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Cecil Miller Jun 2015
I don't believe in Cain and Abel.
It is, like, a fairy tale; a fable.
If the world had no glocks,
We could defend ourselves with rocks.
I was sporting with fb friends about a sign that cited the first credited ****** in the world in the gun control debate. I wanted to respond in a cute way. Is bringing up the idea of ****** really a good idea when beseeching to have less gun control?
This tough front,
This altogether unlikeable first impression,
This mean, crude obnoxious scumbag,
This despicable misogynist,
This cynical misanthropic madman,
“Wassup wit dat?”
Enquiring fans of poetry want to know.
Simply stated, 'tis my oldest modus operandi,
Self-protective, learned street behavior;
My don’t-****-with–me first line of defense.
Surely some form of survival mechanism;
Meant in the narrow psychological sense.
Evidence of mental health or illness,
My cloaking device and shield,
Gift from Jove, my goombah father.
Dad: a powerful force in any child’s universe—
Be the patriarch dead, absent, retired on the job,
Out of the picture, just plain missing--or insane,
The latter, something you may not
Want to know about your gene pool.

So I’m really just a *****.
Forgive the expression, Germaine Greer.
A pussycat and big old teddy bear,
Mr. Sensitivity:
Wiping a warm washcloth between your legs.
Across puffed & pouted lips, gently.
After shooting a load of *** into you.
Or on your face: Spumante!

No, strike that last part.
Let’s start again.
I am a kind soul, a precious man.
The sort who likes animals;
Puppies, especially, and kittens too.
Savoring sunsets and flowers,
I serve you sweet gelato & Asti.
Sometimes I’ll spumante you with original love poetry.
My Muse: your gorgeous body delights me,
Your brilliant mind & noble spirit inspires.
Each night of the week I surprise you,
Prepare for you an exquisite home-cooked gourmet meal.
Served with your favorite Pinot Noir,
Brought to your elegant, candlelit dining room table,
By yours truly, wearing only a scarlet bow tie
And black silk jockstrap.
(Starting to get into this, Maureen Dowd?)
Later I’ll run you a relaxing bath,
So you’ll have something to do,
While I wash the dishes, scrub the pots,
Do a load of whites, clean your bidet,
And Swiffer®  (www.swiffer.com) the entire house.

By then, you are ready for your nightly spa treatment,
A 15-minute, deep tissue massage,
Followed by a hot oil treatment.
Next up is 30 nonstop delirious minutes,
Me, going down on you, without
Seeking any ****** gratification for myself.
In the morning I’ll make macadamia nut pancakes,
Your favorite, and brew you a fabulous cup of coffee,
From freshly ground beans, very rare beans
Salvaged from Karen Blixen’s last crop, before the fire
Completely destroyed her plantation in Kenya.
"I had a farm in Africa, Babaloo!

You can go shopping from dawn to dusk
With Ruth Madoff, while I go out & lose my soul,
Selling Dominican Republic timeshares all day and all night . . .  
(Cue West Indies Calypso: “All Day, All Night, Mary Ann!”)
Calypso-Harry Belafonte Songs, Reviews, Credits,
Awards www.allmusic.com/album/calypso. 1956.)
I’ll still find the time to open up for you
A line of credit at your favorite nail salon.
I’ll pay for weekly bikini waxes, hair and Botox treatments,
And the odd cosmetic surgery you may require.
I’ll pay your cell phone bill; I’ll pay off your college loans.
I’ll send money to your extended family in the Ukraine.
Yeah, that’s the kind of guy I am.
Your life with me will be every woman’s dream.

And, if you believe that,
You soulless Ukrainian ****,
Then monkeys will fly out of my Wayne’s World ****,
You stupid capital C for ****-*******,
Capital B for *****.
THIS JUST IN:
“Arms and the Woman,”
An article in Time Magazine, conveys a statistic:
Some 20 million women in the U.S. own guns.
As the NRA instructs:
Guns don’t **** people.
Women with Glocks **** people.
Classy J Jun 2021
Loyalty
They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.

They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.

Glocks aimed at cops,
Glocks aimed back at someone’s pop,
Many lives have been lost over Gaup.
Gaup that buys whips and thots.
All got something to prove,
But to who?
All got something to lose,
What will you choose?
If money equal power,
Than why is the taste so sour?
After all the castles and ivory towers.
You’re left a lonely dragon like bowser.
Loyalty tell me what it means to me?
To hang with royalty,
Or help those in poverty.
The place I used to be.
Helping people like me.
That society has coated with a cloak of invisibility.
Because they can’t stand minorities.
And that’s why we can’t stand authorities.
A toxic cycle that stems from a different ideology.
Instead of equality,
We have uniformity,
Instead of democracy,
We have white supremacy.
Instead of loyalty,
We have hypocrisy.

They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.

They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.


Too many broken promises,
I feel like James Sie,
Losing all his cabbages.
But since we are deemed as savages,
All the damages attributed,
Are treated as shenanigans,
Instead of answering calls to action,
We have a government completely dumbfounded.
Instead of compassion,
We are harassed and hounded.
We still got all lot of work to do.
And I hope one day we’ll have a breakthrough!
For we all got something to prove?
But to who? Maybe for me or for you!
All got something to lose,
If we never take the time to put on another’s shoe.
So, what will you choose?
Will you help light the fuse?
Or treat this issue like your alarm clock,
And put in on snooze?
Who will you be loyal to?
Your heart? Or to your privilege?
Hmm…

They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.

They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.
Keith J Collard Jan 2013
"Wow, what a mansion!"--Albert Wesker RE1


Gothic mansion, where every warrior lost it,
head, heart, and soul--as Faust did,
there walks a scientist who's blood is acid,
with glasses that turn to shade--death reactive.

" Who dares touch my holster" he says bombastic.
as walls evaginate victims, send out vines,
it is from Jesus' in the crowd--Mathew--his lines.
the sight of thorax, stinger and fang,
******* the slain,
do not phase him, for he is phase-less,
turn off receptors of pain, and all is pain-less.
A fallen teamate, still and a'swarm,
the black shades do not mourn,
as thorax crawls ontop of her
but laughs at the irony of a female,
impregnated with ovipositor.

He helped design those creatures,
and--he is her traitorous leader.

Howling night forest, awakens the staff,
as if they sleep facedown in saltwater tides,
shuffling and whale moaning, as if  harpooned--
going to lonely depths to die.
then there are the hunters, reptilian apes,
can open locked doors with skeleton claw,
move to quick in hallways,
why pump buttstock you saw.
Pepper the **** on the bed with full load,
with zombies fellating down to bone,
scream through your muzzle,
slide room apart in jigsaw puzzle.
then watch your six for the hunter,
it is stalking you, wants to put its foot on your face,
and dig in, then kick its leg--and rip off your skin.
retreat from hunters and faces bloated with cadaverine,
find a safe room to safely scream.
Sit down at the bar, pull scotch from its coffin,
on counter, rest pump and Colt python,
do not think of the things you will die from.
there are three darts in the bullseye,
in William Tell style,
but the board is in fashion of an atom,
with electrons in orbit,
the  numbers are the human genome,
and a surgical marksman has scored it.
He is Wesker, and this mansion is his tester,
blood and bone is both colors of his litmus,
horribles awaiting in dark room pay witness.
his muzzle flashlight's rooms with hot spark,
entry beats claw swing, shades now clear in dark.
they say in total black silence, one will go crazy,
from the sound of their heart.
but "My trigger that squeezes within,
charged from pupil's firing pin,
sweet semi-auto strokes of violin."
as he vaunts over dying beast,
and darkness returns to his shades,
from moon light through window,
reflecting knifes on wall from moon in wane.
he slicks back a loosed strand,
locks the door behind him, and continues with his plan.
" In my father's mansion are many rooms,
" I'll go prepare a room for you." he mocks, as he walks,
with parabellum hollow points and acid round glocks.
This is his mansion, he is Achilles loosing knees,
he is warrior and scholar, a student of Thucidydes.
team-mates--out air holes in jungle boot bleed,
blood seeping through pants--
olive drab uniform now fatigue.
rooms: blood grooves running down your bayonet--
traps-- channeling you to your death.
prop open  oaken door with knife, hope  it will hold,
walk to the far side of parlor,
the sound of medieval bolt.
door spits out knife,
just scream through keyhole.
The iron maiden taper is coming slowly,
do not let it go through non-vitals,
a slow way to die,
take it through frontal lobe behind eye.
alas a team-mate hears your screams,
in the sepulchal hall,
door swing, and out of deaths thrall.

Charley Mike: continue mission,
and paint the walls black,
with dead flesh backsplash,
gun or nerves jam, then die a ripping death,
smell a cannibals breath.
Be it known, the man in black and strap,
laughs off exposed rib cage slats,
with only a scrape to his pistol belt.

Enter the man in reactive shades,
Picture a alligator, calm, age old in the everglades.
One in the brain, and none in the chest,
those extra shots for rooks, without prowess.
" Wesker, you'll pay for this treachery," invoking Karma,
but the man in black measures her tears as he harms her.
So all that enter mansion portal,
and reach the basement, before becoming morsel,
finally catching up with Wesker,
no more trail of labotomized minds,
and jaws and eyes in epileptic shock,
from a calm trigger squeeze of glock.
Face to face with the master of the saxon race,
mastering gunpowder under the scope,
and you hear the hunters off distant,
primal howls and hissing.
Listen to what the man in black says,
the mortal contest is over,
and he has a virus to offer,
" Die here, and your death will be longer than your life,"
says the man, who's shooting hand is the reapers scythe.
" But live with this virus, and you will never die."
but watch the sun burn out in the sky."
You can refuse him, and face the nightmare creatures alone,
adding your skeleton to the calcium of mansion stone.
or take the virus that invaded the first cell,
invading mitochondria,
making 'other men' the meaning of hell.

" Come decide, lest I go prepare a room for you".--
From powder burns,  your tears are black,
eardrums ring from screaming contest of
chrome python against giant asp.
shoulder numb from combat loading shotgun,
thumbing shells straight to chamber--
almost cyclic.
blood in boots: not much fight left.
your friends are dead, and you answer,
" I rather die forever traitor, to rid the world of your cancer."

In my masters mansion, are many rooms,
dying, crying, moaning: eternal tombs.
how resident evil the movie should have felt.......I only cite the 96 video game, which only shared the setting with my poem.
Sarah Flynn Oct 2020
“you ain’t a man until you’re given a gun.”
he said. but I knew better.
giving a boy a gun
doesn’t make him a man.
it makes him a boy with a gun.

my hands were made for pens, not glocks.
I told him his were too.
he laughed and said,
“nah, my hands are made the same
as every other boy on this block.
you cut off my finger, it’s still gon’ bleed.”

I tried to argue but he said,
“these hands steal ****.
money, jewelry, clothes.
hell, these hands steal lives!”

and he was right about that.
he had the same dirt on his hands
that any other boy around here had.

still, I think his hands
were made for pens, not glocks.
maybe he would’ve picked up a pencil
if his hands hadn’t gotten
so used to holding a gun.

he was nineteen.
he was young and angry
and ready to fight,
and he didn’t know exactly why,
but he knew he had to be.

the streets here are where people
disappear when it gets dark,
and where no one asks questions
when the sun comes up.

there are no flowers
growing next to the sidewalk.
here, there are bags of crack
and gold chains and Cuban cigars.
there are plants here, but no flowers.

I was taught that here,
they don’t follow laws,
but they need to follow rules.

most rules here are unwritten.
instead, they are ingrained
into the street’s children,
a mantra that you could die
for not remembering.

he said, “if I die,
it’s gon’ be sprawled out on concrete.
no way I’m going down
without a fight.”

here, they are still fighting wars
that ended years ago everywhere else.

here, they grow up without
mothers and fathers.
they learn to feed themselves
as soon as they no longer
need a baby bottle.

here, it is strange
to not join in on the violence.
it is strange to not participate
in drive-by shootings.
it is strange to not want revenge.

here, strange is dangerous.
things are the way that they are
and this is the way they have always been.

here, he was any other
nineteen-year-old boy.
here, they would say he died naturally.
he stepped a little too far into view
and a bullet struck him in the right spot.
or the wrong spot,
depending on how you see it.
quick and almost painless for him,
but that hurt moved on to everyone else.

here, there are no rights and no wrongs.
things are not good or bad.
things simply are.

his mama sobbed when
she heard what happened.
she cried for him, but also
for every other boy on the block.

she cried for the boy
who ended her son’s life,
because she knew
he wasn’t any different
than any other boy here.

she cried for all the mothers
who lost their sons,
and for all the children
born into this life.

here, they don’t have to die
for you to lose them.
this life takes them from you,
dead or alive.

he was a friend,
and a brother, and a son.
he could’ve been
a writer, or an athlete,
or a ******* astronaut
for all I know.

but in the end,
he was only a boy with a gun.
here, they call that a man.
cable news video brilliantly captures
the blood washing Parisian gutters
glittering in City of Lights sparkle

images of carnage coagulate in my mind
clotting my heart with searing resent

in desperate need for release
from the abject scorn
that boils within my veins

I flip the channel to
watch a Predator marathon
but light entertainment
fails to satiate my restive soul

I turn down the volume
and click back to News

My iPod is audio ready
to soothe the savage beast
with some righteous death metal
I blast my earbuds,
Culture of Death's new CD
prepares me for real action
  
ever at the ready
digital recreation
has me *******
my controller
mustering up my
Call of Duty
comrades

I am a recognized
high score battlefield hero
taking out godless apostates
in the global war on terrorism

I'm usually eager to
baptize Iraqi jihadis in a
Holy Ghosting
bloodbath
but tonight
Black Ops kills
fails to thrill
my controller and I
stand down

opening the gun case
I cradle my Bushmaster
the smooth barrel and rugged stock
feels so right in my hand

it pleasures me to know
I am one of the good guys with a gun
I relish the fear and respect
I garner during open carry
troops to McDonalds
the hairs on the back of my neck
sometimes titillatingly rise

one day I hope to
take out an active shooter
at a movie or the supermarket
that would be way cool

I place my Bushmaster
back into the cabinet
and carefully rearrange
one of my Glocks

yet even with this
considerable armory
I still feel insecure
it may be time
for a trip to Walmart
to secure another Glock
*** more ammo

my heart recovers a bit when
I think about tomorrows recon trip
to my tree stand in the Jersey Highlands

Bear season starts soon
for the past few weeks
I've baited the area with
Dunkin Donuts and bacon grease
I've detected lots of bear ****
can't wait to drop one of those suckers
I visualize one in my gun sights
should be easy pickens

my CD ends with
some real raucous ****
removing my earbuds
I turn up the volume
on the News

footage from last summer's
Black Lives Matter demonstration
runs in continuous loop
members of the
New Black Panther Party
are yelling into the camera
a woman in a black burka
her eyes squinting angrily at me
from underneath her cover
sends shivers up my spine

when we take our country back
they will be served some
Second Amendment justice

News flashes Ted Cruz
condemning Muslim
refugee resettlement,
in a Christian Nation
only Christians should be
allowed in...

News breaks back to footage
from the concert venue
highlighting the
blood stained mosh pit

News flashes ISIS Jihadis
riding in Humvee's
routing the fleeing
Iraqi army once again

News highlights a smiling Putin
firing off Caspian Sea cruise missiles
into the bleeding Levant
examples of decisive leadership,
if only Obama could grow a pair

News flashes to a Rose Garden Obama
bragging about killing Jihad Johnny

the drone strikes and
active bombing campaigns in:
Syria
Iraq
Libya
Somalia
Nigeria
Mali
Yemen
Sinai
Afghanistan
Kenya
Congo
and other unspecified locations
are working says the Muslim Prez

By the looks of Paris
any real American Patriot
would think not

we need to send a message
a quick strike fix
some major shock and awe
to placate a nations troubled soul

if that offends any Christian
turn the other cheek
wimp, so be it

I say go
Old Timey Testament on their ***
let our vengeance is mine God
**** them all
**** them all
**** them all

Culture of Death:
Cystic Dysentery

Barry McGuire:
Eve of Destruction

The Doors:
The End


jbm
11/17/15
Newark
lots of hate going round since the murderous tragedy in Paris....
let cooler heads prevail.....
be still and know that I am God....
***** Hands
Are they clean?

Pontius Pilate, washing those hands that night, now are the filthy deeds made white!

America, do tell about the politicians blind-eyed toward homeless people in the streets, tell me about children starving to death?

Does a wealthy man cleanse hiimself as the blood leaves his hands?

Banning guns & glocks, as girls
are sold into slavery, in the blocks.

A gift for kids to go to school
It's not a gift to get shot up.

From poverty to bullies to school shootings, Mrs. Liberty has lost her footing.

When we go home, locking doors and turning the noise up, is washing of the hands with soap, making us whole?
You can't just wash your hands as a symbol
of making yourself from sinful to cleansed. It's a cruel world so be kind. © 5 minutes ago, Venjencie Clifton Arnold   society • poverty • sad • pain • misc • love  
Like (0)
Katlego Tladi Oct 2014
Reality hanging by a thread.
Coke cans and cannons by my bed.
Show girls shooting up to the head.
Solace for the strong, seizures for the dead.

Pac in the boombox
If the packs don't boom I hope the boom pops.
If the boom don't pop she got a new pops.
Red lips serving blows up on the new blocks.

Humble pie in my abode in a bid to abide.
But the coke on the stove says the law is a lie.
Caught slipping, no snitching so my name shall survive.
Out in 10, when I return
Throw some paper to the sky, let the wind and caution colide.

I'll need a long island on the rocks.
Escape the piles we turn to rocks.
We held their lives within our glocks.
The doors were locked so we turned to the knocks.

Boys in the hood with the little coke babies.
Girls in the hood holding little hope babies.
Daddy never came but we live in hope baby.
All I had were bricks, had to build a home baby.
When Sophistication and Ignorance meet. Sparks fly.

I wrote this purely on impulse. I just woke up and started typing. Then I stopped, Listened to Kendrick's Section80, watched Al Pachino's Scarface and got back to it.

If you don't understand it you shouldn't. The echelons play a vital part in life, know yours.
Bless!
All i know is the ghetto
And scandalous tricks
In stilettos ya know
Jealousy follows that the
Black society creeds
N i bleed
Through pressure and pain
Since i took the throne
I embraced the reign
Heir of my past pioneers
Listen clear
J Hendrix dropped a tear
Out the sky catch the purple haze
Buzz contact
So all you haters get off my bozack
My folks dont know how to act
Quick to react
Bad temper with the barrel of a gat
Facin' death
Heartbeatin' faster than humming bird
Yup i seen a man die
So **** what you heard
This is for homies thugs drugs dealer
Murderers to serial killers
Representin' real hits
Penetrate the heart of the beast
WASHINGTON aint never been fair
So if you see us mobbin' yo hood
We dont care


But this is for my homies




I got a tear stained letter
From my one of my homies homies
Who got murdered by a 9 baretta
Cuz he came up short on the cheddar
Instead cuttin' em slack
He wanted his life back
But aint no reasonin' with a gat
Pointed at ya pate
Seen death servin' on his plate
Two shots execution style
The killer smiled he knew it was foul
But thats the way it is
Things will never change
It makes my skin mange
Wish i could rearrange
The game
But fools rather remain the same
Wither it be pistols to glocks to shot guns
There's always a soul on the run
I bet i can dance underwater
And not get wet
So go ahead and send ya death threats
Cold covert mission is eyeing me
Keep my ******* to society quietly
Riotin' the scene
Takin' enemies along with me
If ya know what i mean??


But this is for my homies
I was born on March twelfth, the nineties is my generation.
Everybody grab your pen and pad this is the preparation
and I’m not talking about gang banging selling vegetation.
Prepare for random knocks hide your glocks comes confiscation.
It’s like we all apart of Wii just need recalibration
Control your mind soul body focus concentration
and clear your mind and think positive in isolation.
Our bodies feel the pain, soul faces condemnation.
Prepare yourself for starvation and dehydration
I carry the Bible and a compass as my navigation
and with the Gospel of peace the helmet of salvation
I am a soldier of righteousness not the nominated
because the nominated moving towards *******
beware of imitations because that leads to infiltration
just close your eyes and you will feel the negative vibrations.
I believe it’s time we all stop going to power station
I don’t think our grands died for our relaxation
our president is black you all went into hibernation
while I’m standing tall facing these administrations
because I didn’t know the constitution had an expiration.
©
Written 2009-2010
I lived once ago before death
Came and took my soul away
My hoodie is stained with blood and ash
I am so lost they worry as well
To how we got to this hell
I ask them stories to reclaim my brain
One girl says she was on a date
The man she met was nice and sweet
Until it was a quarter til eight
He grew very strange and became irate
He pulled her to the back o no
Quickly unzipped his pants to ******
She felt so much pain and shame
After he stopped he drew a gun
Cocked it
shot her
then smiled
and run
How horrible I thought to die like that
I asked a boy no older than 6
He said he is here but don’t know why
His story was like a newspaper blackeye
Playing with blocks while mom cook grits
The door opened up his brother walked in
To give a toy that he always liked
It was an army man just like his dad
But then that’s when his shirt turned plaid
His shirt stained with red lines all over
He grew real cold his mother in tears
It seemed his brothers gang life came home
Two stories with endings that ached my dome
As I walked past a tv I saw
My truth being told to me
“17 year-old walking back from school
With music in ears the hood on top
However his life would see a drop
A man called in with a compliant
And the cops came looking for a mess
But found a boy who they drew at
Behind his back their guns are raised
4 stop movings
0 warning shots
and then
Un phased
they unloaded their glocks
He fell another live lost.”
My heart
It drops
now I see
why the stain
We are all victims of violence or fear
The world just throws us away like beer
I miss my mom I miss my color
I miss my skin I miss my hair
I miss knowing that I knew love
Now I know my life was never
Going to fit in this world like a
Hand in a glove
Marshal Gebbie Aug 2023
Everything is BIG here.

Meals are big, bums are big, cars are huge and the skies are a million miles wide.

Janet and I are travelling in the Northwest of the United States of America, spending time with Boaz and Lisa in Idaho, Steve Yocum in Oregon and Greg and Linda in Washington State.

The trip is a "quickie" in that we are fitting one helluva lot into just three weeks duration.
Never in all my days have I seen such huge quantities of food served up in restaurant meals, plastic bags discarded, American flags fluttering and all the young, blonde girls in tattered, impossibly short cut offs and sleeveless tops talking loudly, incomprehensibly at a million miles an hour ......Just blows you away!!
Monstrous pickup trucks, Rams, Broncos, big V8s travelling the freeways continuously. Sheriffs, troopers and Road cops all wearing firearms on the hip, in their souped up pursuit vehicles parked on the roadside shoulder, eyeballing everyone as they pass, with a mean, accusatory glare.
Out on the range there is a million square miles of nothing but sage brush and basalt rock....and searing, baking heat.
114 degrees in the painted desert of Moab. Beautiful though with vaulting red sandstone cliffs and rearing stone arches against the blue-est of blue skies.
Standing pillars of ancient sedimentary rock born in depositions laid down in vast oceans of bygone eras, millions of years ago.

History is painted vast in this immensity. The gigantic and abrupt catastrophic inundation of a vast and deep inland sea, swelled suddenly by floodwaters of rivers diverted by lava flows from subterranean fissures....Unimaginable torrents abruptly released, gouging out ancient lava beds to create gigantic waterfalls and deep, sheer sided chasms.

Cascades that constituted the biggest river flow ever known in the history of the planet, washing away everything from the epicentre of the continent in Utah through Idaho to the Pacific ocean in the rugged coast of Oregon. Such was the Bonneville flood of 12,000 years ago illustrated today by the gigantic chasms created in the beds of basalt and rhyolitic larva throughout Idaho and the fields of massive, round, house sized boulders strewn from the floods origin near what is now, Salt Lake City in Utah to the coast in Oregon, a thousand kilometers away.

The two weeks stay with Boaz and Lisa just disappeared in a flash. They took us down to Moab painted desert, Zion National park, the Craters of the Moon, Monument National Park and up to Stanley and the Sawtooth mountains by the mighty Salmon river. Janet and I took advantage of a couple of push bikes hanging in the garage and spent most days cycling the local trails and visiting Starbucks for a celebratory cappuccino or two....Those bikes saved our bacon, walking trails in that heat was ******. Great hospitality enjoyed here. watched reruns of Sopranos on Boaz's 70 " SmartScreen TV and enjoyed Arnie's escape from postwar Austria to Mr Universe and fame and fortune @ Hollywood with Boaz whilst enjoying chilled margaritas in the hot tub.

The camaraderie of meeting an old mate of 45 years past, Steve Yocum of Oregon  a fellow writer and author. Both of us intent on shooting the breeze, putting the world to right. In some ways a sad exercise in that no longer can either of us make things right for with age upon us, neither has influence. We can huff n puff n blow the house down....but it seems, nobody pays the slightest bit of attention. The penalty of age is invisibility. The relief in it all is that, really, nobody actually gives a hoot!

Just two Old Dogs letting off steam..... it's rather cathartic actually! Thanks to Stevo, Ian and lovely Heidi for the accommodation, great hospitality and warmth.

The cool atmospheric relief of the serene and calm, Puget Sound in Seattle, Washington state gave welcome respite from the intense heat of the interior and the serenity of our cottage accommodations and startlingly beautiful garden surrounds. A forest of conifers and deciduous trees harboured gardens of blooming roses, hollyhocks and multihued cone flowers, emerald lawns carve swarths of sunlight in avenues of deep, green shade....a delight for the sunburnt brows of yesterday's heat.
Woken by the bassoon blast of the passing early morning ferry out in the waterway, to stroll out to sit at the very edge of the sandy, pebble beach and gentle surge of the deep, clear saline waters of the magnificent Puget Sound.
The peace of early morning crisp cool air, a seascape of moored fishing boats on mirrored waters, the distant Olympic range rearing to its' full 7,000 ft against a powder blue sky left us quite breathless with the utter beauty of it all....add to that a lovely breakfast offering of fresh berries, kiwifruit slices and yogurt and a chilled glass of fresh squeezed orange juice...and we absolutely, couldn't want for anything more. To Greg and Linda our love and thanks for giving up your beautiful bed, travelling us around beautiful Seattle and being our airline coach to and from Portland. We shall return the warm hospitality next time you hit NZ and Taranaki.

Vulcanism has dominated the terrain in Idaho, Montana, and Utah. Continental drift westward of the land mass has brought about a steady transference eastward of the massive geothermal hot spot which currently lies in Yellowstone park and which is the source of all volcanic activity within the park..
Idaho, in ancient times, wore the volcanic mantle of the region in having truly gigantic rhyolitic ash and magmatic eruptions. These cataclysmic eruptions emptied deep cavernous, subterranean magma chambers which collapsed under their own weight leaving vast circular calderas in the landscape. Subsequent plate tectonic activity caused deep faulting allowing huge flows of sticky magma to surge to the surface like searing hot black toothpaste, spreading across the plains obliterating all evidence of the rhyolite caulderas, surfacing the state, to this day, with millions of acres of hard black basaltic rock.
Here and there, rhyolite has wormed its way to the surface building gigantic domes, over the centuries these have weathered leaving statuesque, dramatic flat-topped mesa scattered across the landscape.
Altogether a truly unique and enthralling terrain for visitors to behold and one which reveals a dramatic insight to the volcanic and tectonic violence of the recent past and gives a definite air of mystique to the beholder.

In a land of 360 million people, supermarkets are downright huge...and they contain the spoils of the nation's plenty.
Acres of dazzling variety... and cheap by international standards. The very best of prime beefsteak, sides of pork, Alaskan cod freshly caught and displayed in rows of chilled enticing exhibit. Every possible vegetable and fresh picked fruit known to man in piled pyramids of brilliant, colourful display. Beautiful ornate furniture, beds, mattresses, tiers of car tyres of every conceivable brand and size, wheelbarrows, fertilizer, fresh flowers in mountainous display, ***** in barnlike chillers. Supermarket trolleys for giants..... and gird yourself for a marathon hike in collecting your basket of groceries...and give yourself half a day....you'll need it!

America has momentum, huge momentum. Across vast tracts of country lie networks of highway. Multilane concrete that tracks mile after mile carrying huge trucks with 40 tonne loads. Incessant trucks, one after another,  thundering along carrying the lifeblood of America, merchandise,  machinery, infrastructure, steel, timber and technology. Gigantic mobile freezers hauling food from the grower to the markets. Hauling excavators, harvesters,  bulldozers and giant Agricultural tractors. Night and day this massive source of production careers across the nation transporting the promise of America, the momentum which drives the Stars and Stripes onward, ever onward.

On the margins of the cities of Portland and Salem the unhoused gathered in squalid tent communities. In the beautiful city of Seattle I saw many down and out unshaven, untidy individuals with hopelessness in their eyes, pushing supermarket trolleys containing their sparse possessions. I drove through rural communities, some of which, reflected hardship and an air of despair. Run down dwellings in need of maintenance and repair, derelict rusty vehicles adorning the **** strewn frontages.
Not 20 kilometers away in Ketchum and Sun Valley Idaho the homes were palatial in grounds tended by gardeners and viticulturalists. Porsches and Range Rovers graced the ornate, rusticated porticoes. Wealth and privilege in evidence in every nuanced nook and cranny.
America is, indeed, a land of contrasts, a land of wealth, privilege, and plenty..... and yet a land that, somehow, tolerates and abides a fragile paucity which emblazons itself, embarrassingly, within the national profile.

On a hot day in Twin Falls, Idaho, I walked into a huge air-conditioned sporting goods store specifically to look at guns....and in the long glass cases there were hundreds of them. From snub nosed revolvers to Glocks, 38s, 45 caliber even western style Colt 45s and the ***** Harry Magnum with the long, blue gun barrel and classic, prominent foresight.
In the racks behind the counter are hung fully and semi-automatic rifles of myriad types...all available for sale providing the buyer has appropriate licensing.
In a land where mass shootings proliferate weekly, I ask myself....does this availability of lethal weaponry make sense?

The aching beauty of the mountain country in Northern Idaho, Oregon and Washington state cannot be overstated. The Sawtooth mountains, the Cascades, Mt Ranier, Mt Hood and the Olympic range. Ridgelines of towering conifers as far as the eye can see, waves of green deciduous running down to soft grassy clearings with boulder strewn, rushing streams and the cascade of plunging waterfalls. The magnificence of the natural beauty of this rugged, heavily timbered mountain country just defies description being far, far isolated from the attentions of man.

To happen upon this country from the far distant reaches of the South Pacific is a culture shock, to be suddenly exposed to the extreme largess. It is difficult to calibrate, hard to encompass, impossible to assimilate....but the people encountered warmed us with their generosity of spirit, their willingness to welcome travelling strangers into their homes....and, of course the invaluable time we spent with our family….and for these factors alone together with the huge magnificence that is this........
GRAND AMERICA.
We are truly, truly grateful.

Janet & Marshal
Foxglove@Taranaki.NZ
DaSH the Hopeful Oct 2014
Generation Information:
Running 'round, drugs in cases
Even if ya hate ya placement
Time moves faster with some patience
Seniles claim *conspiracy;

Wonder what kinda bombs we makin'
FOURTEEN MILLION DIVORCED PARENTS
Raising kids who feel forsaken
Walking round with Glocks, hoping they don't get blammed next,
No Christmas anymore;
Santa Claus is hooked on *Xanax

And once you get outta Hell
Get framed and put in jail
Its hard to crawl from the bottom back up to the place you fell
We say we work in retail
But shoes ain't what we sell,
So please cover your ears
Don't listen to what we tell.
Children taught to be pitiless
**** anybody with viciousness
Shot too high
Expecting adults
And that's where the militias went
Murdered by a lonely kid who got no Love
Trained to pull a weapon if push comes to shove
Look up in the sky
They made Ravens outta doves
*Sinned so much, afraid to ask forgiveness from above
This is my Generation
Ginamarie Engels Feb 2011
i like to be wise with my beautiful brown eyes
my thick thighs and my voluptuous size
fruit flies sticking to me cause i'm so sweet
i make the beats but dont eat that red meat
sensitive but calm and super duper collected
will get you wrapped around my finger, kid
pinky promises is how i keep it real
drinkin' tall boys, always breakin' the seal
addicted to my flavor, youll be on dis fashionistaquena
part puerto rican, but got money but not enough lend ya
crowds call my name and it keeps on echoin'
famous like the amos cookies, keep my green in a tin
i'm so frickin' visual, ROYGBIV colors make me trip all day
so vib-rant, i spy a red ant and rainbows are the color "gay"
lets collaborate, take your hands & drop all the hate, i just ate...
chips and dip, my lip ring fell out so i put in a paperclip
bobbypin in my hair, my lion locks
i'm like uffie "i pop the glocks"
Check my frequency static stations easily
See haters after me cuz I invoke catastrophe
To all of my adversaries backed by hells army
Y'all can't harm me turning ****** into barbie
Dolls catch ya slippin' in the bathroom stalls guess death answered yo
Call still holding my ***** ******* to the laws
Raw as **** uncut lyrics made to gut
MC jaggernaut and what not? Strategized with plots
You can tell I'm from Houston cuz I rap alot
Smoke a few glocks that'll make  bodies rock
Hearse flow see how many I can make go
Six feet below my beef is eternal inferno
Feel the temperature rise in my
eyes
Ruthless forever as an outlaw so I'm destined to rise
Double my size fools need to
realise
My raps untouchable say y'all killers but NOOO?
******' with me you'll be sleepin' with blood on the floor
I'm ******* like nineteen ninety six deep in the mix
Watch for the snakes in the pit they nothin' but culprits
Mad at me cuz my money ain't spent ahhh ****
Another hit made by the ***** King Tut cut
Off my loyalties cuz they undercover enemies
Hidden tactics improvise my
  Machivelli
Skills gettin' them kills ending weak
  wills
Now I just signed your bills and still
We the rawest
regardless **** any other hating *** artist
We polish 'em
By a landslide makin' casket hides it's suicide
Tryna step to the Southside mafiaso
So
back back before you get ya wig pushed back
My raps more addictive than street crack
Giving the fiends an ear dose til they overdose
From playin' to close to the devil's playground
Though his son in law keep the lyrics raw
This is the styles of an immortal Texas outlaw
Letting off my lyrical shells makin'
hell
**** being carried by six I'd rather go be judged
by a panel of twelve well???
Sam Temple Dec 2015
**** blocked by
wannabe rock stars
in tube socks
standing on the block
like the 2001 Rock
ready to drop candy *****
and knock blocks off of
those who would mock
**** strap wearing
disk jockey’s –
cocky cockney Spock impersonators
lock glocks in boxes so the foxy chicks
won’t flock to the professed
smock of Sherlock Holmes
or dock their paper ships
on the jagged rocks
jutting up from the oceanic
tectonic plate –
frocks adorned with Reeboks
shock the locksmith
busily hocking his shops’
noxious fume makers
while the unorthodox musk ox
in bobby-socks
gently rocks
to the sounds walking out from
the talking box –
yea big yosef
expose government expos
that's all I know
so **** the cash flow
but I make cash flow like creflo
never chased a dolla
yo it makes me wanna holla
not talking Marvin Gaye
um tAlking bout the words I lay spray
techs but prefer aks miss ya next birthday
make ya best ya worse day
never thirsty
stay quenching like Gatorade
make serenades
in the street
ask big leech
we after the money and the power
leaving scars on ya face
eradicate the weak out the race
I set the pace beat the case
cuz they know they place
uh we mob like Italians Mafioso's
put holes in ones
like gulf course
with ya open torso so
ya know
the game is to be sold not told
and since I'm standing large
you know we don't fold holdem
like texas pushing lexuses beamers caddys to
Bentley coupes
quick to shoot through my 30 odd six poppin licks like kilos bricks
in the hood it's understood
that when we play the game
we go for flames
but miss the burn though
we go ever where riots show quick blows
make for blood out ya nose
fluid leakin mind sinking
I mo assist than pastors to deacons
**** Spanish broads
from Columbian to Puerto Rican
I'm seekin
out the best from east north south and the west I guess
I'm tying to take down the commission
no General admjssion just listen
closely to the sounds of shots glocks pops it don't stop
til the elite off the top


uh who ya know do it better
pack a berretta
still.rock Cosby Coogi Sweaters
get hos ***** wetter ***** slayer mack mayor
say ya rhymes with me
the best on the master of the ceremonies
like ghost P come close to thee
watch my gun burn thee
like sun burn ****** neva get a turn
after i touch the mic
i melt **** hotter than lava get
out of a volcano
kick rhymes since i was embryo
make ****** sing soprano
if they try to my money though
we flips keys then take trips to Belize
sneeze
on the track bless me says me
my pedigree is nasty as nas back in 93
ya see naw cuz i braille spotlight
n the limelight come in yo dreams at night
freddie cougar with tha 9 double m luger
make bodies flex like lex lugar
i drive a jaguar 20 inch rims across the bar ghetto superstar
n think before ya speak
think before ya blink?
my rhymes be confusin' as a riddle from the Sphinx
they can jinx
me all they want but all they get is a gun taunt amerikkaz most wanted
pop steels only if ya want it
representin' like ****** in the pen holdin' down on lock
i **** a glock for every year
that ya aint on the block
one luv to my army none can harm
if i got nations forming
every brother gotta ski mask
quick to blast from the past to present
never get tense or hesitant
we drop ******* puff on phillies
knock fools out til they look ****** n silly
i can go on & on til tha break of dawn
rappers get no delight when i grab the mic its like friday night lights
uh one punch one round
n you can tell i won before it begun
by listening to the crowds sound uh
Steven Bowman Aug 2018
Maybe thugs aren’t shooters,
They all need to decompress.
Calling themselves gangsters,
Never should they be blessed.

Thugs don’t get all their girls,
They pay them just big bucks.
Killing like they own all worlds,
Murdering with all their Glocks.

Blood gangs, where are the Crips?
Crip gangs, where is the Bloods?
They are fake owning their cribs,
Murdering just to own any goods.

Gangsters don’t own their swags,
It’s the Rap Game, it’s the G Code.
They rob and steal, filling all bags,
Man, these gangsters seem all old!
Dougie Simps Feb 2016
Hmm so here's a message.
a message that starts off as something I can't finish
where half of my mixed race can't prosper nor replenish
I died too with "I CAN'T BREATH" I begged too on my knees
to not be a privileged monkey who needs to put on a show for you all to be pleased.  I cough out these words and ya think it's a disease...
But the truth is you motherf#$8*rs are just afraid of me.
I don't blame ya. Enough knowledge to mentally enslave ya
free all my people and throw you all in cages
get how we feel? oh wait i got another half. The kind to walk peacefully and enjoy society as I laugh..
sit in Christ's bath but we was all created equal? tell that to my mixed born as they have to endures life's sequel. TELL EM
Fine I guess I will as I press rewind and tell them of a time where people were unequally designed and the designer might've been blind but sacrificed himself only to cover a lie. OH MY OH MY.
Let me clear my throat so I can preach. What happened to practice what you teach? This all went gone when the man fell upon wanting his dream. But he had a dream and I have a thought... walking around the spotlights because every step I take is distort, and if I accidentally walk into the spotlight they'll probably put me in chains. I'd scream "I'm one of you!" but they'll tell me my other half is to blame as I reminisce of the chains that makes me feel like a slave as I curse out Jesus name BUT he can't quite understand and blocks out my call and watches as we all walk and BANG BANG BANG shoot each other, another home with a divorce, another woman getting destroyed by a weak man who can't control his hand a had to much at the bar and views still distort another politician sitting getting rich as he grabs hold of the assistant and tells her to touch his, dictation in this nation as we cry for discrimination of ideas that are corrupt AND A WORLD DIVIDED BY RACIST for blacks, whites and all, ignorance has no color. The law is taking shots as the people all **** each other. Don't listen to me for I'm just a civilian, who sits down and hopes for better days of our children and change minds of the millions. We'll never see eye to eye. I just wanted an A for effort and Absolutely knew I had to try as I watch more people die and see more mothers cry, blocks, glocks and shots and people standing asking out "why?"
when did the love die? 400 years we rewind. Where things weren't clear and not much was fair but this is life and life does to us what we can't bare. I see nothing but hate, I see love trying to recreate a time when we were young and didn't care about race. Kids playing in the sand that showed love and open hands to join close together and didn't really give a ****. Time is slowly ticking, seconds now turning into minutes...Please, we need to end this war before life itself is finally diminished.
This isn't about race, it isn't about hate. It's about love, power and unity before it's all over...and too late.
So as you look at life's finish line - I beg you...don't finish the race.




Praise to the highest for I can't speak for  you. I follow your road you present to us in hope to find the purity that life truly gives. For my enemies I forgive and for my words are only the truth. Win or lose I will only spread love and peace to try and finish what it is you wanted us to be. A civilized group of people for each others eyes we see. While we may not all agree I believe in the art of compromise and hope to spread the word so may look into another eyes. For I am just one single man whose trying to balance my mistakes and carry your message all in a single hand. All while hoping not to fail. Amen.
I can feel this one getting a feedback that I expected. This is a piece from someone who is of mixed race and tells both sides of the story only to say what he truly wants...Peace and love. Enjoy and have an open mind. It's writing not war.
Butch Decatoria Nov 2016
The morning ***
Before head
back to work
This Jay Oh Bee
B is for Business / Bull Dooky

"It's just Bid ness"

No Justice
The menial  
Minimum wage / Slave to NEED
Gotta have purchase
Gotta buy to eat
Nothing comes for free

Except / accept

That moment
The whole world fears...
DEATH.
We sware to
Vanity
A Slave  - yes Sam, I am
I tell you this,
what I saw, we done-did seen...

White Grey hound buses
Parking in our Plaza
Spilling out the Orient,
          Snapping pictures with Samsungs
While I did smoke
An Ultralight One-Hundred
          I got the sense,
That they were surveying the area
Pointing forefingers painting
Tree
Miming
Expansion
GPS  e s p
Architects of
Pleased with themselves
The language of enigma
Listen
To their chatter
            chinking
Foreigners they used to be

Historical predictions now

What landscapes will look like
When remodeled
(...misguided projectiles....)

A bigger Little Korea Town

Over run...

It's the feeling
That must be panic
It's the feeling
Of being surrounded
By enemy foe
By animal control
Their tranqs. Nets & leashes,
Stunners at the ready...

Pzzt and sshhzzz....
Static mind games
Phones smarter than us,
Of course

We all FaceTime with touch screens
I'm no different,
Press Menu, the date and time
                       It's only 5 minutes 'til...
Light another ***
Before I get started ...

Here, my J.o.b. Is being...
The only employee "who a-speak a-only
English"
"Only a-one language"
Hehehe *** emoji!

Less than zilch.
Became
Like a spy spying secretly
Inside his own
Country / nation / tribe
Of the people, all
men are creating
Our own inequalities...

Done-did see, oh say so

We'll get - done got toked
Peace pipes, petrol
and the joke goes
"There's this bus, and them opportunists...
Blueprints, dispensaries,
The Imminent war..."

(Even the church has history
With puffs
            Of black and white
Rising
             Smoke / gag reflexes /
The Coughing it up)

Chang Cha-Ching!
Money.

Smoke brakes over
Gets back
To the factory
Line
Chain Gang am/way

Cracking whips on backs of us
Of those who still worship
The lamb...  Yes I am
To Uncle Sam :
In the way, another obstacle


In the way of progress
Prehistoric pedestrian painted in the landscape
Sooner pushing
Out of the way

For supermarket boulevard malls
Catering from cowering from defeat
Mean streaks
Bomb shells
Mad money and a piece
       "Glocks, 45colts, semi automatics
        *******' Guns
For the **** storm hustle...!"


Every conversation started
Shaft all up in your grill
Every question an appeal
Digging
For information is power
Axing who you be?

I works at the grocers
In the ****** area part of town
Across the ways from the dispensary
(**** Chung winks at chuck wagons)

Says I gets discounts
With my marijuana card,
Prescription coupon
******


A regular
Opportunist.

Yelp! Hollah!

we Gots what you really need
       It's only business
Don't take it personal
Minions of E.T

But Still... there is no justice....

We Prey on the Lambs
And tell ourselves to
Doubt slowly
             "Just you wait / they'll see...
Dawn will break"
Ever
Clear of smoke, no doubt

The open minds, eyes,
Done did and able to see...
The invasion
Gots
Intellectual property

Karma will be a *****
On dinosaur bones
In the crude that burns the sky
And the smoke
Breaking
Our bad /

bubble...

FIN.life.
Choke.
HeartHeldHigh Nov 2013
I don't lock glocks
An' I don't ride with a nine
I don't pack Heckler and Koch
But when I step over the line
I'm packin' more heat than a Navy Seal
I got both hands free
Because I gave up the wheel
I got my arms stretched out
So I can seal the deal
He had his life snuffed out
So He could finally heal

Us

The killers and the accomplice
When He said "it's finished"
His plan was accomplished

His face beat and anguished
The Devil thought he'd vanquished
The One by whom he was banished

But he must've been astonished
When the only Lamb unblemished
Made good on His promise
That was given to the Psalmist

Death had been demolished
Its power was abolished
Humanity refurbished

He suffered because He cherished
The impoverished and the ravished
Malnourished and the famished

So I pack heat, but it's a different kind entirely
Not a weapon, not of man that is
I cary knowledge, that His spirit lives inside of me
I cary peace, in the knowledge that I'm his
uh my clan be ***** as the Taliban
with illegal contraband
got more heat than desert stand
one man stand on the mic
i rock im as hard as a ****
in between a ***** legs
gettin' ready to knock
ya out with flows i expose
the industry closed
once yosef pours
out the blessin got me foes guessin no stressin
**** and henney sessions
new lessons
daily sip irish creme baily
they cant play me but pay me
listen to styles p or bump biggie
or maybe 2 p a c
host aks at birthdays
im al caponin' it runnin' ****
like diarrhea
yall just need ta
sit the **** back while i count benjamins stacks
which be
in bundle king of the hip hop jungle
and im
going to **** puffie diddy
He soft as a nestle cookie
Make mysteries
no rookies
cant play with me in this deadly game
lite a match for the flame
burn the fame
infamous is how i keep it man
hol up


I see the hate excite of the critics
Gimmicks leave with they headsplitted
And backs more open than parachute
From the guns that shoot 21 salute
Dont ya know im soldier
I keep glocks hot as folgers
In ya cup i interrupt the scene
Once i puff red hair greens
Ya drivin a limousine
N ill throw grenade in ya sunroof
And watch it land inbetween
Ya legs
So ya can blow ya own head
Get it naw forget
All i see is yellow tapes chalks
And you being admitted
To the hospital in critical
Condition no intermission
All ya memory left is ya see is my face
Im like the son of man
Leavin competition running
Marathons cuz im the biggest don
They call me the Holy one
Cuz of the way my guns
Put holes in one
The rawest spit flawless
Talk **** we'll leave ya jawless
Throw ya remains in the death valley
With the rest of the restless carcass
Facing eternal darkness what???
**** haters poetic justice
Part I
They say death comes in threes
I say pain is apart of reality
Looking at my homies
On the block guzzin' forties
And toting a glocks
On the look out for flaks and punk *** cop
****** ain't no stranger
Nothing but danger
Where I'm from deep in the slums
Ya find killers to drug dealers
Hoes and hoochie quick to give up the *******
They try to throw something to eat
But I don't bite I just watch and write
About the real.**** I see and feel
Keep my pistol concealed
So when my enemies lurkin' me
The last thing they gone see
Is a nice chromed nine shined
Blind Cuz I catch em off guard
Turned there vehicles into an open casket yea I'm drastic
I hate to see my own in plastic
But I gotta do what I gotta do
Its the life of a **** brotha
My heart has no fill so i feel no pain
Razor in my teeth herringbone as a neck chains
Made of gold times is growing old
Friends turn to foes
Looking for me but can't find me
Even though I'm right in front of me
Once im.in the dark I gather my best thoughts searchin for peace
In many ways
Hopin' for better dayz



Part II
And to all.my homies doing time
Hold ya head high to the sky
Cuz we know half of ya serving is a lie
Hard to support family
When ya sittin' in the penitentiary
society is a flim flam
Got ****!! how many brothers they gone lock up ?
The ***** *** system been corrupt no abrupt
After brothers the color of me
But if I **** another like me
I get praises silently from white society
And they won't care
If ya poor and on ya last dime
And do a crime
Not for the love of it
But to support his broken family
But media labels ya a culprit
Dangerous and the biggest threats
Are our cops letting the drugs drop
in the first place Miss the case
**** the judge They all gotta grudge
Against skin colored like me
I ain't a suckas I'm the black machavielli
In time I will rise no need to open my eyes
Cuz my third eye vigilant
Soon to be a retaliation for all the incarceration for scorning Black nation
Comin' with me violently we moving silently
With our clenched fist raised
Eradicatin' evil
Searchin' for better days 
Silence Screamz Mar 2017
Can we talk?

She said "Sure, give me a minute"

Wait a few seconds, that minute turned to ten,
Now one hour later,
She was ready to begin?

"What do you want to talk about?"
she yelled from
across the room.

Silence, I was sleeping.
But just then, she was about to hear the boom

So.......
She came at me like a wartime poet,
dropping bombs on my head like
I didn't even know it,
Ripped holes in my shirt
and I couldn't even sew it.
She busted rhymes in my mind
even CeLo couldn't own it.
Words flying so fast,
I coulda swore they were stolen.
She moved one step closer
and boom, I was falling.

Each time my mouth opened
I couldn't even answer,
Each word that I stut t t tered was
like lyrical cancer.
I ran around the room like
a Soul Train dancer.
Side stepping her questions
like I was her little **** prancer.
"*******, *****"
my words just got a little fancier.

Whoah!
"Who do you think you are,
are you done spitting it yet??"
You began this little battle,
but I'll be the one finishing it.
My words are louder than gunshots
Cuz, I'll be the one killing it.
I'll just turn my *** around
Cuz you'd be the
one kissing it.
This is only the beginning,
and I'm not finished dishing it

Shhhhit!!

She just broke in with a loud
"OH!! YOU DONE YOUR TIME"
So you can get on outta here with those wasted lyrics,
stupid rap, and busted rhymes.
This is my house, boy,
and you ain't living off this welfare dime.
Now, go cheat with some other hoes
and sip on their Boone's Farm strawberry wine.
Oh and one more thing, you might
want to call 9-1-1,

Cuz I am about to commit
****** on your *** and a misdemeanor crime.

See you were nothing to me
but my little, poor "boy toy"
and when I say "little" ..it wasn't
very much of joy joy.
The only time I got real excited and wet
was when you were walking out
my front door, door.
So, now carry your sorry ***
on over to your ex's house
cuz she was the real effin' *****, *****.

Oh, that 65" flat screen is mine, so is that X-Box,
touch one more ******* thing in here or I'll
double tap your ***
with the pair of my triple chromed 9mm hollow point custom made Hello Kitty Glocks.
Your time is up,
so say good bye once and for all
count it 1, 2, 3 or I'll punch your ******* clock.
GQ James Nov 2020
Them kids feel so scared for their lives that they gotta carry them glocks. That's the world we live in but let's change the world. It ain't gotta be a cold world it can be global safe world. Our children feel neglected but let's make them feel protected.
Living in fear ain't the way to live. Them glocks and weapons we carry won't protect us, it will only get us killed much quicker.

Hands up and keep your hands visible, so they don't have a reason to shoot but at the end of the day they'll still shoot. They shoot to **** not to put fear.
The violence of the world is getting outta hand. We can't even count on the police. They don't serve and protect. They shoot and **** our brothers and sisters.

It's crazy when we can't even trust in the justice system. The officials that are in the charge aren't for helping the people but are for helping themselves.
That power tripping these officials of the law be on is quite amusing. If you can't make the world better, why not step aside and let someone who wants to.
TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK...
When the raps are givin'
Lyrically by me
I'll leave ya  head spinnin'
Like a disco ball
Haters on the gall
But all I do is make one phone call
I got homies to hoes pack 44s
Check the iced chromed door
Of jeep four by four
Ya sweet as a nectarine
When I hit the scene
I turn ****** skin green
Brooklyn bounce more to the ounce
The drunker I get
The harder I hit
The more some ones bound for a casket
No remorse check the source
I was credited before I was edited
The Black Capone
I'm raps chaperone its my love jones
Me and my ***** my gun
Close like lelo and stitch
Got multiple attitude so I'm rude switch
Personalities
So nobody can keep a tally on me
Its me the big the biggest competitor
Leave ya competition in sweaters
Cuz I'm cold as anartica
Glocks stay blazin' hot than africa
Bomb flows like Boston massacre
Who asking ya?
About me the only yosef mos def
With the mathematics statics
I crash it if ya show y'***? I'll cash it
Put you on the corner
Reckless ruthless as Ike to Tina Turner
Embrace the dread **** the feds
Still taking my daily bread
Born sinner this is the philosophy of a winner
Ya unknown like Brian Skinner
Thinner ya need up ya weight son
Cuz ya falling lame son uh the don
Back to set the record straight
If ya gotta problem I'll.make ya death date
U see me I see u
Bullets hit ya temple now ya in ICU
Cuz I'm young witty and nasty and clean
Saw ya ******' head off if ya know what I mean??
Jai Rho Jan 2016
Hey, Hey, NRA
Who're you going
To **** today?

A little girl at school
Or a little boy at play
Maybe a *******
From India by mistake

Home defense
Is a good excuse
But it's more likely
to be home abuse

Suicides are up
And accidents too
But they're guaranteed
By Amendment Two

We all need protection
From all the terrorists
Because they can buy guns
Even if they're on our lists

And don't forget the Government
We'll need our peashooter Glocks
Against their heavy armament

Hey, Hey, NRA
Who're you going
To **** today?
them lines is terrible
check the flow article
turn to hip hops manual
to learn a better flow or a better go
running from my lingo
on instrumentals
cuz yee know im detrimental
now watch me bus a bust like my mans rhymes
get it naw too slow to chime
i blow minds like land mines
once my pen hits the ink
ya cant blink cuz yosef
got telepathic addictions
lynchin' mental cells penchin'
cuz ya cant hang with me in this flows existence
ya need persistence
to hang with the greatest
take out the latest
emcees leave em stinky as fresh cheese hang with ogs
who **** for free or blatantly cuz steppin' to me ya better be
huh ready to go war cuz im snatchin' revenues
breakin' crews through gats n bats so ya know its critical
for ya to escapes its a miracle
i gain fame off pleasurin' pain
against the grain completely drained
cuz i leave empty brains im vain
as dolly parton still fartin'
firin' ****** up like ol martin'
i be the darkest of the darkest mark this
day n age once ya turn the page all ya see is rage
as i rack rhymes like a twelve gauge
rackin' shells spittin rounds
til bodies go stiff n touch hell
confined with no yell silence the demons screamin' yo jalel ***** this aint no fairytale
yo check the pic of that black guy with the afro pick
Even he look at your rhymes like ****
i got more licks than a blow pop im talkin glocks cocked
got ya face and body shocked as i rock
you to sleep cant even walk in the streets alone
cuz ya know yosef make skulls n bones **** yellowbones
i shine brighter than yellowstones on ya girlies ear
step up to the arena only to fear .the magnificent rhymes ya here
as i clear take control over the game as i steer
into another directions
haters better get protection
cuz in gankin' spanking emcees without an *******
i spit hotter than lava from my saliva
ya get nothing but hard rhymes
made you run from twistas sucide makin a marathon
*****! ya got 25 miles to go .only one mile eliminated
but once ya get to 26 you'll be laminated n a casket or cremated
from my scorching lyrics hard to clear once ya get near it
no smokes n mirrors the realer the pain the more the blood drains permanent like a stain
with my illegal amigos
will open up ya temple leaving more dimples than cellulite
fools get ya flows tight learn how to write
and spit metaphors i go for the gore sore til ya aint breathin no more
i told ya yosef be the magnificent never hesitant
breakin ya off like 8ball and MJG
got ya head restin lovely above the clouds
somebody call the coronor foe me
for this guy jalel who thinks he can hang with me
i got him confined like penitentiary ya can never get ahead me diss me
make ya head fly into suicides like kamikaze
As i continue rise
I look bad in the medias eyes
No Saprise
This is something you can feel
Between ya thighs
If ya look at the skies
You'll  see anti matter transforming
Into human bodies with no warning
People still dont believe what they cant see
In another dimension or a diety
Dont listen to me
But if you see what i see
You'll see demons on the verge and pillage
Look this country only 239 years old
Already we had 11 major wars
As casualities sore
Scientist are trying to even the score
Cant play God cuz Satan always going to win
You dont have to believe
But when the pain comes youll recieve
The mark of the beast
Chips being coded on everything we come across
Even the dollar bill check the seal
Got the eagle peace & arrows
We still givin' honor to to a dead Pharaoh
The Egyptians understood the spiritual philosophy
Few thousand years later re quoted the documentary
Trying outshine something that we cant see
Brains cant function because of too much tv
Ask me
And ill tell you the truth
Ya dont need a PHD
Just learn how spirits functions
Understand the Most High hid himself
From amongst men
Kind cuz all we do is destroy **** and steal
Cant find joy
We never satisfied minorities disenfranchised
Still aint wise still be living the lie
Why they hurting us what are we going to do
If i began the revolution
Ill probably die at 33
Add it 3 plus 3 equals 6
Thats how it took God
To create this earth
N rested on the seven and one the seven
Ill be ascendin' with a torch
In hand
Flamin' all souls hotter than Afghanistan
Yea

Triple sixes triple darkness
Triple murderer
I got some things ya never heard of
The master of the seven seas
Look over ya shoulders
Death aint far behind
Follow ya own mind ignore the asinine
Fools getting gotted
Wither its natural death shock or shot
Fake thugs totin' glocks
Tryna slang rocks
But if you look at the picture
Who provided the rocks?
It started with Regan n Nixon
Drug wasnt a new invention
Tryna control air waves
Got fools givin' praise
To an unknown indentity
But steadily yelling they free
When the still in slavery
Haha i laugh but when the blood bath
Is sounded dont be alarmed
Hope ya have celtic cross as ya charm
Dont invest in that *******
The hypocrites are the man ones wicked
Sadistic
Stories being told over and over
And you still got the nerve to follow jehovah
Which was an evil god
Man made philosophies after our existence claim
Make up every single thang
Dont kniw truth from ficition
Fiction from truth
Got a chipped tooth
for talkin' too much truth
Im restless wreckless
With my mouth from the south
So i know how they play rules
Brainwash every religions
But wheres my 40 acres and mule
**** the system
I know they listening
Still makin' profits off dead nigguhs the hot topic
Need we hear the same thang
At the same they want peace
But all i see is war increase
Bankruptcy at a rise aint no sarprise
What happebd to Rome in 322
Hush let ya mind take sail
Thats when Rome fail
Tower of Babel being built over again
Enslavin' every mother father sons to daughter
As they push for new world order
Which is really old stand bold
Bring ya strongest ammunition
Cuz theyll be ready to slaughter
Come on...

guess whos back
with that mack attack
bringing real hip hop back
yea still pushin 808s
in the cadillac
old honeys feelin that
vibe once come across the mic
turn em from being a ****
like mike
got the game on lock
6 rings on my pinky
how did i fall out
when i been at the top
creme of the crop
knockin these fake emcees
out the box
rock chatteroxes
n what not?
i dont beef cuz i dont eat it
but the bullets i let feed it
to ya body mind and soul
as i take control
of the industry
every ol school emcee feelin' me
underground true to the sound
yea i been around get around
like pac pack two twins glocks
black. chrome
quick to put any in a funeral home
ya can find me home alone
writing dope ****
got a mansion of counterfeit
bills is print
call it black mint hell sent
govs got me bent
**** the president
there better off with dead resident
still cant get no love
still rockin fresh red cortez
with the honeycomb jersey
ill leave ya beggin like percy for mercy
naw yall gets none
still reiging as the victorious
still game is wack
still rep  pro black
been here and back
yo i never slacked still




still bump dj *****
still wreckin crews
check the news
aint no clues
still my folks gettin robbed
cant get a decent job
still cops harrasssin us
still blastin at us
cant put no trust
in the system justice failed
the evil still prevails
all the religious folks yell
jesus is back
**** it same ol fairytale
never trusted blonde hair n blue eyes
demons in guise
still im on a sneak
put ya to sleep
as ya roll up **** creek
still sittin back n think
wish i could change the world
to better all the young boys n girls
still  got OGs who rock jheri curls
but dont get it twisted
theyll split ya wig can ya dig it
friends of distinction
yall still in detention
need i mention
still they lynching
got every black n hispanic
on the bench and
twenty five to life
still cant get cut with a knife
america pie been done gone
purchased illegally all wrong
they say im wronghow fool?
when society drools?
off desperation starvation
i bring heat to the whole nation
heated like friction
facts no gotdamn fiction
still cant get no love
still lookin' at those above
me r i p to the real homies
and homettes
still you cant see me as i be
in the front
lawn sippin moet
shakin my head
still american pushin slavery
but they tell me to forget
still...


still i got love for the beats
still hang in the streets
spread luv with my peeps
repeat
weekend bar be que
listen to ******* up blues
how can ya not be confused?
woth music these days
the radio plays
nothing but bull to fool
thea masses
i shatter there hearts like broken glasses
class is
in session learned a lesson
in this game ya gotta make a name
instead most go for the fame
lose there souls in the flame
still i got no shame
to put any on blast
still puttin up our past
still we get harrassed
still ****** saggin they pants showin ***
still cant get a pass
in the politics
everybody ridin satans ****
pregnant n ****
no abortions spiritually gone
with snortin they shortin
ya benefits everyday
still tryna make a way
still ignore what they say
still ill stand by what i say
even if it cost me my life today
still.....
kitten Mar 2014
tears rolled down her pale porcelain cheeks, her lower lip trembled as she stared at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. her heart felt like it was about to puncture a hole through her ribs, damaging her thin frame which was already bruised and battered. the bruises were her decoration, not something she hid, not something that came from abuse, but rather from love.

a scream shattered across the room, breaking the peaceful silence, unnoticeable to the city around her, but a sharp cut through the apartment’s normally tranquil state.

she sobbed and pulled at the skin around her hands, clawing at it with her painted peach-coloured nails, trying to convince herself that this is not the reality she was in, not the reality that deserved her.

the bed shifted and she stood up, cradling herself quietly as she walked over to the dresser.
a circular vintage-looking powder case was lifted from the drawer, shining a golden hue, seeming like a prized treasure to the young woman.

white lines are formed along the black mahogany dresser, creating a perfect contrast between light and dark.
this was what she wanted. what she needed. this is what made her smile.

when he wasn’t there,
she’d click her tongue,
seek warmth in her sheets,
wander around their home,
play with his favourite camera,
cry at the thought of him being angry,

panicking, breathing heavy, heart-racing and full of angst.

no, snow didn’t make her happy.
her sunshine did.

-

she woke up the next morning, her vision slightly blurring from burying herself face-first into the sea of cushions and blankets spread all over their bed.

“angel, you really need to stop turning to snow whenever you get lonely.”

something echoed from the bathroom next door. it’s a strong and masculine voice, reassuring her thoughts and snapping her back to reality. she smiled and grabbed a blanket, throwing it over her nimble frame as she walked towards the brightly-lit doorway.

“i’m sorry, miku.”

miku, the name she so adored. it rolled on her tongue like a sweet piece of jelly, soothing and rewarding. he loved her back just as much; whether it was her joyful smile whenever she accomplished something, her laughter when she failed, the determined glint in her eyes and most of all her sweet, almost-chaste kisses she gave him every single day.

“maria, i need your help.”

“with what?”

her voice curious, yet laced with slight worry.
their eyes met, his gaze softened. he turned and placed a hand on her cheek, stroking it thoughtfully.

“with a small job. something that would be fun to do together. i even got you a special present.” he gestured toward a small black case placed on the kitchen table. maria noticed that he had placed freshly bought roses in a vase on the table beside it as well.

the case revealed two bright-pink, shiny new Glocks, polished to perfection. maria let out an excited squeal before hugging mikula.

“come on now sweetie, we have to go.”

-

by the time they got back, it was already midnight. mikula wanted to sleep, tired from the night of blood and debauchery. maria on the other hand, was psyched up from the violence and excitement. she loved spending time with mikula as well as witnessing the art of his work.

the sight of the man squirming below mikula, trying to push the boot off which was crushing his chest, really excited maria. the way mikula scoffed at the man’s pleads for mercy, the way he scowled at the bargain for a higher lump sum of money in exchange for his target’s life. the way his pale grey eyes flashed with anger at the man for referring to her as a “sleezy ****** *****”.

“do i look like the kind of man that would be with a sleezy *****?”

the man didn’t answer, he could not muster the strength, let alone the courage to utter a single word.

“my sweet maria is not sleezy and she is definitely not a *****.” he pauses briefly, cocking the gun and pointing towards the man.

the man’s eyes widened in fear as mikula reached into his pocket and pulled out a pink switchblade, flicking it open and handing it to maria.

“i forgot to give you this little present, on top of those custom guns i ordered in.”

mikula watched her grin from ear to ear, studying the sharp object in her hand. it glistened in the dim light, making her heart thump with excitement. she heard music in her head as she kneeled down, the twisted smile growing wider and wider.

♫ babe you can see that I'm danger
glamorous but I'm deranged, yeah
teetering off of the stage, yeah
i said it really nicely so can you be my savior? ♫ *

a manical scream escaped her throat.
when she looked up and saw mikula smiling at her, it felt like the blood that had tainted her clothes was invisible ink.
her tongue glided across the surface of her lips, before spitting the mix of saliva and crimson onto the floor beside her.

♫ is it wro-wrong that I think it's kinda fun
when I hit you in the back of the head with a gun?
my daddy's in the trunk of his brand new truck
i really want him back, but I'm kinda outta luck. ♫

— The End —