He was baptized in whiskey
and gunsmoke aroma
Took up with a Cherokee woman
Quite friskey
Down in the Territory of Oklahoma
Tired of one too many killings
He took his side iron off
Wrapped it in its holster folded
Inside a gun oiled rag
Replaced it with his Mother's Bible
From within his saddle bag
Listened to that smart Indian woman
Who said he'd hung around the Territory
Too long
And if we don't skeedaddle
You'll be hangin' longer than you want
Smartest woman he'd ever known
She'd heard there's no law or religion
West of the Pecos and beyond
So they headed out to Texas
To preach the gospel to outlaws
****** and poor Mexican Catholics
Wrote off the Oklahoma Territory Baptists
Whose thick hides hide drunken sinners
Ridin' hard and fast her buckskin skirt
Above her thighs
Ridin' with a winner
Dark hair flowing behind
Ridin' hard to in his sight keep her
Such beauty that could stir the
***** and mind
Of even an old saddle preacher

r

[Intro]
Ain't this what they've been waiting for? You ready?

[Verse 1]
I used to pray for times like this, to rhyme like this
So I had to grind like that to shine like this
In a matter of time I spent on some locked up ****
In the back of the paddy wagon, cuffs locked on wrists
See my dreams unfold, nightmares come true
It was time to marry the game and I said, "Yeah, I do"
If you want it you gotta see it with a clear-eyed view
Got a shorty, she try'na bless me like I said, "Achoo"
Like a ***** sneezed, ***** please before them triggers squeeze
I'm gettin' cream, never let them hoes get in between
Of what we started, lil' ***** but I'm lionhearted
They love me when I was stuck and hated when I departed
I go and get it regardless, draw it like I'm an artist
No crawling, went straight to walkin' with foreigns in my garage
Got foreign ******* menaging, ******', suckin', and swallowin'
Anything for a dollar, they tell me get 'em, I got 'em
I did it without an album
I did **** with Mariah
Lil' ***** I'm on fire
Icy as a hockey rink, Philly ***** I'm fly-er
When I bought the Rolls Royce they thought it was leased
Then I bought that new Ferrari, hater rest in peace
Hater rest in peace, rest in peace to the parking lot
Phantom so big, it can't even fit in the parking spot
You ain't talkin' bout my ****** then what you talkin' bout?
Gangstas move in silence, ***** and I don't talk a lot
I don't say a word, I don't say a word
Was on my grind and now I got what I deserve **** *****
Hold up wait a minute, y'all thought I was finished?
When I bought that Aston Martin y'all thought it was rented?
Flexin' on these ******, I'm like Popeye on his spinach
Double M, yeah that's my team, Rozay the captain, I'm the lieutenant
I’m the type to count a million cash then grind like I’m broke
That Lambo, my new *****, she'll ride like my Ghost
I'm ridin' around my city with my hand strapped on my toast
Cause these ****** want me dead and I gotta make it back home
Cause my momma need that bill money and my son need some milk
These ****** tryna take my life, they **** around get killed
You **** around, you **** around, you **** around, get smoked
Cause these Philly ****** I brought with me don't **** around, no joke
All I know is ******, when it comes to me
I got young ****** that's rollin' I got ****** throwin' b's
I done did the DOAs I done did the KODs
Every time I'm in that ***** I get to throwin' 30 G's
Now I'm hanging out that drop head, I'm riding down on Collins
They like, my ***** back home that young ***** be wildin'
We young ****** and we mobbin' like Batman and we're Robin
This 2-door Maybach, with my seat all reclinin'
I'm that real ***** what up, real ***** what up
If you ain't about that ****** game then ***** ***** shut up
If you diss me in yo' raps, I'll get your ***** *** stuck up
When you touchdown in my hood, no that tour life ain't good
Catch me down in MIA, at that Heat game on wood
With that Puma life on my feet, like that little engine I could
Boy I slide down on your block, bike on twelve o'clock
And they be throwing dueces on the same ***** they watch
And I'm the king of my city cause I'm still calling them shots
And these lames talking that ******* the same ****** that flopped
I'm the same ***** from Berks Street with them ***** braids that lock
The same ***** that came up and I had to wait for my spot
And these ****** hating on me, hoes waiting on me
Still on that hood ****, my Rolls Royce on E
They gon' remember me, I say remember me
So much money have ya friends turn into enemies
And when there’s beef I turn my enemies to memories
With them bricks they go from 40 ain't no 10 a key, hold up
Broke ***** turn rich, love the game like Mitch
And if I leave you think them pretty hoes gon' still **** my ****?
It was something 'bout that Rollie when it first touched my wrist
Had me feeling like that dope boy when he first touched that brick
I'm gone

You see her on every corner
Giving every nigguh a disease
Then they end up with coroner
But im just a foreigner
To this place everytime i look
In her face
I think of a disgrace
Take a step back and retrace
My steps
Setting setting stones
Knocking meat off the bone
She got us in a love jones
Ya drowl im not a fool
I play it cool
So dont **** with a rabbit hole
Silly silly stay away from lil red
Riding ***

My wild love went ridin'
She rode all the day
She wrote to the devil
And asked him to pay
The devil was wiser
It's time to repent
He asked her to give back
The money she spent

My wild love went ridin'
She rode to the sea
She gathered together
Some shells for her head
She rode and she rode on
She rode for a while
Then stopped for an evenin'
And lay her head down

She rode on to Christmas
She rode to the farm
She rode to Japan
And we entered a town
By this time the river
Had changed one degree
She asked for the people
To let her go free

My wild love is crazy
She screams like a bird
She moans like a cat
When she wants to be heard
My wild love went ridin'
She rode for an hour
She rode and she rested
And then she rode on
Ride, c'mon

Some clichty folks
don't know the facts,
posin' and preenin'
and puttin' on acts,
stretchin' their backs.

They move into condos
up over the ranks,
pawn their souls
to the local banks.
Buying big cars
they can't afford,
ridin' around town
actin' bored.

If they want to learn how to live life right
they ought to study me on Saturday night.

My job at the plant
ain't the biggest bet,
but I pay my bills
and stay out of debt.
I get my hair done
for my own self's sake,
so I don't have to pick
and I don't have to rake.

Take the church money out
and head cross town
to my friend girl's house
where we plan our round.
We meet our men and go to a joint
where the music is blue
and to the point.

Folks write about me.
They just can't see
how I work all week
at the factory.
Then get spruced up
and laugh and dance
And turn away from worry
with sassy glance.

They accuse me of livin'
from day to day,
but who are they kiddin'?
So are they.

My life ain't heaven
but it sure ain't hell.
I'm not on top
but I call it swell
if I'm able to work
and get paid right
and have the luck to be Black
on a Saturday night.

With her cowpoke
She went riding out with him
One dark and windy day.

The desert had forsaken their love and left their hearts astray.

As sharp as a cactus' spine, her lips did pine for days.

They sat around their victim's pyres tasting burnt bone, curdled blood.

She saw the mess of her cowpoke, blonde and brown beauties layed in the mud.

She asked why must these girls die
If their looks were truly good
He mumbled that his heart had been broken by the stormy flood.

So they swept across Arizona with it's bright windy haze
And withdrew their revolvers with eyes that met in gaze

They downed a couple of beers in the dusky saloon
Until right in front of them was the old rusty moon

Tonight she will riding out in the ****** lands
Where with her man she'll be soaking her rigid hands

In wine that oozes from the corpses in the sands
And in the sheets ridin' she'll take command.

A note of seeming truth and trust
                      Hid crafty observation;
                And secret hung, with poison’d crust,
                      The dirk of defamation:
                A mask that like the gorget show’d
                      Dye-varying, on the pigeon;
                And for a mantle large and broad,
              He wrapt him in Religion.
                   (Hypocrisy-à-la-Mode)


Upon a simmer Sunday morn,
     When Nature’s face is fair,
I walked forth to view the corn
     An’ ***** the caller air.
The risin’ sun owre Galston muirs
     Wi’ glorious light was glintin,
The hares were hirplin down the furrs,
     The lav’rocks they were chantin
          Fu’ sweet that day.

As lightsomely I glowr’d abroad
     To see a scene sae gay,
Three hizzies, early at the road,
     Cam skelpin up the way.
Twa had manteeles o’ dolefu’ black,
     But ane wi’ lyart linin;
The third, that gaed a wee a-back,
     Was in the fashion shining
          Fu’ gay that day.

The twa appear’d like sisters twin
     In feature, form, an’ claes;
Their visage wither’d, lang an’ thin,
     An’ sour as ony slaes.
The third cam up, hap-step-an’-lowp,
     As light as ony lambie,
An’ wi’ a curchie low did stoop,
     As soon as e’er she saw me,
          Fu’ kind that day.

Wi’ bonnet aff, quoth I, “Sweet lass,
     I think ye seem to ken me;
I’m sure I’ve seen that bonie face,
     But yet I canna name ye.”
Quo’ she, an’ laughin as she spak,
     An’ taks me by the han’s,
“Ye, for my sake, hae gien the ****
     Of a’ the ten comman’s
          A screed some day.

“My name is Fun—your cronie dear,
     The nearest friend ye hae;
An’ this is Superstition here,
     An’ that’s Hypocrisy.
I’m gaun to Mauchline Holy Fair,
     To spend an hour in daffin:
Gin ye’ll go there, you runkl’d pair,
     We will get famous laughin
          At them this day.”

Quoth I, “With a’ my heart, I’ll do’t:
     I’ll get my Sunday’s sark on,
An’ meet you on the holy spot;
     Faith, we’se hae fine remarkin!”
Then I gaed hame at crowdie-time
     An’ soon I made me ready;
For roads were clad frae side to side
     Wi’ monie a wearie body
          In droves that day.

Here, farmers ****, in ridin graith,
     Gaed hoddin by their cotters,
There swankies young, in braw braidclaith
     Are springin owre the gutters.
The lasses, skelpin barefit, thrang,
     In silks an’ scarlets glitter,
Wi’ sweet-milk cheese in mony a whang,
     An’ farls, bak’d wi’ butter,
          Fu’ crump that day.

When by the plate we set our nose,
     Weel heaped up wi’ ha’pence,
A greedy glowr Black Bonnet throws,
     An’ we maun draw our tippence.
Then in we go to see the show:
     On ev’ry side they’re gath’rin,
Some carryin dails, some chairs an’ stools,
     An’ some are busy bleth’rin
          Right loud that day.
…

Here some are thinkin on their sins,
     An’ some upo’ their claes;
Ane curses feet that fyl’d his shins,
     Anither sighs an’ prays:
On this hand sits a chosen swatch,
     Wi’ *****’d-up grace-proud faces;
On that a set o’ chaps at watch,
     Thrang winkin on the lasses
          To chairs that day.

O happy is that man and blest!
     Nae wonder that it pride him!
Whase ain dear lass that he likes best,
     Comes clinkin down beside him!
Wi’ arm repos’d on the chair back,
     He sweetly does compose him;
Which by degrees slips round her neck,
     An’s loof upon her *****,
          Unken’d that day.

Now a’ the congregation o’er
     Is silent expectation;
For Moodie speels the holy door,
     Wi’ tidings o’ salvation.
Should Hornie, as in ancient days,
     ‘Mang sons o’ God present him,
The vera sight o’ Moodie’s face
     To’s ain het hame had sent him
          Wi’ fright that day.

Hear how he clears the points o’ faith
     Wi’ rattlin an’ wi’ thumpin!
Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath
     He’s stampin, an’ he’s jumpin!
His lengthen’d chin, his turn’d-up snout,
     His eldritch squeal and gestures,
Oh, how they fire the heart devout
     Like cantharidian plaisters,
          On sic a day!

But hark! the tent has chang’d its voice:
     There’s peace and rest nae langer;
For a’ the real judges rise,
     They canna sit for anger.
Smith opens out his cauld harangues,
     On practice and on morals;
An’ aff the godly pour in thrangs,
     To gie the jars an’ barrels
          A lift that day.

What signifies his barren shine
     Of moral pow’rs and reason?
His English style an’ gesture fine
     Are a’ clean out o’ season.
Like Socrates or Antonine
     Or some auld pagan heathen,
The moral man he does define,
     But ne’er a word o’ faith in
          That’s right that day.

In guid time comes an antidote
     Against sic poison’d nostrum;
For Peebles, frae the water-fit,
     Ascends the holy rostrum:
See, up he’s got the word o’ God
     An’ meek an’ mim has view’d it,
While Common Sense has ta’en the road,
     An’s aff, an’ up the Cowgate
          Fast, fast that day.

Wee Miller niest the Guard relieves,
     An’ Orthodoxy raibles,
Tho’ in his heart he weel believes
     An’ thinks it auld wives’ fables:
But faith! the birkie wants a Manse,
     So cannilie he hums them;
Altho’ his carnal wit an’ sense
     Like hafflins-wise o’ercomes him
          At times that day.

Now **** an’ ben the change-house fills
     Wi’ yill-caup commentators:
Here’s cryin out for bakes an gills,
     An’ there the pint-stowp clatters;
While thick an’ thrang, an’ loud an’ lang,
     Wi’ logic an’ wi’ Scripture,
They raise a din, that in the end
     Is like to breed a rupture
          O’ wrath that day.

Leeze me on drink! it gies us mair
     Than either school or college
It kindles wit, it waukens lear,
     It pangs us fou o’ knowledge.
Be’t whisky-gill or penny-wheep,
     Or ony stronger potion,
It never fails, on drinkin deep,
     To kittle up our notion
          By night or day.

The lads an’ lasses, blythely bent
     To mind baith saul an’ body,
Sit round the table weel content,
     An’ steer about the toddy,
On this ane’s dress an’ that ane’s leuk
     They’re makin observations;
While some are cozie i’ the neuk,
     An’ forming assignations
          To meet some day.

But now the Lord’s ain trumpet touts,
     Till a’ the hills rae rairin,
An’ echoes back return the shouts—
     Black Russell is na sparin.
His piercing words, like highlan’ swords,
     Divide the joints an’ marrow;
His talk o’ hell, whare devils dwell,
     Our vera “sauls does harrow”
          Wi’ fright that day.

A vast, unbottom’d, boundless pit,
     Fill’d fou o’ lowin brunstane,
Whase ragin flame, an’ scorching heat
     *** melt the hardest whun-stane!
The half-asleep start up wi’ fear
     An’ think they hear it roarin,
When presently it does appear
     ’Twas but some neibor snorin,
          Asleep that day.

‘Twad be owre lang a tale to tell,
     How mony stories past,
An’ how they crouded to the yill,
     When they were a’ dismist:
How drink gaed round in cogs an’ caups
     Amang the furms an’ benches:
An’ cheese and bred frae women’s laps
     Was dealt about in lunches
          An’ dauds that day.

In comes a gausie, **** guidwife
     An’ sits down by the fire,
Syne draws her kebbuck an’ her knife;
     The lasses they are shyer:
The auld guidmen, about the grace
     Frae side to side they bother,
Till some ane by his bonnet lays,
     And gi’es them’t like a tether
          Fu’ lang that day.

Waesucks! for him that gets nae lass,
     Or lasses that hae naething!
Sma’ need has he to say a grace,
     Or melvie his braw clathing!
O wives, be mindfu’ ance yoursel
     How bonie lads ye wanted,
An’ dinna for a kebbuck-heel
     Let lasses be affronted
          On sic a day!

Now Clinkumbell, wi’ rattlin tow,
     Begins to jow an’ croon;
Some swagger hame the best they dow,
     Some wait the afternoon.
At slaps the billies halt a blink,
     Till lasses strip their shoon:
Wi’ faith an’ hope, an’ love an’ drink,
     They’re a’ in famous tune
          For crack that day.

How monie hearts this day converts
     O’ sinners and o’ lasses
Their hearts o’ stane, gin night, are gane
     As saft as ony flesh is.
There’s some are fou o’ love divine,
     There’s some are fou o’ brandy;
An’ monie jobs that day begin,
     May end in houghmagandie
          Some ither day.

I'm ridin' down in my old school Chevy (yeah)
Owh, she can get it.. (Mhm)
Bad little shawty,
So thick and pretty,
Girl come sit with me,
Ride out and see the city,
Let the lights hypnotize ya
It ain't no biggie, (word)
I'm young man searching,
Looking for a queen
A woman who takes full control
Both in and out the sheets

Now babe let's ride till they dim the city lights,
I'm not lookin for a right now,
I'm lookin for a wife
The kind that holds me down
And picks it up slow
So if you down, come around
Baby girl let me knowwww

Queen of hearts, Queen of hearts
Tryna play my cards right
Queen of hearts, Queen of hearts
Can I hold you down tonight?
Queen of hearts, Queen of hearts
A one of a kind in this deck
My Queen of hearts, yes
Can you put my heart in check?

Now I'm sweatin and shakin
Tryna see if she's bluffing,
Am I just another dealer?
Just another man cuffin?
Does this card mean nothing?
So why do I play it so close to my heart?
Is this the moment that I reshuffle? Redo the deck and restart?
Man this the hardest part,
Imma take my odds
Gamble on her smile,
Bid on this work of art,
Cause love is a game,
You only win if you play
So I ask this Queen of hearts
"Baby is this my lucky day?"

Now babe let's ride till they dim the city lights,
I'm not lookin for a right now,
I'm lookin for a wife
The kind that holds me down
And picks it up slow
So if you down, come around
Baby girl let me knowwww

Queen of hearts, Queen of hearts
Tryna play my cards right
Queen of hearts, Queen of hearts
Can I hold you down tonight?
Queen of hearts, Queen of hearts
A one of a kind in this deck
My Queen of hearts, yes
Can you put my heart in check?

Layin on the beach,
It's me and my Queen
Whispering sweet nothings in her ear
And she gently kisses my cheek,
Then she climbs on top of me
As we watched the sunset
This was more than two loves
This was more than just ***
It was passion from the ocean
And the heat from the sun
It was crazy, stupid, love
It was a blessing up above
It's feet deep in the sand
Till we both walked hand in hand
She was my only Queen of hearts
And I was her loyal kingsman.

My Queen of hearts, yeah...
Oh, oh. Oh yeah
My Queen of hearts yeah...
Oh, oh, ohh
She's simply one of a kind
My Queen of hearts....
Oh, tell me will you be mine?
(Singing fades out)

Everybody knows
Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic
as the Three "R's" you need
Without them
you'll go nowhere
and never will succeed

Writing...that's a W
and Arithmetic an A
so, who ever came up
With "Three "R's"
was having a bad day

Now, go and ask a cowboy
what the three "R's"
are to him
You'll get a different answer
I'll bet you
one to ten

Ropin', Ridin' and Rodeo
The cowboy's three R list
Reading, Writing, Arithmetic
the big three that I missed

But if they do not have the first three
They are not a cowboy
not a chance
they're just another townie
just another fancy pants

So, to be a proper cowboy
there's six "R's"
they must know
the first three
along with
ridin', ropin, and
rodeo

These are couplets written by Donald Trump and limericks and other Donald Trump poems "care of" Michael R. Burch (please note that these are parodies) ...

Not-So-Heroic Couplets
by Donald Trump
care of Michael R. Burch

To outfox the pox:
off yourself first, with Clorox!

And since death is the goal,
mainline Lysol!

No vaccine?
Just chug Mr. Clean!

Is a cure out of reach?
Fumigate your lungs, with bleach!

To immunize your thorax,
destroy it with Borax!

To immunize your bride,
drown her in Opti-cide!

To end all future gridlocks,
gargle with Vaprox!

Now, quick, down the Drain-o
with old Insane-o NoBrain-o!

Keywords/Tags: Donald Trump, coronavirus, president, poet, poems, poetry, heroic couplets, humor, Clorox, disinfectants, light verse, parody, satire, mrbtrump, mrbcouplets



What REALLY Happened
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump lied and lied and lied.
Americans died and died and died.



Grime Wave
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Donald Trump is ******* crime ...
unless it's his own grime.



Trump Love
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump "love" is truly a curious thing ...
does he care for our kids half as much as his bling?



Tangled Webs
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Oh, what tangled webs they weave
when Trump and his toupée seek to deceive!



No Star
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump, you're no "star."
Putin made you an American Czar.

Now, if we continue down this dark path you've chosen,
pretty soon we'll all be wearing lederhosen.



Raw Spewage (I)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump
is a chump
who talks through his ****;
he's a political sump pump!



Green Eggs and Spam
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

I do not like your racist ways!
I do not like your hate for gays!

I do not like your gaseous ****!
I do not like you, Crotch-Grabber Trump!

I do not like you here or there!
I do not like you anywhere!

Your brain's been trapped in a lifelong slump
And I do not like you, Hate-Baiter Trump!



Apologies to España
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

the reign
in Trump’s brain
falls mainly as mansplain



Stumped and Stomped by Trump
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a candidate, Trump,
whose message rang clear at the stump:
"Vote for me, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!,
because I am ME,
and everyone else is a chump!"



Humpty Trumpty
by Michael R. Burch

Humpty Trumpty called for a wall.
Trumpty Dumpty had a great fall.
Now all the Grand Wizards
and Faux PR men
Can never put Trumpty together again.



The Hair Flap
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

The hair flap was truly a scare:
Trump’s bald as a billiard back there!
The whole nation laughed
At the state of his graft;
Now the man’s wigging out, so beware!



Roses are red,
Daffodils are yellow,
But not half as daffy
As that taffy-colored fellow!
―Michael R. Burch



Trump’s real goals are obvious
and yet millions of Americans remain oblivious.
—Michael R. Burch



Poets laud Justice’s
high principles.
Trump just gropes
her raw genitals.
—Michael R. Burch



The Ex-Prez Sez

The prez should be above the law, he sez,
even though he’s no longer prez.
—Michael R. Burch



Quite Con-trary
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trumpy, Trumpy,
fat, balding and lumpy,
how does your Rose Garden grow?
“With venom and spleen
and everything mean,
and my gasket about to blow!”

Trumpy, Trumpy,
obese and dumpy,
why are your polls so low?
“I claimed I was Cyrus
at war with a virus
but lost every time to the minuscule foe!”



Piecemeal, a Coronavirus poem
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

And so it begins—the ending.
The narrowing veins, the soft tissues rending.
Your final solution is pending.
(Soon a portly & pale Piggy-Wiggy
will discount your death as "no biggie.")



Viral Donald (I)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Donald Trump is coronaviral:
his brain's in a downward spiral.
That pale nimbus of hair
proves there's nothing up there
but an empty skull, fluff and denial.



Viral Donald (II)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Why didn't Herr Trump, the POTUS,
protect us from the Coronavirus?
That weird orange corona of hair's an alarm:
Trump is the Virus in Human Form!



Red State Reject
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

I once was a pessimist
but now I’m more optimistic,
ever since I discovered my fears
were unsupported by any statistic.



The Red State Reaction
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Where the hell are they hidin’
Sleepy Joe Biden?

And how the hell can the bleep
Do so much, IN HIS SLEEP?



The Final Episode of Celebrity Apprentice President
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Ronald McDonald
said to The Donald,
"Just between us clowns, your polls are too low!"
So The Donald thought hard
then said to his pard,
"It's because I'm a martyr. The world must know!"
Thus Eric Trump jumped
from his obese Trump ****
to declare the virus a "hoax." (End of show.)



modern Midas
by michael r. burch

they say nothing human's alive
yet the Hermit survived:

the last of His kind,
clean out of His mind.

they say He relentlessly washes His fingers,
as dainty as ever, yet the smell of death lingers.

they say it sets off His corona of hair
when He blanches with fear in his Mansion Faire.

they say He still spritzes each strand into place
though there’s no one to see in that hellish place.

they say there’s a moral in what He’s become
as He fondles gold trinkets and cradles His john.



Mother of Cowards
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

So unlike the brazen giant of Greek fame
With conquering limbs astride from land to land,
Spread-eagled, showering gold, a strumpet stands:
A much-used trollop with a torch, whose flame
Has long since been extinguished. And her name?
"Mother of Cowards!" From her enervate hand
Soft ash descends. Her furtive eyes demand
Allegiance to her ****'s repulsive game.

"Keep, ancient lands, your wretched poor!" cries she
With scarlet lips. "Give me your hale, your whole,
Your huddled tycoons, yearning to be pleased!
The wretched refuse of your toilet hole?
Oh, never send one unwashed child to me!
I await Trump's pleasure by the gilded bowl!"




Toupée or Not Toupée, That is the Question
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

There once was a brash billionaire
who couldn't afford decent hair.
Vexed voters agreed:
"We're a nation in need!"
But toupée the price, do we dare?



Toupée or Not Toupée, This is the Answer
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Oh crap, we elected Trump prez!
Now he's Simon: we must do what he sez!
For if anyone thinks
And says his "plan" stinks,
He'll wig out 'neath that weird orange fez!



White as a Sheet
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Donald Trump had a real Twitter Scare
then rushed off to fret, vent and share:
“How dare Bernie quote
what I just said and wrote?
Like Megyn he’s mean, cruel, unfair!”



Raw Spewage (II)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump
is a chump
who talks through his ****;
he's a garbage dump
in need of a sump pump!



we did not Dye in vain!
by Michael R. Burch

from “songs of the sea snails”

though i’m just a slimy crawler,
my lineage is proud:
my forebears gave their lives
(oh, let the trumps blare loud!)
so purple-mantled Royals
might stand out in a crowd.

i salute you, fellow loyals,
who labor without scruple
as your incomes fall
while deficits quadruple
to swaddle unjust Lords
in bright imperial purple!

Notes: In ancient times the purple dye produced from the secretions of purpura mollusks (sea snails) was known as “Tyrian purple,” “royal purple” and “imperial purple.” It was greatly prized in antiquity, and was very expensive according to the historian Theopompus: “Purple for dyes fetched its weight in silver at Colophon.” Thus, purple-dyed fabrics became status symbols, and laws often prevented commoners from possessing them. The production of Tyrian purple was tightly controlled in Byzantium, where the imperial court restricted its use to the coloring of imperial silks. A child born to the reigning emperor was literally porphyrogenitos ("born to the purple") because the imperial birthing apartment was walled in porphyry, a purple-hued rock, and draped with purple silks. Royal babies were swaddled in purple; we know this because the iconodules, who disagreed with the emperor Constantine about the veneration of images, accused him of defecating on his imperial purple swaddling clothes!



Twinkle Wrinkles
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Twinkle, twinkle, little "star" ...
Trump, how we wished you blazed                 afar!

Twinkle, twinkle, Groper-Cupid ...
How we've wished you weren't so stupid!

Twinkle, twinkle, Man-Baby "president" ...
In truth you're just the White House resident.



Americans have the opportunity
to greatly improve their community
with votes a-plenty
in 2020.
Dump
Trump!
—Michael R. Burch



Joe Biden, Joe Biden,
our future is ridin’
on you defeatin’
and hidin’
that cancerous lump
called Trump.
—Michael R. Burch



The Perfect Storm
by Michael R. Burch

Stormy Daniels
is Trump's worst nightmare—
a truthteller,
a woman without fear,
full of *****,
unimpressed by his junk,
that he can't debunk.



Aftermath
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Carmen Yulín Cruz is a hero.
Donald Trump is a zero.



15 Seconds
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Our president’s *** life—atrocious!
His "briefings"—bizarre hocus-pocus!
Politics—a shell game!
My brief moment of fame
flashed by before Oprah could notice!



March for Our Lives
by Michael R. Burch

It's not a moment,
it's a MOVEMENT
created to save
innocents from the grave.



Tweety and Pootie
sittin' in a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G!
First comes love,
second comes marriage,
third barechested weasels in a White House carriage!
—Michael R. Burch



Three Trump Valentine's Day Poems

1.

If you're tall, blonde and pretty,
I'll grab your kitty.
If you're dark-skinned and short,
It's time to deport!

2.

I'll secure your southern border tonight,
as long as you're wearing white!

3.

If you're not
as hot
as my daughter,
beware;
prepare
for the slaughter!



Why did Trump endorse Roy "Score" Moore when Nostradumbass claimed he "knew" the Sludge Judge couldn't win? ...

Predators of a feather
flock together.
—Michael R. Burch



Kneeling Verboten
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Colin Kaepernick took a stand by kneeling;
now Donald Trump is reeling
as the NFL owners he implored
lock hands with the players he deplored.



How the Fourth ***** Ramped Up
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump prepped his pale Deplorables:
"You're easy marks and scorables!
Now when I bray
click your heels, obey,
and I'll soon promote you to Horribles!"



Trump Trumps "We The People"
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump fired Comey
to appoint a *****:
some pawn in his Kamp
with a big rubber stamp.

Out the window flew freedom!
Rights? You don't need 'em!
Like Attilâ the ***,
Trump answers to no one!

Do you think you have worth?
Trump makes you his serf.
He's your Lord and your Master:
you elected DISASTER.



Pass the Hat for the Fat Cat
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

If you're a Fat Cat,
vote for an Autocrat;
otherwise, stick with a Democrat ...
or get ready to pass the hat
for yourself,
doomed by that strange little pixie-fingered orange elf.



****** Assaulter-in-Chief
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Ronald McDonald Trump Bozo
bopped Bill Clinton Clown on the nose: “Oh,
I’ll trump your cigar
with my groping, by far,
when I bounce interns on my Big Pogo!”



Trump's Donor Song
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

(lines written after it became apparent that Trump is not
"draining the swamp" but stocking it with his crocodilian
donors and political piranha)

christmas is coming, the Trumpster's purse is flat:
please put a Billion in the Fat Cat's hat!
if you haven't got a Billion, a Hundred Mil will do.
if you haven't got a Hundred Mil, the yoke's on you!



Alt-Right White Christmas
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump's dreaming of a White Christmas,
just like the ones he used to know
when black renters groveled
or lived in hovels
while he laughed and shouted **-**-**!



*******
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump
Is a chump,
He’s an
Orange Heffalump.
His hair?
Made of batter.
His brain?
***** matter.
His “plans”?
A disaster.
His “position”?
Your Master!



Fool's Gold
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

THE DONALD has won (so we're told).
If it's true, worthless swampland's been sold!
But who were the buyers?
Poor folks who trust liars
and pay through the nose for fool's gold.



Bunko
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Agent Orange is full of bunk:
Tiny-fingered, he claims a big "trunk."
And his "platform"? Oh my,
I think we'd all die!
And he can't even claim he was drunk!

NOTE: Donald Trump claims that he doesn't drink alcohol, except when he partakes of Holy Communion. However, Trump insulted the body and blood of Jesus Christ when he spoke dismissively of his "little *******" and "little wine." He claims to be a Christian, but also said that he never asks God for forgiveness! Is he punch drunk or just pulling our legs about being a Christian?



De-Bunko
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

There's something I'd like to debunk:
the GOP's not in a "funk."
The Donald, by choice,
is its unfiltered voice.
Vote for someone who's sane, or we're sunk!



Fooling Around
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Ronald McDonald Trump-Bozo
cried, “Clinton Clown cheats with his yo-yo!
He plays fast and loose!
It’s clearly abuse!
Whereas broads love to bounce on my pogo!”

BTW, it's amusing that Rudy Giuliani is now Trump's surrogate, defending him from accusations of ****** assault and other improprieties by scores of women, when in a 2000 "Mayor's Inner Circle" video, Giuliani in drag had his "*******" schmoozed by The Donald, after which Giuliani slapped his face and called him a "***** boy." Obviously, Giuliani was well aware of Trump's reputation for grabbing and groping women without bothering to ask for their permission! Trump's outrageous behavior was a running joke among alpha males in his circle. In 1993, fellow bad boy Howard Stern asked Trump directly: “So you treat women with respect?” Trump answered honestly: “No, I can’t say that either.” And hundreds of chauvinistic public statements and tweets by Trump confirm that he doesn't treat women with respect, or minorities, or anyone that he considers "weak" or "overweight" or "unattractive."



Trumping Tots
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Things that go bump in the night
fill Herr Trump with irrational fright;
his brain hits the skids;
he shrieks, "Ban dark kids!"
Where's his self-lauded "courage" and "might"?
Is cowardice Trump's kryptonite?



Trump Explains Why His Hair Looks Like ****: It's Been Bleached By Drool
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

"Although my hands are quite tiny,
I have an enormous hiney;
so I stick my head in,
predicting I’ll win,
while everyone kisses it shiny!"



The Name and Blame Game
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

If you have a slightly offbeat name,
you'll be de-planed, detained, restrained, defamed.
Supremacists know pure white names are best,
so be prepared to prove you're among the Blessed.
(Woe unto those who fail Trump's Litmus Test!)



Trump the Game Plan
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

There once was a huckster named Trump
who liked to be kissed on the ****.
He promised awed voters
if they'd be his promoters,
he'd magically fix up their dump.

Now the voters were dreaming of Ronald
and hoping they'd found him in Donald.
And so, lightly "thinking"
after much heavy drinking,
they put out, as if they'd been fondled.

But once he'd secured the election
Trump found his fans cause for dejection.
"I only love tens!"
he complained to his "friends,"
then deported them: black, white and Mexican.

Thus Donald fulfilled his sworn duties
by ridding the land of non-cuties.
Once the plain Janes were gone
he could smile on his throne
surrounded by imported beauties!



Egad,
what a cad;
the Orange Heffalump
scowls when he sees
a baby bump!
Like the Grinch who stole Christmas
(but every day of the year),
The Donald eyes happy
mothers with a leer!
―Michael R. Burch

NOTE: Donald Trump actually body-shamed Kim Kardashian for having a baby bump, saying that she was "large" and ought to watch the kind of clothes she wears in public!



Donald Trump Campaign Songs

Christmas is coming!
Tycoons are getting fat!
TRUMP says, "Take a ****
in some beggar's hat!
Beat him to a pulp
then run him out of town
if he dares object to
the MAN with the GOLDEN CROWN.
And if you're not a Christian,
nothing else will do!
But if you're just like TRUMP,
then may TRUMP bless you!
―Michael R. Burch



SANTA CLAWS is coming to town!
He sees Spics when they're sleeping
and Blacks when they're awake!
He knows that Whites are always good,
but dark skin is God's mistake.
So if you're some poor orphan
with slightly darker skin,
BIG BROTHER will be WATCHING
all blacks and Mexicans!
―Michael R. Burch



Poets laud Justice’s
high principles.
Trump just gropes
her raw genitals.
—Michael R. Burch



Dark Shroud, Silver Lining
by Michael R. Burch

Trump cares so little for the silly pests
who rise to swarm his rallies that he jests:
“The silver lining of this dark corona
is that I’m not obliged to touch the fauna!”



Zip It
by Michael R. Burch

Trump pulled a cute stunt,
wore his pants back-to-front,
and now he’s the **** of bald jokes:
“Is he coming, or going?”
“Eeek! His diaper is showing!”
But it’s all much ado, says Snopes.



Mini-Ode to a Quickly Shrinking American Icon
by Michael R. Burch

Rudy, Rudy,
strange and colludy,
how does your pardon grow?
“With demons like hell’s
and progress like snails’
and criminals all in a row!”



Christmas is Coming
alternate lyrics by Michael R. Burch

Christmas is coming; Trump’s goose is getting plucked.
Please put the Ukraine in his pocketbook.
If you haven’t got the Ukraine, some bartered Kurds will do.
But if you’re short on blackmail, well, the yoke’s on you!

Christmas is coming and Rudy can’t make bail.
Please send LARGE donations, or the Cause may fail.
If you haven’t got a billion, five hundred mil will do.
But if you’re short on cash, the LASH will fall on you!

Keywords/Tags: Trump, Donald Trump, poems, epigrams, quotes, quotations, Rudy Giuliani, Ted Cruz, Cancun, Christmas, evil, democracy, coup, treason, treasonous, coronavirus, president, poet, poems, poetry, heroic couplets, couplet, humor, humorous, Clorox, Lysol, disinfectants, light verse, parody, satire, America



In My House
by Michael R. Burch

I was once the only caucasian in the software company I founded and managed. I had two fine young black programmers working for me, and they both had keys to my house. This poem looks back to the dark days of slavery and the Civil War it produced.

When you were in my house
you were not free—
in chains bound.

"Manifest Destiny?"

I was wrong;
my plantation burned to the ground.
I was wrong.

This is my song,
this is my plea:
I was wrong.

When you are in my house,
now, I am not free.

I feel the song
hurling itself back at me.

We were wrong.
This is my history.

I feel my tongue
stilting accordingly.

We were wrong;
brother, forgive me.

Published by Black Medina

Keywords/Tags: Race, Racism, Black Lives Matter, Equality, Brotherhood, Fraternity, Sisterhood, Tolerance, Acceptance, Civil Rights



Instruction
by Michael R. Burch

Toss this poem aside
to the filigreed and the prettified tide
of sunset.

Strike my name,
and still it is all the same.
The onset

of night is in the despairing skies;
each hut shuts its bright bewildered eyes.
The wind sighs

and my heart sighs with her—
my only companion, O Lovely Drifter!
Still, men are not wise.

The moon appears; the arms of the wind lift her,
pooling the light of her silver portent,
while men, impatient,

are beings of hurried and harried despair.
Now willows entangle their fragrant hair.
Men sleep.

Cornsilk tassels the moonbright air.
Deep is the sea; the stars are fair.
I reap.

Originally published by Romantics Quarterly


Published as the collection "Not-So-Heroic Couplets"

heavy head, ****** and tired sleep echoes through my corridor head. love, a treasure, buried deep within my x-marked chest; i stuck blades of grass in a picture frame, because everything else went away: like the cleaning lady outside my door, vacuum like a pet dog, pawing at carpet, grooming it with its soft, snuffly nose. mess cleaned and she went away. vacuum like a pet dog, hip-hugging, man's best friend.

lines in the bathroom, lines out the back. waiting and shaking with a crazy laugh filled with warmth like a smile radiating from my muscles. powder leaves the plastic surface, like the cleanin lady outside my door, and her sniffling, snuffling vacuum-dog. ****** into a ten dollar bill, with a whimper and a sigh, the pup hops away with its owner, the cleaning lady off to brush along some other fool's corridors.

on the cold steel, the train slows down, a mile out from the station. up hill, down hill, steam choking carriage, searching for thrill in the click clack, crazy rails of a cool powder train. in the bathroom crushing pills to get you up hill, down hill, with a steam choked carriage and that cleaning lady outside my door, she brought that dog, and he was barking real loud, makin' a fool out of me, in the bathroom of that click clack, crazy powder train. hands scritch' scratchin' on the white sheets, until in a moment, it all crumbles to dust, ridin' on the wind's back, leaving like they all do, like the cleaning lady outside my door, and that pet vacuum-dog of hers.

Dey can' make me ride no bus.
I'm tellin' you, dey can' make me.

You know, dey all riled up in dere,
since we started walkin' to work.
I's like dey finally startin' to realize what we can do.

I tell you, Yvonna, I walk three mile to work
e'ry day. E'ry day! Can you believe?
I walk all dat way in my heels;
oh, how my feet are blisterin'!

But I don' let 'em know, no, ma'am.
No, ma'am. I jus' smile like I got all deh
love a' Heaven on my side! Can you believe?
Yes, ma'am, I do. I do.

I get home e'ry day now afte' supper
'cause I can' take no bus.
I much rather walk dan sit in deh back, believe me.
But i's so sad, Yvonna, you know?
To see my chirren tryin' so hard tah cook for 'emself.
I feel bad, honestly.

My husban', he workin' so hard,
he almos' die when he come home.

We go to church, Yvonna, e'ry Sundy, you know?
Don't you, girl?

I pray. I pray dat all dem white people
will leave us alone. Alone, I say!
Dey all preachin' 'bout "We Da People"
'n all dat ****, well, I tell you,
we people too!
We may be black but I tell you,
I tell you, Yvonna, we God's people, too.

Yes, ma'am, we are.

Speak up, girl, I can' hear you.

Well, I guess it don't matter.
Ain't like nobody listenin'.

Nobody listenin' to a old, achin' feet *****.
Nobody but you.

Imagine a condition,
labeled a tradition.
Men on a mission,
to slay those who dissin'.

you were laid up in guadalupita
with camelia la tajena from la junta
and her tonto from la plata-
hiho-yo

shootin' tequila with pancho villa
jefe of the bandidos mc locos
- tweakin and twerkin chicas and cholos
and vatos ridin' with the vagos -

they were singing -

"con cuerno de chivo y bazooka en la nuca
volando cabezas a quien se atraviesa
somos sanguinarios, locos bien ondeados
- nos gusta matar"

you were kickin - breathing quickened
- bravo television tunnel visioned
to the tonto/pancho episode
en camera - exposed

pronto - camelia shot her tonto
dead - a perfect rose upon his head -
i like killin - she said

hiho-yo, tonto

we sang narcocorridos
all night long -

on the blue mesa.

r ~ 10/25/14

 *song excerpt from:
"Sanguinarios del M1” (Bloodthirsty Men of the M1)” (2010)
"Translation: "With “goat’s horn” (AK-47) and bazooka at our necks/Sending heads flying if anyone tries anything/We’re bloodthirsty, crazies deep in the scene/We enjoy killing..."

im with *****
Making millys
acting silly
im playing... our pockets empty and we smoking bleezy
selling acid
minds are gold never plastic
yeah we trappin never nappin
summer 13 *******, thats old news, no clue
nbs and fitted i dont need to boost
plain white t's, no j crew
this me, i never knew, killer kush, ***** im never blue
checkin ******* out, i always disaprove
ridin ***** with our one seaters
pop a heater if ****** being nosy call em peter
5'6 ***** eater wearing beaters never beat her but i beat it, so much head i need a breather
****** is talking puppets watching budget always cautious ***** ****** and they mullets looking stupid
floosy girls loose since theyre dad left theyre missing screws

well she could sit around all day
and rot her poetry this way
just put it all rot down and say
"I've done my rotten duty"
done let the cat out of the bag
done with the hairball that old nag
all gutsy green this rotten queen
just rode a rotten beauty.

she'll change the word to what it's not
and that ain't wrong, but it ain't rot
and just like garbage turns to ***  
and get's all down trodden
then long the rod, like rodeo
these words are ridden, time to go
so get the horse and don't be slow
you're right in time with ridin'!

We're ridin' errors then all day
poetic license paves the way
don't know quite where but that's okay,
cause it's our rot to ramble
and what this rutted road has got
is what the dusty novel's not
the long and short of every rot
is pure poetic bramble.

Brake-clutch-shift
Glance at the clock
It must be about... half-past-an *******
as I sit in traffic, idling, wondering

Glance at the clock
Could this be hell?
98 degrees, sure humid enough
and will this guy ever signal a turn
or find the gas pedal?!
No, of course not
His job in damnation is to torture
the sucker stuck behind--

--his cardiac appointment
his destiny at the grocery store
Half hour early
just to wait in line
to pick up prescriptions
to punch the clock at The Pearly Gates

He's out and about in his Ford Taurus
ridin' the brakes
touring the streets in sunglasses with blinders

“No Effn' blinker, Pops!?”

Twenty miles per hour
just inside the lines of

Turning me into the animal I am
in the depths

well she could sit around all day
and rot her poetry this way
just put it all rot down and say
"I've done my duty"
done let the cat out of the bag
done with the hairball that old nag
all gutsy green this rotten queen
just cut a cutie.

she'll change the word to what it's not
and that ain't wrong, it's all she's got
but just like garbage turns to rot  
the road untrodden
she'll long the rod, like rodeo
these words are ridden, time to go
so get the horse and don't be slow
it's time we're ridin'!

We're ridin' errors then all day
poetic license paves the way
don't know quite where but that's okay
our rot to ramble
and what this rutted road has got
is what the dusty novel's not
the long and short of every rot
poetic bramble.

-Lyrix

My Grand Dad was a Cowboy
They called Him Cowboy Bill
But to me He was Grand Dad
A cowboy for real

He lived His life
In a pickup truck
as He'd go from sale to sale
Buy them calves
when they's almost dead
Then He'd raise 'em
back to health

Cause He's a Cowboy for real
Cowboy and He always will
be a Cowboy still
He's a Cowboy
Cowboy for real

Thought a time
He would settle down
with a woman sweet and fair
Wasn't long and He was
on the road
and no one had to tell her

He's a Cowboy for real
He's a Cowboy and
He always will
be a Cowboy still
He's a Cowboy for real

Ridin' in to Abilene
Boots were shined
Hat was steamed
Thought He'd stop in
at the sale awhile
Talk with some
good ole' boy's He knows

Sittin' down and talking stock
Lookin' mainly toward
the bargain lot
Thinkin' maybe
He'd sit a spell
when He smiled
and grabbed His heart

Adios  He thought
and said good-bye
Mounted up
and took His final ride
The Lord He said
Cowboy come on home
The Cowboy He be ridin' on

Cause He's a Cowboy for real
Cowboy and He always will
be a Cowboy still
He's a Cowboy for real
and He always will

-R.

(D)
81

You enchanted the moon, didn't you?

Or bribed her?  Maybe you promised her a star or two?

She hunts me with Orion's bow, pacing behind shadowed cloud,

My celestial stalker ridin' low, warily wrapped in misty shroud.

She whispers stark and yet, soft as a breeze on an April afternoon,

Press on now, my pet.  You've done so well, we'll sleep again soon,

But we've a fortnight to go if we're to come full circle by month's end.

So many dreams still to sow... To reap those lupine howls once again.

She waxes and I wane, she mystifies with madness then soothes me sane.

Serenity to insanity, delirious depravity to moon-magicked majesty,

A cosmic clockwork cycle muddling my mind with lunar gravity.

She pushes me to righteous malice and pulls me to solstice solace,

She masters tides in her caprice, what hope has a malcontent apprentice?

You know I'm ridin' high,
You know I'm feelin' fly,
You know I'll be alright.

Here's a little Nugget on a pirate ship
sailing away to where all the pirate's sit
Give them a taste of this sleepy buck'a'roo
And by the way, I love you

Here's little Nugget on a itty bitty boat
sailing away through the muddy, murky moat
With little sleepy eyes and some mud on'is shoe
just remember that I love you too

There goes Nugget on his super duper raft
ridin' through the rapids going super duper fast
Closing his eyes and off he flew
and by the way, I love you

ridin' wild with the broken down trannies in zoot suits n' water pistols aimin' to capture the sun from ten feet underground i swear it's darker than my gut insides crawlin' around in the glitter and filth i caught me diseased wealth heartache and small pond fame i caught me a sugarless daddy and a stage name i caught me a gutter and a song but still i wonder  how to walk but i can sure sweet talk sssssssslither love

I like how you acted like you didnt notice me
What the **** is wrong with you, I got feelings can't you see?!
You make me angry nd you make me sad
Your the worst heartbreak I ever had
Do you know what you do to me? Do you even care?
We used to go everywhere
Ridin in yo whip
The bad ***** in your passangers seat
Your down *** chick
You always used to call me, just to see what I was doin
I miss that ****, so who the ******* screwin?!
Yeah I'm the jealous type, I guess you caught up to that
The way you treat me is so wack!
You said things wouldn't change and that you didn't wanna lose me! Your a ******* liar and emotionally you abused me.
But that's cool, cause I got my superman
He's always been by my side and does the things you can't
And one day I hope you meet him, the man who rocks my world
The guy who fufils all my ****** fantasies that I've had about you that never happend cause of you cause you didn't want them too!
Tired of feeling like a fool
Callin you, no answer
Texting you, a cancer
Hurts my muthafuckin feelings cause you don't care no more
Was once adored, by you
Now someone else wants to
I never should've told you my feelings
I trusted you to let me open up
My heart just won't shut up, it keeps flowing with hurt and pain
You hurt me so bad its a shame
And now I can't stand it when I hear your name

Doors opening
Doors closing
Doors opening
Doors closing
Better get there in time cuz you will miss your train
Confusing your brain
Making you insane
Time is the key to success
Making you blessed
Obsess tryna make it to my destination
Fabrication of reality
Doors opening
Doors closing
To my train that will take me where I wanna be
I sit as I ride
Tryna abide by the rules
Can't feel like I'm ridin on a mule
Put on the air
I wanna be able to enjoy my ride
Don't have people bothering me
This train has a collection of diversity
Controversy all the time
So I jus sit like a mime
Silent
As I listen to
Doors opening
Doors closing
Doors opening
Doors closing

I see ****** around me that just want the fame,
Want the attention doing **** but who am i to blame
****** fall in love with the pictures flashing possession they think makes them richer
You hear ****** rapping about the hood knowing when they lived there they tried their hardest to get out
Doing **** not thinking without a doubt
Now all they doing is spitting irresponsible **** out their mouth.
****** in the streets ready to shoot you just so they can write about you
Flashing weapons yelling bang bang when they were the same ones running away from the pistols from the **** they do
I'm putting all these fufu ****** on the spot acting brand new with their  baby mamas crying because the rent due
You ****** so contradictory getting these females pregnant and leaving knowing its your responsibility making you look like a humility
But yal don't care
Money is the motivation but you ****** talk about violence
But the same ones in silence
Following ****** because you need someone riding with you when you get jump
Same ****** you ridin with are the same ones that jump
I swear you ****** so lame and act like yal aint got a brain
But just know i'm the realest in the game , i'm my own motherfckin team
I may be a girl but i spit real ****,
Because you ****** know yall lines don't be ****.

-dpk

Let the beat meditate your noggin' joggin'/
ya memory til ya get Tired never gone Retire/
from this Game like **** **** James/
from Goodtimes i remember the Good Times/
when the world was Alive now everythings Concealed/
reality is nothin' but Joke children gettin' bad Yoke/
from generation to generation gets worse to worse/
weak pulse im seeing visions of the Hearse/
mind gone i need of a Resurrection but my Heat is my Only Protection/
cuz ****** be trippin' sherm dippin' tippin'/
in my Hood swangin' on 4 w/ vogues cool i Suppose?/
but don't know that blow ya Slang hurtin' the Nose/
of victims Cocaina is the Product from the Devil Intellectual levels are Doomed/
dumbin' us down with Indoctrination seems like our Destination is bein' in Incarceration/
but im gone continue to fight with my fullest might-

Endeavor too Clever ridin' through Stormy Weather can't Sever/
me from this **** i Spit/
too too real o so fine Lookin' for a fine Dime i can wife Mine/
but too many Single Mother lookin' too much Off a Brother because of another Brother/
who told them that he loved them just wanted To **** them/
and Impregnate them/
baby girl stuck at Home all Alone/
strugglin' to feed her baby but the Father ain't in the Presence/
so she Becomes hesitant/
sell her *** for Cash cuz Bills bout to take Clash/
hittin' Roof Top i Pause & Stop/
take a Quick Glance/
shakin' my head in Disgrace still wishin' for Amazing grace/
but it's Hard to knock the Grin off a Demons Face/Paper Chase is our Am Ambition/caged animal Subliminal Messages so ya Can't Comprehend/
no Boyz to Men but im steadily In Philly? rollin' a Phillie/
Blunt Hunt ***** pullin' Stunts/with two hands tied behind my Back Hocus Pocus/
Nigguh back to Reality im just Playin' G this is the Philosophy/
of Yosef don't Lose Focus/
pay attention cuz they waitin' for us to Fall & Gall/
and keep us confined in a Circle that me and you Can't See but im goin' to Remain Vigilant ya See...

Are you blind? Can you not see?
I do this **** without a thought
I do this **** so effort
Less - ly
Like an old man
sittin in his rockin chair
Sippin on some green - tea
Like I'm speedin down
The highway just free to be - me

Can you not see? Writings like an ***** and it functions like a heart - beat
Boom boom - strap your ***** in and find a comfy *** - seat
Boom boom - my writings all be formin when I'm walkin down the **** street
Boom boom -  Ima be lol'in as my fans line up - boom boom - for a meet n greet.

Do you finally - see?
Its like a mean grean hulkish transformation Ima straight beast.
I be smashing competition like
Michael Jordan - its a straight feast.
Hulk smash! Its a fine treat.
I be swishing all my buckets as they
All be kissin my - feet

It all comes without a thought and
Comes very natural- ly
like a virus - coursing through my veins like a musical dis - sease
Ima sneeze... Achoo!
And pass it onto others - as much as I - please. ***** freeze!
Ima infect the world with my
Musical. - ******

Now that I've laid my piece
While sippin on some green tea
While ridin so free
I hope you finally - see -
Ima straight beast.
Peace!

😂

Well I'm ridin through the crossroads
on a midnight jet black horse,
got my pistol cocked and my sabre sheathed
,but loosely as a matter of course-

In the past I could let my guard down,
but Tonight I must not fail,
I'm like Jonah riding in the belly of the beast
while Ahab takes aim at the whale,
screaming from Hells heart I stab at thee for hate I spit my last breath
but tonight's my night
the coin's just took flight will it be life or endless death?,
I'm a wanted man with a blackened name,
and the hunter's have my scent,
but it's my one true love who I've got to save,
so on her rescue I'm Hellbent.

And the hell in there is not a turn of phrase,
she's in the grip of Satan's kin,
and if silver and steel can't save her soul,
I'll trade my own straight in.
because Sweet Alice always warned me
'bout the company I kept,
but I ignored her wisdom and for my sins,
she was taken while I slept,
by a Hell spawned demon creature
straight from Lucifer's darkest dream,
and her sob of fear is all I could hear,
now I'm haunted by that scream,
and for 11 years I've faced all my fears
on an evil infested trail,
a Witch woman omen caster told me I could save her with the holy grail.

I turn to see the demon following me
thru the gloom and misty hail,
and for the thousandth time I curse my oath to quest for the holy grail,
but Sweet Alice needs me to be strong,
and so I must not fail,
*to face hell's hordes and save her soul I must find the holy grail

I know, that I am mostly untrusting,
combusting with thoughts and was lusting for the attention that I know I wasn't gettin'.  

But whatever this is it's not set in stone.  

I think it's getting close to the time where I find a new home.  
I've released all those those attachments that made me feel less than I was,
cuz throughout all the *******, I've risen above.  

I'll show you love, without you making the first move.  
Aint nothin to do but continue ridin' on my life groove.  
You're in or you're out, but that choice is mine 'til I know what you're really about.  
Potentially remove you from my doubts and travel new routes.  

What the hell is this a competition for, it aint fun.  
It's like you're keeping score but don't even know the numbers, with that I'm done.  
This isn't the first time and surely won't be the last.
The way you run from your problems...yeah you really are fast.  
Try scoping out your true identity and then you'll see what's really meant to be.  
I don't know what it is you can't see.  
I think it's about time you set yourself free.