"frantics" poems
I'll be eaten alive one day:
one day, i see it in my mind
so close to closure along an empty street
late at night
(owls just retired and birds
not yet up),
orbs of light tethered to tall electric poles
cast dappled circles on cracked pavement;
illumination and safety
(for that two metre radius).
Stepping between them
like a girl child on stones
across a garden,
I anticipate each missed step
as sinking into sand or frightful waves.
Singing drunk back-alley lullabies
i'll soothe the skelebabies in their sleep,
their poor crusted noses snuffled against
a cold shift of air
(their private torment plastered over billboards
with corporate logos and dim colours,
suggesting the city's lights have gone out and
the local government is in frantics.
That is, after all, what you'd focus on)
Girl child games were so tipsy and magic
(and so close to real coldness);
between two orbs of light i'll slip
through the cracks
in the pavement.
THE END.
(eat me alive,
eat me alive,
eaten alive by the
wolf at the door)
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
allow me to sting the tip of my tongue to lick
every drop of disappointment
each of these failures
let me drink,
if there only be a God
The god,
a wise one cruel and cunning.
forecast me into a fight grim
fatal and frightening,
wrestle the nails from my fingers,
lay before me the lamb to slaughter for the grin
of knowing:
I do not wake torchless
in the caverns of a beast
(rest, I am no coward)
in place, that I am one
shiv of cement grains more
ahead of the rotting moments
yet to come.
if not,
I pull the recorder
too far,
my humid chest
floods the sacred synapse
pansied blood and frantics
the light dwelling there
I did it idiot I do it to
myself, no else
let there be a light
**** a light
make it turnips, pounded eyeballs
give me
give give give give give
a dry well with a bottom
the color of dust.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
Dj spinning the wheels of steel
Best lyrics I spill that send thrills
Picture perfect Picasso
Make my own moves like Carlito
Move dinero black don Vito
Keep suckas in check
So stay off my grande bicho
We turn culo into closed
Casket I'm.cold heartless ********
That's my persona
Smoke more yay then T Montana
Took a bite of the forbidden monzana
Tell these fools I don't bang
With panics only frantics
Childish antics make for required carcasses
I'm bark up the wrong trees
Rivalries I love em I'm.above em
Eight levels ahead with mad bread
Hotter than a baker
Brew up the hardest thymes
The lyrical barrister call me Mr
Big stuff Cuz my peace heavy d
Mid weight like hos who can shake
They **** looser than Jello
I'm a president never let me peoples go
Modern day pharaoh with a thorough
Of wisdoms hearts full of clay
Which means I'm cruddy no fears
Show ya real tears like when the shot gun
Enters ya body goin at 200 miles per second
I'm reluctant the only one to ever bless the mic when I recite don't try to fight
Only to meet ya fall and mobster even gall
After me butnnever touch my epitome
In the safe house with my spouse
Tucked in ya blouse
Homes!! Ya minstrel cycle leakin'
Which means ya close to shakin'
Hands with the grim reaper
Puff cabbage make the biggest clouds
Now ya resting lovely open casket
Awaiting to be covered with the shroud!!
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
The crows outside my window
Feast on what I have done
And the birds upon the wire
Toss with restless desire
For what I’ve done I’ve locked away
In a cage if prickly bush
And only the smart
Crafty black crows
Can slip to see my mush
Yet last, the crowbrids call
A shrill that warns them all
And ah —alas— in frenzy of fear
The crafty black crow
Seeing no exit clear
Frantics and pushes
All against the spines
And traps itself in
And having no option
All it does is scream
And no one could hear
It’s desperate dying dream of
Freedom
And soon enough, as days passed by
The crows feast again
On mush twice the size
And the birds on the wire
Still violently wish
That they too could pick
If only it wasn’t so sick
Mar 29, 2022
Mar 29, 2022 at 8:07 PM UTC
Cause **** the ******** and the antics
That **** must be for some kind of frantic
And if I don't swallow another pill-ill-ill
ill turn into one of those very frantics
I tried so hard to not be like
Cause **** the ******** and the antics
Not trying to be put in a scary painting
Standing still and painted by someone else
That's why the high is so nice
But you get mad at me for it
For what ?
Being happy and fascinated with life
Is what you get with one of my pearls
Swear to god i'll help you paint a picture
The good the bad it soaks into my skin
And becomes better even when it's just scary
Dec 8, 2019
Dec 8, 2019 at 1:53 PM UTC