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"defeathered" poems
Battle of the two Giants High noon announced the duel of the giants Poetry and Hip Hop gunslinging the date was set One accused the other of ****** the verbal world As poetry sighted the words of Poe, hip hop did hurl "Cant you rock these lame %$# words in slow That dumb %&# Raven needs to be defeathered bro" Poetry stood back and shook his hands down low Reaching for his quilt using hip hop as ink he wrote "The sound of silence is gold when you release your soul, I need to feel the heartbeat of man so go!" Hip hop now breakdancing on the floor Laughed at this poor attempt to show poetrys gold "You call that soul? I see it as a blind man, Using fancy words to hide your fears so grand" As poetry began to write another line 12:00 o clock came up as the sun did shine Both stood back to back drawing their weapons As the countdown to the duel approached like a new son 3 steps forward both rhymers turned about face Two bangs later the smoke cleared both were embraced The two giants knelt to ground their hearts did bleed This time not of words but of blood so clean At the same time both died as they killed each other Why not write about how we are killing one another Black vs White, hip hop vs poetry Same old siht but this time its affecting me
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Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 10:48 AM UTC
Battle of the two Giants
A stranger's name on skeptic tongues A taste like blood and foreboding. The spice of a new kid. Foam bleeds through the teeth of my peers Bile green, it’s words and it’s venom This thing they call “fun". A game played with barbed wire fists, Acid, poison, whips, guns and swords. No rules but they're winning. They called me Bluebird I one short, fat, and sad. Accurate if only I’d fly. Raccoons and kestrels Hunt a bluebird til death. Dear God how I wish I could fly. Once I was Bluebird. Existence encumbered. Stained life released via knife. Witness, you hungry young hunters, The blossom of seeds that you sowed. Bleeding chrysanthemum. I carved my name into my chest, The wings broken and defeathered Of bluebird now red. Peace feels like longing and defeat, But I fly on wings of my own Pray safe from the world.
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Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 7:45 AM UTC
They Called Me Bluebird
out of the hearth of hearts emotion has been fletched, malleable redhot soul sprite sparks and sings with the strike of the beat, meaning nothing more than touch but collisions bring us closer, I guess we’re just impactful : two flights defeathered combined by common ground, given wings entwined- two ores in bated bind, love alligned and nocked the very fingertips that made us holds the rest of our destiny cocked
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Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 3:39 PM UTC
Actionwood