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Jay Dec 2019
Dad...
Eminem. He reminds me of you. Both of y’all ruined your lives at one point, both beat up on the mother of your kids, both neglected your kids at some point, let drugs take over your lives. So many other things you have in common too. But just a few differences; one of you has talent, one of you made a life for yourself, one of you did all the things and regretted that his kids saw it all, one of you I like and look up to. I’ll give you a hint, it ain’t you.
But I started thinking. I love Eminem so much, he is awesome and amazing. Why do I like him so much but I don’t like you? He is rapping his heart out about beating on the mama of his children… and I rap along. I rap along rapping my heart out with the lyrics of his songs. How come I copy his words and not yours? Interesting isn’t it?
I was laying in my bed a few days ago, and I just got done watching Ant-Man. I love Marvel, did you know that? No, OFCOURSE you didn’t. Why? Because you don’t bother to ask. Ever. Maybe I would have a little more respect for you if you did ask. When was the last time you asked me personally what I liked? Marvel, I like Marvel. Ant-Man in particular. Do you know about Ant-Man? Well here is the important parts I am getting at, he went to prison, for stealing a huge amount of money so he can provide for his daughter. People blame the bad guy, but do they ever get to the root of the problem? No.
Do you know what Ant-Man, you and Eminem have in common? You all have a daughter you try to provide for, and you all took the wrong ways. That is what I at least want to believe why you broke probation, for us. Doubt it, probably for drugs. But you know what Eminem and Ant-Man have in common that you don’t? They told the truth to their daughter’s faces about what they did. Eminem is not afraid to tell the world about what he did. Ant-Man is not real, so I can’t compare you to him. Eminem is real. You may be thinking “but he is famous you can’t compare me to him either”, but guess what? He started from dirt and he ended up where he is today.
His mom did nothing for him, I don’t even think he talked about having a dad providing for him. You know what you had? A mom, and a dad. Who put a roof over your head. His mom made him drop out of school to help provide for the home or move out.
You know what is really funny? Why do I know so much about Eminem then I do about my own father? I don’t even know who you are… All I know about you is you have a criminal record, you are somewhere in the southern part of the U.S, and your name is Richard David Lowe. You know that I had to find out your middle name by asking momma. The only thing that I kept holding on to that I knew you liked was Eminem. I remember traveling a long way to see you and then I was SO excited to tell you that I listened to Eminem, Mocking Bird to be exact. Do you remember that?
So, I look up to Eminem, because he is honest… You have so many similarities, but one huge difference. He told the truth…
This is what I wrote for my dad he was recently put back in prison
#dad #prison #life #love #sorry
Continue reading...
Phoenix Feb 2017
Eminem
I like the idea of Slim Shady
Eminem's alter ego
I like the idea because I can relate
I understand

I believe everyone
Has an alter ego
A worse version of themselves
That tears at them from the inside
Even though some people
Don't acknowledge it

Lately
I've been listening to Eminem quite a bit
My favorite song
Is My Darling
Because half way through the song
Eminem fights with his demon

Granted, I've never been in most of the situations
That he dealt with
I've never had an abusive mother
I've never had a drug problem
I've never had an alcohol problem

But I have dealt with inner demons
I hear a dark and angry voice in my head

Eminem fascinates me
He tells his story
Through his words
He expresses his pain
His anger
His love
His hate

When you really think about it
How is rap much different than poetry?
I think it's similar
Rap tells a story
Rap expresses emotions
Rap speaks the artist's truth
That they couldn't say any other way
Rap is a form of slam poetry
In my opinion
The difference is
Rap has a beat

Maybe that's why
Eminem inspires me so much
Maybe it's because I understand the pain
Of hearing the inner demon
Always screaming in your ear
Telling you these lies
Trying to force you into things
Trying to trick you into your old ways

I'm probably not the only one
But I don't really care
Because it doesn't really matter

I will continue to be inspired
About how brutally honest his words are
About how he's not afraid
To say what he thinks
How he's not afraid to tell his story
No matter how hard it may be

Slim Shady fascinates me
Eminem inspires me
And Marshall Mathers understands me
Continue reading...
Maple Mathers May 2016
NOT FINISHED DONT READ YET I SOUND LIKE ADDERALL AND NONSENSE
Marshall is the Only Thing that Mathers: Lessons of Elementary School

When I was in third grade, I found religion.

Well. Kind of.

My older sis brought a CD home one day - "The Eminem Show" - and explained how cool - how popular, rather - it made her. This was news, as the both of us personified the textbook social pariah - we were weird, or something. And kids made sure we knew it.

"Eminem?" I wondered. "Who names themselves after candy?"

Slim Shady did, apparently. Cannibalism, at its prime.

"Duh, stupid idiot! It's spelled differently!" Scoffed my sister. She loved to remind me who was boss; she had a ball making me feel even smaller than she did (I'd assume). A talent amplified by her superior intellect, which isolates her to this day. Back then she could do as she pleased, and I'd readily adapt. She was many thing, but predominantly, she was there. And I adored her for it.

She told me everyone had or knew this music. This Eminem band.

I listened till I could recite every track, verbatim. Captivated instantly.

The very next day, I came to school, ratty and grimy looking as ever (my mother hadn't taught me any different - for, I suppose, she had looked my way but saw only herself. Thus, I frequented the principal's office those days, teacher sent me from class every morning for disrespecting the environment.

Apparently, looking homeless isn't  acceptable - even if you're 9.

Anyways. At least I got to miss class.

Nobody would play with me those days. I had just one friend for all those years. They'd kick me and spit on me, lock me out in the snow, call me Spider.

Typical grade school semantics.

However, that CD was a game changer, I anticipated. Things were different. I knew about Eminem, and since my sister's peers were obsessed, mine would soon be, too. Thus, they'd finally play with me, wouldn't they?

Those were my expectations.

But. Conclusions drawn by a 9-year-old aren't exactly conclusive, it turns out. I approached a handful of children during recess. And promptly, terrified them.

Estatic, I exclaimed, "I'm going to hell! Who's coming with me?!"

I was beaming. For a couple seconds. And then Everyone ran, screaming and crying, yelling back at me with the appropriate intonations for a sewer rat.

I didn't understand why. Baffled nobody percieved my announcement as hysterical. And brilliant.

Yet, I got what I wanted, I suppose. Invisibility negated by taboos and vulnerability; I, the Satan freak, finally became interesting. Interesting enough to be picked on, and bullied.

It was an upgrade at the time.

Though, I had yet to understand why it'd occurred; the quote was hilarious to me. God meant nothing to me - "insulting" the lord, what did that even mean?

How would I know?

Alone, again, I snuck behind a tree and wrote all the lyrics I could recall - it was all okay, cause soon, I'd be home.

And home meant Eminem. Someone I could count on to be there. No matter what.

Funny how those same kids arrived at high school, and learned what a real bully can do. Bullies who never messed with me once, and never would. It's unwise to provoke a bee, you see - especially the queen of the hive. ;)

And laugh it up, but Shady is forever my religion.
Shady is My Religion.
❤️
#hell #religion #eminem #shady #lol #school #bullies #satan #elementary
Continue reading...
Mateuš Conrad May 2020
a devil's decade
. h'america is as much an ideology as is... islam... this... the best... pig-farmed english you could somehow... not teach... not have mustered from a slav... a pseudo-russian... inconvenience ego... contender? satellite pawn: your... *****-slave yugoslav bourbon... excavations of: the lost flood of mongolian: tribe-folk... the pakistani with the surname: khan... your peoples... prior... no-guilt... island strapped... peruvian conquistadors... or... better strapped... less the cerveza folk... more... the belittled sort of: sorting folk... blah blah...

it's honestly hard to write anything -
when one is still... shell-shocked...
fromwhat could be cited as a devil's decade:
13 years...
                 from the age of 21
through to: aged 34...
            one of those relationship remainders...
we both got into smoking...
well... she was well ahead of me
in the cigarette domain...

       no... however i will attire the event...
whatever verbiage...
it doesn't allow a "justice" to trickle down...
it just so happens that i want
to listen to some depeche mode...
and not some tool / porcupine tree...

13 years of smoking... from the nadir of
40 a day... locotomotive breath...
iron on the tongue... phelgm pancakes
harked in the morning from
a tobacco "hangover"...

                  oscilating around 20 per day...
for some time...
and all it took was a week... 10 days...
and i'm still in possession of 3 cigarettes...
and those two i reserve for the end
of the day ritual...
    smoking the first is like:
finding oneself with a belly-full of
a child of gravity...
otherwise: gravity... unless falling...
to look up at the stars and the moon
and the sea: it's something you don't
exactly feel with two feet strapped
to the orb... no movement of
the tectonic plates...
sometimes with *******...
index and middle... of the left hand...
pushed under the right arm-pit...
to feel the pulse of the arteries...

i hardly think this is a call for celebration...
13 years can disappear like...
nothing even took place...
to substitute the habbit with...
reading... playing video games?
nibbling on carrots... nuts...
or just... waiting for the tide to recede...
and for a sea of patience to come
with tomorrow's tide...

all that... and none of it...
at the end of the day... the two cigarettes
are like a metaphor fo crack *******
or syringe strapping imitation
leech...
        clear thinking: or therefore none...
no spaghetti muddles...
at best: imitation of biting into ice...
or... stretching a rubber-band until...
well: you can't feel it about to snap...
since it snaps...

                 a second gravity...
                all concentrated in the stomach...
and esp. when the legs have not been
"properly" used up...
but remain tight-and-fidgety with goosebumps
when the ****** of tobacco lines the nerves...

i don't know why i can't celebrate this...
it's such a private event... such an exslusivity...
after all... in linear fashion:
to experience speed... a concentrated
exploration of space... within a hyper-dictum
of time...
        in a linear way...
but a second gravity: without falling?
but otherwise whirling in the stomach?

a devil's decade: 13 years...
              3 more... otherwise a dozen...
which is only 1 more...
the devil's dozen...
          simon peter, andrew, james, john, philip,
bartholomew, matthew, thomas,
james son of alphaeus, simon the zealot,
judas son of james and judas iscariot...
count hey-zeus out of the equation...
                                               there's paul...

and that's what eminem does...
when rapping... on white h'america?
changes the subject - a personal tirade over...
somehow i too link certain aspects...
13 years of...

this... oh so mediocre...
           because: clearly... i don't know what
to make of it...
                 thank god i retained those
two cigarettes at the end of the day...
than have been hooked on nicorette chewing
gum / patches...
                or the usual "a.a." support...
support: "support":
         help yourself: by every single
and no dead or alive guru...
            
                i really don't have anything
to write...
                 i'm walking away from
a 13 years of tobacco addiction...
   and what i'm really thinking about...
the first thirsts of cold-turkey are long gone...
it's been under a week...
over a week... whatever...

             what i'm really thinking about...
well...
   how would it feel like...
to farm animals...
                  how does it feel to... pet animals...
a completely different dynamic...
after all... a farmer would own...
petting-worth animals...
like a cat... for... catching mice...
or a dog... to... warden... sphynx...
cerberus... watch-over the property...
how some would make the dogs
so ferocious... that a chain would
sometimes not be withstanding
to the ferocity of the barking...

           eh... it's slightly off-putting...
to pet animals...
when you're being given a factory
edit of the original moo!
  or snorkling in knee-deep-**** and mud
and rotten potatoes of pork...
i don't mind... the end product
is what interests me...
the **** is silk? tapeworm ****?!
or there-abouts...
       but... it's so much different...
when you... farm animals...
     lucky for me... my... somewhat...
immediate family still owned a farm...
and chickens in the yard...
oh yeah... catching a chicken is one thing...
amnesia of the chicken shack...
catch one... sure thing...
then with axe onto the stump...
head sticks to the stump...
last traces of life while the eyes roll back
and the tongue protrudes from the beak...
while... all the other chickens gather...
and start drinking the blood...

a bit like the two tiers of people...
some people must feel inclined to become
these... sociopathic farmers...
there are the humans you herd...
there are the humans you pet...
the ones you pet will probably find about
you herding them...
and rebel... since... you're not...
some gargantuan: ****** obvious...
miracle of a god descent... crown, pomp...
circumstance... all that was borrowed
from god... in splendour... heavens!
lo! behold... versailles was built!

the future charles III of england...
started 8pm today... on classic.fm with his own show...
i tuned in for a minute or two to hear
his voice...
      i do hope that when ol' lizzie is dead...
he doesn't cower... he dons! he dons the title:
charles the third!
  i ****** well hope... he doesn't become...
no... he can't become: george VII...
formerly known as charles: the prince of wales!
he has to be! charles the third!
he has waited this long!
he has to retain his name!

but that's the beauty of the monarchy...
it's so ******* pompous and omnipresent...
it doesn't hide... in... secular... grey-matter
of deep-state... there are just too many tiers
of power... even though... there's only symbolism...
but a reverence for it: nonetheless!
grey-matter of shadow-people in grey suits!
blinking: for god's sake! blinking black-holes
of hush hush: what was once...
the aristocracy... that's too replaced with...
the burden of crazed-loon bureaucracy!

i've quit smoking... well... "quit"...
2 cigarettes from 20 a day... circa...
  is much better than a nicorette patch...
         or some: pepperspray tasting chewing gum...
it's not a cigar... if you were asking...

but the original idea...
    farming animals...
             petting animals...
                    dogs... the ideal pets...
i'm sorry... i can't put on a leash or a muzzle...
a chihuahua can bite like a piranha...
i don't see the excuses needed to comfort
people afraid of big dogs... alsatians...
dobermans... that's the freedom allowed with cats...
if you get a chance to build their characters...
they will tend to take a dump in your
neighbour's garden...
yes... me... following sherlock feline...
with a black plastic bag and *****...
permission to... be allowed entry into your garden?
or are you... going to trebuchet that ****
back onto my lawn?

dogs or "petting" tarantulas? serpents?
the idea of petting went out of the window...
when... people started to fathom the...
what adjective?! to pet a ******* tarantula...
yes... me... running to the shop that sells
tarantulas... with caption: free tow-twos...
how about you keep that freak-****
in the jungle with all those gimp-suit sexed-up
antics... and i... get to...
farm a chicken... i get to... farm a pig?

no... of course no... although...
who couldn't be teased with latex jill and her
spider annex: library of "misdeeds"
for the library of: hard-ons...

now that you mentioned it... sure... i have a...
pressing concern... how to not...
over-cook pork...
see... pork is a bit like pasta...
you can serve it undercooked like beef...
but... it's also like chicken...
and beef... combined... you don't want
to serve it... overcooked...
only barbarians are fond of well-done beef...
probably arab...
    they only stomach well-done steaks
or minced beef...
they have no palette for tartare steaks...
too much inbreeding with stinking lamb
does the trick...
whatever they might say of pork...
the aesthetic meat... leather too... shoes and belts...
lamb? for the slaughter?
eh... stinking puritanical meat worthy
of teacher 'ebrew and righteous son:
mecca ibn sudan.

because... ha ha... it's one thing being racist...
you know... detailing the physiognomy
differences between blacks and whites...
choccies and porky pies...
and the cinnamon people in between...
that's one thing...
it's like everyone was asleep...
the whites were racist...
the only people... ever...
but that's one thing...
   i find it harder to digest...
there's no name for it...
  kosher-ism... halal-ism?
         to be... more racist than racist...
almost a vegan / vegetarian taming...
   someone is being critical... of what you eat...
i imagine... malcom x being given a free
pass as a black totem in mecca...
shot dead... when converted... because...
still shuffled pork on the sly...

beside skin deep: please leavde your leather
shoes and belts... lace
beside the concept / concern for the mosque...
racism: morphed into an ideological
manifest...
for a while... let us leave thse
turban and tent dwelling folk
with their newly acquired riches
to the ***** of:
if i am to prepare lamb meat...
i treat it liky chilly...
the meat... stinks of something beside...
death... innocence prescribed...

           you are told... wrong...
when ingesting the fruit of eden... somewhat...
these nomads of quasi-sikh turbans
for the women: the niqab girdle-grooms...
their wetted-appetites:
unable to satiate gyrocentrism leftovers...
and... pass from the living...
toward the theatre of the would be alive...
less the circumcised mess: misantrophes...

it's one thing to be chockie...
another to be porky-pink'ish...
     but what you eat?
that's... somehow... off-putting?
    puritan with some crab-meat
in this numbed jaw?
no one the persians rebelled against
the camel-jockey prescription of:
words only... no images...
pasta squiggles of phonetic encoding...
arabic... tironian a posteriori notations...
then again: one could argue:
tironian a priori notations...

shrimp-**** and eyes that would
resemble... at best... squinting from too much
sun... and at worst... ******* on a lemon...
12" of **** and the twelve-pounder
juicing worth of ***...
her ***...
                for me to comment
on the mongol horde esque libido of
the fellow woman of my race...
no... the islamic idea of a heavenly harem...
mind you: it would satisfy her:
if she was to be crowned the juggling act
of three: at least one to compete with
the da vinci sodomites...

to be told you can't eat something...
i'm already a bad joke as:
"bweetish" as it comes...
tucked away with the afro-saxon...
the anglo-slav...
                 you just have those lips
that look like full-bloom best:
imitation: floral patterns of a ******...
best equipped for *******...
i swim: you sink...
you run... i start an arithmetic of catching
my breath...
the cinnamon people are...
if they are equipped with a polytheism
of the raj... and are saved with
culinary ambitions...
"we'd" call them the blue indians...
and that's also: to mind...
their elder: sanskrit...
              पअरउत
र - or how the englishman lost the trill:
rattle-snake R: for rolling...
when he... became: the nuanced... keeper...
vanguard... of the Raj...
perhaps... the anthropomorphic genesis
in africa: givenz zee apulus... apex: gorrilolulz...
but... the sribbles and *******?
india the basin... akapit: paragraph:
the tear of sri lanka...

i.e. so much for me succumbing to the anglican:
we'z all wo'z allz: ex afri-ka'ka'kazia...

oh sure... sure... we... the sensible:
secular post-christians of the protestant wealth
of the west...
happy to afford the dumbed-down
congregations of the newly conscripted...
believers of africa and south h'america...
carrot dangling: run donkey! run!
one of your own: a pope! a cardinal!
poland is still running on that...
remark of... the passing of power...
the first pope to be given status of... saint...
john paul II the saint of:
kissing airport tarmac...

             and then of course...
the hyped intricacy of the orthodox branch
of the bureau of hierogylphics and
synonymous litanies...
          the events of the baltic sea:
would never be...
the sort of ****-show...
that... the events of the mediterranean sea...
hell... the events of the black sea...
christianity isn't merely dumb...
it's just... over-hyped...
               the pork the pork... the pork!
who would require...
a criticism of pork and pig and ms. porky
to suit... alliance...
no matter... i'm on the cusp of quitting
smoking...

we can caricature our physiognomy...
but... how do you... caricature...
what you eat... your... sustenance?
you, black... have a pillow for a nose...
me, white... have a death's lack of...
           i don't have a nose...
i have... a death's clench sucker...
       i have a pinch nose...
        so much for over-inflated lips...
and... my missing... elongated...
myth elves: the protruding ears...
like: no body...

                 current / the currency of
the now h'america... and the immediacy
of nostalgia: as a history: moving forward /
anywhere but back...
nietzsche opened up a nostalgia for ancient
greece...
  h'americans... opening up... a nostalgia...
for 1950s h'america...
how can you write a future history...
from a stand-point / stand-off...
of nostalgia...
this... immediacy of nostalgia...
who's who and who isn't citing...
a richard brautigan... or... a frank o'hara?!
because: there's the sucker and no punch
for the next verse of...
****'s sake... walt whitman?!
o captain! my... john keating...
                 no... it's not about glorifying
the original intent... mr. president...
the english teacher...
mr.! thomas! bunce!

               how can any history be written...
when there's... a nostalgia: impediment...
the hsitory of an immediacy
lacklutered by a past...
the past: however framed...
before... the dead are allowed to
turn and grovel in their graves...
i have 'ere... my gobble-whick of...
pretending: no shadows will
ever exist... at noon...
scrathing... timidy bed-fellows...
loitering squat...

we are to grovel for the cousin
imps and apes of: first born:
english born... navajo...
     tortilla...
the old fling of england...
and the spanish...
             the conquistadors...
loose nouns dog **** flinging applause:
i fall asleep in a bed:
i welcome the new day...
most... egregious (archaic)...

  these western lands...
mmm... they're not very much akin
to our flavour...
that they dictate... refurbishment...
unless it's para-english...
alter- proto- welsh...
  kashubian... masovian...
silesian...
                    kres...
                    
ei hhynnal coch.. and it:
pronouns neutral: does... ****-wit...
gender-fluid-retardo: perfecto...

and i too wish i had...
themes of crusader songs...
but... i have none...
these that i marked...
teutonic knights of no order...
       barbarossa being pickled...
livonians... prussians...
lithuanians...
                    i'm sorry...
that i'm too far away from
you to return to europe
from your: hubris...
             in crafting... the...
                conscripts: shikhs...
ask the russians! ask the rush-******-whips!
agony of a tongue: beside their own!
the post-colonial powers
return!
the post-colonial powers! make a return!
so much for those of us...
not having... a colonial past!
are we to pay for... such...
benevolent gracing
of gratitude from the people
"made"... under... colonial... rule?!
from the perspective of the strong...
why... am i... expected to treat
these care-bears with...
the right: equipped
manchester shovel?

          you spike my drink
or am i... to... simply...
take the right, godly ****...
into all the urns...
the rest of you are to drink from?

i see my forehead glee: akin to my elbow...
and i call that phenomenon:
something benevolent of *****....
yep... not s'unni... but... shyte...
****.. persian: rebellion of camel-jockey...
****'ite... macron i...
dot's the worthy due: guillotine...
echo of the baltic sea...
we somehow: managed...
to lessen the romance...
unlike the english...
the romans conquered:
romanced the ******...
the vikings conquered...
romanced the ******...
the mongols never made it...
nor the huns..
so much for "brexit":
with your lineage of currency...
and your status as an island...

glory! vistory! ******* and all!
because: best felt!
in... places... akin to... devon!
a londoner will abhor someone...
with origins in the vicinity of bristol...
like... because...
there's no other?

n'ah... this night is pretty much worth
all the other nights...
it's worth sleeping...
it's not worth... whatever: leftover...
"worth" of...
this... this "apparent"...
yep... leftover... be...
something for the worth of yale
h'american... or...
dignitary president...
              officiated cul de sac executive orders...
it's... such an anglo-saxon fetish for...
*** beside the boudoir...
    dodo, lilac... gimp... latex...
      dickens...
                  liberty at:
i feign to allow myself to have... lapsed...
in what? good question...
even i... do not... attempt to baron
myself: over;
pithy... not pity... me...
you god-sucker...
******* ******* son's of eire...
me good-son...
    term me: years! under...
the tsarina! *******...
new yawn-ker...
       big mouth... no new bullseye...
the same old manchester...
the same ol'...
porky pies...
the same ol' chimneys and:
love's all... at cul de sac:
southend... porky pie munch:
luvvie: ol' guv.

yem: yup... ol' groove.. zzz-tizzle...
smart bruiser:
geezer with a sneeze pops up
at random places and jokes...
retards... lobotomy cruiser...
rhymes like... a cockey...
prior... to... tourettes... the lost...
the last... and what's:
the remains of...
the always... last...
and the worst... told... chalk of joke.
se relationship remainders...
we both got into smoking...
well... she was well ahead of me
in the cigarette domain...

       no... however i will attire the event...
whatever verbiage...
it doesn't allow a "justice" to trickle down...
it just so happens that i want
to listen to some depeche mode...
and not some tool / porcupine tree...

13 years of smoking... from the nadir of
40 a day... locotomotive breath...
iron on the tongue... phelgm pancakes
harked in the morning from
a tobacco "hangover"...

                  oscilating around 20 per day...
for some time...
and all it took was a week... 10 days...
and i'm still in possession of 3 cigarettes...
and those two i reserve for the end
of the day ritual...
    smoking the first is like:
finding oneself with a belly-full of
a child of gravity...
otherwise: gravity... unless falling...
to look up at the stars and the moon
and the sea: it's something you don't
exactly feel with two feet strapped
to the orb... no movement of
the tectonic plates...
sometimes with *******...
index and middle... of the left hand...
pushed under the right arm-pit...
to feel the pulse of the arteries...

i hardly think this is a call for celebration...
13 years can disappear like...
nothing even took place...
to substitute the habbit with...
reading... playing video games?
nibbling on carrots... nuts...
or just... waiting for the tide to recede...
and for a sea of patience to come
with tomorrow's tide...

all that... and none of it...
at the end of the day... the two cigarettes
are like a metaphor fo crack *******
or syringe strapping imitation
leech...
        clear thinking: or therefore none...
no spaghetti muddles...
at best: imitation of biting into ice...
or... stretching a rubber-band until...
well: you can't feel it about to snap...
since it snaps...

                 a second gravity...
                all concentrated in the stomach...
and esp. when the legs have not been
"properly" used up...
but remain tight-and-fidgety with goosebumps
when the ****** of tobacco lines the nerves...

i don't know why i can't celebrate this...
it's such a private event... such an exslusivity...
after all... in linear fashion:
to experience speed... a concentrated
exploration of space... within a hyper-dictum
of time...
        in a linear way...
but a second gravity: without falling?
but otherwise whirling in the stomach?

a devil's decade: 13 years...
              3 more... otherwise a dozen...
which is only 1 more...
the devil's dozen...
          simon peter, andrew, james, john, philip,
bartholomew, matthew, thomas,
james son of alphaeus, simon the zealot,
judas son of james and judas iscariot...
count hey-zeus out of the equation...
                                               there's paul...

and that's what eminem does...
when rapping... on white h'america?
changes the subject - a personal tirade over...
somehow i too link certain aspects...
13 years of...

this... oh so mediocre...
           because: clearly... i don't know what
to make of it...
                 thank god i retained those
two cigarettes at the end of the day...
than have been hooked on nicorette chewing
gum / patches...
                or the usual "a.a." support...
support: "support":
         help yourself: by every single
and no dead or alive guru...
            
                i really don't have anything
to write...
                 i'm walking away from
a 13 years of tobacco addiction...
   and what i'm really thinking about...
the first thirsts of cold-turkey are long gone...
it's been under a week...
over a week... whatever...

             what i'm really thinking about...
well...
   how would it feel like...
to farm animals...
                  how does it feel to... pet animals...
a completely different dynamic...
after all... a farmer would own...
petting-worth animals...
like a cat... for... catching mice...
or a dog... to... warden... sphynx...
cerberus... watch-over the property...
how some would make the dogs
so ferocious... that a chain would
sometimes not be withstanding
to the ferocity of the barking...

           eh... it's slightly off-putting...
to pet animals...
when you're being given a factory
edit of the original moo!
  or snorkling in knee-deep-**** and mud
and rotten potatoes of pork...
i don't mind... the end product
is what interests me...
the **** is silk? tapeworm ****?!
or there-abouts...
       but... it's so much different...
when you... farm animals...
     lucky for me... my... somewhat...
immediate family still owned a farm...
and chickens in the yard...
oh yeah... catching a chicken is one thing...
amnesia of the chicken shack...
catch one... sure thing...
then with axe onto the stump...
head sticks to the stump...
last traces of life while the eyes roll back
and the tongue protrudes from the beak...
while... all the other chickens gather...
and start drinking the blood...

a bit like the two tiers of people...
some people must feel inclined to become
these... sociopathic farmers...
there are the humans you herd...
there are the humans you pet...
the ones you pet will probably find about
you herding them...
and rebel... since... you're not...
some gargantuan: ****** obvious...
miracle of a god descent... crown, pomp...
circumstance... all that was borrowed
from god... in splendour... heavens!
lo! behold... versailles was built!

the future charles III of england...
started 8pm today... on classic.fm with his own show...
i tuned in for a minute or two to hear
his voice...
      i do hope that when ol' lizzie is dead...
he doesn't cower... he dons! he dons the title:
charles the third!
  i ****** well hope... he doesn't become...
no... he can't become: george VII...
formerly known as charles: the prince of wales!
he has to be! charles the third!
he has waited this long!
he has to retain his name!

but that's the beauty of the monarchy...
it's so ******* pompous and omnipresent...
it doesn't hide... in... secular... grey-matter
of deep-state... there are just too many tiers
of power... even though... there's only symbolism...
but a reverence for it: nonetheless!
grey-matter of shadow-people in grey suits!
blinking: for god's sake! blinking black-holes
of hush hush: what was once...
the aristocracy... that's too replaced with...
the burden of crazed-loon bureaucracy!

i've quit smoking... well... "quit"...
2 cigarettes from 20 a day... circa...
  is much better than a nicorette patch...
         or some: pepperspray tasting chewing gum...
it's not a cigar... if you were asking...

but the original idea...
    farming animals...
             petting animals...
                    dogs... the ideal pets...
i'm sorry... i can't put on a leash or a muzzle...
a chihuahua can bite like a piranha...
i don't see the excuses needed to comfort
people afraid of big dogs... alsatians...
dobermans... that's the freedom allowed with cats...
if you get a chance to build their characters...
they will tend to take a dump in your
neighbour's garden...
yes... me... following sherlock feline...
with a black plastic bag and *****...
permission to... be allowed entry into your garden?
or are you... going to trebuchet that ****
back onto my lawn?

dogs or "petting" tarantulas? serpents?
the idea of petting went out of the window...
when... people started to fathom the...
what adjective?! to pet a ******* tarantula...
yes... me... running to the shop that sells
tarantulas... with caption: free tow-twos...
how about you keep that freak-****
in the jungle with all those gimp-suit sexed-up
antics... and i... get to...
farm a chicken... i get to... farm a pig?

no... of course no... although...
who couldn't be teased with latex jill and her
spider annex: library of "misdeeds"
for the library of: hard-ons...

now that you mentioned it... sure... i have a...
pressing concern... how to not...
over-cook pork...
see... pork is a bit like pasta...
you can serve it undercooked like beef...
but... it's also like chicken...
and beef... combined... you don't want
to serve it... overcooked...
only barbarians are fond of well-done beef...
probably arab...
    they only stomach well-done steaks
or minced beef...
they have no palette for tartare steaks...
too much inbreeding with stinking lamb
does the trick...
whatever they might say of pork...
the aesthetic meat... leather too... shoes and belts...
lamb? for the slaughter?
eh... stinking puritanical meat worthy
of teacher 'ebrew and righteous son:
mecca ibn sudan.

because... ha ha... it's one thing being racist...
you know... detailing the physiognomy
differences between blacks and whites...
choccies and porky pies...
and the cinnamon people in between...
that's one thing...
it's like everyone was asleep...
the whites were racist...
the only people... ever...
but that's one thing...
   i find it harder to digest...
there's no name for it...
  kosher-ism... halal-ism?
         to be... more racist than racist...
almost a vegan / vegetarian taming...
   someone is being critical... of what you eat...
i imagine... malcom x being given a free
pass as a black totem in mecca...
shot dead... when converted... because...
still shuffled pork on the sly...

beside skin deep: please leavde your leather
shoes and belts... lace
beside the concept / concern for the mosque...
racism: morphed into an ideological
manifest...
for a while... let us leave thse
turban and tent dwelling folk
with their newly acquired riches
to the ***** of:
if i am to prepare lamb meat...
i treat it liky chilly...
the meat... stinks of something beside...
death... innocence prescribed...

           you are told... wrong...
when ingesting the fruit of eden... somewhat...
these nomads of quasi-sikh turbans
for the women: the niqab girdle-grooms...
their wetted-appetites:
unable to satiate gyrocentrism leftovers...
and... pass from the living...
toward the theatre of the would be alive...
less the circumcised mess: misantrophes...

it's one thing to be chockie...
another to be porky-pink'ish...
     but what you eat?
that's... somehow... off-putting?
    puritan with some crab-meat
in this numbed jaw?
no one the persians rebelled against
the camel-jockey prescription of:
words only... no images...
pasta squiggles of phonetic encoding...
arabic... tironian a posteriori notations...
then again: one could argue:
tironian a priori notations...

shrimp-**** and eyes that would
resemble... at best... squinting from too much
sun... and at worst... ******* on a lemon...
12" of **** and the twelve-pounder
juicing worth of ***...
her ***...
                for me to comment
on the mongol horde esque libido of
the fellow woman of my race...
no... the islamic idea of a heavenly harem...
mind you: it would satisfy her:
if she was to be crowned the juggling act
of three: at least one to compete with
the da vinci sodomites...

to be told you can't eat something...
i'm already a bad joke as:
"bweetish" as it comes...
tucked away with the afro-saxon...
the anglo-slav...
                 you just have those lips
that look like full-bloom best:
imitation: floral patterns of a ******...
best equipped for *******...
i swim: you sink...
you run... i start an arithmetic of catching
my breath...
the cinnamon people are...
if they are equipped with a polytheism
of the raj... and are saved with
culinary ambitions...
"we'd" call them the blue indians...
and that's also: to mind...
their elder: sanskrit...
              पअरउत
र - or how the englishman lost the trill:
rattle-snake R: for rolling...
when he... became: the nuanced... keeper...
vanguard... of the Raj...
perhaps... the anthropomorphic genesis
in africa: givenz zee apulus... apex: gorrilolulz...
but... the sribbles and *******?
india the basin... akapit: paragraph:
the tear of sri lanka...

i.e. so much for me succumbing to the anglican:
we'z all wo'z allz: ex afri-ka'ka'kazia...

oh sure... sure... we... the sensible:
secular post-christians of the protestant wealth
of the west...
happy to afford the dumbed-down
congregations of the newly conscripted...
believers of africa and south h'america...
carrot dangling: run donkey! run!
one of your own: a pope! a cardinal!
poland is still running on that...
remark of... the passing of power...
the first pope to be given status of... saint...
john paul II the saint of:
kissing airport tarmac...

             and then of course...
the hyped intricacy of the orthodox branch
of the bureau of hierogylphics and
synonymous litanies...
          the events of the baltic sea:
would never be...
the sort of ****-show...
that... the events of the mediterranean sea...
hell... the events of the black sea...
christianity isn't merely dumb...
it's just... over-hyped...
               the pork the pork... the pork!
who would require...
a criticism of pork and pig and ms. porky
to suit... alliance...
no matter... i'm on the cusp of quitting
smoking...

we can caricature our physiognomy...
but... how do you... caricature...
what you eat... your... sustenance?
you, black... have a pillow for a nose...
me, white... have a death's lack of...
           i don't have a nose...
i have... a death's clench sucker...
       i have a pinch nose...
        so much for over-inflated lips...
and... my missing... elongated...
myth elves: the protruding ears...
like: no body...

                 current / the currency of
the now h'america... and the immediacy
of nostalgia: as a history: moving forward /
anywhere but back...
nietzsche opened up a nostalgia for ancient
greece...
  h'americans... opening up... a nostalgia...
for 1950s h'america...
how can you write a future history...
from a stand-point / stand-off...
of nostalgia...
this... immediacy of nostalgia...
who's who and who isn't citing...
a richard brautigan... or... a frank o'hara?!
because: there's the sucker and no punch
for the next verse of...
****'s sake... walt whitman?!
o captain! my... john keating...
                 no... it's not about glorifying
the original intent... mr. president...
the english teacher...
mr.! thomas! bunce!

               how can any history be written...
when there's... a nostalgia: impediment...
the hsitory of an immediacy
lacklutered by a past...
the past: however framed...
before... the dead are allowed to
turn and grovel in their graves...
i have 'ere... my gobble-whick of...
pretending: no shadows will
ever exist... at noon...
scrathing... timidy bed-fellows...
loitering squat...

we are to grovel for the cousin
imps and apes of: first born:
english born... navajo...
     tortilla...
the old fling of england...
and the spanish...
             the conquistadors...
loose nouns dog **** flinging applause:
i fall asleep in a bed:
i welcome the new day...
most... egregious (archaic)...

  these western lands...
mmm... they're not very much akin
to our flavour...
that they dictate... refurbishment...
unless it's para-english...
alter- proto- welsh...
  kashubian... masovian...
silesian...
                    kres...
             ­       
ei hhynnal coch.. and it:
pronouns neutral: does... ****-wit...
gender-fluid-retardo: perfecto...

and i too wish i had...
themes of crusader songs...
but... i have none...
these that i marked...
teutonic knights of no order...
       barbarossa being pickled...
livonians... prussians...
lithuanians...
                    i'm sorry...
that i'm too far away from
you to return to europe
from your: hubris...
             in crafting... the...
                conscripts: shikhs...
ask the russians! ask the rush-******-whips!
agony of a tongue: beside their own!
the post-colonial powers
return!
the post-colonial powers! make a return!
so much for those of us...
not having... a colonial past!
are we to pay for... such...
benevolent gracing
of gratitude from the people
"made"... under... colonial... rule?!
from the perspective of the strong...
why... am i... expected to treat
these care-bears with...
the right: equipped
manchester shovel?

          you spike my drink
or am i... to... simply...
take the right, godly ****...
into all the urns...
the rest of you are to drink from?

i see my forehead glee: akin to my elbow...
and i call that phenomenon:
something benevolent of *****....
yep... not s'unni... but... shyte...
****.. persian: rebellion of camel-jockey...
****'ite... macron i...
dot's the worthy due: guillotine...
echo of the baltic sea...
we somehow: managed...
to lessen the romance...
unlike the english...
the romans conquered:
romanced the ******...
the vikings conquered...
romanced the ******...
the mongols never made it...
nor the huns..
so much for "brexit":
with your lineage of currency...
and your status as an island...

glory! vistory! ******* and all!
because: best felt!
in... places... akin to... devon!
a londoner will abhor someone...
with origins in the vicinity of bristol...
like... because...
there's no other?

n'ah... this night is pretty much worth
all the other nights...
it's worth sleeping...
it's not worth... whatever: leftover...
"worth" of...
this... this "apparent"...
yep... leftover... be...
something for the worth of yale
h'american... or...
dignitary president...
              officiated cul de sac executive orders...
it's... such an anglo-saxon fetish for...
*** beside the boudoir...
    dodo, lilac... gimp... latex...
      dickens...
                  liberty at:
i feign to allow myself to have... lapsed...
in what? good question...
even i... do not... attempt to baron
myself: over.
Continue reading...
Miss Saitwal Jul 2018
Your's truly, Travelogue.
That workaholic lady who's always on call,
keeping up with the market fall.
That newly married lady with chunky red bangles,
returning to her father's big castles.

That person who's scared to get lapse,
so stays active on the google maps.
That person who swings like a kid at the back door,
Or the one who perform calisthenics on an empty floor.

That next door girl with a red lipstick,
flicking her shinny hair & gossiping with her clique,

That dreamer gazing outside the window,
That overworked soul dozing on his elbow.

That 21st century kid,
listening to Eminem & playing video games.
Or That 90’s kid,
listening to Jenga Boys & playing outdoor games.

That banker with a big fat stomach,
filled with his beautiful wife’s love.
That lady who eats like a thief,
in her big fat bag hiding a beef.

That old man who can’t stand Bombay's winding turns.
That granny spotting & criticing  every fashion trends.
That man who has Raju Rastogi’s concerns,
thinking & chanting for earns & returns.

Those kids who believe their job is to fill the voids in a battlefield,
in the still crowd surpassing like electrons into a magnetic field.

That lady sitting under cold seat like a glacial,
than standing with 7kgs in a crowded central,
& tryna stay sane listening to George Michael.

That geek who switchs from Linkedin to Arjun Reddy,
when the masses flee into the scenery.
That trader crunching numbers so rapidly,
when the stock prices go down hourly.

That person on the last seat,
diagressing from work & gazing around,
soaking in her pashmina, with a career newfound.
#travel #mood #book #confused #trends #workaholic #instagram #mistake #believe #corporate
Continue reading...
James Bradley McCallum Jan 2012
Blue Monday
its a blue Monday
after Super Sunday
Americas 45th funday
yesterdays spectacle

the dip is done
the broken bones
of buffalo wings
fill giant glad bags

the ridged ripples
of broken Doritos
scattered on the floor
wait for a vacuums hum

dead soldiers rattle
a melodious cascade
the aroma of flat Bud
plunge into recycle bins

ribbed Trojans
dripping bagged ****
rim plastic trash cans
confirm an ****'s frenzy

the game forgotten
commercial reveries remain
seared into the briney mush
of compliant olfactories

collective hallucinations
successfully branded
a new and improved
global consciousness

Madmen Shamans
ebulliently channel
transactional zeitgeists
from the ripped boxes of
Best Buy plasma screens

Monday morning
water cool scuttlebutt
the planet is buzzing about...

Google's cool slap
of IPod clad automatons
the vanquishers of IBM's evil empire
Apple's brave new world is next
("meet the new boss,
same as the old boss?")

we all dug
rolling with Eminem
through the glitzy
streets of Motown

How cool is 8 Mile?
The hoods lookin good
angelic chorus lifts spirits
Swing Low Sweet Chrysler

The artistic types
faun over
the graphic beauty
illustrious aestheticism

moving story line
the epic journey
of the worlds
greatest brand

heroic product marketing pros
rival Jason and the Argonauts
sojourning trans-formative odysseys
of clever packaging and fat tail shelf life

holding precious real estate
of living imaginations
infecting hearts and minds
of future generations

realizing
everything
ends better
with coke

The State Farm Pre-Game
Jimmy Johnson's new coiff
jawed away with his old boss
rattlesnake booted Jerry Jones

A poignant embrace captured in
living color on grand jumbo trons
lording over a cavernous palace
a new stadium for Homeboys

Jimmy J asks Jerry J
"Why you overpaid
for The Boys New
Crib?"

"A billion 4,
a palace for the masses".
Jerry breaks some news
with an impish wink.
"No expense is spared
for the peeps."

"I always make out,
get a good return. I
make a profit. Ain't
America great."

This year Super Bowl
went Hollywood
and installed
a long red carpet.

Mike Strahan, collared
Harrison Ford.
Bagging his greatest sack
on a dazzling red rug.

"How many Super Bowls
is this for you?"
Strahan whistles
through his gaped teeth.

The aging Indiana Jones
came to promote his new flick,
"Cowboys and Aliens"
(I'm told an early Cannes
favorite. And it should be. Spoiler alert,
the movie is a moving story of an American tragedy.
Romo blows another one
throwing an interception in overtime.
The Aliens return it 95 yards for a touchdown.
Boy's lose again. America's Team vanquished by bubble headed Martians.
All of Texas weeps.)

Indy
coolly quips an answer
whipping with sarcasm,
"after today, one."
yuck yuck
lol

Strahan continues
to stalk Ford like a
scrambling quarterback,
"where will you be sitting?"

Ford shrugs
"dunno,
somewhere
up-there,
I guess",
he points to
the lofty
luxury boxes.
Royalty sits
next to God
in Jerry Jones
house of the
people.

Ford dons a green scarf.
He's down with the Pack.
Another sunshine *****
in the seat.

Michael Douglas and Zeta Jones
arrive in time to hear
Keith Urban sing
"Who Wouldn't Want to be Me?"

"He's alive
He's free
Who wouldn't
want to be me?"

Indeed who?

The parade
of heroes
continue.

The walking,talking
little S Corp, LLC's
dance their way
into the stadium
on resplendent
cushions of red.

Terrific brands
all earnestly
questing to
urgently
deliver
messages
to promote
themselves
and plug
shameful
products.

A Black Eye Peas
teaser
blinks onto
my giant
flat screen.

Will I Am
a black man
in a blacker mask
marches down the street
zapping people
with a ray gun.
(fascist culture is so cool, a
little light on liberation,
but **** does he look bad as all get out
in that leather rumble don't **** with me
outfit)

Jamie Foxx on the royal carpet leaks
that he yodeled three tunes
at a pregame party for Jerry's Kids;
T Boone and the Big W among them.

Quick cut
to Jamie's
new movie
Rio.
(I wonder if its
about Mexicano's
crossing the river?)

Wealth
Power
the perfect
image of ourselves
take a pill

I am Limitless
a new movie?
I've seen this one before.
I think I'm watching it now.

Just Go With It
Adam *******,
Jennifer Aniston
Americas sweetheart
teamed with Americas
kosher jokester.

He looks hot
in his droopy
pretend
don't give a ****
orange sweatshirt
and acid washed jeans.

Jennifer's ****, legs
what can you say
about America's sweetheart?
I think Brad Pitt
made a big mistake.

Bill O
is next.
Posturing,
arm wrestles
with the Prez,
shadow boxes
with the Big O.

"Muslim Brotherhoods
Rendition
Mubarack goes off the reservation
knows where the bodies are buried"
***!
***!

(Do we really need a dose of Fox Fear?
Is there no escape from the pernicious harangue?
Don't they know its Super Bowl Sunday?)

Bill O's drive by continues,
"Obamacare,
why do Americans hate you?"
Great journalism by this Fox ****.

Bill O is
haughty,
arrogant,
disrespectful
a despicable bully
and a self serving blow hard.

(My bladder is busting.
Its a great time to take a ****.)

We escape to
the freshness
of Owen Wilson's
smiling face,
playing two hand touch.

His bent nose
shining
he trots about
Jerry's field
carefree as a child.
(Is this a pitch, pass and punt
contest for A Listers?)

Other stars
join the light fun;
goose cheerleaders
give the cabana boys
hand-jobs
and themselves
a well earned blow-job.

Its an **** of photo ops
product placement
a sizzling collection
of dancing brands
prancing on the gridiron
of the New Cowboy field.

Ashton Kutcher
peeks over the shoulder
of a tweeting W.
I'm impressed
W knew
how to use
his thumbs.

Mrs. W's
permanent smile
was clearly visible
from the stadiums
cheapest seats.

Condie sat
way to the right
quietly stewing
lamenting
lost opportunities
of a gig as NFL
Commissioner.

On the stadiums floor
the frenetic dancing
of the
bumping
brands
fast
approaches
ecstatic elation.

Hollywood's version of
Whirling Dervishes; is
immediately stilled
as the solemn portion
of the program
commences.

The Declaration of Independence
is read by a bright galaxy of stars
accompanying armed service personnel
and other diligent American's.

"We hold these truths
to be self evident"

"United colonies
levee war,
dissolve bounds,
our day of allegiance
lives, fortunes and sacred honor
freedom is common sense,
free, equal, united"

CEO's
imprisoned
in Jerry's
luxury boxes
overcome
with
emotion
pound fists
on the glass
smearing
cocktail sauce
on the windows
of the suites.

Illegal
Chicano's
bravely
step forward
with rolls
of Bravo
and Windex
to wipe
it clean.

The focal point
of festivities
seismically
shifts like a
tectonic plate
almost as large
as Jerry's Stadium.

The stampede
of cheers
thunder like
canon shots,
the patriotic
ramparts of
militant
free market
capitalism
supplants the
shallow frivolity
of consumer slavery.

We are
compelled
to kneel
to celebrate a
Eucharist of
nationalism.

My partner explodes,
"Can't watch a football game
and view it for what it is,
a ******* football game."

The Fox
broadcasters
dedicate
this segment
of the show
to our military.

I squirm in my seat.
Sorry,
but the declaration is about
free people in free societies
not militarism.

Next up
dis old cowboy
Sam Elliot.
He knows
how to speak
the language
of real football fans.
Finally, a man of the people.

Sam introduced the cities.
He starts with Pittsburgh.

"Built on steel
a place where
terrible is good
these are the
enduring qualities
of this great American City."

The Steelers
make a timely entrance
onto the floor of the stadium,
as millionaires erupt
shaking their terrible towels.

Sam's
fuax
folkism
for
Fox Sports
continued.

"Green Bay is Title Town
the people never quit.
Crafty veterans are winners
exhorting all to greatness"

Images
of Lombardi's
toothy grin
fills my 72 inch screen.
A visitation by
America's Saint,
the sanctifier
of all competition
anoints the proceeding,
the quest to claim
the trophy named
for the games
very own
Archangel
of the
Gridiron.

The extended gig of
Lombardi's ghost
has haunted America
for over half a century;
has reportedly been seen
stalking the stage
on Broadway.

The anointed
Packers sprint
onto the field and
millionaire cheese heads
taking big bites out of life
erupt in cheers.

My hi def wide screen
made by Sharp reports
Battle of Los Angeles
opens 3/11/11.
The Chicago Code
premiers on Fox
sometime in March.

Walter Payton
Man of The Year Award
is presented
to an NFL Player
watching the game
with the troops
in Iraq.

The millionaires
don't cheer,
but the Fox announcers
are verklempt
overcome with patriotism.

Michelle Lee,
star
of Fox'***** show
Glee,
poses in front of a
sanitized choir
in blue uniforms to sing
America the Beautiful.

The beautiful song
is but an opening act
for the musical centerpiece
Star Spangled Banner.

The cameras cut
to a smiling W.
He can't get into Switzerland
but ******, he won't be turned out
of JJ's OK Corral.

Christina Aguilera
takes center stage.
She mounts
the silver football
crowning the
Holy Logo of the NFL
to sing the hallowed
Star Spangled Banner.

She fumbles her lines!
She forgot the rockets red glare!
The Steelers are crying.
The Packers are angry.
Ice melts from the stadiums roof.
The foundations of Jerry Jones
new stadium shakes.

A fly over of 4 fighters in formation
appears to be unaffected by the flub.
The planes do not crash.
They stay in formation.

The pilots spare Christina
a strafing and drone strike.
The republic remains
secure for now.

An unfamiliar announcer
addresses TV land.
He offers an apology to the fans
who cannot be seated.

The fire marshals
have revoked
Jerry's seating plan.
Greed got the better
of this man of the people.
Cowboy Stadium
is overbooked!

What is happening?
Is this America?
An ATT commercial
arrives just in time.

ATT has a new plan for America.
They encourage us to live social
with the new ATT AG.
Free market solutions
always work best.

Michael Douglas
reads another
patriotic exhortation.

"United we,
see the journey
of Acme Packers
as our journey."

"We see the resolve
of US Steel
as our resolve.
Big dreams
believe the best
journeys are
celebrated together."
(I'm down with that.
Whats good for Jerry Jones
is still good for me.
Right On! Check this stadium.
Power to the people!
It may not apply to the people who
will not be seated but tough nuggies.
This is America ******. Everybody
can't be seated at the table.
Even if they paid for their seat.
This ain't Red China.)

Neon Dion and other inductees
into the Football Hall of Fame
tosses the coin.
Steelers' call tails.
Heads it is.

At half time
The Black Eyed Peas
descend from
an upper Valhalla.

Still attired in
black fascist threads
The Righteous Peas
start wailing as
white metallic minions
dressed as
Imperial Storm Troopers
gallop to surround
their idols.

Precise formations
goose steppin bops
choreographic steps
the visceral *****
perfect counter-point
to swabbles of wiggling Peas.

Slash,
Guns and Roses
guitar hero
gunslinger
strode on stage
winging
this gal of mine
in choreographed
unison with
the leggy
Fergie.

Pumping it louder
the spectacle incites
the dancing
Imperial minions
quick steppin
and fetchin it
as Usher descends
in white unison
to leap and dance
over nasty
black peas.

The Gods
are descending
upon us.
Their words
have become
flesh.

The BEP's bleat
"kids are dying
wheres the love?"
Art does mirror life.

The neon hearts
of cheap
glow sticks
light up
the time
of our lives.

We are
cubed box heads
happily dancing along
the 50 yard line
answering China's
resounding drum
of frantic proletarians
bashing away
neocolonial disgrace
during the opening
ceremony of the worlds
greatest Olympian
display of
the pounding will
of an emerging nation
arriving on the world stage
with urgent insistence.

In America
we party on
every night
swiping
revoked
credit cards
for express lane
exits at the
local Walmart.

We are proud
highly personal
bar codes!

We refuse to be
marked down and flung
into discount bins at a
Tupelo Dollar Store.

Our light of life
flashes across screens
directing the trading pits
at the Chicago Board of Trade.

Each Super Bowl Sunday
souper bowl beggars
collect canned soup
for hungry Americans
at the local Shop and Drop

begging for larmen
boxes of Kraft
freeze dried noodles
and cans of Progresso
the feast of kings

A triumph
of the
Will I Am
BOOM BOOM
Says
Will I Am

I finish my bag of
Cool Ranch Doritos
and lick my partners
fingers clean.

Music Selection
Steve Miller,
Livin in the USA


2/7/11
Oakland
jbm
(WIP)
Continue reading...
Nathan Squiers Jul 2014
Write God (lyrical rewrite of Eminem's "Rap God")
Look, I was gonna go easy on you not to hurt your feelings, but I’m only going to get this one chance!
Something’s wrong… I can feel it.
Just a feeling I got, like something’s about to happen… but I don’t know what.
If that means what I think it means, we’re in trouble—big trouble—and if he’s as bananas as you say I’m not taking any chances!

(You are just what the doc ordered)

I’m beginning to feel like a write god (write god).
Can all the readers out there who think I’m right nod, right nod.
Now here I am again for another rap talk, rap talk…
They said I write like a monster, so call me scribe-star,
But for me to write like a beast means I’m a demon at least;
I got a devil kept in my pocket,
On my shoulder’s when I rock it.
Talkin’ of killin’ and of thrillin’; won’t stop it!
Write a demon doorway, now knock on it!
Ever since the dark days when I’d just lost it,
Way back when the world would pace and chant “Nutcase!”
I’m a ******, but I’m charming;
Yes, a crude, rude dude, but I’m still disarming.
Using syllables to **** ‘em all with this
empowering empire of powerful vampires.
The writer-type clackin’ back with typewriters, like way back, right?
Clackity-clack!
Rockin’ stack after stack, clackin’ out more attacks,
Ideas tacked out while hacks hack out their crap (but ******* spew **** all the time),
so I perform written parkour tricks so you’re not bored; strike a chord.
Show you Stryker’s tortured life of suicide ‘n strife turnin’
to strength and a fiery passion burnin’ while readers’ guts are churnin’—
teary eyes all burnin’.
Their fears are returnin’ from a story I turned out when I got turned on
to my own life.
Now I drop F-bombs;
exploding real-life scenes—
these ain’t your G-rated dreams, so take your outdated themes—
It’s the **** I’ve seen; don’t make me obscene.
I’m mean, I mean, it’s my means to screen a scene between a matte sheen.

‘Cause I’m beginning to feel like a write god (write god).
Can all the readers out there who think I’m right nod, right nod.
Now here I am again for another rap talk, rap talk…
They ask me to thaw out these oily blocks called ink-wads, ink-wads.
There’s a body in everybody , but not all bodies have a brain that makes them feel sane.
Like a train—just the same—
Might be runnin’ but we still cast blame,
The loading docks of our thoughts; they’re locked-up in a box,
And they’re stackin’ up like blocks
That turn the stacks to empty tracks (****!)
Trainees blame their brainees when it’s not easy training brains, see?
But the boarding isn’t boring—training brains; not trading pains—
Remember: the station’s self-exploration!
Me? I’m a hodgepodge! From train station to abandoned lodge;
Bully dodgin’, fully locked-in when I freaked out, fattened-up and then I geeked out,
Told “keep it down” but then peaked when I peeked deep down.
Creepin’ up, now, and keepin’ up (WOW!)
I swear it up and tear it up scribbled swords,
And now I wear awards for slingin’ words;
Offered praise; a chance to forget about the craze that once darkened all my days,
But I write that way—say “that’s okay ‘cuz it helps me write this way—each and every day!
And hacks think I act this way just to seem this way, ‘til come the day when the cray-cray takes the doubt away.
Demon obsessed? I’m possessed! Can’t own what you don’t possess!
“Hey, devil-lookin’ boy!”
So ***** for my honey I’m rockin’ horns, look here boy!
A Literary Dark Mass-acre,
Like the devil laid waste to a church on the page, looker boy!
They got a gold star, and a high five,
Felt so alive to see their own scribes make it to Momma’s fridge, ****** boy!
Hey, schnook-ah boy, looky here, looker boy,
I’m held up by The Legion, book-it boy!
Had to push for every word—every page—had to swallow all the rage,
Now you want out of your cage, schnook-ah boy?
I’m legendary—literary—and you’re literally just a *****, little boy!
So sell out while I’m bought out, ******-boy!

‘Cause I’m beginning to feel like a write god (write god).
Can all the readers out there who think I’m right nod, right nod.
The way I’m burnin’ through these pages, call me Dark Lord, Dark Lord!
But they’d rather burn my books, so start a fire war, fire war!
Can’t get it through your head? Words are more than Edward! He’s dead! WORD!
Let me drag you off to meet Dracula; take you back to the dawn of the dark lord, yea?
Fast forward to the foreword where the F-word’s “fangs” (you’re welcome);
This is my Hell, come! Be free!
Part Morningstar; part Morpheus! I throw up a kiss and jot down the kills like they’re red-apple pills.
Go ask Alice back at my palace what you should read to feed your head.
Sentence structure so smooth they call me FE-line, and my cat’s got better plot lines,
That the hacks will all call “sublime” (it’s “sub-fine”)
But me?
My **** scenes are brutal,
And my romance? Not frugal. I don’t saturate—I arrogate—
But I don’t condemn my characters to *******!
I wanna make readers care—if readers dare—
To connect and feel and follow where they can find some hope and power there.
While also giving them a place somewhere that isn’t here—though filled with fear—
A place where they don’t feel jeered or feel weird.
Horror ain’t just movie monsters, or gore-****** scopin’ sponsors!
You speak French? C’est de la merde, monsieur!
You look unsure! But I have the cure in the written word!
And though you once were achin’ for a rockstar author cravin’ bacon,
The role has since been taken by your man, Squiers.
And like a pair of pliers, I can reach into readers’ brains and cross all sorts of wires!
I’m settin’ cranial fires behind the eyes of all my buyers!
And while I’m growing Ghost Riders—ridin’ shotgun on the bullet-train ‘tween the pages—
There’s a horde of haters harboring growing rages
With a narrow gaze of who scribes pages.
They say I can’t write ‘cuz of my tattoos or my gauges
So allow me to assuage this: y’all can’t cage this!
If you don’t like it, let me show you where the grave is!
You’re well-aged, but I’m ageless!
Like the undead through the ages!
And like Shakespeare took to stages you can find me where the page is:
I’m hip to a script, I’m at home with a poem and feeling groovy writin’ movies; and I’ll be EZ on your TV.
You write normal? **** being normal!
What a novel theory! So very dreary!
Why the **** are they so leery, they say “Writing fear? We don’t want to hurt no feelings.”
Feelings? Setting up ceilings! Just more limits! It’s life! Live it!
Set the roof on fire!
Plot is getting hotter than a 24/7 squatter on a ***** channel!
So what if some **** gets a hair up ‘er ****? Don’t make it ****!
They wanna say “Hey you, we’re here to stifle!”
‘Cuz I mentioned rifles? Do they really want to trifle?
So I say:
“Better bring a sweater ‘cuz this thriller’s gonna chill ya—sure hope it doesn’t **** ya—and ya gonna get’a fill o’ all the ***** that I don’t give, ‘cuz I don’t live to let ******* quip or give me lip about my lit.
I’m entertaining and elating and also demonstrating how devastating a stream of escalating scenes can be so penetrating—although frustrating—to a mind that’s celebrating what it means to be vacationing between the pages; wading through the stages of a war that forever wages; meditating through the escalations now that they know what TRUE rage is!
“Oh, he’s too ******!”
That’s right! Ain’t right. That’s life: not nice; it’s strife.
It’s not just me; it’s we.
I just found a better way to show it:
Monsters that aren’t monsters;
Abuse put to good use; bred virtues!
“I don’t know how to plot plots like that;
I don’t know what words to use.”
Did it really never occur to them that to read a book—just to take a look—and THEN take up the pen?
You read King if you want to be king, strictly speaking.
A writing mind that isn’t a reading mind is a weakling; a weak link.
I’m a scholar—not a bawler—so I’m a flyer where there’s fallers;
Raised on Goosebumps and Creepy Crawlers so I’d Stine while others whined.
Got a dark side, but that’s The Dark Side on my side; counter haters with my Vader:
“I would be your father… but your dog beat me over the fence.”
No offense. Pretense: incorporate comedy and film; common sense.
Suicide pushed aside, though I still burn inside. **** myself on
the page each day so my readers can feel what it’s like to be alive.
It’s okay to hide.
Only your own devil knows what’s inside.
I own mine; he’s my co-pilot when I write. My demonic side; my demonic scribe.
Flipping my words to the birds—‘cuz, you see, that’s how I wing it—and flipping the bird while I throw down and sing it:
“Tiger, Tiger, burning bright,
My words are my roar and tonight I write!”
The fights are in your sights like you were seated inside a movie theater;
You’d see Xander and Estella—wouldn’t you want to meet her—
Have a front row to the creatures in a feature presentation…
But ‘til then
Eat some Rice An’ read a piece by a man who
Had an “Interview with a Vampire”—
I’m a fiction author, why would I lie to ya?
Prince of lies? I ain’t Satan!
Close friends, but I’m Nathan.
Judged for appraisal—I’m priceless—I’m  nice: no; charming: yes.
Got a razor-sharp and Shining wit like a crown left
on a King… but not.
Why be a left king, when I’m a write god.
So I did a lyrical re-write of Eminem's "Just Lose It" that wound up being pretty popular, so when I heard "Rap God" for the first time I knew I had to do the same. While I hope it's entertaining on its own, I think those who have heard the song will enjoy that I remained true to the source material in terms of flow, rhythm, and syllable count (Marshall Mathers is really quite an astounding wordsmith in his lyrical writings).

Hope you enjoy ^_^
#funny #eminem #rap #lyrics #writing #song #write #author #rewrite #marshal
Continue reading...
Matt Carter Nov 2015
Eminem
Eminem
Slim Shady
Marshall Mathers
All names of my
favorite music artist
of all time.
Spits a rhyme so
great you would think it's
poetry. Songs
that make you laugh
get you pumped up
make you think
make you cry.
#eminem #music
Continue reading...
Bunhead17 Nov 2013
Love The Way You Lie
[Intro - Rihanna:]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

[Verse - Eminem:]
I can't tell you what it really is
I can only tell you what it feels like
And right now it's a steel knife in my windpipe
I can't breathe but I still fight while I can fight
As long as the wrong feels right it's like I'm in flight
High off a love, drunk from my hate,
It's like I'm huffing paint and I love it the more I suffer, I suffocate
And right before I'm about to drown, she resuscitates me
She ******* hates me and I love it.
Wait! Where you going?
"I'm leaving you!"
No you ain't. Come back we're running right back.
Here we go again
It's so insane cause when it's going good, it's going great
I'm Superman with the wind at his back, she's Lois Lane
But when it's bad it's awful, I feel so ashamed I snapped
Who's that dude?
"I don't even know his name."
I laid hands on her, I'll never stoop so low again
I guess I don't know my own strength

[Chorus - Rihanna:]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

[Verse - Eminem:]
You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe when you're with 'em
You meet and neither one of you even know what hit 'em
Got that warm fuzzy feeling
Yeah, them chills you used to get 'em
Now you're getting ******* sick of looking at 'em
You swore you'd never hit 'em; never do nothing to hurt 'em
Now you're in each other's face spewing venom in your words when you spit them
You push, pull each other's hair, scratch, claw, bit 'em
Throw 'em down, pin 'em
So lost in the moments when you're in them
It's the rage that took over it controls you both
So they say you're best to go your separate ways
Guess that they don't know you 'cause today that was yesterday
Yesterday is over, it's a different day
Sound like broken records playing over but you promised her
Next time you show restraint
You don't get another chance
Life is no Nintendo game
But you lied again
Now you get to watch her leave out the window
Guess that's why they call it window "pain"

[Chorus - Rihanna:]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

[Verse - Eminem:]
Now I know we said things, did things that we didn't mean
And we fall back into the same patterns, same routine
But your temper's just as bad as mine is
You're the same as me
But when it comes to love you're just as blinded
Baby, please come back
It wasn't you, baby it was me
Maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems
Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano
All I know is I love you too much to walk away though
Come inside, pick up your bags off the sidewalk
Don't you hear sincerity in my voice when I talk
Told you this is my fault
Look me in the eyeball
Next time I'm ******, I'll lay my fist at the drywall
Next time? There will be no next time!
I apologize even though I know its lies
I'm tired of the games I just want her back
I know I'm a liar
If she ever tries to ******* leave again
Im'a tie her to the bed and set this house on fire
I'm just gonna

[Outro - Rihanna:]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
lyrics "love the way you lie" by Eminem ft Rihanna #International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women Awareness (11/25/13) #Stop using your strength to Abusing women (This goes out to all the men!) :D
Continue reading...
Riot Apr 2014
stereotype (Eminem)
we can all pretend we’re perfect
that church ain't worth it
that drugs and alcohol make us worthy
wait
worthy of what a debate?
so what’s on your plate?
nothing but emptiness and hate
and that’s great
at least i know why you treat me this way
so here’s to saying i’m no different
drugs and alcohol
i’m with them
and i can’t change even if i tried
but wait
what do i have to change
you don’t even know me
but you pretend i’m the only one who’s gone through the worst
me?
i’m flattered but
you see
i’m just a stereotype
trying to get past
but i get beat down by the headlights
i’m a drive by
trying to drive by my future
but i can’t
because my past is trying to tell me that i’m horrible
but i can’t
i can’t stand that people try to tell me who i am
i can’t stand that i’m horrible
for telling you who i am
and on land
i’m a bad influence
but in water
i’m the man
you don’t understand
that i’m a fish trying to find it’s way in the ocean
and those mistakes
are just my gills
i breathe them in and stop breathing
because someone is always pulling me out of water
it’s like the Mexican border
Protected by what's within
it’s a sin
for me to be where i’m supposed to be
but see
it’s not me
it’s the stereotype
and its trickery
it makes you think that you know me
but what you don’t see
THAT’S NOT THE WORST THING THAT’S HAPPENED TO ME
so let me be
let me speak
i have to get it out of me
that hate in my gills shouldn't be there when i breathe
so go ahead and stereotype
but i’m not the only one who has to get something off my chest
but i’m the best
because I've made it through every test
and though you think you can bring me down
I've made it through every test
**so let me speak before you think i’m just the same as the rest
Continue reading...
James Bradley McCallum Jan 2014
Blue Monday (After Superbowl Sunday) Again
its a blue Monday
after Super Sunday
Americas 45th funday
yesterdays spectacle

the dip is done
the broken bones
of buffalo wings
fill giant glad bags

the ridged ripples
of broken Doritos
scattered on the floor
wait for a vacuums hum

dead soldiers rattle
a melodious cascade
the aroma of flat Bud
plunge into recycle bins

ribbed Trojans
dripping bagged ****
rim plastic trash cans
confirm an ****'s frenzy

the game forgotten
commercial reveries remain
seared into the briney mush
of compliant olfactories

collective hallucinations
successfully branded
a new and improved
global consciousness

Madmen Shamans
ebulliently channel
transactional zeitgeists
from the ripped boxes of
Best Buy plasma screens

Monday morning
water cool scuttlebutt
the planet is buzzing about...

Google's cool slap
of iPod clad automatons
the vanquishers of IBM's evil empire
Apple's brave new world is next
("meet the new boss,
same as the old boss?")

we all dug
rolling with Eminem
through the glitzy
streets of Motown

How cool is 8 Mile?
The hoods lookin good
angelic chorus lifts spirits
Swing Low Sweet Chrysler

The artistic types
faun over
the graphic beauty
illustrious aestheticism

moving story line
the epic journey
of the worlds
greatest brand

heroic product marketing pros
rival Jason and the Argonauts
sojourning trans-formative odysseys
of clever packaging and fat tail shelf life

holding precious real estate
of living imaginations
infecting hearts and minds
of future generations

realizing
everything
ends better
with coke

The State Farm Pre-Game
Jimmy Johnson's new coif
jawed away with his old boss
rattlesnake booted Jerry Jones

A poignant embrace captured in
living color on grand jumbo trons
lording over a cavernous palace
a new stadium for Homeboys

Jimmy J asks Jerry J
"Why you overpaid
for The Boys New
Crib?"

"A billion 4,
a palace for the masses".
Jerry breaks some news
with an impish wink.
"No expense is spared
for the peeps."

"I always make out,
get a good return. I
make a profit. Ain't
America great."

This year Super Bowl
went Hollywood
and installed
a long red carpet.

Mike Strahan, collared
Harrison Ford.
Bagging his greatest sack
on a dazzling red rug.

"How many Super Bowls
is this for you?"
Strahan whistles
through his gaped teeth.

The aging Indiana Jones
came to promote his new flick,
"Cowboys and Aliens"
(I'm told an early Cannes
favorite. And it should be. Spoiler alert,
the movie is a moving story of an American tragedy.
Romo blows another one
throwing an interception in overtime.
The Aliens return it 95 yards for a touchdown.
Boy's lose again. America's Team vanquished by bubble headed Martians.
All of Texas weeps.)

Indy
coolly quips an answer
whipping with sarcasm,
"after today, one."
yuck yuck
lol

Strahan continues
to stalk Ford like a
scrambling quarterback,
"where will you be sitting?"

Ford shrugs
"dunno,
somewhere
up-there,
I guess",
he points to
the lofty
luxury boxes.
Royalty sits
next to God
in Jerry Jones
house of the
people.

Ford dons a green scarf.
He's down with the Pack.
Another sunshine *****
in the seat.

Michael Douglas and Zeta Jones
arrive in time to hear
Keith Urban sing
"Who Wouldn't Want to be Me?"

"He's alive
He's free
Who wouldn't
want to be me?"

Indeed who?

The parade
of heroes
continue.

The walking,talking
little S Corp, LLC's
dance their way
into the stadium
on resplendent
cushions of red.

Terrific brands
all earnestly
questing to
urgently
deliver
messages
to promote
themselves
and plug
shameful
products.

A Black Eye Peas
teaser
blinks onto
my giant
flat screen.

Will I Am
a black man
in a blacker mask
marches down the street
zapping people
with a ray gun.
(fascist culture is so cool, a
little light on liberation,
but **** does he look bad as all get out
in that leather rumble don't **** with me
outfit)

Jamie Foxx on the royal carpet leaks
that he yodeled three tunes
at a pregame party for Jerry's Kids;
T Boone and the Big W among them.

Quick cut
to Jamie's
new movie
Rio.
(I wonder if its
about Mexicano's
crossing the river?)

Wealth
Power
the perfect
image of ourselves
take a pill

I am Limitless
a new movie?
I've seen this one before.
I think I'm watching it now.

Just Go With It
Adam *******,
Jennifer Aniston
Americas sweetheart
teamed with Americas
kosher jokester.

He looks hot
in his droopy
pretend
don't give a ****
orange sweatshirt
and acid washed jeans.

Jennifer's ****, legs
what can you say
about America's sweetheart?
I think Brad Pitt
made a big mistake.

Bill O
is next.
Posturing,
arm wrestles
with the Prez,
shadow boxes
with the Big O.

"Muslim Brotherhoods
Rendition
Mubarack goes off the reservation
knows where the bodies are buried"
***!
***!

(Do we really need a dose of Fox Fear?
Is there no escape from the pernicious harangue?
Don't they know its Super Bowl Sunday?)

Bill O's drive by continues,
"Obamacare,
why do Americans hate you?"
Great journalism by this Fox ****.

Bill O is
haughty,
arrogant,
disrespectful
a despicable bully
and a self serving blow hard.

(My bladder is busting.
Its a great time to take a ****.)

We escape to
the freshness
of Owen Wilson's
smiling face,
playing two hand touch.

His bent nose
shining
he trots about
Jerry's field
carefree as a child.
(Is this a pitch, pass and punt
contest for A Listers?)

Other stars
join the light fun;
goose cheerleaders
give the cabana boys
hand-jobs
and themselves
a well earned blow-job.

Its an **** of photo ops
product placement
a sizzling collection
of dancing brands
prancing on the gridiron
of the New Cowboy field.

Ashton Kutcher
peeks over the shoulder
of a tweeting W.
I'm impressed
W knew
how to use
his thumbs.

Mrs. W's
permanent smile
was clearly visible
from the stadiums
cheapest seats.

Condie sat
way to the right
quietly stewing
lamenting
lost opportunities
of a gig as NFL
Commissioner.

On the stadiums floor
the frenetic dancing
of the
bumping
brands
fast
approaches
ecstatic elation.

Hollywood's version of
Whirling Dervishes; is
immediately stilled
as the solemn portion
of the program
commences.

The Declaration of Independence
is read by a bright galaxy of stars
accompanying armed service personnel
and other diligent American's.

"We hold these truths
to be self evident"

"United colonies
levee war,
dissolve bounds,
our day of allegiance
lives, fortunes and sacred honor
freedom is common sense,
free, equal, united"

CEO's
imprisoned
in Jerry's
luxury boxes
overcome
with
emotion
pound fists
on the glass
smearing
cocktail sauce
on the windows
of the suites.

Illegal
Chicano's
bravely
step forward
with rolls
of Bravo
and Windex
to wipe
it clean.

The focal point
of festivities
seismically
shifts like a
tectonic plate
almost as large
as Jerry's Stadium.

The stampede
of cheers
thunder like
canon shots,
the patriotic
ramparts of
militant
free market
capitalism
supplants the
shallow frivolity
of consumer slavery.

We are
compelled
to kneel
to celebrate a
Eucharist of
nationalism.

My partner explodes,
"Can't watch a football game
and view it for what it is,
a ******* football game."

The Fox
broadcasters
dedicate
this segment
of the show
to our military.

I squirm in my seat.
Sorry,
but the declaration is about
free people in free societies
not militarism.

Next up
dis old cowboy
Sam Elliot.
He knows
how to speak
the language
of real football fans.
Finally, a man of the people.

Sam introduced the cities.
He starts with Pittsburgh.

"Built on steel
a place where
terrible is good
these are the
enduring qualities
of this great American City."

The Steelers
make a timely entrance
onto the floor of the stadium,
as millionaires erupt
shaking their terrible towels.

Sam's
fuax
folkism
for
Fox Sports
continued.

"Green Bay is Title Town
the people never quit.
Crafty veterans are winners
exhorting all to greatness"

Images
of Lombardi's
toothy grin
fills my 72 inch screen.
A visitation by
America's Saint,
the sanctifier
of all competition
anoints the proceeding,
the quest to claim
the trophy named
for the games
very own
Archangel
of the
Gridiron.

The extended gig of
Lombardi's ghost
has haunted America
for over half a century;
has reportedly been seen
stalking the stage
on Broadway.

The anointed
Packers sprint
onto the field and
millionaire cheese heads
taking big bites out of life
erupt in cheers.

My hi def wide screen
made by Sharp reports
Battle of Los Angeles
opens 3/11/11.
The Chicago Code
premiers on Fox
sometime in March.

Walter Payton
Man of The Year Award
is presented
to an NFL Player
watching the game
with the troops
in Iraq.

The millionaires
don't cheer,
but the Fox announcers
are verklempt
overcome with patriotism.

Michelle Lee,
star
of Fox'***** show
Glee,
poses in front of a
sanitized choir
in blue uniforms to sing
America the Beautiful.

The beautiful song
is but an opening act
for the musical centerpiece
Star Spangled Banner.

The cameras cut
to a smiling W.
He can't get into Switzerland
but ******, he won't be turned out
of JJ's OK Corral.

Christina Aguilera
takes center stage.
She mounts
the silver football
crowning the
Holy Logo of the NFL
to sing the hallowed
Star Spangled Banner.

She fumbles her lines!
She forgot the rockets red glare!
The Steelers are crying.
The Packers are angry.
Ice melts from the stadiums roof.
The foundations of Jerry Jones
new stadium shakes.

A fly over of 4 fighters in formation
appears to be unaffected by the flub.
The planes do not crash.
They stay in formation.

The pilots spare Christina
a strafing and drone strike.
The republic remains
secure for now.

An unfamiliar announcer
addresses TV land.
He offers an apology to the fans
who cannot be seated.

The fire marshals
have revoked
Jerry's seating plan.
Greed got the better
of this man of the people.
Cowboy Stadium
is overbooked!

What is happening?
Is this America?
An ATT commercial
arrives just in time.

ATT has a new plan for America.
They encourage us to live social
with the new ATT AG.
Free market solutions
always work best.

Michael Douglas
reads another
patriotic exhortation.

"United we,
see the journey
of Acme Packers
as our journey."

"We see the resolve
of US Steel
as our resolve.
Big dreams
believe the best
journeys are
celebrated together."
(I'm down with that.
Whats good for Jerry Jones
is still good for me.
Right On! Check this stadium.
Power to the people!
It may not apply to the people who
will not be seated but tough nuggies.
This is America ******. Everybody
can't be seated at the table.
Even if they paid for their seat.
This ain't Red China.)

Neon Dion and other inductees
into the Football Hall of Fame
tosses the coin.
Steelers' call tails.
Heads it is.

At half time
The Black Eyed Peas
descend from
an upper Valhalla.

Still attired in
black fascist threads
The Righteous Peas
start wailing as
white metallic minions
dressed as
Imperial Storm Troopers
gallop to surround
their idols.

Precise formations
goose steppin bops
choreographic steps
the visceral *****
perfect counter-point
to swabbles of wiggling Peas.

Slash,
Guns and Roses
guitar hero
gunslinger
strode on stage
winging
this gal of mine
in choreographed
unison with
the leggy
Fergie.

Pumping it louder
the spectacle incites
the dancing
Imperial minions
quick steppin
and fetchin it
as Usher descends
in white unison
to leap and dance
over nasty
black peas.

The Gods
are descending
upon us.
Their words
have become
flesh.

The BEP's bleat
"kids are dying
wheres the love?"
Art does mirror life.

The neon hearts
of cheap
glow sticks
light up
the time
of our lives.

We are
cubed box heads
happily dancing along
the 50 yard line
answering China's
resounding drum
of frantic proletarians
bashing away
neocolonial disgrace
during the opening
ceremony of the worlds
greatest Olympian
display of
the pounding will
of an emerging nation
arriving on the world stage
with urgent insistence.

In America
we party on
every night
swiping
revoked
credit cards
for express lane
exits at the
local Walmart.

We are proud
highly personal
bar codes!

We refuse to be
marked down and flung
into discount bins at a
Tupelo Dollar Store.

Our light of life
flashes across screens
directing the trading pits
at the Chicago Board of Trade.

Each Super Bowl Sunday
souper bowl beggars
collect canned soup
for hungry Americans
at the local Shop and Drop

begging for larmen
boxes of Kraft
freeze dried noodles
and cans of Progresso
the feast of kings

A triumph
of the
Will I Am
BOOM BOOM
Says
Will I Am

I finish my bag of
Cool Ranch Doritos
and lick my partners
fingers clean.

You Tube Music Video:
Black Eyed Peas
Joints and Jam

2/7/11
Oakland
jbm
(WIP)
Continue reading...
Bunhead17 Nov 2013
Control
[Intro: Big Sean]
I look up
Yeah and I take my time, *****
I'mma take my time, whoa
Power moves only, *****

[Verse 1: Big Sean]
Boy I'm 'bout my business on business, I drink liquor on liquor
I had women on women, yeah that's bunk bed *******
I've done lived more than an eighty year old man still kickin'
Cause they live for some moments, and I live for a livin'
But this for the girls who barely let me get to first base
On some ground ball ****
Cause now I run my city on some town hall ****
They prayin' on my *******' downfall *****, like a drought, but
You gon' get this rain like it's May weather
G.O.O.D. Music, Ye weather
Champagne just tastes better
They told me I never boy, never say never
Swear flow special like an infant's first steps
I got paid then reversed debts
Then I finally found a girl that reverse stress
So now I'm talkin' to the reaper to reverse death
Yep, so I can kick it with my granddad, take him for a ride
Show him I made somethin' out myself and not just tried
Show him the house I bought the fam, let him tour inside
No matter how far ahead I get, I always feel behind
In my mind, but **** tryin' and not doin'
Cause not doin' is somethin' a ***** not doin'
I said **** tryin' and not doin'
Cause not doin' is somethin' a ***** not doin'
I grew up to Em, B.I.G. and Pac *****, and got ruined
So until I got the same crib B.I.G. had in that Juicy vid
*****, I can't *******' stop movin'
Go against me, you won't stop losin'
From the city where every month is May-Day at home, spray your dome
****** get sprayed up like AK was cologne for a paycheck or loan
Yeah I know that **** ain't fair
They say Detroit ain't got a chance, we ain't even got a mayor
You write your name with a Sharpie, I write mine in stone
I knew the world was for the taking and wouldn't take long
We on, tryna be better than everybody that's better than everybody
Rep Detroit, everybody, Detroit versus everybody
I'm so ******' first class, I could spit up on every pilot
The city's my Metropolis, feel it, it's metabolic
And I'm over ****** sayin' they're the hottest ******
Then run to the hottest ****** just to stay hot
I'm one of the hottest because I flame drop
Drop fire, and not because I'm name dropping, Hall of Fame droppin'
And I ain't takin' **** from nobody unless they're OG's
Cause that ain't the way of a OG
So I G-O collect more G's, every dollar
Never changed though, I'm just the new version of old me
Forever hot headed but never got cold feet
Got up in the game won't look back at my old seats
Clique so deep we take up the whole street
I need a ***** so bad that she take up my whole week, Sean Don

[Bridge: Kendrick Lamar]
Miscellaneous minds are never explainin' their minds
Devilish grin for my alias aliens to respond
Peddlin' sin, thinkin' maybe when you get old you realize
I'm not gonna fold or demise
(I don't smoke crack, ******* I sell it!)
*****, everything I rap is a quarter piece to your melon
So if you have a relapse, just relax and pop in my disc
Don't you pop me no ******* pill, I'mma a pop you and give you this

[Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar]
Tell Flex to drop a bomb on this ****
So many bombs, ring the alarm like Vietnam on this ****
So many bombs, make Farrakhan think that Saddam in this *****
One at a time, I line them up
And bomb on they mom while she watching the kids
I'm in a destruction mode if the gold exists
I'm important like the Pope, I'm a Muslim on pork
I'm Makaveli's offspring, I'm the king of New York
King of the Coast, one hand, I juggle them both
The juggernaut's all in your jugular, you take me for jokes
Live in the basement, church pews and funeral faces
Cartier bracelets for my women friends, I'm in Vegas
Who the **** y'all thought it's supposed to be?
If Phil Jackson came back, still no coachin' me
I'm uncoachable, I'm unsociable, **** y'all clubs
**** y'all pictures, your Instagram can gobble these nuts
Gobble **** up til you hiccup, my big homie Kurupt
This the same flow that put the rap game on a crutch (West x6)
I've seen ****** transform like villain Decepticons
Mollies'll prolly turn these ****** to ******* Lindsay Lohan
A bunch of rich *** white girls looking for parties
Playing with Barbies, wreck the Porsche before you give them the car key
Judgment to the monarchy, blessings to Paul McCartney
You called me a black Beatle, I'm either that or a Marley
(I don't smoke crack, *******, I sell it)
I'm dressed in all black, this is not for the fan of Elvis
I'm aiming straight for your pelvis, you can't stomach me
You plan on stumpin' me? ***** I’ve been jumped before you put a gun on me
***** I put one on yours, I'm Sean Connery
James Bonding with none of you ******, climbing 100 mil in front of me
And I'm gonna get it even if you're in the way
And if you're in it, better run for Pete's sake
I heard the barbershops be in great debates all the time
Bout who's the best MC? Kendrick, Jigga and Nas
Eminem, Andre 3000, the rest of y'all
New ****** just new ******, don't get involved
And I ain't rocking no more designer ****
White T’s and Nike Cortez, this red Corvettes anonymous
I'm usually homeboys with the same ****** I'm rhymin' with
But this is hip-hop and them ****** should know what time it is
And that goes for Jermaine Cole, Big KRIT, Wale
Pusha T, Meek Millz, A$AP Rocky, Drake
Big Sean, Jay Electron', Tyler, Mac Miller
I got love for you all but I'm tryna ****** you ******
Trying to make sure your core fans never heard of you ******
They don't wanna hear not one more noun or verb from you ******
What is competition? I'm trying to raise the bar high
Who tryna jump and get it? You're better off trying to skydive
Out the exit window of 5 G5’s with 5 grand
With your granddad as the pilot he drunk as **** trying land
With the hand full of arthritis and popping prosthetic leg
Bumpin Pac in the cockpit so the **** that pops in his head
Is an option of violence, someone heard the stewardess said
That your parachute is a latex ****** hooked to a dread
West Coast

[Verse 3: Jay Electronica]
You could check my name on the books
I Earth, Wind, and Fire’d the verse, then rained on the hook
The legend of Dorothy Flowers proclaimed from the roof
The tale of a magnificent king who came from the nooks
Of the wild magnolia, mother of many soldiers
We live by every single word she ever told us
Watch over your shoulders
And keep a tin of beans for when the weather turns the coldest
The Lord is our shepherd, so our cup runneth over
Put your trust in the Lord but tether your Chevy Nova
I’m spittin' this **** for closure
And God is my witness, so you could get it from Hova
To all you magicians that’s fidgeting with the cobra
I’m silent as a rock, ‘cause I came from a rock
That’s why I came with the rock, then signed my name on the Roc
Draw a line around some Earth, then put my name on the plot
Cause I endured a lot of pain for everything that I got
The eyelashes like umbrellas when it rains from the heart
And the tissue is like an angel kissin you in the dark
You go from blind sight to hindsight, passion of the Christ
Right, to baskin' in the limelight, it take time to get your mind right
Jay Electricity, PBS mysteries
In a lofty place, tangling with Satan over history
You can’t say **** to me - Alhamdulillah
It’s strictly by faith that we made it this far
This is the lyrics to "Control" by Kendrick Lamar ft. Big Sean ft. Jay Electronica, ****. No I.D ...
I so mad that he dissed half of my favorite rappers and how is it that he dissed Big Sean and Jay Electronica and they're rapping in this song....I don't understand. But i kinda like this song.
Continue reading...
Bunhead17 Nov 2013
The Monster
[Hook: Rihanna]
I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed
Get along with the voices inside of my head
You're trying to save me, stop holdin' your breath
And you think I'm crazy, yeah you think I'm crazy

[Verse 1: Eminem]
I wanted the fame, but not the cover of Newsweek
Oh well, guess beggars can't be choosey
Wanted to receive attention for my music
Wanted to be left alone in public excuse me
For wanting my cake, and eat it too, and wanting it both ways
Fame made me a balloon cause my ego inflated
When I blew see, but it was confusing
Cause all I wanted to do is be the Bruce Lee of loose leaf
Abused ink, used it as a tool when I blew steam
Hit the lottery, oh wee
But with what I gave up to get was bittersweet
It was like winning a used mink
Ironic cause I think I'm getting so huge I need a shrink
I'm beginning to lose sleep: one sheep, two sheep
Going cuckoo and cooky as Kool Keith
But I'm actually weirder than you think cause I'm...

[Hook]

[Bridge: Rihanna]
Well, that's nothing

[Verse 2: Eminem]
Now, I ain't much of a poet but I know somebody
Once told me to seize the moment and don't squander it
Cause you never know when it all could be over tomorrow
So I keep conjuring, sometimes I wonder
Where these thoughts spawn from
(Yeah, pondering'll do you wonders
No wonder you're losing your mind, the way it wanders)
Yodel-odel-ay-hee-hoo
I think you've been wandering off down yonder
And stumbled onto Jeff VanVonderen
Cause I need an interventionist to intervene between me and this monster
And save me from myself and all this conflict
Cause the very thing that I love's killing me and I can't conquer it
My OCD is conking me in the head
Keep knocking, nobody's home, I'm sleepwalking
I'm just relaying what the voice in my head is saying
Don't shoot the messenger, I'm just friends with the...

[Hook + Bridge]

[Verse 3: Eminem]
Call me crazy, but I have this vision
One day that I walk amongst you a regular civilian
But until then drums get killed
And I'm coming straight at MCs, blood get spilled
And I take it back to the days that I get on a Dre track
Give every kid who got played at, pumped up feeling
And **** to say back to the kids who play 'em
I ain't here to save the ******* children
But if one kid out of a hundred million
Who are going through a struggle feels and then relates, that's great
It's payback, Russell Wilson falling way back in the draft
Turn nothing into something, still can make that, straw into gold chump
I will spin Rumpelstiltskin in a haystack
Maybe I need a straight jacket face facts, I am nuts for real
But I'm okay with that, it's nothing, I'm still friends with the...
i like this song! "The Monsters by Eminem Ft Rihanna ****. Frequency
Continue reading...
Xyns Jan 2015
Entire Second Verse Of Beautiful Pain by Eminem
So familiarize what having to swallow this pill is like
It happens all the time, they take your heart and steal your life
And it's as though you feel you've died because you've been killed inside
But yet you're still alive which means you will survive
Although today you may weep because you're weak and
Everything seems so bleek and hopeless
The life that you're seeking, it begins to seep in
That's the only thing keeping you from leaping off the motherfreaking deep end

And I'm pulling for you to push through this feeling
And with a little time that should do the healing
And by tomorrow you may even feel so good that you're willing
To forgive them even after all that **** you been put through.
This feeling of resilience is building.
And the flames are burning quick as fire would.
Through this building. you're sealed in
But you're fireproof, flame retardant, you withstood it.
And as you climb up to the roof, you're just chillin' and you look down
'Cause you're so over them you could put the heel of your foot through the ceiling.

As time passes, things change everyday
But wounds, wounds heal
But scars still remain the same
But tomorrow today's goin' down in flames
Throw the match, set the past ablaze

So feel the fire beneath your feet
As you barely even perspire from the heat
Exhale deep and breathe a sigh of relief
And as you say goodbye to the grief
It's like watching the walls melt in your prison cell
But you've extinguished this living hell
Still a little piece of you dies, you scream..
Beautiful Pain by Eminem ft Sia. This song keeps me going when I want to stop.
#life #eminem #idol
Continue reading...
Amanda Stoddard Jul 2015
Memory lane.
I got 99 problems but hip-hop ain't one.

"Poetry, that's a part of me, retardedly bop
I drop the ancient manifested hip-hop straight off the block"
Nas and Jigga beef was the first I heard of drama in the music industry-
fueled me as a youngin' crowned from my brother's love of it.
Fast forward to when the radio put me on-
in the garage, on my mongoose
I heard someone spitting through the stereo
didn't pay much mind until a high-pitched voice rang through.
"Through the wire-"
no "through the fire?"
I couldn't understand but this dude started rhyming
and speaking through the speakers at me
my hair raised up and I knew this was love-
smile on my face at first listen
never really heard anything like it.
I thought back to the first song like that I heard-
"Life's a ***** and then you die-"
knew that line all too well
resonation in my bones didn't feel so much like a stranger-
my young self started spitting around the older crowd
they looked down and smiled-
a sense of admiration.
Hip-hop was my way in my ticket to acknowledgment.
Started listening to Eminem before I was even 10.
5th grade on the bus rides to and from field trips
"Shut the **** up guys I'm trying to listen"
headphones in, finally found someone to relate
so many thoughts of suicide being taken away-
realized the radio wasn't really my thing
too much pop and not enough soul
the words they sang were nothing to me.
In the beginning hip-hop was just a facade I liked to play
so other people would notice and think I'm pretty cool
but somewhere along the line it took me over
bumping nas, em and pac through my stereo
mom looking in my room like
"where the **** did my daughter go?
she's listening to this ****, she's gotta get a grip-"
But when I hurt the music would listen
bass lines and samples running through my veins
didn't know much about hip-hop
except the way it made me feel..
Technology came abrupt and the computer was my safe haven
the runaway from the abuse I was experiencing
mommy and daddy fighting?
headphones in so I can't hear it.
crying through each verse
and then the chorus hits and I'm better
finally realized I wasn't alone in this hell hole.
Started up a myspace-
more room for discovery
Eazy-e some Biggie more Nas
and **** even some Jeezy.
Every word they spoke
became something that was apart of me.
"Poetry, that's a part of me, retardedly bop
I drop the ancient manifested hip-hop straight off the block."
Nas said it best-
old school rappers speaking to me before bed.
Then I discovered Cudi, more Kanye, andre 3k.  
thought about how I had to write like this
it was my destiny to manifest this passion
put it into my pen until I could learn to lavish
in the luxuries they could afford
not the riches but the rhyme schemes
and the way it helped me
again and again would listen until I got tired
notebooks full of rhymes
my life was on the line and it became wired
then came limewire and my mind blew up
there's an entire world of music I never knew-
download after download the music became me
so much more to go through
****** up my computer
virus to the hard drive
all my music's gone. ****.
Freaking out in my room at midnight
threw a chair, punched the wall
mom asking if i'm alright.
"*******, go away"
She thought the music was to blame
but without that **** is why it happened
never gave up on this **** called rappin'
wrote my first rhyme when I was in 5th grade
poetry turned to rhyme schemes
and samples I liked to play.
Passion turned to aggression
when everyone started spitting
thought this was me and no one elses
has to prove who I was to the masses.
High School came and I was
"The girl who rapped"
freestyle lunch sessions to secure it.
Voices from the crowd
"**** she murdered it".
Slipped up-
started on the pills
too many thoughts in my mind
too many demons to ****-
ran away from the hip-hop
turned that **** to heavy metal
pop-punk and punk rock.
Turned away my from my passion
and started writing poetry
stanzas, sibilance and sonnets
filled my insides.
I suffered without the classics
the dream began to fade away.
We moved-
became a recluse.
didn't eat for weeks
but this time money wasn't the issue.
Heard something bumpin' from the basement
my hair stood up when I heard that base hit
ran down like I was chasin' after my passion again
"what is this?"
my cousin laughed "Life Changes"
"who is it?"
"Wu-tang" he said to me
I bobbed my head and smiled once again
"Wu is indeed for the children"
he laughed and so did I.
Realized my love for hip-hop
would never actually die.
"Poetry, that's a part of me, retardedly bop
I drop the ancient manifested hip-hop straight off the block"
hip-hop you saved my life.
#hip-hop
Continue reading...
Nathaniel Brenner Nov 2013
So Loved
Even now he sneaks away,
Leaving his family behind.
No longer caring what they say,
He can't stand to be inside.

On the roof, above the twelfth floor,
Looking out to the distant moon.
A quarter million miles more,
He hopes to be there soon.

Now his feet, they dangle free,
On the edge of life.
He knows there is so much more to be,
But has always considered this night.

He hums a tune softly to himself,
Space Bound by Eminem.
He dares not sing it to anyone else,
They wouldn't care enough to listen.

It defies, yet describes himself,
The impossible journey so far.
Wondering if he should call for help,
He examines again the stars.

He's on the edge, a moment profound,
Between two types of infinity.
One the universe that so surrounds,
And two, the end of all he could be.

Both so huge, so permanent,
They both could swallow him whole.
He can't tell where he would be sent,
When they put him in a hole.

He thought he had done so well,
Believing himself worthy.
But as his promises all fell,
His soul now feels *****.

He snaps back to the moment,
And the horror of it all.
But realizing his cares are spent,
He somehow doesn't fear the fall.

This is the only place he feels alive,
When he's walking that fine line.
Trying to recall when he felt the drive,
To stay and live and shine.

He remembers all the lively vigor,
That flooded through his veins.
He recalls what it was like to be a lover,
And let her take the reigns.

It screams through him,
A passion he cannot contain.
Forcing its way through him,
The shocking, driving main.

The phantom tears fall,
Not really there but real.
Time has slowed to a crawl,
As he remembers what it is to feel.

Once again he snaps back,
Reality greets him with a gust.
Struggling to control this attack,
He tries to find his trust.

But he's off his high,
The adrenaline has gone.
Still so fascinated by the sky,
He forces himself to go on.

Climbing down, he sighs aloud,
Nothing remains the same.
The moon is coveted by clouds,
And he hasn't gone insane.

He examines himself, his solid being,
Curious about his existence.
All of what he is seeing,
Seems as from a distance.

He pulls out his keyboard,
The journal of his sins.
The only thing in his world,
That when he calls, seems to listen.

He writes about a tragic man,
And rhymes all of his conflicts.
He locks it inside, as was his plan,
Twenty six little convicts.

Wondering within, in his head,
He scours for the truth.
He fears that it is all but dead,
The honesty of youth.

How can one man feel so alone?
Solemn tears of such despair,
Sitting atop his gilded throne,
His soul begins to tear.

He is so loved, but alas,
Fast love is not his cure.
He wishes for something that might last,
A peace that might endure.

He spends his nights,
In dying hatred of himself.
His many, many internal fights,
Have left him little else.

He denies, but knows it true:
He has finally come to fear.
His trust has finally fallen through,
He can't allow anyone so near.

Betrayed too often, taken and used,
His spirit taken for granted.
Now accustomed to being abused,
All his dreams have slanted.

He now believes that is his role,
The savior and the help.
Each case has taken its toll,
And nobody knows how it felt.

Now he lets a few come close,
But he dares not admit his flaws.
Beaten but unbroken,
Still dodging sharpened claws.

He put his faith in God,
And forces himself to believe.
He often wonders if the book is flawed,
But sees all he has received.

He lives life by logical decisions,
And this, mostly is true.
His heart has never found direction,
When he doesn't know what to do.

Now he no longer trusts his heart,
And so relies on luck.
He's waiting for a girl set apart,
One who loves poetry and trucks.

He drowns within his regrets,
Hating the things he has done.
Remembering the cruelest bets,
And all of those he has won.

Counting the hearts he burned,
Leading them on and on.
Recalling how each finally turned,
After he told them to move on.

He listens to the songs,
The lyrics describing love.
Now he thinks they might be wrong,
As he doubts what is above.

He sees in himself many gifts,
But he wonders if they are imagined.
Is he the one creating rifts?
Is there nothing good within him?

Does nothing really set him apart,
Is he truly just the same?
The numbers say that he is smart,
But he has outgrown his fame.

All his life he has been told,
That he is different, special.
But now as compliments grow old,
He again begins to wrestle.

In his heart he thinks they lied,
Inflating his confidence.
But now that his ego has died,
He dares not reminisce.

He climbed and climbed on great wings,
A beacon of joy and smiles.
But now they hate whenever he sings,
And his jokes don't make them smile.

He rarely screams or loses control,
But he can't comprehend what they say.
An extinguished spark within his soul,
Wonders why they pushed him away.

And so he goes, on and on,
He has not yet found his end.
All that was right is now wrong,
And so he constantly pretends.

Writing words as though they matter,
Laughing as if he cares.
His trust fades as it scatters,
And he keeps stitching his tears.
.
.
.
.
.
I slowly arise from my seat,
Glad that man is not me.
The clouds hide the moon from sight,
And it is far too late at night.

I'm refreshed and even smile.
I haven't had peace in a while.
The phantom tears nearly fall,
As I admire the beauty of it all.

The sky is so wide, so infinite,
I could lose myself within it.
Happy memories fill my mind,
Of all those I hold inside.

Folding chair my comfy throne,
Though tonight I am alone.
But I know that I am so loved,
A better life I can't think of.

From the floor below I hear a sound,
Eminem's Space Bound.
I hum along to the beat,
Wishing my own words so fleet.

One more glance into the sky,
I dream of soaring, flying high.
Smiling broadly, loving life,
I bid the beautiful world goodnight.
Continue reading...
Sketcher Nov 2018
Thankful
Although the world is ****** and I'd rather leave than stay,
There are many things I'm thankful for on this fine holiday,
Today I'll talk about people and things,
That make life a little more worth living,
These people and things remove all the stings,
Of pain I'm taking daily and giving,
A little more will make a bigger change,
Time for my attitude to rearrange,
Temporarily so I can say nice stuff,
Time to begin, that intro was enough,

I'm thankful for Skyrim through Arena,
I'm thankful for my mother Kristina,
I'm thankful for Toontown and its trolley,
I'm thankful for my lil' sister Zoe,
I'm thankful for all the love that one stole,
Cause now she will have a small part of me,
I'm thankful for my step-father Joel,
I'm thankful for TV shows and movies,
I'm thankful for this superb holiday,
So I can easily spread all my thanks,
I'm thankful for little tiny JJ,
And sometimes all of his crazy high jinks,
I'm thankful for pouring out whiskey, gin,
And other alcoholic beverages,
I'm thankful for the removal of sin,
And Jesus deciding what leverage is,
I'm thankful for my ancestors kin,
I'm thankful for my sister Adalyn,
I'm thankful for peoples divinity,
I'm thankful for my sister Trinity,
I'm thankful for Japan, chopsticks, and tea,
I'm thankful for the greatest homeboy D,
I'm thankful for big meals, good food, and feasts,
I'm thankful for my ex-girlfriend Tranyce,
I'm thankful for firsts, I'll punch you, sue me,
I'm thankful for the very tall Tui,
I'm thankful for rain and windy weather,
I'm thankful for the beautiful Heather,
I'm thankful for her brother named Erick,
And her other brother that is name Ray,
Their whole **** family is quite hysteric,
But hanging with them will brighten my day,
Thankful for the culminating project,
And the fact that I'm done cause they waived this,
I'm thankful for Smash Bros., I'm never rekt,
I'm thankful for wise ol' Mr. Davis,
I'm thankful for teacher Mr. Thompson,
Judo Sensei that knows how to whomp em',
I'm thankful for the roof over my head,
I'm thankful for my blankets and my bed,
I'm thankful for good brownies and hot rolls,
I'm thankful for my cool father Michael,
I'm thankful for past presidents life Ronald Reagan,
I'm thankful for my aunt on my moms side name Megan,
I'm thankful for the police that jail *****,
I'm thankful for my buff uncle Damick,
I'm thankful for lists made of pros and con,
I'm thankful for my other uncle Jon,
I'm thankful for pirate ships matey,
I'm thankful for my old grandpa Tracy,
I'm thankful for envelops that senda,
Letter and money from my grandma Brenda,
I'm thankful for Disney, Belle to Moana,
I'm thankful for my good friend Adriana,
I'm thankful for known facts and secrets, do tell
I'm thankful for a good friend named Miguel,
All these friends are such nice and kind fellas,
I'm thankful for a good friend named Ella,
I'm thankful for cats and their perfect pur,
I'm thankful for our late cat named Ginger,
I'm thankful for good smells and their freshness,
I'm thankful for our current cat precious,
I'm thankful for American and foreign dollah's,
I'm thankful for a black slug that we have named Nala,
I am thankful for Demetri's family,
Will, Dylan, Erick, and sleepy time tea,
Sometimes Nicole has me over for DnD,
I'm thankful for the oxygen coming from the trees,
I'm thankful for hope and the act of wishing,
I'm thankful for the oldest son Christina,
I'm thankful for music, rap, rock, and grunge,
I'm thankful for breakfast, dinner, and lunch,
I'm thankful for all family and friends,
I'm thankful for forgiveness and amends,
I'm thankful for X and the dead Lil Peep,
I'm thankful for the awake and asleep,
I'm thankful for skittles and good candy,
And Eminem, Marshall Mathers, dandy,
I'm thankful for swervers and people that stay in their own lane,
I'm thankful for Nirvana and specifically Kurt Cobain,
I'm thankful for drawing, painting, grass, and moss,
I'm thankful for the best painter, Bob Ross,
I'm thankful for Karate and Thai Chi,
Judo, Jeet-Kun-Do, and of course, Bruce Lee,
I'm thankful for drinks and fun house parties,
I'm thankful for squirm words like, "Farties",
I'm thankful for heavy metal and silence,
I'm thankful for Altoids, bubblegum, and mints,
I'm thankful for manga, comics, and novels,
Anime, and problems that are solvable,
I'm thankful for the nice clothes on my back,
I'm thankful for a great actor, Jack Black,
I'm thankful for watching the poem just go,
I'm thankful for Panic! at the disco,
I'm thankful for the singing and the dance,
I'm thankful for My Chemical Romance,
I'm thankful for all the lord of the rings,
I'm thankful for the books by Stephen King,
I'm thankful for the high highs and low lows,
I'm thankful for the greatest Burnham, Bo,
I'm thankful for zoos and the skilled handlers,
I'm thankful for the great Adam *******,
I'm thankful for the truthful and liars,
I'm thankful for great Robin Doubtfire,

I'm thankful for that feeling that's serene,
When you're chest to chest with one that will lean,
Towards you at any given moment,
And will give you love and their condolence,
And then they flee to somewhere else,
And you end up being someone else,
And they end up seeing someone else,
So your heart just gives up and melts,
But whatever feeling I'm feeling,
If I am feeling then I'm grateful,
Emotions must be constantly reeling in,
So I don't get lost in the dull sense of numb.
Thank You
A thanksgiving poem.
#thanksgiving #thankful
Continue reading...
Allen Wilbert Jan 2014
Reunion Of The K.K.K.
Reunion Of The K.K.K.

I jumped from the plane with a prayer and a dream,
gonna hook up with my old Alabama team.
Welcome to the land of red necks,
a place filled with no excess.
I got in the closest taxi cab,
white robe I had to nab.
This all seems so crazy,
tired of being so **** lazy.
Lots of pressure, getting kinda nervous,
they say it's my civil service.
Then the Eminem song came on,
then the Eminem song came on,
so I then twirled my white baton.
With butterflies in my tummy,
starting to feel like a dummy.
Hands up while they play my song,
time has come, it won't be long.
It's a reunion of the k.k.k,
it's a reunion of the k.k.k,
it's a black person buffet.
Get out in the hood, from the cab,
my white hooded robe, I had to grab.
Everyone looks at me now,
I just wave and give a bow.
They can tell I'm from out of town,
hundreds of black people with a frown.
It was sometime around noon,
when they played my favorite tune.
It's a song from the Insane Clown Posse,
it's a song from the Insane Clown Posse,
us ten members started to get bossy.
It's a reunion of the k.k.k,
it's a reunion of the k.k.k,
some people are gonna die today.
Burning crosses on the street,
as we get our ***** beat.
Throw my hands up, like in the sixties,
we knew this would be a bit risky.
It was a reunion of the k.k.k,
it was a reunion of the k.k.k,
now our heads are on display.
Continue reading...
Maddie Sep 2019
The Eminem one
You tell me

“You’re my heart and I’m your armor”

What a
Beautiful
Powerful
Phrase

How magnetic
How poetic
How incredible

Here’s a little Eminem for ya

“My body aches when I ain’t with you, I have zero strength. There’s no limit on how far I would go, no boundaries, no lengths.”
#love #lovestruck #beautiful #lyrics #song #eminem
Continue reading...
IamThatGirl May 2018
"My life would be so much better if you just dropped dead" - Eminem
My life would be so much better, if you just dropped dead,
because staring into your eyes makes me see red,
for all that you have done,
and all the hurt that you have caused,
you would think the beating would be the worst,
but its always the words that hit the hardest,
and its not like I had a helping father,

living in a middle class house,
driving in a middle class car,
my mother sat the bar,
and she raised it up too far,

so everything was to look perfect,
I was supposed to smile,
I was supposed to make it worth it,
I was supposed to be perfect,

so what happens next,
Its not like I passed all her test,
I passed none,
i was to much and she was too strong,

I still feel her beatings on my face,
but that´s not what ended me up in this place,
because her words hit the hardest,
she said she regretted the adoption,
and with every second the words always hit harder,

because I tried my very best to be perfect,
but with insomnia, ADHD, Asperger and more,
it was like glass shattered beneath my feet with each step,
and all I ever wanted was to be like the rest.
#abuse #childabuse #narcissism #mother #father #alcoholism #beaten #suicideawareness #insomnia #adhd
Continue reading...
Manic Brilliance Oct 2015
Just a thought.
mackelmore got it focused, and eminem did too,
if hip hop can have a tolerance, then why can't you?
you say you're against abortion, but what if your child turned out gay?
would you change your story? or would you try to drug the love away?
pro-life's is what you preach but against gay marriage from a book's depiction?
no wonder we are lost, when we think in contradiction...
this isn't only a hit to Christianity, it's aimed towards religion, insanity comes to definition when a book make your decisions.
we try to preach peace, but peace still hides, when every hateful slur comes with a demon surprise.
so many wars over **** like this,
when we should all stand up and fight against it.
some say it's on oil, but see the bigger picture,
internal wars fueled by hatred written in scripture.
the essence of the soul is trapped within a cast,
maybe we are already in hell but our soul stands center mass,
trying to escape with reason by which you just ignore,
when you speak without though or a pulse within your core.
why does it matter if someone has a lover of the same ***?
just because you were raised that way, you have to continue this hex?
ink written on paper, by the hands of man,
over thousands of years, translated again and again.
but you're so set in stone on what you believe,
that if Jesus himself appeared and proved you wrong, he would get the third degree.
set you human thoughts aside for the sake of humanity,
and fill your heart will love, respect, and a sense of humility.
I'm not anti-Christian, pro-life, or pro-choice.
but I am pro-Humanity, Pro-change, and pro-voice.
#religion #equality #diversity #gayrights #prolife #samesex #prochange #provoice #prohumanity #straightmenforequality
Continue reading...
Keshia Hayley Africa Oct 2013
Live, dont merely exist.
To live is the rarest thing in the world. I agree with that statement. To live means to have life or to be alive, but how many people actually do that?

"Life is a crazy ride and nothing is guaranteed.", said Eminem. So many people in today's day and age have gone through situations, and almost always unexpectedly. The impact of the situation has left many of them with no zest for life, and they end up simply existing. Its pretty sad if you think about it though. Where some of us are living a zealous life, amped with motivation, others are like clouds, just drifting by, day after day.

Well, I think that's the problem, I think that is to blame for so many things. People who only exist have no goals for their lives, they become negative and have no hope whatsoever. They become so pessimistic that they sometimes get the better of the optimistic. That shouldn't be happening. I can confidently say that those who live to just exist, are the most negative in our population. Everybody suffers and everybody hurts but some of us have acknowledged the fact that circumstances are temporary, so why should we let it get the better of us.

Life is way too short to just go by existing. Doing that is like making food that won't get eaten or buying a phone that you won't use, its pointless. Existing instead of living is almost insulting your creator. Each of us were created for a special purpose, and merely existing is not one of those. I believe that just existing is a waste. So many of us have lost friends and Family members, that we would give anything to see again. You have a life, they don't. Make use of it.

Remember that you were only give one life to live, but if you do it right, once is enough. Also, always know that if you love life, it will love you back. Living your life to the best of your ability can only ever have a positive effect on your life. You were given this life because you're strong enough to live it.

Take chances. Tell the truth. Say no. Spend all your cash. Get to know someone randomn. Say I love you. Sing out loud. Laugh at stupid jokes. Cry. Apologise. Tell someone how much they mean to you. Laugh till your stomach hurts. Regret nothing. Most importantly, live life.
Continue reading...
Dennis Scherle Jan 2014
letter to myself
twelve

         If i could write a letter to my twelve your old self, i would mention the pain your about to face, with self loathing and mental health is far worse then the years before. I would mention how when you wake up wipe the sleep from your eyes and read this letter and find two people you loved gone from your life forever. When you leave your plastic car framed bed you will find an empty room in the basement. The first loss is not death but abandenment leaves no answer to the sting a heart can feel when your older sister meant to guide you has ran away.  She has left, and to what you shall soon find out, left you to your death. The second loss has less thought to the idea of why? but still i did cry. It was my great grandmothers time. Her slow pace death lead to suffering till one week to the day after i turned twelve.  Emotional asking questions why, three days later i tightened my silk tie putting on a suit and ending the night seeing the casket of one of you. To think of you as dead eased my head for a while but still have to replace my frown with a fake smile. After all i lost a sister, when i needed someone to talk you were never there. Instead i just found myself cutting and dyeing my hair.  This is the year you feel your fathers strong hand as you tremble below it. This is the year you tremble in fear this is the first year you want to die

Thirteen

      To my thirteen year old self, im sorry life doesnt get better. im sorry that this is year your parents admit they don't care.  Im sorry this is the year you hear the three words no one wants or deserves to know their pain. Even though the words "I hate you" Were uttered in vain. Im sorry no one was there to hold you in there arms, im sorry of how when looked in the mirror every morniing after you showered  telling yourself its a new day and the pain is past. Im so sorry of how you found out how long the pain really lasts. Look at what you have achieved though, this is the year you win first in all categories invited to Kick Canada to again win. You achieve a bronze as a group, silver in your weopons, and gold in kickboxing. With you feeling weighed down your still weightless, with your amazing place and the smile on your face to look in the croud hearing the aplause. Somethings missing though your parents no where to be seen. Im sorry they wernt there to say good job im sorry your dads hand still strikes strong. This is the year you say enough though, you say no and strike back your foe. He stands stunned for a minute and walks away, the bruises faded away from the surface, but inside i still see them.  It is the night of my birthday i fall asleep praying tomorow will bring a better year.

Fourteen

     Im sorry this is not the year it gets better, your father never lays another hand to your dismay doesnt matter for his and your mothers word fly freely. This is the year they make you cry, only to insult you further "your nothing, your trash" there tounges did lash me. Til  i crashed under hate to my untimly fate, your mother is sick and you walk into the room as she slashes the blade across her wrist, you watch her bleed amd scream for help but she pretends u dont exsist she  spends the next year and eight monthes in psycitric care. Left in a house with nothing fair in the air my invitation ti nationals came and past i did not go in fear of leaving my mother would effect her more vast, past her yelling at ke eberyday i walked in the light blue room with the curtains always closed filled with gloom . While my mother on her last heartstrings looked for strength from her groom . Only to be filled with hate she saw me as a reminder he exsists and how he doesnt visit but i did. I walked the long path every **** day to see my mothers face still i wasnt good enough but that is just my luck. It is my last night of this age. The house is empty amd quite but still remains okay just praying thiis new year brings joy to the now broken boy.

Fifteen

     This is not the year it gets better neither, but this os the year your mother is released. It took a week for the smiles to wear away. Then i saw once again the skin tare from her flesh. Soon hate took over the tone under her breath and malace mixed with spite is the only thing left of my mother i once knew. This is the year you once again face death, you and your mother are in a car driving counting breaths singing along to eminem, reciting robert frost. when suddenly a car passes us and my mother is crossed the mid age lady on her phone swirving around, not paying atention to anyone or anything i still see her frown. She ran a stop sighn without a thought hit by a garbage truck in front of our eyes now i know the cost of when her cellphone conversation stopped. This was the first time i watched someone die. Still shocked  my mother had to call the abulence as i and the garbage man saw the damage in case she still did breath. In the end blood filled the scene as me amd the garbage man covered the front window with a sheet to protect what is left of this womens dignity. This is the year you fond a little blue pill that not only eases your pain if snorted aslo goves you a thrill. This is the first year that you almost sucsessfully kil.l... yourself going to sleep for this living hell praying next year could be better aswell.

Sixteen

     This year is a self medicated blur, this is the year you forgot who you were. T3s replaced with perks and shots only to be soon replaced with oxys in your black box crushed and lined one at a time up your nose the powder glides. The first night you try an 80 you overdose nearly comitoce as you spew a frothy white  fluid from your mouth but my freinds saved me to this day i dnt know how called said i passed out and cant drive home so my parents could never figure out how i lay on the tiled floor back from death after this a pill is never again accepted that is your debt 2 days to your birthday that cursid day your sober but that was just babby steps and i promise little soilder babby steps you would not regret.

Seventeen

      This is the year you stopped praying for help thinking you did this to yourself i promise it wasnt you. How could it be your still just in youth. This is the year you watch your father fall. You find the trail of debt 100 thousand dollars owed mine aswell of been a million for we can barely live so how would you like us to pay it back i finfd him stealing money from my backpack. This is the year you find out your dad is the same worth of a rat and you dont have to take his crap. This is the year he snaps and instead you help him back up. He was in achoma five days as you stayed never slept jus sat beside his hospital bed praying this did not mean death. Death came in a different way with your cousin brit stabbed to death by her husband on febuary fith.. this is the year you wished you diddnt exsist.

Eighteen

     This is the year.... you found the courage to see you will always be...good and thats enough for me.
Continue reading...
Jeremy Betts Feb 2018
~•§•~ This Pen Saved Me ~•§•~
I find it hard to put myself out there, I don't go out on a limb
To concerned about what people think and say, like "man, look at him"
"Who the **** does he think he is, he ain't no Eminem"
These words never hit my ear but I swear I'm hearing them
"Look at this, another poor white boy from the trailer park"
"Trying to hit his mark and make it big by belting out what's in his heart"
They got no clue money and fame wasn't my reason to start
It began as a way to shed some light on what seemed like eternal dark
One spark was all it took and I couldn't stop this pen from spilling ink
On the brink of insanity aboard a ship destin to sink
Life ******* me like a *****, two in the pink one in the stink
Swallowed a bottle of pills, why did they give me this charcoal to drink
Hmmm, let me think...****
That's the problem, I just reacted, I didn't stop to think
Didn't stop to think about everything I was about to flush down the stink
But the rope that was supposed to save me is now the one around my throat
The beautiful words I wrote now read as if a suicide note
But getting these thoughts out worked better then letting them get my goat
The loose lief kinda saved my life, it kept me afloat
I filled up hundreds of papers, I wrote down thousands of lines
The more I wrote the less I hurt, confidence up and pain declines
The rain subsides eventually in everyone's minds
But make no mistake the beast still resides behind these eyes
It's just these words are like a prize, they put the beast to sleep like lullaby's

©2018
#myself #poor #fame #dark #suicide #pain #prize #lullaby #cry #saved
Continue reading...
Timmy Shanti Aug 2012
she’s so phat!
she’s so phat!
can’t deny
a simple fact
it’s worth a try
to start anew
all that we knew
to forget
for good
or for worse
i don’t need a purse
have all the mon
in the world
all the gold
so cold
make it warm
love’s a storm
has no form
but a sphere
wild deer
still dreamin’ of ‘em
ain’t no Eminem
just a young man
of arms
charity and alms
such a rarity
in our selfish world
of calamity
unthinkable disaster
tulip, rose and aster
make your heart beat faster
like a drum machine
Dash Berlin
voice and beat
so neat
that girl
a friend of my soul
rhythm
with no blues
happiness
i choose
to carry on
fighting
for what’s right
sleepless
day and night
shaken but not mixed
i still get my kicks
from palm reading
all my wounds
are bleeding
with red wine
guardians of time
lost in their stride
stick to your pride
follow your dreams
anguish sins
belittle the devil
within you
there’s a universe
of wisdom
an ocean
of beauty
get no *****
but acclaim
your name
done in clay
on the walk of fame
let’s call it a day

21.05.2012
Continue reading...
Lauren Fehr May 2013
{lyrical composition}
it's empty in the valley of your heart {the cave - mumford & sons}
breathing in snowflakes {the a team - ed sheeran}
standing in the dark {standing in the dark - lawson}
on the corner of first and amistad {you found me - the fray}
fading out the light softly saying {shuffle - bombay bicycle club}
life's too short to even care at all {cough syrup - young the giant}
i miss our little talks {little talks - of monsters and men}
now i'm driving round on the boulevard {swim good - frank ocean}
chasing after gold mines crossing the fire lines {between the raindrops - lifehouse}
trying to erase the memory of your face {warzone - the wanted}
but on a wednesday in a cafe i watched it begin again {begin again - taylor swift}
there's nowhere we can hide {demons - imagine dragons}
i'll build you shelter out of the rain {shelter - hedley}
and i will try to fix you {fix you - coldplay}
as long as you love me {as long as you love me - justin bieber}
even if you said i was wrong {perfect - hedley}
one minute i held the key next the walls were closed on me {viva la vida - coldplay}
london calls me a stranger {the city - ed sheeran}
but my shadow days are over {shadow days - john mayer}
nothing's fine i'm torn {torn - natalie imbruglia}
you're no good for me but i want you {diet mountain dew - lana del rey}
you make me feel like i'm intoxicated {intoxicated - the cab}
off last night's whiskey and coke {cold coffee - ed sheeeran}
is there something to believe in {makes me wonder - maroon 5}
i'm lost in the heat of it all {lost - frank ocean}
say what you need to say {say - john mayer}
i'm just waiting for the moment to arrive {gold rush - edd sheeran}
like ships in the night passing me by {ships in the night - mat kearney}
mirror on the wall here we are again {mirror - lil wayne}
but i'm not afraid {not afraid - eminem}
in your eyes i have seen all the feeling and the rain {venice - the lighthouse and the whaler}
you ran away in your sleep {paradise - coldplay}
but i won't give up on us {i won't give up - jason mraz}
like the colors in autumn so bright {red - taylor swift}
i loved you first {loved you first - one direction}
the lingering question kept me up {enchanted - taylor swift}
will your mouth read this truth {little bird - ed sheeran}
i've been loving you for quite some time {stay stay stay - taylor swift}
there's things you need to hear {the heart of life - john mayer}
you don't know how lovely you are {the scientist - coldplay}
i'm in love with you and all your little things {little things - one direction}
i belong with you  {** hey - the lumineers}
you belong with me {you belong with me - taylor swift}
i'm lucky i'm in love with my best friend {lucky - jason mraz feat. colbie caillat}
i wrote this yesterday
it's a plethora of lyrics from songs off my ipod
Continue reading...
Emily B Jul 2010
A silly poem for my best friend, Gabby.
Gabby Abrego
I'll never let you go go
unless we go to Mexico
and you be come a hobo!
Then I'll go.
and fetch the so co.
so we can dance to disco
eat enchiladas with adobo
pick the **** out of our Afros!

We'll feel so funky,
the people will get spunky
when we arrive on donkeys,
and ride around their towns!
We'll befriend all the junkies
and give them howler monkeys,
it'll be so funny
we'll laugh until you cry!

Ohh! Gabby Abrego I'll never let you go go
unless I get you prego
then I'll run like mad!
cuz if we had a baby
I'd stop being lazy
get as famous as THE LADY
support you like Eminem did for his baby.

So Never Ever leave me
Or I'll succumb to Scientology
and go even more crazy
my world'd become a mystery.

I'd rather be a rhino
rather be tricked into a *****
rather be married to Bono
in a movie starring J.Lo
be forced to live with Yoko Ono
have red eyes like an albino
than to ever be with out
Gabby Abrego!!!
A silly something I wrote for her birthday, but it's fun to read aloud.
Continue reading...
You've Been Timetabled Aug 2023
HP Writers Spotlight: Amanda Kay Burke
~
August 2023
HP Poet: Amanda Kay Burke
Country: USA


Question 1: We welcome you to the HP Spotlight, Amanda. Please tell us about your background?

Amanda: "It just so happens my HP handle is my actual full name. When I originally signed up on this site it was wordybirdy333 but a friend of mine suggested my real name would seem more professional and I was inclined to agree so Amanda Kay Burke it's been ever since. I am 28 years old physically but will forever be a kid at heart. And I was born and raised in the US; Alaska more specifically. I have to admit I haven't accomplished a whole lot yet in my life, seeing as how I suffer from recurring depression/addiction problems. Which is probably an excuse, but hey everyone has their issues. I have lived in a small town called Willow, AK basically my whole life; I have only been out of state one time (that I remember) but I would love to travel and see the world one day. My mother passed away last year so since then I have been keeping my dad company trying to provide whatever emotional support I am able to. I have a Chihuahua named Mocha and she is my best friend and one of my only friends these days but the few people I do hold close to my heart make my life worthwhile."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Amanda: "I have been writing poetry since I was just a kid, probably nine or ten years old, but I remember being eleven when I wrote the first poem that I knew was actually good. I have been a member of HP since April 2017 so that makes six years now huh? Wow time flies..."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Amanda: "Patty m described it perfectly when she said that it feels like they write themselves at least the truly superb pieces do. I don't know where the words come from sometimes they just flow from the pen and when I'm done I read it over and get goosebumps because I can't believe that it came from my hand/brain. But the majority take a lot of effort. I like to challenge myself to always keep writing when I can, even when I have writers block and don't approve of the result. And I always post it eventually just to compare against my other works. (No matter how cringey) those I derive inspiration from my daily experiences mostly heartbreak/relationships/depression/substance abuse I am not very good at writing happy poems I try about nature and other positive subjects but they lack the raw talent and depth of my darker poetry."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Amanda: "Poetry for me has a very loose definition I have crafted everyday conversations into poems before for instance. I also believe some experiences in life can be considered poetry or at least equates to it in some manner such as making love or the setting sun if that makes any sense to anyone besides me."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Amanda: "My favorite poets are Dorothy Parker, Ogden Nash, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Leonard Cohen, and Eminem who is in my opinion the greatest poet of our generation by far. After all, rap stands for 'rhythm and poetry'."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Amanda: "My other interests are art such as coloring, painting, and I recently received a pottery wheel that I haven't tried out yet. Music is also a huge part of my life, I love writing lyrics to instrumentals, listening to different artists to broaden my tastes, or just singing along to old favorites. I have also recently gotten into online gambling such as slots and blackjack."


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for giving us an opportunity to get to know you, Amanda! You are a wonderful addition to the series!”



Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed getting to know Amanda a little bit better. I indeed did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable)

We will post Spotlight #7 in September!
~
Below are some of Amanda's favorite poems and links to each one:

Arsonist:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4419746/arsonist/

I Hate The Player AND The Game:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3910255/i-hate-the-player-and-the-game/

Staying Sober:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2305232/staying-sober/

Overdose (Rap):
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2307070/overdose-rap/

Broken Wings:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2049748/broken-wings/
#hellopoetry #spotlight #interview #series #poet #timetabled #amanda #burke #2023
Continue reading...
Cat Fiske Jul 2015
A poem I never thought I'd write
my room was a mess,
and we added to it as we undressed,
because I couldn't wait any longer.

I love the feeling of you on me,
as I try to be quite
You came in my mouth,
gripping my head,
my neck,

you tell me, "moan baby"
you love to hear me moan,
you wanted me to moan so loud the whole town could hear,
when I do I feel so happy to be with you,

I lay next to you,
wrap my body around you,
I hold ur hands and make a face that says everything were going to do,
is going to be *****,
but I want to love you,

I kiss you to the point there's no point in stopping,
and when our fingers are unlocking,
they stroke your hair,
hair I love,
you grab my *** and spank it hard,
and I move my hands down your body never pausing,

but I can feel every part of you,
I know that this time its not frightening,
I make my way all the way down to your ****,
and I put it in and we go off,
our ******* feels like it never stops,

we took the time to trace the outlines of each others bodies,
we looked into each others souls,
and now I'm getting ***** faster than eminem's Rap God,
and his body feels like a god,

the ******* begins,
and i'm pleased within,
moaning louder than before,
really hopping the neighbors aren't home next door,

and this is how loving you should feel.
so unreal,
even though its all real.
Someone asked me to write this
#love #home #men #mouth #loving #neck #******* #sexpoem #moan #suckingdick
Continue reading...
Turtle Grylls May 2013
First phrase of recent Skype chats
JAY
nothin
yep
what
crack
dogpoop
lol
bananas
Hitchcock
what da ****
like mayo?
got beef?
Hussein
Mad Libs
Donkey
Asian Jesus
Brown Rice
Cross-Country
Mexicans
Asian Eminem
Royce Da 5'9
Skype
Continue reading...
Hanson Yang Sep 2018
Heavy Manisfest Proof
Born heavy as adorned many: objectivity lifts ready existance carried more steady with the fist than a switchblade as to fist crave: yall just manisfest id shame when you spit back like all my family here to spit crack bone in been gripped back when at grown taught to **** Macks;
I'm the R to the Mack Marck M heavy to my fam born carried since Nas dropped the bomb that Eminem levied in so to spit back, like ghost spittin the **** shittin at all emcees here to spit back:
only time you'd get a note outta me relative is when i'm posing for death: like tupac menacing his pelvis still for the ****** levy in neglection in pics wack;
i spit bone quick when it comes to being notorious in a jacuzzi playing sega and super nintendo **** be in disrespect to ever understand that i don't spit thick back.

i flow sick that before i flow spit that between to post ****:
I pose **** to even to boast fits forgotten what the Ohmegaus finds the rest as undereducated life in being in the sun.
Ghost spittin future written past to see all the conjugatives relative like ****** games on the run:
games on the fun like extension big sides as big sizes like chasing dreams again straight to the the sun is what we've become.

unfinished...

this ain't motherfucken games, and you know id through wish-epic
Continue reading...
Hanson Yang Sep 2018
The New tupac
the new tupac will have you too walkin with gangstas
the new two stupidity now two steppin with prankstas
murked the first one sayin he's blacker the berry
when i'm sweeter than juice
bass voiced top me if you want to experience that jacked tweeters induced
when i own all of Victoria's secrets as proof
tellin me what the body when all his deducement has him actin when he's wearin his shoes
crypt walking like that it's only talk
missed balking like has bass fits jocking as his only walk
******* with me when All Hailed Mary like if she was his when is only stolen balk
I'm walkin again the gauntlet cuz all the women they want this flauntin all **** like if i was jackin all the wanted
like ghost whippin me imma follow you till i'm haunted
pain really, so bow down, when my diamonds glisten
listen again is just as well bilateral biased has his confused his like the ol' eminem was in the new form gettin his face jacked again
like me smokin crack with friends like all given enemies stressed was all given was a race black and then
we actually are the same race like i knew you back like i owned all the streets like his females thuggin as heathen
**** riding i'll **** your *** up like settin me up when i'm always the last muthafucken breathin
exposing the ***** heathen breathin like if you were the only man catching bullet rounds exposed like the new you was still alive
to the next ** hiked my socks up construed you at hit stupidity when will ride
ghettos owned by just the black reppin when you're steppin the whack, honest it was just onyx
i'll blast your *** like if you stole my pump shotty:
like i never was wanted runst follies
anamoly run has all criminal cops all fathering fun deceiving that all to gain was never greed when all greed in need bothering sons:
all you still down with me when we ride it
looking like a *** while i'm guy gee stag when you're looking into their eyes, they'd know comparison of a bird control as if fathering guys
my knowledge is flight applauding the time, are you still down with me
i hide behind the love of beauty of my womens eyes when you're looking like the female opened you up to your face compared to opening thighs
they don't know like how you stare in the future that tommorow comes only after the dark
knowing me marks the coming of the actual god
I am "unconditional heart"
Continue reading...
David Ayres Apr 2013
"Titles, Labels, and Names Part 1: Call me"
Call me the greatest adventure of Indiana Jones.
Call me the Graeters of tasty ice cream cones.
Call me the Ed Rosenthal of relaxing stones.
Call me the Natasha Trethewey of meaningful poems.
Call me the Pauly Shore of Bio-Domes.
Call me the Jack Hannah of Columbus Zoos.
Call me the Martha Stewart of delicious stews.
Call me the Bob Ross of independent creations.
Call me the Dr. Phil of mending relations.
Call me the Albert Einstein of mathematical equations.
Call me the Captain Kirk of Space exploration.
Call me the William Shatner of monotone greatness.
Call me the Jim Morrison of open doors.
Call me the Mr. Clean of shiny floors.
Call me the Hugh Hefner of stupid ******.
Call me the Bob Dylan of traveling trains.
Call me the Samuel L. Jackson of snakes and planes.
Call me the Arm & Hammer of tough stains.
Call me the Blade of a vampire.
Call me the Froto Baggins of the Shire.
Call me the Firestone of a pumped tire.
Call me a Christ of ignited passion.
Call me a Lucifer of trendy fashion.
Call me a Shiva of shattered illusions.
Call me a Buddha of peaceful institutions.
Call me the Ron Jeremy of KY Jelly.
Call me the Emeril Legassi of food for the belly.
Call me the Tupac Shakur of spitting ****.
Call me the Eminem of full sentences.
Call me the Smoky the Bear of a campfire.
Call me the Jim Carry of Liar Liar.
Call me the That Guy of desire.
You can even call me an *******
Continue reading...
josh Dec 2011
White Boy Rap
She's a dime everytime...
Making ******* rhyme on the grime...
Tell her how great she is if you so incline...
But don't forget she's mine...
Disrespect will get ripped from your spine...
With a smile on my face while I dine..
**** she's so fine...
Bring terror to the streets so divine...
Like a fine wine aging over time...
An acquired taste...
And quit while you're ahead...
******* with my girl will get you two to the chest and one in the head...
Clear...
Mouth to mouth resuscitation...
You might as well give self-mutilation...
It's a celebration...
Of your life affiliation...
Yeah they call me Jkizzle...
No i'm not the white version of Eminem...
Haters can go sit on the bench with the rest of them...
I don't give a **** what you say...
Bow down before I break ya legs...
I go hard for days...
No hesitation...
No room for strays...
Head held high...
Outer space...
So lets arase all the hate...
And go back to loving one another...
I can love you like a brother...
Or ******* over *******...
Continue reading...

— The End —