"phonies" poems
A yellow ladybird waiting for the light to turn red.
Patiently awaiting what's to come.
She knows better than to make rude gestures at the light.
It won't make it change any quicker.
She knows she can spend her time better than being an angst-ridden insect cynically hating phonies.
It's true patience is a virtue
and she sticks by this principle.
No matter what they say,
a principle's a principle.
The yellow ladybird knows a lot of things.
A delightful delinquent who enjoys reading eloquent literature
and can tell you who painted that pretty picture.
But she is still just a yellow ladybird.
Still only learning how to operate in this world.
But when the light turns red, then she will know.
Know more than she does now.
Soon the yellow ladybird will see the light, be it the light she would've liked or not, I can not say.
Only she can decide if the waiting was worth it.
And for her poor soul, I hope it was.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
Staying still
I try to drain
Every last
Little drop.
Tilting back, I
Grip the neck but
Don't break it, God forbid
I'm in no shape to clean up a mess
Though I'm an expert at making them,
I tell you what, I hate the television, all
those shiny happy people like in that
song I don't know the words to, but it's
obviously true, watching these shiny
happy lives with all of these beautiful
people who are probably ugly on the
inside, just like me, going home to sit
in their expensive new recliners and
grip the neck but don't break it, don't
make a mess that you can't clean up
drain every last drop even if you don't
really want it, 'cause it used to make
you feel much better, and now it's just
routine, like brushing your teeth and
trying to sleep and telling old friends
that you're fine, fine, just tired, so very
tired and I'm trying to stare through the
television to see these stupid phonies at
home in their own chairs, drinking from
a bottle like this one as if it might save
their sorry lives, like I'm trying to do
right now, tilting it back for just one
more drop, ****** there is no more
and I'm not done drinking but the neck
is slipping from my hands and I'm trying
to drink it down, **** it up when I let go
of the neck and drop it and there is a mess
for me to clean up, I tell you what, all that
broken glass and those elusive little drops
that could've made everything so much better,
could've fixed me but oh well, guess I can't
watch TV anymore, 'cause I've got a mess to
try to clean up right now, yes siree, guess
that even the shiny happy people have to
**** it up and fix it every now and then
just like me and you and everyone else.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
When you’ve had enough
Of maniacs and hustlers,
Of fakes and phonies
And smooth talking hucksters
It’s time to pull back
And sort through the weeds
To find the flowers
And see what you need.
Not what you want,
That’s something different.
If your needs aren’t met
Life can get belligerent.
You need breath and water
And some other great stuff
Or you stop living a lot
And that is rather rough.
Once we move from needs
The rest are all your wants
And you can live without them
Despite all your rowdy taunts.
How many times have you heard
I need coffee when I wake up?
That is a case of your want
That comes in a handy cup.
Or, I need to buy cigarettes
But that isn’t really true.
You don’t think you’ll die without
I mean, not really, do you?
Or, I need some ice cream now
Or a cruller or two or three.
That doesn’t sound fatal
Unless you do that daily.
So, the best thing you can do
For your one and only body
Is to try your best to keep
The thing from getting shoddy
By separating the things
That your body best deserves
And realize that ignoring wants
Does nothing but get on nerves.
With that clearing of your head
And setting of new priorities
The Big Things of the day
Turn into pesky minorities.
Suddenly you see that you
Can choose who to ignore
And then see what you need
And need for nothing more.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 11:36 PM UTC
Do we notice the finer things in life? The husband's and wives, children that's been conceived! Thou and they are all thou needeth when thy roof springs its leak!
Sick
Wearied
Weak?
Looking in all the wrong places?
Itinerant in the stagnative imagination's
For don't even the mammals haveth a place to stay?
Like the son of man
I haveth no chapel
For this head to consecretly layeth!!!
Dog nights seem more teething!!!!
Vestige of all beauty
You've left that still life post,
Wherein thy mantra's I seeketh the most!!!
The I loveth thou's
And thou more....
Deluge of happiness
Covereth me
Bury me
In atmospheric condition,
Oh man didst thou not mention?
The plaques to ***** it's protract sorrow!!!!
Hath society made materialism
And the dollar sign
Their romantic gesture?
A pity to God
And me!!!!
Mobs of fleas
To calleth what they maketh
MANIFESTED TESTIMONIES!!!!
Wherein the frauds
Fakes
And phonies
Art thy t.v magnate stars!!!!!
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
Do we notice the finer things in life? The husband's and wives, children that's been conceived! Thou and they are all thou needeth when thy roof springs its leak!
Sick
Wearied
Weak?
Looking in all the wrong places?
Itinerant in the stagnative imagination's
For don't even the mammals haveth a place to stay?
Like the son of man
I haveth no chapel
For this head to consecretly layeth!!!
Dog nights seem more teething!!!!
Vestige of all beauty
You've left that still life post,
Wherein thy mantra's I seeketh the most!!!
The I loveth thou's
And thou more....
Deluge of happiness
Covereth me
Bury me
In atmospheric condition,
Oh man didst thou not mention?
The plaques to ***** it's protract sorrow!!!!
Hath society made materialism
And the dollar sign
Their romantic gesture?
A pity to God
And me!!!!
Mobs of fleas
To calleth what they maketh
MANIFESTED TESTIMONIES!!!!
Wherein the frauds
Fakes
And phonies
Art thy t.v magnate stars!!!!!
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
I love how hard it is for all of us to accept ourselves,
Putting on elaborate masks,
To go parading amongst the phonies.
I love how we all talk to and about each other,
But never try to repair the broken relationships,
But what I love the most is
how we all complain about our position,
but never seek the answers to put our minds at rest,
To keep the past in the past and move to whats best.
You sit here reading this,
And think,
"What a hypocrite!"
"What a beast!"
But I see my flaws,
and I know who I am,
Im working to help myself,
on levels that most don't understand,
Because while most put on masks,
I put on war paint,
and march into battle,
facing the demons of my past,
to look foreward to that brighter future.
And the truth is
I love all these things
because I sit back and realize,
that im not a warrior,
that is battling alone,
that we're all going through the same situations,
Just different scenarios.
that we all have difficulties,
living with ourselves,
The same difficulty facing the monsters in the mirror.
But it's time for us all to face the facts,
To bring out the war paint,
and throw out the masks.
Time to smear it all over,
cover up the flakes and cracks,
It's time to march into battle,
to beat down our demons,
wipe off the shame and sorrows of the past,
walk triumphantly into the sunset,
head held high and soul held higher,
and never look back.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC
YOU
Ignore the weeping wounded
As they wallow in the mire
YOU
Fear contamination
Of your heart's desire
**Kudos
Respect
Acceptance**
YOUR
Palatable poison of the day
Knock
Knock
Knock
*"Have you seen my courage?"
"Is it coming out to play?"*
"Not today Poet
For your words are all but dead
Maybe ...
Next time
Stick to your principles
Instead of rolling over .... playing dead!"
"You have a voice
Use it
Stand tall
Walk tall
Walk proud
Believe what
YOU
Believe in
Not the needs of this faux crowd!
"I thought you were a Warrior
A God amongst mere men
But ...
When the push
Came to
The shove
YOU
YOU
Divorced yourself from Zen
"So here is my dilemma
The knot tight inside my soul
Was this just a one off?
Or will
YOU
Always roll
Always roll on with the 'in crowd'
Irrespective of the
THOUGHT
Or will
YOU
**Stand by .... what you believe in?
Stand by .... what you've been taught?"**
"Fakes & Phonies
Two a penny
Cut no ice with me
But ...
For the record
I will state
My name is
MARIE-LOUISE
Bathsheba was just a bit of fun
It held me in good stead
But now ...
I feel the time is right
To lie her down to bed"
"And as I lay her down to sleep
Silently close the door
I know she was a lot of things
**But never a poet *****
She always held her principles
In highest of esteem
She was an individual
But still part of the team
Can you my friend
Say the same
With your hand held on your heart
Or will
YOU
Stick your head in the sand
then try to pass it of
as
ABSTRACT ART!
Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 8:50 AM UTC
Inside…
Preachers, teachers, sleepers
Ponies, cronies, phonies
Murders, murmurs, lurkers, tearjerkers
Sexes, hexes, Pseudo T-Rex’s
Splices, spices, identity crises
Chasms, spasms, *******
Tongues, songs sung, smoke-filled lungs, décor hung
Confessions, obsessions, strange blessings
Gargoyles, rich spoils, no mortal coil
Rose windows, ruddy elbows, emperor’s clothes-
A place of chaos and a place of hope
Outside…
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 3:59 PM UTC
youve been there before but it didnt workout accordingly
step back and view the situation from a never angle
you keep coming back and will not be denied
you want to return to once was and when the world felt just right
pants were looser weight gained from all the stress
return to the social world with out feeling rejected
make your own path because the way things are dont work for you
find those true friends that you could depend on
not phonies who hang when having troubles with their partner
a true friend is your partner in crime
helping you up instead of kicking you down
you make your way isolated and along
but for once things feel right not worrying
or seeking approval but doing and feeling whats right
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC
Quatron of prediction; it is not what's believed by me
I've partook more bitter ever since
Ever since the phonies kept babbling of morals
Ever since the phonies kept babbling
To each their own to each
Teaching what does not revolve
Itching at me because you are not real
I hope that someday you will see what is not
I hope that someday you can't see
Toiling brims of sin or not; I smite upon flakes alas
Alas my cynical undertone revealed each day after night and again
No remmorse do I own, grave away from epoch
I skirm when you speak of such feats
To each their own to each
Teaching what does not induce
Scratching at me because you are not real
I hope that someday you will see what is not
I hope that someday you can't see
Imaum of hate is true of my fate
How can you grasp what you are?
Where are you? Who are you? Do you exists?
We are inkligs of nothing, no doubt.
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 12:49 PM UTC
Dreams of being able to say whatever
Chasing down fakes and phonies gets old
Don't have kids your and idiot unfit
He's cheating you allow it
Or she cheated blaming you
Your job will only take you far
Being a **** doesn't make you right
Take what you can get
But others chose to be the best
This job doesn't separate your cheap
Don't know a person but want a relationship
All these factors seen mean everything to someone but nothing is being done
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 6:18 PM UTC
7 am.
For once I'm early.
For once I woke up, happy.
For once I woke up remember that it does get better.
For once my fathers text aren't true.
For once, I can easily wake up
For once, I can start my day off right.
For once, I'm actually happy.
Not that cheap liquor induced happiness.
But,
A small warm hug of happiness.
Maybe they won't leave, I haven't.
Maybe I won't shun them, they seem to like me.
Maybe mom was right,
I just had to get through high school.
Art school was the best decision of my life.
Wanna know why?
I'm doing what I love.
I'm surrounded by people who are like me.
Sure.
There will be the posers and phonies.
The ones with all the mask caked on and truly don't know who they are.
But,
Then there is us.
The wallflowers.
Take us however you wish.
Yes.
I'm broken.
Hurt.
Needy.
Afraid.
Helpless at times too...
But,
I'm happy.
Excited.
Rejoiced.
Refreshed.
Because I have this life,
I have this family,
And now...
I have these friends.
So today,
At 7 am,
I write to all you that I love to say,
Today I'm not just fine or okay,
I'm great.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
I’m not big enough
I’m not strong enough
It isn’t wide enough
It isn’t long enough.
I’ve hear them all
You are not the first.
Not the best and certainly
You are not the worst.
Princess Tiny Meat
That surely is me.
As uninteresting
As a guy can be.
No fun in bed, but
How would they know?
They take one look
And away they go.
I’m not rich enough
Car’s not worth enough.
I live in the wrong place
No work done on my face.
Don’t know the right folks.
Don’t know the right jokes.
Don’t know the right dances.
Not worth taking chances.
Princess Tiny Meat
That surely is me.
As uninteresting
As a guy can be.
No fun in bed, but
How would they know?
They take one look
And away they go.
Not butch enough, yet
Who cares about that?
What matters in their soul
Is a big one for their hole.
It must be a big opening
That keeps them hoping
For an arm-sized toy
For such a fixated boy.
Princess Tiny Meat
That surely is me.
As uninteresting
As a guy can be.
No fun in bed, but
How would they know?
They take one look
And away they go.
There must be no talking;
Nothing but constant poking
Will satisfy the size-slut.
Nothing matters but their ****
No exchange of ideas or
Hobbies they can explore.
There is only getting laid.
And the conquests they made.
Princess Tiny Meat
That surely is me.
As uninteresting
As a guy can be.
No fun in bed, but
How would they know?
They take one look
And away they go.
It doesn’t take long to see
Where the gems can be
Among a sea of phonies
And disco show-ponies.
So, I tell them right away
There’s no bologna here today.
It runs off the size-queens
And leaves human beings.
Princess Tiny Meat
That surely is me.
As uninteresting
As a guy can be.
No fun in bed, but
How would they know?
They take one look
And away they go.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
As the colors blend on this paper I begin to see that this work is an original just like me.
A duplicate you'll never find. This design is from my mind.
The colors are different and they add their own flavor. Red's not hating because black has become his neighbor.
Yellow is aged and her clothes are falling apart. I grab some clear tape to help her out and then I can finish my piece of art.
Purple is having a hard time as of late. The job she has she doesn't like because the pay's not so great.
Brown is so good to her boss and has begged for a raise. He sent
her a stained memo that said " I'm working on your situation. It should be rectified one of these days." Mr. Brown
I keep my eye on green because he's always watching me and my homies. I heard him mumble something about the other colors I hang with. He said they were phonies.
White talked to Orange the other day and she didn't have a clue.....that Orange had been fired from her job and now Orange is feeling blue.
They all used to live in a box.....until I dumped them on the table. The crayons rolled and scattered relieved to see the light of day. They were glad to be free of a box that didn't have cable.
No matter what our differences are and the problems we go through.....when we work together .....we make gray skies blue.
We can make grown ups small and children grow. Your imagination is allowed free reign. Now in which direction will you go?
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 2:49 AM UTC
I covet the hideous cult of fame. Spending my days in despondent cafés manically scribbling passionate love letters to recognition.
I'm not in love I'm insane.
Suffering from self-diagnosed misunderstood artist syndrome. My heart cries silent. I am a shadow in the distance. Warped, distorted and dark I scream alone; never to be touched.
I am a poser, a fame ****** and a hero worshiper. My vitriol view on the world hinders me. Constantly on the verge of crying in public. Staring at train tracks, they invite me away. Looking more comfortable then a bed.
I try to live in the now but the future petrifies me. I can't escape my own mind.
Y culture, My culture, Counter culture, **** culture, Love culture, Hate culture, Phonies.
I can’t see past the haze of disappointment I have designed myself. I smoke **** because it relaxes me, makes me feel like what I assume normality feels like. I drink because it makes me feel like how I assume those happy people feel. I take heroine because it makes me feel euphoric and takes me close enough to death that I want to live another day.
A brutal fear beats my anaemic mind. A peculiar fear grips my inner-self and I can’t bear to open my eyes and see that I had survived the night. I become saddened by the thought that I might also survive the day, living to see what I will be tomorrow.
Happy in the madness. Longing for that sick feeling. In love with the sadness. Searching in the dark recesses of the mind for inspiration. I can’t see past my fate, it’s too dark. I sit and source inspiration through the emotions and physical fits of ************ Self-abuse. Clawing for red gold in the catacombs that meander through my pale arms.
Beat myself out of sight beat me out of sight beat me beat me till I float. Beat me beat me till I float.
I am a poser, a fame ****** and a hero worshiper. My vitriol view on the world hinders me. Constantly on the verge of crying in public. Staring at train tracks, they invite me away. Looking more comfortable than a bed.
Relapse is fine by me. I want this. I want this. I want this. I want this. Not a tortured artist just tortured. Not a tortured soul just a cracked shell. In the name of art but in the corner of sickness.
Beat myself out of sight beat me out of sight beat me beat me till I float. Beat me beat me till I float.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
Fake parental love
Apathetic attitudes all around me
What is love
What is friendship
Those questions keep me dead in my waking dreams
I dream of love and acceptance the pursuit of happiness
So many dead dreams pilling up keep me questioning what the so called god has in store for me
Great ambitions so many goals reaching the sky above
Yet i'm constantly faced with hate and demise
I lay in dismay at all the phonies and so called accepting Christ loving people who do nothing but stand there and talk in a pretentious yet ****** manner
The hordes of people swarming the halls like packs of wolves swarming for their lunch
student organizations losing their purpose only there to look attractive for the school school the institution that imprisons me like a rat in a cage i wish to be free of such disorder and unrest
After my day is done i walk down from the hell i have experienced
i try to go away from it
trying to seek shelter in such an unholy environment
i come back to the hell
another god forsaken place
full of apathetic unpredictable hate random bursts of rage and fits
expectations expectations
draining my heart of emotion
i am but an alien feeling nothing but alienation
i'm just a stranger in a strange land
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 12:09 PM UTC
The tradition of marriage,
Bourgeois blackmail and baggage,
Is it all a bargain for men?
Is this what white weddings meant?
All the love that is lost,
And what is the ultimate cost?
A divorce court pizza,
Magistrate smirks like Mona Lisa,
Four corners, one for each,
Dog gets the crust, if it can reach,
Cats get the anchovies,
Were white weddings for phonies?
When is the revolution?
Blancmange brides for pollution,
Bridesmaids-Little Bo Peeps on crack,
Does society cut us some slack?
We joined the bourgeoisie,
All ends in tears and hypocrisy.
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 4:48 AM UTC
I'll say it now and I've said it before; the best book I've ever read is about the paradoxes of war.
A friend asked a question, then added
"But spare me the lecture."
I told him the best book I've ever read was about architecture.
An alien sent a question from his head telepathically to mine,
So I thought of that book I once read of a man unstuck in time.
(If the title was placed here, it would just almost rhyme)
Near Betelgeuse, I picked up a man in need of a ride
I asked where he was headed, and he said,
"Nowhere in mind."
He had a book with him.
It was some sort of guide.
I once kicked the crap around with a young kid in a hat.
He looked down at my hands and said,
"Hey, what's that?"
I told him it was a book full of phonies and jerks.
He nodded, then lit a cigarette.
There was blood on his shirt
A man once recited,
Word for word,
A book I recognized after having heard.
I said, "That's my favorite!"
And he gave me a look.
The best book I've ever read was about burning books.
I once played God, and gave a dead thing new life,
But it was so grotesque that I had to run away and hide.
A tormented and wretched human imitation.
Made me think of a book about a man tortured by his own creation.
One time I was reading a book above mentioned,
When a man came up to me and asked a most impertinent question.
He said, "I see you reading all the time, but have you ever read
the greatest book of all time?" I glared at him and said,
"No I have not, but I've heard much about it.
It's a very popular book, but I do without it."
He said I should reconsider.
That it's not one to pass.
I told him to take that **** book, and shove it up his ***
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 12:17 AM UTC
What doth thou invest thine time into?
Is it watching sports?
Is it t.v?
Is it ***********
Is it lust?
Is it media in all forms?
Is it money?
Food?
Drink?
Is it memoribillia?
Is it the metal car?
That wilt just rust and ruin and not last........
Is it mansion, home or shack?
Is it dope?
***
Money orders?
Checks?
Is it hatred?
And greed?
Cutting others down?
Crying?
Is it lonesomeness?
When thou aren't really lonely?
Is it a fake smile
To please the phonies?
Is it thinking of tommorrow
When we've only today?
Is it thy looks?
Pride amazed?
Is it shopping?
Clothes?
Silver?
Gold?
Hath thou tried to focus
Not on these wordly things..............
But focus on thy lovers!!!!!!!
Husbands,
Wives,
Sons
Mothers
Daughter's
Pets(animals period)
Brothers
Sisters
Aunties
Uncles
Cousins
Neices
Nephews
Family period
Or the one thou art in love with
Romance wise?
Hath thou done this today?
Or keeping that love secret???
Tommorrow might not come
Better make the move,
Husbandman
Wife
Father
Son
Lovers
To be one......
Tis
Tis I sayeth
Tommorrow
Might not cometh....
Tis I do believe
Tommorrow don't always cometh!!!!!!
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 5:31 PM UTC
It's funny how no matter where you go
everything is the same. No kidding.
I've been to San Fransisco and everyone is pretending to not be fake,
and I've been to New York and they're even bigger phonies.
I walked into town once, two miles from my house to the park.
I walked along the highway and stuck my thumb out the whole way.
No one stopped until this man on a motorcycle did.
He asked me where I was going and I said into town.
He asked where in town and I said the first thing that came to mind.
Charlies Cafe, I said. We rode to Charlies Cafe which was only a 20 minute walk from where we were but whatever.
He didn't have a helmet but that was fine.
He dropped me off. I never even went into Charlies.
I walked a half block to the gas station and went inside.
I grabbed an Arizona and walked up to the counter.
"Anything else for yah?"
"Yeah uh, a pack of Natural American Spirits."
I slapped a ten on the counter and the man asked to see identification.
I told him I didn't have any but I also wouldn't need change.
He sold me the cigarettes and the Arizona and didn't give me change. It's that kinda stuff that ****** me off.
And that's what I mean. You ask someone for something and they act like they're doing you a hell of a favor and then you waive some money under their noses and they're shining your ******* boots.
I got off the subway and to the venue.
There were people filing in and smoking flowing out.
I stood in line, bought my ticket and went in. Some ******** band a friend had told me about who was playing. I was meeting him there in 30 minutes but wanted to scope it out early. A girl wearing fishnet stockings was looking cute in a booth all by herself. I sat down in the booth next to her and ordered a drink. The waiter was nice enough to forget to ask about my non existent ID. I leaned over and asked the girl if I could refill her drink.
She looked at me disgusted and said "I will let you know, that I have a boyfriend."
Jesus, it's not like I asked to **** her or anything.
"Jesus it's not like I asked you to **** me or anything."
I returned my lean to my booth. I'm usually not so curt with women but this ****** me off.
My friend never showed up and I bailed during the opening act.
I walked all the way back to my apartment and smoked.
It started raining.
Cute girls, gas station clerks, weather, they can all be *******
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 2:10 AM UTC
A BULLET IS FIRED,
BLOOD IS DESIRED.
THERE IS NO WAY DOWN,
A SANGUINE BED AROUND.
THOSE BEHIND TABLES WATCH THE SHOW,
BUT, I'M A SOLDIER MADE TO BOW.
CUZ I'M A SOLDIER, I FIGHT FOR MY MOTHER,
TO THOSE PHONIES, I DESIRED TO TETHER.
MY END IS NEAR, I'VE A QUESTION,
TO MY COUNTRYMEN, DO I DESERVE ADMIRATION ?
I DESIRE NOTHING OVER MY CADAVER,
BUT A TRI-COLOR FLAG FOR A FLAG-WAVER.
OH MY LOVE DO NOT CRY,
CUZ, I'VE ATTAINED THE HIGHEST SKY.
LET MY LAD KNOW THE DEED OF MINE,
SO HE'LL BE NEXT IN THE MARTYR-LINE.
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC
How to expand your vocabulary,
Quite incidental, actually.
Feed the need, that craving inside,
Bury the pip, symbols collide,
Confide in a way brevity insists,
Cast from heaps of molten lists.
Impossible sentiment proven not,
Paramount structure, stir the ***
Rot and dross swathe the beast,
Desperate for light, look to the East.
Irate in anguish, confined to doom,
Within the partition of the Lazarus tomb,
Displeased, they persist, clang the facade.
The home, the locale, of our very own God.
Indelible musing forms the rock,
Which from overhead, the horde did mock.
“Crock is what you mean to me!”
Bellow they do, around Judas tree.
Not ‘till the end, their faith to heal,
Endeavor to crack the Devil’s seal.
Reel and teeter, the flock ****** to awe,
The phonies true, their passion raw.
Once impalpable, begins to soar
Above them all, a Monster no more.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
Some times I pray for the Lord to take me away
From the pain that stays and friends went astray
Once I hit the bottom of the crab barrel
I a ghostly Pharoah living life on death row
My soul inside of a atom'd shell well
Ain't nothing but hell can't even bail
Only if my life got tooken or naturally Rosen
From a unwakened sleep my conscious speaks
Tryna break free but I gotta lotta work clearly
I know they fear me cuz knowledge
Is dangerous G see how many form up as enemies
After ya royalties ain't no more loyalty
Once they see the building of a dynasty
I resurrected as a king corruption born into a ring
Of a fire I'm king Tut risen from the grave givin'
Nothing but revisited pain that stains
Ya master plan I got a powerful clan
Who all pack at least fifty grand packing the stans
And turn haters into fans without even being mainstream man
Restrictions of land plot riots got brought
Unto the community guns and drugs separate unity
They disputing me cuz I speak truthfully
Most fools be spitting for mass publicity
But I gives a **** about the industry
It ain't what it used to be so many phonies
Acting like they ya homies when they holding pistols
Behind ya back my minds spins black
Back to the days of where realness sits at
That's a preposition **** the intermission
I know the rap game is about the commission
Since hataz sho they neck they bound for lynching
No disrespect to the deads souls that dialed connect
Down the gun line all I need is one line
Like to Nas gun line broke the laws that define
Me as a ***** I stay holding my trigger
I try to spread love but most miss the picture
A photograph of his last laugh before ye see the blood bath
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 8:59 AM UTC
♪ ☠♫☃
Octosyllabic rhyme was killed.
Her epitaph I chisel here…
so face the book and feed your twit;
while I the rhythmic record clear.
The sad remains of Lyric Wit
are here interred – no more to rise
(lest poets’ brains be forced to think
and plummet from post-modern skies).
You phonies scrolling Twitter-blink,
and scribblers with advanced degrees
look up, and hearken to these words
while feigning your conceited ease.
The academic gallows-birds
reviewing chap-books, high on fluff
make darker the sepulchral gloom –
as if it wasn’t dark enough.
The verdict’s in and all assume,
as measured meaning leaves the court,
he meant to **** her (Poetry).
Life sentences are written short.
The killer grinning artlessly
in blank-verse handcuffs, void of rhyme,
composes abstract lines, the dull
memoirs of his poetic crime.
The prosecution’s notes are full
the case is made, the jury hears
his guilt made evident, at least.
The victim’s mother melts in tears
He murdered her himself, the beast.
then dumped her: a deflowered rose.
His incoherent imagery
dismembered her like slaughtered prose.
She met her end lamentably;
He did her in and cut her down
thus shortening her metered day.
(That free-verse wielding abstract clown!)
Behold her grave – where grass turns hay
as poets’ bones subside to dust;
her soul with God to reconvene
(or wander with bemused disgust).
Her grave-site paints a pastoral scene,
poetic fodder – life from death…
and calves shall fatten near her tomb.
Oh coward reader: take a breath !
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC