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Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
.i don't know any other music genre, where the bass is left alone, left exfoliating married to the drums, and the guitar? there's no such a thing as a rhythm guitar section in blues... the guitar is consrtantly married to solo... to a sense of orthography... best represented by ´ (the acute accent) without an o: to cream out a "hidden" u, i.e.: ó... or a cedilla (¸) bound to a c: ç to form the greek sigma (ς) - e.g. garçon... waiter, waiter: i'll just wait... that's how i see the blues guitar... the rhythm guitar isn't there, the bass is married to the drums... but the blues guitar keeps the rhythm in a "funny" way... pair up john lee ****** with lightnin' hopkins (on the piano)... and you... keep rhythm, by working solo accents into the rhythm set by the bass and drums... you rhythm by a continous sparring with the solo - you solo by ensuring your remain in the confines of chord, or something much -esque to a chord... milk, cream & alcohol... again and again: the blues... oh my dear the blues... where the rhythm of the guitar is kept with constant soloing... sometimes engaging with the bass and the drums for a reference check of rhythm... but mostly: solo the whole **** through... but it's not the sort of soloing associated with hair metal of the 1980s jerking-off for performance art piquance... sometimes the solos come in the form of chords... it's like i said already... layers:

         waiter -   garçon
                                 and garcon
                                               (¸)

blues guitar? the latter...
                                             solo accents...
rhythm of syllables: gar-çon
                              but mostly gar-con
                                                         ­  (¸)
since the bass and drums rhythm section
is so perfected in the blues,
the guitar is allowed to do what the hands
want owned by the devil...
        a thorough solo to keep the rhythm...
the one genre of music
where the solo works like a rhythm...
     instead of that in between section
of showing off
between verse chorus verse chorus solo chorus
standard of rock...

     another freedom given to the blues guitar?
the rhythm set by the vocals,
of repeating lyrics...
hell... if someone is going to sing
and play at the same time...
                  why explore lyrics as some sort
of narrative... ping-pong along
with the freedom of the itchy fingers...
by having no real verse,
and no real chorus...
                just a steadied momentum...
        and you really need to drink to appreciate
the blues...
                   just like all the hippies
will tell you that dropping acid enchances your
chances of enjoying the 13th floor elevators
or jefferson airplane...
              i don't know which is better these days:
jazz or blues?
sure as **** not rap...
                       and they say the slave trade
was all bad... sorry...
      without these west africans budding
in h'america... i'd still have a clarinet shoved
up my ***... or folk songs...
                  or mozart's woodwind imitating...
or vivaldi's *******' worth of spring...
yes, and we all know that Idi Amin was white...
wasn't he? who died peacefully while
under asylum in saudi arabia...
           Idi Amin was white! oh come on!
he was the last king of sctoland!
              on a side:
   they were picking cotton...
             well... at least they weren't working
the ******* coalmines... where they now?

ever watch that video
of milo
  yiannopolous:
       congresswoman
ilhan omar
           (d-mn)
       addresses
david horowitz's west
coast retreat?

where is the old milo
gone to?
anyone pick
up on the heavy breathing?

there's the stag ***
of only 2 years prior?
he's not here...

         i was never into making
videos,
only because i just liked
those japanese godzilla
movies from the late 80s...

and i'm still a sucker
for modern pop,
currently?
           mabel - don't call me up...
huge, huge sucker
for the expected reaction
to pop music...
synch. vocals and
a very limited circumstance
of lyrical poverty...

sucker... might as well
don a dunce hat...
elsewhere,
on the ibernian peninsula
it's also called
a *capirote
...
and **** gets freaky...

i agree...
the northern crusades,
the polacks became christened
in 962...
   the teutonic knights
were ready
to explore lithuania...
we were about to allign
ourselves with them,
ergo: defend them...

            the concept
of reconquista came after
the crusades...
         i'm pretty sure it came
after...
           jihad is reconquista...
worded differently...
   is it? the crusades were one
thing...
     jihad = reconquista...
         the current form of jihad?
it's like crusading...
     to claim a jihad is to claim
reclaiming lost lands,
there must be some muslim genius
who could come up with
a counter term to jihad:
the jihad on the offensive...
rather than on the defensive...
we need some muslim genius
to come up with a conquering
ideology of islam...
   umayyad script...

i'm reading into the video
and i'm like:
is he angry...
       or is he simply scared?
all that heavy breathing...
maybe it's both?
   do i "think" about
throwing him from
a roof... are you sane?
as they say:
in a mad mad world,
the only sane people
                    are the madmen...

talk about memes finally
coming across "genetic"
mutation...
                why are all the "liberals"
and "progressives"
so surprised by mutation
creeping into memes?
doesn't that usually happen
with genes?
so... what's with all the outrage...
if memes exist outside
of the biological reality
of genes,
then... surely,
any counter-thought
from the est. order is equivalent
to a mutation, isn't it?

               so... what's the outrage
about?
    well if genes are going
to by hijacked by a mutation,
why would memes be immune
to a mutation,
akin to the o.k. hand sign?
you want a script?
i learned this at primary school,
but you need two hands
in tow:

   (right hand RH,
left hand LH,
   thumb TH
         index I
      ******* MF
        ring finger RF
pinky P)...

and now the motion

   RH (I + MF hand down) slap on the
the LH palm of the open hand...
   RH (I + MF hand up) slap
on the LH palm of the open hand...
RH (I + MF
               V shaped insertion
of the V shape into the LH's
side)
      clenched fist of RH slammed
on the open palm of the LH...
clenched RH with an extended TH
poiting toward caesar's favour
in the coliseum (thumb's up)
moving away from the LH open
palm...

   translation?
   why, don't, you, ****, off...
primary school,
some of the kid's parents
must have taught them this sequence
when their children told them
that some foreigner ******
was attending primary school
with them...

                   poor milo though...
notably in that video...
           he's either really angry...
or he's ******* himself...

i'm still left with this sign language...
i don't even know if it's correct...
a kevin spacey "conundrum"...
i'm not exactly going to, *******,
am i?
                knitting and picking
points of criticism...
   made easy:
   no niqab, no turban,
   no copper skin,
             no black skin...
no wonder my fellow countrymen
are leaving
with a massive F          and a U
from this island...
                    good for them...
if i was sane enough,
i'd also leave...
      but given that i'm also a dual-citizen...
well...
         milk the ***** for
her last worth...
    this language...
                    the people are another story,
but my lover affair with
this language is exactly
this.
Gray Ndiaye Mar 2019
it was you all along
i thought it was me
i apologized profusely
my cries were ignored
you blamed me
i did too
drove myself to the brink of insanity
so often that i knew
the back roads
all along
it was you
Steve D'Beard Jan 2013
I should've guessed
by the nondescript response
teenagers glazed
by 'proper' use of language;
'old-speak' as some would see it
yet to be blessed by a words prowess
fazed by more than 1 syllable
seems inconceivable
and yet text-speak sits,
or rather, should be, languish,
as a hybrid of our languages
prompts me to write this
out of plain literary anguish.

each year on birthdays
write a small poem or limerick
the momentary excitement of opening the card
is lapsed by reason
(it does not contain a £20 note)
the thought bubble denotes
they express some disdain
the speech bubble that follows
the spark in the brain
just another of Uncles gimmicks
lacking the imagination to invoke
something more personal
than a hardback book:
another 200 recipes
for the aspiring young cook

they implied they enjoyed lunchtimes at school
instead wanted an iPad or something
equally expensive and cool

So I try to embrace it
this thing they call urban
write something poetic in text-speak
the very premise of it
is somewhat disturbing
the infinite curve of learning
LOLs from actual LOLS;
the mobile language equivalent
of online voyeurs,
the posters of nonsense,
noobs and trolls

apparently a ROFL
is more-or-less as potent as ****
I scratch my head in wonder
text-speak is used by millions
to converse on a global scale
some how

Q: does SUM exist
(as in 'shut ur mouth' )
is that acceptable?

A: not yet cordially invited on the list
(its an actual word
doesn't count as an acronym)
Im told

the coal face of the lexicon:
indigestible
the steep learning curve:
unpredictable

by your 30s its automatically
re-classified:
Congratulations
You are now officially 'Old'

we are merely wordsmith pedestrians
lost in the tide of text-speak equestrians
jumping and leaping and rolling in SETE and S2R's
are we binned as an S4L, the Spam For Life?
(perhaps I haven't got that abbreviation quite right)

in the context of text-speak
they are suitably troll-like in their essence
forgive me dear teenager
I am but a
SNAG in your presence:

'Sensitive'
(on occasion)
'New
Age' and
'Grown-up'
(given the right persuasion)

the riposte would be SUYF!!
('Shut Up You Fool' - said like MR. T in A-Team)
STM and Spank The Monkey
apologise, SOZ, SRY and Apls
or something equally short,
snappy and funky

at this juncture
before the brain has a puncture
simply BBFN, lest I
BBS or BBIAB or BBIAF
[thankfully this isn't a test]

like WCA
(Who Cares Anyway)
but you'd remark WAI
(and thats I for Idiot)
let out a long distance sigh
wave the imaginary fist
at the youth of yesteryear

all you'd get back was
Wicked Evil Grin
(WEG) for a
Wild *** Guess
(WAG);
a WEG for a WAG
and a PDQ x 2

would be the sum parts of the conversation
between me and you

if language and words and meaning was lost
if acronyms and abbrieviations
in CAPS
was all that there was

*** smeared in ***
with APLS for the PMJI
TXT SPK has got me PML
when MHBFY and
M8s on a MOB crusade
AWOL and dizzy for the next API
MGB for your MF device
throw in some GALGAL logic
where GIGO will simply suffice
Warning: PAW and GJIAGDV
(where the latter is Volcano)
include your GF for some cuddly GBH
and some GHP if she says so

its T2Go
be positive with the T+
and all of that Text-Speak CUZ
I'll T2UL and T for your time,
I'll TAH on the whole TBC

next year i'll just slip in a £20 note
and simply write:
Happy Birthday
with LV
from me
I have a disdain for text-speak as a replacement for language but it seems the only way to converse with teenage cousins on mobile, so I wrote this in response to that.
talaina sorensen Jul 2017
I am a bad *****
Doing bad, *****.
Doing bad so long
It's like a habit.
Been down for so long
***** turned me into a mad *****
**** being sad *****.
Sad for what?
I don't have ****.
As soon as I got one thing
**** it's gone like magic.
Cause it cost more to have nothing
Then to have ****.
All this, over compensation
And tryna pay back ****.
That I gave to a Mf when they didnt have it.
So now Im in my bag *****.
Now im wrong cause im actin savage.
Tryna get my life together, i thought youd be glad *****..
Im jus a badd *****
Going threw bad ****.
Shot ain't right
But that's too bad *****
Michael John Jul 2018
i

i think why not to let
but proved the query set
a double somersault-twist
or kiss your sweet lips..

can  end in cold death-
still the birds in the trees
go cheep or not at all..
i have reason to not question..

ii

i have memories return from the crib
it is all just part of the aging process
we beetle by saying that can´t be right
the lights´ get bright and bright..!

birds talk to us but i don´t hear voices
we become preoccupied with prices..
i recall four blackjacks  a penny
dying has a long curious way..

i am pretty sure i am someone else
absolute and completely and yet
these early feelings as blithe pictures
remain constant..



iii


more work less ******* about
but creation is just living
some absolute and indistinct
(it is tough being a poet..)..

iv

lily says,for it is her,
you don´t play no more,
only i say in mind
the years don´t lie
content´ s fragile store..
repetition dulls the brightest
core..eventually a silent purr ask´ s why
not why not..

v

why write poetry says lily
because it is a futile act
of achieving something perfectly..
we like that..


or like stubbing one´ s little toe
a rabbit from a dream hat
in a vain effort to retain what
remains of my memory..

lily why not or why bother..
lily red diamond from her
eyes sparking like a star is
just a ******* star baby..

she half nelson bottle wine
why do anything..a sign
a metaphor an hieroglyph
love and hate lily..

or the little bird in the agaves
i would like to shoot that one
hate and love lily
porquoi-pas..

vi

i read o twenty years before actually commiting to paper
not much but i knew the stuff i loved and kept there
i know it was charles bukowski i loved his funky gear
thank you norwegion liz for lending me his books dear..

ham on rye and factotum you say don´t lose them mf
i swore i would not lose them i would not lose them kf
kind friend..but i lost them i lost them..df..
dumb ******..


i leant them to someone that swore the same
they suffered an horrendous head..crang..
on and the books lost the books got lost..
there was scant satisfaction in plaster form..

maybe they went to a happy home
so not my fault that his drunk poems
god is he fun liz i hear your laugh then
such a wild sound ..generous so!

you said i should write and thank you
only human to encourage me true
and always a good drinking companion
you bought decent wine..

i adored cognac o..that was my poison
you always attracted van gelis errant tounge
unpleasant but one had to watch him..
that was his fun..

and then backgammon
goes a bit faint then..
i would like to say i won
you told me roland was cheating..

i think it was fun to play him anyway
esspicially on cement truck day..
not that he ever bought me a drink
not that i liked cement..

i lived with roland actually
this stopped any conversation
i met him by accident in eilat
that place was a laugh..

i think i enjoyed the second time
first loads of day jobs though i
played in the streets..and living with
the russians..

that a blast lily..my immediate neighbor
we never spoke..and the police pulled his hair
and yet not a squeak..a match box of grass cheap
i went to silently get a light..

he did say never run boy..
i thought alright for you
alright,
who was playing late night
in the soft quiet night..

so i was nosy
within the deepest hush
a glass and bottle jungle
impossible this silence

and i could hear him swallow
once the army ran through
i was tucked up in bead reading
by hopeless candle light..

i met roland in the peace cafe
a misnomer if ever there was
he picked me up and tossed me
around..

hey mike we got ****** and under
the landing planes roaring down
aint had hash like that in so many
years..

there was the red lion and at seven
free food and a drink and a movie
i read miguel cervantes..they
play the eye of the tiger later..

then the hard rock cafe with killer
egg and chips
i worked with an architect and made
a few shekals.

vii

i got out of there man i went south
dhab a quiet hut and goats..
that is the life right there..
o the corral beauties..

the stars as glimpsed through the palm..
pretty carpet and soften-songs of balm
brain blown and fly blown
and then back to town..

which came as a shock then
i had a drink and a very nice mention
for the cafe at the bus station..
i salut the the patience of the librarians..
Thandiwe Noki May 2015
I live far from crops
my mind remembers growing.
did we have harvest?



My family had farms
once at least. What were your kin?
the great grand oxen?



There is a cottage
upon the drumlin yonder
it is not my home
Francie Lynch May 2015
I'm Home
Awaiting Notification,
Or perhaps a Message
About My Poems.
I add to My Collections,
Or to My Favorite;
But my Preferences
Are still yours,
HP.
embla Feb 2016
MF
"In a cold and sunshiny haze, I will forget about this."
Cunning Linguist Sep 2018
Triggered much
I'm the boss
Take the loss -
I'm the sauce *****,
A1

Call my bluff
Mindless thots
Gobble ****
Catch me bustin
Like it ain't nut

Go to sleep

Fighting wars with keyboards,
While Grandma knits
Globally postal
Wit that anthrax mix
only hoping that reality splits;

These Lizard overlords
be slitherin quick
Underground:
u kno this wigga, B. Hittin-Licks

I’m ****** imminent  
to infinity and beyond
This dude buzzed lightyear,
Woody full attention;
Lil Bo Peep
She be getting no sleep,
Its a methed up situation yuh

This the celebration

Make yo ****
fissure into splinters
Crack the Ripper
with my finger
on the trigger
just hope it dont slip
~make you quiver
Rock a tight sphincter

Boi got nothing to lose
u bet your *** that I deliver
Devastating maneuvers
leave you hatin fools
Like who dis kid
with parkinsons jitters

Its a disgrace
cant lace ya shoes
But tryna play catch up
**** outta my face
*****,  hail the victor ya trippin'

Make no mistake,
my alias is satan
You lost the game
Restart the mission?

Dyslexic peasant,
I brought yo presents
I'm aggressive
reckless and relentless
got a rope necklace take some lessons

Finna hit em with that finisher
Sippin licks with dinner sure
Smokin out the villagers
**** and pillage conqueror
Down the bottle slurring words
Blurring out the big pictures
Swinging from a high fixture
Slanging sherm above the curve

rello I be rollin
biscuit limp but i be blowin
Out the water laps I'm stroking
Real **** love got homies choking

Smoke bricks kick rocks
Got the socks on with the flip flops

Golf cap on my noggin
Give me top like its hats off
grab some charmin
keep that *** soft
***** gravier than thicc sauce
Like my salad full toss
About to clobber em
Jump jump ***** crisscross

Taskforce Outlaws with chainsaws
Pale horse when that bass drop

And it’s occured to me
Since I lack the courtesy
To say the pleasantries
fore i be pushing out them boundaries

Killer O.J. quenches thirst
a murderous summer is the worst
But if the glove fits, must acquit
need a magnum, Jonnie Cochran
blast em wit the Chewbacca defense

Flowerboy spit my seed *****
Loose lips in the whip aye
Firmly grasp the shaft
when I switch lanes
Pallets of ******* call me rick James
Pull up round the clock
Gone off that rock
Knocked my mf block off ***** I'm insane
Tha fire token renegade

through that snapback
Spills ya ****** brains
f
f this.
and that.
f the soul-******* siphons.
f the **** ******* on all the things.
f the wretched that ravages souls.
f plundering the vast unknown. f the broken that breaks us apart. f the pain that can’t find the exit door. f the non sequiturs that never stop. f all the thinks I'll never get to know. f the desert that evaporates technicolor dreams. f the reams of unsung ink.

f getting up too early. f never enough sleep.
f having no focus because mind is always trying to escape.
f the architects of this unending industrialized violent puppet reality TV.

f not having patience for utmost important because basic survival in this free range slave menagerie is just too overwhelming and chips away daily at already threadbare sanity.

f the aches under these ribs always begging for more.
f the abyss that eats cravings caved in for breakfast.

f the knowing that knows how awesomely amazingly brilliant loving flipping mind-glowingly ecstatic and jovial like a MF this existence could be.

it haunts me:

iridescent reflective ascendant peacocked wings
fluttering phoenixflies burst from ill-fit cocoons
surfing air so ******* fresh
even the Lorax ain’t got **** to say - he’s dancing
with kombucha in one hand and a DMT pipe in the other
at the festival called, I dunno, Just Because it’s ******* Monday

and we could
love and make and dream and play
all day every day every year every life...

and I look over
at this giddy ******
epic little boy version of me
and I think:
****

I have to keep trying
keep believing in the things
because the thought of leaving him
in this world, as-is
without me

is the hardest thing
I’ve ever had to think
Dennis Willis May 15
I like the blank page
the empty line
the waiting space
of meaning

the waiting space
of sound

the reddening
against the white
is always black
and stark

ruddy and wet
needing water
wriggling vines
wannabe lines

scarce on an edge
is plentiful here
would you like two
just toss in this you

it's a goner and a
should uh an' a would uh
wrestled into a could uh
and I'm definitely gonna

fill this mf'er in
fill this mf'er up
this mf'er up
mf'er up
kereso Mar 2011
ee eee
ee ee eee
t tttt tt
tt taa.

aa aaa
ai ii ii i
i inn nn n
nn n oo.

oo o oo
ssss sss
rr rrr rr
lll ld.

dd dh h
h hcc cu u
u mm mf fp
pyy gg.

w v b.
Rj May 2015
MF
I already miss you
Goodbye, have fun
NeroameeAlucard Sep 2015
At Notebooks end.
So we’re at this notebook’s end. The pages are full to bursting in there and to celebrate the ledger of poems and lyrics and half formed ideas I’m going to write down this freestyle of topics I haven’t discussed herein. Let’s begin with my senpai she knows who she is she picked the topics out that’s how special to me she is. She was the one who picked these topics out that’s how special to me she is. But I have to ask her finally to be mine because people like her come around once, maybe twice in a person’s lifetime.
Anyway let’s get into the real meat of this freestyle I think I’ll start with my room and its many strange residents that I acquired over the years via dumb luck gifts or just spending dead presidents. I have shorted out headphones that only seem to work with a binder clip two guitars and my grandpa gave me a bottle that contains a ship I have two vinyl pop figurines 1 of Batman and the original robin who later became Nightwing. A sewn pouch full of spare guitar picks additional sketchpads that are totally rad and an N64 console with a messed up controller and a lagging joystick. And last but not least I have on my Bed rest Del the Funky Sox Bear and his little brother Shawn Hawk aka MF.
Now that my room is covered let’s get into the nitty gritty about my hometown Chicago the second city. Warning to all tourists its pronounced S-E-A-R-S tower even though it’s spelled Willis. Anyway I was born and raised here like DJ quik and his hometown of Compton no offense to the man but in my city we have our own definition of Stomping. There just isn’t any city on earth that is quite like mine I have a lot of love for my home more than I can ever hope to fit into one rhyme.
Now onto two more topics that Echo picked out. Laughter and sound, Is it possible to accurately describe these two parts of life in a verse that’s been written down? God only knows because we’re going to find out. Laughter is life’s most potent medicine releasing endorphins that make us feel good all over. But as it can be medicine it can also be a poisonous mask because many people including myself over the years have used laughter to cover up the tears from a broken heart of glass. Speaking of laughter it’s a most wondrous sound emanating from humans occasionally rolling around on the ground. Sound technically speaking is vibrations that travel through the air that surrounds but for me its fuel to write my musings down.
Last but not least let’s address the blue sometimes cloudy and sunset blazed sky, now heights and I don’t really mix in just not that kind of guy. But on the back of a calm endearing Zephyr I would love to fly.
To commemorate filling up the sketchpad i wrote a majority of my poems of lately i wrote this on the last few pages of it. I'll keep it for posterity obviously.
Homunculus Jan 2018
Dear literary journals:

I'm a millennial American male
who came of age in the aughts.
Do you have ANY idea how much
RAP MUSIC I GREW UP ON?!?!?!?!

And now you want me to write some
sort of rhyme devoid, metrically impoverished
modernist dross which is REALLY

just prose that's written in line
and stanza break, in order for you
to publish me? Please do clarify:

HOW THE HELL DO I DO THAT?!?!?!?!

I have SOOOOO much more in common
with Mos Def, Talib Kweli, and MF DOOM
than I do with any of that ridiculous nonsense
that your stuffy Imagist deity Ezra Pound
(who was also an ardent FASCIST, might I add)
churned out page after page. I mean, look

William Carlos Williams:

"I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold"

Now, look at Kweli:

"Yo, I activism, attackin' the system
The Blacks and Latins in prison
Numbers have risen, they're victims lackin' the vision
****, and all they got is rappin' to listen to
I let them know we missin' you, the love is unconditional
Even when the condition is critical, when the livin' is miserable
Your position is pivotal, I ain't bullshittin' you
Now, why would I lie? Just to get by? "

and please explain to me, just exactly how the former
is SUCH a higher form of art than the latter?

It's beginning to seem to me that
The REAL issue here is that rhyme and meter
were co-opted by a group of writers
who evolved
the usage of
said literary devices
to such an advanced degree,
that many of the older styles
paled in comparison, and
ESPECIALLY in terms of technical prowess

It just so happened,
that to the great misfortune of those
brilliant auteurs
they just so happened to be
not only POOR,
but also BLACK,
thereby barring their innovations
from serious consideration
by those in the ivory tower
of so called "HIGH ART"

As if to say:
"Oh, RHYMES?"
You mean those old artifacts
of the outdated formalists, and
favored staples of the lowly rappers?

In a way that as if by magic, makes Williams'
Inane single sentence about eating plums
written in line and stanza break, somehow
better, more enduringly creative, and
of greater importance
, than
Kweli's incisive social commentary.

But, you know. I'm always open to being wrong.
Since, I usually am wrong about most things.
But, it seems that every time I pick up a lit journal,
it's the same type of broken narratives, with
the occasional token verse or rhyme
thrown in for good measure.
Maybe I just don't read enough lit journals,

but I can just about GUARANTEE that in 100 years,
people will have a much more distinct memory of Nas's
"Illmatic" than they will Ezra Pound's "Cantos"
And in point of fact, most people with whom I speak these days,
do not even know who Ezra Pound WAS, but they SURE know Kendrick's verses from "Alright"

So what gives, lit journals? It seems obvious at this point
that rappers are now creating the most successful and
widely disseminated forms of oral poetry currently in existence
So why is it that your publications seem so averse to
styles which bear a written resemblance?

Just a touch of
CLASSISM, perhaps?
Or am I just being ignorant?
Paranoid?
Look, some of these newer types of poems ARE really good, and I don't mean to slander ALL of them. However, some of this **** is just word salad and passes as genius and I JUST DON'T ******* GET IT.
Chad Schaefer Mar 2010
Would you like some Chicken Soup?
Only when I'm diggin' for a loop
Hole in the court system to pay the debt
Why ask y if its a letter in the alpha-bet
Let MF Doom & Moka Only save the day
Come on y'all, lets eat some more soup today
MNC Productions
to hide, to lie
to string dangling participles
along on metaphors

use poetry
where lips won't work
and mind can't find
The Way

let crystal crimsom flow
from serrated wrists

obscurity allows for
solshimmers of the ineffable
so don't eff it in the a
like a persie Snap channel

in the event that may potentially be a thing possibly occurring perhaps I dunno and I don't know what I don't know but it sureasshit would be nice to because me and truth are like this [crossies] and on occasion it comes and knocks on my door so the Uni bringeth and I laugheth all the way to the wet sodium facepalm speaking of which I don't like the taste of that **** I like my truth rare and still mooing would you believe I'm a vegetarian tho but still **** ******* like it raw crunch munch nom noms even though I slurp soup like there's no phoking tomorrow also down af for digressing and running onward and sideways stories from where the sidewalk never ends and I really don't think ours does plus it sure is the weirdest neatest thing ever did you bring the proper shoes darling I sure hope you can keep up in all the ways and FYI my door is not blasted off the hinges it's wisened and slightly ajar and I'm standing over threshold with eyes wide and slightly red because I waved goodbye to sunsets left for mf good but never got to see our light rise so just know that these wrung hands are actually open palms crippled from reaching and being singed on handles that seemed oh-so cool from my limited optical view like a mountain of honeycombed Dixie Crystal dust knees that you had been on yours praying for but gave the **** up on long before he walked in and changed EVERYTHING and I am so grateful but I am sad and I am hurt and I am confused but I am not scared like I once was of you and All our tea leaves foretold but scared I am of never really knowing you and the accompanying truths so please give it to me dagger deep I meant what I said and I said what I meant I like my men sharp and penetrative 100% and if you can't handle being earnestly struck by your own syntactic constructs direct in the ******* whinging outta my sometimes salty sacrosanct then me and you just won't do since that happens to be my forte as it were and maybe you're not up for the uphill to heaven with this mystical inferno but if you think perhaps maybe your life will never be the same without me in it someway somehow then let's fill the grey unnamed with a foundation of friendship where all is safe and found and all that means to me is everything so if you trust me to know the things about love a.k.a. the holy mystery which you ahem did as I recall with glowing warm curled around my formerly shaking cold then don't worry about getting back to it there's no such way to a thing it's there - always was, is, will be - it's just we're having this hooded entourage over for dinner first and honey I don't know if we have enough chairs but I'll sit on the floor with you and we can laugh and cry and eat sixteen courses of humble pie until the holy ghost enters the room which she undoubtedly will do and leave periodically only to return when we get all cozy and still or maybe upon the exodus of tears when all the walls have been torn down and we finally see clear through that one room has indeed been forged from two

or whatever
wordvango Apr 2015
the rhyming with erotica
and crime the passe difference
The heartbeats lost,
the so called toughness,
the manliness, heee
**** all you tough guys.
The tougher ones who stayed
around providing for their offspring
are the men among us. Those who had the
strength to say I love you, and ******'
meant it. all you tough Mf's look deeply,
why did you hate?
' cause maybe
You think?
No man was around to give you,
the love u missin"?
Payton Mar 2017
So we finally have reached the end.

Finally, you have pushed me too far
Finally, I am right on the edge.
I'm feeling too uncomfortable now to not jump
It took longer than I had hoped.

I reeled you in, again & again thinking maybe this time,
he will go through with what he says,
darling... you never did.

Only created a bigger mess out of what already was piling over & in the process you butchered me. You butchered how I felt,
the kind softness I had for you,
you finally turned me to stone.

So how do you like me now?
When I am eager to go,
how does it feel to be "given up" on?
Can you imagine how I have felt?

Theres no such thing as letting go when the person pushes you away.
When the person brings others into the equation.
They already weren't giving enough to just you & now
you saying I gotta share?
You had the nerve... to not even ask... but force me to share?

You only want me when you need me, you weak ****.
You use people when you down and you dont even take the advice given.
You a goofy mf.

The type to neglect the only one holding you down &
look into other girls eyes saying you love them.

Well, go on and love them then.
Go on ahead and miss them
Go kiss them, rub them, lust after them
like you lusted after me, only,
dont call it love this time.
Don't leave them mistaken too.

It ain't right, making someone feel like this,
it ain't right and thats all I can say.

Can't talk to you no more because I left for good this time.
and it hurts but I've just got to keep writing and depending on the Lord
because those are the only consistent things in my life these days.

Im trying not to think of you
but I keep finding myself staring into space and at blank walls wondering where things all went wrong between us.

Wondering why now just wasn't meant for us.
Wondering why I tried so hard to make it meant for us,
wondering why you watched me try so hard and didn't have the guts to say my struggle was pointless.

I would have moved mountains for you, love... had I never found your dark intentions.
It could have been us against the world.

but it wasn't meant for us.

I keep feeling like I smell you,

but it wasn't meant for us.

Im wondering if the other girls liked your lips as much as I did
I want to rip them off your face for letting them all get a taste of what I thought was mine.

So how could you do me like that...
love..
Why was I not enough?
I know timing was off,
but you didn't have to go and do that.

I know timing was off but we talked about making a family
you told me you'd rub my back every night, no question
That we'd go on morning walks
and talk for hours

Love, that was everything I wanted to hear,
Because it sounded so right with you.

Only, we dont have the future. It is not outs to control. All we have is now.

You ask me is there still a chance we can be together when timing is right?
I tell you I don't think Ill be able to trust you again,
but if its real then it comes back.
You said that wasn't the answer you wanted
I said what did you expect.

I didn't tell you though,
how weak I felt.
How badly I wanted to tell you "yes. Ill wait. Please, get it together and I'll wait."
You've turned me pathetic. I still have the armor on
but beneath it everything has gone soft.

You sensed it in the beginning.
My weak spot for you,
and boy you used it again and again until I finally told you to stop.

& I feel better now,
but I can't help wondering what if.
Will we really just become a "what if?"
Something that never happened,
something too good to be true?

I want to believe God will send you back to me
but we're at such a transitioning stage in our lives
who knows what could happen.

Maybe you'll go back to her after all
maybe you'll find another who looks like me
Maybe we will bump into eachother
While I have my kids and you have yours
and suddenly, we'll remember.

How we talked of living like it would be the easiest thing in the world. Like we could create anything, we always seemed to be in a dream land.

I can't help remembering the beautiful parts of you.
I wish I could because it'd make things a whole lot easier.
Its hard because I want to cry
but for some reason you're the one I want to cry on.

Like I want to just lay with you and put my face in your neck and let you hear what you have brought me to,
as if it would matter.

but you gone now,
ain't no more feeling your skin, now.
ain't no more soft feelings for you, now.
Only in my thoughts do I still bend to you,
If I ever saw you I guarantee I'd be frozen solid.

Because sadness lingers,
but that anger burns.

and I ain't ever been so angry at someone.
I ain't ever felt so disrespected, felt like I was nothing.
Like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe
you stepped on me again and again.
till I was so worn I fell off.
Here I stand, and though I feel limp I know I am about to be at my strongest.

Because theres no way but up once you've been thrown rock bottom.

Without you, I can get back to loving again. I can emerge from this rut I made a home out of for you.
I will love myself again,
since you could not.
I did it before and the Lord will show me I can do it again.

"So this is goodbye..." you said...
& I finally just said "goodbye."

and I think now I'll wait on someone new.
a breath of fresh air who will love me for me and only me.
Better yet, I will find someone who lives in the present.
No more being dragged backwards, thats no way to live.

I'll find someone who loves me the ways you never could.
& sure, he will smell different.
His hands will not be your hands.
His lips will not be your lips.
He will not make me feel the exact ways you made me feel

but his words will be different too, love.
They will be honest and I will breathe heavy, long, thankful sighs of relief.

Finally.

The words will be honest.
Hi welcome to the abyss of my emotions
We got iron mans and dooms dead man **** I'm feeling like stand
Mic clan clench tight like mike on friday nights see my might
Holding on strong beat on my chest like king kong all went wrong
Too many gone in this life too many riding the sad songs bongs
To mellow out my soul apart from the glow I see my own scrolls
Visions of death on my eyelids seeing idols laying out bids
See the plot similar to Alfred Hitchcock the black peacock
Laying my feathers royalty so ya cant be ignoring me follow IG
That's Instagram like these keys opening blood for lambs
Folks mouths like clams looking for the Pearl's caught the swirls
Of a universal girls boys playing like many rings of Saturn
See the pattern paradigm for the new birth of slime got the dime
Out of a nickle see the sickle curving all haters grass mash my stash
I saw the plot from the ending pain is just a seasoned beginning
I used to be regular switch from gospel to secular however
I'm still the same ol me tryna keep up doom and screws legacy
Who better to be spitting on the youtube commentary it's scary
Couldn't see an obituary before homie hit half a century **** I see
Raps still taking a loss though they claim wins still cant make ends
Meet greets of an enemies death seems to be jealous of life
Though they like husband or wives vice versa playing the circa
Flashback to the early days pre great amateur slays rhymes pay
Many minds attention tighten ya necks without a lynching
Feel the depths strengthen twenty twenty was just. a trouble
And twenty twenty one will just be a double glance the Hubble  
I'm out of space **** the human race I'm giving victory taste
Slash still wearing the hockey mask cold sips out of the flask
Is he here or is he there I'm just another atom in this air
Atmosphere times is clear see courage and stop loving the fear
Yeah


Yo dooms this ones for you into verse two still at a rendezvous
Once I learn how to smoke out a crew took on against the blue
Red and the white liberal I myself a miracle worlds is satirical  
Stage pictures of splattered words written from a 12 gauge
Poetry in motion smooth sailing in the mind of an ocean potion
I took a chug of it above it like Mickey DS you'll love it
Hovering like an UFO sittin upon the studio tryna get a demo
Records stores ain't tryna hear us real rhymers no more
Vinyls on the soar lyrics fallin' into the floor it's like Kigalmore
Tryna take over wakanda twin brother jealousy and hate
Number one killer amongst black folks doom gave shots
Without the smoke yo this is another smote check the infamous note
Glorious quote still spinning of the hairs of mary glow a cherry
Rhymes buffer than Terry the one only negativity I bury
No blues clues left for the news light  a bomb without the fuse
See the rhymes that glue intellect to my invisible tube
A robot with out the **** cant find paradise in this land of ice
Hard to stay nice fools tryna play ya a dummy twice spliced
The old wires found new enlightenment no sentiment
To the enemies sitting in the bush lurking as friends of me
Let's take a look and see how many died before the age of 50
Young go early old die miserably prepare for the funeral scenery
Everywhere I glance a stare sitting on wisdom with no chair
Modern day philosopher some call me Lucifer mister mister
Call everyone my brother or sister seems like we on race blisters
Roller coasters on the tip of the valley I shadow these skulls
Numbs ya pain pinnacles shackle the everlasting tabernacle
Yo I gotta be real rhymes I feast a beast like Mr Doom rest in peace
Muyi Mar 2017
Burn yo castle 2 the ground
When u hear my ****** coming don't u make a sound
Snitches get stitches but these suckers get fouled
Ah wow
Get down
If u don't
Lay down
Plenty cake

If u try 2 go 2 war then we don't conversate

****** been ****** ******* while y'all *******

Break a swisher
Make her lick it
Blow it in yo face

Smoking haters out the box

Summertime come around
****** acting wild

Cpd hit the block
Sneakers shake the ground

Winter time
Icy roads painted wit the blood

****** wit my Lil ******
Meet up wit my snub

Meet up wit my snub
Naw meet up wit yo maker

Jesus
Allah
Buddha Satan
Hera hermes shiva me?
*******
Getting
On they
Knees
1+2
But they ain't praying tho

U ain't even gotta mic so what u speaking 4

U ain't even gotta high so what u fiendin 4

U ain't even gotta lie
Who u sleeping on?

If he ain't getting money don't speak 4 me

If he getting out his body he can't blow 4 free

If a ***** get loud makeem rest in peace

Deuce deuce at yo chest like double Ds

I squeeze them thangs 2 make them squirt
If a ***** acting childish get his just desserts
No Häagen-Dazs *****
We don't **** wit lames
Pockets got diabetes cuz we stuffing cake

N that's on me
Remember when the boys n blue tried 2 cuff a g
Remember times got hard
We was hungry
N now the fam eating good no gluttony
So go 2 sleep

Lil ***** go 2 sleep

That's what my cousin use 2 always tell me
Cuz when id wake dollar bills is what id c

On me now we living outta dream

Yea now we living outta dream

Yea now we living outta dream n errthing ain't always what it seem
So don't sleep mf don't sleep
1st time I saw crack was at 7 in my mama kitchen......family business
Arcassin B Sep 2016
By ( Arcassin B) & Patty m

overslept, unkept
been living in a tent

(I'm obsessed with having
to be relentless)

didn't see the gun
till he pulled the trigger,
how do you figure
enough of your brainless schemes
when all I want is
the American dream
smash it
take a mansion and trash it
antiques, what the hell
old **** starts to smell

(Mmmm so potent while
I'm open,
Are you chosen for thrones
And all these other subjects are
Waiting for the arrival to be
Spoken,
Live by the gun and die by it too,
Danced around the house for
some clarity
It had me feeling blue,)


mf nothin's left or right
keep on bangin' night after night
bashed in heads
keep bleeding till you're dead
the brain game done drove u berserk
but u keep climbing out
when they throw in the dirt.
©ABPoetry2016
http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2016/09/in-dirt-ft-patty-m.html
~ For Mike~

an abundance of:

illogical reasons,
of hate,
of emboldened badness beyond inexplicable,
and nor is it
episodic, not periodic, but abundantly continuous,
so
no need for a fan, one of those upright six foot tall,
MF’er tornado sounding fans, for the hate free flies every where,
damning the consequences, full speed ahead, spreading
medieval plague style, and as we two talk of this world,
on this world,
electronically a thousand miles apart,
we, worn and wearied, being ******, and awaiting the
spill doors to unleash officially tidal waves of  
dammed up, still held back raging, hate
that is just edging over the top,
a nauseating goop (apologies to what’s her name),
I awake at 4:something

(to complete six hours later
whatever this is, this lamentation, of woe and sackcloth,
ashes on my tongue,
commenced the eve before,
but genetically ancient and familiar
in all
my cells),


to complete this heavy evensong,
commenced and begun seven hours earlier when one soul
states to another a simple,
“forgive me, my heart is heavyweight heavy tonight,
the world’s disheartened burdens beyond bearable,”

the quiet calm of a sleeping house pervades my soul,
and a lament is transmogrified into a
psalm of hope;

for having shared the pain,
when one asks the other for forgiveness,
for exposing the other to this sadness infectious,
then,
understanding and comprehension
overcome me,
realizing that hatred has failed
when two bleed into each other,
that
shared distress is
distress defeated,
by a large and grandeur
purer expression of connection
across state lines,
tween two souls
unlikely to meet,
ever,
and yet this cellular combination
is so powerful, so
a w e s o m e,
it is
indefatigable,
(incapable of being defeated)
and we are each others
Shepherd and lamb,
in a time of woe,
one more time,
but soon the dawn will come
to welcome us with
the embrace of a newborn,
uncontaminated,
and to finish this now psalm,
now, and forever
newly perfected.
a messenger exchange,
of a wail of despair,
creating words of repair
5:17AM April 1 2024
wordvango Mar 2015
snakes eyes again
    god damm twelve times in row
can't ever lucky me
    get a seven eleven
I had all my rent money
     riding on that
how 'bout
          for what i lost
you give me a room
           to play this silicone
blonde up a bit
              before I give you the title
to my Benz
           Or, I see you a hard *** MF
how 'bout we play
    double for nothing?
mf Sep 2014
if tears are a language
mine will drown you
just to let you know how much
i love you

if tears are a language
you'd hear a storm raging
flooding the thoughts of you
with her

if tears are a language
you'd see huge waves of them
suddenly and unexpectedly when
i miss you

because if tears are a language
you might understand me better
see, words have failed me but
i'm made out of 70% water

and so maybe just maybe
you'll finally see
the control you have
over a huge part of me

(mf)
love is a universal language, right?
“He wasn’t even your brother”
“Why the **** would you want a tattoo?”
“You know that ****’s permanent right?”
I don’t want a tattoo
I want way more than a tattoo
I want people to see it and ask who he was
And I want to say he was the little brother I never had
Until he became the little brother I had for only 7 years
I want my eyes to fill up with tears
I want the world to know that pain is temporary when you shove a needle inside of you
But its not temporary when you lose someone who was a part of you
That **** lasts forever
It will last forever in my brain
It will last forever in my heart
Is it so bad that I want it to last forever on my skin
That pain in my heart that pain in my brain that's the forever I’m scared of
That's the forever I don’t want to have
I crave the forever of this aching ink stain
It's a stain that has been in my brain for four years now
If you asked me I couldn’t even tell you HOW I’ve lived these one thousand four hundred sixty one days
Without him the world quickly turned grey
The thorns overpowered the beauty of the flowers
The shade got in the way
The rain burnt out the fire of the sun
Where Weezer used to play
The moments became pictures
The pictures became memories
The memories became moments I took for granted
And it took four years but the picture frames eventually fell slanted
These pictures were handed and planted on this wall just to become slanted
These pictures of the miracle that ran out of miracles at only 10 years old
I was 13 watching his body go cold
You think I’m too young to put some ink on my skin
You think I’m too young to be smelling like gin
But am I too young to be dying?
I close my eyes every winter just to see miracle boy lying while my best friend is crying over his miracle powered body
I see others tears drip down his miracle bald head
I see that rubber tube giving him air
But he’s already dead
You ******* fools you thought air could bring him back to life
He breathes miracles *******!
He lived on prayers
He never ****** in your airborn *******!
I can’t stop staring at that little chair where he used to sit
It’s been 4 years no one can move it
It weighs 2 pounds but the memories are a ton
We just look at it cause he was the only one
That could make something special by loving it
He was the only one worthy of the **** that he loved
He was ******* miracle boy how hard is that to understand
I want everyone to know his life like the back of their hand
I want a tattoo at 17 somehow I’m sick in the head
But 3 years is old enough to be sick and 10 is old enough to be dead
I write this **** down and realize this is what I should have said
Not “oh yea you’re totally right I’m an idiot sorry”
SORRY that this time I’m not throwing my opinions AWAY to be agreeable because november 29th marks the DAY my brother died in front of my eyes
Try to tell me he’s not my brother you’re full of ******* lies
Id tattoo MF in the center of my face
He was my brother and he can’t be replaced
By this little trace of permanent ink
But maybe if it’s there I’ll finally be able to THINK about something happier than watching miracles fall 6 feet under
During these winter months of depressing rain and scarring thunder
Ill know I’ve got bad memories on my mind but good ones on my skin
And I can sleep with a little pain on the wound but no more pain within
With this little symbol of love
Ill be spreading his story till the day I die
Like hell I want the people I love to be on earth
But miracle boy belongs in the sky.
My skills be swift as a meteor welcome to the tour
Of Yosef ******* rhymes galore left ya sore
Mentality couldn't handle my lyrical gore
From the sky ceiling to the earth floor
I'm makin' splits like lightening fast and frightening
Even lost spirits got the reciting cuz I'm hypin'
Up the baddest brews sip only a few
Still breakin' crews like news worldwide views
Who could do what I do got the power of Goku
And you be sweet as that purple fool in Ginu
Force forget the source took a spiritual course
Once my brain went into REMS registered my consciousness
Like DMs
See him he ain't as intellectual as Eye
Still got curtains over his eyes beat mesmerize
So much so your pours open from the temperature rise
Know wise guys who demise fakers running around with brokers mentality enterprise
I realize I'm aboriginal and so you are you
Well if you was enslaved too?
The system cuz they love to lynch 'em
You know em' the color I'm talking about
But everybody loves to dismiss about
But the truth is lifting veil while tappin' nails
On the table scared of us breaking the sable
See me I'm just an average dude sike I'm a successors
To MF Doom Whoaaa

While the enemies pistol is shootin'
and the lobbyist still lootin"
Our everyday presence wake up and smell the war incense
See the love to keep fear intense with immense
Nonesense then ask us to repent for the lent
They left on others nations filled with color
Well? It seems like they only attack people similar to Black
But now that you have the facts lets
Get the bumpin' back on track
No locos or rail roads just a dirt road leading the way
To where their souls got taken away
To the crossroads along with skulls and bones
Stolen legacy a representation of brutal democracy
But somehow the black man was made the enemy?
Hidden in the Vatican Rome I'm all alone
Searchin' for destiny but somehow she finds me
Sittin' in the cemetery park with the Buddha sparks
I can't see nothing like an atom to quark
I'm science undefined rewind back to my timeline
Royal ya highness I'm the highest dynasty baby made from the finest Hard fro me to digest
all this knowledge But they stay with ******* stress test oh I guess?
Slightly Lovely Jan 2020
a scream down an empty hallway.
that's what it feels to think about it.
as broken air conditioner hums along,
the darkness shrouding the actions of a man I did not know,
who's hands were in places they didn't belong,
and I wonder if that night from my childhood,
will ever really be gone.
I couldn't say no,
If I didn't know what was going on.
repressssseeeeeedddddd traummmmmaaaaaaa
Oreii mama....
Ayyababoyi ... navvesindirooo....
.
.
Nuvvante naakishtam, nee navvante naakishtam

Sachin ki thana straight drive antha na?
Na galli lo Farhaan ki thana leg spin antha na?
Veetikante ekkuva,
Nuvvante naakishtam.

MF Husain ki thana modified cubist style antha na?
Zakir Hussain ki thana pakhawaj antha na?
Veetikante ekkuva,
Nuvvante naakishtam.

Shakespeare ki thana kalam antha na?
Math sir ki thana blackboard duster antha na?
Veetikante ekkuva,
Nuvvante naakishtam.

Amma pette goru muddha antha na?
Nanna cheyyi pattukoni nadipinche anthe na?
Veetikante ekkuva!!
Nuvvante naakishtam.

Oreii babai...
Siggu padthundiroo...

— The End —