"kane" poems
Fanatics fixed their eyes upon
The screen to cheer their team
The mood there in the air was tense
Tricolor seemed out of steam
The clock was counting down
The time was drawing nigh
Doomed to lose and head on home
Bid Russia their goodbye
An errant shot deflected out
Gave them one last chance
To score a goal and prance about
Show off their famous dance
From the corner, the ball soared in
A hero rose above
Mina smacked it with his head
And won his country's love
England shocked to see the win
Snatched right from their grasp
Colombia delirious
Successful at last gasp
And thus the game was sent along
Into the overtime
Two periods were played to nil
Two teams full in their prime
Penalties would now decide
Which team would advance
The locals glued to their tvs
The nation in a trance
Falcao scores! Kane as well!
Cuadrado, Rashford too!
Muriel then strikes one home
Tricolor up three to two!
Ospina blocks the next one
Hypes up the frenzied crowd
But Uribe hits the crossbar
And the silence echoes loud
Trippier knots it up again
We're down to final shots
Bacca fails to get his through
Past Pickford's valiant swat
Fate rests upon this final kick
Well placed with perfect spin
Just past Ospina's outstreched hands
Dier seals the win
The cafeteros reel from shock
No sign of jubilation
But still the crowd, crushed in defeat
Show their appreciation
Colombia eliminated
We give them all a hand
And though their World Cup here is done
I'm now their biggest fan
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 2:58 AM UTC
Please don’t pity my situation
I’m frozen in situ
Don’t smile and **** your head
Don’t say awww or that’s a shame
Don’t pat my hand and assume it will happen
Don’t tell me I’m missing out
Don’t tell me I’ll never understand until it happens to me
Don’t assume your life is more fulfilled then mine
Don’t pretend it makes you more mature then me
Don’t make me a faux Aunty to another friends fruit
Don’t joke about lending or sitting like it’s the same
Don’t imagine Yours could ever be a substitute for mine
That they could replace the ache in my heart or fill it with what it’s missing - even worse be greatful for the privilege
Don’t act like it’s a grand gester like your giving my life meaning
When things are awful and bad don’t tell me you stay for them and use them as an excuse to not walk away
Don’t tell me if I had I’d under stand
Don’t make me feel incomplete because I haven’t - I’m already feeling it
Don’t call me lucky because I sleep in
Don’t say “nice for some” when I go out it isn’t my choice
Don’t assume this is about freedom
Don’t pretend it will happen one day
Don’t put your false hopes onto me
Don’t assume he will leave me if I don’t deliver - we’re much more then potentials Ps
Don’t assume it’s because of the weight
Don’t give me a gimmick or tips
Don’t tell me your storys
Don’t talk about it or predict about it
Dont tell me about feelings in your waters
Don’t treat me like this is my only purpose
Dont think I get hurt because you grow and blossom in a way I can’t
Don’t assume I’m bitter and resentful
Don’t pretend I can’t be happy for you
Dont treat me like I’m broken like my whole exsistence revolves around a broken womb
.......I’m so much more
.......I’ve seen so much more, felt so much more, grown and lost
.......I live so much more and want so much more
.......I have more plans and options then you can imagine
My back up plan is full of love and life still!!
(C) Ashley Kane FB
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 9:56 AM UTC
How many
Does it take till
Your personality
Turns
To a sorry
Where you’re not
The protagonist
But the jury
Call you guilty
To your Prerogative
I meant it the other way but no one see it
So what can I sway
One man army
Fight towards believe
Ion really **** with no body
But they against me
Drunk or high they exclude me
From one of the best ideology
I hate that
Couldn’t even turn back time
It could never rhyme
This isn’t old English
Not a game
Can’t even explain
Poetry is vague
Or even vain
Mark of Kane
I would not explain
File a petition
Fairness is not dismissive
Mention something n
That no one listen
I’d share you what I have for your next visit.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 3:30 AM UTC
There you were:
Second to last track
Side 1, “Atlantic Soul Classics”.1987
R.E.S.P.E.C.T. (Take out the TCP)
The power, the control, the energy,
Never heard a **** thing like it.
Then that Cliff Richard Show footage I saw on some old BBC clip show (yeah, I know…Cliff, eh?)
“Don’t Play That Song” in crackly black & white
Sorry for the language, Sister.. but **** the power of your piano playing in that moment made me realise that you were not “just a singer” but a full-on force to be reckoned with.
Like Sinatra you studied lyrics like a monk deep in illumination and then blew the song away with your received otherworldly knowledge:
Eleanor Rigby
The Weight
The Dark End of The Street
Border Song
Bridge Over Troubled Water
I Say A Little Prayer
Oh, these were your songs, now. Don’t let anyone forget it.
But there was something more to you than all of this.
The way MLK kissed you with beaming pride at some long, forgotten award ceremony.
The way you sashayed African culture when you stepped out in public.
The way you ripped up your own records when you tread the boards & faced your humbled audience.
The way you stood by Angela Davis when she was hooked up on some stupid jackshit Hoover charge.
The way you verbalized the black American experience not just through countless moments of sheer liberation but in the solemn way you stepped up to the piano on Amazing Grace
You comforted this whiter-than-white Paddy on more than one occasion and forged a path of hope in many of his troubled waters.
Oh, God we will miss you & your power – all of it.
That once in a millennia voice whose measured restraint & joyful release touched millions.
You will never walk alone.
Farewell Queen.
You are finally at peace.
Thank you, thank you Ms. Franklin
Sean M. O’Kane
16/8/18
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 5:21 PM UTC
I would not recommend Madness
distrust runs riot
dissecting myself with wings clipped deemed a flight risk
and I'm naked lay face down on the bed
and I trace tramlines
of forgiveness
because my mauled body pays
penance and I am my own
whipping boy who sees me as
a war zone of self-destruction
an addict to my own sickness
bat **** crazy
like those female poets
and their creative madness
Sexton, Plath, Bishop, Woolf
and Merini and Kane
and I prayed: Lord
forgive me for my sins
I would not recommend
Madness
© Sia Jane
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
Poetry is the direct cause of death of boredom.
Spoken words exist to excite the human soul
and to crown artistry with the nectar of wisdom
Poetry has more decibels than the Superbowl.
Poetry is the Ganga of the human soul.
It induces a beautiful feeling that stupefies
and leaves the mind dazed like a drunken fowl,
yet it delivers results that really satisfies.
Poetry flows from the fountain of Wakanda
and permeates the arid soil of Timbuktu.
Poetry is the vault to the treasures of Zamunda,
where Mammy Wata guards the Kane of Mobutu.
Poetry is the language used at the creation.
When earth was young and everything was dark,
The great arbiter called out light and put things in motion.
He used spoken words to tell Noah to build the ark.
Poetry is life and life is in coexistance with poetry.
Before ancient Africa and the pyramid of Egypt,
Poetry was cooked and stored in God's pantry.
Ready for use in the Garden of Eden's script.
#IvanBrookspoetry ©️
#Bassapoet✍️
5.24.2019
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 1:30 AM UTC
I killed monday with tuesday. Hit it so hard it gave wednesday a concussion. Which apparently made thursday mad since I messed up his **** day. To get rid of our problems and let bygons be bygons we made a toast in the honor of friendship since it is thirsty thursday. Party was insane. I met this fine girl named Friday. We were both a lil wasted and did somethings grown folks can relate too. I met another girl saturday. Equally as fine as the day before, hungover she said she can take care of me and make me feel better with time. I believed her and let my walls down. I was stripped raw of my layers. Did the same thing I did to friday. What a trip, exctasy until I realized, I arrived and could have picked up some extra baggage in my journey to and fro. I kneeled down on sunday praying for forgiveness and to wake up from this confusing dream. My prayers were answered but with a price to pay. knock knock knock police broke down the door within a moments notice. I am encarcerated for ****** in the first degree of a Monday morning, **** of Friday night and drunken driving on thirsty thursday. I pleaded guilty of loving friday, wanting fun on thursday. Only saturday would speak to me for she loved me, while encarcerated she gave birth to twins, in memorium of my sins I named them monday and tuesday. Wednesday awoke from the coma and married the drunk thursday. Friday is still a carbon spitful copy of saturday. And my faith within sunday still lies within my soul. If I die tonight this will be my final memoir and my sons will become ******** Godwilling they will not be mirror images of Kane and Able. But one will most likely be hated. Sadly these are the days of our lives.
Nov 21, 2010
Nov 21, 2010 at 4:03 PM UTC
There's a lot of news
these days
about the one percent
who have all the money
and the ninety nine percent
of us
who don't have much
of anything
so I got thinking
about how sad and unfortunate
it must be
to be the one percent
with stalkers and identity thieves
and the media attacks
and the hatred towards them
and how they have to protect themselves
in their fortresses
clinging to their fortunes
dreaming like Citizen Kane
of the happy times
in their chilhood, sledding,
when they were poor
while us ninety nine percent
who are the lucky ones
like me with my income of poverty
are greedy for a piece of them
so I even want a million dollars
even though I have enough
of everything
so I don't know if any of this
is true,
but think of a rich person
sitting on his toilet...
where is his money then?
Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 9:53 AM UTC
Andrew Gn
Probably the most prolific Singaporean designer, Gn graduated from the renowned Saint Martins School of Art and Design in London and the Domus Academy in Milan before joining Emanuel Ungaro in 1992. He launched his namesake label in 1996, establishing a fan base among the Parisian high society and A-list celebrities such as Jessica de Rothschild and Sarah Jessica Parker for his luxurious fabrics and exquisite embellishments. Gn was awarded the President’s Design Award in 2007 and is stocked in all the major continents, with his atelier based in the Le Marais district in Paris.
Ashley Isham
The other Singaporean high fashion designer to hit big time in the international circuit, Isham established his namesake label in London in 2000, and is a show fixture at London Fashion Week. The label is known for its sharp, contemporary tailoring and high-octane glamour, and is a hit among film, TV and music stars as well as British royalty.
Aijek
Self-taught designer Danelle Woo creates easy-breezy, ultra-feminine pieces in sustainable fabrics. Aijek is stocked at multi-label boutiques in China, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Indonesia, Latin America, the Middle East and the United States.
Depression
The neo-Gothic ready-to-wear label’s stark, minimalist designs are stocked in Hong Kong, Belgium, Japan and the U.S., and counts celebrities like Adam Lambert and The Black-Eyed Peas as fans.
Sabrina Goh
The feted Singaporean designer stocks her easy-to-wear pieces from her namesake label at multi-label boutiques in the United States, the Fred Segal store in Japan and a London-based online store Not Just A Label.
Max Tan
The avant-garde label features experimental silhouettes and a contemporary artistic flair, and is stocked in Europe, the Middle East, San Francisco and Taiwan.
Benjamin Barker
This stylish menswear brand founded by designer Nelson Yap in 2009 now has two stores in Melbourne and offers custom tailoring as well. It also offers shipping to Australia and New Zealand via its website BenjaminBarker.co. .
In Good Company
The well-loved minimalist label with unusual silhouettes fronted by designers Sven Tan and Kane Tan is stocked in Hong Kong at Kapok, at various departmental stores in Jakarta, Indonesia, including Sogo, Seibu and Galleries Lafayette Jakarta and in New York’s Saks Fifth Avenue.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-brisbane
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC
If yesterday was an old man,
He would be old by now.
His hair and lashes would
Be full of shining grey hair
And walking with a Kane.
He would probably be frail
And proudly speaking of the
Good old days marred with
Conquests and exploits from
From his youthful adventures.
The intricate details of his flamboyant
Years and youthful antics and shenanigans would bring sparkles
To his old wrinkled face.
There would be tears in his eyes
When lamenting on love and sorrows...
Squinting his eyes and fumbling to
Find faded photographs hidden away
In ancient boxes from dusty shelves.
If yesterday was an old man,
He would speak between bad dentures
With shaky voice of an aging legend.
He would go on and on with tales
Of all the places he has been and
Calling the old names of cities and
People long gone but alive in his
Now on and off and fading memories.
He would talk about voyages taken aboard old vessels packed with ancient
Cargoes and Slaves and whale oil barrels.
He would recount stories of monsters
At sea and great beasts that once roamed the earth when it was young
And green and void of pollution.
About places and people and various
Cultures ,would be captivating stories
That young people would only imagine and listen in absolute awe, almost to a point of envy for his rich stories of a good life once lived in the past.
If yesterday was an old man, he would have a repetoire of ancient skills and knowledge that no one has today.He would talk about locomotives and steamships captained by bearded old sailors with horse drawn couches driven by hardened cowboys and couch men.
If yesterday was an old man, he would talk about world war one and two like it was just yesterday.
If yesterday was an old man, he would know more of yesterday than today.
#IvanBrooksPoetry ©️
4.16.2019
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 4:24 PM UTC
Invested in you
I find our better angels give ground
******* by our egalitarian feelings for each other
Trumpeted by Gabriel’s miscast players
Bedeviled, we take what are yours, mine, and ours
Accumulated wealth protected from predators
Gives in to charitable impulse
Gives out, a gated community against colored encroachment
My bias against the opposition
Dissolves in your arms
We resolve to devote our energy
Toward getting off on the best footing available
Place where we care and don’t simultaneously
Then make fun of our foibles laughing at each other
The same way black and white grays as we mature color blind
Loggerheads whipsawed and dovetailed
Until we forget why we ever came together in the first place
Then remember this location, this smell, this touch, this taste
Karass, storm's eye, held center, Kane's rosebud cathected
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 12:55 AM UTC
This is my last will and testament
I have done many Terrible unspeakable things. By far the worst is what i have done to you my baby brother. Who knew know better. I leave all i have to the love of my life. The only one insane enough. To stay by my side, all these year.
My only regret is never telling you who i truly am and, what i did. I was 17 you just a boy of 12. Mother and father took you to your favorite movie. I left home to do your chores because i was born out of wedlock named with a ******** name, and hidden from the world. I took your beatings and punishments. Never speaking out never. I hired the man just to scare you, mother and father. It wasn't supposed to end the way it did. I'm sorry Bruce. I'm sorry i left you the way i did. I'm sorry i made Alfred promise to never tell you. The one thing i will never regret is what i made you and I.
Love your brother Joseph Kane
The Joker
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
Planetary landings, not always that great
picking up a monster, no, not as freight
Not sure if it was breakfast, maybe it was brunch
Kane didn't like the grub, his gut the creature lunch
As it silently slides, through all the duct work
hard for them to tell, if it has a toothy smirk
Slinking in the halls, taking a stealthy walk
a sneaky little *** drooling as it stalks
The robot tried to **** our heroine, with delinquent ****
corporation ditched them, shares to be forsworn
Ash headless, finally spilling all the beans
weapons and research, by any way, any means
No hope of rescue, so far out in deep space
Captain Dallas missing, gone without a trace
Ripley oozing tension, trying to escape
crew is dead, or absent, or in an unknown state
Thank engineers and builders, for airlocks on the ship
blasted from the hatch, deported, on it's illegal Alien trip
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
I) Eve
Eve became
Foolishly bold
To give up
Her faith in God.
Exhibiting lust
For a tantalizing apple
She opted to be
A dust;
Heeding a snake-
Incarnated
Devil’s word
“If you eat
The forbidden fruit
You will acquire
Wisdom on par with God.”
Duped by Satan
Unfaithful, disobedient
She turned a reason
For the lapse of man.
For lacking faith
She heard,
With jealousy
Her son Kane
****** Her son Abel
To death!
“Eve tarnished
The image
Of the womenfolk!”
We usually hear
In a religious talk!
II) Saint Mary
From Birth to death
Unwavering was
In God
Saint Mary’s faith.
In her youth,
Blind to earthly
Allurements,
When summoned
To serve God
Happy she drew forth
“Displaying alacrity
To the call of
The Almighty
Is my pleasure
My duty!”
Saint Mary knew
Miracles untold
Is capable to do God.
Acid tested like
Aglow set gold
Threatened by
Herod’s sword
Scorned by hypocrites
Hoary headed Christ killers
Her faith she never
Failed to tightly hold.
In Golgotha
The whiplashes all
Were scars on her soul!
Unlike many of us
It is not like a fiction
Or movie script
She witnessed
Christ’s crucifixion.
She reconciled
Man and God,
Till to date
And down the road
This miracle will be told.
She allowed a pride
Womenfolk could ride.
In the catalog of grace
As she won a higher place
In God’s face
Above angels and
Below God
Is the row
She was
Allowed to hold.
Like Saint Gabriel in the sky
Like Elizabeth on earth
Angels and human beings
Praise her why?
Doubt have not I
She is Holy
In a way description
That defy!
III) Devil
Duping Eve
The control on man
Devil got
Thanks to
Saint Mary ‘s obedience,
Before he realized
The mystery of incarnation,
He lost.
For via
God- Saint Mary’s
Chemistry mankind
Is snatched from
Devil’s grip and fold.
To retaliate
To belittle
Saint Mary
Still a python
A snake,
A sanctimonious preacher,
A faithful
That has gone astray
Devil makes
A frantic bid to date.
In various religious forms
He seeks a vent
To disgorge
His hate.
Oblivious to
The Virgin's word
“Generations will
Call me
The graceful, the immaculate…”
IV) God
Via Saint Mary
Once more
The Almighty God
Drew close
Mankind to his fold!
“For use and throw
God use Saints!”
Is the worst mistake
Believers could make
Eating the poisonous cake
Devil in various
Religious forms bake.///
Mar 28, 2020
Mar 28, 2020 at 5:50 AM UTC
Citizen Kane
Who could sustain
The horrid disdain
Not living up to
All the hype
An ego undone
Behind the public curtain
Eyes, lies, and truths betold.
I want my 119 minutes back Welles.
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 3:09 PM UTC
Toys being delivered all the way from the North Pole
The snow being our open curtain with the wonders of behold
Sheer delight for every Girl and Boy
Christmas trees throughout all households danced Christmas morning
Kids everywhere waking up from their yond
Look alive kids, we are your living toys to look upon
The sight brought a lot of joy
Candy Kane stripes that seemed to glisten
The songs of Christmas made you want to listen
The Candy Kane’s lighted up as they danced
You felt as if you were in a trance
Toy Ballet Dolls that all stood tall
They also danced for all
The Nutcracker approach
The Jack in the Box who was a joke
It was laughter in words he spoke
Toy scale model trains came to life
A Polar Express feel
The Christmas experience that was for real
Yet the kids were having so much fun
It’s Christmas Day and we are no way done
The Christmas toys connected with the world in bringing togetherness
Only a Child and an Adult are the witness
Snow was falling outside at every house
It even captivated every living mouse
There was no time to waste
While the kids all rushed to play in the snow
Share a moment in giving to less fortunate that you don’t know
Now we can relax and take it slow
Let us all have some Hot Chocolate and reflect on Christmas Day
Happy faces with a feeling of hope
This is a time for living and knowing how to cope
Christmas being our twinkle in one star
The idea of the Wise Men who travelled very far
It was a place in the desert where there were no cars
Camel was the only transportation to get around
In the distance, a shining light and a lonely star
Destination simply “Miracle”
As the Wise Men arrived they saw a little babe in the Manger
It wasn’t just any little babe, Jesus being for the world
Music played and Joy that was relayed
The night skies seemed to come alive
Yes it is Christmas, but the joyous occasion in triumphant
Come all Ye Faithful, Joy to the World, Oh Come all to Bethlehem
A night that was and tomorrow that will be
Happy Holidays that comes from me.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 2:19 AM UTC
Found on Hollywood Boulevard,
these shining stars of the silver screen,
bigger and better than us normal types.
Flint Magnum, Clint Hudson, and
of course we'd be remiss to miss,
the star, Luke "The Gent" Gable.
A modern day Rat Pack were they,
in films, on shows, even on the radio,
they were all over the place, often together.
Flint Magnum was the leading man
of Deadly Picture, the horror classic,
and countless other scream-scenes.
Clint Hudson played the simple man
the every-man in every rom-com
your mind could ever fathom.
But The Gent was the biggest of them,
leading roles in dramas and thrillers,
and comedies, and even chillers.
Oscars and Tony's and even a few Annie's,
won this shining star. Critics adored him,
and the masses wanted to be him.
It can be said with a grain of truth,
that the pack was best when together.
Whenever they met, magic was made.
Their life's epic finally culminated,
in a 4-hour glory, of action and drama,
it won every award, with praise galore.
Fiery Flint and Careful Clint wrote the yarn,
and played their role fitting, while the Gent
directed and led this star-studded affair.
Citizen Kane could hardly compare,
to the grandeur and scope of this tome,
with it, their reputations forever sealed.
Clint, Flint, and the Gent who favored
a fine hat are the finest fellows of our
and maybe any era of film or culture.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC
cute.
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 9:05 AM UTC
This mind is the treasure
You all hold the key
To unlock
this golden nugget
located inside of me...
Verbal emancipation
More than just a copper coin
Its like Fort Knox inside a skull
Located in Illinois.
All I need is one thought,
One Phrase,
one Word,
Might thinks its nothing now
But a billion pennies
Can change a egg in to bird
Boy into a man.
A woman into a Queen
I mean Its all in what you say
Are you living the Dream
or just reliving your dreams
You can unlock the writers block
just live, love, and believe!!....
So as I conjure up a potion
that will leave you spell bound..
I'm A Wizard off the Wall...
that once shot Bullets at your mind...
The good kind Don't worry
Your Kane, Kendricks, Murphy
So You've opened a Door
to a supernatural experience..
Its the PyschoSuperhero
Raw, Brisk, and Delirious
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC
ANG'O MOMIYO PINY MABOR? Agoyo erokamano Ne Nyasaye mosewara kuom tuoche,dhier kod masira.Kendo daher mar goyo erokamano gi chunya duto ne ji duto mosebedo ka konya kendo tala e yore mag rieko gi ngima.Ndikoni en achiel kuom weche masetemo mondo andik ne joherana kendo ji duto ma puonjore yore ngima kowuok kuom weche ma andiko . Nitiere ndalo moro mane asandora malit bang' akweda modhuro ,kendo ndalo mang'eny asetemo wuok kuom mibadhi gi masira go. Omiyo ne aneno kit dhano kane chandruok omako chunya,chandruok mar manyo rieko.Ji mangeny ne oweya kagiwacho ni gik matimo ok kare,ji matin ahinya emane obedo piny mondo owinj gimane chando chunya.Jogo duto agoyonegi erokamano. Omiyo kane andiko gigi chunya ne gombo mondo ji duto oyud rieko kawuok gi gik ma awacho gi. Ji mang'eny temo mondo oyud gik piny gi yore ma ok ber,an agoyo erokamano ne ruodha kuom taya e ler ka adimbora mondo abed ng'ato ma an kawuono. Andiko wechegi mondo uyud ler kowuok kuom puonjo madieri.Piny ka ok nyal res gi muma inyalo rese gi thum gi ndiko.Omiyo akao kinde mondo andik weche maneno ,ka pogo oganda e pinyka. An ajaote.Kik igoya lero nikech apogora gi mibadhi gi miriambo.Ruaka uru e chunyu,kendo ukao kinde uwinj weche matemo pimo. Ne Ji duto marito ndiko ma asebedo kandiko ndalo mane apondo e **** dhano,beduru mana gi kwe nikech chunya nikodu machiegni,aherou. -Synopsia mar Piny Mabor,Budding Dirt. "As an artist, I feel that we must try many things - but above all, we must dare to fail. You must have the courage to be bad - to be willing to risk everything to really express it all."-Budding Dirt My mind is a sea of monarch butterflies. That flutter, all hella haphazard and disordered. As delicate as rice paper. And impatient. No matter how I chase them. I cannot catch them. Because while I’m clomping through the brush, swinging a net and crushing the seedlings, they are dancing from flower to flower, unperturbed by my pursuit. Flittering in the sun like the skittish memory of a dream in the light of day'-Budding Dirt
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 1:35 AM UTC
It the competition bro, It’s the competition bro.
Its them against us, it us against them.
Reactions rooted in our brain stem, **** them means win.
We compete against our own human skin,
our own akin, Luke Anakin, I’m your father.
Competition have you Kane and Able, killing your own brother.
Competition is division, submission, inferiority, hierarchy, inequality, habituated, into a sophisticated jungle of pleasure and identity.
Can’t realize equality within a system grounded in competitive mentalities,
the Olympics, our games, who you rooting for? Lebron James, it’s all the same.
You can stand against hate, you can hate injustice, throw you money and morals, type a tweet and rest on your laurels,
but till competition dies, it matters not what's spoken oral.
It’s all a power struggle, its us against them, and somehow the ideal is everybody wins?
The hierarchy continues and you are a part of what's condemned. Lets not continue to pretend that its all racial,
competition accommodates all ends.
This dynamic wont change, don’t hold your breathe, number one death is cardiac arrest.
Fatality by food, that’s fear and survival, too much is never enough….don’t be fooled or get political correct tough, competition is cannibal, makes us remain animals,
breeds one to see threat, to defeat and make victory one’s meat, to compete and civilly eat another person's heart beat.
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 1:53 PM UTC
The museum feels like heaven, feels like I could walk into the corner Pollack and the indiscriminate Monet, but there’s the characterization of Thomas Kane and you hate Mondays security guard.
The man with a beard followed me all the way from the Impressionist room to the modern films and when he finally made me lift my eyes from the canvas, his were turquoise and shook me awake.
I kept running up the stairs because I finally found out where they keep the hidden garden with the spiraled copper fountain and I laughed when I found my reflection in the Italian enamel.
You fell asleep with your head on my knees.
The weight of your skull was alarmingly heavy, so I played with your hair until you woke up. The moment of recognition on your face was so human I wanted to cry.
You scrunch up your eyebrows and touch your glasses trying to remember and a tiny echo of a perfect smile plays on your lips. You kiss me exactly and hum along.
You carried a contraband white umbrella into the gallery so we hid it under a desk. Your helmet was still blank so I gave you some concept art. Your languid loss of service as a multitude of goodbyes allow me to kiss your forehead right as your thoughts hit the pillow.
So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I understand why you tuck me into a warmer blanket before you leave for work in the morning with your heavy boots and your thermos and let me sleep while you shower and kiss me awake for breakfast with a cup of coffee in hand.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
FOR ***** RUDY RAY STYLE:
Was on one cold and winters day
was born this dangerous lyricist
by the name of King *****
The day he was born he ask for the mic.
Ha ha ha was all that he said: Like
“I am through laughing
let's move ahead “That sultry laugh gave us a fright.
He was gangster like his Mamma—
So I had work to do. “Talk sweet to the ladies I said to my son.
Give um that work and get the job done.
Trying to get him to talk nice at first was hard;
Then out of the blue he was spitting sweet bars ….
THEN I HEARD HIM ON A CIPHER-
NOT TOO MANY ARE NICER..
Kane ***** used to accuse folks of
yammin' his wings..he then realized
he had slammed them himself.
He was able to laughed now more than thrice.
And his Swag was sounding twice as nice.
He still talked tough and his manner was rough,
As it seemed the ladies had peeped him...
They ignored his roar,,, and heard his pain.
Soon got to know that he was a smart main.
He knows what he knows and that's how it goes.
He's down to earth and stays on his toes.
And if he don't know -He'll find someone that does.
.......with this Rhyme" BY RUDY RAY MOORE"..
I 'll close...
“Now—YOU WALK AROUN HERE WITH YA NOSE ALL SNOTTY -
IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING..
YOU NEED TO ASK SOMEBODY”.
:
.
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC
He's a Taylor Swift song
Dancing with me in my wildest dreams
He's Sam Hunt and Kane Brown
Giving me a taste of Heaven
Only to disappear when I wake up
He's my delicate heart
Stranded in the ocean
Surrounded by waves
And currents taking him away
He's still all that I need
Even when he doesn't want me
He's Cajun Louisiana
Delicious king cake
Living in sunny California
Giving me the darkest days
He's my white wine nights
When I'm all alone
Praying for his family
Though he won't be mine
He's the smile on my face
The feeling I chase
An unattainable embrace
Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 5:35 PM UTC
i went from being 77kg
to being 115kg,
add that to your Newtonian
concept of gravity via
jenny dinski;
comrade Kane rather
than citizen, and we just about
buried Stalin next to the
new age mummy of Lenin;
so hoorah ******* Ra: an iron eagle
to boot, pecking the hairs of
Jesus' rubric of the monkish crowns
of abbreviated hairlines, receding,
or if not receding then encapsulating
a chanced oasis; still the monks though;
and given the Templars... trouble,
either militant Islam revisionism
or Baphomet idolatry to counter
homosexuality.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC