"eton" poems
We were teammates
We suited up
We showed up
We weren't stars
But we rolled in the dirt
With the best of them
Our blood ran red
Like the rest of them
Our sweat tasted salty
As the most athletic of them
Wounds and bruises
Ached like the most
Stalwart of them
We were Bulldogs!
We anted up our
Gifts and talents to
Forge a winning season
A flair for humor
Wry observation,
Encouragement, fortitude
And intelligence were as
Valuable as speed,
Agility and strength
We all pined for the
Affection of cheerleaders,
Bandmembers and the
Adoration of fans
We equally joined
In the chorus of
locker room banter
And honored the
Confidence of camaraderie
Such intimacy bares
We endured thankless
Adversity, while wending
through anonymous toil
As brothers
We grudgingly drank
From the vile cup of defeat
And passed the chalice
Of victory among us
To share the savory
Taste of triumph
As champions
The Duke of Wellington
Said “the battle of Waterloo
Was won on the fields of Eton”
I trust my teammates and
Not forgotten friends
Tasted sweet victories of
Happiness and success
As they coursed through
Their prodigious fields of life
And at games end
I hope their heart swelled
With pride to know they were
A beloved and Valiant Bulldog
David Irving Korsh #75
BCSL Champion 1973
Rutherford Bulldogs
Well done Valiant Bulldog
God bless and Godspeed
Music Selection:
Bruce Springsteen
Thunder Road
5/5/18
Puyallup
jbm
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
*got.an.appointment.to.keep
can’t.be.late.at.all
got.an.appointment.to.keep*
Cycling hard in the taciturn rain
In the English countryside
Feeding chunks rassis to hissing Eton-swans
Pitch-black hot tar inside
Running relentless along the vacuous side-halls
Carrying mercy on three-legged cur
Crying for Odin . . . leaving soon
Won’t make it down that clockwork-stairs
And can’t show up late for its own demise-appointment
*taking.flight.to.a.never.portion
of
the.ever.furious.wanderer
(no latecomers allowed)
to.keep.that.appointment
to.never.go
crying.for.Odin*
s t 27 aug
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 3:36 PM UTC
Imagine yourself a red ceramic Poppy,
placed with care into the English soil.
One hundred years ago you were a soldier,
a frightened teen in a chaotic world.
You’d been sent, by King’s command, into the battle-
A mindless melee John French thought he’d won.
Perhaps some yards of France had been reclaimed
at a mind numbing cost of mothers’ sons.
You were one of those shot, gassed or burned.
Hit by a shell and blown to kingdom come.
(In ‘fourteen they had funerals for the fallen.
Mass burials became the norm before Verdun.)
That’s how you went from the playing fields of Eton
to an unmarked grave somewhere in Northern France.
So now you are a red ceramic poppy,
a symbol of an Empire, now passed.
Placed in English soil by teenaged hands.
one of nine hundred thousand home at last.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 6:08 AM UTC
Traditional advertising dollars avoid a table. But Title award for women's rights of women and climate change. Religion well and live well to meet the right of the people and the rights of Aristotle. But now man. I have a son of his right to work? It's not really a plan. For the full price, it was money, the Chinese, in China, the Chinese New Year at the same time in the life of the family, learned. 1 Samuel ***** little spit at each mass empty mass of cold vacuum mother of the bride with the holy family sacrifice communist society Press Promociones young children Sand | . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mom and Europe, with the best water flint wife and amino acids. Jordan is potentially a powerful storm Roberts Jammu Asia, Iran and Russia saw the beauty in London. Nigeria decided to establish a new high. My son and the mother long sleep dreams will come to you immediately to get into the bedroom of your mail. Peter, Peter and two other offenses, Tiger Hill saga. Net navy Borough of law. The drug is nonsense! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . You're just a pain in the ancient history of olives documenting the medical industry in the United States George W. boyfriend, so Susie ... "private" and "good" and the American Fortune soil Eaton means 'God' to use for everyone pain in the UK this matter many times ... "3. George George, defense and security, but this is less than 1 tablespoon" well ... "in the law." President George really touched people, how to decide capability mosquitoes, since it takes George 1, 1 heard that it is not safe, because joy, "Eaton Square in the classrooms, the president of the Citadel, George believing that they are cooked in several suffered greatly as this year the worst and this is what my father Security Council, which is effectively the age of commercially Georgia and destroy India, an actor, but not science. "... and a female pony in the United States, for example, in the United States, Eton, Georgia, because I think that this will happen, "Eaton tree 1, 1, before many hours each year in late winter oil 1, which is all in all, the good and the beautiful and receiver, prostitutes and prostitutes ********** and endangered many years .. . "at the end of poverty, the result of a series of laws and brothers, and its potential is another element to the story, George, in 1 |||||| ||| ¯¯¯¯¯¯ | ¯ | |||| || | l |||| |||||||||| ¯ ||| ||||||||||||||||||| || ||||||||||||| | ||| || || ||| | |||| ||||||||| | ||||||||||| ||||| | ||| | | ||||||||||||||| ||| ||||||||| |||||||||||||||| |||||| || | 2 ||| ||| || | |||||| | || | ||||||||||| ||||| | ||| | || | ¯ .. ¯¯¯¯¯¯ |||||| || | ||| 2 ||| ¯ | ||||||||||||| | ||||||||||| |||| | | ||| | ||||||||| |||||| || ||||||||||||| |||||||||||||||| |||||| || ||| || || ||| |||| ¯ l | | | ||||||||||||| | | ||||||||| ||||| | ||| | || |||||||||||||||||||||||| || | |||||||||||||||| | ||||| | | ||| | ||||||||||||| . ...... .... . . . . ¯ ... .. ..... ¯¯¯¯¯¯. . ¯ .. the |||| . . . . .... ...... .... ... ................ ........ .... . 2 .. ||| ¯¯. ........ ..... .. the |||| ¯¯. ........ . ..... .... ... ............... ......... .... ... ........ ...... .... ... . ........ .... . ¯ .. the |||| . . .... . ¯ .. the |||| . ... .... . .. the |||| ¯¯. ... . ¯ .. the |||| . . ¯ .. ..
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
I’m…
Sitting in my flat,
To my couch I am thatched,
Kyle’s yelling,
He keeps telling,
Me to,
Get a job,
Like walk straight into one,
I get slightly indignant,
That it’s easier said than done,
He points it out,
So his main demographic
Don’t switch off en-masse,
Ending his quasi-infographic
Combination of hot air and bad gas
Mr. Kyle’s relatable,
He makes an effort
So unlike certain Eton educated conservative western capitalistic illuminati slaves,
He’s not hateable.
SO, my now easily distracted mind turns to Mr.C,
The way his policies A.K.A BEDROOM TAX negatively impact me
The way he forces me into obvious and obnoxious modern day slavery
Through way of a work programme
How he has decided that I need to experience real life life,
Through legislation and universal credit,
Credible implication to make the poorest poorer because they have the gall to spend it
SO my rhyming thought full of tangents
Must now come to end
As the tangent I have accomplished
Is impossible to defend.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 8:14 AM UTC
I rolled my own tobacco tightly, lips pursed through a gormless grin,
As he, the idle Gean Canach, warming up, kisses a lonesome gin,
This dream as told to be his tonic - the bitter slice - so I begin...
Musing over beauty, his admirable hair, warholic an' fitted to wear,
Of Tartan-clad men whose ghosts have chequered stares,
An' Art, Free Speech, Faith, dipped in batter - much to his despair,
Of people, prickened purple as they blow a silent whistle,
To how the sun beams through heather-fields of shared pistols,
An' those scattered morsels of society, left to nothing but the gristle,
To how more questions than answers affect his whispered speech,
Yet he stirs mulling over youth and language receded to their peak,
'...Come, I'll walk you back to your hiding place – safely out of reach...!'
Back home to talk of MacDiarmid and McFarlan, to agree and feel solemn,
As he explains that a poisoned bee carries but only poisoning pollen,
An' how a love of our country, for its freedom, is all we have in common,
He tells of the tears from the Nationalist, nation-less, who lives in arrears,
Of the ink further dried on the receipt of forced union; of some 400 years,
An' that of my friend the leprechaun; ****** on the burnt grass that he shears,
An' now he exclaims - '… Swallow the pound..! Gulp on its hardened flesh...,
...We are as separate - the reluctant strawberry atop this eton mess...,
The majesty of our homes, as one, forever in a state of undress,
...We shall squander fortunes on entire pleasures dear to empty minds,
The resources of our country fixed to the crown with no benefit in kind,
Computerised Tesco's an' ****** at the BBC is all that we will find...'
It is time to take our leave; he has risen sharply an' yet crumbles into a seat,
The fires of the red sun burn for independence with stomping feet,
My dream recited, I wander still, and turn to the fools an' scoundrels on the street.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 11:11 AM UTC
....and who are we that Eton,Harrow do not see,
we are the sinking of the sun,the wreck of the S.S Great Britain has come.
Where once we were the universe,rulers of lands and seas,we have been brought down to our knees to slowly, slowly sink.
Drink and drugs the slugs and snails what ails us,do we know?
Council blocks and towers knock us down to build new towns and the green belt gets much tighter,landfills full up to the brim the doors of opportunity are locked,we can't get in,too fat,too thin,old school ties and gold tie pins and who are we?the
disenfranchised and despised by those that do not see the rising tide of poverty.
Those we passed on our way up are those who put a penny in this beggars cup and wave goodbye,the sky has dropped, the horizon dulled,pulled this and that way,can't pay the bills,drink and drugs the only thrills and betting on the three fifteen to race along another pointless dream,
horsemeat in the freezer section,the four fifteen was my selection which fell at the final fence.
Prozac helps us to relax,fuck the council tax and income band just put two blue pills in my hand and make it seem like it's a dream and we're not sinking,what a scream,a film show,I should go and see the launch,exercise to lose this paunch.
Tomorrow I may rise to see my ship Great Britain back at sea or I could stay in bed and thread excuses on a needle,sew myself a sweater,keep the heat in,can't afford electric fires not like those out in the Shires where logs are burnt,money earnt is money burnt in my opinion.
Back to basics,Luddite hills and give me two more small blue pills,put them on the bills of lading,degrading I can do,but you have so much more and it's ship to shore on the radio,rise me hearties off we go,one more mad dash to make some more cash,undeclared that's only fair,
the revenue can go and ***** and spin upon that middle digit,fidgeting?it must be fleas,do fleas get brought down to their knees?
You see,
in this last scramble to the death I ramble on with my last breath,they haven't taxed my fresh air yet but I bet they will,drink and drugs for one more thrill,up anchor as I will at will to drift away into the sinking of just one more day.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:38 AM UTC
Harriet –
I have wanted to say this
For a million years.
Your face is cruel.
Your daughter
Popped all those balloons because
She didn’t want that party -
And Eton will not
FIX YOUR SON.
This family is split down the middle –
The hard ******** and the
Fruitloops.
Get used to it, Harriet.
Your kids belong to us.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
I awake to a world unfamiliar,
my surrounding not the same,
the sand beneath,
crushed up glass,
the color,
eton blue,
the sky beyond me,
a different hue,
the same color,
but time changes all,
mist in the eves of the earth,
as it heaves,
trees rise from the sand,
reaching farther than the eye can see,
the water at the end,
ripples and fades,
colorless and grey,
a reflection of the same above,
a mirror to a parallel world,
pallid,
pensive,
a contemporary of my own.
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 12:36 AM UTC
They try to ****** you,
reduce you
to quivering mountains of jelly.
(well we won't have that,will we?)
While we're picking up dog ends
looking up our rear ends
they're
sending their sprogs off to Harrow and Eton
making more running dogs,
they think that we're beaten.
On the street where I live,half
of the residents don't live at all,
they vegetate,
a form of somnambulism,
some kind of mistake because the other half
don't give a frig,
this is the gig,this is the play
if you're happy or not they don't care,anyway,
they won't ****** me,
I am cardboard citizen and free,
under the rainbow and off the grid,
still got to bid on a house or a flat
and that's the way of it.
You try and you think that you're free but
you're numbered and name tagged and put in the queue
and all you can do then
is dream of a time when
freedom means freedom and not
medieval serfdom.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 8:11 AM UTC
Over red wine I did not get the off-
side rule. Well, I doubt I’ll understand
now we’ve ended. At least I beat the toff
out of you. It seemed that way at hand,
at least. The Wall put up a good fight,
made me think it a battle I could win.
Ball went over wall, I watched its flight
unaware that what I’d done was thought a sin;
Next time I come across a toff like you,
I’ll remember it just can’t be beaten.
It’s a shame because you seemed worth it too,
but then I guess that’s why you pay for Eton.
My life goes on, pretending I’m not sad,
while you play the Wall-Game with Prince Harry and your dad.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 9:09 AM UTC
Eat your Eton Mess
and all the rest
of the fattening food
you can fit into
your gluttonous guts
Make a display
in front of us
in front of them
in front of me
so we can clearly see
the greed of the aristocracy
Caligula would be proud
to join the ‘Hunt’
to find the fox
to feed the hounds
spattering blood
on red coats
all around
This ‘tradition’
is sedition
to the king of reason
and the queen of hearts
who rule these parts
Jul 4, 2019
Jul 4, 2019 at 7:17 AM UTC
Dear John,
I got your letter,
it's sat here on
my breakfast table and this I swear,
when I am able
I will appoint a minister, to anoint the hearty souls who take such pleasure in taking polls,another one who we'll call John to join the lines on motorways,preferably on busy days.
A minister, I will need to feed the barons of the press some home produced (by my good wife)
bowls of steaming Eton mess.
I shall endeavour to be so clever and put forward bills to fill the grumbling tums of stumbling bums,if they exist at all.
and I won't fall into the trap of thinking this World's round not flat.
Yours
David.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 6:14 AM UTC
At least they roll the credits slowly--
I mean, at the end of DOWNTON ABBEY,
the hundreds who worked their butts off
so you and I could see the stars on screen.
We human beings have been delusional
for millennia. Pharaohs, emperors, kings,
presidents, not to mention tycoons, millionaires--
now billionaires--and "prominent" people
from all walks of life, those who attended
Eton and Andover, the Ivies and Oxbridge
thinking as though they are inherently
better--superior, as it were--to all others
when, in truth, all human beings--indeed,
all creations--share the same divinity.
What a grand illusion it has been, Civilization,
from Sumer to the present! Willl we ever see
truth? Will we ever know that we are all one?
Or will we all perish from catastrophic
climate change or nuclear holocaust before
we achieve enlightenment?
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jan 2, 2022
Jan 2, 2022 at 1:59 AM UTC
Walking through the darkness
A world made of ash
Everyday I keep on walking
My feet keep on burning
Tyrants live in temples
Made of the broken
Relaxing with their
Model girlfriend
Shareholders count their
War dividends as they send
Their children to Eton
While in a distant land
a little girl
just got Shot
Lost in the darkness
Brutality has no ending
Looking to balance the equation
Only finding a black hole
a never ending continuum
As people preach of hope
But are so often wrong
More flowers placed by
The roadside why do the good
Often die young
As single mums struggle
tormented by ex lovers
Who walk away smiling
With their new girlfriend
As the faint hearted
Seek reason where there is none
And sense in the senseless
Like broken glass
can ever have any purpose
But as good deeds do lie
Buried unseen forgotten
In their life only find ruin
Let us not betray the scattered
Lights discarded by life
Thrown to the wind like ash
Let them be our stars
For however dim my shine
However weak I may feel
I stand with God by my side
Holding my hand
Softly whispering
" Please not you Adam
don't let me loose you
too
hang on
let me just love you"
As I promise to hold
Onto goodness
Like a flower
On a cliff edge
And however faint
I maybe
Like a distant star
I shine
And shine
I do
with new hope
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:50 AM UTC
The public debate
a political **********
reminds me
why I hate.
But that's Eton and Harrow not
Toxteth or Jarrow.
I leave the politics to them,
the Southern gentlemen
Up in the shires where men walk on tight wires
and dance to a different song is
where I belong,
from the Midlands to the Tyne where
they drink beer and leave the wine is
another place in time
a place for me.
And while Atlanta burns the gentlemen shall all take turns to **** upon the fire.
but when the hands of 'Ben' unlock and count the votes there'll be a shock when some old lady gets the keys to number ten,
we all remember them old days, the three day week, the hide and seek, the suss', the stop and search, the powers that interrupt, corrupt and end in a debate,
a state of the nation more infiltration, less liberation, more ************
the public schools have fooled us all,
we're ******* but we don't know it yet
we'll get the letter in the post,
the most that we can hope for.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 4:06 AM UTC
Those cranes have earned
their sack of seed
They pulled these pencil turrets
through a sturgeon curd of feckless wet
to leave them where they lay.
Because of this
i sit indifferent, satchelled
in an unmade bed,
a simple- headed almanac
of beige and sable rhetoric.
My heritage;
an Eton mess
of trampled roman candles
left, by careless midnight masses
that come scratching at my door.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 4:59 AM UTC
The Eton mess
the ugliness
they don't impress
me and
I'll never take the hand of
David Miliband.
National front or Ukip
another lot who make me sick,the
take your pick of
politics, the new lunatic
asylum.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
We move along
run with the pack
it seems we've got no choice
and when we want to change the rules,we find
we have no voice.
This suits that lot in parliament who seem hell bent on seeing us living in tents because we can't afford the landlord's rents,
to all intents it seems we've lost a war and some never knew what we were fighting for.
Parliament's an enterprise,a money making scheme,an old boys network for those that don't work,England's glory an Eton and Harrow story
mostly.
I would never advocate anarchy as a get out clause to set us free but the thought occurs that if we had shares in this government we might move out from underneath the yoke, find a voice,crack a joke,
but for now it's just pipe dreams and smoke
and silence in the streets.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 1:17 AM UTC
The country’s broke, but we don't care;
There's opportunity out there
For the savvy billionaire.
But not for you, mate, not for you.
There is no deal, but what the hell?
For our gang things are going swell;
We have high-margin stocks to sell.
But you don't, mate, you don't.
Chaos reigns, but we won't worry.
We shift fortunes in a hurry;
Buy up mansions down in Surrey.
But you won't, mate, you won't.
Cliff edge? We take it in our stride.
We pick advisers trained to hide
Our dodgy money on the side.
But you can’t, mate, you can’t.
Our stooges in the gutter press,
Who helped to bring about this mess,
Will benefit from our largesse.
Unlike you, mate, unlike you.
The well-placed Lord, the Eton boy,
Are weapons which we will deploy
To keep at bay the hoi polloi.
That means you, mate; that means you.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 12:03 PM UTC
kiełbasa - or, alt. kieł - basa - king Vasa of Sweden (Gustav the First), the base of, i.e. based on a canine (kieł); including a rolling pin and a mile of intestines to shove the mince in and later eat.
reading through the style magazine...
what else, a count von Bismarck,
Eton connections - poor schmuck
ought to eat a mouthful of cinnamon
peppered with nail clippings -
it's not jealousy as **** just a sickly Loki
stare at it all - perfect skin, perfect abs,
10 dates a week, whimsical musing
and other attention deficits - i'm just here
to ask about the code of procedures
on the national health service (n.h.s.),
*informer
you no say daddy me snow me-a gon' blame
i lick he *** *** down
'tective man they say, say daddy me snow
me stab someone down the lane
i lick he *** *** down*
days long before Eminem and not quiet
vanilla ice ice baby...
the hippocratic oath shattered on me,
i guess i played the madness game to free myself
from defamation, self-preservation of
the person accused - god, what a parasite i've become,
i never used to obsess, but i've turned into my enemy,
it takes more calories to eat a second of
a thought about that than it would take
drinking a sharpshooter whiskey mix -
so here i am, with my Hölderlin heart -
stone cold stone mad - passive-aggressive infatuated
with Radiohead's kid A - playback from
the heyday of the prog-rock zenith reminded, of;
mind you, i was never into playing solo tennis
against a brick wall with the standard:
violets in may
or should i say
i love the whole affair
of being the spare
in her game of panicky chess
yep, you guessed it, rhyming,
Tenacious D's one note song
summarises what i can't
be bothered to explain
or defend.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 9:03 AM UTC
Well, the maps were quite ghastly, you know;
We’d assumed the Frogs would have a pleasure cruise,
All baguettes and brioche, up the straits.
We’d no idea the Turks had dug in as they did,
As the spooks and their charts
Revealed sheer cliffs,
Harmless as Dover.
Nor did we fare much better on dry land,
The topographical atlases we had in the field
Might have been compiled by Mercator himself.
The Turks fought quite well;
One gives them a measure of credit for that, one supposes.
Frankly, we’d have been better served
If we’d just waited for the de rigueur internecine slaughter,
What with the ease they’d hacked each other to bits
Over some ancient family squabble or inconsequential tribal matter
(Can you imagine civilized peoples
Fighting to the death over such trivia?)
I suppose such cruelty and boorishness
Should have not been surprising.
They wouldn’t take prisoners, you know;
Just shot our boys willy-nilly,
With no regard whatsoever to honor or military convention,
Though it should have been no surprise
That the swarthy ******** would not play by the rules.
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 8:54 AM UTC
well, **** me, it's like being awake
for about a week... minding a *******
ONION!
dos' doss
a'tt even qualify?!
the fuck's the rest?
a **** all peel?
come 'oney, 'ome sanctimony?
your crew?!
'ucking scouse: your m'ah-f'ah
a bitch-schoot...
your mam'aha complete ****
so y'eer mam'ah a ****
good to
know...
no i know what
to **** in public!
fucking wanker industry 'abric!
you don't get
away with slav
playing
out the **** blondine boy!
yo, *******
rat racing ********
riddle a ********
attempt at a 'ackney pristine!
piece of doit!
ever e'ten
raw onions in liver'poi
and not at eton *******
whimp-e-mister?!
m'ah
nye-i-ever...
maroccon delight!
god to love the arab incubators!
little people do
such marvels!
clean windows...
take out of garbage... talk ****
a society like
a ******* mirage!
and am i the one to fear death?
can't see it coming,
meaning:
can it come much sooner?!
white boy a shrimp feeding
factory...
sometimes the odd
toiling shed, and tool...
you ever manage to see
a cow being towed into
A SLAUGHTERHOUSE?!
no?
you haven't exactly been
born... have you?
you know what's funny...
gypsy prostitutes...
they're not sure whether to
associate with romanians
or bulgarians...
can't tell the difference...
but i have one clue
incission: blyat' suka!
pizdetz!
these women are certainly not
either romanian, nor bulgarian...
but they know
one word equivalent of using
bulgar...
jebać pizde!
in cyrillic...
becauase arabic tongue
translates back into an orthodox of
the fathom of body?
nice to know...
that a bowtie isn't tied
according to such grimace of:
expectancy...
or anticipating
a welcome drought...
to later attire donning a tuxedo...
but that is but a half,
and hardly a future...
and what truth is,
history regurgitates as
nought... with the nought
being a tomorrow...
and the subsequence
of history,
being a far removed yesterday...
and yesterday,
being a history,
with a tomorrow
that simply can't exist!
as neither did dinosaurs...
with crocodiles...
but then:
again...
who among arab minds this
to be more concerning,
than the perfect eyebrows of
an arab woman driving
a car....
and whatever buzzfeed
ushers out from its *******
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 10:43 PM UTC
It’s Pretty Clear That I’m LETHAL... !!!
When It Comes To My CEREBRAL.... !!!
And How Its Applied...
When I’m Now Inclined...
To Sit Down And Write...
Rhymes Built For The WISE... !!!
My Cerebral... FLIES...
And Reaches Great Heights...
WITHOUT The Need...
For ******* Supplies... !!!
I Deal With The Green...
That's Grown NATURALLY... !?!
That Supplies Me With HIGHS...
That Then HEIGHTEN My Mind...
... Know What I Mean... ?!?
It Then... INSPIRES Me...
To Be Expressive On Themes...
That Poetically Deal...
With Our REALITY... !!!!!!!
So Indeed My Cerebral...
Flies High Like An Eagle... !!!
So Thats Right CLEARY Sees...
What We Call FALLACIES... !!!
Because of Glands PINEAL...
That See Right Through...
The Eye of A... NEEDLE... !!!
So That’s Right My Cerebral...
Is FAR From........ Feeble... !!!!!
REFUSES EVIL...
And IGNORANT People... !!!
It’s Looking For Partners...
Like Those From Wakanda’...
With Names Like T’Challa...
Panthers Much SMARTER...
Than CERTAIN Forefathers...
Who Dealt With Slave Masters...
And Made Black Lives HARDER...
Than ANY White Charter...
Could Ever NOW DO...
And That Is THE TRUTH... !!!
If You Don’t Believe Me...
Check The History...
of The FIRST African Dude...
To Learn In ETON School... !!!
See My Cerebral Goes Farther...
Than... Marathon Markers...
It Goes WAY BEYOND Miles... !!!
And Rappers Whose Styles...
Profile What Is WILD... !!!
Because of Weak Minds...
That Are FAR From Refined...
And What Some Call... WISE...
These Days I Now Find...
My Cerebral’s Inclined...
To Give Berths...... EXTRA WIDE... !!!
To The The Type of Black Guys...
Who Are TOO FULL of PRIDE And Attitudes Like...
Supremacist Types Whose Skin Tone Is Light... !!!
That’s Right I Mean... WHITE... !!!
Because... Only A SUCKER... !!!
BelIeves That EVERY Brother...
SEES THEM As THEIR Brother... ?!?
And Those Words APPLY...
To ALL Creeds And Colours...
Within... Human Kind... !!!
It’s FOOLISH To THINK...
That You Know EVERYTHING... !?!
But EVEN MORE Foolish...
To Let Your Mind SINK...
Into... DAMAGING Links...
Because They DON’T Think...
In The Way That YOU Think... ?!?
ESPECIALLY IF... !!!
The Way That YOU Think...
And INDEED How You Live...
DEFINES Words Like THIS...
That’s Right HYPOCRITE... !!!
It’s Lyrics Like THIS...
That Prove That My Skin...
Is NOT What Defines...
The Depth of My Mind...
Because Like E Said...
The Rhymes That I Kick...
Come From MY CEREBELLUM... !!!
So Are Balanced And Levelled...
That’s Right... Like My Head...
And... Are Indeed LETHAL... !!!
Because They’re NOT Feeble... !!!
ILLEGAL... Deceitful...
Or Infected By EVIL...
Because They Are.....
........ “ CEREBRAL “........ !!!
Sep 25, 2020
Sep 25, 2020 at 2:35 AM UTC