"shrimps" poems
Thousands of years I have lived
And now I feel like little bacteria
My heart is filled with pores
And people call it ostia
The night's are glazing with pleurobranchia
And thank God I didn't get ******* hemiplegia
Solitary I feel in my animal kingdom
I wish I could do something with my boredom.
How amazing are these euplectellian shrimps
Dieing together imprisoned
Symptoms of true love they show to me
Together up to death they are known to be.
Maybe I am the class imperfecta
But by birth I am a mammalia
I wish we could both be mycorrhiza
And get hallucinated with amanita.
Someday we would make a synapse
And get into the love with mitochondria
And there our nervous system stops
And there the impulse will walk .
No special organelles I have
I'm just 70s ribosome
My heart is incipient
With foldings of mesosome
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
Heee! Heee! Hooooooo…..
Well, Hello, lovebirds…making love are we?
One on top of the other
still with flesh and organs all intact
and making all sorts of crude noises
and getting into this messy business –
getting your bed sticky and wet with sweat;
ah, you beings of flesh and blood and ecstasies
unlike me
just bones and a mere ghost me now living
lonely and in airless worlds
sent there by you my wife under that man
and you the man who helped poison me -
now you are over my wife
and you raise your **** to the gods
Hheeee…heeee….heeee… Heee! Heee! Hooooooo…..
Well, Hello, lovebirds…making love are we?
I’ll be back every time the two of you fornicators
make love in my bed – shame on you, you murderer;
you took my wife, my home –and can’t even afford
to buy a new bed;
and you even use the condoms I left in the wardrobe...
Heee! Heee! Hooooooo…..
but I’ll be back every time the two of you close each other
like two palms raised in prayer ;
and I’ll pull the mosquito net down a bit and peer in
to see the two of you naked in bed
and I’ve got a bony tongue
long enough to lick the both of you!-
and to see me with my horrendous eyeballs
your phallus will shrink immediately;
and that woman, my former wife and eternal betrayer,
who mixed poison into my rice and shrimps
- every time she sees me, in her shock and fear
she’ll **** you out of bed, every time for sure...
Heee! Heee! Hooooo….
Well, Hello, lovebirds…making love are we?
Heee! Heee! Hooooooo…..
Feb 23, 2011
Feb 23, 2011 at 1:11 AM UTC
I
On the Coast of Coromandel
Where the early pumpkins blow,
In the middle of the woods
Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
Two old chairs, and half a candle,--
One old jug without a handle,--
These were all his worldly goods:
In the middle of the woods,
These were all the worldly goods,
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
II
Once, among the Bong-trees walking
Where the early pumpkins blow,
To a little heap of stones
Came the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
There he heard a Lady talking,
To some milk-white Hens of Dorking,--
''Tis the lady Jingly Jones!
'On that little heap of stones
'Sits the Lady Jingly Jones!'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
III
'Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly!
'Sitting where the pumpkins blow,
'Will you come and be my wife?'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
'I am tired of living singly,--
'On this coast so wild and shingly,--
'I'm a-weary of my life:
'If you'll come and be my wife,
'Quite serene would be my life!'--
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
IV
'On this Coast of Coromandel,
'Shrimps and watercresses grow,
'Prawns are plentiful and cheap,'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
'You shall have my chairs and candle,
'And my jug without a handle!--
'Gaze upon the rolling deep
('Fish is plentiful and cheap)
'As the sea, my love is deep!'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
V
Lady Jingly answered sadly,
And her tears began to flow,--
'Your proposal comes too late,
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
'I would be your wife most gladly!'
(Here she twirled her fingers madly,)
'But in England I've a mate!
'Yes! you've asked me far too late,
'For in England I've a mate,
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!'
VI
'Mr. Jones--(his name is Handel,--
'Handel Jones, Esquire, & Co.)
'Dorking fowls delights to send,
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
'Keep, oh! keep your chairs and candle,
'And your jug without a handle,--
'I can merely be your friend!
'--Should my Jones more Dorkings send,
'I will give you three, my friend!
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!'
VII
'Though you've such a tiny body,
'And your head so large doth grow,--
'Though your hat may blow away,
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
'Though you're such a Hoddy Doddy--
'Yet a wish that I could modi-
'fy the words I needs must say!
'Will you please to go away?
'That is all I have to say--
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!'.
VIII
Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle,
Where the early pumpkins blow,
To the calm and silent sea
Fled the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
There, beyond the Bay of Gurtle,
Lay a large and lively Turtle,--
'You're the Cove,' he said, 'for me
'On your back beyond the sea,
'Turtle, you shall carry me!'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
IX
Through the silent-roaring ocean
Did the Turtle swiftly go;
Holding fast upon his shell
Rode the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
With a sad primaeval motion
Towards the sunset isles of Boshen
Still the Turtle bore him well.
Holding fast upon his shell,
'Lady Jingly Jones, farewell!'
Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
X
From the Coast of Coromandel,
Did that Lady never go;
On that heap of stones she mourns
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
On that Coast of Coromandel,
In his jug without a handle
Still she weeps, and daily moans;
On that little hep of stones
To her Dorking Hens she moans,
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
4.2k
Bustopher Jones is not skin and bones—
In fact, he’s remarkably fat.
He doesn’t haunt pubs—he has eight or nine clubs,
For he’s the St. James’s Street Cat!
He’s the Cat we all greet as he walks down the street
In his coat of fastidious black:
No commonplace mousers have such well-cut trousers
Or such an impreccable back.
In the whole of St. James’s the smartest of names is
The name of this Brummell of Cats;
And we’re all of us proud to be nodded or bowed to
By Bustopher Jones in white spats!
His visits are occasional to the Senior Educational
And it is against the rules
For any one Cat to belong both to that
And the Joint Superior Schools.
For a similar reason, when game is in season
He is found, not at Fox’s, but Blimpy’s;
He is frequently seen at the gay Stage and Screen
Which is famous for winkles and shrimps.
In the season of venison he gives his ben’son
To the Pothunter’s succulent bones;
And just before noon’s not a moment too soon
To drop in for a drink at the Drones.
When he’s seen in a hurry there’s probably curry
At the Siamese—or at the Glutton;
If he looks full of gloom then he’s lunched at the Tomb
On cabbage, rice pudding and mutton.
So, much in this way, passes Bustopher’s day-
At one club or another he’s found.
It can be no surprise that under our eyes
He has grown unmistakably round.
He’s a twenty-five pounder, or I am a bounder,
And he’s putting on weight every day:
But he’s so well preserved because he’s observed
All his life a routine, so he’ll say.
Or, to put it in rhyme: “I shall last out my time”
Is the word of this stoutest of Cats.
It must and it shall be Spring in Pall Mall
While Bustopher Jones wears white spats!
3.3k
The Pobble who has no toes
Had once as many as we;
When they said "Some day you may lose them all;"
He replied "Fish, fiddle-de-dee!"
And his Aunt Jobiska made him drink
Lavender water tinged with pink,
For she said "The World in general knows
There's nothing so good for a Pobble's toes!"
The Pobble who has no toes
Swam across the Bristol Channel;
But before he set out he wrapped his nose
In a piece of scarlet flannel.
For his Aunt Jobiska said "No harm
Can come to his toes if his nose is warm;
And it's perfectly known that a Pobble's toes
Are safe, -- provided he minds his nose!"
The Pobble swam fast and well,
And when boats or ships came near him,
He tinkledy-blinkledy-winkled a bell,
So that all the world could hear him.
And all the Sailors and Admirals cried,
When they saw him nearing the further side -
"He has gone to fish for his Aunt Jobiska's
Runcible Cat with crimson whiskers!"
But before he touched the shore,
The shore of the Bristol Channel,
A sea-green porpoise carried away
His wrapper of scarlet flannel.
And when he came to observe his feet,
Formerly garnished with toes so neat,
His face at once became forlorn,
On perceiving that all his toes were gone!
And nobody ever knew,
From that dark day to the present,
Whoso had taken the Pobble's toes,
In a manner so far from pleasant.
Whether the shrimps, or crawfish grey,
Or crafty Mermaids stole them away -
Nobody knew: and nobody knows
How the Pobble was robbed of his twice five toes!
The Pobble who has no toes
Was placed in a friendly Bark,
And they rowed him back, and carried him up
To his Aunt Jobiska's Park.
And she made him a feast at his earnest wish
Of eggs and buttercups fried with fish, -
And she said "It's a fact the whole world knows,
That Pobbles are happier without their toes!"
3.2k
Some playful shrimps clean the octolord's suction cups. One of their antennae buzzes a message up one of his orange tentacles and registers in the Octolord's mind: the silly sun is playing! Another shrimp: what's that sun up to now? The Octolord opened his mighty eyehole lids. The sun! What's...
NOTHING
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 6:02 PM UTC
sing, magic sea horse!
about marine depths
about vivid day dreams
the song of the waves echoes at the bottom
shallow waters pearl shells rainbow ears
someone should tell the colorful depths:
about my sighs
located on the edge of the horizon
resting in the arms
of a hundred salty flowers
swaying and dancing as
golden midsummer breeze
runs through scented branches
marine shrimps are running
toward tanned ankles
silver bracelets
toward brown feet
bronze *******
young boys catching their first fish
sailing boats gliding
sea gulls
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC
She took a slice of a rice paper
Hold it delicately ... careful not to break it
Expertly placed it on a plate..
Mixed the fresh salad, some noodles and shrimps
Nervously rolled it one by one, though...
All eyes are on her.. All ears are on her
She and her famous Rice paper ...the subject of attention..
... the rolls she promoted..
A traditional cuisine, a local pride
She dipped the rolls in some kind of fish sauce
Shyly she offered the delicacies to us..
We .. the so called “International people” were amused
this tantalizing Vietnamese cuisine..
Specially made in Vietnam.. only in Vietnam..
Rice paper rolls.. repeat the demonstration
Wet it with water..
Choose your favourite fillings... roll it and roll it..
Its done.. Its ready.. its super unique...
Fish sauce.. fish oil and dip one... dip another
one by one.. so sensational taste..
Looking so plain never you doubt the taste
Superdelicious!!
Yummy the Vietnamese Rice paper..
Only in Vietnam..
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
Golden sand tickling your toes
Pebbles gleaming, glistening, slushing
When the tide comes back to shore.
Sand dunes hiding wildlife,
Multitudes of migratory birds,
Safely returning every year to
This beautiful, marshy paradise.
Skies so orange, pink and red,
An artists palette of natural art
Greet you at sunrise and sunset.
***** kippers, cod and plaice
Shrimps, cockles and whelks,
Mushy, minty peas and chips,
The show at the end of the pier.
The lifeboats and their hardy crew
Risking their lives to save others,
When visitors run into trouble
At the mercy of the cold North Sea.
Crumbling coastlines, cliff walks
And nature reserves full of the
Scent of wild garlic and herbs,
Norfolk lavender. Steam engines,
Fishing boats, river boats,
Paddling boats and cycles
Take you on journeys
Around the Broads or
Past the famous Castles.
Tigers and leopards peer
Through the bars of their
Zoo homes by the sea.
Easterly winds that bite your
Fingers as they whistle and
Howl through the City.
Guest houses closed for
The winter as you stroll
The lonely promenades
Breathing in the air.
Queen Bodicea, Normans,
Vikings and Romans all
Marched through this
Historical landscape
And yet we remain
Stalwart and strong
Proud of our heritage,
Our roots, our birthplace
There's only one place
Better than Norfolk,
And that's the
Beautiful Ozarks.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
I
Once Mr. Daddy Long-legs,
Dressed in brown and gray,
Walked about upon the sands
Upon a sumer's day;
And there among the pebbles,
When the wind was rather cold,
He met with Mr. Floppy Fly,
All dressed in blue and gold.
And as it was too soon to dine,
They drank some Periwinkle-wine,
And played an hour or two, or more,
At battlecock and shuttledore.
II
Said Mr. Daddy Long-legs
To Mr. Floppy Fly,
'Why do you never come to court?
I wish you'd tell me why.
All gold and shine, in dress so fine,
You'd quite delight the court.
Why do you never go at all?
I really think you ought!
And if you went, you'd see such sights!
Such rugs! Such jugs! and candle-lights!
And more than all, the King and Queen,
One in red, and one in green!'
III
'O Mr. Daddy Long-legs,'
Said Mr. Floppy Fly,
'It's true I never go to court,
And I will tell you why.
If I had six long legs like yours,
At once I'd go to court!
But oh! I can't, because my legs
Are so extremely short.
And I'm afraid the King and Queen
(One in red, and one in green)
Would say aloud, "You are not fit,
You Fly, to come to court a bit!"'
IV
'O Mr. Daddy Long-legs,'
Said Mr. Floppy Fly,
'I wish you'd sing one little song!
One mumbian melody!
You used to sing so awful well
In former days gone by,
But now you never sing at all;
I wish you'd tell me why:
For if you would, the silvery sound
Would please the shrimps and cockles round,
And all the ***** would gladly come
To hear you sing, "Ah, hum di Hum"!'
V
Said Mr. Daddy Long-legs,
'I can never sing again!
And if you wish, I'll tell you why,
Although it gives me pain.
For years I cannot hum a bit,
Or sing the smallest song;
And this the dreadful reason is,
My legs are grown too long!
My six long legs, all here and there,
Oppress my ***** with despair;
And if I stand, or lie, or sit,
I cannot sing one little bit!'
VI
So Mr. Daddy Long-legs
And Mr. Floppy Fly
Sat down in silence by the sea,
And gazed upon the sky.
They said, 'This is a dreadful thing!
The world has all gone wrong,
Since one has legs too short by half,
The other much too long!
One never more can go to court,
Because his legs have grown too short;
The other cannot sing a song,
Because his legs have grown too long!'
2.2k
How pleasant to know Mr. Lear,
Who has written such volumes of stuff.
Some think him ill-tempered and queer,
But a few find him pleasant enough.
His mind is concrete and fastidious,
His nose is remarkably big;
His visage is more or less hideous,
His beard it resembles a wig.
He has ears, and two eyes, and ten fingers,
(Leastways if you reckon two thumbs);
He used to be one of the singers,
But now he is one of the dumbs.
He sits in a beautiful parlour,
With hundreds of books on the wall;
He drinks a great deal of marsala,
But never gets tipsy at all.
He has many friends, laymen and clerical,
Old Foss is the name of his cat;
His body is perfectly spherical,
He weareth a runcible hat.
When he walks in waterproof white,
The children run after him so!
Calling out, "He's gone out in his night-
Gown, that crazy old Englishman, oh!"
He weeps by the side of the ocean,
He weeps on the top of the hill;
He purchases pancakes and lotion,
And chocolate shrimps from the mill.
He reads, but he does not speak, Spanish,
He cannot abide ginger beer;
Ere the days of his pilgrimage vanish,
How pleasant to know Mr. Lear!
2.1k
She sits from where
the rainbow arches into the river.
As I eye her fishing net
she reads the question in my mind.
*I'm waiting for three thirty
when tides begin to fall
but the shrimps can't go back.*
When the bank begins to bare
she glides into the waves
till the water cools her *******
I walk away knowing
she would bob up to the hour
the moon is upon her face
and she has made another morrow
from the river.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 4:30 AM UTC
If he lacked polish and was avaricious without any limit,
he could have taken her by force and justified that she provoked,
knowing from each move she made,
she was teasing him, and taking it to the extreme,
he may have gone over to the top, any moment.
They stayed in two rooms adjacent
in that backwater resort, a breath taking delight,
in the mornings she paraded
in front of his room, skimpily dressed,
as he came out, her beauty seemed to overflow
from bra top and she encouraged him in many ways
by suggesting many possibilities of pleasure.
A waiter comes and knocks at his door
he gets a complimentary drink, his favorite
courtesy to her(obviously she has made meticulous research)
along with shrimps and clams cooked in olive oil.
When he came out for an evening stroll,
at the far end of the compound, in the shallow part of the lake,
she was taking bath, with an exhibitionist flourish
when he smiled at her visibly timid, she amorously pursed her lips,
she was in an adventurous mood, like nature at the time of bloom.
"Seen your paintings, loved those sensual nudes
reminds me more of myself, in front of a mirror,
obviously they are all seekers of pleasure, I am sure.
I am a singer, they say my voice seduces, all
you to me do the same when I see you as the painter,
in flesh and blood" she paused for a breath.
"If I lacked polish, my paintings wouldn't have the magic,
you speak about; it's not deliberately created, that's impossible.
It's pure poetry, that oozes by itself, a blessing I earned.
There is no wanton desire here. Magic of the sensual
is charged in the atmosphere.I feel it all the time,
be it morning, evening or night,
the possibilities of pleasure is limitless.
Express the best way one deems fit, be liberated."
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 10:36 AM UTC
sushi?
no
combination fried rice?
no
nasi goreng?
no
casserole?
no
shepherds pie?
no
are we getting closer?
maybe
tacos? that must be it?
no
yep. i think i know
shrimps, hot dogs and buffalo wings?
nope. too far away
curry?
closer!
jalapenos, habaneros, chilli?
yep. as hot
but tastes and temperaments
from all mixed.
food channel addict, chef?
nope.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 months ago
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11608284-all-mixed-up-by-Marshall-Gass-noguest#sthash.Syfk2KZn.dpuf
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
little tommy turtle booked a holiday
to the barrier reef so very far away
he packed up his snorkel and his little mask
and he took his suitcase and a little flask
tommy started diving and jumped in to the reef
putting on his snorkel and swimming underneath
he saw lots of fish swimming round his face
floating there so happy as if they were in space
then he saw some ***** as big as big can be
with lots of lovely colors swimming in the sea
then he saw a swordfish with a great big nose
and lots of little shrimps swimming round his toes
tommy he just his little holiday
swimming in the reef and all around the bay.
Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 9:08 AM UTC
It was a feeling of euphoric sensibility.
There was a gymnasium full of shrimps,
all squirming around,
trying to gain insight on their miserable minds.
As a sat their watching them squirm,
I accepted the feeling of wonderful greatness.
Just happy to be alive and among these other cool things in the gymnasium.
All the same beings,
but minutly similar personalities.
And as I blew my smoke,
and cleared the pass to me greatness,
I realized,
its these shrimps who make me who I am.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
Where the river abandons herself to the creek
and the mudbank is cratered with crabclaws
waits the old man.
He doesn't know his years
but his ears are a sonic gift
catching the tonal variations of tides
seemingly for eons
evolving with the mangrove map
into a flawless tracker
of how far the moon would recline
for ***** to be holed out
and what shoreline the water would touch
before the shrimps starlight driven
make a beeline for the net.
I encountered him once
in the absurdity of a time
when I was high
and he lowly crouching
was making art by the creek.
Who was the poet
I could never tell.
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 6:28 AM UTC
little tommy turtle booked a holiday
to the barrier reef so very far away
he packed up his snorkel and his little mask
and he took his suitcase and a little flask
tommy started diving and jumped in to the reef
putting on his snorkel and swimming underneath
he saw lots of fish swimming round his face
floating there so happy as if they were in space
then he saw some ***** as big as big can be
with lots of lovely colors swimming in the sea
then he saw a swordfish with a great big nose
and lots of little shrimps swimming round his toes
tommy he just loved his little holiday
swimming in the reef and all around the bay.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
Walking over ice,
above thick frozen sea surface,
how could one imagine,
a sunken ship is below there,
that once carried lives and hopes,
wrecked and buried-
now part of a myth
our frozen past unseen.
One understands things,
the way one pleases,
and makes oneself believe
it is the truth.
In certain moments,
silence alone speaks,
making you aware of
other realities.
You see wonders and realize,
you need to change,inside out
to be in tune with realities;
often times fantasies in masquerades.
The water world below
has its own realities,
I see the water bed, clear,
eerie and desolate.
smooth rounded pebbles,
bearing mysterious meanings,
imbibed in their lives in rolling,
from mountain to plains,
on their way to sea.
Marked stones peered at my face,
with petrified dense smiles.
I felt a stranger, a fictitious being.
"Come on" they said,
"time is cruel,
we are trapped here under,
beds of rivers and lakes,
unable to unburden our
ancient memories
of primordial world,
heaped on us through ages."
I felt the presence of an invisible sea,
mermaids of the past,
with mysterious stories,
girls drowned and took
refuge there never to go back.
Water world is the other side of
darkness, permeated by
a yellow light in which
strange life forms masquerading as
eels, shrimps and cuttle fish,
tell you strange tales
you never want to believe.
I came up quick,
surfacing in another world
and found,
the girl i love to be with,
stands perplexed.
"Did you by any chance
find a world down there
and decided to stay back,
I was wondering" she teased.
"And perhaps there would be a girl,
who would have enticed you,
with her cold charm
and voluptuous curves"
*"Truth" I told her," is stranger indeed,
There is a world, but it shouldn't
keep you enthralled,
we should forget it for now"
though told her this, I didn't
name that maiden wearing dark
whose eyes are all expectation*
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 5:36 AM UTC
crashing
lashing
smashing
the waves came to shore
beating the craggy rock ledges
with their salty paws
crashing
lashing
smashing
the waves came to shore
scuttling the shrimps and *****
into the rock pool floors
crashing
lashing
smashing
the waves came to shore
stirring the sandpipers to flight
as they've done so many times before
crashing
lashing
smashing
the waves came to shore
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 6:17 AM UTC
Come on down to china town, where the rice is white and the chicken brown. The beef is sweet, spices ground. Rice sweet and sour. Shrimps rolled in duck sauce and shifted flour. Soup on the side, with soy and curry powder.
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
i walked the shores of ireland and walked down by the seaand watch the waves roll by right in front of mei watched the seagulls hover gently on the wingwaiting for the shrimps as the tide it pushes ini sit and watch the clouds as they pass gently bysitting there so beautiful in the irish skyi walk along the sand leaving footprints as i gothinking of the things ive seen to give my heart aglow
Feb 27, 2010
Feb 27, 2010 at 6:11 AM UTC
*Had I been a poet river born
Flowed at ebbs to the sea
Fed on her shores fields of corn
On her face etched the sky gaily!
Had I been a poet river bred
Rode her waves of lunar tide
Kissed her bank in cool summer shade
And never ever left her side!
I would have grown a love riverine
For all lives feeding on her breast
Fishes shrimps the dolly dolphin
***** turtles and the rest!
One moonlit night when she rose high
Drowned me in her beauteous wine
In a feathery drop on her bed I would lie
Breathing river poet’s one last line!*
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 3:56 AM UTC
Wake up, hello,
wake up, hello,
wake up, hello,
Shaped are the pale clouds that billow
In my lucid dreams, blue, orange, pink and bright yellow
Now and later I dream of snicker wrappers sticking to my pillow
Purple trees surrounding me
Laffy taffy toes when I see my feet and I laugh and giggle
Paranoid in my sleep
I just ate my baby nieces skittles
And my little sisters cereal
With goose pimples and spiders tingling up and down my skin
My brain is pulsing harder
No, no, don't let those cats get in
Because Dolce ate my shrimps, and Gucci ate my cake.... Joe
Put the bag down Jake!
Like I'm Alonzo on a sugar high from all the skittles
When I stop dreaming fluffy cat, pink, and bright yellow pillows
I need to slow it down with the herbs I bought shopping for medicinal
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 12:54 AM UTC
yo check it **** these youtube ****** sound like a bunch of ******* chirpin'
yo father of the seven seas
its time for the realemcees
to stand up mob up
cuz these ****** ****
more **** than a ** thats on a street lick
******* up is my clique
we ride w mobsters
do biz while eatin' shrimps n lobsters
ya cant stop tha
reign i drop on ya brain
got ya eyes bugged out like snorts of *******
after i finish ya
ya cant regain ya title or fame
ya know the name yosef comin' mo explosive
than Saddam droppin bombs
no harm done to me
hold ya hands in a circle and repeat after me
"yosef the magnificent"
none can surpass or blastme im see through to ****** that try to talk to
me with that ******** save tha soft talks i send ya to hells pits
with no remains and blood stains
on the concrete mayne
i got multiple domains without pushin' an ounce of ******* no pain no gain yea my words insane major like pain
all ya need to do is remain
calm and cool as the pistol to ya mouth makes ya drool
ya know the rules
**** you pay me cant slay me i was birthed in another dimension
sent back for the mental incision
like ISIS got these *** *** emcees in a crisis
now check my ices
rolex pushin' a manual fully loaded lex
180 on the dash fast cash leads to a crash but im too smooth move pass
the crowds
im rougher than a diaper rash like Johnny Cash
i dance in the ring of fire
Hip Hops Resurrectin'Messiah ya need Higher
Learning as im turning
the page the **** got me in a rage
these ****** aint spittin' nothing they in a daze
when i shine i burn em harder than a sun beam rays
even if ya had 50 aks
pointed at me it still wouldnt penetrate me im untouchable incredible
sources credible
game hungriest so yall edible
if ya sold ya soul?
ya still couldnt floss like me
shady two point o the Rap Cypher Chief
bow down ya ***** bitchess!!!!!!
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC