp shimmering glass amass into a clump of crunching sounds.
Crush.
crack.
Crunch.
Reassemble
This is my newest poem first in fair amount of time.
Decided to take a bit more of a spoken word vibe with this one. Still unsure of the titl. And whether it runs linear enough through the middle... Any advice or criticism welcome.
#love #broken #heart #happiness #health #clothes #spokenword
Continue reading...
Raina Louis Jun 2013
Walls
He tried to dig wells inside of me
With one of those spoon-fork-knife
All-inclusive combos.
Silly little things, and made of plastic too!
As if my walls were made of that pudding stuff.
Waste of injury! Foolish boy!
I should be outraged at the insult,
I should cry at his naiveté,
Spit on his back’s bending,
Curse his sweat’s rewarding the work.
But I cradle him close, let him dig softly, grip softly  
Lest he break his tools
Lest he break this rhythm
I cradle him close and let concrete lap sweetly at his sweat.
And when we are this close, my fingers always dig sweetly into his back.
Continue reading...
OnwardFlame Apr 2016
His Mama Told Me Once: He Really Wanted Me To Be "The One"
Was doin' so well, so strong
What does the word strong even really mean
Bows and arrows on my back
A moon stamped forever whenever people ask
I say for my Philadelphia women.

Swan legs
Today it did hit me like an avalanche
And somehow in the last few hours
As I perused and watched over the art
That I've made with my bare hands
I realized it all makes sense.

I know you are angry
And secretly very sad
The women around me judge your madness
Your own best friends tell me I'm better off
I was feeling so resilient, so brave
And something today
Perhaps carried over from Friday night
When I tried to reach you
And realized I no longer could
So I slept in all my paint.

Theres no man to take the shoes off my weary feet
At this singular moment
I don't have a love to be frustrated with for his attitude
But I cooked myself a real nice dinner
Gabbing and venting on the phone
I go to bed alone.

I stayed up late tonight
To get it all done.
And it makes me think back to how impatient you would become
One time, only once
After we were all over
If only for that fleeting moment did we act like
We
"Obviously loved each other"
Note: e-d
LovED
LovED
Past tense.
I reread it and read it
I felt the ****** urge to cry
But the well up inside me
Could only let out a whiff or weeze or two.
I try to think of quotes now or poetic words
To tagline my movie that so clearly is gutted with us
But really,
Not really.

I see now in my minds eye
Yes, you absolutely did me wrong
My mother becomes heated and repeated
On the phone as I travel underground
I look around at my colorful life
Filled with spontaneity, holy hell so much newness
I'm starting to really settle settle in here
And not in that gross comfortable way
Everyone is right
You were just a harmful distraction.

But the feelings and reality now
Is that I must face that you have so hastily moved on
Slapped a sandwich with too much mayo
And forgotten your lettuce
But I'll always be a spinach girl.

Sour gummy worms
Combos cheddar cheese
Lime lemon gatorade
Ninja Turtles
Marty McFly
Your very favorite things.

Thats all I can think of.
I fell asleep last night thinking
How we watched Candy
And then we too,
Disintegrated.

I wish I could say that I hope you are happy
But I feel mostly regret, sadness, anger
The utmost betrayal
And it makes me think and ponder
How easy it is to get caught up
In all of those very words
In all of those very feelings
And it reminds me of being a 14 year old girl
Locking myself in my bathroom
Wanting my life to end
Because the first love of my life
Had seemed to have completely disappeared.

I don't know what any of it means
You made the comment once that my poems
Were getting longer
This one may be the longest in quite some time.

And it feels so good to write
It feels so good to visually create the words
I hear all day long in my head
But most of the time I don't even write
All the phrases and voices
Poetic intricacies
Down.

Periwinkle sweatshirt
******* how it hurt
I think back to the moments you really fawned over me
Crazy colorful hair
Or the night I danced at the Gentleman's Club
Tacky?
Tacky.

So I guess this new woman sleeps in your bed
Probably every other night
You stay at her place
I am sure you create dividing lines
Of you and her
Her and you
Perhaps she keeps her mouth shut
I heard she was nothin' special
A vape model
I don't even know what that means.

Remember when
You claimed I would someday be your wife?

Good riddance
Everyone close to me in my life hates you.
Its really quite a shame
I don't know what the future holds
But you don't even want to be friends
But its a retort, a threat
Filled with too much ***** and immaturity
Or all of the post it notes you never wrote me
I remembered dumping out the bottle of red wine today
And felt so glad, so glad
I followed my gut instinct
To pour your remains into
The drain
God bless. God bless.
I say in my most southern way.
I'll look back at this and laugh very soon
As times right this moment definitely border
The most difficult in my womanhood
Everything use to be
Everything just is
So big, so loud, so complex
So full

And sometimes I just don't want to leave the safety of my room.
But tomorrow is a new day
I'll pray to the moon, the stars
I'm so glad you aren't meant to be my sun king
But good try, good try
We can all laugh like bobble heads on fire
You couldn't keep up.
I was told today
And thats okay
Because I know you grip and sweat spite

Because I'll always be
Not just "The One"
Or the woman who told you not to call me "girl"
"Beautiful girl"
Or all of the phrases you so clearly
Recycled and used to swoon before
But I'll just be and always remain
A beautiful, biggest romantic love of your life
Literal ink stain

The swan that got away.
(And she freed herself into the ocean.)
Continue reading...
Colin E Havard Mar 2014
For the Woman I Love, regardless...(Alt. First Love...Death by 1000 near misses)
Live your Life as you wish -->
Don't blame me!
Blame the *****!
She's the One that yeah's and neigh's,
Selects the combos, gamete-style;
Foresees the potentiality
Of a Universe before the making.

Her Will --> I'll execute!
Protect to incubate the great,
While looking after the lost -->
Those unlucky to be born normal;
Those strugglers battling idiocy
At all levels of authority.

I'll float freely betwixt strata -
Popping in and out of existence
As necessary; as needs dictate;
As She dictates (- the subtle cow).
I'll plod along, head in the sand,
Trying to figure out the sound;
Stringing along and strung out,
Helping myself and lending a hand.

And when I meet Her...if I do...
I'll tell Her you send Your Regards.
5/3/2014
A Western Tiger in an Ancient Cradle
Continue reading...
Dana E Mar 2015
run if you want to.
I don't get you
It's been said.
(By you.)
Your music poem heroic myth combos;
I don't got 'em in me according to you so ****

Pride is what I've got as far as:
Loving you, possessing you, longing you forever and ever and always
Faithing this: I get you and no one else can ever more, just me.

Me wrong: ha!
But apparently maybe
So call me
Or don't cause we sleep together;
no call needed bby

Speak instead so
I can scratch your dreams;
I'mma ******* Count of Monte Cristo type here,
All useless revenge
Offensive retreats I pretend are defense;
therefore, QED legitimate.

A chess player bluff but no
I'm not actually that fancy
I don't fence cause my wrist is ******
don’t play chess because it will not be just any another opponent, it will be my Papa, teaching me the best ways to beat him, in the end.
don’t conjugate Latin anymore,
(she died, the woman who whispered there is a way out of radical christianity and heterosexuality but more importantly taught Latin precisely, inspiring.)
I cheated on the last test anyway so **** that fake fact.

So I just been hoarding meanness
up down,
Left and right, inside out

(In other words: ******)

Sorrow isn't a thing we people make up but we sure spend a lot of time manufacturing it for each other it seems like, and I don't want to be good at doing this.

It doesn't make me tough
Or better
Or mas yours
Or honest or what I'm afraid you think I am:

A wilted desert thing
Secreting thorns first
Exploding them out in every direction
Unpredictably
Unblooming into a prickled seeding creature
nonetheless virile vibrant,
Hungering but not starved

Like home this summer,
The summer you wouldn't believe
If I told you how green it all was down I-25;
(ours and also you and Maria's but we count more than you and she cause she doesn't glow anymore who knows why I wish she would because she is the best poetry you have let out so far just opinion here.)

But so.
Unbelievable.
Like a desert dreamt itself into meadows and unknown greens that you know better words for than I do.

You missed this.

You hate missing things
Pretend they were never there.

You just want to turn longing into creation,
So you're the best at survival
And transforming and I don't want to just wilt out on you, I want to become a cactus that can be anywhere and all where
But I won’t pretend it wasn’t real because I was there and Santa Fe broke my heart and you can  forget all you want but that is fact and nothing changes it even though I can bear it, bore it all summer, and then broke a bunch of your bundles of trust this fall and now you can have reasons for what I've done wrong and I wont argue against the facts.

But I am not incapable or lazy or insane or crazy. I do not need men to tell me I'm bad with money when the only times I am is when I am wrapped into their lives. I do not need to be mistrusted when I know what I know and have done what I have done and do not try to reconcile the two.

Reconciliation? Personal analysis? **** that. All I had to know is that here we wouldn't birth fights about who did what wrong, and that I, I am not alone in this world.

P.S. Why am I the one left to keep us safe if you don't trust me enough to believe me when I say your child could be mine one day and I, I would not keep silent watches, build walls with peepholes. Keep believing it, though. Cause I'm the only one in on the secret who hasn't feared for a child's life around you yet. and I'd bet you any amount that every single other person has had that moment of terror. So figure out who it is you want on your side, kid.
( Don't leave yourself alone in this world. )
Continue reading...
ABadPenname Sep 2015
Court
I am inspired.
In the court room; waiting,
Feeling Well Groomed.
   I am in a state of psychological superiority. Everybody look at me.
separation from all avenues,
Or at least the current case.
I match the formal dress criteria almost well enough to blend in
with the wolves.
No.
I am the wolf,
They are the pigs.
There are drawings all over my three piece suit.
   I am the Zen master in the waiting room.
I play fruit ninja. My slices are precise and direct. I go for combos, and
I let my posture decide its own careless angle.
I remain a casual-clay reduction of societal judgement. Am I it innately? Am I somehow powerful?
One girl is so nervous that her knees buckle in front of the blonde judge, who looks as if she used to be beautiful.
When she makes her plea, her voice trembles. If she were in front of a firing squad, I think,
Not even that could make her seem more fragile.
When I step up I smile.
I don't think I was supposed to smile.
Littering charge, minimum fine: $20
She charged me $70
I left feeling totally enlightened.
And just a little *******.
#justice #law #zen #court
Continue reading...
EssEss Oct 2023
Cadaques - Spain's quaint beach town
It takes considerable research to pick an ideal vacation spot,
The end result can be pleasantly surprising, more often than not,
Spain offers a multitude of choices that can be very exciting,
It is those small tucked-away towns that are the most enticing

Cadaques is a pretty Mediterranean location in Catalonia's Costa Brava,
It is a hippy seaside town akin to a hidden cove, that is no mere trivia,
Located on a small peninsula on the eastern side of sunny Spain,
It has all the trappings of an ideal getaway resort, with much to gain

It is the most inaccessible town north of Barcelona, though seductively beautiful,
The road winds through mountains replete with hairpin turns that are an eyeful,
Passing through cliffs one after the other, a rocky coastline is the final descent,
Entering the Spanish village with a breathtaking landscape, makes for rich accent

The idyllic setting, with unbeatable tourist infrastructure, is a veritable holiday haven,
For anyone looking to enjoy sun and sea, the attraction is like a piece of heaven,
The beach town gleaming above the cobalt-blue waters is a joyful sight to behold,
The allure of the windswept pebble beaches is so mesmerizing, if truth be told

The village is always teeming with tourists lazily walking the cobblestone streets,
The animated incessant Spanish chatter with exciting overtones is such an audible treat,
The blazing sun beating down all day from a spotlessly blue sky is never a deterrent,
To people of all ages sauntering the streets, joy writ on their faces, that is so apparent

Colorful sun umbrellas can be seen planted all along the beach, spicing up the milieu,
While the adventurous brave it out to get their suntan, unmindful of little else in view,
A dip in the clear blue water provides an exhilarating experience thro' the day,
The feeling is of total relaxation charting new frontiers, in a wholly different way

It goes without saying that Cadaques is a delightful town for the epicurious,
Restaurants abound in plenty, as they wow to whet the appetite of the curious,
Visitors flocking in droves at all times of the day, is such a common sight,
The menu dished out is of an irresistible variety - naturally, a gourmet's delight

Dozens of gelato shops can be seen virtually in every street,
The vast variety of flavors is mind boggling and an inviting treat,
Serpentine lines at each shop reflect the popularity of this delicacy,
Experimenting with combos is perhaps a fitting culminating fantasy

For strollers, the meandering lanes of Cadaques are an absolute delight,
The sloping by-lanes lined with shops on either side, are an interesting sight,
Skilled artisans flaunt their wares, with determined attempts to persist,
At the end of it all, the inclination to splurge, is undoubtedly difficult to resist

Spanish painter Salvadore Dali's house in Cadaques definitely merits an outing,
A walk around the house depicts his life in the village through his painting(s),
The scenic walk around the well-preserved grounds holds a lot of history,
That he was a tremendous inspiration to the locals, is of little mystery

Groups of people can always be seen walking from one end of the town to the other,
Animatedly chatting mundane and specifics that is delightfully difficult to decipher,
While the preponderance of Spanish locals is perceptible, global participation is nothing less,
It is this cosmopolitan aura that lends color to the charming town, stopping short of iconic-ness

The sound of lapping waves still rings in your ears long after you leave this quaint beach town,
You wish you could turn the clock back and dash back yet again as if making a U-turn,
It is this very quintessential charm that lures visitors to the hidden town with quiet coves,
Spread the message through word of mouth, that visiting such places merit many encores
#europe #cadaques #spain #holidays #vacation
Continue reading...
Kay P Feb 2014
Lies
I lie the way I play with hair
In silence, round and round
twisting this and that
following the same path
again and
again

Like the red of candy canes
unseen and seen
round and round
breath reeking of
red

I lie the way I tell stories
added up setting and characters
details and happenings
plot twists that end in
cliffhangers

I lie the way I put on clothing
layer by layer
switching colors and combos
until finally I end up
clothed

I lie the way I draw breath
in and out
in gasps and sighs
and stops
smiles, frowns
constant
February 16th, 2014
Continue reading...
Simon Woodstock Feb 2016
Unapologetic Novel entry No. 1
One week I last one week without smoking **** so I could get a new job. However when it was presented to me instead of turning down the ****, I reached for it like a baby does it's bottle. I was a depressed, jaded, ******* at the world overnight fast food employee. While I hated my job it had it's own set of perks since I was on the overnight shift I was able to smoke a stress filled cigarette inside of the store  as well as come up with insane combos of food for free. As much as I enjoyed those perks I had grown bored of the overnight life it had become easy to me and I was desperate for something new and to have nights off. I had applied at a nearby grocery store upon hearing the fact my job wanted to cut my hours drastically for switching to days. The grocery store did a mouth swab before hiring you hence the reason for me to stop smoking. Yet in that moment the **** within grasp it didn't seem to matter I had ways of cleaning out my system. The deed done I was dropped off at home, My body was on the ground but my head was dreaming and floating happily in the clouds.
I have written anything in a long time and I suddenly found inspiration
#unapologeticnovel
Continue reading...
Ben Dec 2016
Terminated
I knew there was
Trouble to be had
When they called me
Up to the executive
Floor and sat me down
At a mahogany table
Long enough to seat 12
Across from the
Stoic HR lady

We sat alone
Save the head of
My division
Who wore a thin
Line of a mouth and
A loud red vest and
Matching bowtie
He rested his bony elbows
On the table and said

"Too many mistakes
Have been made
We've decided to
Terminate your
Employment"

This came as somewhat
Of a shock to me
I didn't like my job
Few people do
They wouldn't pay
You if it was fun
But still
I showed up
On time
Greeted the customers
Counted the money
Locked the vault
Did what was expected of me
And did my best to
Exceed that

I guess those were all
Mistakes

"Ok"

I said
And the HR lady
Jammed a hammy
Opened hand into my
Face and I shook it
Numbly

I followed the flaming
Red vest down to the
Lobby where my
Staff watched me
Clean out my desk
Everyone had a
Strange sourness to
Their faces like they
Had smelled a **** that
Hinted at some deeper
Health issue

I turned my keys
And combos over
Told my staff to have
A nice weekend and
Walked out the front door

When I got home I
Stood in the hallway
Not sure of what to do
Next

My dad asked from
His office

"What are you doing
Home? "

"They fired me"

"Huh. Well, no worries
Everyone gets fired at
Some point"

I walked up to
My room and put
The box of
Coffee mugs
Hot Sauce
A Death Valley
Postcard from
My mom that I
Had taped on
My desk
Down on my
Bed

After two miserable
Years of my life
The only thing I had
Gotten from that place
Were a few coffee mugs
And a constant weight on
My chest

I sat down on the end of
My bed and felt that weight
Melt like warm butter
Off my chest
Down my legs
And disappear through
The cracks of my
Hardwood floor
#freeform
Continue reading...
Bloodline of King Yashayah Dec 2022
Godline
Check out my mind,
Beaming in the sunshine,
One time, one time,
Yo check the diamond bezel,
Kin to the devil's,
But at the same level,
Of God how odd,
Is that imagine black,
With no evil behind that,
Or brothers on corners with gats,
Yeah I'm sitting notorious,
Analyze the glorious,
And hoes that ignored us,
Made now, see the money serves us,
No need for payment plans,
When you got unlimited bands,
I stand at ease,
When mother nature takes a breeze,
Onto my skin,
Let me shell from within,
Heal within, the darkness casted in,
Yo I'm still grinning,
Everyday winning even though
We living, past the sinning,
Still got scars from Cain,
Now I'm onto Mary Jane's, yeah she
Still doing her thang,
The *** is fat, take a nice hit to her back,
Eases my mind,
Focus in on a grind,
See the angels walking the shadows,
I break barriers and plateaus,
Just to show,
The realness I flip, word to Fats Domino,
Laying keys on the piano,
So feel the tempo,
Fast to slow, ghetto rocks for you soul,
Mad man cycles,
Scripts like Aristotle, Glocks punching
Like Listons combos,
Expose foes,
Leave em in wet clothes, ya know
How it goes,
We aim for seven figures, don't think of me as a *****,
I'm feeling bigger,
Bigger than the rest, say it with my chest,
Carved out a lions heart,
Now we one, Mufusa son, watch for the wilder beast, capeech,
Word to B I G, propped on ya TV, ya can't avoid me, I'm up early,
As bacon and eggs,
I'll leave ya blood empty, drippin, like
That milk from Craig,
Watch what I seys, I speak wisdom and no need for a fez,
I got mathematics supreme, ****** fiend, purple dot third eye beams,
Though the streets is mean,
I'll still smile, before the ******'s intervene,
Watch for the inner scope,
Not speaking Mister Levine,
Continue reading...
kaycog Nov 2017
Who needs a love triangle when I have an octagon
Here we are, a new match
Going head to head
New opponent
Same arena
Fists long gone
The bruises stay
Knocked down in the second round
Sucker punched
Testing combos
Left hooked
In the chest
Oxygen deprived
Land another hit
Create the only stars I see
Men, they fall
Make contact
With the mat, maybe
Wrap my hands
And this story
Let's see how long I last
Continue reading...
Infamous one May 2021
K29
Working with Thai pad is a work out of its own. Taking punches and kicks being able to adapt and adjusted. Doing drills coming up with combos
Coaching and being coached helps put things into perspective. Building confidence being able to take what's taught apply and learn from it.
Doing some extra work is a rewarding feeling pushing the body past its limits. A good sore not over working but going through the motions.
Continue reading...
Dez Cruz May 2016
Man On A Mission
Man on a mission , tell them I'm going all the way and they think I'm kidding, you don't seem to understand I get lost in my art like a ring in grains of sand. I work and work till my legs are dead and I can't stand, I do everything so one day I'll become the man, you tell me it's not going anywhere and my family thinks the same  only thing that matters is that I know I can. I don't actually know where I'd be without it, I dedicate my self to it. **** it take it away, I'll find my own way I'll be a star ten years from today. Guaranteed I'll stay up hours combos and side steps I'll even bleed, work to prove myself like creed, put the grind on my back and carry it like ones trusty steed. Why can't you see, it's the love that I been searching for, when I walked into that door and saw that ring I knew it was something I was destined for. You're gonna sit here and tell me it's all a ******* lie when I know that I'll **** myself roll over and die come back resurrect just so I could get another try. Forget a family when you got yourself for support, blood thicker then water, it isn't so thick when they come up short. All the time I spent and all the time I poured to master my art, I'll struggle now and live the rest of my life as a champion surrounded by mansions
Continue reading...
Bloodline of King Yashayah May 2020
Freestyle Session #7
Man what's the deal coming thru shining grill
Mass appeal can you feel a gangsta oh so real
Poppin' thrills verge to **** don't test the souths will
Wrecking shop it don't stop far from a slop
Making bread is my butter spread
Haters utters stutters
Cuz I be smooth peanut butter what uh no other
Can step to the mic gotsta stay tight taking flight
All day all night flows gone bite critics gotta rewrite
Cuz I'm on a mission south side still hissin' ******'
Foes mad cuz they can't break the collision precision
Made by me flossing beats easily can ya see me
Shots like Biggie I'm getting jiggy keep blunts spliffy
Hold up never fold up gotta keep lean in the cup
Sugar daddy the girls call me a clone of F-A-T
P-A-T freestyle we gotta go wild never smile
Problem child see me cruising past a thousand miles
That boy Yosef can't be touched cobra clutch
Give up the real candy coated woodgrain and steel
Feel the Texas rattle snake all the fakes pump brakes
See the rims of the fours poking rims smoking
Mad fire like when I'm blazing cherry marries higher
Than the divine rewind my lines gotta incline
Gotta come through still jamming ***** blues
Don't be on the early news Mayne we done paid our dues
Leaning on a switch can't stand a ***** who glitch
Off the scene we all about making green fiend
For the mic like rakim shake em up like hakeem
Dream.at the highest mountain found the fountain
Wonders of youth treasures spitting over the booth
Ageless man feeling cageless with the lions chest
Heart the rest keep the ak with a moon crest
Manifest o yes I'm flexing the best off the knot
Texas still making it hot flows stirring up the pots
Mayne it don't stop we gotta keep.shining
Blinding for those under-minding end up underlining
Signing ya death certificate sick with it pick it
Easy greasy slipping with so many styles hair do
Swoop right by you then dump you in the bayou
Classic fantastic rhyme fanatic who can master
A disaster to perfection selection still stretching
Nerves curves ya appetite cuz the flows ya can't bite
Ignite dynamite advance make ya eyes dance in a trance
Big as Ivan Drago punching combos **** instinct
Pyro cop those see a gem grow from my mental
Expose fake criminals maxis turn to minimals
Vibrate the set like freight trains or a jet none get next
They can't test us or out Plex us welcome to Southside Texas
We gotta multiple shottaz ranks higher than Shabba
Watch the lightening and thunder gun wonders
Make ya body colder than the tundra
The weather endeavor the witty too **** clever
Keep a bank roll.of mozzarella funky cheddar
Keep a circle of killaz like the Goodfellas
Also gotta girl badder than Shawna freaky as belldonna
Critics mad cuz they can't flex the un- tamable
Intangible suckas edible from the bullets eating
Skins clammy y'all gotta jam me can't spam me
Stay slammin' like Anfernee penny cuz she likes it the hard way
Maynnnee ?
Continue reading...
Dada Olowo Eyo Jan 2018
ELECTRONIC BABY.
She picks up and smashes my old cell phone,
Ears ***** at every text and ringing tone,
Naturally drawn to ones and zeros,
And excited by every four-gee and byte stream combos.
Continue reading...
Infamous one Feb 2021
I31
Training feels great, mild soreness. After pushing your mind and body doing pad drills. A variety of combos and technique is key. Making it easier to rest a deeper sleep.
A clear mind to write as it flows like a confession. The truth makes it easier than dealing with others dramatic lies.
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Mrs Timetable Apr 2020
Stylus
The one go to outfit
Style of stylus

The closet full of combos
Style of stylus

The fashion show
Style of stylus

Mix and match
Stay true to you
There are no rules

The fashion police have been
Fired
I love everyone’s different writing styles.
#writing #styles
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Bloodline of King Yashayah May 2020
Word Play
Yo first **** the radio DJs let the words prey
Cannons to spray one luv to my baby D'Shay
Twenty years strong arm wrestling no palms
Storms rolled out over clout snub nose snout
Checking haters route detour ya ******* pure
Lyrics genuine oh so fine skip over the sublime
Got more rhymes than the length of DMV lines
Stack money in pancakes can't stand fakes
See the money I intake invest the my estate
**** waiting for faith I took a shank to grimy fate
More dogs than Nate sixteen clips to regulate
Warning to ya fake Gs street hop monopoly
Black Bradley ya dues up so suckas pay up
No **** cup aggressive what see me abrupt
Politicians still talking silly stuff slash bluffs
Deflated power reinstated Malcolm braided
Off philosophy word to the old killer military
Patton stacking it rowdy as Staten got it patent
Shooters in the corner like Paxson to Jordan
Ya know I'm scoring without
pouring
Sparred against the eight seas Poseidon

Flows million and one combos ultra blow
Giving ya more and more chips like Theodore
Rough rider third eye glacier
analyzer
Wiser than the buds still knocking off studs
No grudges middle fingers to
judges
Court system I'll dismiss em and **** on 'em
Where I miss 'em this ain't a poetry flam flim
Jammin' blues old-school on the Oldsmobile
Feel the words that thrill lyrics stainless steel






War path like O-Dog gun smog art of war jogs
Still body hogs more hits than Wade Boggs
Mental clogged from the ****** jaws biting
Raw writing materials kiting over ya flawed skills
Signed ya will to my deadly microphone
Grills poetry slamming Magguette dunk spunks
Love girls with treasures sitting in they trunk
Open scoping still hoping as I'm gliding oceans
Potion poisonous darts blacked out hearts apart
Couldn't even get a start as I part the radios
Cosmos Atlantis two sided future past Janus
I see they ain't jamming us but still jam us
Back of the bus rhymes kicking like wind dust
Wild wild west this ain't a test flexin the best
House on the crest with a bunch of trained vets
Beautiful girlies quick to blast leather in fishnets
Hold the jet we got many servicing threats Scarlet
Been gone with the wind since she took a back bend
See the world she holsters in her pants advance
My mind on the stars put a hole in Mars carved
From my barbed wire thinking eyes open no blinking
Black Samus slowly rub my llamas gangsta scholars
Golden collars grit as a rottweiler almighty dollar
Got folks acting like Ojays see the blood from back displays
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Infamous one Mar 2021
I80
Writing with colored pens, makes writing seem more creative. Really enjoying the new process. Changing things up coaching is pushing the person you work with making them better its easier when they want it.
Now being coached is easy but when you are older with limited range of motion pushing yourself to be and do more. Waking up that muscle memory is intense when its been a while. Soreness is a great feeling after because you worked hard pushed through. Got to be able to work both sides of the pads open to learn the variations of combos and drill room for improvement and growth.
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