"lax" poems
Summer heat summer sweet
With a wealthy nature, rich pheromones erupt
Birds n tha bees escape the trees
Please don't plant your seeds
But throw the leaves
Up n up
To get down and drop
Where the dirt pops
Ken keseys ashes
Edible umbrellas turn rainy days on their head spinning pupils wide void of discontentment
Fairies fly off clouds and stars fall at day
Impossible, feelings are blown in and out of proportion to fit a screen thats too small
Tough love
Tough life
Slick surface don't let me fall off the boat as it rocks
Swisher wraps over the curves
Got me feelin lucky like a charm
Cheef all day got me smellin dank as a Rastafarian Only stoppin to sip my Captain Morgans moonshine
Till we hit the caribbean
Then Jack's got me headin for tides end
Early
Flush the bile outta your system
And spiral out of controls iron hand
**** responsibility, Apathy rules all.
Paper crane ******* get all superficial but yellow bones make my brain go fuzzy in smokey ***
In n out, fast n slow
Nicotine dominates
My senses are lost at Molly
That ***** finger ****** my life
Made me *** every time
This unhealthy relation in action doesn't phase me yet, I'm too young to think that far
I mean
What do you expect?
A Teens crowded perceptions can be judged like a bums intentions.
Peace my brotha
Dandy danny says theres a way out
-side with the rap culture
Shots of rebellion pour through the cracks we each fill
The glass
Is too cracked to be see-through
West coast vibes kick back lax attitude I carry on my shoulders
Forever green is my state
Wash that **** off your lawn crack *** haters I'll spray paint your ***
Equality's the goal
**** race
**** sexuality
I see soul
Open up
Show me your beat
I'll count bars as we spit elicited slurs drizzled to drops leaving the cops to stop us
Quit
Obeyin the brand
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
Tick tock, Tick tock, Tock Tock ticking
Clocks cluck, catching curious cries
Several seconds slide, slowly sticking
Eclectic evil ever eager to eat out eyes
Tock tock, tick tick Tock
danger dances down, depicting doom
Hands hold hearts heavily in hock
aren't all able to articulately assume?
Clock is currently counting costs
justifying jumps and juggling jacks
tabulating time that is tossed
lightening liberal lust and loving lax
tick tick tick, tick tick tick
destination is a detonation despised
tock tock tock, tock tock tock
sheep sleep soundly shrouded, so surprised
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
Like a captive, I capture rapture wrapping around stakes that matter
Joan of Arc battered
Also tattered but, easily dismissive
Refracted from fractured prominent phrases people play with
Distinctly persuasive and evasive, dressed boyishly attractive, lax stature, dawning armor crafted by absence as if asked about it-
I’m drifted
Protection is principle prerequisite, when fire is lit
I sort of implore your aorta before it’s incinerated to ashes
Dethatched as a habit, with swords or hatchets crafted to singe heartstrings that attached it
While I slash slick Rick as a quick fix,
To fend for pretend pretenses or presumed tricks,
I can’t quit
Cause I hit lips against hash spliffs fashioned with dashes of passion all while rationing fireball cinnamon sips
Martyr to avoidance
I gaze at fabled dazed gossipers galvanizing grips on gritty grapevines while licking warning labels through smoke haze on blurred lines
Capably unstable
Other eyes attending scandal circles able to shout lies and rekindle handed arguments on tables with locked smiles stay boxed in
Avidly amiable
Searching for counterparts when combusted or branded
Toying with matches loses meaning when rules reseed
Those vagabonds claim love is some all end hard bent to mend what the same above can’t comprehend.
Breaking boredom, I pillage pillows with night terrors
And ardent arsonists yearn for flames that churn, turn, liquefy and learn learned thoughts and smoldered feelings
Completely complacent
Melting in one another they are completing each other like two candles tryst true at a wedding day
However later the blaze is severed, smoke sears, and charred black wick stands alone for them.
Aggressive and progressive.
As for me never pleading, fire forever fleets to streets between iron bars I built that cage in deep heat and seep dire dreams once desired
Suppose I’m a skeptic
Roasted or disconnected
Just jaded, just met you
Always over it too soon
Burnt but I’m amused.
I’m useful.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
i was born all naturally
formed in a lax factory
im actually
a hack with ******* in my nose, practically,
every day, haphazardly
stumbling home, half asleep
i cant tell whats happening
vision begins blackening
im whack like kriss kross
crack like rick ross
major brown boy to houston
be like, "yes, we have liftoff"
dont like me when i'm ****** off
cause ***** i'm bruce banner
or maybe i'm bruce wayne
either way, i got mad manners
tearing down walls like berlin
preaching like its a sermon
potential begins to burgeon
i'll cut you up like a surgeon
killing in place of coercion
so you better lower the curtain
my head and my body are hurtin
so tell me how quick does the world spin?
i'm taddling on ya, you can call me a toddler
but the snitchin n' **** is somethin im never fond of
and i never grow up, cause i'm the neverland smuggler
peter pan turns into one of my best customers
i never grew into my head, im not cocky
never had the eye of the tiger, im not rocky
growing up i never got in fights or caused a lotta ****
but presently im screaming **** the world", i've got a bone to pick
i've gotta problem and i think its the probable cause
you hold me captive, keep me trapped in your facets of laws
looks of repulsion are what cause me to brandish my claws
constant compulsions reminiscent of prodigal flaws
i've gotta problem and i think its the probable cause
see im a goblin shark i'll sink in my nautical jaws
im not a joker im a jester with lesser facades
wrought with insomnia cause drugs are american gods
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 1:39 AM UTC
Easily Tux
Laxity Use
Laxity Sue
Taxis Yule
Taxi Yules
Tau Sexily
Axe I *****
Yea Xi ****
Yea Xi Lust
Aye Xi ****
Aye Xi Lust
Ail Yes Tux
Sail Ye Tux
Ails Ye Tux
Italy Ex Us
Laity Ex Us
Taxi Lye Us
La Suety Xi
Talus Ye Xi
Lax Yeti Us
Lax Suety I
Lax Ye Suit
Lay Exit Us
Lay Suet Xi
Lay Tuxes I
Lay Ex Suit
Sat Yule Xi
Taus Lye Xi
Sax Yule Ti
Sax Yule It
Say Lie Tux
Say Lei Tux
Say Lute Xi
Say Exult I
At Yules Xi
At Yule Xis
At Yule Six
Tau Lyes Xi
Tau Lye Xis
Tau Lye Six
Tax Yules I
Tax Yule Is
Ax Lieu Sty
Ax Yules Ti
Ax Yules It
Ax Yule Tis
Ax Yule Its
Ax Yule Sit
Ax Lye Suit
Ya Isle Tux
Ya Lies Tux
Ya Leis Tux
Ya Lutes Xi
Ya Exults I
Ya Lute Xis
Ya Lute Six
Ya Exult Is
Ay Isle Tux
Ay Lies Tux
Ay Leis Tux
Ay Lutes Xi
Ay Exults I
Ay Lute Xis
Ay Lute Six
Ay Exult Is
A Lyes I Tux
A Lye Is Tux
A Ex I *****
A Ye Xi ****
A Ye Xi Lust
La Yes I Tux
La Yet Xi Us
La Ye Is Tux
Las Ye I Tux
Lax Yet I Us
Lax Ye Ti Us
Lax Ye It Us
Lay Ex Ti Us
Lay Ex It Us
As Lye I Tux
Say El I Tux
At Lye Xi Us
Tau Ex I Sly
Tax Lye I Us
Ax Lye Ti Us
Ax Lye It Us
Ax Ye I ****
Ax Ye I Lust
Ax Ye Lit Us
Ya El Is Tux
Ya Let Xi Us
Ya Ex I ****
Ya Ex I Lust
Ya Ex Lit Us
Ay El Is Tux
Ay Let Xi Us
Ay Ex I ****
Ay Ex I Lust
Ay Ex Lit Us
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
I do not like the architecture of the mall.
It's discordant and lax. The architects
dismissed all Edwardian charm
and even the Gothic grace.
When crossing my field of vision,
the mall concedes defeat,
whimpering against a prismatic sky:
"I am a hodgepodge of ambition distressed,
resolute on pioneering a style unlike anything past,
but locked off in dead history, trapped
in a monologue whose audience is myself."
I presume it's the same across the world,
architecture molded into something impulsive,
something so forced it falls flat.
Where have all the artchitects gone?
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
When the funding is cut
So the hospitals shut
That’s a Tory
When the poverty bites
And you lose human rights
That’s a Tory
Such excess
Better reassess
Better repossess
Better get yourself private healthcare
Overtaxed if you work
Unemployed? Then you're scrounging on welfare
When there’s bigoted views
Blatant lies on the news
That’s a Tory
When the biggest and best
Are too rich to arrest
That’s a Tory
But they’re lax
Covering the cracks
Never paying tax
Claiming everything on expenses
They can steal with a smile
While they peddle their flimsy defences
When they're guilty of fraud
And they're banking abroad
That's a Tory
If they're selling your school
When 'austere' means 'cruel'
That's a Tory
Too much spin
Slogan and a grin
Wearing pretty thin
Bussing people in to applaud them
Any law can be bought
If you're well off enough to afford them
That's all folks and remember, you can't spell Theresa May without heresy
**
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 7:04 PM UTC
Somewhere along the line
it feels like I lost my poetry.
But I've always had a deep affinity of childhood curious-gaze with the light of a passing car slicing through a slumped drapery in the dead of a powerless October night
like a fumbling mouse with night-vision, glassy eyed, walk, walk, walk
run, run, run
scurry-rubber like an imperial humvee of red-carpet glamor.
Somewhere along the line
the freeze of a less-than-bourgeoise temperature never felt close to Antarctic
until the ring of a cell-phone became my national anthem
and the complacent all-eternity-and-everything-we-are-and-more reflective one-eye of a laptop became my national flag
I waived it with surrender calling to all nation states that 'I don't give a sweet ****
entertain me.'
watching politics like sports and sports like politics I couldn't help but hear the old Native inside of me scream in suffocated final breaths so I turned up the volume to drown him out
and when I wished to return to his comforting embrace, I found he had drown to death
so all I could do was stand over his wading body in the river of my mind and lax my shoulders in defeat.
I rang the midnight church bell of 'send new message' to tell the world that didn't care
the shaman is dead.
all they said was
'finally, the shaman is dead.'
I nodded, laughed, locked the bathroom door
and cried until the river ran dry
the shamans body so far down creek I could pretend to forget he had ever existed
the ache inside became a masked anonymity with the glare of Dorian Gray
I shrugged and said, 'I could never make time anyways'
and fell right back into my sleepy routine with another cup of coffee.
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 10:06 PM UTC
A simple bottle,
Cheap chunky plastic,
Designer garbage.
Empty of its liquid energy.
Glossy label parrying the flash,
Glaring retrieval of light.
Sickly bold orange cap,
Impudently tight,
Defending the blanched carpet below.
Moment of fragility,
Suspended on the humid waves of air,
Eternity in an insubstantial moment.
It wafts away from his fingers,
Plastic given wings,
Fixed by his steely eyes,
A forced arc,
Stretching to the ceiling.
Focused intensity.
An infinite gap looms
Instants before the catch.
He didn’t notice the stray,
A camera pointed his way,
Capturing this moment,
Making it magical.
Clarity is threatened by obscurity,
People pressing in,
Bending the frame.
Time is lost,
Too much wasted on boredom,
And playing catch with yourself.
Spine lax, body slumped.
Interruptions and distractions surround.
His face vivid in the mix,
Lost in the wash of faces,
So much like his,
Flushed by the same blood.
His unwavering gaze
Holds the emptiness in shackles.
Second of silence in the crushing sound,
Relentless muttering rumble,
The voices of family,
So constantly buzzing.
Jumbled tumbling voices.
A peanut gallery seeking constant attention.
The camera congeals the moment,
Silencing the mass.
In the absence the bottle and the boy
Infinitely alone,
Endlessly still.
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 10:33 PM UTC
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/first-date-17/
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/first-date-ii/
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/first-date-iii/
(best read in order)
He blankets her with a mist that is fine and as pure as his postpartum soul is able to manifest. He’s sorry that she is sobbing on the dirt floor. He can’t think past the hunger that is beating upon her, which beats upon him. He is angry that his ancient predatory instincts are gaping to the fore.
For the ancient being now gently weeping on a cold dirt floor.
Why did he not recognize her? How did he get so lax in the thinking that cattle could disguise it self? A Wolf in Sheep’s clothing? Well... it’s not like he has not donned the same costume!
He had been a Protector for so long. Rising each Sunset with the challenges that bring on the most predatory beasts that hunger for pain. He, alone, has stood beside Humanity to bring the world a semblance of normality, morality, a passing moment when they thought they were King of the world… but their inflated egos were never touched by doubt.
Because of him.
But she brings him down to the basest level.
He feels…
For her
For her hunger
For her emptiness
For her utter contemptuousness
She is the creature that he has been birthed to fight. The utter savageness that she brings forth when it becomes night.
He alone, in eternity, wanders the earth to make Mortal life the one thing that is right.
She lifts her head from the cold dirt floor to stare at him. He materializes as a persona that should scare her, one that heralds Death, but his emotions are fraught with peril. She is important to him. He may have been birthed to bring Death but he was never denied that one could become his Life.
His pulse quickens, her eyes widen, her pulse quickens, he is afraid of the sight that lays bare in front of him. His fangs are buried deep in his bottom lip, he can not say a word even if his immortal soul depends on it.
She licks her lips in hesitation, maybe anticipation; she could be licking her lips because of the small droplet of blood that lingers in the corner of her mouth. He wants to touch his tongue to said lips and cheek and ear and throat and, well HELL, he’s happy to continue south… as long as his tongue is touching skin…
She looks away, briefly, and cries again. She is unable to fight past her hunger even though she has recognized the Protector.
She needs protecting too!
She’s so hungry!
But from the swelling of his body, so is he…
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 5:28 AM UTC
Running down the field
The wind blowing in my face
Hot sun on my neck
Sliding into place
Stopping her forward motion
Forcing a bad pass
Picking the ball up
Cradling in my stick
Lacrosse sets me free.
May 9, 2010
May 9, 2010 at 7:43 AM UTC
I am done with my graceless heart, truly.
For it only beats to make me survive.
It's taken me through stark streets unduly.
Broken into shards in his hands, deprived.
He took the moon from my eyes; tore my soul.
I became an empty grave in the sun.
As frail and lax as a newborn foal
Distressed, from my hunter I could not run.
It is always darkest before the dawn.
I awoke from my slumber in the Spring.
I won't be that shell again or so drawn.
Hold it to up my ear and hear it ring.
Grief doth fade and hope doth thrive, from ashes
My all no longer under your lashes.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 5:00 PM UTC
How had he found himself in this dungeon
a knight thrown in here.
Sent by his king on his first secret mission
true he was dressed as a peasant.
Harshly he'd been treated a new experience
but not regretting being sent.
This awful place never inside one before
an eye opener for him.
Here he couldn't stay had to escape
report back to the king.
Noticed a sharp piece of wood at hand
shouting out a demand.
The jailer angrily came to the cell door
he banged on the grill.
In a temper the snarling man entered
within seconds he was dead!
Silently falling on to the dank stone
the knight left alone!
Few humans scurried about in passageways
of the castles lower depths.
Coming upon a sentry post a guard stood
soon his life had expired!
Putting on the uniform he was going home
with a sword he would roam.
Very lax security the knight slowly walked
into the alien countryside.
Luckily not challenged he saw a lone soldier
getting off his horse.
Never feeling the blow now homeward bound
with the information found!
Indeed the Barron was a traitor to his king
the knight an army would bring!
The Foureyed Poet.
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 10:25 PM UTC
Let lore luster lax,
Lingered love leavens.
Let love loop lilac lei lavishly.
Listen lovelorn lilt, laconic liken
Lisping liturgy, limping litany.
Litmus-leaking longing, languor lengthened.
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
In moments of raging to the hospital, the jolts from the road, the squeal of the tires, and the tripping of your feet only multiply your anxiety. Delicacy is suspended amply in the air, hanging daintily on the thread of life and death.
Delicacy is the soft and inconsistent beeping from the cardiac monitor. It controls your thoughts; yet is only a shadow on your radar. It shares the rhythm of the pounding in your head, and the thumping in your chest. You strain to shut everything out, leaving only the shy quiver of breathe slithering out from their lax lips. Their lips tremor under the reign of some foreign enemy, and their eyes flutter from an unseen truth. It is the suffering you wish to unburden them from, the pain you would inflict upon yourself in return for both their lives intact.
Delicacy is a light fragrance, a mixture of disinfectant and sweat. Is it the scent of creating a life, or the imminent end of it? Beads of perspiration stream down your face and sting your eyes.
The sweet caress of silk treads faintly underneath your fingertips. You rub the back of her hand, clammy and fragile. Rubbing the skin, you forget who the comfort is more for while footsteps pierce the stillness in the air. A figure dawned in white appears before you. Their form blurs in and out of focus, their voice a toneless muddle seeping through your cloud of stupor.
Delicacy is a whisper flashing goosebumps across your skin, "We can only save one of them." It is the realization that too much pressure, and two months premature, is a cocktail dyed with poison. She looks to you with eyes of understanding and acceptance.
Delicacy is the collapsing of all you know. It is the berating of incoherent words tumbling from your lips for the pure sake of escaping. You're swiftly taken from the room, kicking and screaming to the hallway.
The unsettling tick of the clock mocks your every fiber. You **** the void of silence with the tapping of your foot, taming yourself from barging your way into the room. With the screaming from the bed, the instinct of protection, the stiffening of your back, the nurse quickly ushers you back in.
The soft and consistent rising of the baby's chest is surrounded with the light fragrance of life. The plush fibers of the yellow blanket tug on the skin of your fingertips. The fascination apparent in your eyes, look to her while wondering how this little body will have the biggest impact on your life. Delicacy is the soft whisper flashing goosebumps across your skin, "We made it."
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
In a nowhere flat, wishing nothing - ‘cept release
Release from mind - release from nothing -
Everywhere release, in nowhere fashion -
Lame tame nobodies doing nothing all the time
Lax time in tame eyes - everybody is hypnotized -
From above, the name of God - and cross nothing -
Everybody is hypnotized, with screens - glasses
Brought forth from nowhere, in nowhere time
Time time, lame time speaking sinful prayer
Asking for nothing, not revenge, not salvation,
Not a thing that nowhere nothing could bring in mirrors
Everybody is hypnotized and words are useless to use
When in time for becoming mirror - because everybody
is hypnotized - clouded eyes - got a fear of time, running out
South northerns aching for nobody except birds,
Birds don’t have feelings until they die - because they fly -
They’re not hypnotized like Man, or slaves like legs -
They’re bound to the sky in subject chance - it’s nothing
It’s nothing - they scatter when winds blow - within time
Within time, without time - inside nothing nowhere,
In a nowhere flat, sad without sadness and searching for nothing
Nowhere time anyhow - everywhere - it’s nothing
Time is nothing - and everybody is hypnotized
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 6:44 PM UTC
Rolling down the road, in a sunset town
A pop from the tailpipe and a rumbling sound.
Never before have you seen the town like this.
Friendly faces, children running. Bliss.
A sweet voice, humming over the airwaves
Sultry and definite, like the end of this day.
It's stampeding to a hault, to an end of days.
It should have always ended this way.
The raccoon, his days of mischieve cut short,
Forever stagnant and flat on the black.
No one will build him his tomb, an animal mosoluem, no funeral fort.
What will happen when I die, what will be lax?
We all stride to and fro,
Oscillatory on this wavelength God-given.
What happens when we finally go,
When our own life is not living?
Men may say that life is long for fear of the afterworld,
For that untrodded territory in which we know not of
But I say that life is too fleeting,
For the fish which swim, the birds above.
What is life, when put to music?
Can you hear it better when the melodies mix?
Is the world more rustic?
Are we fools to its tricks?
Sunset falling on faces of a sprawl,
One day over, one to end them all.
I feel an ocean rushing over me
I find myself floating at sea
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 9:15 PM UTC
Our planets spin in revolutions only
science can explain;
like how meteorologists are magicians
when it comes to describing the rain,
or the way conductors know at which
platform, and at what time, your train will arrive,
or how doctors can look you up and down
and pin point, with accuracy, where you’re in pain,
like a miller creating silk wholemeal flour
from coarse capsules of beige and brown grain,
or like experienced pilots landing again
in LAX after 7 hours in the same seat in the same plane,
or how writers can sit down at keys
and make them dance into Steinbeck, Hemingway or the holy Mark Twain.
Last night you escaped early because the girl
you wanted to leave with left moments
before you did; and now you’ll be back
in bed checking if your horoscopes match
and if your love compatibility is worthy of a
‘I’m in love’ badge.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 12:14 PM UTC
Like lions licking lacerations
Limp-lipped, lucid lamentation
Loyalties lax, love's liquidation
Lapping lust's lye lemonade
Like lemmings, leaping liberation
Loose-limbed, lurid lachrymation
Learning love's lone limitation
Life: liars lie, lovers lay
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 7:44 PM UTC
Set in stone, carved in fire
my mind was forged.
Resilient and strong too,
my thoughts are disgorged
and then set in glue.
An orb of knowledge is created
with its own imperfections.
As my own mind, incomplete,
provides its own reflections
about kinetic theory of heat.
It searches for more information
and more cultural cognition.
A permanent quest for exact facts,
an eternal run for completion,
trying not to keep the mind lax.
Then it realizes there is no end
for this life long pursuit.
The orb is broken and shattered,
fragments swallowed smooth.
Once again confused, scattered.
Unconditional elaboration
of the endless mind works.
The possible emancipation
of the free mind that lurks
away from the severed reality.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 3:27 PM UTC
The pen is mightier than the sword
All this ******
Know what’s true, but hide the point of view
Take it back to the blues
Rhythm had a crew
Read my track
See the sheets flowing
Sorry to be rude
I know a cant control it
But the beats kept going
Take it slow on the remix
Ch’ing cheng moneys flowing
Pouring out its money
See this ****** cry and moaning
Freestyle is my life line
Poetry is my fun stuff
Sipping on some good wine
3 bars on the number line
Relax,
I know I’m going fast
(Gonna take it slow)
Chi lax,
I know I’m fast
(Gonna take a rest)
For the best
Lending on the rappers nest
This is just a test
Hope I beat the rest
(on another rhyme) HELL YEAH!!
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 11:57 AM UTC
Today was a good day
it was a good day today
Everygood came my way
No regrets no way
A good day it was
Better than worse
Im happy ofcourse
no fuss all is lax
Thank God for a good day
godly aid kept evil at bay
I got pay none was coy
Thats why I say
It was a good day
Easy as a pie
Is the way
We draw nigh to our end
In the end its hapiness
So forget the worriness
Pockets may be moneyless take it easy
Ive scaled myself to weigh
lighter than my sorrows
So I can fly away
To find a better tomorrow
Yay
This is the joy
Today was a good day
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 4:00 PM UTC
Car rides, blowing smoke, ignorance is bliss, so is smoking dope.
Keep watch, tuck below. Take a **** you said you'd be right back and i'm still holding this **** in since we last spoke.
City lights, plane flights. Breathe some air, keep chill.
Take a chill pill just relax, keep still here's some lax.
This town overdosed, kids missing found dead. Vision blurry, getting red.
Pay attention to the Feds.
Their just fiends, they're not your friends.
This life I know
This life I was drug into
Gotta watch yourself, gotta watch your back.
They do it for the high, they do it for the cash.
Quick to getting your cards stolen for a free stash.
Steady steady, think outside the box.
They will yank you, yes they're called the cops.
Take it easy. Do what they say.
Or you'll be in handcuffs, wishing you were praying.
Prison is where the dogs go. Jail is where the ****** go.
Guns in the Trunk, gloves on my hands.
Leave no evidence, I'm not punk.
Those around you, will impact your reputation,
Those around you may impact your temptation.
Bring my bag, bring a change of clothes.
Put these on, you're tagging along.
The faces and cases of all the **** and it's users.
You might run into one while with your folks.
Or you might be running from your family to find a ****
Don't poke, edits aren't good.
Easy to catch a case,
hard to come up on a empty parking space
It will remain forever, never let you free
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 3:14 AM UTC
The trip complete there’s nothing left
Save for the souvineirs.
It was a blast, a welcome rest
I’ll think of it for years.
But here I am at LAX
No dream, no cardigan.
I’ll have to wait a hundred years
Just to lift off again.
Don’t get me wrong the airport’s nice,
The smell is odorless?
The chairs, the chairs, Oh god, the chairs:
The source of my unrest.
I’ll sit and sit and try and sleep
but always: no avail.
The strangers stare, don’t offer help
They watch me as I flail.
The pillow doesn’t offer rest
The armrest pokes me, merciless
My mind white-hot and furious
Just calm down.
Relax your self.
It will all be over soon.
LAYOVER
Denied: my only boon.
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 6:48 PM UTC
I will do my damnedest to save you from harm
and wrap you safely up in lust
you who're only a luckless victim
a poor forsaken damsel in distress
tied to the railway tracks by a villain
in one of those black and white movies
I will arrive in the dramatic nick of time
and I shall be the hero who proves his love
when in return you kick me under the train
I'm really just vain and an incapable slave
so you relent and pull me back from the brink
I'll waste no time in rescuing you
your destiny's under my control
there's nothing you can do
no reason for you to get involved
except in relinquishing your body
yet what you do is to shelve
all my plans for today
I'm relieved you know yourself
I'll be there to deliver you from evil
the forces of love are far too weak
you have too much of it to lose to quibble
my advice is to stay put and not to seek
instead you jump into the moral saddle
urging it on so strong my heart goes meek
I repent and promise not to meddle
I'll take you in my arms and we'll escape
giving you a way out when all seems lost
picking up the pieces of your broken reality
what you need is for me to know what's best
to change you into a looker for me
I'm only glad you passed the test
with that sand I got kicked into my face
something you call leather and lace...
nice work... I secretly have to confess
You'll need me to give you a hand
when your slight frame gets knocked down
my assistance in perspective is what you need
the weights of love too great to be borne
I'd hate for yours to fatten and go to seed
and your strong love will feel no pain
when you yank me limb from limb to the ground
and ****** my salvation insanely thin
Rest assured I'll rid you of your past
that awful story of unspeakable depravity
it's easy for someone clean to dust
all traces erased of that shocking poverty
and I'll dress you anew as a lady to impress
forging history in return for a few liberties
but you tore my shoddy papers into a mess
a message that I needed you to fix me
what wasn't broken was you - I was
even more impressive love it's true
for you to sort out my lax assumptive ways
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC