Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
van Young Feb 2018
On a quiet night when You have time
I wanna share something with You that’s been on My mind
Luv You up drip drip drop
Luv You up drip drip drop

After a relaxing rub to soothe Your day
I just can’t wait to hear You say
Luv Me up drip drip drop
Luv Me up drip drip drop

Everything that’s good to You
That’s what we’re gonna do
Luv You up drip drip drop
Luv You up drip drip drop

I feel the need to fly thru Your ticks of time
And melt / float into Your warm and fuzzy sublime
I feel the need to lick You from Your head to Your feet
After living love and feeling love and willing luv -
we will have to buy new sheets
Hold me tight
Hold me tight
Hold me tight deep inside - squeeze Me
Taste the flood of luv flowing free

A seven course dinner is not enough
You deserve a luv without the b. s. fluff
Luv You up drip drip drop
Luv You up drip drip drop

Your body’s screaming out My name
The Angels in Heaven will never be the same
Luv You up - Luv You up - Luv You up

You’re so sweet I just hafta - - - -
Let it explode like Mount Shasta - - - -
Let Me drink forever at Your loving cup - - - -
Let Me in, let Me in, wrap Me up - - - -
vanessa fonseca Sep 2014
oh wow, i luv u
normally i’d be eating pizza but i luv u
i luv u too much to eat food
but i dont luv u enough to not think about the food
(which makes me sad)
i luv u so much that i wish i looked like u
because i luv ur looks more than my looks
yesterday my mom bought a lazer pointer for my cat to play with
this morning i used tht lazer pointer
and the cat went wild n chased it up the stairs
the cat is me and the lazer is u
<3
nice
galaxy brown May 2015
head spinnin mind numbin luv
bad choices wrong timing love 
cant think stright sittin apastinly 4 time to awake luv.
to give it all up luv...
but I guess it nt ment to be luv
will u fully returm luv?
reinvate  the unanticipated luv......
I often think these thing while im in between seeing you and luvin u....
r u ture?!
I can b amazing luv
weak in the knees luv
but only if u allow luv my luv our luv
to be luv that is....
Leonard Green Aug 2013
Luv ya sista, my sista
For the crutch I sometimes need

Luv ya sista, my sista
For the advice I fear to heed

Luv ya sista, my sista
For the beacon I found in life

Luv ya sista, my sista
For the cross I bear no strife

Luv ya sista, my sista
For the calm I now know

Luv ya sista, my sista
For in my words I have no foes

“L” is the life seen through your eyez
“U” is the usual way of your disguise
“V” is the vibrancy in your raps
“Y” is the youth of your laugh
“A” is the angelic nature of your persona
“S” is the soul exhibited and I wanna…
“I” is the influence on your herd
“S” is the sense common to your words
“T” is the torment quelled by your caring
“A” is the allure undeniable to your daring.
Dedicated to the many favors of women who try to love us although there are times it may be difficult to do so because we are from Mars...
Gayathri Sarathi Apr 2014
Is there any chances of going back to those days i longed for you...
Mind says dont...
Hearts says please..
Undo my Luv which i had for you...

those lenghty eye lashes
which i loved to touch
wanted to be mine
glittering smile
which i have fallen for

those long rides
where you and me
together felt like WE
holding hands
touching hearts
asking will you be mine forever...

Where are you now
unable to undo my luv for you
people ask if the luv is true
i should holded you

was it my slip from the heart
or your hatred towards me
missing you here
are you missing me?

wanted those squint eyes stares
wanted that smile
wanted that luv
wanted those flying kisses
wanted those hands to hold me

Oil and Water we meant to be
but by fate water is drained out and oil strains remain

Undo my luv which i had for you..
While the person whom i long for are feeling for his first and lost love betrayal
Are you not hidden in me...
loaded with the sins over here where GOD himself will never forgive me...
forget me never for which  i luv forever....
Do you mind if I sit back and observe the process of the lords creation the subject matter is miraculous the beauty is elegant perfect in every scence my baby girl you stole my heart such a thief ain't you, thinking about seductive things we do sinners ain't we, naughty deeds but the intentions is good it serves needs

What pains me is that I have to let go to regrip your sparkling eyes again, got to move fast so quick that I don't miss the chance to clutch you in my arms again, heaven sent such a gift I cried when you was born I ain't even know you back then because, GOD made you for me I picked up your scent, I know from day one you was mine let us age old together bad and boujee like expensive fine wine, my kiss is possessive the beat of your heart is mine let that foreplay tingle down your spine, open wide going deep let me reach your soul ****** our achievement together it ain't *** it's love

I love you girl no *** postion that can top this deposition let me show you its deeper than ***, I'm still into you watch me shift working overtime full time love baby moan out affection go on say the name, our body hum harmony can feel this body heat that steamy love, open wide in deep that creamy love that dreamy love, its deeper than ***, the agony an orgams of how our love make our body shiver, I love you, I love you! I rejoice I could say this a thousand times it's deeper than ***
Help me get this to trending. Wrote this about a special girl
Gayathri Sarathi Feb 2014
Is Love is true and can be felt.....


The day you decided to become mine forever...
leaving all souls caring for you...not bothering about the society...
That made my luv grow stronger towards to you....

Not even an iota of second thought you holded my hand...
Kissed me in head...strenghtened me and said worry not "Im there for you, will face together"
That made my luv grow...stronger again towards you...

Love which was seen in cards and flowers and gifts was seen in veracity thru you....
You proved im worth your love.....made me to think that you are Man of my dreams...
You made me to listen my heart beat ...
Stood against all, faced the truth...
won my luv....giving colors to my life....

Those blues and white colors reminds me of you....
those kisses shared inbetween the fights....
those luving calls which says I luv you.....
being in same room...
Your smile....which always reminds me of happiness what i received and gave to you...

Now where is that happiness gone....
Im pushed far away from you...dont know where im ......
What im doing....cannot hear those heart beats....
it is all pain n sufferings which i can see..n hear
where are you gone ....
Luv is so painful....
which made me to forget all happy moments...which i had....

All that you gave are taken by you.....except loneliness....
you always remain in my heart....even you have gone away from me....
I dont know how you are....
but still luv n thoughts clings inside in my heart ......

Happy Moments where are you??????.....lost in memories....


Yes luv is left(changes which occured by the word "L" taking first place in word)
JK Cabresos Jul 2013
Lights off, ma bad-*** homies are juz drank,
buh then I saw ya dancing in da club.
Ma head was blown, let's kick it!
Cuz ya could be ma tight moll,
o' let's juz put a bullet
on the clock in these tight walls.

If I'm wit ya,
ma heart could fly so high like a G6,
Imma be glad if ya be mine
tho I ain't da niftiest sheik.
And if loving ya could take ma life
to da street, cuz of a set trippin,
then ya could be a flower
on ma Chicago Overcoat on ma big sleep.

Miss me wit dat! Ma bad,
buh I ain't gonna take ma words back,
I ain't no good, buh Imma gangsta poet
juz a poet wit rhyming words as AK,
so Imma put sum shizzle down
and write what it means.

To me love is gangsta, family is gangsta,
loyal is gangsta, if that's not gangsta,
I don't wanna be gangsta.

O' ma sheba, wazzup!
Let's show 'em what is real luv.
Then luv me less, until ya luv me more
and let's live as gangsta poets
in this gangsta world.
I'm trying to be a Gangsta Poet. It's really hard though. I'm trying, trying trying. My friend, jerelii told me to make some of this poem in response to hers. Well, Chuck started this and I don't know if he would like this one. I don't know how to be this so-called gangsta. This is just a poem, to the rappers out there, I wrote this just for fun.
jeffrey robin Aug 2010
i guv me luv a cherry ****
she said to me
"how sweet ya art'
i said "ye know
i love ya so"

SUCH A STORY!
FIT FOR REALITY ..TEE VEE!

i say ........
but then a camera man
stuck is **** into the parth
of a sense of...sincerity

COME....WE'LL ****
RAG-HEADED
MOSQUE-ITITES

and keep all da poets
happy!

happy !!
sappy!!!!!!!!!

happy!
---

an den real luv

( oh shut it up!
real luv dont sell
janet jackson's boobererinies!!!!)

an if n you was a real man

ye'll be dead by
sunday!!!
------
-----

i guv me luv a cherry ****
she said to me
"how sweet ya art'
i said "ye know
i love ya so"
King Tutankhamun Nov 2016
yea i got young honeys
that sell me drug money
aint nothin funny
******* like Gunny
boys intervene leave they necks runny
it dont matter the time crime
down for mine everytime
i pull the nine flat line
or machete
chop ya up like spaghetti
thwy wasnt ready
for yosef coming most of
rhe lyric so funky foggy
ya clear it periods
they cab see me drug slangin
mute those who lippin
tippin on my qs in case of set trippin
load them clips in
call a few of my partners
or disciples in
after couple shots of hen and gin
we put an end to sin and then
theyll remeber
the yosef cold as the december
month pull stunts
stay skunked and drunked
almost dunk
my mind into a pit of hell
my story neva fails
if ya crosss ill still prevail
living well
lookin for ghost to
come out they shell
ya cant bail im on ya trail
sell yeyo
cuz be fienin for yummy
crummy
for the love of that moneyyy!!!!


Foe the luv of them greens
**** and money
Got me chasin fantasies
I'm stuck in a daisy never me lazy crazy
As can be put yo chips my chips in
An nd together we could be rippin
Up mics smokin em like pipes
My yearn for these dead presidents
Might cost ya life and you'll be
Living with dead resident never hesitant
To make moves to show and prove
And you know who?
Be coming with 64s top low
Haters stay low or embrace the halo
Luv the smell of yeyo
To my nose takin major blows
Quick dose of reality my locality
Be in the pits of hell o well
Take a trip wirh me as I sail
Through ocean of money
So fools don't think it's funny
I'm coming up quick with them knots
Sells from fat rocks
Cuz I Be itching for the luv of the moneyyyyyyy
Joseph Childress May 2014
And she said…

I luv you,
?
Where’s the

O-v-e-

R
we truly
Over?

Or just yet
To begin?

Well, *** u

It’s convenient
To shorten words
To speed the converse
But love
Should be handled
With delicacy
You’re lack of concern
Brought
“I luv u 2”
In return
You’re more mathematical
Than poetical
And I accept our difference
But your indifference
Once I brought it
To your attention
Is well worth
The “*** you” aforementioned
Natalia mushara Jul 2015
Kneeds prayer
For ma dear friend
He jus disappeared don know where he been
He meens alot to many
But he been hurt real bad
Bye wone who kouldnt preciate him
But one will in the end
Ma friends a  truu king
A king not a child's.
He drive manee women crazies.
As only one drives him wilds.
Though the one he luvs
As othas can see don't luv him bak!
If he kould only see
He has a tuns of women who got his bak.
If only he kould see
So many will givee him
What he truly deserves.
Though he luves her
Get me enrage...
Tho he luv her
Every women wants him to stay.
Tho he luv her
She Kant even see him.
He luv her
She don wan him
He love her
Yet I'm starting to reelize
I want him so bad
My boyfriend and I just friends now
Since my boyfriend just wanted friend!
But its OK bekause,
I want another
Who don want me back.....
He luv her
Mad chicka enraged
I think I'll cry lonaly,
Sleep-in a cave
But see agin
I want him!
He don know.
Or wantee me at all.
He loves her.
His queen in his kingdom ball.
But I want him
Jealous? Am I????
**** yea!
But I kan be betta,
I kan be bad.
Ta a guy I wants bad me an my boyfriend are on brake bekeause he want friendsz wit me but me and ma bf friends anyways. But **** is I want someone else who luvs a girl who don even know luv and don even luv him. She like oder guys. But I wuld knever to that to king iwant . /: hate feelinga hate wanting king Kant have kus he loves sum chicka who don give no luv to him. I jus don know no mo. If he kome back on hellopotry he wuld see dis and kno who fo, but he love her make me hert
Natalia mushara Jul 2015
I want him
He luvs her
She don luv him tho,,
But he luv his mi amour
But I kan be his mour
If he wuld ever talk to me
Maby he read this
If he get back on HP
I kuld be betta
I'd give this all
I Maby some rich chika
But for him wuld give it all
But he luv her
Bekause he blind
To go afta one
Who don give him her time



Yup yuo got so manee who want yuo boy
And yup yuo love girl who don love yuo bak
Yuo kno if Eva want me which yuo don't kus yuo loves her
Yuo kould always have me but Kant have one who don't luv or want me kus yuo luv her /:
/: **** wanting one Kant have who luvs her not me
He blind I gues. Chickas gets me angered
Bartholomew Oct 2018
2 all tha women I luv’d b4, am I destined 2 be lonely?
I loved each of y’all differently but whole heartily thinking that each of you were my one and only.

2 all tha women I luv’d before, do you miss me? Do you ever still think about us?
All the times we shared, our possible future or even how I’m doing at this moment without ur love.

2 all the women I luv’d before, do you forgive me for my mistakes or do you still hate me to your core?
Though I was in love with ur flaws no ones perfect, there’s alwayz 2 sides to every coin.

To all the women I luv’d before, I wish y’all nothing but prosperity, happiness and all.
And I pray and hope that you find a love that we once called ours

To all the women I loved before, thank you for molding me for my future wife that I still haven’t met.
For she will be the last women I give my heart to, until my daughter breaths her first breath.
Inspiration:
Y’all know who y’all are; I hope....
Trenton Hartford Feb 2015
Goodnight pumpkin, I luv you. L-U-V U.
Dear mom,
Nothing ****** me off more than misspelling the word Love.
If you’re not willing to put two seconds into a text or even a letter
to spell it correctly, then you need a ******* dictionary.
The only time you looked into a dictionary was to find words big enough so they could fit through ears but not into my brain making it easier for lies to flow out of your mouth like it is second nature.
The only truth that ever spit out of your mouth like lemon juice, was when you told us, not all lives have happy endings.
But when you were still here, and I was only eight,
you let me watch disney movies so I could learn my own fate.
One of the movies taught me that if I said Ohana means family,
that you’d respond with,
family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten
But you left your kids to pursue Your happiness,
Now every time you leave to Pennsylvania another memory of us flies away from the airport you call a body just like the planes you get on,
Your lies create a tornado that destroys everything in it’s path,
and my life is a flat ground so this spiral of emotions won’t stop until you do.
You circled your yin-yang arms around me for the first time in the hospital, that was the same night people in white coats handed you a certificate with my name written on it, Now anytime my name is brought up in a subject you pull your hoodie over your head as a sign of embarrassment.
I want you to feel the pain you have been giving me for the last 2
years when you hear this poem.

I want you to realize that you’re the reason my feelings are
scribbled down to make a mess out on paper.

Every night I make a new river with my tears and when I realize you are
lying to me, it makes waves of depression
and those waves, are created by earthquakes of anger.
These waves are strong enough to break through any hoover dam
made up of antidepressants and pills that will only make me what
you want me to be which is “normal”?
If you tell someone you love them at least have the audacity to
mean it.
Be a the definition of a mom and care about us and our
feelings, and not just your own.
Mom, I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U
Ohana means Family, but no one said family would last forever. But
you always will last forever, in my heart
A poem About my mom
jeffrey robin Sep 2015
""


Ya ! Ya !

I vant  luv !!!!

""

Gimme !

Gimme !

Yer  luv !

(;;;)

save me from myself !

Holden onta me hand  !

Graben me my booberoonies !

Gooooood !

::

We be fer sure tagether  fer etoinity !

You n me baby !

Ya ! Ya !

••

I be a fallin fer ya !

//

So trilling !!!

YA !

We do

Fuckie - Fuckie !!



We be luv !
A-S Feb 2014
Miss u
Luv u
Happy 2 b ur gf

I miss you,
I love you,
I am happy to be your girlfriend.

Everything you say,
Say it differently
Make changes,
Live hapily.
Say it like you mean it.
Blakbuttafly89 Dec 2018
IT TOOK EVERYTHING IN ME NOT TO LOOK FOR HIM IN PLACES AND PEOPLE
IT TOOK EVERYTHING FOR ME NOT TO CARE
SO THAT I MAY LOWER MY GAZE
TO WHAT HAD ALWAYS BEEN RIGHT THERE.

HE OPENED AND LEFT ME HURT SO YOU SHOWED ME JUST HOW LITTLE MY FLAWS WERE
I KNOW YOU LOVE ME
I CAN TELL BY THE WAY YOU OFTEN STARE
U LOOK AT ME LIKE IM THE ONLY QUEEN IN THE ROOM
EVEN THOUGH IT’S PLENTY STANDING AROUND HERE AND THERE

I WAS SCARED AT FIRST SO I WAITED… AND WAITED
NOW HERE I AM STANDING COMPLETELY NAKED
MELANIN BROWN CHOCOLATE DRIPPED TO THE FLOOR
PROMISING TO LEAVE YOUR HEART MIND BODY AND SOUL THIRSTY FOR MORE

WE MAKE LOVE ANY AND EVERYWHERE
LIGHTNING AND SPARK ALL TYPES OF FIRES
AIMING TO PLEASE ME IS YOUR ONLY DESIRE
MINE IS TO LET YOU KNOW IN EVERY WAY THAT IS
ONLY YOU WHO I HIGHLY ADMIRE.

I WAS SCARED TO BE THE FIRST SO I WAITED… AND WAITED
YOU SAID IT LAST NIGHT AND MY HEART MELTED
I LOVE YOU TOOO!!!

P.S. HE SAID THAT HE GIVES THANKS TO ALL THE MEN WHO HAVE LOST ME TOO THEIR OWN INSECURITIES. HE KISSED A WAY ALL MY FEARS AND GAVE ME MORE THAN A TASTE OF HIS LOVE SO THAT I COULD TELL IT WAS REAL…
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
.i. if Kant could have his von Kleist... well... who else to juggle juggernauts if not me? as a task of redeeming that poor soul who succumbed to the terminator of all poetic ambitions, with his systematisation off-the-page, as eccentric and punctual as a sunset on a sundial at 16:11... and in case either the spring of sunrise, or the autumn of sunset... but so many hours after exacting a sunset... that gluttony of the eyes to stare at it... 16:11 is the zenith of a sunset in november the 15th... much prolonged when warmer... supersized sun when setting in summer, and all that whiskey-copper wiring for the eyes to stare at it: oh for goodness sake, who really cares for Ikea likened assembling of words... we're not putting together a coffee table, we're looking for Darwinistic entrapment, we're scared of the aeons and yawns... we're trying to create a Darwinistic entrapment saying what segregates us from apes! that's how anti-Darwinism works - if they can easily call you a poet and a technophobe... then that hardly makes you a merchant with a Quran... to encapsulate the language of our modernity we're doing everything against writing the onomatopoeia of our beginning... monkey ooo! monkey ooo ah ah! or a gorilla grunting and then snorkeling... we're encapsulating our language more and more... because beginning with ape and then looking at history, and then looking at the consensus of the contemporary: Darwinism's greatest enemy is not theology... it's history... Darwinism and history are not compatible... oddly enough Darwinism and theology are compatible, simply because they are dynamically equal for the case of furthering both arguments in debate... but Darwinism is an odd starting point to argue, given that physicists argue from the perspective of prior to dinosaurs, prior to all things formed.

how can i begin this? it will leave me having to
write it for two days,
the anti-narrative sketch first, then filling in
the gaps sober... just to get second opinions...
i might have to cook a quasi-Hungarian borscht
and fry up a few potato flattenings to a crispy
yum... first the narrator comes in to describe what's
in store, a bit like a translator comes in and says
of Joyce: that's Irish... well, yeah.
               hence the italic preface...
as some would say, the person who wrote these
sketches worked quicker that an algorithm in asking
and also quicker to copy & paste the required
atomic encoding... e.g. ч and ch
                   э and euro and epsilon...
      once upon a time there was nothing prior
to Copernicus, then the somersaults came,
    h ч y        what coordinates where?
    well of course perfecting the encoding of something,
if things weren't stated awry there would be
no optometrists either...
                  it's not hard to read, it's hard to
remember how to read, given that being literate reached
the omnipresent velocity, the new powers had to
include some new power struggle...
mingling Latin and Runes, Greek and Cyrillic...
     and the proto-Latin of additional diacritical marks...
they exposed the entirety of humanity to literacy
within the framework of post-industrial society,
after hitchhiking a ride on the 19th century donkeys
they suddenly had to reveal their power-secret of
being literate, and by the account of women:
corset bound and bored in salons...
      but something else appeared that didn't really fascinate
them: that over-complication of Latin with
punctuation marks above letters: or diacritical
distinction, crowns over letters, subatomic particularisation
of once favoured: universal applicability...
as a narrator? i have to make a complicated
introduction, the sketch lends itself to do so,
it suggests that not all writing can be as simple as
a nursery rhyme, not all writing can actually
    **** memory, not all writing desires being remembered,
not all writing can be remembered,
                in the mediation of the two chiral opposites
there's fiction, which is suspended in an armchair of
pleasurability... but on the opposite side of a nursery rhyme
or a well versed poem? writing akin to arithmetic...
  something truly painful for those competent with
lettering, but not really competent with ten digits...
      as a narrator who has already read the sketch,
i'm trying to not write a "filling in the gaps" to the sketch
like an art-critic might do to a painting deviating from:
brushstrokes were employed. well... d'uh!
variation of italics as in transcending the pause that
implies a condescending variation of taking a pause,
also excluded are: dot, comma, hyphen, semicolon
and colon.                         dot-dot-dot is not joining up
the dots: it implies a variation of how to anticipate
a punchline: drummed: tu-dum wet snare!
     i am actually a narrator who is trying to find
that other part of me that might digest this sketch properly,
     and return fully competent to pick up another
sketch... if ever there was a narrator in this sketch,
it has to be me, after the sketch has been scripted,
and i am left to suggest a need for a dot-dot-dot connectivity
of the strokes of the pen...
i warned myself: do not overdo the introduction in italics,
you know how picky people are...
whether pickled pineapple of cucumber...
i swear Turks invented pickling chillies...
         oh look! an inflatable gazebo filled with helium!
no one's laughing: only because i didn't mention vegina.
narrative puritanism? you get distracted a lot...
but this sketch is really a thesis for narration,
all i have to do is find the antithesis of narration in it:
an actual narrative!          it stretches for ~30 pages...
   well that's me turned archaeologist with a Grecian urn
with a snap of the finger... because that's how this
sketch looks like: ancient -
                         but understandably modern.
              so .  ,  - and ;
        were racing... out came the world record
             9.58(0)         the full-stop is the bracket-bound
0... i.e. it actually happened: hence the pinpoint...
or in Formula 1 a timed nonsense of ave. m/ph
     noted to three decimal points: 130.703...
                                    or chicane cha chicane cha cha!
as said, this is an actual representation of a narrator
encountering this sketch: so before you lose your head...
i've lost mine!
  look at the correlation though!
we've gone way past atoms with the atomic bomb
and encountered subatomic particles...
    we're not going to get beyond subatomic particles
because we're going to encounter the already apparent
reality of obatomic particle: namely our bodies,
   the perceived ******* (ob- is the antonym
                                                  prefixation of sub-):
             that's were the microscope adventure ends,
    and this is parallel to cutting up a second with
three decimal points, as the safetynet suggests:
                                                              π / 3.14;
yep, the obstructive - hence we can't spontaneously
combust... but then again Goethe's Werther did:
  out of love... down the spiral: you sweet little *******.

~ii. i'm actually too lazy to write the sketch and fill
in the blanks... so i'm going to fill in the blanks as i go along,
  or that's what's called the rebellious stance of narrator: mmm,
work in progress, could you see that coming?


ii. a beer in between glugs of whiskey - runes
combined in the ******* / sigma, variant of agliz or
the rune-zeta extended toward a dark shadow of the rebirth
of Ishrael: zoological enclosure; sigma *******
sigma ******* sigma *******, sigma *******...
rune-zeta... we cannot say there are ******
mathematicians and poets akin,
not then one optic encoding states
     a b c d e
         another states f u þ a r
yet another а б (ρ) в г
  α β γ δ:
for worth of gamma into a trill only because of
   a wave, that's ~ approx. on the side of the letter
   e.g. г & r.
   or rho upside down? what the ****?
did Voltaire write this? reading Candide,
i hope he ****** did!
you the problem is pixelated paper? if you know
how you enter a deciphering mode...
                    but you require a personal library to boot,
all that dos formatting,
                       well there's formatting in the humanity
outstretch of this white medium too...
after it isn't all ******* white when all the psychiatric
pills are white too... i have really found something better
than the Bermuda Δ...
       Greek, Latin, Cyrillic and Runes...
i could say neo or proto otherwise,
but i still haven't unearthed the sketch, that
is probably puzzling the Danes, with Cnut on the forefront...
                    but the arrangement of numbers is universal,
but it's not universal, given the particularity of
how language is encoded and why some people are
richer than others...
            but it's still a beer between glugs of whiskey that
makes more sense...
i said, retype the sketch and go to bed...
and i figured: that's probably the wisest of all possible
events stemming from this...
    that's ~27 pages of notes to retype... and i'm already
in a disclosure mode as to expect what's to be jargoned...


p. 1        cкεтч       /      σкεтχ
   necessity of                        (acute
a-       -the           (ism)
is that of language structure,
          only from the use of one's language does
a deity present itself: from within the noumenon
ground work, not the reverse, as in from
(pp. 2, 3)
                 a phenomenological exercise in
the use of language: Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, (etc.)...
       e.g. Islam is a phenomenon,
  it's not a noumenon: or a thing-in-itself...
  for the Islamic god to emerge from Islam's-in-itself
Islam will have to prevent itself from being-outside-itself...
or overpowering other in-itself contentions
but still: to no apparent success narrative of true intention
as satisfactory appropriation and hence lending itself
to a widespread nod of approval.
  challenging space: word compounding, or the space
between conjunctional deficiencies: nod-of-approval (e.g.).

p. 2    concussion (great film, Alec and Will, 2015, NFL)
concussion... Blitzkrieg Alzheimer's....
brain is fat.... dementia = attacking proteins...
  steroids... the noumenological use of language:
e.g. that ****** is an enigma,
therefore his views will not go viral,
and he'll not become fashion trendy...
it's not individualistic idealism, it's reality.
as will die sonne satan - orbis reach more than 5K
views... so... clap clap... clap, clap.
           what i meant about the a-     and -the
and the ism is following a sentence that sort of
does away with conjunctional fluidity,
apart from the big words, i treat all minor words as
categorically conunctional... and, the, a, is, to, too...
given the sentence: brain fatty *****,
brian organic giraffe wall... ******* hieroglyphic...
           stood above the rest, rest assured.
  dementia: invading protein cells
   (bulging prune of the opportune: purely
digestion?) no thought to eat or eat itself like,
cannibalistically. the brain is fatty...
not fat in muscle for mmm, schmile and flex
for the selfie. how about a protein inhibitor?
(by now, rewriting the sketch, i've lost the page count,
it's actually p. 5 of note paged toward 27).
how about the explanation that we're living in
times of post-industrialisation and thanksgiving
feminism? to me post-industrialisation has created
a class of meaningless white-collar workers
and no blues... it's what the Chinese blues call
the Amazonian nomads: ******* happy...
no amount of crosswords or sudoku will exert
your body to do things for others...
   no amount of mind games will actually tell your
brain to be equipped with: a bunch of hyenas... run!
dementia is a result of creating too many
white-collar jobs (thanks to feminism)
and exporting the blues to China (thanks to feminism
and: oh i broke a nail, can i get a Ching plumber to
fix my heating while i get a ****** to **** me up my
****?!) - maybe i'm just dreaming...
it's great to censor dreaming, i mean: you stop dreaming,
you get to see reality, and you don't even need to
read Proust on a ricochet.
  - so we have brain as fat, and invader cells as protein...
protein digests fat... and creates cucumbers out
of people... where do the carbohydrates come into play?
it can't be at the point of a.d.h.d., can it?
     i'm blaming post-industrialisation, the complete
disappearance of the blues (formerly known as the reds,
in the east) for the whites...
or that old chestnut of: my god you're goon'ah luv it!
   to till for worth from the sweat of yer brow -
funny funny funny... to earn your loaf of bread
you will toil...
                   and toil until you are physically assured
that not ghostly / mental life can enter your world /
books... that went well... didn't it?
   i should be tilling a potato plateau rather than
be bound to be writing this epic (by modern standards)
poem...
             but that's the curse of exporting all the blue
collar jobs to China, then importing mindless
white collar jobs to the west, what the hell do you think
would happen, not the pandemic of dementia?
if you do not exert the body, and then you do not
exert / exhaust the mind... do you think
you can secure a narrative with a post-industrial
westerner on the premise of that person simply being
able to solve a crossword? well... i believe in santa
claus too... but i don't believe in him giving out
presents... because to me, in my oh-so-called maturity
that's called an anagram of satan's clause: which is a legal
term for: i can turn civilisation into shrapnel
of what's said and what's to be said: and what's not to be
said. people can't expect to turn honest labour
for the recreational run on the treadmill in a gym...
and they can't expect photocopying in an office space
to replace Newton's curiosity, and then compensate
all this distraction with mind-games...
          can they? well... they did!

poets are gagged by writers of prose,
no wonder they write so sparingly,
      they are gagged in the sense that they write
as if asphyxiated: they need breathing room.


well sure, if he can revive the Polish steel industry
and i can go back to steel plates and pillars,
then the rust belt will get a polishing also.

or what's called: shrapnel before the waterfall of
narration: darting eyes, and poncy **** all the way through...

     muse... muse...

        well, how about we take the fluidity out of language?
declassify certain words into one grammatical broth,
say words like i and they
                              a  and the    are all conjunctions?
how about that? let's strip it bare, after all: what categories
of words exist for us to primarily speak (let alone think)?
     nouns, verbs, adjectives... adverbs?
       but all those words in between are so jungly classified
into a tangle that i'm about to sprout a handshake
          of a Japanese vine grip: and never let go...

an actual extract from the sketch:

      https that doesn't recognise UCS
                   and insists on IPA cannot be deemed
       encyclopaedic


              i need runes for this! i need runes for this idea!
i don't need transliteration right now...
                but hey! that's an idea, etymological transliteration...
bugly term, sure, but the previous night i was thinking
  of transcendental etymology, as you do, likened to
carbohydrates... so it was transliteration after all...
but a dead end when it comes to geometry and Pythagoras...
      
    three words... and they are computerised (i guess you
have to buy a decent book to decode this), a bit like
buying paint in a d.i.y. shop...
       16DE (dagaz / d) 16DC (ingwaz / ŋ / grapheme of n & j)
                  16DF (ōþala / Valhalla / o / ō = oo),
in total d'njoo / d'nyoo - even i concede the fact that this
is a ******* mind-******... it's a ****** congregation of
four optic encodings of phonos... i moved away from
the ancient greek fetish for the logos... i'm looking at
the phonos... not the logos with Heraclitus et al.
               φº θ þ фª f

ªgreek
  ºcyrillic                ever see a prettier pentagram?
                      i haven't.

(false original title:
škic / cкэтч / φº θ þ фª f: thespian pandemic - pending)

looking at the phonos is painful, actually painful,
it's like reading a book with a myopic pair of glasses:
a ******* aquarium blurry right there, befor...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

'e'? were you: was i, looking for an 'e'?

i can say this much...
what do you get when you mix a shot
of whiskey with a shot of bourbon:
i'm moving between bottles...
it's nearing christmas eve and i'm a ripe
taoist... i.e. i better this world:
by not having the world mind me...
on the odd occasion: oh... you're still here?!

yeah... i'm still here... i have glued-to-fascination
with my shadow... i'm just waiting
for the atom bomb to relieve me of a body
but ensuring my shadow is kept intact...
as if it were a Monet signature on a wall...

but i lament... the momentum has vanished...
i don't even know why i'm so idiotic as
to presume that: from the hour 22:00GMT
to the hours 00:00 circa 00:30GMT...
something will land into my lap,
my lisp... my cranium the oyster shell
my tongue the oyster...

it will not... i can't simply **** anything into
an existence that doesn't want to exist...
perhaps lurking in a canvas of:
"lost luggage" in an airport...
perhaps "there"...
i could be excused my... lethargy...

when was this written? back in 2018?
so i was thinking about teasing cyrillic even then?
wasn't i?
sketch cкэтч or?

what do you get when you mix a shot of whiskey
with some bourbon?
a Burguandian whisker...
i am not going to sound witty...
Ron's key...

that's still a cyrillic "or"... isn't it?
шкиц: škic...

i'm... deflated... nothing "new" has come my way...
i would have thought that...
reading some Knausgård would have /
could have... invigorated me:
reading him was supposed to be my:
dialysis my transfusion!
my zombie-go-to-literature...
it has proven an exhaustive enterprise
to begin writing again:
i became too comfortable
in reading - i almost forgot
the agony of writing...

alas... a contemporary of mine...
and someone well adjusted to prose...

notably: who would have thought
that death in june - the calling (MK II)
was something to be recorded in 1985...
for one: i wouldn't...

but i did begin: back in november 2016...
begin what? to tickle the cyrillic alphabet...
which is way before i discovered my reply
to the runes... to the ancient greek...
and this... "ancient", ahem... still in use...
latin script...

that script that went into the molloch couldron
of being invested in to code...
pristine as the hebrews cited:
how many holes in it?
to write onto a canvas of 0?
q Q R O o p P A a D d g b B...
which leaves...
W E T Y U I S F H J K L
Z X C V N and M "out of the equation"...

škic / cкэтч / φº θ þ фª f: thespian pandemic (pending):
i better rename it as... circa 2016...
that's way before i even acknowledged
the cyrillic text applying diacritical markers...
i thought them too crude at the time...

beside borrowing outright from greek...
the already at hand oddities of glagolitic,
notably: Ⱎ...Ⱋ...

it's only a single word i'm using...
i have abandoned all notions of metaphysics
in favor for orthography...
i'm not going to burden myself
with: what's after the physics...
i'm after: what's now...
in the respective tongues...
2 tongue deviations from
the original latin and greek...

what came with the runes and what
came with the glagolitic scripts...
what was ****** and had to succumb
to inter-breeding...

come 2020... i will have one clarification
to base my existence on...
pronouncing the growth of my ****** hair...
i will hope to aim at a length of beard
that will forever hide the neck...
i will aim at... somewhere to the level
of my heart... when i will then manage
to turn my beard into an orchestra's
nieche of violins when i procrastinate with it...

since 2016...
i have identified russian in ******...
i've seen it... finally!
зъaрт... i.e. żart
and the "hard sign" becoming a "soft sign"
in źrenica: зьрeницa...

i still think the russian orthography
is... as... primitive as the western slavic...

after all... зъ = ż...
зь = ź...
the balkan slavs have a caron...
which is neither a hard or a soft sign / acute...

their caron is... ч (č) or cz...
CHeaper in english...
and their caron is ш (š) or sz...
SHeep...
or the two together...
and always шч (šč): szczekam...
i'm barking...

pu-shch-air... a rare example in english
of the puщair...
but then lookie lookie 'ere:

CZACHA... skull...
ЧAХA...

perhaps this is my "revenge ****" on russia?
hey! boris the kremlin mascoot...
come and 'ave a look...
with how i disect your orthography
on the / with the language that asks
too many metaphysical questions and no
orthographic curiosities!

i'll meet you in Warsaw... given that you're
probably moving from Novosibirsk...
and i'm either in Stockholm...
Edinburgh or the outskirts of London:
Warsaw will be halfway for both of us...
you don't have to like Warsaw...
i only like it when the Ukrainian smugglers
and the Mongols appear
in the West Warsaw coach station...

smart as who? i am discovering this for
the first time myself...
i was only teasing it back in 2016...
way before i found the right sort of accents
in mother russian...

i do know that that crescent oddity:
above the ja: йa... is what it is...
if you only cut off the head in english... ȷ...
again: it's я given that most russians
are pulled toward an anglophile world-view...
they all see the window to europe...
the baltic and st. petersburg is somehow...
London... and the atlantic...
like hell it is...

i guess i feel it was a waste of time to
have re(a)d Kant, simply because:
i'm not here for the schematics...
i want to know how my thought my labyrinth
building architecture is coming along...
but with no one to talk to about it?

i found the categorical imperative most
dissatisfying... i didn't want to abide by universal laws...
poetry is already shoved out of waiting room
of the republic...
if my "poetry" is not a categorical imperative...
and it's not quiet a a hypothetical imperative...
it needs to be sharpened on a thesaurus
and some grammar...

categorical (adjective)... imperative (adjective)...
well two adjectives never imply much
if there's no noun involved...
and i'm pretty sure that... if i sharpen
the next word i'll compound with categorical-
in that hyphen construct that's only
allowed in oxford dictionary english:
since it's not: propergermannonhyphenfaustian:
i.e. carboxylic (carbo-xylic) acidity...

poetry doesn't belong in either
the categorical imperative focus...
nor the hypothetical imperative focus...

i.e. i must write a poem... to feel better...
i must write a poem... to organise my thoughts...
no! a poem is not a maxim is not a categorical
imperative! a language of poetry is not
a language of morality: it's a language
of experience - or a lack / a lackey's "sentiment"...

i need a... categorical: impetus!
it's not enough to have read kant's critique of pure
reason... it must also involved
having re(a)d the: groundwork of
the metaphysics of morals...
but i'm a democratic reader...
i need to hear the other voices...
i can't be a kantian scholar...
a snippet 'ere, a snippet v'ere (funny how
THETA disappears when making the posit:
THERE - ver!)

who needs metaphysical absolutes...
when orthography (or a lack of it)
in english... spreads open its legs...
and the tongue remembers its tongue-brain-phallus
stage of co-existence in the oyster?!

i'm pretty sure that a categorical imperative
is by no means a categorical impetus...
this had to be written,
but it had to be written in order to disregard
anything a priori... prior to it...
a poem is a shady concern for action or inaction...
it's a deviation from the cartesian crux:
res cogitans (thinking thing)...
into the cartesian levy (res extensa)...
it's an action of inactivity...
as much as it's an inactive activity...
"the rest"...

impetus is not an imperative...
an impetus sources its meaning in a per se
investement... of itself - in itself - for itself...
an imperative?
in pronouns... impetus: i want... i will...
imperative? you want... you will...

an impetus is self-dictative...
an imperative is: indicative...
someone would rightly claim...
those that mourn indicatively...
will don the right garments for the process
of mourning...
which is indicative and devoid of
the per se manifestation of mourning...
it is an imperative when compared to
the impetus to mourn -
which is self-dictative...
which does now shallow itself in
grief by making a socially agreed to fiasco
of a very specific choice of wardrobe...

basically: however you like it...
an IMPERATIVE ≠ IMPETUS...
the year is almost over and i want to break-off
the dust from the thoughts that fudge-packed themselves
as worthy of occupying the minor instance
of having to count a depth of:
not dead within the year of being written.
ioan pearce Mar 2010
loaded with her weekly shop
outside the doors at asda
***** **** that never let
opportunity go passed her

hello big boy
she stroked his cheek
my bags are heavy
knees are weak

i lift  dumbells
night and day
giss ya shopping
lead the way

i've got an itchy *****
and i've got the horn
do you want to see it?
you **** hunk of brawn

you'll have to show me luv
it's hard for me to see
those ****** japanese cars
look all the same to me
Leonard Green Sep 2013
Intro:
Welcome to the new age of spit’n
to change the flavor of mix’n
where MCs are kick’n provocative rhymes
to stretch the imagination of open minds
no need for weapons, blood, and tumbl’n
we’re gonna educate and stimulate rumbl’n

Spit’n Philosophically Aware Rhymes
for the New millennium, that’s SPAR’N
elevating the level of rap’n hip-hop beats
to achieve new heights, to accomplish new feats
to teach the youth a brand new way of feel’n
to preach in the streets a new way of deal’n

Poet’s Verses:**
I’m a warrior for the new age of spit’n
flatlin’n a verse like F’n-stein to do my bid’n
tired of listen’n to the violence and the ****’n
rather kick a message for tolerance to the liv’n
better to be rich in center than material possessions
’cause fear and greed foster the need for man’s weapons

Don’t have a saint, a preacher, or a teacher’s hand
just a person on edge, trying to survive in this here land
to pass along to others the meaning of liquid wisdom
that can’t be learned in some classroom using ‘isms
so listen up my brothas, listen up my sistas
the words ya hear’n gonna blow ya away like twistas

Each of us is composed of molecules, atoms, magnetic forces
revolving around one another, following predefined courses
at this level, ya couldn’t even tell the difference
yet we judging the casing that gives us false appearance
if ya think intelligence is inherited by yur parents
then a child of the slums and ghettos has no merits

Be a product no longer of sins numbered by seven
take back yur destiny and life by search’n the heavens
for in the cradle of His arms, true luv awaits
if yur will’n to give a commitment of faith
pain and suffering may be the unwanted test
but don’t give up, ’cause ya not alone on this quest

Luv is more than just words, feel’n, and thoughts
and goes beyond ***, roses, and diamonds bought
real luv is a state of mind, a state of being
when yur together or when yur off somewhere leaving
like the spiritual reality shared between Eve and Adam
something only a true heart could really fathom

Everyone on this here planet has some mean’n
with the gospel hav’n so many people feen’n
if ya feel’n alone, lost and discouraged
this verse is my way of giv’n ya courage
for at night, I pray to the Lord yur soul to keep
sincere in the wish for no more pain or causes to weep.
Dedicated to the positive poetic art form of Rap
King Tutankhamun Aug 2015
Im the hardest to Hit
Since Tupac *******
On Killuminati
Somebody pass me the 12 guage shotti
Now feel these slugs hit yo body
Enemies bleed indeed love for greed
Feeds a ***** soul
Since theres no rest for the wickedness
Evilness is an imperative of mankind
Pack a chromed .45 and a black .9
As thoughts began to unravel from my mind
lookin' for adversaries to put
on flat lines
******* to one time
I pull down my pants
so them ******* can **** my ****
NOW WHOS THE REAL TRICK?
im reachin' through souls
Of young boys n girls
They hate me cuz the way i swirl
Money with my two middle fingers to the world
Have no fear cuz the Lord is here
In flesh he puttin' me through a test
For my heart
Battlin' tactics im growin' frantic
Never see me panic
Now you punk *** critics show me yo heart
Puttin' rounds in yo chest
Now ya dearly depart
No sorrow from me on a mission
Hittin' yo number one charts
With this **** ****
my ****** feel this from East to West Coast
Though I'm  From the South  i still
Love to boast
Makin' a ghetto toast
To the real
Got every heart in the burbs to slums
Packin' steel
No time to back downs soon ill be holdin' the crown
Mild scars from breakin' the slaveryyy
Wither its reason or rhyme to crime and strife
We embracin' that **** life!!!


jeffrey robin Aug 2010
simple ......

.....the boy is angry cause
the world is
f---ing with im!

like the world is
f---ing wit you!

but you dont mind cause you are civilized
civilized!
civilized!!

me **** you are!

you are afraid an so the boy gotta be
brave as can be
he aint wantin to fight for is rights
but you sit there while
they're taken away
taken away!
everyones freedom
everyones rights!

an i aint talkin bout no tea bag party
these decayed an decaying
once human bodies!

no i just talkin about you an yer ****!

simple ......

.....the boy is angry cause
the world is
f---ing with im!

like the world is
f---ing wit you!

but you dont mind
you dont mind

you just say
LOVE IS BLIND
AN AS UNKIND AS ME
Arcassin B Oct 2014
By Arcassin Burnham



I wanna make this last forever,
I wanna have the kids and the marriage,
I wanna have hold your hand at every park,
I wanna be the man rolling the baby carriage,
I wanna know if its real,
I wanna know if we will live good,
Some where in Hawaii,
Were both misunderstood,
So why not forget everybody,
I wanna luv ya more than me.
Luv ❤
ohNoe May 2014
A Compilation Of Romantical Tidbits
From The Tomes Of Marcus


Perhaps somewhere along time's vista
as I stroll down the lane
twixt the cherry blossom snow
and the baby blue blanket of sky,
a crystal miracle
will flutter down
on the fragranted breeze
to alight on my honored shoulder,
blow a kiss in my ear
and say “today is your day,
what do you wish?
I shall grant reality
to whatever desire is most special.”
there would be sining,
elven voices mingling in the air.
there would be dancing,
a wild run midst the night skies.
I would pluck stars from their heavenly roosts
and place them like flowers in hair
to wink at me from inside your sparkle,
try vainly to outshine you
and finally bow to the Queen of their own.


memories
and memorabilia
substitute for your presence
as mementos embrace me
with their hint of your essence.
they fill me with silly fanciful notions
of lazy afternoons
and the coursing of unbridled passion
almost furious in its urgency
promising ecstasy and rhapsody
and calm in its permanency
whispering this is rapture and sincerity.


I see images of a rose,
love on the vine.

an erstwhile poet
dancing in his orbit
around the center of his universe --
you, the inspiration for each verse.

want to dive into your ocean
and ride the waves of emotion.
there's no worry I'll drown
for weightless is love's crown.

I yearn for the touch of your words
to fall like silken snowflakes about my head,
burst into flames once heard
and set my paper soul burnng in their stead.

there's so much to share:
a sweet kiss;
a gentle caress.
flattery may get you everywhere.


they say sweets that pass the lips
stay forever on the hips.
so sweetness gathered from twixt the hips
should spend eternity on the lips.
the nectar makes me giddy
like honeymoon champagne
and forever intoxicates me --
love's fine wine thrills my brain.


LOVE is a big word
woven from a million smaller 'luvs'.
I luv being with you,
it adds dimensions to my personality
and makes ego insignificant.
I luv the way you smile,
how your eyes reflect the joy of the soul
and the soft glow you radiate
flares brighter.
I luv the rush of color
it brings your gently drawn cheeks.
and I luv your lilting laugh,
a simple sound that melts me
and absorbs me into its echo.
when you wish to laugh
laugh with me,
it moves me along
in a soothing warm cascade.
when you want to smile
smile on me,
it removes obstacles
and lights my way.
when you need to cry
cry into me,
I'll soak up your tears
and return truth,
fantasy
and support.

listen to me.
I sound just like
some foolish romantic,
young and in love.
guess I am
from time to time.
wish I could be that way
every second, every day.
PrttyBrd Nov 2014
Behind the light of the screen
Live many a friendship unseen
Straight up or with a twist
These bonds do exist
And I am thankful to all
In between
112714
Thank You my poetic family. You are warmth on a cold day, a dry shoulder, a kindred spirit when i feel isolated. We share and thus we are never alone
Soul Scalpel Apr 2014
So,
I see you're back from a little trip,
using daddy's  AMEX out at Abby&Fitch.;

You're a slave to fashion and intolerable twit.
That blouse would look better
on a bag of ****.
jeffrey robin Mar 2015
Luv
()   She  ()

///

She narcissistically

Pussified the word " love "

Turning it into a description of her

Genital throbbing

And turning each man

Into her personalized version

Of a walking *****

//

Thusly

When she saw an entire generation

Of *** addicts

Turn the world's children

Over to the war machine

( for LUV of country ! )

She was glad

And rejoiced full heartedly

In the suffering all around

for with each death

She saw a vision of herself
King Tutankhamun Aug 2015
It ain't no Love i take flight like a Dove

in my mind just beatin' time kickin' rhymes

about Reality but Life's a ***** im married To

only way i Can Divorce is through the Fatal Way

What's the Happy in that? i keep a Hot Gat

cuz suckas be yearning

tryna make into a Steerin' Wheel

and turn me into another Direction

but they ain't ******' me with that Indoctrination

Education failed me so the Drugs came to Me

on MLK and Alberta from Houston big rollas

went from drivin' a Gold Acura now im pushin' a 

Beamer 7 a 2 quarters Slaughter

the competition on the Streets 

suckas be walkin' with Water under they Feet

cuz ya they Slippin' Set Trippin' yo Inf load the Clip In

and let the Bullets riddle through ya Body 

like you catchin' the Holy Ghost

i smoke the Most

til im faded out no Doubt 

i know i done alot Wrong in my Lifetime

and soon to me my Downfall

cops tryna get me to fall

into their trap but im too Intelligent

i graduated with Honors from the School of Hard Knocks

knockin' boots became a 9 to 5 live

every monday through sunday was always a Gun Play

we don't have murals on our Subway

cuz we ain't got one

but i know that

verse was Irrelevant im never Hesitant

to get the Money its Always Sunny in the Streets of the H 

theres always a dead body in the Ditch

Snitches hide in the Dark but like a Spark

to a Blunt we gone set they *** on Fire

and Make 'em Expire

and we still packin' Slugs

givin' a Shout out to my Thugs 

with one what?
one Luv???? yo
Bunhead17 Nov 2013
2 Pac:
"...and I feel like if you walk by a street and you was walkin' on concrete and you saw a rose, growing outta concrete
Even if it had messed up petals and it was a little to the side you would marvel at just seeing a rose grow through concrete.."


As a yougin' all I had was a dream
Rappin' to myself as my mama used to scream
Papa getting violent and he beatin' her again
They just feeling stressed cause they tryna pay the rent

Papa, you a G though you did wrong
Mama, you an angel cause you stayed strong
Papa, it's alright, we have weak moments
Mama, you a soldier cause you keep holdin'

Uh
But some days, we ain't have ****
And some nights, I was askin'
"Why we so poor, but my friends not?"
Just jealous of what my friends got

Uh
I was hungry and you fed me love
****, you gave me yours, it wasn't enough
Yet, I took it all and without a praise
You made it feel like home and without a place
Workin' like slaves, and I'm so sorry
Ungrateful for the things you done did for me
Comin' home from school, disrespecting
Acting like I ain't have blessings
Dear, Mama the council won't get you
If you try to go, I won't let you
A careless *** kid, but I'm tryna change it
I just need to tell you I appreciate it

2Pac:
"...and I feel like if you walk by a street and you was walkin' on concrete and you saw a rose, growing outta concrete
Even if it had messed up petals and it was a little.. you know, to the side you would marvel at just seeing a rose grow through concrete.."


As a youngin' all I had was a dream
You was my brother, my hero, my team
I was down for you, all you did was sell
I was growin' up while you was in and out of jail
Waitin' at the court room, all of us silent
You was never home, you was always so violent
How you think I felt when I visited the prison
Of where my brother at while my partner gone missin'
I was gone dissin', but I was just hurt
From all those nights, those fights, those words
****, we used to argue all the time, I hated you
And witnessing your drug dealin' and I hated, too
It was my birthday and then some next ****
All them times, you just got your *** arrested
Family stressin', I'm surprised you ain't dead
From a life of a crime, and that war with the FEDS
Have you thought 'bout what you put me through? HUH?
And all the things I had to do for you
Like deal with the people who spoke your name
Like this ***** who disrespected you, I broke her frame
But it's okay, I'm your baby sis
And some day I just may be rich
And I got you, I ain't gotta say it
I just wanted you to tell me you appreciate it

2Pac:
"...and I feel like if you walk by a street and you was walkin' on concrete and you saw a rose, growing outta concrete
Even if it had messed up petals and it was a little.. you know, to the side you would marvel at just seeing a rose grow through concrete.."
the parts that has quotation marks and 2Pac's name are words that he once said and i added them in. This is more so a rap.

— The End —