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Mustafa Mars Apr 2013
I live in the birth of Nintendo vs Sony vs Sega
Trying to beat that high score in the Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat
Combat with a K
That innovative ****
I survived the destruction of Sega Dreamcast
As they became third party
And Microsoft took their place with Xbox and Ninja Gaiden
Alive from that old arcade
I live in the awing of the interactive Wii
And internet friendly Playstation 3
I also live in the original Mario Bros and Pac Man and...
Terminator vs. Robo-Cop
Yea
I bet you don't remember that one
Or Galaga or Excitebike
Or even that good old
Asteroid, space dodging, alien blasting
Spacce Invaders!
Yea, I'm from Nintendoland
No... Segaworld
Nah... Sony City
Nu uhn... Microsoft...
Can't even think of a place for that
I am from that video gamer nation
That fight, hack, slash, race, create, explore, role-play
Even play those insane sports
See I'm from that...
See, I am from that...
I am from that
Video gamer heaven descended
That has that powerful curiosity and love for that
Space Invaders!
No
That love for all video games
And that memory of the ****** game graveyard
Where E.T. now resides...
See, I'm part of the new gen
Trying to play Street Fighter 4, Final Fantasy XIII, Star Ocean
Saying "I go harder than you young bloods cause I played
Space Invaders!"
So, what era am I from?
I'm from the era of all gamers
Playing Space Invaders
Space Invaders!
I'm from the
"Game of the Year goes to..."
Mario, Tekken, Metal Slug
Namco, Sega, Bandai, Konami
All those companies that started as something else
But realized their calling was for our nation
Cause you see
I'm from that
Old school Nintendo
New School Wii
Old school Playstation
New school PS3
Old school Sega
New school Microsoft 360
I'm from a legacy that always succeeds in giving us dreams
That always seem to revert back to that
Old school
Asteroid, space dodging, alien blasting
Space Invaders!!!!!
For those who enjoy playing some video games.
Classy J Sep 2016
Friendships are easy to lose when you play competitive videogames, rage quits and pride on the line, and yeah that's when things get insane. Smash bros, tekken, street fighter, king of fighters and mortal kombat, the greatest fighting games to ever come out of game designers hats. Its magic man, its addictive like gambling, who is the best gamer and who is a noob that everyone be trampling. Gg bro, even though we don't mean it though, your not as good as us, compared to us you are nothing but a ***. Powning and owning all you suckers, PC or console gaming, either way you are bound to find some trolling little *******. Gamer life, and one aspect of the nerd life, but there is more to our expansive life. There are the: know it all’s who can reference anything and corrects everything everyone says, and if you can't keep up, you can have a nice day. Star trek and star wars, collecting action figures that are definitely not dolls, roll them dice boy to see if our clan survives going down the falls. Dungeons and dragons, role-playing in a fantastic fantasyland, joining clubs like board games, videogames, writing, reading or band. Make fun of us now, but in the future we could be your bosses, so think about the next time you say that were wasting time trying to beat a dark souls boss. Cosplaying and reading comic books, this is the nerd life man, relaxing in our snuggies and croc's. Don't judge us without getting to know us, who knows you might want to get on the nerd bus. On a mission like Frodo or harry, going faster than the speed force just call us Barry. Feeling lucky punk, riding over you like a monster truck. Nintendo, Sony, Microsoft, steam, Sega, and PC, may just be me but I love it all, I'm not picky I appreciate things as they are like Marvel and DC.  Go go gadget, hate getting stuck traffic, I'm not the killer, I'm as innocent as Rodger rabbit. Please Ed, edd, and eddy, don't need to cause a scene because that would be pretty petty. What's the sitch wade, better beat those bad guys that choose to miss behave even if it effects my school grade. Kids that watch Cartoon Network nowadays will never how awesome it used to be, shows like samurai jack, power puff girls, Johnny bravo or Dexter’s laboratory. Duck hunting, ****** tunes and chill binge on anime and the only slam-dunk we do is Denny's pancakes sorry Shaquille O’Neal. Pocket protecting fiends; not to good at puberty, man we spending it all watching reality kings. New beginnings, love seeing what’s new at e3 each year, except for waiting for that game to arrive, counting the days till it finally appears. This the Nerd life, I may have never got the attention of girls when I was young but who knows I may just find myself a nerd wife. I can't wait to show my kids all that I know, the circle of life man, now I have a new perspective on watching this kid of mine grow. Future hopes, future class blasting off into possibilities, nerd life man better build up my durability.
Cné Dec 2017
“T'was the night before Christmas ...”
and Santa was busy.
The reindeer were antsy
the elves in a tizzy.

The missus was tending
the ovens like mad
And turning out cookies
to make children glad.

The wood chips were flying
the sawdust was thick
The workshop was bulging
with toys from St. Nick.

Contractors from Sega,
Nintendo and Sony
Were working on games
(and a robotic pony).

Iphones and Ipads
(with virus removal)
Were packed in their boxes
and stamped "Elf Approval".

Last minute touches
were added with flair
While elf stylists tended
to Santa's white hair.

Elf tailors were making
some last alterations
To Santa's red coat
and his waist tribulations.

The weather was fair
as the weather-elf stated
The routes were approved
and departure was slated.

Bells had been polished
and harnesses buffed
While repairs were addressed
for the hoofs that were scuffed.

The antlers were festooned
with ribbons and bells
And the reindeer were covered
with elf flying spells.

The clock approached
midnight as Santa was seated.
The countdown began
as the flight crew was greeted.

H-hour neared
and the tension was growing.
Outside it grew cloudy
and then, began snowing.

But Santa just grinned
as the weather-elf winced.
"Don't worry, my friend.  
Our time has commenced."

For the weather was nothing
to Santa's conveyance.
His reindeer and sleigh
were immune to"delay-ance".

With a whirl of his whiskers
and a flick of his wrist
The reindeer were launched
in a flash of white mist.

And I heard him exclaim
through his teleport ray:
"ALERT TSA. Tell 'em
I'm on my WAY!"
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
war took mine, i was sold  playing tenchu
on level 6... just before i was to
assassinate this ***, and he practised all
his bow skill in private, then it was made public
by a ninja... i only completed final
fantasy 7
with a walk-through...
i hate the fact that i stuck to
the schooling narrative...
  but hose were the PS1 days,
those days are gone, gone gone gone,
bye bye gone...
                 the **** was that?!
an oscar for best actor at the gladiator premier?!
why isn't more gaming mentioned in poetry?
where is raziel, and the the legacy of cain:
soul reaver, and the story about how he
squashed his brothers:
dumah, melchiah, rahab, and zephon?
oh look: the geek in me!
                 100 years from a youtube video...
i'm bound to do the bristol d'uh and say:
i've never been to south america...
nor ever...
                        me go sort out this avalanche
if that's o.k. with you, hmm?
this is the thrill you get when seeing peoiple
play a reincarnation of gameboy,
i.e. candy-crush saga... if you moved beyond
the PS1 universe you won't get it...
if you remember PS1 games, you'll probably
remember SEGA and sonic,
and age of empires 2, and sim city 3000...
**** me! but you won't probably remember the
weathergirl... who was becky mantin
when this was written...
           odd, that little gray box of saturdays
and sometimes sundays, but definitely
saturday mornings...
                    it gone... and i don't feel like owning
an update of it, because games have become
overtly narrative prone, they only allow thise gameplay
that's too narrated... i switch on the console
and i want mario bros. calculator type of dynamism...
instead i get this really complex story
when i should be reading a book...
   no, really, when did gaming become so
****** engrossing that i try to become distracted by
brick walls?
           when did i or when didn't i take to playing
chess? well... when i started playing dominos
with 6 cigarette stumps and a black hardcover
philosophy book... maybe around then.
books i great, believe me...
but this nook of counter-arcade games?
i woke up at 9am as if about to go to school
and played that japanese fetish for hours...
so much if our culture in nearing the post-20th
century culture was axis... it was almost all japanese...
you can't take that fact out and replace it
concerning: god intervened at Giza and yawned
at chichén itzá...
because you would... still, i thankfully retired
from the gaming experience (when did PS2 come out?
i wanted it for about 2 years and still didn't
get it)...
    1998? 1997?
                      thankfully i get to mention computer
games like novels... SEGA mega drive?
yep, owned that.
                   and yes, i can cite an ATARI,
and ****, **** **** me!
   that original NINTENDO?!
              and that shooting mallard simulation
against a screen of televisions that could
still issue you with van der graaf static
   of "levitating" hair?
(when televisions were still 3D and played
you remnants of the big bang
       in televised black and white khrrr sound,
all dicta fidgety, like looking through the eyes
of a bluebottle fly)... or
    the original prince of persia?
     those two dimensional ferns rotating round and
round when approached in the original tomb raider?
oh forget the cone-****-madonna...
shaid the ish cream van man to shaun shoonery...
cheap ****: said the dead with charlie
at the head of their horde of entertainment's flops.
i retired from the gaming world though,
left it when PS1 expired...
and morphed into PS2...
           i'm half sad and half saying: i can understand
candy crush, because i can understand
the origin: TETRIS.
like i can understand why i can't do crosswords,
my father just said: even i can't do them,
the clues are all a bit of a wanking to comprehend...
it's as if they only based them on the thesaurus...
   we're good on sudoku though, that can be solved
without problems...
        i miss those games though,
i finished final fantasy 7 with a walkthrough
though... tenchu was also fun to complete,
crash bandicoot? anyone remember him?
           now for not faking it...
                                     i'm glad that's over,
i'd hate the gaming experience as i hate interactive
t.v. thesedays... all this pause and rewind?
  thanks to it i sometimes press the STOP
button when listening to the radio and wonder
why it just keeps running... oh right: this isn't
a c.d. transmission... funny though, the gaming experience
translated into t.v. really has made advertising
ultra competative or utterly useless....
   you just end up pausing before a break, and then
scrolling past the advertisers' airtime...
next thing i'll be buying is when they make
an advert for shoepaste.
Epic Monkey Nov 2013
(To my sisters and brother)

I will always miss …


Our sunset ending quarrels

Our never-ending teases

Christmas’ shared carols

Warm hugs

Through sweet gazes

The sarcastic smiling faces

The growing-up races

Revenge taking chases

Greed over goodies to be hidden

In unpredictable places


And I will always miss …


Competitions and crazy bets

Singing hilarious duets

Of made-up songs in the shower

This innocence

Of our childish humor

Screamed from a room to another

That art of tricking eachother

To cleverly stay in control

Or wrestling over the remote control



And I will always miss …

Decades of shared history

Amplified joy and divided misery

Bursts of laughter on old tapes

Creatively imagined games

Of whirlpools in drapes

And goalkeeper leaps

Random costume parties

Daily role-play stories

Sega sagas from dusk to dawn

Alliances and conspiracies


Sisters, my lovely sisters

Wise, you have become

Loving wives, caring mothers

Soon, you will become

Make sure your kids relive

What we used to live

Their uncle will make you proud

Just like you fill him with pride


Brother, dear brother

I secretly looked up to you

As I grew older

I kept resembling you

It doesn’t matter

If you’re a little far

Brotherhood’s a matter

Of unbreakable bond


And I will always admire, respect, love and cherish …
Every single one of you
Written last month.
My brother lives in another country and my sisters will both get married next year
Jocelyn Apr 2010
Where I’m From
I am from wires,
from electricity and TV screens.
I am from the dust covering the console.
(Piled high, thick,
It made me sneeze)
I am from the Sega Genesis
the Nintendo
Who has long been forgotten
amongst the shiny new games.

I am from controllers and memory cards,
From Mario and Sonic.
I’m from the ******* gamers,
And the once-in-a-whiles,
From You win! And Game over!
I’m from Thou saveth the princess
With Donkey and Diddy
And 10 cheats I know by heart.

I’m from GameStop and Best Buy,
brand new plastic and overheating console.
From the controller thrown across the room
To the memories,
bonding brother and sister.

In my closet is a box,
filled with old games,
scratched up discs
that will never again work
I am from these games
created before I was born,
born from the tree of electronics.
Original poem by George Ella Lyon. Done for a scaffolding exercise for school.
Hanson Yang Sep 2018
Born heavy as adorned many: objectivity lifts ready existance carried more steady with the fist than a switchblade as to fist crave: yall just manisfest id shame when you spit back like all my family here to spit crack bone in been gripped back when at grown taught to **** Macks;
I'm the R to the Mack Marck M heavy to my fam born carried since Nas dropped the bomb that Eminem levied in so to spit back, like ghost spittin the **** shittin at all emcees here to spit back:
only time you'd get a note outta me relative is when i'm posing for death: like tupac menacing his pelvis still for the ****** levy in neglection in pics wack;
i spit bone quick when it comes to being notorious in a jacuzzi playing sega and super nintendo **** be in disrespect to ever understand that i don't spit thick back.

i flow sick that before i flow spit that between to post ****:
I pose **** to even to boast fits forgotten what the Ohmegaus finds the rest as undereducated life in being in the sun.
Ghost spittin future written past to see all the conjugatives relative like ****** games on the run:
games on the fun like extension big sides as big sizes like chasing dreams again straight to the the sun is what we've become.

unfinished...

this ain't motherfucken games, and you know id through wish-epic
Born of Fire Jun 2014
The violet sky stood bashful against the dimming horizon. Stark trees sprang from the ground, flourishing in dots midst the blushing stars.

Street lights flicker on, reminding me of how mom didn't have to yell for me to come home, the lights whispered it to me, carried in the caressing breeze.

I'm reminded in the spring, of the day me and my friend ran into the pelting rain and jumped through puddles, soaking our bodies in high pitched laughter and impending colds.

I'm always reminded in the summer months, how everyone including myself, preferred water from the hose over water from the tap. Or how we'd run rampant through the field behind my house, screaming against the heat.

The broken sidewalk reminds me of the time when we all thought we were cool for trying to smoke cigarettes we stole from our parents.

I fell in love with patches of clovers more than that of a boy's selfish smile. I was more in love with the act of collecting lady bugs as pets rather than holding a hand pushed into mud.

I preferred shallow swimming pools over the small voice of a boy asking me if i had other friends like them. Or how the beam of the sun was better than the beam of a slender, pale face with blue eyes.

Blind and innocent children, we fell in love with things we could touch or splash in. We fell in love with the beautiful colors and characters in our favorite Saturday morning cartoons. When we weren't playing cops and robbers, we were lost in a world of SEGA and Super Nintendo 64. We were infatuated with a world that never altered, but our vision cleared of.

We were saturated in a time where our only big worry was making sure we got our recess time. And when the smog cleared we realized our biggest worry was making our parents proud.
And it seems that it should be the other way. We should be proud of the kid our parents raised.
But ultimately, the monsters under our beds became the demons in our heads.
And the kid your parents raised
slowly became the kid you wish your parents never had.

There won't be a day in my life where i wish i could fall in love with the sound of an ice cream truck, or the animals at the end of my bed again.
Coop Lee Oct 2014
the skull and spine of seventy seven men, extracted.
retribution far past putrefaction.
a pile of bones in the center of town, at the corner of washington
& rochambeau.
gather around.

           do you believe in the boogeyman?

a glitch in the darkness.
an echo of rage, high chroma bacteriophage.
every faithless father,
every sister spared,
every ritual sung just right, a brief blackout,
reconfigured pixels of outer night.

                     [bobby’s sega genesis awakens on its own]

thirty three years to the day, he
died on that suncrest boulevard, returned today just to say “hey.”

graveyard family tree and the moon.
first as a manifestation of electromagnetic phenomena
            in a videogame’s cpu. 1993.
second as a fully-fledged entity materialized via videocassette,
            hungry for pizza and pure vengeance. 2001.
third from beneath bedrock, the quarry belly baste,
            a body buried thrice, undead toxic tumescence,    
            a walking corpse heaving black plasma. 2020.

the sequel.
the son.
the spectral chosen one, he
rips out a throat or two, quite fashionably so,
a man about town throttled and disemboweled,
as friends and neighbors stumble and sprint to escape with their own godforsaken skin.
let the bone collection begin.
emerged in afterschool hallways to **** old classmates turned teachers.
emerged in afterhours offices to devour old buddies turned bankers.
emerged in the quiet dark homes of neighborhood flesh and folk.
blood soaked socks.

why? you ask, must all these people die?
vengeance?    no.
that was a lie.
he killed those people for a laugh
& that’s that.
La donzelletta vien dalla campagna,
In sul calar del sole,
Col suo fascio dell'erba; e reca in mano
Un mazzolin di rose e di viole,
Onde, siccome suole,
Ornare ella si appresta
Dimani, al dì di festa, il petto e il crine.
Siede con le vicine
Su la scala a filar la vecchierella,
Incontro là dove si perde il giorno;
E novellando vien del suo buon tempo,
Quando ai dì della festa ella si ornava,
Ed ancor sana e snella
Solea danzar la sera intra di quei
Ch'ebbe compagni dell'età più bella.
Già tutta l'aria imbruna,
Torna azzurro il sereno, e tornan l'ombre
Giù dà colli e dà tetti,
Al biancheggiar della recente luna.
Or la squilla dà segno
Della festa che viene;
Ed a quel suon diresti
Che il cor si riconforta.
I fanciulli gridando
Su la piazzuola in frotta,
E qua e là saltando,
Fanno un lieto romore:
E intanto riede alla sua parca mensa,
Fischiando, il zappatore,
E seco pensa al dì del suo riposo.
Poi quando intorno è spenta ogni altra face,
E tutto l'altro tace,
Odi il martel picchiare, odi la sega
Del legnaiuol, che veglia
Nella chiusa bottega alla lucerna,
E s'affretta, e s'adopra
Di fornir l'opra anzi il chiarir dell'alba.
Questo di sette è il più gradito giorno,
Pien di speme e di gioia:
Diman tristezza e noia
Recheran l'ore, ed al travaglio usato
Ciascuno in suo pensier farà ritorno.
Garzoncello scherzoso,
Cotesta età fiorita
È come un giorno d'allegrezza pieno,
Giorno chiaro, sereno,
Che precorre alla festa di tua vita.
Godi, fanciullo mio; stato soave,
Stagion lieta è cotesta.
Altro dirti non vò; ma la tua festa
Ch'anco tardi a venir non ti sia grave.
yokomolotov Aug 2013
Summer. bike ride. I’m a child. I live just outside of Churchill Downs in Kentucky. young in skinned knees, pumping a 10 speed in a humid southern town, dodging cracks in the side walk. it’s an old superstition and I still hold it. grass growing in tiny bunches, in cracks. sun peeling the skin. candy rotting the teeth. the city is so *****. the houses dilapidated like fallen, shambling drunks. paint crumbling. and my brother ate paint chips. someone called him *******. rusted cars, playing house. sedan clubhouse, an oven in July. garbage day, rummaging for toys. I once found Quik strawberry milk in the trash I consumed it, and later felt like ****. hot trash treats. cumulus cloud companions, balloons without strings, the heat over eighty degrees, friends none to speak. after school fight. kids claiming coitus in the elementary. country music blaring from a fake wood radio. I found the radio on the curb and was proud of my conquest. all the lyrics incoherent but somehow they resonated. riding bikes all day. no parents. busy, their marriages failing, lives changing. riding through the slums. the houses of broken homes watching me tiredly. boarded eyes. down steep hills. up plywood ramps. kids jeering from porches, throwing rocks, glass, anything. scribbled graffiti. the rain makes everything more loathsome, wet clinging grime.  the dirt sticks to everything. fingertip messages scrawled on cars. s.o.s. twenty foot Marlboro man towering above the block, faded, peeling, half his face gone. like a totem making sentry of the oiled trash, the houses and apartments nodding to demolition. meanwhile, the thoroughbreds are fenced off and protected like coveted family jewels. I stood at the fence and thought, that’s all Kentucky is to the world. just some **** horses. Now and Laters and candy lips stick, my front porch.  the house leans. a drunk on the curb mouth a gape and snoring. is that your dad? no he’s in the tavern across the street. he lives there and its always loud. angry sounding buses threaten to squash the spastic child cyclers as they clutch their Sega genesis desires. cleaning gritty fingernails, I learned that my math teacher was dead. her car she wrapped around an old elm or maple on Southern Parkway the night before. my dad signed me out of school and took me to see the spot where she died. on the asphalt a ripe red stain. did I make this up or was that real? death. learning about death. with cockroaches. the bug-man sprayed and killed your parakeet, Christina. it was stuck to the newspaper that lined the bottom of its cage. I recorded it chirping on a cassette tape. I remember running terrified from rusted sedans. dented and hosting drug addled predators in cut-off jeans, wet legs stuck to torn imitation leather seats. ***** glued them and fueled them. I fled with my flea bitten mongrel friend. fly eaten, **** making. my dog made a minefield of our backyard. in this backyard where every Derby I parked tourist cars, the ladies in fine heals, disgusted and wobbling around the turds, the mud. I stood squat, shabby and I pocketed their money. Kentuckians, that’s all we are; horses, chicken and the cluck, Thompson.
Deadly with method man.
My sentence a weapon man.
Destined with ninja presence.
Sega Genesus
Metal brand.
Like Sega and sonic.
Rocking pride. Like its upped
Its level and. Got colors
From wells.
That swell. With acceptance
For every man. And that ***** social intelligence.
Not just for privileged folks.
But the existence. Of different folks.
I crave hope in a sacred note
Sighed from my little mouth
As I let it close.
My mind is a rhyme. The antidote.
The back and forth.
Like the senators tennis coach.
I may relish the rest I wrote.
And develope a social scheme.
But mostly I'm developed.
Like chess matches. Between
Beethoven. And poetry
With explosion. On kettle black.
But the ***
Says its nose is clean.
Reproach. Is a roach.
That might survive. Post apocalypse.
So before we explode
Could I take my mask off
And craft some
Actual poetry
alex loya May 2014
I never wanna tell u
What I really wanna say
I'm just here too help u no need to runaway
My words are my best friends
That I won't ever chase
Wont beg for attention dont need u too stay

If you dont want
Break up that bond
Got it all wrong now u wake up all gone ..
Nothing is permanent
Just take my word for it
You'll be returning quick thinkin you learned new tricks
Not here to disappoint u but I have no choice
Notice destruction you cannot avoid
Lost in the noise flanted my voice
Traded my toys for songs I enjoyed
No one will help u until ur heart stops
Wat ever u know prove ur heart is on top
Ignoring the news while my art hopes for props showed u the thruth and u started too pause
Look at the view like a portrait that's rare
Looking at u becuz ur unware
Too late for mistakes no need too compare
Living day by day fully prepared
I'm not here too force
I just wanna help
Get lost in the course I keep hurting myself
Mission abort give it too someone else
Lying in court Dont know how I felt
This is what happens when your way too passive

Notice the damage no need 2 panic
Took off the bandage locked in the attic
Just like an addict look how I had it
On Automatic till it fell off a cliff
Last cigarette
Before hell gets dim
Hilighted the meaning
Gave u full emphasis
Lucidly dreaming
Dont need too remenis
Super nintendo sega genesis
When I was younger I couldn't picture this
Random world in tabu why keep
Locking eyes
One bite 2 her lip just too start up the ride ...
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
i was playing Sonic the Hedgehog  on Sega when this beat
            (smirk, the cool word, ha ha)
came out - i once said to a brief drinking
buddy on a bench in town that
i didn't like rap - didn't rap kinda ****
off poetry? quintessential 1990s summary -
in essence, it sounded just like that -
but no one really bothers Us3 - except the BBC -
rhymes to boom boom b b beat -
sentences expecting you to stand for
a minute's silence or a national anthem or
the presence of royalty for jokes -
oh yah - yappy puppy and mint fresh pomp -
sentences that seem so extraordinary
but being ordinary are nonetheless extra -
bounce bounce bounce - b b -
you choose your timing with the punctuation
marks on that one - the beauty of not recording
your poems? no one and everyone owns it -
it's as much mine as yours -
i was more Coolio than (before you think a white
boy trying to apt himself in culture -
more into John Coltrane than N.W.A. -
                more into Bunny Wailer than Tupac -
gangster jokes - never read of the Russians or
the Yakuza - no films about them, too scary -
or there's Frank Sinatra - ratted out, took to the Las Vegas
strip and sang his heart out)...
1990s were loads of fun - by the time 1999 came along
with Prince's anthem not resounding with the fireworks
i was, what? 14? but i remember - or maybe it's
the child-effect - you can sense a crispness to those years -
for however-many hours the song was tip-of-this-iceberg
and the tickling of the tongue - had to go among
some obscure internet forums to get an answer -
black boy raps, white boy sings opera -
black boy runs 100m under a 10 seconds - white boy swims
100m under 47 seconds - that's positive discrimination
that is - better embrace our differences and STATE WHAT
THEY ARE than in secret keep a wasp nest of jealousy -
it's a bit ****, i know - but after two weeks in Kenya
spent mostly under the shade of a canopy, drinking
my way to a serenity i just kept thinking of Scandinavia -
best part of Kenya? sitting on a balcony feeding
macaques sugar and other things - to the grave:
that shock-look of the macaques - eyes wide open as if
injected with a kilogram of caffeine, the open mouth
O, the sound that came with it - a great ~Aposematism
(can't be bothered to look for an exact word,
this one will have to do, otherwise the waterfall is
not waterfall, and i still haven't made my intended point) -
that's when i realised Darwinism was a bit unnecessary -
sit on a balcony with two wild monkeys,
it won't really matter peering at them with a Galapagos
micro or telescope - that sort of thing breaks the chill -
yeah, a wild monkey, not a zoological monkey -
i mean a free monkey, not a fraudster or a thief or
murderer - a free one - and historically speaking
there's a certain absenteeism behind Darwinism -
a certain attempt to rewrite history - Darwinism is more
or a problem for historians than theologians, i'm
look at the timescale - going back to a chaste beginning
will not wash away all the **** in between.
oh right, the main point... the reason i said that opera
should not be sang in French (or English, but i'll have
to be biased and put Handel's Messiah as satisfying) -
is because it's spoken beautifully - some languages have
that characteristic - some languages are not worth
the opera - German is beautifully sang operatically (Mozart
was right on that one), as is Italian - and the only reason
being they're not exactly languages that are beautifully
spoke - Spanish is also a contender to join these two -
immediately it probes the ears - French speak and the English
too so beautifully, going beyond mere folk-song or
rock castrato is suicide - you'd think that excess French
spelling and the unspoken rule of gobbling letters from
being said, as what the English do slightly less would
aid the sometimes undecipherable operatic - but it doesn't -
opera in German and Italian sure, French and English?
what a tragedy.
Kida Price Jun 2014
Doom and gloom
You would assume.
Jaded to a fault.
Hate my parents
Hate my life
Blah blah blah
But on a sarcastic note,
There are things I feel
I should inform,
This society of faceless prose,
I'm actually quite unoriginal
And awkward as far as I go.
I fall a lot
I laugh even more
I'm obsessed with a lot of musical scores.
I can draw and play stringed wood
I'd love to dance...
If I only could.
I love the elderly
And the habits they keep.
I love little kids
And the way that they creep.
I'm prone to an unexpected collapse
Of thoughts and rationality.
The color red
Tickles my fancy.
Mac and cheese is a classic dish of mine.
Cheesecake makes my sweet tooth rot.
And I think three toed sloths are out right FINE!
No, they really are! Check them out.
They're my spirit animal without a doubt.
I like to look up cats on YouTube.
And I'm obsessed with SEGA genesis too.
I enjoy a good calorie burn
If it means getting off the couch for the tv channel to turn.
I'm not fat but I'm not thin
I'm too lazy to notice if that smell is coming from me or the trash can.
I don't like mirrors or olives that much.
Brussel sprouts are also included in that bunch.
I converse with myself until I get caught
By people thinking I'm talking to them
When I'm not.
Disney movies, **** yes please!
Favorites are hunchback of Notre dame and Hercules.
Sandman comics and Calvin and Hobbes
Are written in my nightly dreams.
Don't like coffee and I don't like tea
But red bull makes my eyes twitching.
Vanilla is my favorite smell.
I don't like chocolate all that well.
I talk too much about nothing at all
And when it comes to love,
I love to fall.
5'2"...yes I'm shorter than you
I'm well aware of it when reaching for things too.
I dye my hair and cut it myself.
It took a lot of bald months
To have it this fancy and lucious.
I get a lot of looks while driving the scene
When a baby doll like me is blaring slipknot, Metallica, pantera, or coheed.
I'm nearly 25 but look 17
And I still have a soft spot for shel Silverstein.
Neil gaiman is my main man to read
And his wife, Amanda Palmer, has created my favorite music scene.
I used to wear a lot of black
Until I graduated high school and said
"The hell with that."
Colors aren't as bad as all of that.
I like my knives and my stuffed animals just the same
Strangers things I'm crazy
Crazy people think I'm sane.
I'm a hippy as far a fashion dreams
Bell bottom pants and worn out band tees.
I have more guy friends than girls
And I think it's getting me in just as much trouble.
I thought I was gay once
But japan made me sure
When approaching a drunken *******
I couldn't even touch the guy or the girl.
So I declined, my eyebrow confused and creased
Turned that ******* into a twosome
And left them in peace.
I design tattoos and have a few of my own
Based on comic books as my arms would show.
I'm a bit of a nerd but there are worse things to be
Now you know I'm kind of perky
Do you still like me?
Harsh Jul 2017
I had this notion of wanting
to be more like oldself–
not more like myself, because myself
has become too sad and too hurt;
I remember oldself being so much more.
But where does one look for one's oldself?
It's not like I just hanged it out to dry
or hung it up on the wall next to a poster.
No, oldself has been scattered and beaten,
tossed along the path of nostalgia.
Bits of oldself linger among
sketchpads and sneakers, SEGA
and Lego sets and Star Wars.
It's back there with s'mores and scouts
and bonfires and books and
the belief that the big, blue world
was a place where dreams came true.
Oldself thinks that optimism
is the only option, myself makes a
note to self: that matter mostly
isn't true, as a matter of fact.
I can't always see oldself, it's buried
beneath six feet of dirt, gossip and rumors;
there's tons of stress and anxiety weighing
on its chest, dressed in a halcyon suit.
Oldself never used to worry
like myself does so often nowadays
but he also couldn't sing like myself can.
He had a wilder imagination than
myself could ever conceptualize,
yet I've exceeded so many of the dreams
that oldself had for my future self.
I often think to myself: what would
Oldself think if Oldself met myself?
And although I may not have turned out
exactly how Oldself envisioned myself,

I've grown and learned from Oldself
and now I'm proud of myself– a place
that my old self never thought I would be.
aiyo i stay with more muscle
than schwarzenegger
alpha and omega still play sega
high as ****
roll chocolate thai dutch
push a lexus manual clutch
what?
the **** is all the hate about ?
is it because i got clout
and i watch the birds fly
in the sky high as muthafucka
enticin' cluckas
to my **** cuz it hits
harder than mauseberg wear baggy jabos and iceberg
yea im half human half cyborg
and if you hater you can embrace the morge
curious as george
hear a knock on my cells door?
who could it be could it be?
my conscious layin' prophecy
to me true emcee
last of the Mohegans don corelone of this rap ****
and i aint gone stop gettin' lit
switch roll.another one
stay blazed stronger than sun beam rays
and shake my head but the high still stays
as i get. ..high! !!!


h im seeing illusion
got my brain in confusion
almost had a contusion abusin'
my brains cells is lit oh ****
i envision of me in a casket
though a *******
i stay true to the game lite my flame who got game?
my shot vicious as Ray Allen
this aint no love ballad
toss my girls salad no ranch dressin' while yall stressin'
i sin but still catch blessin'
my smith n wesson
stays by my pillow
paranoid as ****
every after ya bucks cant clutch
on the realness my skills
puff puff pass then i hit the gas
on the highway speed out
round my homies cuz we about
to get our chips in **** in
end all foul ****** that was never down from the beginning
win some lose some far from dumb
and if ya wanna test yo manhood
we'll make ya body numb
Em MacKenzie Apr 2019
I remember the “reset” button
on my Sega Genesis
and my N64 as a child.
With a quick **** of my hand,
all my mistakes, and problems
could be solved.
I’d get a fresh start,
a new chance to win what I lost.
Almost every single day
I wish for a “reset” button on life.
Instead, I’ll have to settle
for an incomplete game
with achievements unlocked,
with no extra content,
and the lowest of low scores.
BLitZeD Feb 2016
Like Sonic to rings, the lord in Genesis, Sega eclipse
Casting dreams brings menacing Revelations, Omegas list
Hatching schemes late in the game, levitation's a *****
Matching extremes, screams pleasure in pain. Yes sadists exist
Exits bared and shackled, your gana take these hits.
The bars twisted contraptions you'll loose your dignity in
Sacrifice you to the gods, a Christians virginity sin
Mage practice in the dark, art is this Magik. Black eyes are raised.
Raised are eyes, Black Magik, this is art dark in the practice of a mage.
Kyle Dal Santo Sep 2017
The sweat soaked pillow keeps me awake
Insomnia is a disease
"You're not wasting it all,"
"you haven't wasted it here,"
You repeat them over and over
but the song doesn't catch
not even you believe it anymore
not even you think the joke is funny
not even you can fix this mess
A part of you wants to watch it burn
And if you could speak with sober you he'd agree
Getting clean is easy
staying clean is something else
And you can't hit bottom
if you can't get off the floor
I've become a mess of a dream
a series of moments that don't make sense
and always leave me confused.
These tired eyes have seen so much already
some days I wanna close them for good.

You know it's the right choice when it hurts
Each step away stings a hundred times
The higher you go, the slippery it gets
The crown is always heavy,
whether its gold or lead
one just looks prettier
both will sink you to the bottom,
both will dent your head
neither sets you free

Freedom lies within they say
but even freedom costs too much
I'm not living paycheck to paycheck,
I'm suffocating in between
drowning in an ocean of freedom
the world's a slave trade
chained to a roller coaster,
with no seat belt
the ride is broken
and you knew it getting on
And if you can't come up with the money?
don't you worry, they'll just charge you more lol
This world is a rabid dog
that forgot what you look like
And the key to your dreams
is tied to its collar.
And this is as good as it gets?
We're the lucky ones?
Jesus.
If there (is)was a god(s)
What ****** up sega game are they playing?
And why are you still a fan of it?
Kyle D.
Smooth is the name I go by
F to e to the s o to the Y
Spelled it backwards now flip it forward
You get Yosef the most explosive
As a land mind in contact get off the bozack
Emcees these days so wack they lack
The skills to pay the bills and in the high hills
Got girls from USA Peru Somoa and Brazil
So haters chill as I lay a cut to another mill
Made while y'all played I keep it slayed
To a ****** ya never heard of a
Brother silky as me next to the BIG
Daddy Kane
Blessin' ya with lyrics cuz I be the originator
A Smooth operator


Grindin lyrics from the factories of my mind
That flash like a nine fast time no rewind
As I incline others decline smooth the line
Count ya steps carefully when you approach the bassline
The sweet taboo like Sade ya love me
Soldier of love all of the above
No haters allowed seek out in the crowd
Once the Microphone touches my hand watch em get loud
No party poopers quick to scoop ya
Out the scene where's my vanilla chocolate ice cream o yea
Slide ya like a fader the operator


The flavors looking good and there I stood
Between all the honies different tastes of the beauties
Shakin' bootys got the style so ya know they won't loose me
Lyrics soft as silk but cut like a ribbon
As make the mental incision
Shadow of a glare no truth or dare
Its big Yosef coming from the rear
The extraordinaire
My dear the one and only real playa
Others is custom so they downgrade ya
Classic as Sega clawed like Vega
Cuz I be a Smooth operator
nvinn fonia Jan 2023
hum this is it then it is one off those days when i feel like i m the happiest man alive that is what a family,,,,,, ps emulators ,,,, Nintendo,, sega,,,, andd linux ,,,,, andd a room off your own can do to you
I stack poems high
Past the sky so why lie
I braille third eye
No need to take a sigh
Never was down the evol Messiah
Put out the fire
Once I became replenished with water defintion of slaughter
I'm bound to nature styles create a
Soul sound debater slow cruise like an elevator
Sniff out spectators they advance me greater
Play you all like classic Sega
Genesis the new nemesis sending this
Poem in ya ear so don't dismiss
Or diss cause you might miss
The rhymes of a great lyricist
The poems that light up like a Christmas
I got writes to rite ritual it's habitual
Prime Animal far from a cannibal
Cold blooded mammals
Got ya back arched harder than a camel
We got ammo to go so sit back enjoy the show
Cold as snow mixed with nitro
I got sixty seconds on the floor
Raise eyebrows so you know how
My styles be similar to Owls
Head twistin' got ya own spirit kissin'
Pay attention and listen
I toast to christening but then again
Stay close to enemies
I feed em well ***** So they tell
On themselves swell
Their heads til it goes stale
Sips of holy grail so I don't fail
We ship more posts than mail
Gang of cartels who livin well?
Yo it ain't hard to tell
My poems you love 'em
Wait that's evol but that's the words told paying toll
I didn't want to do it you blew it
Rap Super Saiyan
Ignore ya rhymes like what you sayin'
Poetic slayin'
Til the day that I die
I'll be spittin' multi's
Some question my tactics
Cuz I react quick
Leave critics with open backs split
Now you in deep ****
******' wit a soldier
Been trained for combat
I'll never back back
Down smackin' rounds
In the adversary
Of a clown I get around
Can you me comin
Naw but you see them techs hummin'
My verbal arsenal take it personal
So don't be a sucka
Or else be digged like a shovel
Still beatin' devils outlaw immortal known rebel


So they wanna silence
Me but can't touch me
Cuz of my lyrical artillery
Adversaries see the cemetery
Can't stop watch ya can't see
I be the born leader of the century
Rap revolution pistol in place shootin'
Hearts I'm lootin' and bootin'
Out spectators to haters
Ain't none greater a genesis like sega
Alpha to omega
Soon to break ya gats shake ya
Into a cold corpse of course
Check the quotas
I leave minds sizzlin' like sodas
Fools thought i was demised
But don't know
I been trained a combat soldier
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2022
i don't remember being this nervous in a long time:
not that i should: well... i should be...
long gone are the days of Jack the Ripper
or for that matter Samuel Little...
                      take such lengths to enact revenge on
prostitutes? slim pickings... they're the one that
will get any man "laid":

let's face it, i'm not a Westerner, i have more Russian
and Oriental inclinations than any Westerner:
who were the last defenders of European paganism
i.e. of Lithuania? the Polacks were...
i have more akin to the Islamic world since
the Northern Crusades were staged near "my" peoples'
vicinity... if it wasn't the Lithuanians
it was the Prussians... funny: how the Prussians
became the dominant force in German politics
(after their forced conversion)...
    a little bit of history...
      
i'll be on the forefront of the complications of a rise
in living standards, sorry: cost of living standards...
i'll tell you when it becomes unbearable...
how will i know? well... if litre of whiskey goes
above £16 / £19... then life will become difficult:
i'll have to cut down: until that happens...
oh... and if she starts charging me more than £120
per hour... well i figured the dynamic of the brothel
a few months ago when i started earning decent
cash... rather than saving it up: incrementally...
that's why i work: to spend the money on prostitutes...
who else is going to keep the economy going?
you can't exactly keep the economic model going
solely on: whiskey, vinyl records... oh... socks that
need replacing... shoes that need replacing on the verge
of falling apart... trousers that need replacing:
chemical paraphernalia: shampoo etc.

   how many nail clippers do i need? for ****'s sake?!

summer is "officially": thank god for that!
the cold, kühl, die kälte: CHŁÓD!
it's in the air, come morning and come evening:
and all throughout the night... finally!
i missed it for almost forever: the almost eternal
night has finally lifted up her skirt and spread
her legs: next on the "menu": the frost...
MRÓZ! unlike English: other languages have
nouns that are of either masculine or feminine nature...
this "trend" can be found in English: but it's rare
and by rare i also invoke the verb: forced into
being attributed a masculine or a feminine tendency:
most nouns are gender-neutral: neuters....
the sun is a he, the moon is a she... the earth is a she...
nature: by definition is a she, i.e. mother...
maybe that's why there's this neo-Marxist "revolution"
taking place in the English speaking world...
"grammar revision": fanatical pronoun sects...
there's more to language than the veneer of shouting
down one's opposition...
i just can't wait for the frost:
the paparazzi glitter of flashing diamonds
on the pavement when the magnolias start blooming
in mid to late February...
i used to roam the streets at night looking for the earliest
signs of spring...
i think i'll pick up on my most favourite of pastimes...
walking, drinking into the vivid night...
alone: best alone...
footsteps as the echo of my thoughts...

but of course i'm nervous...
   i just spent £50 on lingerie at Anne Summers' yesterday...
i walked in cool as a cucumber (sorry,
cliché, unavoidable, sometimes)...
and started talking to this mouse of a girl: nerdy looking
thing... i said to her something along the lines:
she has your complexion...
olive skinned... Turkish... she could pull off Pakistani
or a higher caste of the Raj...
Spanish? eh... i like AQUAMARINE...
each time i asked her for directions she guided me:
what would you like?
come to think of it: if all she gets are transvestite perverts
that want to wear **** lingerie...
i must have been her first genuine customer in
a long while...
i just stopped caring...
               while we were trying to figure out the measurements
she sent me: 36B... i looked at 36B...
you know: i think she's exaggerating...
she's much smaller...
the 36 might be right but the B?
i was abstracting her breast in my hand...
no... not a B...
obviously still talking to the girl helping me out...
******? she showed me a pair: again i abstracted
me slapping that fine piece of ***... yeah...
seems about right... tights' suspender belt:
oh: very much necessary... colour tights? WHITE...
with that complexion black would ruin it:

which is why i never understood why Muslim
women never rebelled against Muslim men...
why... a black niqab? why a black niqab / hijab...
and why something so horrid as polyester and the likes?
why not white: and linen? breathable material?
**** it: wear your "pride of a religion that
was started with the birth of Isaac by Abraham's
concubine... running up and down two mountain
ranges"... or how the story goes...

once upon a time Islam was the envy of the world...
Averroes (ibn Rushd) & Avicenna (ibn Sina):
i actually own a copy of the latter's Book of Wisdom...
in it there's this pseudo sudoku schematic... fun read:
but i mean: Islam used to be the envy of the world:
now? with the decadent Saudis it's a ******* cesspit
of degenerate thinking: or rather: not thinking...
it's a bit like the story of Poland:
Poland never had a truly competent steward...
caretaker... not really: well: if you invent a *******
monarchial system based on: electoral monarchy:
sure, the noblemen elect the new king:
but! but... the king is a foreigner and not someone
of your own flesh and blood...
just like Big Brother Swede attacked Little Brother
Swede in the acts of the Deluge:
mix into the cocktail the Turks...
spice it up a little with some Russian paranoia
and then top it off with a cherry akin to
the Cossack rebellion: what nation will survive
a four-fold threat?!
mind you: the Hebrews might have played a sly
hand in undermining the Polish-Lithuanian
Commonwealth:

yes yes, i know... on the Western World is allowed
to have a history: us Eastern paupers are without
any historical motive, or, ancestry...
but Western historiology is a husk of its former self...
self-deceptive: it has been allowed to pass into
the hands of people who know very little but
say: a bit too much...
in the department of historiology who else to read
up on if not Heidegger: the man was obsessed by it:
because historiology is not journalism...
journalism is a bad joke with poetry being
the worst joke: given the span of time...

tongue in cheek...

but not today! what the hell! i wish i could be a philosopher
through and through... but sometimes the most idiotic
"thing" catches up to you...
today.. seriously?!
i do know that having unprotected *** with
a *******... actually: ******* into her has consequences...
but... i don't remember anyone scratching my
phallus...
SUCCUBUS... i swear to god...
someone is ****** jealous that i bought this
******* lingerie... toned downed pink...
now i'll go to the brothel and try to explain to her:
yeah...

what? my cat done it? i know that i drink
the worth's of 3 men's capacity...
but that's why i write: so i don't black-out
and don't forget anything... which is why i drink
and write to begin with: i need to write something
truthful... i'm done with stupid lies
and inhibitions: the ugliest truths: come, to, the, fore!

like the last girl: because she was a girl back then:
she's still the same rich brat, girl she was back then...
the last time i bought **** lingerie for a girl:
she was, absolutely: un-fuckable...
body-wise? fine fine... but face? ****** dreads...
three piercings in her lips: all crusty and... ugh!
i'm lucky with this one, tonight...
i'm shaking with thrill, with delight...
i'm hot in the cold i'm feeling:
pseudo-Parkinson's disco dancing while i type...
ooh! yeah... now i'm feeling it...

never once used a dating app: i figured:
there must be a clarifying barrier between men
and women... a transactional barrier:
but hell... if the western world has such high standards
to eat an oyster or some: ****...
good luck...

i'm borrowing a concept from the Orientals:
well... "borrowing":
if it's not going to be the brothel then it's a quasi-
ラブホテル (rabu hoteru)...
it's ******* ridiculous:
you are only expected to get "laid" if you
have the sort of social standing as an old man...
no! no!
me, get a mortgage first? get a car?
what the hell happened to the pre-baby-boomer
fun-**** party?!
i'm going to have one myself, **** the older generation:
if they could desecrate their heritage:
they: clearly didn't give me much to work with!
Ginsberg drug induced poetic *******!
Ginsberg is no ******* Aldous Huxley!
me? i'm just going to brush this little bit of "interest"
then shower and then pamper myself
and then walk into the night like either
shadow or ghost and lay the lingerie on the altar
of her naked prettiness...
why? because: i can....
   and i will feel richer than any man who has to
swing round getting a piece of ***
for being short via the acquisition of a house on
a mortgage: why? BECAUSE, I CAN!
i am freed from the bondages of societal
unrealistic expectations! i just don't give a ****... i just ****...

it would be ridiculous otherwise:
just to get "laid"... i would have to, do what?
what's expected of me?! what's expected of me?
father ******* children or leftover children?
like ****... i'd have to own a car?!
in London? pointless: i have two bicycles...
put up with a mortgage?!
rent with a bunch of losers who would complain
should i bring a fancy one-night-err?
sure... i'm a "loser" still living with his parents:
but i'm the steward of the house:
i cook i clean... i pay for food and chemistry (shampoo)
but at least i'm not renting:
do you think my parents will be entrusted
to a care home of abuse?!
but i still need to ****! like i need to breathe and eat
and: finally! ****! stop it!
i shat further than i can see with all the juxtaposing
nerves at the prospect of seeing a woman
i love ******* in **** lingerie...

i'll just text her and tell her i'm coming with
her 17th birthday present...
she's no 17 year old: i think something clinical must
have happened to her at 17 when she discovered
she enjoyed ******* so much:
like i enjoy ******* so much...
i know why i enjoy ******* this much...

two pivotal events... well... three...
i'm a first generation immigrant to these shores:
hence, i still retain my mother tongue...
unlike those 2nd generation "desperados" with their
supposed "heritage": England failed them...
i can see it plain as day bound to the shadow
blinding the depths of night...

1. i started ******* early, of my own accord...
8... those stories of geniuses composing
symphonies so early: me? i was jerking off
too early... prematurely: long before i had the capacity
to ******* any *****...
so? well... the living arrangements where less than ideal...
mother, father, me... in one room for about 2 years...
a house filled with migrant men working
for their families back home: i was already familiar with
*******...
i was having a bath with a boy of the owner
of the house: a Jew and a ****** woman...
mother was ironing some shirts in the background...
an uncircumcised **** teaching a circumcised ****
the pleasures of *******...
i told him: you stroke it long enough:
you'll get this "funny feeling"...

2. playing Sonic the Hedgehog 2... on my SEGA...
looking back... seeing my father perform oral
*** on my mother: through her *******...

3. this one is a bit "traumatic"... we were on holiday
in Bourthmouth...
i remember him buying her a pink dress so she might
look like an English lady...
taking a photograph with the Red Arrows outside
of a jeweller's shop: showcasing wrist-watches...
i was wearing a green and yellow NIKE tracksuit...
we were sharing a single hotel room...
i went to sleep eating M & M's...
fell asleep, they went out...
i woke up in the middle of the night to the sound
of *******...
i was lying in the same bed as my father was *******
my mother...
after they finished i pretended to just wake up...
i called out to "mother dear"...
she turned around already hot from the sweat
of ******* and "cuddled" me back to sleep...

ergo?
why do i visit prostitutes?! well... d'uh!
i'm a ****-wit! i'm mash potatoes!
no wonder! my mother saw the potential in me
when she saw me teach another boy
oh so innocently how to *******: she decided:
better elevate this ****** up!
that's the whole point of my drinking and my writing!
i need to show man the ugliest of truths:
so there won't be any
"faking it": nothing human is alien unto man...
this should be the first lesson...
better this: this shamelessness than some cowering
inhibition spilling into a profound violence
(against the opposite ***)...
no no: THIS... first!
this nakedness, first!

you die by a quest of: curiosity?!
just asking: perhaps... you should have.
Once my rhymes lit minds get injected
Then subconsciously respected check it
My flows will strip ya mentality naked
No thoughts to shed bloodshed every verse that's read
Enter into a dark valley Chambered by the alley
Of death til I touch my last breath keep the pistol to the left no thefts
Could rob me the one and only on my lonely
Rambo child's never see me a smile foul as lay my vows
Pledge a soldier creed indeed my fingers feed
The desert ease so stand at ease or I'll make some blood sneeze
From ya body hidden like illuminati cocky as Gotti
Lookin' for my self but I can't find me yeah

Most consider me cocky but not me I'm just cleverly
On the hills like Beverly chilling with my Queen B plottin' a land for victory
So I can feed my family and my enemies
Hard to digest them bullets kissin'" ya chest no vest
Or head protectors can stop the bone collector
Claw mics harder than Vega still play Sega
Old skool with the rules break through crews
Like smokey robin sons if you ain't a don im second to none
Flows hotter than Tucson combined with Pun last of the shining son
Jack Nicholson making you run
With lyrical blade as I raid make enemies grow afraid cuz of the path i made
Yo I'm mighty healthy combat stealthy kick wealthy
Knowledge scholastic classic bias racial tension static
Frequency more tunes than Quincy Sanford and Sons
Making number ones Broadway comes almonds
Nuts lays joys since I caught bass in my voice noise
making from girls vibrating rear steer they derriere
Pams smack it like spam internet ram Emos cram
Back up in ya face like Bam wake up stack cakes up
Hold up my money rolleth up times twelve thou plow  
Haters below denominators top money numerator
Vintage Sega can't play me out black ****** scout
Hit men to women back up in the club sipping gins
Don't become a dead friend no liquors poured out
I'm taking a classic rout storytime Rudy Ray grind
Of the rhymes kicked out the timeline crime
Making becomes a new pedigree dark and lovely
Women spot 'em like mirrors off of a sun shine confined
Thoughts a maze frankly caught a glimpse of a golden daze




Intergalactic space age crafted been drafted grafted
Politician move wicked checked out the tickets pick it
Like Wilson grass keep it greener have ya seen her
**** gives me a chi-lite words flow like a kite no marquee
Vocals Voorhees king of the lost seas deadly ready
Nightmare hunter pin head hell raiser grazed ya
Microphone speak baritone principles of a decipher
Stolis Dr doo-little break chips yo I'm far from brittle
Minds a titanium turtle shell broke the white spells
Flippin' white yeyo pharcyde official runnin' homicide
Dirts done daily my lady workout harder than Donna Bailey
It's crazy crisscross look at the lost living a coin toss
No flips change the kabbitz stop the flow cycles
Bad as Michael dangerous only in guns we trust rust
All ya metals no firing see the spirits admiring
No retiring a black panther clouds of torments
Storming legacy raw creativity haters envy me
Can't change up my plot grave stakes kamikaze
**** a Maserati I rather bag Mercedes 80s
Bang a buck plus 50 picky me waist deep as Lucky
Charm she'd beautiful harm calm the seven hills
Have eyes waste nine live angelic prophetic regret it
Knowledge mystics embedded only false wisdoms get wetted
La donzelletta vien dalla campagna,
In sul calar del sole,
Col suo fascio dell'erba; e reca in mano
Un mazzolin di rose e di viole,
Onde, siccome suole,
Ornare ella si appresta
Dimani, al dì di festa, il petto e il crine.
Siede con le vicine
Su la scala a filar la vecchierella,
Incontro là dove si perde il giorno;
E novellando vien del suo buon tempo,
Quando ai dì della festa ella si ornava,
Ed ancor sana e snella
Solea danzar la sera intra di quei
Ch'ebbe compagni dell'età più bella.
Già tutta l'aria imbruna,
Torna azzurro il sereno, e tornan l'ombre
Giù dà colli e dà tetti,
Al biancheggiar della recente luna.
Or la squilla dà segno
Della festa che viene;
Ed a quel suon diresti
Che il cor si riconforta.
I fanciulli gridando
Su la piazzuola in frotta,
E qua e là saltando,
Fanno un lieto romore:
E intanto riede alla sua parca mensa,
Fischiando, il zappatore,
E seco pensa al dì del suo riposo.
Poi quando intorno è spenta ogni altra face,
E tutto l'altro tace,
Odi il martel picchiare, odi la sega
Del legnaiuol, che veglia
Nella chiusa bottega alla lucerna,
E s'affretta, e s'adopra
Di fornir l'opra anzi il chiarir dell'alba.
Questo di sette è il più gradito giorno,
Pien di speme e di gioia:
Diman tristezza e noia
Recheran l'ore, ed al travaglio usato
Ciascuno in suo pensier farà ritorno.
Garzoncello scherzoso,
Cotesta età fiorita
È come un giorno d'allegrezza pieno,
Giorno chiaro, sereno,
Che precorre alla festa di tua vita.
Godi, fanciullo mio; stato soave,
Stagion lieta è cotesta.
Altro dirti non vò; ma la tua festa
Ch'anco tardi a venir non ti sia grave.
smste2
Eeezy on da Haardware!
smste2's Avatar
Who owns CNN, NBC, MSN, FOX? Some facts...
So ya think we have a "free press" eh? Check out who owns who, and who owns what you think...

GENERAL ELECTRIC --(donated 1.1 million to GW Bush for his 2000 election campaign)

Television Holdings:
* NBC: includes 13 stations, 28% of US households.
* NBC Network News: The Today Show, Nightly News with Tom Brokaw, Meet the Press, Dateline NBC, NBC News at Sunrise.
* CNBC business television; MSNBC 24-hour cable and Internet news service (co-owned by NBC and Microsoft); Court TV (co-owned with Time Warner), Bravo (50%), A&E (25%), History Channel (25%).
The "MS" in MSNBC
means microsoft
The same Microsoft that donated 2.4 million to get GW bush elected.

Other Holdings:
* GE Consumer Electronics.
* GE Power Systems: produces turbines for nuclear reactors and power plants.
* GE Plastics: produces military hardware and nuclear power equipment.
* GE Transportation Systems: runs diesel and electric trains.
==================================================

WESTINGHOUSE / CBS INC.
Westinghouse Electric Company, part of the Nuclear Utilities Business Group of British Nuclear Fuels (BNFL)

Whose #1 on the Board of Directors? None other than:
Frank Carlucci (of the Carlyle Group) - Those who have seen Fahrenheit 911, or any other Bush-Investigation flick knows the Carlyle group well.

Television Holdings:
* CBS: includes 14 stations and over 200 affiliates in the US.
* CBS Network News: 60 minutes, 48 hours, CBS Evening News with Dan Rather, CBS Morning News, Up to the Minute.
* Country Music Television, The Nashville Network, 2 regional sports networks.
* Group W Satellite Communications.
Other Holdings:
* Westinghouse Electric Company: provides services to the nuclear power industry.
* Westinghouse Government Environmental Services Company: disposes of nuclear and hazardous wastes. Also operates 4 government-owned nuclear power plants in the US.
* Energy Systems: provides nuclear power plant design and maintenance.
================================================== ==============

VIACOM INTERNATIONAL INC.
Television Holdings:
* Paramount Television, Spelling Television, MTV, VH-1, Showtime, The Movie Channel, UPN (joint owner), Nickelodeon, Comedy Central, Sundance Channel (joint owner), Flix.
* 20 major market US stations.
Media Holdings:
* Paramount Pictures, Paramount Home Video, Blockbuster Video, Famous Players Theatres, Paramount Parks.
* Simon & Schuster Publishing.

=============================================
DISNEY / ABC / CAP (donated 640 thousand to GW's 2000 campaign)
Television Holdings:
* ABC: includes 10 stations, 24% of US households.
* ABC Network News: Prime Time Live, Nightline, 20/20, Good Morning America.
* ESPN, Lifetime Television (50%), as well as minority holdings in A&E, History Channel and E!
* Disney Channel/Disney Television, Touchtone Television.
Media Holdings:
* Miramax, Touchtone Pictures.
* Magazines: Jane, Los Angeles Magazine, W, Discover.
* 3 music labels, 11 major local newspapers.
* Hyperion book publishers.
* Infoseek Internet search engine (43%).
Other Holdings:
* Sid R. Bass (major shares) crude oil and gas.
* All Disney Theme Parks, Walt Disney Cruise Lines.
================================================== ====

TIME-WARNER TBS - AOL (donated 1.6 million to GW's 2000 campaign)
America Online (AOL) acquired Time Warner–the largest merger in corporate history.
Television Holdings:
* CNN, HBO, Cinemax, TBS Superstation, Turner Network Television, Turner Classic Movies, Warner Brothers Television, Cartoon Network, Sega Channel, TNT, Comedy Central (50%), E! (49%), Court TV (50%). * Largest owner of cable systems in the US with an estimated 13 million subscribers.
Media Holdings:
* HBO Independent Productions, Warner Home Video, New Line Cinema, Castle Rock, ****** Tunes, Hanna-Barbera.
* Music: Atlantic, Elektra, Rhino, Sire, Warner Bros. Records, EMI, WEA, Sub Pop (distribution) = the world’s largest music company.
* 33 magazines including Time, Sports Illustrated, People, In Style, Fortune, Book of the Month Club, Entertainment Weekly, Life, DC Comics (50%), and MAD Magazine.
Other Holdings:
* Sports: The Atlanta Braves, The Atlanta Hawks, World Championship Wrestling.

================================================== =====
NEWS CORPORATION LTD. / FOX NETWORKS (Rupert Murdoch) (donations see bottom note)
Television Holdings:
* Fox Television: includes 22 stations, 50% of US households.
* Fox International: extensive worldwide cable and satellite networks include British Sky Broadcasting (40%); VOX, Germany (49.9%); Canal Fox, Latin America; FOXTEL, Australia (50%); STAR TV, Asia; IskyB, India; Bahasa Programming Ltd., Indonesia (50%); and News Broadcasting, Japan (80%).
* The Golf Channel (33%).
MEDIA HOLDINGS:
* Twentieth Century Fox, Fox Searchlight.
* 132 newspapers (113 in Australia alone) including the New York Post, the London Times and The Australian.
* 25 magazines including TV Guide and The Weekly Standard.
* HarperCollins books.
OTHER HOLDINGS:
* Sports: LA Dodgers, LA Kings, LA Lakers, National Rugby League.
* Ansett Australia airlines (Since bankrupt), Ansett New Zealand airlines.
* Rupert Murdoch: Board of Directors, Philip Morris (USA).

(Phillip Morris donated 2.9 million to George W Bush in 2000)

Gotta love the free press!!
Pink panther gators,
Stepped over my haters,
See the game still caters,
The real folks to the haters,
Watch me still play ya,
Like Sega, classic Vega,
Minus three shanks, watch for these skanks,
Theory million and one yo hear me,
Breath easy, please believe me,
The industry, aint what it used to be,
I stand with the operation,
Of freedom, check the sound,
Though it might get me pound,
Passion of christ, never rocked the iced,
Only when the body is cold, how much longer can ya mold,
Ya self into the riches,
Sick of this, madness exposs wickedness,
Righteous man, guns in my mind, instead of my hand,
Aim straight, ****** shots, watch they brains get ate,
Can't handle the quake, ya lifes at stake, everyday we wake,
Up we think of ways, to get our bake up,
Whats up to my fam, who still pushin' dope in the grand ams,
R-I-P to grams, i didnt know better,
My temperature was sitting at winter weather,
Floatin' competition like Mayweather, its about cheddar, and advoid vendattas,
La donzelletta vien dalla campagna,
In sul calar del sole,
Col suo fascio dell'erba; e reca in mano
Un mazzolin di rose e di viole,
Onde, siccome suole,
Ornare ella si appresta
Dimani, al dì di festa, il petto e il crine.
Siede con le vicine
Su la scala a filar la vecchierella,
Incontro là dove si perde il giorno;
E novellando vien del suo buon tempo,
Quando ai dì della festa ella si ornava,
Ed ancor sana e snella
Solea danzar la sera intra di quei
Ch'ebbe compagni dell'età più bella.
Già tutta l'aria imbruna,
Torna azzurro il sereno, e tornan l'ombre
Giù dà colli e dà tetti,
Al biancheggiar della recente luna.
Or la squilla dà segno
Della festa che viene;
Ed a quel suon diresti
Che il cor si riconforta.
I fanciulli gridando
Su la piazzuola in frotta,
E qua e là saltando,
Fanno un lieto romore:
E intanto riede alla sua parca mensa,
Fischiando, il zappatore,
E seco pensa al dì del suo riposo.
Poi quando intorno è spenta ogni altra face,
E tutto l'altro tace,
Odi il martel picchiare, odi la sega
Del legnaiuol, che veglia
Nella chiusa bottega alla lucerna,
E s'affretta, e s'adopra
Di fornir l'opra anzi il chiarir dell'alba.
Questo di sette è il più gradito giorno,
Pien di speme e di gioia:
Diman tristezza e noia
Recheran l'ore, ed al travaglio usato
Ciascuno in suo pensier farà ritorno.
Garzoncello scherzoso,
Cotesta età fiorita
È come un giorno d'allegrezza pieno,
Giorno chiaro, sereno,
Che precorre alla festa di tua vita.
Godi, fanciullo mio; stato soave,
Stagion lieta è cotesta.
Altro dirti non vò; ma la tua festa
Ch'anco tardi a venir non ti sia grave.
Take a sip with the co-host,
Yo be yosef, chef and the ghost,
Smoking the most,
Dusty albums, no plays on the shelves, up the bass to twelve,
Decibels, feel the disciples,
Play with automatic rifles,
To haters, talking spiteful,
You so pitiful, suckas can't come off lyrical,
The conflicts crucials, can't dodge, the swords, blades of glory,
Eradicate ya ******, place this on the top ten,
See me next to Big Ben, one hundred, the clocks is running,
Times almost up, check the smooth cut, say what?,
Bogard the studio, when I hear the instrumental, poetic aesthetics,
Words prophetic, haters don't get it,the flows forbidden,
Kicked out the garden of Eden, when I started believing,
Cleaving, onto wisdom then some,
Shot out of the web,
One love to mom Deb, see me step, like Fetchin,
From the bullets, snapping from every direction, hits like a *******,
*****,
Can't push me, guard it down like Kobe, lyrical Shinobi,
Told yall, I control thee,
Mics skills, iced grills, feel these cold chills, laid on the hills,
Golden wine, ****** when I get too much Christ,-
Al we all have a ball, summer time to fall, laid up in the winter,
Voyage with me, to the center,
Of the crown chakra, hats that drop ya, word to Legba,
Latinas call me papi Pappa,
The true don dada, **** hoes who wear Prada, haters get a nada,
Don't try to step, to the godfather,
Bounded by the crystals, in my intellectual, **** a bisexual,
Chicks, don't play with *****,
Only myself, if I'm feeling it,
Hold up, cut the verse out, we bout to break out, like a peel out,
Y'all love to chase clout, I chase the money routes,
Stocks like Vanguard to Black rock,
So ya know I stay hard,
Two pits and a saint Bernard to guard, my colossal,
Mansion check the expansion,
I'll leave heads ringing,
Charles Manson, check the new rap anthem, connect like tandems,
My guns don't jam son,
Word up, this hits deep up in ya guts, stomach achin',
Awaken, from the supreme god taken,
All souls, down into the valley scrolls, know ya role,
Lounging on top of the seven cities,
Golden hill, let the words spill,
Vibrate ya melons, til ya feel,
The words that thrill,
The average nay sayer, not a player or a hater, I stay classic as Sega,
The sage continues, Wu making venues, cosmical values,
Got props from the, Parliament crew,
Dap up my homies, on the avenue,
Down the red, white and blue,
Solja rags, hot tags, got ******* to bag, **** with us,
You'll be in bags, trash took out, see us look out,
For each other, sister to brother no other, lay this beat as gutter,
Try to test the mic, only to end up in a permanent stutter,
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2021
i don't suppose every psychologists might think
that having a strong father figure in your
life implies that you'll subsequently end up:
just dandy...

or how there's this stereotypical fathom of man
on the dating market as:
the hunter... chasing women...
hell... if i had the money Oscar Schindler had...
i too would probably end up
being a womanizer...

my father is a diligent man...
an honest worker... i worked with him one fine
summer in between year one and year
two of studying for a chemistry
degree on the roof of what would become
the Scottish Widows HQ...
i remember parading my colt muscles
in the blistering sun against
the backdrop of felt rolls...
tar slobbered onto concrete and gravel...
insulation take-a-break & min-K...

but i've seen what disappointments he
had to face...
a two-faced cousin that undermined his
entire self-employed: employing
others structure... teaching them...
in a flash of a whim: all gone...
the golden-goose that lay eggs
and was subsequently brushed aside...
perhaps merely a language barrier...

the most good of men...
diligent... ethical by hard-work...
to suppose you: the son...
are somehow to turn out all fine and dandy:
the next cog in the machinery of grinding you
down: grinding you until there's no: halt!
suppose i was the by-product of
single-motherhood...
i had myself a tiger-mom:
i had instilled in me the sort of ambitions
to repay my mother:
like a Raheem Sterling might...

my father is...
i couldn't be my father...
then again instead of going to university:
a waste of time... he went to a technical
college and learned the practicality of
metallurgy... but then the town i was born in:
almost famous for its metallurgy (
most of the Stade de France came from
my little ******* of a town)
imploded... Soviet-satellite bits & bobs
were sold off to the lowest bidder...
a city nearing 100,000 became reduced to:
tumbleweed: return to village-esque:
a city of the living awaiting death:
a city of pensioners...
and the odd: last remaining... new-money...
start-ups...
not even that... a city of priests
and grannies "repentant"...

between True Grit (2010) and True Grit (1969):
well... for the role of
Rooster Cogburn.... if i had a father worse
than the father i have:
you can't really come across as a prodigy
in a field your father already mastered...
you want to become your own man...
poetry... hardly a field to compete with earning
money and the general idea of trade:
poetry wouldn't provide for a company
of a woman or a child...
not since Horace... not ever...
Bukowski made it... the rest of us seem to be
deluded: even he probably knew...
but i most certainly could be my father:
there's no trade in chemistry:
there's only a cubicle...
and... even on an oil-rig off the coast
of Scotland... you need someone to cover
your back... you don't need a chemistry
degree...
for most work... it's not that you've learned:
age old fable: who you know...
and who you know implies:
something being past down, directly...
not by theory...

no... i am honestly without the sort of ambition
that my father possessed...
to receive a letter from No. 10 by
the administration of a David Cameron (ex PM)
celebrating his clarity of paying taxes...
look at me... i don't even earn enough
money to legally pay taxes!
there's no heritage in my name...
i've had two surnames already...
the surnames have become pointless
since in my native tongue it was a joke:
do dupy - into an ***...
and in my acquired tongue my new surname
is also a joke... am i highly responsive?

i have a terrible surname: no wonder i decided
to use up the Catholic mess
of baptism and having a second name...
which would do be justice...
it's not like i was born into a line of
the Merovingian(s)...
so... eh... all these excuses these days...
to imagine the concept of family...
cousins... aunts... seems rather odd...
only today my mother received a phone-call
where she was informed by her mother
that her godfather died...
and she only found out 3 days after the funeral...
my mother's godfather had
5 brothers... my grandfather: p.b.u.h.
was one of them...
another brother of his only found out
a day after the funeral...
COVID is an excuse... not leaving enough
necrologues around a small city...
mobile phones...

               if brother dies and no brother is informed...
family... ha! what's that?
the old days of cousins... aunts...
the fabled Cockney matriarch with
her grand funeral procession: called 'er NUNS
or PETS or some other Scouser loved-up-rubbed-ruby...

did i forget to mention that my father
wasn't part of my life from the ages
of 4 through to 8?
when i met him after this absence:
that's what happened when the Soviet
regime and its subsequent satellite states
disintegrated into the wild west of new-capitalism...
i hugged a stranger...
for all i know: i buried my alcoholic
grandfather who didn't scold me for
piercing his bicycle wheel in order
that he wouldn't have to go to work...
the one who took me into the fields and
watched as i climbed trees
while Bella! the Alsatian barked with concern
as she couldn't imitate monkey!

the great western brain-&-labour-drain...
it happened... it was real...
pressure in the early 1990s...
by 2004 it came around more on the lines of:
*****-nilly...
i've been waiting for the psychiatric
diagnosis to ring true after... oh... 10 years...
i'm being more introspective and reflective
while the rest of the undiagnosed people
are running: rampant: hyped-up pseudo-news...

hell; i don't write: oh woe: my tale is the worst
to be behold: the people with the most
terrible... ahem... tragic stories should never
write about them: other people are bound
to encapsulate it better: hell: they might even
write a ******* opera!
no... i'm writing this because i see a fork
in the road... no one but me will divulge
as much as i can...

i'll pretend my father is already dead...
why? it's a Friday night and i'm packing for
some "adventure" most associated with
a Friday night in the "west":
friends... drinking... random *******...
all that mash-up of cosmopolitanism...
instead? i'm cooked-up sitting in the attic
playing chess with clutter...
moving box X from position Y to position B...
moving "necessary" clutter Z from position
A to a giraffe height of S...
i tell my mother: this is futile work...
there's a tragedy waiting for someone...
(namely me) who will have to sieve through
all this "necessary" crap and leave it for the
skip to decide...

oh i'm waiting for the day... i'm almost gagging
for it... like the day i say: **** it...
go into a forest... eat a lilac mushroom...
drink a bottle of bourbon and do a quick
1-2-3... the artery just behind my collar bone...
the artery in my right arm-pit...
and... don't *******'s me about
like it's some church-bell uvula:
there is no... there is no... ******* "heart rate"
in the wrist... you must aim higher up...
arteries can't be weaved into
the mesh of the carpal bones... *******...
putting the theatre curtain alight
telling me: oh oh! there's a pulse in that delta
of carpal bones... like **** there is...
ugh... ugly medicine practice...
i've already been fed enough chemistry
that has turned my brain into a cheerio-chemo-soup...
because... "some" imbalance...
imbalance this...

DAB... radio... at circa 88MHz i've been listening
to static of some "central groove" station...
it's mostly static... i thought i was listening
to BBC radio 3... switched from DAB to FM
and manually found BBC radio 3 at 91.35MHz...
of course it's still 20th century rigid...
rug-gy... there's static but at least i'm hearing
the talk...
that's what also gave me a downer...
it's not only my parents... i too...
but i wouldn't wouldn't just shift boxes
in the attic to make up time...
time as the space occupied by boxes...
i wouldn't be able to love a woman
like my mother like my father has...
no... first come, first served...
my mother is impossible:
but when she is what she is...
i haven't met a woman: to date...
that might want to showcase her
impossibly me...
most women still pretend they are
mythological creatures: unable to fathom
constipation....
all geared up for the alpha male plunder...
three letters:
alpha... beta... omega...

       i'm last: i'll write in order to complete
the rest of the spectrum...
write too much: or write too little:
of the former:
write enough to create an exclusive club
for those still preserving the constitution
of: hide & seek...
this is a game of hide & seek...
it can't be anything less...

i can't compete with my father...
what happens to a child when he is 4 through
to 8...
but his father isn't there:
his mother isn't there either... from the age
of 6 through to 8...
lightyears...
i had a Dobberman for a brother...
and an Alsatian for a sister...
now i have two Maine **** cats since...
well... it's not like i'm tender with them...
i like to scare them... they like to be scared...
yet at least one of them ends up
falling asleep in my bed...

i keep typing until midnight and
he's more than welcome...
as are all the moths...
would you believe it?
storage of clothing... winter coats...
to preserve them...
from an attack of moth larvae?
laurel leaves...

i hear a voice: 'mateusz... płoną góry!'
matthew: the mountains are burning!
yes... i've heard the end of the world is near:
no nearer to the world: nor the end...
either way: no nearer to the world or: to the end...

my wordsmith ambitions can be matched with
a father as... plumber...
but they can never be matched with
said ambitions: translated into payment!
into the trans-valuation of "all" values...
i can be this poo'et i am:
but it will never scratch the rewards:
of... the poorest job of plumbing...
of constipation blues...

suddenly Norman Davies is a bad historian
for calling US... yes... "us" the bad pronoun
collective Pollack the industrial *******?
we didn't pick cotton...
we weren't the choicest of athletes...
i digress... we're still not..
envy... the blacks will be despised for
their athleticism... the Jewry for their intellect...
come: to the bleaching crux...
third generation having ****** enough
whitey sandpaper... don't worry...
the mulatto "stigmata" will seize to exist...
unless... perpetuated... in placed like: Bra-Zyl...

but the aqua-people will respond...
so much for the kippah...
and the excess of muscles around the pelvis
when running from lion...
no chance of "racial equality"
come: finding a swimming mate... no?

yes... this must be a healthy ambition to counter
a concept of "father": this disillusioned son
i've had to become:
finding people talk about Rumi
while i'm stuck on glancing at the theatre of
******* Rambo
with him
come the resurrected
91.35MHz (in the range 90.2 - 92.6MHz)...
normal people have these candlelight supper
conversations all of a sudden...
some excuse to escape their needlework
paper on paper: forest without trees
analogy SHAMBOS...

if i were not writing words: scribbling them
without agony: teach me to use the hammer
and put pressure on the nail!
all that's currently deemed "work":
seems nothing short of merely:
loitering...
the space-occupying an otherwise
welcome absence...

i can't be my father... i can't be my grandfather...
although my father having celebrated
being gladly tee-total...
my (maternal) grandfather's love for
slobbering of liquor:
translates...
come to think of it...
beside the onslaught of pornographic insomnia:
would i rather drink myself
to death: subsequently write...
or ******* and only write with
a hand spare?
is there a former... or a latter
when giving a reply?

i just see red...
whoever was king david's father...
i'm pretty sure king david gave birth
to king solomon...
king solomon wasn't much interest in music:
therefore psalms...
he much preferred "wisdom" and...
the music of the choir of women
giving up their onomatopoeias of vowels
of the ******...
will anyone entice me to remind everyone
else of the son... the next king of Israel...
that came... after... Solomon... "the wise"...
David was wise...

he wrote the Psalms... he had some
interest in music... he even wrote
some lyrics...
Hallelujah... a one word... bonanza quest...
what undermines the wisdom
of king Solomon: the envy of the paupers:
anyone could be so wise...
if they had a summer harem choice...
a spring harem choice...
a harem within a harem...
a quickie and there also being some...
favourite...
Solomon no ******* Buddha...

can the peers of mine: question my hammer's worth
against the futures of... nails...
would i be able to justify their...
"presence"....
not here: not now...
i abolish all concern for...
casual al fresco cafe culture:

each to his own underground... each to his own:
rat infested hive...
here's one to ease away from:
why so many pornographic actresses
seems to die so young and from cancer?
what is cancer: deciphered as
botanical?
a fungus... mistletoe...

      i will never own up or therefore be:
my father's worth...
for what's... ghost society: woo or woe...
i'll end up sniffing some "pearls" of
moths while i'm clamouring
over disintegrating metaphors of plunder...

this is a relapse into listening to BBC Radio 3....
god: i better be found drunk
defending this pish-poor sort of
a... *******! ******* bunker!
no... my father is the agreeable sober-artefact
of... work hard... pays off...
i'm of the lineage:
think: "smart" ought to pay off...
i never gambled...
hence the "ought"...

in the attic i found a 16-BIT
sonic the hedgehog SEGA cartrige....
MADE IN JAPAN... circa 1993...
last time i heard...
some pristine exemplar fetched a sum
of over $1 million...
for a mario nitendo...
64...

how much for a russian empire
banknote... with the face of Nicholas II
on it?i am almost glad to have been
born dead... thinking about
it is almost a penny's worth of:
the sweet bits in between.
Travis Frank Sep 2018
Each June for three years, we vroomed
Up the back of a mighty seaside brontosaurus.
The Judge and I knew the deal.
Avoid talk of religion and politics and go to church each Sunday.
And be nice, share and enjoy yourselves. Love you boys.

Whilst we lazed about, cooked and played Sega Mega Drive,
Charlie dashed off in his crisp white BMW
To do Troy knows what
Utterly oblivious (or secretly oblivious) of the Trojan horse that now lay within.

Upon a received revelation of the Rock, I retained reconnaissance
Of Charles’ cunning charms and the beguiling of his brood,
Leaving me unswayed by the generous gifts and family feasts,
Adding to my appetite to attack.

Made to bathe together, Charlie’s Cinder later scalded me
With a coal that turned my heart to ash,
Elevating his own ego and solidifying his own existence
By scoffing at my member as a little worm.

Time to breach the horse, slay and burn,
Taking along only the Helen of healing humanity with me.
No, better yet – I’ll leave you to your adulterous ways.
Forsaking duty, filial predators and mercenary megalomania.

Now that I know you, I wish to flee from your house forever.
Stop me so that you can destroy me. Little secret – aim for the head.
Decapitate the leeching *** medusas
evil Seducers tryna turn my gem into stones
Been rolling stones since papa was never home
I learn to play my ear to the street chrome
Either way I had to write my own passage
Of a savage turn the page to lunatic havoc's
Saw my own death once I took my first breath
Into this ghetto world moves like a swirl
Acid axis saw the abraxas advoid the taxes
maxes Heads out here priced up lounging in dice
Entice spit nice
Burning suckas with the lyrical poltergeist splice
Mental verbs spread once the herbs fill nerves
Suckas know they finna get served curved
By my ragin' antics skipped the semantics
Got **** beats I romance it so don't chance it
None freaks it harder than eye spy flies
Black suits with mob ties see me improvise wise!!!
Word up!!

I turn loose jimmies into crickets
Stinking with the mystics hieroglyphics
Raps I flipped it crispy til they feel it
On that Ruffin flow steelo feel me so
Stay mellow with the juices to go out pores
My rain beyond a blood stains cranes
I mentally cater to a hater makes me greater
But them be the same haters that Sega
Genesis once they get a whiff of this
Got 'em loosing touch over the pulse rush
My guns stay on the hush silence a crush
Didn't know I had much clout mafia
Ain't no stoppin' tha rhyme tractor factor
To the war machine glitter and gleam seems
Like hate loves to follow loves legacy
But it guided me to show me my enemies
Quick to shake ya hands grinds over the face
Misplaced ya pace I see ya disgraced
Smack these fools with a tax lien Like Mase
Chilling with my women in a golden drapes
They keep me a secret like Xscape *** tapes
Got em saying baby baby baby I can't wait

(The ****** that's whats happening)

— The End —