"crud" poems
Yes its big yosef a true heavy weight makin' earthquakes through all states watch for the snakes
In the grass never front for the cash who wanna clash?
With a mighty Titan I'm on a God status love hoes with the **** size of Trish stratus
Now tell me who's the baddest
ya on a one way trip with Gladys Knight
On a Midnight train to Georgia no one heard of ya
Ya flows is wack your skull will get crack fuckin' with the mack
I make a love connection from my smif and wesson learned ya lesson no plexin'
On my team one man supreme like a lion i be the king makin' suckas sing
Lullabies I feel ya soul cry reaching for the sky
Ain't no ******* allowed puff a cloud til the city unda a smoke shroud
Fools Talk loud but die silent known to be be violent
If provoked by a fake loc my pistol loves to smoke it stays high
Leavin' holy bodies to fry
Who could outwrite this? my style will diss rhymes deeper than an abyss make ya ****
Out ya own blood as ya face down in the mud with no crud
Touchin' my eyes sleep with one eye
Open scopin' and hopin' got more scams than Ken Copeland I'm still floatin'
On cloud nine almost to ten sippin' gin never see me grin my lyrics touchin'
Every last one of you wack rappers so come again.....
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
I'd last about an hour as a clerk inside a store
invariably I'd shoot my mouth off
about someone's daughter dressing like a *****
or making comments about the dreadful things consumed
which would include a good 99% of the people in the room
I'd eventually end up getting my lights punched out
after ********* someone as a fat *** undiscerning lout
or cracking some aside regarding what comprises that crud
and making faces of revulsion "you'd be better off eating mud"
ewwwww, you really eat that stuff?
this store should be sued for selling such bluff
children with diabetes, a third of adults obese
the courtesy clerk dies a little for lack of surcease
line after line of vapid consumers
mindless knee-jerk impetuosity belay the rumors
what's an adulterant, what's a filler?
propylene glycol alginate, yum yum
sorbitan mono sterate, shut up and eat it, its fun!
I can't even pronounce it, much less do I care
need I be a scientist to enjoyably savor fare
Go ahead and poison yourself
the quirky clerk exclaimed
its ever so clear you're stupid and lame
stay mired in your pig-headed muck of ignorance
you're exactly what they want
another brain dead consumer
a regular culinary savant
stuff your face with no remorse nor heed
no worries, the clerk of little courtesy knows your need
he'll limply wheel out your cart of miserable choices for you
and wise-crack some snarky rejoinder
then promptly get beaten, black and blue
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
The worst type of critic
Is the critic with in me.
I always judge my work
Even if it's written perfectly.
Just like other critics,
I cannot silence this one.
But it takes a toll on my work,
It takes out all the major fun.
I love to write,
I love to share my ideas.
But I think all my work is crud
Even if it's beloved by my peers.
This makes the delete button
Oh so popular.
The inner criticism is choking me
He's got his hands against my jugular.
But I love what I do,
And I'll fight to the death,
Even if my work does ****
At least I tried my best.
I have to remember,
The best is what matters,
Practice makes perfect
I just have to continue climbing that ladder.
It'll be a tremendous feeling,
When I reach the top,
Because I'll know no critics
Even myself,
Made me stop what I love doing.
Writing.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
‘Flew back some of Crows to me
I helped them fly once far away,
For not to stay and eat me up!
Again and over again …
‘I tried so hard and fast I could
To stay away from Crows so black,
But no way there for me to escape
Walls and walls so high …
‘Wind of return from true to lie
Can’t deny the strongest touch,
Pleasure of surfing into the blue
Still fly there crud black Crows …
‘Black Crows chase me all the way
From dawn till dusk being breathless
Sometimes I win and lose in chain,
Sea-waves rest me at shore at night …
‘Liars taught me to catch the crows
To start a series of sins afterwards
I liked first then I came to know
Crows do deal with Lucifer’s choice …
‘Knew I was going through darkness
Just keeping faith to get a light,
At last I found there not a ray
Al least to find a way back home …
‘Home for me and home for you
Found but lost by misfortune,
So far as I try to regain,
Black Crows bar me from doing so …
‘Always tasty are forbidden fruits
Like grass is greener on other side,
Sense of reasons makes no change
You keep loving being captive …
‘So never ever catch Black Crows
must it leave you in tunnel so dark,
Even after you could find way out
You may lose your grace back there …
‘You yourself are a real touch-stone
To culture yourself among people,
Sounded bitter, should have been sweet
Wrong estimate just let you down …
‘I had two eyes but never saw
The pain emerged in parents hearts,
Watching me in black Crow’s ******
I was blind but I’ve realized now …
‘Wasted time’s now wasting me
Surely need to **** the crows,
And not to help them fly again
I wish myself to walk alive …
‘A lesson here goes to all fellows
To cure the wounds, not to endure,
The Crows will die forever too
Eyeful of ever blue sky, up there …
~ Anwar Parvez Shishir ~
05/DECEMBER/2013/THURSDAY
Jessore/Dhaka/Bangladesh
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
Chronic, demonic, eccentric, magic, poetic, tragic! Dreams it seems of comical or unusual! Visual sights of many sites! Plenty fights, heights, nights, plights and lights! Dreams it seems of chimes, crime, gleams and grime. Moonbeams, rhymes, screams and times. Dreams it seems as they attempt to tempt with contempt! Some become exempt
and unkempt! Dreams it seems of afros, arrows, buffalos, rainbows
and sparrows! Ample, purple-apples hung from chapels! Dreams it seems of hurdles and simple people as pimples jumping from steeples! Dreams it seems of the begotten, forgotten and rotten. Dreams and themes of cotton candy clouds! Crowds in shrouds! Dreams it seems
of the dandy and handy! Glories and gory stories of the holy or unholy. Dreams it seems of crud and mud! The loud and proud! The
vowed and wowed! Dreams it seems of blood and floods! Dreams it seems of amazing, crazing and gazing! I’m phrasing; “Is this a dream a scheme or hell?” Well I couldn’t tell! As I began to scream and
yell! Those streams of dreams that I dream… Dreams that I may, these dreams that I say. Dreams it seems in dreamy dismay.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 10:19 PM UTC
I could have come Goose stepping through that door on eggshells
With an anchor in the old ways, and the wind of change in my sails.
the crux is; decide what you want foul demon,
I can shield you from the fire or burn bright to show you the way,
but I will never burn out and I will never blow away.
So go snare some other paradox boxer
or lay in the brier patch of tangle choice
you once forced into my sides.
I do not permit you to handcuff your heart to my wrists,
and the baggage? Can stay at indoors.
The persistent demand of my presence pushes me into the love affair with the lies I tell myself that make you bearable.
I make no apologies for my vacant smile,
you bought my body not my soul.
And the clocks and deadlines made me to fix a do not disturb sign on my mind.
With the ultimatums delivered to me ear-trumpeting the feelings that already echo in my diminishing proud walk,
The spine slump didn't take long to take hold.
These are not poses.
This is who I am,
or at least who I used to be,
Or at least who I should have been,
But for the game of Chinese whispers Played with champions of the rumour mill and the ghosts they've created.
Removed from the hiding places are the scars and the tumours, I've been curing them in the sun.
If you came to me looking for a hero stance and a place to live at the foot of a mountain called meekness, then I will let you down.
I was bowled over by the crud slides long ago,
And now like all great insects,
I've wriggled free of the muck,
Striving out from under
more like Frankenstein's Monster
thriving in the thunder.
And making an exit,
whether you like it or not.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 4:58 PM UTC
dearest moenhead,
i am so deeply relieved that you are here for me
when I walk in the door
silently waiting to comfort me after a long day.
I look up at your beautiful head,
yes, I have neglected you~ there is rust collecting in your pores,
and tears welling up in your sparkling grey eyes
I wonder how long you have been going on like this?
Oh come now. Don't be cold. I'm home!
We can be together, right?
I turn up the heat
no wasting time
I turn you on, warm you up,
and step into your powerful flow of pure joy...
You shower me with kindness, gently massaging
away my every ache,
all the day's tension down the drain
oh you are the best~
under your washful forgiving eyes,
freed from from the distraction of self awareness,
lost in the luxury of suds and pelting pleasure,
i seem to melt into the cheap fiberglass casing.
but you...
you transform ordinary water into liquid gold and
make this place feel more like a resort
taking me away to places no Calgon bath could ever dream of
oh showerhead,
I can barely stand to be out from under your steaming streams~
your warming current of comfort
washing all the days crud off of me
making me feel clean, energized, vibrant and youthful again
ready to face the world or my dreams.
Showerhead,
sediment notwithstanding,
I am happiest when I am with you.
I am a better person.
you make me feel alive again,
and though I have tried to articulate this into meaningful words,
words are unable to express my gratitude, for alas,
you can never know what you mean to me.
Just know that you are the most wonderful and awesome shower i have ever had,
there is none like you.
from the bottom of my sole,
thank you. All my love,
Geegirl
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
'I'll see that plate clean,' she said,
'Or I'll send you straight to bed.'
Liver and onions lie in wait,
two choices up for debate.
'I won't hear a word till you've finished.'
It lay there still undiminished.
It's cold, unfit to eat, congealed,
and nowhere can it be concealed.
'You should have thought of that before.'
When I grow up I'll eat no more
of that cabbage, liver - lousy crud.
Give me sweets and crisps, perhaps rice pud'.
She should have thrown it in the bin.
Now I'm stuck, a locust for my sin.
I must eat all, my waists expanding.
Though Mother's gone, her ghost's demanding.
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
Perhapsingly on Sunday
If the bleak-end hacked for blood
I could take a spin in the old gorevette
Down to Blighton where the vibe is crude,
Where April rolls the coolest blunts
Dreading lilacs and their smoky crud
Of wishfulness. Beyond this extended ketaphor
Only reason spoils the mood.
Having none and wanting more -
A conceit started out so spicely, but finished far from good.
Oh well, I guess. The horror I suppose. The horror.
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 11:04 AM UTC
Lest the gamers forget the petals doused with blood,
Slayers bequeath their chine.
The guidance of wisdom is deemed for crud,
The sparkle of existence lay bare on the line.
Mockingbirds lost their techniques,
Before dipping their feathers in grizzling red.
Their sentiments shut along their broken beaks,
Symphonies out of tune,
Recorded grünes are that of the dead.
Long lasted the gloom of winter,
As if protected by a permanent warrant.
The only bids are that of a sprinter,
Losing his soul for a bribe, or the steams of the first torrent
How loathsome becometh the living, in a world rotten and vile,
Even I don't guarantee forgiving
For that, I'll set my sail and be gone for a while
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
“ Crow “
Whatcha stearin at ye scrawny bird
Ah’ll draped in black en
wi malachite eyes,
Whitcha Feathers in tatters
ah’ll covered in crud
Hoppin en skippin en lookin so wise,
Whydja squawk et mi in that orible way,
Whydja caw en caw en caw et mi
Ahs’tha reely got summat to say
Ah’stha reely got summat to say,
GEERCHA yer self bak up in’te sky
En leave mi alone wi mi beer,
If ye stay round ere
yel end up dead
yon fox el av yer i fear,
yon fox el av yer i fear
so leave mi alone wi mi beer.
Alan nettleton......... + bottle n arf o' whine...
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 7:23 AM UTC
No, I have a ritual.
I turn it over and shake it.
Get all the loose crud out,
then take a paperclip & dredge
the remaining particles of detritus,
The dust can,
preferably with a red straw.
Clorox the tops of the keys,
The sides of them
(scrape, if necessary)
Then dredge the bottom again.
Repeat with the phone, the 10-key.
Blow these actions up,
Apply to thoughts, actions, emotions
Swirl it all down the drain...
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
The floodgates
have opened
and the tide is high
the dam has burst
in explosion
of tear-bombed third eye
saltwater rushes
culling dark demons
from the deep
the most buried
of creatures
awoken from sleep
viperfish and tube worms
vampire squid
twirling their tentacles
to summon the id
squelching up
impulse
from sinkholes of mud
primal instincts excavated
from tombs
of slick crud
Deep-seated fears
have been beckoned to play
to disregard tears
take resistance away
and while blown over
by this twisted abyss
she remembers a flicker
of the shadow of bliss
and like a mermaid rising
up towards surface
blue heights
she grasps at the cirrus
leaking tendrils of light
pulling up hand by hand,
in sea-tangled vine
a vague sense of sweetness
flushes out brine
and when she breaks through
the surface,
her heart like a sieve
she finally owns it-
the power
to
breathe
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 7:22 PM UTC
Our Tractor Man
Our tractor man is doing
What he really likes to do:
Clearing snow.
He suits my mental man-with-plow.
Trading pig and cow
For gear he likes to sit inside;
The tractor hut;
Tranquil woods to clear and saw,
Chop and cut;
Tractor wheel, forest smell,
Alone deciding what to fell.
Muddy potholes in the spring,
Flood and crud his tractor´s thing.
Nicely chubby,
Slightly tubby;
Sixty odd,
His tractor and the woods his God.
I esteem this earthy man
Dharma bound to seasoned stars
That fix the farmer life and plan
Unchangeable and stable.
Our Tractor Man passed away 2016.
Our Tractor Man 3.4.2003 (revised 11.19.2016)
Circling Round Nature; Circling Round Time; Special People, Special Occasions; Birth. Death & In Between II;
Arlene Corwin
our devoted tractor man who plowed our road in the winter.
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 3:11 PM UTC
What happened in your life
To fill you with such hate
Why do you have to ruin
Things that could be great
Whenever you open your mouth
One of two things comes out
Stories of how great you are
Or words that create self doubt
You stab people in the back
And you make them feel like crud
And those are just the people
That you can call your 'bud'
It really baffles me to think
That people like you exist
But what shocks me even more
Is how it constantly persists
No matter what you do or say
You're welcomed with open arms
Its as if you've got everyone
Under several of your charms
Why are you so rude and mean
And how come no one else sees
The horribly, ugly true colors.
Of this person they're trying to please
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 3:23 AM UTC
sometimes it feels like the world is caving in
I can’t breathe
sometimes it feels like
fear’s got a hold on me
I can’t breathe
sometimes I feel like my
shoes are glued
in mud
I can’t breathe
sometimes I feel like utter crud
I can’t breathe
Most days
I forget to remove the crust
Some days I feel like I’m on the cusp
Of losing my innate ability to
breathe
someone remind me
but no one reminds me
*** no one can find me
the one
who can’t breathe
*** all they can see
In me
is a sunshine, partly cloudy day
but I’m grim October
far from the month of May
too far to see me suffocate
I can’t breathe
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 2:27 AM UTC
I slipped away the other day and strolled towards the limelight.
To much dismay and most out of the way, this light it shined too bright.
If I could just get closer, by whatever means how,
I could achieve the spoils of success, and revel in the now.
Advance after advance, success after success,
One would think, naturally, to progress was the key to this mess.
Slowly but surely, my goals marked complete,
Yet these checks on a sheet kept bringing me to my knees.
What lay behind the light - a driving attraction,
Kept me bound and confused, a terrifying reaction.
The struggle to succeed, at least in my mind,
Was a self-perpetuating frenzy of competition against a future place in time.
To fail in a contest against another is but a minor setback.
But to lose the race against oneself is a tragic putrid poison, uneasy to extract.
However, by seeing the nature of this self race, and to resolve to love oneself in hate,
Is to admit defeat of one's own fate and accept a self deprecating loss.
Yet as one succeeds in short, they see the nature of their quest.
These goals I take and win today, I strive without a rest.
To reorient with happiness as the goal, is to accept the love within us all.
In constantly improving, your life stays moving,
But beware this pace, as to much disgrace,
This ambitious race may make you lose face.
To seek and to find is to reap and rewind;
When I succeed in my mind, my dreams they do not subside.
Something is burning, deep down inside,
Quietly yearning for a love lost in time.
As Hyacinth passed up on the one he loved, Rosebud cried in toil and crud.
Caught up in the nature of the game, eluded by fame - yet to oneself, he fell insane.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 5:10 PM UTC
This is a tale of a world reborn,
Beautiful ways of life to form,
After global warming,
Comes an Ice Age dawning,
Then an aeon of floods,
To wash away our crud,
Geographic cycles, yes,
We're all in an age, I guess,
Who shall survive,
Of species still alive?
An ancient Planet Earth,
Always reborn, a vast girth,
This is a tale of a world reborn,
And beautiful ways of life to form!!
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 8:28 PM UTC
The pilgrim's pull ashore....
Strange glass waves smash their feeble ships...
In the meanwhile upon land
In the distant abyss.....
The wildmen dance in song singing....
Ya ha ha-way!
Ya ha ha-way!
Ya ha ha-way!
Ha ha ** ha ha ha-way
Ha ha ** ha ha ha-way...........
Connecting to the creator
Hellion's to sojourner men
Outlandish semblance
Blush maroon colored skin...
Pinna's stitched into costume
As bead's wrap their neck
Efflorescence garbs their smiles
As sage smokes their chest's
Trace bouquet Smell's as oak
As the Willow's they do gather
Pinecones and nut's the both
Are used, eaten, and slathered
Tis
Their friends with the forest
Watchmen of Cimmerian adumbration
Not thy average native
Not found on t.v stations
They follow not the world
Nor the things of material crud
They gallop exposed
All unclothed painted in by the mud
Their mundunugu's and isangoma's
Their healer's of sickened loma's
Their future reader's
And old time Greeter's
They hash up balm pharmaceuticals
And mix in remedy anesthetics
Antibiotic doctors
Believer's in angelic medic
The pioneers come in
Scratching their heads
Bearing babies of far distance
Bringing disease with no end
They park their Vessels on edge
Of those wild men they call beasts
They plant their flag of hatred
And the redskin's are forgiving treat's
The ivory men draws gun
Whilst the natives draw their god
The pale man doth run
This is native land didst the whitened did trod
The natal men's Architect was stronger
Against the real true brutes
As the shaman sent home those foreigners
Back to England and Europe's coupé
As when the bleached beau's had left them
They went into different song
It goes like this
Please don't miss
These are the original's of the law!!!!
They Carol in fire hot dance...
Wee hee nah wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah
Hey **
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 8:51 AM UTC
Gusto affairs spiraled to marooned stairs!!
Amphibious angel,
Where art thou own wings?
Apparent your sanctioning is,
Appointee of marital status!!!
Anthropologist of creations new madness,
Armful arousist!!
Arrogant aspirant!!!!
We are all baggage carriers of used goods,
Bestowed to thy own selves thou ******** of crud!!!!!
Very few bonuses this time around,
For the metropolis hath gone broke and choked!!!
For oil runneth this deliveranth!!!
Bind thy own,
You biggot of brigaded quarters!!!
None to coincide with ,
No cognac love to filleth me with cocoa nestled swifts!!!
Engrossment of shufflers, greasers to seventies sneakers,
Esteemed of high retailer goods!!!
Distinction between euphemisms blame!!!
Highed tops to spindle games,
Atrocious calibrations!!!!
Such tiredness flees the crime felt page,
Who's enraged?
Refute novelties of javahouse breaks,
Wherein assemblers are all members of cafe corner states!!!!
Paxilheads to axlehead drinkers,
Some material like,
Some medicinal thinkers!!!
How much shalt one taketh before his psyche leaves reclusiveness all behind the robust tower!!!!
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
Every morning the first thing
is do the subtraction
washing the body
from head to toe
drain all the crud
excretion
combing to get rid of some fallen hair
then do the addition
shove one capsule after another
down the stomach
when it's getting chilly
and there's no color green in front of you
take some vitamin C
to allow some green herbage
grow in your system
when it's dawn
and the sun keeps bouncing up and down
take some Prozac to reduce
the bumpiness of the road
when i was little
i was like a pill
trying to get into the tummy
the tummy was big and strong
and i was thrown all over the place
now the pill found that i was its rival
and had to tame my raging waves
i began to obey
the pill releases tenderness
and soothes me with a sanguine
emoji
it conducts the music
of the forest glade
inviting the swans
with its verdant melody
and my fingers no longer want
to reach the sky
my eyes choose the tranquility
of a placid lake
i even started liking the sound
of putrefaction that is not of impulse
but of delight in transiency
now i submit to this tiny ruler
mysterious yet earnest
that resides in the horizon
i like the freedom
i don't object to its amiability
nor its autocracy.
Nov 22, 2022
Nov 22, 2022 at 7:51 AM UTC
Impoverished money grubs sit and revel in their ***** suds
liking the flavors of darkly bubbled mud.
From lovely earth, life debt owned,
even if some still believe in this crud.
Hunching ancient patriots hang western flags
and live by the credo provided, and die by what mind remains undecided.
Here, there, and everywhere lies man in the bush as hunters slouch
gun, weapon fist-ted in bruised and trembling hand.
Tis no wonder, what geometry pierces the chest,
thought choice as if it were only peril.
A cardinal sings whilst losing that rose-colored scintillating ring
one more Orion slacks his belt, never.
Stubborn and mostly blinded another shell blows through creature,
in and out his ******* head, a demonic act of high treason.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 12:53 PM UTC
My teeth are smiling back at me
From a glass beside the bed
I wonder "Do they look that bad"
"When they're positioned in my head?"
They looked all kind of cloudy
***** brown, and green
I think I need to change the way
I make my teeth get clean
Right now I use polident
To make my choppers shine
But, if this is the way that they turn out
I'm embarrassed that they're mine
I took them out and washed them off
I stuck them in a glass of bleach
I thought, "This will make them whitey white"
The colours will all leech
Out of my clean choppers
And will brighten up my smile
Then you'll see me from afar
Well, at least a half a mile
I left them for two hours
and they came out brown and green
I thought, they look no better now
They look totally obscene
I even took to painting them
A glorious shade of white
I left them on my workbench
To dry and harden overnight
They still look brown and greeny
Like they were buried in the yard
I swear, I've never had a thing
That's made me work so hard
I cannot put them in my mouth
with out cleaning off the crud
It's looks like I am smiling
With a mouth that's full of mud
I took a pad of wire wool
And scrubbed them like you do
They didn't get much brighter
But, now at least...they're blue
I went down to the chemists
To get something for my teeth
I needed something powerful
To relieve me of my grief
The chemist said "please shut your mouth"
"You're scaring all who passes"
"Your teeth are oh so snowy white"
"The dirt is on your glasses!!"
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 11:05 AM UTC
Folks gather around
Theres a new sheriff in town
Me the one and only
Yosef coming explosives
As land mines keep eyes on one time
Time to shine like im glo mo
Blastin' guns at the temple's
Of the po pos
It dont matter as long as
I see the blood shatter
Make ya dreams shatter
When im on the mic i taster
The beat
Givin' total disaster
Im an F-5 tornado
Rippin' up **** everything is a target
The bars get
More ruthless
Knockin' out ya dentures
Leave ya toothless
Now ya talkin with a lisp
I burn through souls
Like an eclispe
Its total darkness
Make way for the king of the jungle
Born to rumble
So you critics can talk loud
But all i hear is mumbles
They crumbles
Like cookies at best they just rookie
Rest in peace to tookie
I crip walk and blood walk
Cuz we all one blood no crud in my eye
Cuz i never cry
Or laid down got many in a frown
Blink to fast and there will
Be a pistol to crown
Now let me see you smile fools
Talkin' loud but cant talk
With death in yo face
After the paper chase
Naw forget it i *******
Out the best and still couldnt get admitted
To a studio **** the rhymes and the fore play though
Im tryna reach your conscious so
But most stuck on nonsense
Day dreamin' i got the triple beam and
My guns be tag teamin'
Cuz they dont bust solo
So when ya see me holla bolo
So i can break into a cover
No other
Can lay it down quite like me
Im the really only emcee
Left this is my life and death
And if you got beef
Come with it come get it
But it will go stale
Got ya confined in my cell
Therapy
You cant **** with me
Im ghost
Cuz you know ya cant see me
Biaaaaasastch
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 6:34 PM UTC
Can an artist live in a place without hue?
When the celestial cerulean should swirl tenderly overhead
the heavy grey covers all instead
I must paint my canvas with the mud on my shoes-
Caked cracking crud that makes up the place I call home
Where the sun never shows
And the wind always blows
And the crow ever crows
And my mind always slows
From the dulling dank smoky relief filling my doped dome
With the seductive delusions that away
I
have
flown.
To a place where marigolds can color my sun
Where the hills with peridot run
And the rivers swirl in the lively dance
of
Sweetest
Spring
who shall not stoop to show her face.
Not in this place.
Where the people lie
Where the innocent cry
As the rivers run dry
And
inside
I die.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC