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The curtain on the
CPAC convocation rolls back,

as the revolution
in Tahrir Square boils.

America’s theater
of deadly political

absurdity commences;
to witness demagogues

recite holy scripture to
evangelize a religion of war.

A heavily invested
audience marvels

at the marionettes
pirouetting on strings

jigged along by hands
of invisible puppet-masters

donning dark masks of
clever 503C llcs

disguised in self serving
hues of red, white and blue.

This grand folly of masquers
conceals a fatal pantomime,

a cast of reactionary characters,
Neo-Conmen auditioning for

the leading role in a lurid play
of a deadly nation projecting
a dying imperial preeminence.

The martinets engage zero
sum games where the victor
belongs to the despoilers,

and the merchants of death
richly confer multimillion dollar
reasons for being, underwriting
the gilded egos of candidates

and their infatuation with the
vanity of feigned power.

These master rhetoricians
skillfully lather up the crowd

by pandering to basest
xenophobic nationalist
instincts and fantasies
of laissez-faire proclivities.  

Slathering on the partisan
pretense in layers so thick

a master chef, armed
with the sharpest Ginsu Knife

couldn't slice a hock tip
of blood red meat

hurled into the crowd of
gobbling Republicons

howling and yodeling
it’s derisive acclaim.

The rankled party line,
gibberish talking points

are hammer blows of
incessant propaganda,

so cocksure that any room for
doubt is crowded out by the

phantasmagorical McMansions
of hyperbole they ***** in

the pliant minds of their
gibbering minions.

The candidates preening for
president show off their

falangist affectations
in eager duels of oratorical

one upmanship; constantly
jockeying to outflank their

other Neo-Conmen opponents,
always concluding their brutish

diatribes with a solemn
denouement of a Republicon

psalm ending with a
Holy Hosanna Hallelujah

to the Ronald Reagan
Heavenly Buddha.

Punchline of the holy Amen
“what would Reagan do?”

to remind the faithful
to remain the faithful

bearers to the fiction
of dead Reaganism.

Evoking anything
Ron and Nancy

induces sanctioned
comportment of a

slow simmering
******* eubellence

providing a welcomed
relief of repressed
libidinal energy.

The mention of Goldwater
sends GOP acolytes to

pause in reverence,
envisioning Barry and

Ronnie looking down
from heaven upon the gathered,

inciting immediate ruminations
of falling dominos and

the viability of a
tactical nuke strike

against Ayatollah’s
underground
uranium factories.

The host of Neo-Conmen,
new age Falangist pitchmen

belch from the dais,
in ever increasing alacrity,

the stirring drum beats
and slick videos,

of glorious warriors
winning the battlefield

with the rippling glory
of the Stars and Stripes

flowing in a continual
loop behind them.

Romney,
Bachmann

Gingrich
take center stage,

goose stepping
to the roll of piercing timpanis.

Words slither
out of their mouths
like poisonous snakes.

Lies, hiss through
their teeth.

Open mouths
expose Black Mamba
fangs, dripping with venom.

Eyes squint
as their reptilian brains

implore the besieged
to flee from the
light of truth.

Seeking refuge in fear;
yet on the ready

to coil and strike;
while trembling

in ignorance,
exalting loathsomeness

worshiping violence;
they remain

poised to unleash
first strike armies;

boastfully evoking moral
platitudes of Bush Doctrine
prerogatives.

Trembling in ignorance
worshiping violence

exalting fear,
these dogs of war bay

to unleash armies
against the

Godless apostates
that threaten

to expose the
stasis of their

Capitalismo-Judeo-Christian
view of the world.

They have hijacked
the great faith traditions

to serve a narrow
political aim

and relish any
opportunity to

demonize Islam
in service to their lies.

Watch as they
they crouch down

on the dais to
open the nest

of vipers welling
deep within the
bowels of their souls.

They find relief
by excreting their

spawn of deadly asps
into the veins of

cable news networks;
scoring political points

with the terrorized
children of Faux News

capturing battalions
of straw men villains

to rise atop meaningless
straw polls.

They agitate for a second
American revolution

by injecting the venom
of fear and lies

into the body
politic.

Ron Paul
stands alone,

perplexed why
American's love

war as much as
they hate civil liberties?

Cheney and
Rumsfeld brood.

The people of
Iraq and Afghanistan

fail to embrace their armies
of liberation that run up

unfortunate collateral damage
body counts required to sustain
the American way of life.

Ever the defender of
democracy and liberty,

Gingrich slams Obama's
condemnation of Suleiman

"hes an able diplomat."
Gingrich  forgot to add

that Suleiman is a
skilled torturer and

an able tyrant any self
serving democracy would
be proud to call ally and friend.

Cheney and Rumsfeld
remain flummoxed.

Their armies of liberation bogged
down in the marshy Blackwaters

of intractability;  trying to solve
the conundrum of the diminished

equity returns of asymmetrical
warfare.  Spinning the math

to justify building aircraft carriers
to **** a gnat.

The families of dead soldiers
surround them and wave dime

store flags hoping the plastic
eagle remains fixed atop the pole.

Perpetually smiling
Michele Bachmann
raises the specter
of Muslim Brotherhoods
taking over Egypt.

The persecution of Christians
and the escalating war on

Christianity have the Crusaders
up on their seats waving Excalibur
once again.

Gingrich pink cheeks
flush with the cash

of a Zionist casino
entrepreneur

doubles down, stacks
his chips high.

“The Israeli Embassy
in Cairo was overrun
by angry mobs.”  

“Is this a precursor of
cancelling the peace treaty
signed with Sadat?”

“The pullout in Iraq hands the country to
radical Shiites effectively handing our
hard won victory to Iran.”

“Israel is threatened and will not
permit Iran to acquire nuclear

weapons. A nuclear empowered Iran
will not stand!”

“We mustn't let do nothing Obama
threaten the safety of our good ally
Israel.”

CPAC willingly holds the deadly asp
to the breast of a proud nation.

Urging, coaxing it to gently sink
its teeth into the sacred heart
of our dear republic...

John Lee ******
Crawlin King Snake

CPAC 2011

Matthew 23
Brood of Vipers


jbm
Oakland
2/10/11
Rodney Mendoza May 2014
I'm that used ****** under the bed that your girlfriend found.                                                                                                          I'm that last breath you take before you drown.                           I'm that raised manhole cover that give you blowouts.              I'm that pothole in the hood that the City knows about.         THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                         I'm the safety on that nine that determines life or death.                                                                                                                 I'm that asthma attack you had when you couldn't catch your breath.                                                                                                          I'm that last surviving egg about to go head on with that *****.                                                                                                         I'm that ***** next door that gave your wife that ****** up perm.                                                                                                        THEY CALL DRAMA.                                                                                I'm that wooden baton when you get your *** beat by the cop.   I'm that SUV the kids jumped out of when they robbed the **** spot.                                                                                                               I'm that sweat tricklin' down your cheek like someone shot ya. 
I'm that quarter pound of **** under your seat when the cops stop ya.                                                                                                   THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                         I'm that Breathalyzer test that test alcoholics.                                I'm that ******* that comes back after you flush the toilet. I'm that **** you took before you realized you ran out of tissue. 
I'm that *** stain left on blouses by government officials. 
THEY CALL DRAMA.                                                                               I'm that cold turkey when you got dope dependency.                       I'm that bottle of pills when you got suicidal tendencies.            I'm that bet your ******* made when you knew you didn't have no money.                                                           ­                                I'm that roach crawlin' cross your T.V. every time you got company.                                                                                                THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                         I'm that hole in your socks when you try on new sneakers.     I'm that ****** up sound that comes out when you got busted speakers.                                                        ­                                               I'm that slippery lane when girls think they're to cute to bowl. I'm that telephone pole when young car thieves lose control.       THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                             I was that dingy *** collar infested with Jeri curl juice.                  I was that crack addiction you had when you noticed your pants were too loose.                                                                  ­                 I was that closet your friend came out of when he said that he was gay.                                                                                                           I was that red spot on those blue jeans when your little girl forgot it was the 28th day.                                                                  THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                          I'm that **** you take after the 3rd day of being burnt.               I'm those dingy thongs when women wear those short *** skirts.                                                                                                           I'm that government cheese that didn't melt in your baked macaroni.                                                                                                   I'm that 10year bid you did all because you didn't rat on your *****.                                                                                                          I'm that long Island ice tea that got you that DWI charge.                                                          ­                                              I'm that slippin' transmission in bank robbers getaway cars.    THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                         I'm that seven you rolled every time you played craps.             I'm that burnin' sensation your girl gave you.                          
**** it. Just call me the clap.                                                            ­                                                 I'm that 300lb. Freak talkin' about "let me get on top boo'.                                                            ­                                                      I was that DNA the cops found that pointed straight to you.    I was that broken crack pipe when you had just brought an 8ball of crack.                                                                                                I was that ******* coke you brought that wouldn't come back.    I was that peanut butter and jelly sandwich after school      when there wasn't **** else to eat.                                                             ­                                                       I was that smell between your toes when you had stink feet.                                                            ­                                                       I was those socks on your hands when you couldn't afford gloves. I'm those bubbles that float up your back every time you **** in the tub. THEY CALL ME DRAMA.  c. R. Mendoza
Katie Doe Apr 2013
I feel my wings have broken in your hands
I feel the words unspoken inside
And, they pull you under
And, I will give you anything you want, oh
You are all I wanted
All my dreams are fallen down
Crawlin' around and around and around

Somebody save me
Let your warm hands break right through it
Somebody save me
I don't care how you do it, just stay, stay
C'mon, I've been waiting for you

I see the world has folded in your heart
I feel the waves crash down inside
And, they pull me under
I would give you anything you want, oh
You are all I wanted
All my dreams have fallen down
Crawlin' around and around and around...

Somebody save me
Let your warm hands break right through it
Somebody save me
I don't care how you do it, just stay, stay
C'mon, I've been waiting for you

All my dreams are on the ground
Crawlin' around and around and around...

Somebody save me
Let your warm hands break right through
Somebody save me
I don't care how you do it just stay (stay with me)

I made this whole world shine for you
Just stay, stay
C'mon, I'm still waiting for you
Ruby Flynn Jun 2011
I swear, I just love peaches.
I love the way they feel in my hand,
tender and furry.
I ate one today, ya know.
I just let the juices dribble down
my chin and into the creases of my neck
so that I got all sticky
but I didn't even wipe it off.
Them sticky juices
reminded me of this one time,
Remember?
That one time when me and you
were little and we were sitting
on the curb eatin' peaches and
laughing at the ants crawlin' between our toes.
Yesterday, I had an ant crawl on my toe.
But I just killed it.
You may talk o’ gin and beer
When you’re quartered safe out ‘ere,
An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it;
But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water,
An’ you’ll lick the bloomin’ boots of ‘im that’s got it.
Now in Injia’s sunny clime,
Where I used to spend my time
A-servin’ of ‘Er Majesty the Queen,
Of all them blackfaced crew
The finest man I knew
Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
      He was “Din! Din! Din!
  You limpin’ lump o’ brick-dust, Gunga Din!
      Hi! slippery hitherao!
      Water, get it!  Panee lao!
  You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.”

The uniform ‘e wore
Was nothin’ much before,
An’ rather less than ‘arf o’ that be’ind,
For a piece o’ twisty rag
An’ a goatskin water-bag
Was all the field-equipment ‘e could find.
When the sweatin’ troop-train lay
In a sidin’ through the day,
Where the ‘eat would make your bloomin’ eyebrows crawl,
We shouted “Harry By!”
Till our throats were bricky-dry,
Then we wopped ‘im ‘cause ‘e couldn’t serve us all.
      It was “Din! Din! Din!
  You ‘eathen, where the mischief ‘ave you been?
      You put some juldee in it
      Or I’ll marrow you this minute
  If you don’t fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!”

‘E would dot an’ carry one
Till the longest day was done;
An’ ‘e didn’t seem to know the use o’ fear.
If we charged or broke or cut,
You could bet your bloomin’ nut,
‘E’d be waitin’ fifty paces right flank rear.
With ‘is mussick on ‘is back,
‘E would skip with our attack,
An’ watch us till the bugles made “Retire”,
An’ for all ‘is ***** ‘ide
‘E was white, clear white, inside
When ‘e went to tend the wounded under fire!
      It was “Din! Din! Din!”
  With the bullets kickin’ dust-spots on the green.
      When the cartridges ran out,
      You could hear the front-files shout,
  “Hi! ammunition-mules an’ Gunga Din!”

I shan’t forgit the night
When I dropped be’ind the fight
With a bullet where my belt-plate should ‘a’ been.
I was chokin’ mad with thirst,
An’ the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin’, gruntin’ Gunga Din.
‘E lifted up my ‘ead,
An’ he plugged me where I bled,
An’ ‘e guv me ‘arf-a-pint o’ water-green:
It was crawlin’ and it stunk,
But of all the drinks I’ve drunk,
I’m gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
      It was “Din! Din! Din!
  ‘Ere’s a beggar with a bullet through ‘is spleen;
      ‘E’s chawin’ up the ground,
      An’ ‘e’s kickin’ all around:
  For Gawd’s sake *** the water, Gunga Din!”

‘E carried me away
To where a dooli lay,
An’ a bullet come an’ drilled the beggar clean.
‘E put me safe inside,
An’ just before ‘e died,
“I ‘ope you liked your drink”, sez Gunga Din.
So I’ll meet ‘im later on
At the place where ‘e is gone—
Where it’s always double drill and no canteen;
‘E’ll be squattin’ on the coals
Givin’ drink to poor ****** souls,
An’ I’ll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
      Yes, Din! Din! Din!
  You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
      Though I’ve belted you and flayed you,
      By the livin’ Gawd that made you,
  You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din!
Tyler Matthew Jan 2021
Eat it up while you can, pig!
Your future's looking grim.
Head down in a pig trough,
spilling at the brim.
Farmer stands with his shotgun.
That look is in his eye.
You're squealin' now like a loose wheel,
wishin' you could fly.
Running 'round in the pigsty.
**** stains on your pig chin.
Fear keepin' your eyes wide.
Crawlin' out of your pig skin.
Eat it all while you can, pig!
And don't forget to chew!
The dinner bell's a-ringin'
and we've got plans for you!
Inspired by "Pigs (Three Different Ones)" by Pink Floyd, from the album "Animals."
Got a Hellhound on my trail
Devil Dogs locked on my scent
Hears the barkin and yowlin
Still runnin but my energy's spent

Got a monkey on my back
**** thing stranglin my soul
my skins crawlin, liver aching
self abuse done took its toll

bill collectors keep callin
dialin me up in real time
debt for ill spent life past due
bro won't spare a **** dime

ol sun did rise this mornin
Lord gave me one more day
to see the light, set things right
before he takes me away

sick and tired of sick and tired
can't play this tune no more
take one step to a brand new life
before I knock on heavens door

Music Selection:
Robert Johnson,
Hellhound on My Trail

NYC
3/19/05
jbm
Note: scribbled six months before my first AA meeting and God willing last drunk. Do you think I suspected that my life was becoming unmanageable and that I was powerless over alcohol? As this proves, I realized I had an inkling of my problem but I remained convinced I wasn't sick.
That all changed 9/30/05.
TBTG!
Still gotta be on the lookout for those hell hounds though.
Their still out there looking for me that's for sure.
Dana Skorvankova Jul 2016
Black dew into the black night
When falling,
Sadness to my dreams is crawlin'

After the last secret
falls out of me

I laugh at this night
coming out of what was she

And after we wake up the other day
the sun's gonna caress thee
I can hardly breathe now
I can write no more
kate crash Jul 2010
ridin' wild with the broken down trannies in zoot suits n' water pistols aimin' to capture the sun from ten feet underground i swear it's darker than my gut insides crawlin' around in the glitter and filth i caught me diseased wealth heartache and small pond fame i caught me a sugarless daddy and a stage name i caught me a gutter and a song but still i wonder  how to walk but i can sure sweet talk sssssssslither love
David I Phillips Mar 2010
Wi yer eyes stingin n wet wi tears
N muk bungin up tha nose n ears
N a white rimmed ed where thi's ad thi hat
Up tha floats on't lift like a drownded rat

After twelve hours tha's pretty dun in
Whilst t'other folks as been kippin n dreamin
Tha's bin diggin n drillin like summart daft
Now up tha floats on't hydraulic raft

The cold morn air meks tha lungs urt
Cause tha's bin breathin muk n dirt
Fer nigh on forty years or more
That most folks wudn't ave on't floor

N as tha washes all't muk away
Tha knows thas sum that'll allus stay
N whilst outside tha luks nice n clean
Tha's stuff inside thi th't'll never be seen

Until o course tha's gon n died
N them docter fellers tek a look inside
N in amazement they'll stand n stare
At all that muk th't shudn't be there

N wen tha's ded it'll be nowt new
Not too a bloke what's lived like you
Fer now tha's on'y six feet under
Wen undreds is what thas bin used to

N't Crowner'll say thi ad a natural death
Not like them th't had their last breath
At sixteen, seventeen, twenty or more
When sum big explosions brought ceiling t floor

But a doubt if tha'll think it wer thi turn
As tha lays there nattering t worm
Crawlin in n out o yer ears
Not much t show fer sixtyodd years

Still what else cud you ave dun, that's it
But follow yer old man down pit
A mean even his dad was a facer tha knows
Kem out at thirty wi' ands like claws

Ah well it's time fer sum grub
Then half-a-dozen pints't pub
Wi an hour or two o noonday sun
Then back t wife fer an hour o fun
N be six next morning I'll be feelin well
As I teks yon raft t bowels of 'ell
Thirty shillin a week be summer the reckonin
Ah but then they can't see yon worm beckonin


Remember this is a 'Performance Poem'
and the style of writing acts as a
speech prompt. The accent is loosely
Yorkshire. A 'Crowner 'is an old word
for a Coroner.
I hope you enjoy it.

© David Irwin Phillips 2008
This is a performance poem, it also won first prize in a Writer's Magazine competeition
Can be heard on www.irwin-poetry.co.uk- From Emotional Swings & Round-a-bouts
jeffrey robin Sep 2011
now
aint no reason there aint no revolution
aint no purpose to what we all are doing
aint no sense to it all
all these rich and high falutin
imitations
of human beings
.........
aint no love in crawlin
aint no pride
aint no dignity
come
aint no reason there aint no revolution
cept you
................
stop yer crawlin
makes ya look ugly
stop doin
what you shouldnt be doin
do what ya should
.....love.....
---------
aint no reason
aint no reason
aint no reason
.
to die
.
only  live
ta live
only live ta live
only love ta live
only
live ta love
miss pie Oct 2014
wonder if it's real
this place I call home
where the cosmos create
the tides turn and
the moon is in cahoots
with the cat population

wild wolf howl roars
composure unwraps
conscious our conversation
crawlin' round my belly

a quiet coat of fur
heart warming homecoming
the ease of revolution
there's no place like home...clickcluck... There's no place like home
am i ee Sep 2015
Pay attention!
rap rap
said the big fat bus,
with the big fat bootay.

i say
i have something
to say
to you!

a wee bit of advice to you
you so sweet
young lasses
out and about
on hot summer nights
in camaros
and vans
and pintos
and mustangs.
and mom's
station wagon's.



# 1
when that eager
young lad's hands
are a crawlin' all over
you.

yes YOU missy,
your sweet nubile
young territory,

the time will come
when you shall
want all these
shennanigans to
STOP!

so i give to thee
some wee
words of advice.

#2
Be firm with your delivery.
Do not waver.
Strong even voice,
increase volume if
necessary.

to the
Kind sir,
the,
young lad..

say!

i do not beg you,
i command thee ...
be sure to understand!
keep those roving
hands to thyself.

for you can
rest assured,

this playground is closed!

this is a no nookey zone!

#3
blue *****,
you claim,
they are a ailing you?

for you i give
this sound advice,

say!
introduce yourself
to your right hand,

and ifn' you be a wantin'
a menage eh of three,

invite
your,
left hand
to
come along!

#4
Be firm and be sure,
you are sitting on
a sacred fortune of gold,
don't let them
miners be gropin'
around,
be a gropin'
you.

it is only for you
to sacredly unfold
your divine
femininin-ess.

if you want to do it,
do it...
but search your heart long before you do.  
at least think you are in love
before taking the plunge.

first loves are sweet
and last long
in hidden recesses of
mysterious minds.

take your time,
30 and more,
is the age
we big fat busses
with big fat yellow bootays
come into our own.

no rush.
nowhere to go.
all the time in the world to get there.
there is,
i assure you,
no rush.
L Jun 2019
Angel, you’ve got me crawlin’, beggin’.
Throw me your crumbs, I’m a dog at your feet.
And I’ll howl when you leave, that sweet song o’ lone.

And she doesn’t know it.
She doesn’t know it.

But when you talk, I listen for the lick o’ your lips, the pause when you swallow.
And it’s so good, baby; the wait to know you, the wait to show you, the marks I’d love to leave you.
I’ll sit n’ wait. Sit n’ wait.
Sit, lie down, roll over.
When you walked away, you pulled my chain too.
When you walk away, you pull my heart with you.

Woof, baby. I’m nothin’ but the dog at your doorstep.
Drenched and hungry. Say somethin’ for me.
N’ my ears’ll perk up, and you’ll see my tail wag.
This dog’s got tooth, but honey, his heart’s trained for you.

You’ve got me crawlin’.
And when you leave, I’ll howl to you, that sweet song o’ lone.
Because she doesn’t know it, but she’s got me with hearts in my eyes,
and tongue lolling out my mouth.
All I am’s just dog, beggin’,

and I’d never known that trick before you.



-
Lee Janes Jan 2013
1.
Travel through the woods on a summer's day,
Worries of daily chores dream endlessly away.
Captive not, are we from natures luscious breast
Soak within Apollo's warm oval'd gleamin' crest.
Captive not, as mother earth, weaves her sorcery spell,
Whistle with the wind to hear where hedge-sparrows dwell.
The passion'd view before my eyes, I restrain from weep,
For court'd law, Satan'd, bathes us in shrouded deceit.

2.
Draw the air sacred belongs to every breath,
Lack there of faith, time, now, life and death.
Makes a-wonderin' in the wood on a summers day,
Bring Milton's sirens; sing their note to the authors sway.
Five senses, being, soul, was gave human-kind,
The Zephyr bids the breeze to flutter the leaf, forces blind.
Let the trees reach high, those clouds few crawlin' slow over blue sky,
Gaze upward from a-new clearing I found, now where I lie.

3.
The song I sing you from the lazy day of today,
Brings forth illuminous colours from this wood in sunny May,
To show us all the mundane lack of our own lives,
Livin' the pressur'd tasks of Henrys forsaken already wives.
To stress surely not, about obvious waste of things,
Can't you see Constables paintings of what nature brings?
The absolute amazement, of how everyday hits our eye,
To leave an imprint, however deep, as stars roll by.

4.
Humming the tunes of Virgil, Dante, Chaucer and Keats,
Washing your bliss with the strums of nature's beats.
Scrubbin' this modern life's hectic ebb and flow;
Where's the wonderment gone from this wood'd meadow grow.
Simple treats of sweets greet our presence every time,
We open our thoughts, our minds, and enter into sublime.
Stories are told, heard, forgotten, written down;
For so this earths beauty be not dismiss'd, for worth of a crown.
JMG Dec 2010
[[This one was written to the tune of Joe's Head by Kings of Leon]]


Beware; zombies' feeding
Cold and blood and snow
They gon' get them a fixin'
I say, y'all better go

Heavy weighs destruction
Breathing are the dead
Try to keep up wit' yo wishin'
Oh, welcome to the end

It's too late for your prayers, dear
They're crawlin' at your feet
It really is the end of the world, I said
Soon, zombies'll be feeding upon my head
But I aint thru livin' yet
And I sho ain't ready to be dead
The walkin' dead are gon' eat us, mayuhn!
They caught us off guard with no defense
So now we're all dead
Zombies are painting our whole world red.....
If you haven't heard the song, listen to it...
Joe's Head - Kings of Leon
It will make your reading experience more enjoyable!!!
uh im rude like awakening
*knock those out who fakin' flakin'

like they frosted i leave ya exhausted
hard to see me when them black ants
crawlin' over eye visions cuz my visions
dehydrate your precisions
stingin' ya harder the bees like wind to breeze
ya cant slow me yall haters below me
bring force like kinobi just show me
yo head so i can fill it with led down goes yo bread
tears in the hearts of families fatalities bring joy to me
emcees beware ya in for a scare no truth or dare
pause ya like ya in a stare
first glare ya see im in ya shadows
check my plateau ruthless as Don Vito evils we see no
remorse for those who try to show
out they *** we never chased the cash
we burned out like brass true with me class
yall dont want no clash
dancin' with the titan fast as lightening
strike so compellin' enticin' frightening
no late night news can fused or abuse
our images we mass murderers lowerin' percentages
of those in advantage we bringin' mo' carnage
than the average savage live in havoc
dont thread the best unless ya wanna die like the rest
ease my stress with totes of canibus while yall diss
im chillin' like maximus
full potential we never been bought out chips just sought out
takin' over islands reestablish demands with illegal contrabands
one man stand
dont need no fan feel me i be the straight loco true colo
******* by nature too a few bites from forbidden manzana
makin' miracles like ana
from lyrical content bites critics like piranhas sound the black madonna whos gonna?
*stop me once i began the tears so ***** *** commentators beware
Steven Hutchison Apr 2014
Hush up your mind there lazy wanderer.
Can’t you feel the spirit in the breeze?
The streets are quiet and the stars are loud
And ain’t nothin' still burnin' but the red bud trees.
The mayflies are crawlin’ and the sugar baby bees
Are swarmin’ round the amber candied suns.
Peel back your ears to the summertime thunder.
Pillow clouds in the South have all the fun.
Sidewalk says if you ain’t lost you’ve won.
So you can hold that dusty chin up high.
Let the hills hold your breath ’til you you need to sing.
They’re good at keepin’ secrets and they never ask why.
Hush up your mind there lazy wanderer.
Can’t you feel the spirit in the breeze?
The streets are quiet and the stars are loud
And ain't nothin' still burnin' but the red bud trees.
Verdae Geissler Sep 2012
funworKs in ears and toes

hear the silence between the noise

it is what every one wants .. ha ha

eventually

after glacicers crack

and hank williams dies

it is the silence.

did you ever see a night so long

when time goes crawlin’ bye

the moon jes went behind a cloud

‘m sa lonesome I could cry …..
uh im rude like awakening knock those out who fakin'
flakin' like  they frosted i leave ya exhaushted
hard to see me when them black ants
crawlin' over eye visions cuz my visions
dehydrate your precisions
stingin' ya harder the bees like wind to breeze
ya cant slow me yall haters below me
bring force like kinobi just show me
yo head so i can fill it with led down goes yo bread
tears in the hearts of families fatalities bring joy to me
emcees beware ya in for a scare no truth or dare
pause ya like a stare first glare ya see
im in ya shadows check my plateau ruthless as Don Vito  
evils we see no remorse for those who try to show
out they *** we never chased the cash
we burned out like brass true with me class
yall dont want clash dancin' with the titan fast as lightening
strike so compellin' enticin' frightening
no late night news can fused or abuse
our images we mass murderers lowerin' percentages
of those in advantage we bringin' mo' carnage
than the average savage live in havoc
dont thread the best unless ya wanna die like the rest
ease my stress with totes of canibus while yall diss
im chillin' like maximus full potential
we never bought out chips just sought out
takin' over islands reestablish demands
with illegal contrabands one man stand dont need no fan
feel me i be the straight loco true colo ******* by nature
too a few bites from forbidden manzana
makin'  miracles like ana from lyrical content
bites critics like piranhas sound the black madonna whos gonna?
stop me once i began the tears
so you imitators
commentators beware
Yo, see the man fly,
With the suit and tie,
Dont ask why,
My hands spread,
Like im reaching the sky,
Big steps, before i make preps,
These days competition is sweepd,
Overslept,
From mics that crept,
Stage presence opera,
Everyone gather around tha,
Lovely poetic vibes,
Honeys spinnin, off of the bee hives,
All the way live,
Lake side, another spirtual homicide,
I just let my soul ride,
To the beat, thats when the lyrics meet,
And hyped, my speaks,
This aint a wack version,
Or a tweek,
I speak on the real,
Say **** mass appeal,
Spotlights i ****, send cold chills,
Even when the warmth, feels,
Over ya bones,
Melody lays like Quincy Jones,
All alone,
Smooth vocals of a baritone,
Let the band play on,
I could awaken the dead,
Pop the coffin top, before the body rots,
Resurrect the script, from the words encrypt,
Power of the tongue,
See how jesus brung,
Life out of death, til my last breath,
Ill still be present,
Eerie souls, glossing over the essence,
Skin in the sun,
Doing a melanin dance, no way you ever could chance,
Andrew Tinkham Jul 2014
You in you out I'm excited again
Maybe you maybe not but we'll not pretend
I love you a lot and there ain't no doubt
Maybe you maybe not but we're gonna find out

I met her on a drunken night when I put my head down on her shoulder
We danced I suppose I lifted arms just to hold her

I'm in love with the look in your eyes
When you are angry ain't it just a disguise
There's evening empires and who's got the crown now?
We pay it no mind if one decides to be the clown now

I asked her to marry me when I heard a voice to tell me to
I was layin' down in bed it said ask her she might let you
I says I haven't got a ring and many things we'd have to do
It says you pay it no mind now who's gonna forget you?
I asked her to marry me she asked if I was serious
How could she not know I's serious I thought she's beggin' me to
Well I buried my head and said yes and she said yes I said oh my and then
           I kissed her and then nothing happened...


A cloud descended like a dust and my head hurt but I was tired
The next day I had the most brilliant idea at work I said, Hey! I'll call it off!


Didn't see her after work I had another engagement, seeing the new City
           Treasurer being sworn in he was my step dad
When I got home oh man my head was really throbbin' now and I could
            hardly stand
Pile of dishes, pile of clothes every gadget turned on and ev'ry window
            closed
I said don't mind the dishes and let me turn off all of those there was a
            grouchin' in my voice and I took off most my clothes
I opened up a window let the evening air in, started on the dishes and she
            thinks it's a sin
Well I got to bed and she was cold as the North pole I forgot my idea and
            started workin' on my soul
Next morning finally comes and she's still not lookin' at me and I told her
             let's forget it she said hey why not forget 'we'
I tried to explain that marriage ain't all that there is and it was clouding up
            my mystery let's just leave it where it is
She just drove me to work I said you should make up your mind, cause
            you can sure leave me I ain't the crawlin' back kind

What this is all about
Maybe you maybe not
I got my mystery back
And we're gonna find out
journey through the terror
of this new era
mind blown subjugated to *******
every time i spit
a verse critics come to curse
soon to see the hearse
when my guns burst
open yo soul and let it flow
as i get a lift off my indo
no pretender
make enemies surrender
war strategist at heart
never fall part sticknthe game like darts
**** peace war is a necessity
who can get next to me
if im surrounded by real killaz?
mobbin' guerillas
drug dealers to cap. peelaz?
watch yo head now
step to the yosef
prepare to bow
down to the southern sound
fools all around
wanna see me drown
but my heads above the waters
rise through all the pain
and madness circlin my brain
how cani explain?
the worlds luxury and treachery
wrapped up all in one
got **** this aint the life i promised
federals funerals to criminals
is all i see all eyes on me
take a take trip throughy mind
ya realilty
but still i role out hard
ballad of a dead soulja


the more madness that scatters my brain
the more i make pain
scream at my foes with forty four
by the time i step through the door
down the corridors they'll be gore
yall can have the battles
but i win the war soar
pass *******
**** what these hypocrites
say about me they can quote me
in magazine but i gotta magazine
next to my ar fifteen
aimmin between ya shoulders til ya guillotine then transform on the scene
puff my green and let it meditate my peen
my team all get creams
headed for the ceiling never chillin'
i be the political villian
got them devils filming
me and gotta watch my moves
butnit dont matter
im coming for you fake Jews
i know you own everythang
but **** yo gangs
its the return of the black kang
assign me my throne
bow down *******
cuz the legacy is home
crawlin on fours
cuz i told ya
dry ya tears
death is here
cuz this ballad of a dead soulja
Jay M May 2020
GORE WARNING - The following contains language describing blood, gore, and death.


Take to the streets
Frozen black rivers
Flow no more
Then once more
Icy black veins
Leading to a dead cold highway
Nothing left to stay
All guilty on the floor
Shouldn't have opened the **** door

Play the song, broken chords
Walking across creaking floor boards
Just can't seem to take the reins
Move the paralyzed limbs
When looking into the eyes of the ******
Lurking just around the bend
Waiting for the prey to turn
And be fallen
Back to the floor
Blood on the door
Screaming, smothered, crawlin'
Drop like a fly
Hush, run, there's no more need to cry

Sprawled out along the canvas
Open and on display
Spilling forth the contents
Bringing the scene some color
Breathe a little life into the gloom
Damp and dark
A beautiful mess
A masterpiece

Artist gone, first piece done
For now there are none
To view the first for the gallery

Sirens wail
People pale
Push past the door
Witness the horror on the floor
Blood pooled around it
Sprayed on the wall behind it
Corpse with a permanent smile
Blood oozing out like syrup
Criss-crosses carved over the eyes
Game over for the poor soul

Chest sliced open down to the waist
Pulled open, ribs like an opened cage
Heart delicately cut out
Missing from the scene
Didn't go to waste
Could this have been lovers rage?
Such is for the authority to figure out
Not exactly serene
With the entrails on the floor
Revealing that more than one ***** left through the door

With the same care as the heart
Both kidneys missing
Leaving but ****** spaces
What anther strange part
Not to be dismissing
As a mother paces
Shocked and worry stricken
What has become of her family?
Her husband lay dead
Her daughter gone
Just as the young one said had said
Now it seemed she had fled
Never to return the next dawn..

- Jay M
May 5th, 2020
This piece is rather dark, and is based upon my new character "Sara" for a horror story I'm working on.

Yes, in the story the daughter "Sara" brutally murders her father while her mother is out.
Annie Sep 2015
The last one and you think you're done
They are no fun,
Just trouble in your lungs
And even when you don't want them to,
They end up creepin and crawlin
back to you.
mikecccc Sep 2015
crawlin up and down
my person
I can feel it
but I cant see it
its dam uncomfortable
but supposedly
if I take this and that
I can battle the invisible menace
I will feel better soonish
if it doesn't **** me.
Sometimes Starr Jan 2018
The grotesque tends to grow like a fungus,
From the depths of the living heart
Crawlin' from inside us
You can call to the angels but they lied
Baby Judas
Had a star too, Betelgeuse
Jesus couldn't hide.

She's a girl
She can take you anywhere
She's a girl
She can make you anything

Adam was bad boy, God's *******
Had a black leather fetish
And his first lover lingered
He would sneak out and **** her in the night
Little ignorant
Cause she's same woman, whatcha think, whatcha figure?

She's a girl
She can take you anywhere
She's a girl
She can make you anything
She's a girl, she's got jet black wings
Psychedelic, she will manifest your mind.

Grotesque, here comes the grotesque
Grotesque, here comes the grotesque
Growtesque, here comes the world again
You're a mutant fungus,
You were born grotesque.
inspired by Marilyn Manson, can't hide that.
YOU BETTER **** EVERYBODY BEFORE THEY **** YOU FIRST even though ****** is illegal on Cebu Island. Beware of the social security death registry. It's over baby! Accept it. I'm making it with your sister even though she's witless, because I like her better than you after the surgery made your ill parts titless.
Jay M Sep 2020
This heart is
Beating me to death every day
Leaving me with barely a word to say
Trapped in a tiny cage it shall stay
My mind in one of its own

Sitting in a dark room
Lookin' up into the gloom
Taking a blast
Into memories of the past

I'm addicted
To running
Heart gunning
Out of my mind
To possibly find
Some way out of this
Nightmare I'm walking

Sleep is freedom
And freedom is weighed
Shackles at the exits
A kick in the ***
Get up

Day in and
Day out
It's the same old ****
Take another hit
To the chest
Just to remember
That you're alive

I'm addicted
To running
Heart gunning
Out of my mind
To possibly find
Some way out of this
Nightmare I'm walking

Smacked to the concrete
Down in defeat
Crawling, twitching like a bug

Skull devouring
Never quite full
Information keeps slippin'
Fallin' away
Like all the words I try to say

I'm addicted
To finding another way
Out of this insanity
Oh, what a calamity!

It's not over yet
Book isn't closed
Game still has levels left
Towering over
Undefeated
One player here
Looks like it's me
But the date's from last week

Smacked to the concrete
Down in defeat
Crawlin', twitchin' like a bug

Words are haunting me
Cutting, cutting like a knife
Buzzing around like a bee

I'm addicted
To hiding it all away
What's there to say?
That I made the mistake,
That I ******* it up?
At least I'm not fake,
And can own up to my own ****

I'm addicted to the games that I play
Put on the show
And nobody could know
Well, until you wind up in hell
And pry open like a **** clam

Words pouring like drops of rain
Telling tales of my love and my pain
There's nothing to gain
But maybe relief of release
From my brain to the page
The page to the screen.

- Jay M
September 10th, 2020
Read the last stanza, first 2 lines. I guess that's what this is? Dunno.

*I listened to "Not That Beautiful" by Papa Roach as I wrote this.
Annie Jun 2017
I'm creepin,
I'm crawlin,
I'm creepin all over you.

I know you see me,
I know you feel me,
creepin all over you.

Hear me,
Don't fear me,
And I will show you
what is true

Don't tease me,
I know you want me,
creepin all over you.

— The End —