"incompatible" poems
BLESSED be this place,
More blessed still this tower;
A ****** arrogant power
Rose out of the race
Uttering, mastering it,
Rose like these walls from these
Storm-beaten cottages --
In mockery I have set
A powerful emblem up,
And sing it rhyme upon rhyme
In mockery of a time
HaIf dead at the top.
Alexandria's was a beacon tower, and Babylon's
An image of the moving heavens, a log-book of the
sun's journey and the moon's;
And Shelley had his towers, thought's crowned powers
he called them once.
I declare this tower is my symbol; I declare
This winding, gyring, spiring treadmill of a stair is my
ancestral stair;
That Goldsmith and the Dean, Berkeley and Burke
have travelled there.
Swift beating on his breast in sibylline frenzy blind
Because the heart in his blood-sodden breast had
dragged him down into mankind,
Goldsmith deliberately sipping at the honey-pot of his
mind,
And haughtier-headed Burke that proved the State a
tree,
That this unconquerable labyrinth of the birds, cen-
tury after century,
Cast but dead leaves to mathematical equality;
And God-appointed Berkeley that proved all things a
dream,
That this pragmatical, preposterous pig of a world, its
farrow that so solid seem,
Must vanish on the instant if the mind but change its
theme;
Saeva Indignatio and the labourer's hire,
The strength that gives our blood and state magnani-
mity of its own desire;
Everything that is not God consumed with intellectual
fire.
III
The purity of the unclouded moon
Has flung its atrowy shaft upon the floor.
Seven centuries have passed and it is pure,
The blood of innocence has left no stain.
There, on blood-saturated ground, have stood
Soldier, assassin, executioner.
Whether for daily pittance or in blind fear
Or out of abstract hatred, and shed blood,
But could not cast a single jet thereon.
Odour of blood on the ancestral stair!
And we that have shed none must gather there
And clamour in drunken frenzy for the moon.
IV
Upon the dusty, glittering windows cling,
And seem to cling upon the moonlit skies,
Tortoiseshell butterflies, peacock butterflies,
A couple of night-moths are on the wing.
Is every modern nation like the tower,
Half dead at the top? No matter what I said,
For wisdom is the property of the dead,
A something incompatible with life; and power,
Like everything that has the stain of blood,
A property of the living; but no stain
Can come upon the visage of the moon
When it has looked in glory from a cloud.
36.9k
Unbiased at least he was when he arrived on his mission,
Having never set eyes on the land he was called to partition
Between two peoples fanatically at odds,
With their different diets and incompatible gods.
"Time," they had briefed him in London, "is short. It's too late
For mutual reconciliation or rational debate:
The only solution now lies in separation.
The Viceroy thinks, as you will see from his letter,
That the less you are seen in his company the better,
So we've arranged to provide you with other accommodation.
We can give you four judges, two Moslem and two Hindu,
To consult with, but the final decision must rest with you."
Shut up in a lonely mansion, with police night and day
Patrolling the gardens to keep the assassins away,
He got down to work, to the task of settling the fate
Of millions. The maps at his disposal were out of date
And the Census Returns almost certainly incorrect,
But there was no time to check them, no time to inspect
Contested areas. The weather was frightfully hot,
And a bout of dysentery kept him constantly on the trot,
But in seven weeks it was done, the frontiers decided,
A continent for better or worse divided.
The next day he sailed for England, where he could quickly forget
The case, as a good lawyer must. Return he would not,
Afraid, as he told his Club, that he might get shot.
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Relating the incompatible
Reconciling irreconcilable
Forgetting the indelible
Walking the liquid ground.
Turning the dark on at noon
Being an octopus in the body of a racoon
Melting the stone, stoning the melted
No utterance commented.
How does it feel to be unreal?
You may not like me when I disagree
But teach me how to like me
While I'm
Relating the incompatible
Reconciling irreconcilable
Forgetting the indelible
Walking the liquid ground.
Turning the dark on at noon
Being an octopus in the body of a racoon
Melting the stone, stoning the melted
I'll romance the unloveable
Place my shoulder under the unbearable
The pose we take in an argument
Sustainable measurement.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
I'm head starting the challenging life
12th grade decides my future strife.
Herein lies the mystery of tomorrow
Destiny of the mighty ship in my carefull row.
Not asking for incredible flourishing results
But delivering support for my stupendous work.
Not asking for imaginative unreachable marks
But holding my hands to provide the best of myself.
Not asking to pour elixir for hardwork devoid outcome
But strolling me through the gates of earnestness.
Not asking for your substitution in me
But to confront me with your intrepid grace.
Not asking for grade ten replica
But lending me the same earnest virtue.
Help me ignore the incompatible watchers,
To provide the least hope of comparing
Falling in despair in other's successful fruits.
But to help better and improvise my solitary results
And shelter me in your house of modesty.
No beneficial ranks but the submissive marks
that lends a hair to my cognitive efforts
To grant me light in the death of night.
Let me blossom as tranquily as the sunflower
Yet not vanish in the glory of jubliation
But gradually offer me petals
And extend the reliance day by day.
Mindful and heeding my compatible hardwork
Finally, let me conquer the glamorous colour
Of my utmost individuality.
Rehabilating the small hopes intro pristine reality
Aware of the hunger turning to lime light
To strike a chord for my year before.
Take me on your hands, float me through
legitimate mistakes, rip me apart in the wave
of unquenchable thirst and finally wrap me out as
a champion badge of jaded grade twelve.
Finally,
Bless me God, provide eternal marvels
Bless me God, honour the righteous path
As the testimony of your judicious grace
Bless me God, I'm starting life (grade twelve)
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
In this trigonometric love equation
You're my arcsin,
You're my special angle,
Secretly placed
In that unit circle of feelings.
You may arrange my major arcs and diameters
Inside of it
Perfectly triangular,
Love will always have
The same ratio pi.
Our equation of love
Is seemingly incompatible.
It has philosophical numbers becoming
Common geometric shapes
Of love itself
Like hidden spheres
In triangles,
But in real terms of graphing
Our parallel lines of life
Went on forever not crossing at any point
Of this imperfect world.
Our love is, in fact,
A complex system of equations
With the same set of three unknowns
Searching their own values
It has a narrative statement.
You're my C.
You're mister C,
From c'telzing
From caleptikide
And from cataguerrillaism,
In this beautiful madness of love.
You know, our love is getting old
In concentric circles,
Those circles of time.
Extrapolate it to infinity, sweetheart,
You may be my semi-infinity
Until the end of the time,
That semi-infinity,
In which I lose myself
From time to time
Each time coming
From the same unique star
As that already existent
In an old Romanian novel,
Which is called
Lorelei.
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 1:47 PM UTC
Morsi stands among
his people as an expression
of Egypt's democratic will
democratically elected
his feet are rooted in the
constitutional right to rule
Morsi has one foot on a
pillar of secular democracy
promising to uphold Egypt's
journey to an egalitarian future
this pillar advances the
republican ideal that
safeguards diversity
and a people's liberty
to express free will
this pillar brought him
to office and justifies his
right to rule
ironically it’s also a pillar
that Morsi's guiding philosphy
find impossible to suffer
Morsi's other foot is firmly
planted on a pillar of
Sharia sympathies
upholding the divine
foundation of his rule
over this earthly principality
Muslim Brotherhood’s
cardinal principles
undermine the pillar
of secular precepts
that equally enfranchise
all citizens
Sharia Laws allows no standing
to equal rights of women,
religious minorities,
LGBT civil liberties and
advocates suppression
of atheistic and
progressive political groups
this has riled the
democratic sympathies
of the Egyptian people
Morsi's actions
threaten to tip the pillar of
secular democracy back
into the Nile’s murky waters
Morsi's stance
is precarious and as his
feet slip he realizes
he is not the
Colossus of Rhodes
he believed himself to be
discovering it impossible
to bestride the pillars
supporting incompatible
structures
the generals have declared
a road map for stability that
rescinds the constitution,
dissolves the parliament
and places the military
as sole protectorate
of the nation
is the preservation of
a democratic republic more
important than the return
to the rule of a military junta?
is it more wise to place
principles before personalities?
Morsi’s next steps are
uncertain
The pathway of the
people’s democratic
journey remains unclear
the sound of the military’s
marching boots grow louder
Music Selection:
Sweet Honey on the Rock
Marching Off to Freedom Land
Oakland
070313
jbm
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
My heart, it's hands
Reaching for his soul
My wrists snap, retreat back
I guess now we'll never know
Hung up, strung out
Just searching for a sign
Horror, misanthrope
Astrological pantomime
Visions clear, so near
Like vines we intertwined
Incompatible, at the core
Who was feeding me those lines?
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
I wish I never met you. Not out of hate but out of love.
I wish you never showed me how it was to be happy.
Because now that you're not here... Alone to myself and my emptiness,
an absence so deep it crushes me breathless.
A love unfinished unappreciated undiscovered utterly uprooted.
Without you I'm unloved.
Without.
Just me.
Emptiness curbed by the hope you're still waiting for me.
Waiting upstairs - waiting,
calling for me to come to bed.
I long for that again.
The need for a connection ... to you, to myself.
A purpose to exist and care.
When its just me in a room within, there is too much space.
Just empty closets of your memories.
Loaded gun of emotion with no target.
Bound and compressed to dust.
A diamond will arise from the ashes but not for you.
Never again will I let you inside my expanse.
Just to hurt me and watch me bleed.
When you were in pain, my shoulder is where you lay.
When you were happy, my eyes were your gaze.
When you were in love, my chest your head fell.
When you were lost, my heart you stayed.
Now all that remains.
When you pushed me away, beside you I stayed.
Forever I could have been there, stepping through the mud.
No hope, no love, no mud, no longer.
Pain is double edged like your two faces.
With one comes the other.
One I never thought existed.
One I never thought I'd see.
One I can't let go of and dispel.
One - a memory that deforms my existence.
Understanding chaos is a never ending deployment.
Lonely and expressionless with
No muse for my fingers.
No figure of beauty to adore endlessly.
Trapped now within my prison of passion.
A vessel to pour my unbound passion.
An unlikely companion stifled immature and premature.
Incapable, incompatible - irresistible.
An unlikely companion clearly conceptual.
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC
Our summer fellowships are over! We learned a lot - for instance - how summer’s a lot less fun when you’re hemmed-up, inside working. I mean, we preesh’d the clinical experience, the learning, and especially how good these fellowships will look on our med-school applications - seriously - but there were a hundred rules - aren’t rules incompatible with summer?
Hmm, Ok, let’s see, something poetic..
As the summer sun's blistering radiance waned, shadows,
muscled by sunrays to the marginal edges and corners,
gradually spread, like water - soothing, lenifying and assuaging
simmered nerves with their refreshing, canopied touch.
If sunlight scorched with heat, twilight soothed and gentled,
while varnishing, the dimming world with rainbow, event-horizons,
larger, more inventive, colorful and glorious than any mere mortal art.
Night gradually squeezed, unseen, through those vivid sunset cracks,
and refreshing night-air, drawn in by the last, escaping updrafts of heat,
rustled cooling relief to weary workers seeking the solace of evening and home.
back to unpoetic realities..
When work was finished, we’d retreat from the heat, racing up to the rooftop pool, like two happy porpoises out of school.
Whoever invented poolside food delivery, should win the Nobel Prize for ‘thank you very much.’ We wouldn’t go back to our rooms until it was dark and we’d started to prune.
Now, we’ve a month to relax before our Junior year begins. We got letters from Yale that said, “As upperclassmen..” “Upperclassmen!” We shouted as we danced in hand-holding circles, singing, “Upperclassmen, upperclassmen, upperclassmen, upperclassmen. upperclassmen.”
We’ve grown so much at Yale.
Aug 2, 2023
Aug 2, 2023 at 12:05 PM UTC
Maecenas' stable of prostitutes
is in the embrace
of him that sat & paid much more
for the excessive
guarantee of water being transferred
to the water that flows away the remnant
of the house towards them of the waters
of the ladies openly w/in the covenant
concluded w/ a chorus of prostitutes,
it is not binding, but Einstein's Maecenas
of it in the abstract, ardent devotion
of the early in the morning brings
the temple of the plastic abstract stand in
w/ the steering of Einstein's chorus
of the nature of the conversion
of the ****** incompatible w/ nothing at all
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 11:33 PM UTC
Breathe and breathe and breathe for me
I’ll breathe and breathe and breathe for you
This world
This life
The love and happiness
All in your eyes
Breathe and breathe and breathe for the best of things
Breathe and breathe just breathe for me
Read and read and read its right
Think and think keeps me up all night
The words that push and push with every sight
I’m going blind from the thought… alright.
So breathe and breathe and breathe for me
We know I sure as hell cant do it decently
I’ll breathe and breathe and breathe for you
I can’t get enough of this green
Sight all filled with blue
Open my eyes- open to you…
Just another night, no sleep in slight
Bad rhyming ****** me off
But this music is soothing
And I get so inspired thinking of life
Breathing is so hard
Holding me back
To many people around
Only two can share solitude happily
In the best of company
How the cool air rest upon my skin
Delicate and white never known what sun is
Soothing, breath is still missing
From my lungs only retrievable from love…
But that is far, now close enough for now
All there is, is hope
But hope is held in God, if you believe in him
What a lie of course you do
I see it you just need to speak it.
Maybe think about the breathing for once.
Easy to forget when its not a loved one.
Yes I did that and yes I did this.
But I did it cause I obsess just a little bit.
I don’t care just move out of the way,
Please pilot,
I’m done with the west, fly east for me.
I wanna see the stars that you can never see in New York City
I wanna be in the limits of the devils play ground
With you holding one hand
Jesus gripping the next
Who cares if I sound crazy?
Every great artist had their thing
I can admit I’m rambling
With incompatible ridiculousness
But it’s true to say,
I can’t breathe today
When I can never breathe
Can’t breathe until this life grants me with a touch
And the **** tree’s will always be
**** Iowa.
It’s only in between.
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 6:50 AM UTC
Daisies in a garden full of weeds
Have you ever seen such an ugly thing?
Daisies may look like flowers
But look how they steal our sunlight
Look how they steal our soil
They are not flowers
They are infiltrators
This is a garden full of weeds
This land belongs to us
Now look at those selfish Daisies
Showing off their ugliness beneath our sunlight
Wasting the nutrients in our soil
Look at how they taint our community
Look at how they defile our home
We are incompatible
Their crimes are intolerable
Are you with us or against us?
Hesitation is treason
This is a garden infested with Daisies
Take them all away
And set them ablaze
They can never steal our sun again
Classify
Symbolize
Dehumanize
Organize
Polarize
And
Prepare
One to six
It can be fixed
Seven to eight
It is too late
Exterminate
And
Deny
Deny
Deny
You could have stopped it if you tried
It was all advertised
For just a limited time
Before it was taken off the shelves
A limited-edition opportunity
To step in and intervene
But the event has already passed
Daisy? What the hell is that?
It was all advertised
For just a limited time
You could have intervened
A limited-edition opportunity
That never happened
It never happened
But it will happen again
And you'll see a product you recognize
In limited-edition
But no, you won't buy
Not until it's taken off the shelves
Then you'll finally miss what's gone
If you have the luxury of a memory
But even then
Will you be believed?
One to six
It can be fixed
Seven to eight
It is too late
Now all you can say
Is
Never Again
Until Next Time
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 7:59 PM UTC
like how the Sun hides from the Moon
so that he doesn’t burn her radiance
always leaving too soon --
the ever-tantalizing romance
like how the Sky kisses the Sea
only through heavy rain
separated by Time, never free
forever driving them insane
like how Life and Death
chase each other for eternities
away you take my breath
despite incompatible personalities
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 7:37 AM UTC
Success is a mere construct that is subjectively incompatible with professed spirituality.
Butter may spread with ease on a slice of bread, and it may not.
There is something appealing about the grains of sand which lodge in obscure places.
The texture of nature is truly fraught with the bliss and tragedy of North African mysticism.
Geology may be ancient, but so are the sensual indulgences of Cleopatra.
The construction of wonders remains to be perplexing; and I haven’t cleansed myself in milk.
Cairo is the epitome of occult curiosity where Anubis reigns in contemporary economics.
The All Seeing Eye promises safety at the cost of homage.
Identify yourself. If freedom doesn’t exist,
then why does the abode of the dead eagerly impose determinations?
Fly the flag. God bless America.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC
He stands tall and sanguine like a beautiful sunflower;
always facing the sun and absorbing its positivity and strength hour by hour;
never allowing the darkness to swallow him whole or cause him discomfort or pain -
he just brushes it off and grows more compelling and powerful through the storms and the rain.
And here I am, the opposite; a wallflower
who hasn't got the strength to go on (nor the willpower) -
I am a wilting, moribund soul with dwindled leaves and descending dead seeds;
suffocated by the never ending nightmare - I join the worthless weeds.
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 5:55 AM UTC
Louis Brown · 21 hours ago
Copyright Louis Brown and Warner Baxter
I only like the young ones
The beautiful and tall
If they've got it all together
It's for sure I'm gonna fall
Every spring and summer
I go through that same phase
But winter chills this heart of mine
And we go our different ways
I get bored way too easily
No woman likes me long
We're incompatible in love
But it's sad to be alone
It's just the natural way of things
As love goes against the grain
I can't change my ways for her
As the pleasure turns to pain
AND TONIGHT ONCE MORE I'M OUT OF LOVE AGAIN
BACK OUT IN THE COLD COLD NIGHT WITH THAT OH SO ICY WIND
SUMMER DAYS ARE MEMORIES AND WINTER JUST STORMED IN
AND TONIGHT ONCE MORE I'M OUT OF LOVE AGAIN
I only like the young ones
The beautiful and tall
The brunette or the redhead
Or the bleach blond Barbie doll
Where there's smoke there's fire
It burns up in a blaze
But love can't last forever
'Cause we have such different ways
I get bored way too easy
no woman loves me long
It's my incompatibility
Though it's sad to be alone
so as I travel down this road
And I sing my sad love song
I'll keep rollin' town to town
Till this highway leads me home
CHORUS
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
The skin of consumerism parades her promiscuity in desolate and sheath-like urban stratospheres.
Gaze upon the beauty of a hanging basket and understand that the flutes and trumpets are an orchestral force of nature.
But permit me to cut to the metaphorical chase, oh pilgrim, amidst this treacherous journey of socio-political asylum -
Propaganda is a scaly, oratory genius who wholeheartedly adopts her role in a manner which is not incompatible with the very last day in October.
And the spirit of the blues unashamedly casts her vulnerability to the masses with utmost integrity.
Therefore, I have to ask: do you balance on the brink of hilarity or calamity?
Turn up the heat, oh seductress of the ages, and watch those colors change.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
In a world of reality and concrete,
We exist in opposition.
While you reside in the physical and tangible,
I resonate in the mystical.
Our realms do not meet.
If I could alter my position in the stars,
For you I would.
I'd skew the right angle at which we sit
So we could finally see eye-to-eye.
I would be the flames for your airy aura to feed.
If I could-
I would..
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 9:07 AM UTC
What's the matter with me lately?
I've a feeling I'm no good no more
Should I have a system check
Possibly get the upgrade three point four?
Problem is my hardware is outdated
Not sure what support I can expect
The new software won't install
We're incompatible I suspect.
Time comes and you begin to think
This has truly lost its fun
Now I must watch you from the corner here
How you carry on with a new honey bun.
Aug 29, 2021
Aug 29, 2021 at 6:48 AM UTC
That nameless spark
The one that starts in your diaphragm
you think it’s your breath,
but it gets stuck
Chest—hot
Breath—ragged
Heart—taiko beat
But you turned away...
“Didn’t want to start something”
You said
“Smart for you, sad for me”
I said
...Incompatible, I rationalized
What to do now?
Did we dodge a bullet?
Would your woundedness have moved
Through me and left a mark?
Your hesitation has.
“Everyone is complicated”
You told me after you kissed my neck
Do I stay soft?
Stay open?
I didn’t know when you said “everyone”
you meant yourself
Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 11:59 PM UTC
******* ***** I'm dreaming,
of you and another man reaming,
well you are a succubus and a demon,
And I'll tell you right now, its my emotions that you are feeding,
on and on I go tears streaming,
waking up cold sweat beating,
the brows of my forehead and my teeth bleating,
Clashing, gnashing, outside is scary but within it is bleeding,
knife wounds to the gut, butterflies screaming,
I can't even sleep now, covered in my own *****
Hating you, blaming you, dreading the upcoming meeting,
Can't escape it, can't fight it, it is your body I'm needing,
Your soul that still makes me feel like givin',
Up and dyin' here in this bed of my own decievin',
Girl, I'll tell you its our fault I'm leavin,
Dead and unheeded,
Depressed and beaten,
down by the secrets of me you were keeping,
But now it is over and still on my sub-conscious you are eating,
So every time I wake up, half-dead and decreasing,
I still find you, And I find myself singin',
But you deserve no more songs no more revelin,
Not from me, no, you'll find happiness everlastin',
And I know this I can see it, I am dreaming,
And his **** is bigger and its aching,
The torture, the **** the forlorn breeding,
Modern society or mental instability,
I dont know babe, Im ******* crazy,
Lazy but forcefully preceding,
When I tell you I'm flawed and dominating,
You laugh at me, hardly even breathing,
and I cant help but still be believin'
My love, my idolization, it is sickening,
and as the subject, my former accomplice, partner in crime, your sins to are quickening,
You made one mistake and that was never falling,
Ever out of yourself and now your life you'll be living,
Yet that mistake was not yours, nor any others my darlin',
I was simply not the man, a scared abused child buyin',
More hopes and lies to fight the pain of hatin',
Yourself every day wakin',
Up thinkin', without her I'm wasting,
Too much fear, too much pressure, babe you cant even be feelin',
You just gotta sit there and get ******* no performance, no mind rushing,
a thousand miles and still good for nothing,
Failure again, forevermore, the one person you can live without now ignorin',
You, 'Sexually incompatible', and all the gravy,
Still I kept coming of the dream, of the real one, of you and me feeling,
A love greater than love, obsession and needing,
Just one more look, one more hug, one more day of existing,
But now, buttercup, its just me up alone at night, fighting
The memories of you, and, for what its worth,
I'm losing.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 4:05 AM UTC
I gave your voice to the sun
I tried to catch the stars in my hands
But they fell through and cut me
Sliced my fingers into two
There is nothing in the sky but your silence
Looks like the sun burned the sound of music away
And the stars sparkle on the floor from when they landed here
As for me I am nowhere
Nowhere
I tried to give your voice to the sun
But the sound of music burned away
And the stars, they fell one by one
Cut my hands away
Tried to give you to the sun
Our moon is incompatible
November's cold and grey
You have ***** fingernails
Whereas I try to wash the dirt away
And what I once thought was music
Was just the sound of a thousand shattering stars
And what I once thought was beautiful
Was merely a thousand glittering scar's
You are a silly little man-child
And I am just a little girl
But as for me, I am tired
Of the blunt beauty of this world
I am on Pluto dear
You are on Mars
We sold each other out honey
We destroyed the stars
Dec 4, 2011
Dec 4, 2011 at 2:16 PM UTC
The aim of science
Is to make difficult things
Understandable in a simpler way
The aim of poetry
Is to state simple things
In an incomprehensible way
The two are incompatible
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 7:26 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Stuck in the middle of whats right and wrong,
I was dieing in the fear of needing love,
The love so strong,
ItS kind hard not to be a ****
With all these ******* around ya,
Talk is cheap, running their mouths be too quick,
And lame writers making disses that look like bad raps and essay papers,
It will only offend us , it you make us,
The mafia is whack as ****
And melz recruited ********
You really think I'm giving up,
Like ******* on striPper poles,
You all are an embarrassment, to poets everywhere,
I should delete my HP for how you poorly known,
I can take the feeling out your flows and make it an extraordinare,
I don't need it anyway I got website of my own,
With an audience on facebook,
That expect more from me soon,
Trying to check my page every now and aagain,
To see if I'm dissing you,
Are you that scared,
So unprepared,
Fakely incompatible,
With all affairs,
I swear I would drop names,
but y'all Dead to me,
Your not there,
Where did you go,
Where are you words,
Please use your tongue,
No further questions can't be sunt,
Gave you life,
You wanna breathe,
Stoping you from not doing so.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC