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Verdae Geissler Jun 2013
This is one of the great memories I have of the, rare but precious, moments I spent with my daddy. I was all of,maybe, six years old. And this is how it went dow that night...

It was during a wedding party for my dad’s good friend Billy Phibin, where he and I would pull off more than a couple of our wonderfully delicious pranks.  Mostly though, we would put to test our excellent skill in ******* off his wife, while amusing all the  wedding guests. And with a style all our own,  we would leave our  mark on a couple of “celebutants” of the New York, Atlanta art scene. My dad and I were quite a team.
I am sure we left our mark, to this very day, on those silly chicks!

As I recall,  one of the two, along with a terrible fake British accent, and some funky 70′s, pre-punk eclectic outfit, was wearing this pair of truly, unforgettable, green sunglasses.
...The kind that would put ol’ Elton to shame!

My dad and I,  when we weren’t throwing bricks, with Harold Kelling, off the top of the old Atlanta warehouse, followed the two celebutants around the party, heckling them through out the night.
...Or, when we weren't reaching for the neon coca cola sign, which seemed so close I thought we might actually be able to touch it, we razzed and heckled the crowd.

The warehouse seemed more like a huge tree house, full of everything wonderful and exciting, than a downtown loft, in the worst neighborhood possible, and where a man might actually be mugged and left for dead in the street!

My dad and I had indulged ourselves in all the boring fun we could stand at this point. Plus, the celeb chicks were getting ready to leave.  So we set our mischief into action.
It was crazy.
Like syncronicity.
...We never planned a thing,  yet we both knew what the plan was, and what the next move was going to be.
So like we were one entity, and in unison, we followed those two chicks to their swank little antique convertible, where we inevitably ended up, absolutely, tricking one of those silly chicks out of her “funky green sun glasses”!  
Not to mention her phone number, for my dad, no less!
My daddy and I were on a roll!
We laughed and laughed as I put them on, then ran.
Wearing those funky green sunglasses!                                  
"Well, that was fun!", my dad exclaimed.
"What's next Daddy?", I screamed with delight!
With a wink and a smile, we were off again....
That is when we really did it up!
We threw it all to the wind!
..and the real fun began!
Hell, we were already in deep **** with Linda Phibin and Da Mama!
....why not have some REAL fun!

...So, as we watched the little antique sporty speed off into the distance, my dad and I set our plan into action...

Let me take a moment to explain the entrance to this loft. It had a very narrow and steep stairway, which led, abruptly, to the sidewalk outside.
So if a man were to loose his balance, it would pretty much be over!

Back to the scene of the crime...

I will, again, note that this staircase was very narrow, steep, and old.

If a man were to fall, he would, inevitably,
land, face first, onto the ***** sidewalk.

...As my dad got busy positioning himself to look as if he'd fallen down the staircase.
He went on to position his face and wine cup just right...
... with them both spilling out onto the sidewalk...!

Now, my job was to sneak back in to the loft's tiny kitchen to get some "blood" for around his mouth and hand.
Off I went...
... I sneaked past the front room, then past the swing, onto the kitchen, people smiling at me the whole way.
... never knowing what was up my sleave...
Finally, I arrived in the cramped little kitchen.
I proceeded, in stealth mode, on to the fridge for ketchup.

Hah! mission accomplished!

I was headed back to the scene, when the
bride caught me by the arm, as she was mixing up some drinks.
She smiled and winked.
...I will always think, because she knew my dad,
and by reading the look on my face, as I stood there with her bottle of ketchup in hand,
she secretly loved whatever  it was, we were up to!
So she gave me the go ahead with then nudge of her chin. T
Then off  I was, once again!
We proceeded to put the finishing touches on our grotesque scene....
... A scene that would most probably now, cause, even, me to have a heart attack,
were I to come upon it!
As I reached my dad, who was all sprawled acroos and down the stairway, I screamed, in my kid voice; "Mission accomplished, daddy!"
"Here's the blood!"
We squirted it in all the right places....
After everything was just right, I  already knew my next mission:
collect the crew, and bring them out to the horrific scene!
Now, I must remind the reader, that "the crew" consisted of my step mother, who had been fed up long before now, and then there was Linda Phibin, who'd been over my dad's antics since 1972!
They made up the "crew"!
Just so you know, they were acting as if they'd had less no fun that evening.
and if they had to put up with “just one more thing out of us”, they would both implode.
Thinking back now, I can say with pride;
The scene was perfect!
We had everything in place.
Now for the theatrical perfomance of my entire childhood...
...My dad looked like **** Jagger, or even Keith Richards during the thrushes of a major overdose, or perhaps Joe Cocker, on a bad drunk...
....With his head all ******, from all the ketchup we'd squirted all over the  place, there he  was.
.. My dad with his bloodly head hanging out into the city’s dark, *****, and dangerous sidewalk!

After, once again, climbing the stairs, I rushed in on the crowd.
I was a kid in hysterics!
I was screaming about, how my dad had lost his balance.
and was, now, lying on the stairs, bleeding into the street.
I led them back to “the scene of the crime”,
sobbing the entire way.

...It was better than we ever could have imagined!
They swallowed it all, hook line and sinker!
They were all freaking out, screaming for an ambulance, medic, anything!
I even remember hearing someone scream,
“Oh God, I think his neck is broken!”
...Then another scream,
”And so are his legs!”
I'll never know how he continued to lay there without cracking up,
but then at that very moment,  
my dad sprung to life, acting as if he were some kind of zombie creature!
They really freaked at that.
... crying and screaming, and freaking out!
Then they screamed some more...
...I was ecstatic, bursting with pure admiration and awe of my daddy’s brilliant performance.
I was walking on air knowing we'd pulled it off , once again!
Meanwhile,
Let's just say, the others were a lot less amused.
So we all piled back into the momobee.
Then headed home, with them scolding us, and ******* the whole way.
....Some things never change!

Even then, my dad and I kept our private little buzz going....

...on  Ketchup and Green Sunglasses!
Drew Dockerty Jan 2013
The past you cannot forget or undo,
The future is all we can look forward too.

I wish I could have been there by your side...
for all the times you've weeped and cried.

Know from my heart, what I say is true...
That I hurt for the pain you have been through.

Never alone shall you be, someday, somehow
freedom you will see may your hopes and dreams come true,

No matter where you are, I'll always be here for you...
Jeremy Duff May 2013
When the hard cider is all gone
and the pabst is all stale
and the ***** makes you gag
and the drug testing doesn't let you smoke ****
what do you do?
You have a ******* good time
with some great people
and you pack bowls for them
and roll joints for them
and hate the frat boys with them.

You laugh at the funny jokes
and duck call at the bad ones.
You smoke too many cigarettes
and give away your only lighter.

You fall asleep with one of them in your arms.
But don't worry, next weekend it will be someone else.
This time it was a tenacious blonde who's taking you to prom.
Next week it might be the lovely red head who wears his heart on his sleave
or it may be the funny Jewish kid who plays beer pong by himself.
Maybe it'll be the girl who shows up when all the ***** is gone
and sits next to you and lets you hold her close.
But never by yourself,
they're all to lovely to let that happen.

A few days from then you'll go on a walk and bring a few cigarettes and a book
but the cigarettes remind you of them and the book reminds you of her
so you leave Leaves of Grass in the grass and smoke the cigarettes
thinking of the Before.
thinking of the Then.
Not worrying about the Now
and forgetting the When.

You sleep like a baby,
in the sense that you wake up every few hours and struggle to fall asleep without your mother's breathing to sing a lullaby.
She's outside,
falling in to old habits,
throwing two years into a bottle and downing it.
She's smoking her last cigarette so she sneaks into your room careful not to wake your seemingly sleeping Self and digs in your backpack until she finds your cigarettes.

In the morning she will magically have those two years back
and she will have forgotten those cigarettes she took from you.

But you'll throw her empty bottles away before your sister can find them and Understand.
And she won't lend you that twenty bucks she said she would because she spent it on two bottles of Jägermeister.

And the girl who lives down the street knows none of this because to her it's not real.
She only knows that your mother has a two year NA chip
and she only knows that you used to Hate yourself.
She knows that you like her
and she thinks she likes you.
And she lets you put your arm around her
and she snaps at Satan with you.

And you love the lovely red head and you hope he reads this
and is happy  because he is in one of your ramblings.
just as your heart smiles
when you find yourself in one of his.
however more poetic and sensitive and lovely they are.
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove,
Of golden sand, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines and silver hooks.

There will the river whispering run,
Warmed by thy eyes more than the sun.
And there the enamoured fish will stay.
Begging themselves they may betray.

When wilt thou swim in that live bath,
Each fish, which every channel hath,
Will amorously to thee swim,
Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.

If thou, to be so seen, beest loath,
By sun or moon, thou dark’nest both;
And if myself have leave to see,
I need not their light, having thee.

Let others freeze with angling reeds,
And cut their legs with shells and weeds,
Or treacherously poor fish beset
With strangling snare, or windowy net.

Let course bold hand from slimy nest
The bedded fish in banks out-wrest,
Or curious traitors, sleave-silk flies,
Bewitch poor fishes’ wandering eyes.

For thee, thou need’st no such deceit,
For thou thyself are thine own bait;
That fish that is not catched thereby,
Alas, is wiser far than I.
Lane Nov 2012
Drips to the brain and a shock on your lips/
With a paper-thin smile as she slowly moves her hips/
Eyes glazed over she just wants to find a way out/
But she hits and then she trips until she's on the ground passed out.
You mean to tell me you're an angel?
**** lies.
Because you're stuck inside your own mind lookin' for a compromise.
Earthquake, shook up, waitin' for the sun to rise/
Aftershock, thrown up, do it all again tonight.
She's a little diva, with a tattoo when her sleave's up/
Keep it from the parents they don't know just what the street's done.
Darling likes 'em daring better hope she doesn't catch one/
Paralyzing stare and she'll forget you after all the fun.
But it's a sickness, her fever seems so cyclic.
She hustles-loves-and moves-on shouting independence.
'She's not the one to blame' they say, 'she's a product of her environment'
no way.
She's a self-sustained dope-headed crack-craving ****-train.
Begging for her high she can lie to fill the pocket,
A siren slowly swinging with her skin a little off-tint.
But what if lies were only lies because of what ourselves define,
and maybe lines scribbled over lines are just the best way I can hide.
Bret Desrochers Oct 2011
Now this song will sound lame
But without you I wouldn't be the same
I'd be a long lost brother
With no escape from an evil mother

You help me with right and wrong
So I wrote you a thank you song

I know for me you'd walk through hell
Only one there when it all fell
We may not always see eye to eye
But your shoulders always there when I break down and cry

Sisters like you are to few
Some **** no one knows but you
Ry and Maritz will **** me if I don't include them to
Always filled with hugs, you'd be lost without those two

Now this song will sound lame
But without you I wouldn't be the same
I'd be a long lost brother
With no escape from an evil mother

You help me with right and wrong
So I wrote you a thank you song

Nobody will ever understand us
So a ******* to them, don't make a fuss
From Uno, War, and Rocket Power
To fighting for the first shower

You wear your heart on your sleave
Makes me glad to know you ain't ever gonna leave

Ooo Ooo Ooo

You help me with right and wrong
So for you, this is a thank you song

Ooo Ooo Ooo

Sister Sister
Copyright; Bret Desrochers
Diana Richter Dec 2013
Laying close to death.
Taking your last breath,
eyes closing to shaded black.
Pills in your system, ready to attack.
Rush of sirens all you hear,
all ending in your thirteenth year.
You lay there with a heart rate that is slowing,
you're dying, and your family is knowing.
On the edge of the hospital bed,
where you may as well lay there dead.
Your moms eyes fill with tears, and her heart with guilt,
as she tells you everything, when you're heart wasn't spilt.
You father, your biggest hero never leaves your side.
His ****** expressions blank, but he's crying inside.
The nurse comes in, worry on her face.
Telling you, you need to go to a bigger place.
To far to go by ambluance, so they take you by flight.
By the time you arive, it's deep late at night.
Crew and the nurses talking back and fourth but it's blured.
You know their speaking clearly but their words seem slured.
You wake, and it's finally bright outside.
You look back and forth, see your family never left your side.
The doctor comes in, and explains my condition.
They go over questions, for your admission.
Guilt and remorse is all you can feel,
everything feels like a nightmare, but it's all to real.
Theirs no way to make things right,
you can't even remember what happened last night.
IV's in your arms, you ask the doctor what came about,
the night before, He says  attempted suicide without a doubt.
As memories flood back into your head,
you think I really wanted to be dead....
The doctor asks if I remember what happened the night before,
when your dad asked you what happened, not noticing the pill bottle on the floor.
After three long days, the cops come to take you to a crisis center,
handcuffs on wrists, where scars lay from before. Door opened up, you must enter.
Long ride to think of everything, looking behind you you see your parents car.
Tears run down your face, they're so close, yet so far.
As you pull up to where you'll spend your weak.
You try and talk, but the words are meak.
Your get entered into the system, then you're parents must leave.
The tears come again, but you wipe them with your sleave.
You go to your room, and close the door.
Not wanting nothing more, then someone in your arms, you fall to the floor.
After you wake, your parents are there to visit but it's not expected.
Taking you to a different area, your tears are being collected.
After six days you're ready to go home,
new areas that you're ready to roam.
You run as your dad enters the door,
you run to him and jump to give him a hug almost knocking him to the floor.
You collect your things and say good bye to all the kids there,
never wanting to go back, suicide you'd never dare.
When you get home, you've never felt more joy
Talking to your bestfriend, playing with your favorite toy.
It's so nice to finally be home in your own bed,
Now I realize "I really wanted to be dead"
Adam Childs Apr 2014
As I pass through the wish e washy
Politics of my superficial mind
The many false faces
My eternal being remains
Frustrated by the ineptitude
Of my political , dishonest mind
As my oceanic being is covered
By a sheet of crusty cold ice
The great masses  in my being
Feel disconnected and disillusioned
By the elitist aspects of the
Political mind who live on top

But as I begin to feel my internal council
A silence from  within vibrates with
As the many chattering politicians
Scurry and busy themselves
I begin to drop deeper,  to know
My many political shapes  
How I dream to know the many
Characters of my political being
As to understand the lawmakers
In is to understand my life
Where do I find the honest council
And who are the corrupt  lying voices
That whisper in my ear and make
Secret deals behind closed doors
Far far away from my conscious mind
Who is that mischievous characters
Always causing trouble the black adder

Although I do feel large and honest
Politicians within my soul
For they all sit around a long table
That stretches from my solar plexus
Up into my deep open chest
Dressed in light blue I hear them
Tirelessly working shuffling
Their many papers
Recording and studying making their
Many decisions and communicating
With all my many distant parts
Finding a new intimacy with my self    
I unlock many doors within me
As I search to please the
Great masses within my soul

On entering the outside world
My being shuffles past the many
Black adders with a chuckle
As he begins to enjoy
Their mischievous ways
My political mind becomes
Purified by the the emotional
Depths of my being , as I am
Infused with a deep ocean blue
From my bottomless heart  
As my path in this world
Becomes lubricated in a rich oily blue
Like a giant blue whale I effortless glide
And as  I meet the other I stand
Within my my golden heart
As my depths live on the outside
For I carry my heart on my sleave
As I search for the other a thousand
Golden streams from my heart
Descend into me
Penetrating all of me
To find all my honesty
As I seek to unlock the other
By unlocking many doors in me

The political mind can be mischievous
But it can be a great servant  
When in touch with our deep blue depths
And the golden threads leading to our heart
Well this is different see  what you think probably to long but i do  seem to really  struggle when asked to shorten them . Maybe i should leave them in the oven longer
Adam Mathieu Aug 2010
Darling, don't wipe those tears on your sleave
give me an hour or so
and I'll make your heart believe
that there is no place
in which our love can't go
and then there will be no more tears,
in their place will be a smile on your precious face
Drew Dockerty Feb 2013
A distant pair from far away, go to meet one fresh winter day.
Our glances meet we advance and take stock, A smile we have to each other we share
A touching hand to your lithe back, beckons you forth to near repast.
We sit and we settle surround by scuptured stone and welded metal, enjoying a laugh sharing in stores of long distant past.
My heart on my sleave like a beacon to you, giving you sight to see that my feelings are true.

Like a phoenix rising your fire blazes out rekindling your inner desire with a touch you renew.
We soared togeather to distant shores, each finding within a puzzle to fathom, to see where our future life lays.
Bret Desrochers Nov 2011
It seems that I can finally agree
About what everyone has said, involving you and me
Let's not slow down at all
I'll hold you tight when it all starts to fall

Hey baby, lets get out of here
Hey baby, tonight we can finally disappear

My heart skips a beat all the time
Thinking of you, I can hardly rhyme
I breath out carbon breath in air
Losing you was an awful scare

This town holds us back like a rope
Sending us into a downward *****
Wanting us to never leave
Never letting us wear our hearts on our sleave

Hey baby, lets get out of here
Hey baby, tonight we can finally disappear

Ooo Ooo Ooo

I wanna leave with you tonight!
I wanna escape with you tonight!
Copyright; Bret Desrochers
Alicia De Smet Jun 2017
It's been a year and a half.
A year and a half trying to figure things out.

Who am I?
What do I want in life?
What does friendship REALLY mean?
What is love?
Am I ready for love?

I think I know who I am today,
What I believe in.
I don't know who I'll be in ten years,
But I will be proud of the person I am right now.

I have NO clue what I want in life.
I want to be surrounded by people I care for.
Those people would be my friends, I suppose.

Friendship to me is being able to be your flawed self.
We all have out flaws, and I wear mine upon my sleave.

Love?
I love my family and friends.
They're the people I would die for.
It's unconditional, never ending and free of judgement.

I'm ready for love.
But I will never give someone the power to ever hurt me again.

These answers can change.
And I'm okay with that.

I've accepted that the dynamics of life can change you,
They define you as a person.
Sunny Snow Oct 2013
Here I am,
and here you are,
here, we are...together.
Together entwined,
Together I am yours,
and you are mine.
Cute as ****,
******* the system,
Crazy, loud and proud.
A twisted little love story,
So lets start somewhere in the middle,
Where I can't help but stare,
and you can't help but care.
Cause from the moment I saw you,
I liked you...
I liked your leather jacket,
I liked you devilish smerk,
but most of all,
I loved how you wear your heart,
on you sleave.
How you show people you care.
And I want you to know,
Regardless,
I'll always be there.
David Sharp Sep 2015
There's hope in your quailing shadow.
Venim gloss your smile.

Unlock the iron from your eyelids.
walk free anger from fury's inner exile.

Your head, a compendium of trouble
and corner-store flat battery fantasy.

The driven and the lonely
breaking up behind your denim sleave.
Tattoo loneliness sadness
Kelsie Cameron Jan 2011
She once told me that the world was beautiful, graceful, and all knowing.
She said that all you had to do was pick up a flower and you would know everything you needed to know.
As the flower started to wilt away she told me that you had to hold the stem tighter and look closer, but like the world, it was still beautiful.
She smiled the next day, and laughed as she told me the world could be better, but it was still all knowing.
The flower was discolored and had the consistancy of muddy grass. She told me that the world was full of remorse, terror, and violence. I looked at her, and I must have looked confused because she told me to look at her arms. She lifted her silk sleave and I noticed thin red lines going across her arms. She smiled with a tear in her eye and told me my world was beautiful. I never saw her again.
Yeah, I know this is a short story. But I just randomly thought of this.
Eris Feb 2019
why do                   I love?
when all it ever           did turned
into hurt, pain and       heartbreak
for my soul to         break in half
then I have to   mend to back
I love and it   never returns
for i wear  my heart
on a  sleave
every
time
why do i
SøułSurvivør Oct 2014
<3♡<3♡<3♥<3


i used to wear my
heart on my sleave

now it dresses in
camouflage and
hides in the weeds.


SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) October 2, 2014
Not to shoot down
Anything either.
To HIDE!
Untitled Mar 2014
Waves crashed,
Summer time,
Broken pieces,
She said she's "fine",

Leaves fell,
Fall time,
Earth was hell,
And words could never rhyme,

Birds leave,
Winter time,
A long sleave,
The sun no longer will shine,

The birds have already sung,
Spring time,
As the last breath escaped her lungs,
I could only look at her dead eyes, that were no longer mine.
Kaleigh Mar 2018
Often I feel like I'm floating.

Falling in space, boating in the seas of stars.

Then I open my eyes, reminding me of my scars.

Sometimes I drift from my body, wishing I was somebody.

That's when I remember who I am, embody my sadness.

I where it on my sleave, and no one seems to see.

Maybe I'll just leave.

Just Leave.

Riding bikes in the night, gliding across the blue clouds.

Beauitiful indigo eyes, please tell me I'm alright.

Because I'm not fine, not fine.

Carve our names into the trees, bees buzzing names of forgoten lovers.

Let us hide under the covers, let me dream of you being mine.

Your smile shines so bright, I wish I had that light.

All I think about is the machines that ring and ding.

A childhood dusted and buried in a grave.

My brain is melting, jumping onto the afternoon train.

Wind singing through my eardrums, that familar hum.

Floating, so far from earth, from here.

Some days I just want to disappear, drown in an ocean of beer.

The taste feeling so clear, the fear burning as I sneer.

Just let me go, its already too late.

Dont' wait, just leave me to my fate.

The tip of gun causes my mouth to go dry.

I told you, my head is fried.

The barrel pressing tight.

I'm sorry my only friend, myself.

I let you down.
SheOfNeverland Jun 2014
I hate you and
The taste that you leave
You're like that hideous stain
I can't get off of my sleave
I hate the way you kiss
And the way your **** would miss
As if i were too small to find
Too dumb to mind
That you abused me every
Night and all day
And just when i thought i got away
You reel me in and hold me tight
And promise me that i'm alright.
Choke me til i hit the floor
**** me til i beg for more
Hit me til i see the stars
Throw my body in the car...
But you loved me then and
Love me still
And i know i have until
I give my heart to someone new
And break your broken heart in two
two...
And i would hate to see the
Sleepy tears
That fall from cheek to sheet
For years
For every night and think of you
And all the things we used to do
Before the whole world went all mad
Before my days were dark and sad
Before the fists and blood and sweat
Before i could make myself forget
Those three long years of
No tomorrows
The three long years
Of hopeless sorrows.
The Dedpoet Oct 2017
Remember something that ties,
Something that holds
Holds the stilled face
In the cavernous heart,
Like a shirt worn
In a way that it tore
Itself into your mind,
Because they cannot see
Time and the finite body
Cannot contain the soul,
But remember the spirit
Of the displays through flesh,
Because the infernal
Tear that burns
Upon dying cheeks whom
Utter hate and love
With last breaths at the same
Time joy and sorrow complete
Then whispered life,
They cannot wear another
Sleave, adjust another collar,
Wear that shirt in a certain way,

Because the body
Is only action
In a windfall,
And every one grows apart
To syncing the mad pace
Toward death,
Because the earth swallows
All,
Please, please remember
Something that ties,
A memory's drift
The eye of invisible winds.
Pain always finds me, and I can say
That I am always happy at the end of the day.
I want to bleed out, and I want to go away...
Pain always finds me and I am always happy....

My nostrals breathe I know I am alone
There is no heart on my sleave, no one to call home
This universe is crooked and I am alone
I wished that you would at least reside in my home

Pain always finds me I hate you. I hate you
Pain always finds me I hit you I hate you.
I want to go away I want to bleed out
You asked and I answered.

It had been too long since we had been alone.

Just us, a great lake, and some dancing lights.

I watched you taking pictures, you noticed and turned the camera on me.

My sundress and copper waves blew any which way the wind commanded while I put my eyes on the lens.

In the shot they are dancing, the cornflower of my iris along with the purple and green lights in the night sky.

The corners of your wide mouth turned up when I slid down one sleave then the other to let the dress fall to the mix of smooth rock and course sand.

Snap.
flash.
Snap.
Flash.

I did not have to say it.

I gave the look you have known forever and you sat the camera down.

You tasted of the blackberry wine in our glasses. I drank you up.

So thirsty. So very eager.

Your heart raced beneath the hand I rested on your chest for support.

Your mouth then danced over

lip

chin

neck

shoulder

breast

rib

stomach

hip

lips
take it to the beat watch us meet to greet fooling in the street
tripping on the beach smoking fat leaves doing what you please
as busy as a bee making sweet history
there's a battle for your mind I'm just the walking blind
society is not my game inside of my cause there blind you see from most of reality
there is an army of peeps out in the streets crystal gold down to their feet
with shattered glass on the walkway I came to play
the stage is set and the studio is fine all my critics can kiss my fat behind
homies try to control me with their dope analogy but why even bother it  gets even sadder
like nothing more to flatter the steps upon my ladder so here it goes
it used to be dope many years ago let the truth be told that folks used to smile
when i was a child I used to dream big dreams of both kings & queens
living in a land that is so very mean yet many are rushing too fast
everybody lately wants to get by on some free pass to pass
the stereo is blasting higher and higher blown up in its fullest desire on a wire
everybody feel me among my dope melody many folks will let me be
pump up the music so you can hear a way we can shed a tear
long hair on your birthday where we come to pray yet some may claim it ought not be that way...
flirting with fire in blown up desire coming down to the wire a gun for higher
got the hook up peeps on this dope joint fine grafted in from a delicate design
beats to the rhyme rhyme for the reason its just the changing of the season

block parties with steroe blasting watch how you acting & i'm not bragging
folks that carry everything inside we used to help thank God your still alive
but todays news you sing the blues and let things slide coming along for the ride
rap is still hot just take the word to the street and watch your rhymes to the beat
taking it to the city where cash is king people scream eating delicious ice cream
blind people so mean eating at fast food places such as Burger King
minus the races stuck in Peyton places we tend to make a lot of mistakes in
flirting with fire blown up in its fullest of desire getting much higher
Jimi was right by saying "Excuse me while I kiss the sky" !
almost every drive by someone gets capped from a nine in their eye
but give pause to think as you wink in earthly bliss in a caught up moment in time
Solid gold moments from our past having so much fum with a hope that it would last
so you sit back in your bleachers staying up late night watching another double feature

Laughter is the best medicine while your stuck in seventh heaven
therefore gain wisdom and in all thy getting gain understanding
free styling to the extreme while living in a land so very mean
Creatures of habit in the night with long viscious fangs that fright
eyes of blakened faces of death we all will come to unrest
rap it up I'll take it so you don't have to fake it
will bust a move to show improved knowledge of the underground sound
we are built to last we are raised to shine created in a beautiful design
sugar is sweet so sweet like honey I'm going to be the man that take home the money
nothing phony cause I got my degree cause all of life is but a mystery
got something up my sleave as you rest your case in your Peyton Place
don't try to hurt me again my ill but forgotten friend with whom I came to depend
It's either my way or the highway couldn't have it any other way
life is filled with mistakes some call this their fate but here am I to date
what's been done has all been done before such as Tony Sack kicking it with a two bit *****
Keep it in check as I let this last line flow bust up the beat & Increase the tempo
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2019
.sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave
of care,
       the death of each day's life,
   sore labour's bath.
                      balm of hurt minds,
great nature's second course,
  chief nourisher of life's feast.


                                    Macbeth.

awe in omiscron,
and sigh to fire-up a catch
in H...

    profound words,
lesser tunes,
               out from a broken
lyre: a consumate of -
a life lived is but one
concern:
a life remembered is:
but all of
man's concerns...

       in acknowledged
patience:
  i, pertinent -
remove myself from:
what feeds the throng
& the scabs &
      a thrice of
           st. Peter's cockerel...

i: bored of death,
linger with a thought of:
life hardly teasing
a: consumate actor...
hardly second:
             a worthy reciter...

there are islands worth
of heart: in
staging an answer:
said heart, the entombed
stone mind replied:

a bruise no baron
a depth no plum...
a plucked scatter
of colour -
          a plushed
squint of: the forbidden
word.

what a life:
with no sudden endeavour
to fare...
           come aligned
nonetheless...
  and come:
             to the myriad of
a man's inhibited
                 scout:
with a via, no versus:
   with only himself
                           in tow...

it's hardly a surprise...
Leibniz contra
Newton
  and the discovery
of the infinitesimal calculus...
Leibniz?
   became a librarian...
Newton?
   was buried in Westminster
cathedral...
            
   for the content
of heart:
                 one's heart
is not the fruition
of one's mind's ambition...

for the heart:
i come as i please,

for the mind:
          i am forever settled
in conjuring
a disgruntled
      attachment to it:
which i am yet
to dislodge myself
from:
               the acrobatics
of ego:
     and
no psychoanalytical
p.s.
                  
              what world
& precursor stand,
   to heave a worth of self
into:
   by the same
intricacies of demand -
not halved & not feasted upon -
yet consecrate
          by the barbarian
        bitten:
   a chisel & tooth:
to march forth
            a marble stature for:
               the alignment of limbs...

all of this...
for the nought of
a blink's worth of tomorrow...
and a tomorrow:
as beige as what isn't
the number: associated
               with grey...

i have tired -
   extracting superficial
standards for a comparison:
whereby i, am of
the consecration for
the acknowledgement of...
"worth"...

                       this labyrinth
of thought:
         has no i's worth
of a minotaur
       to burden itself with,
& for...

             i am but
a scatter of the freely available
worth of a grasped
                      bundle of
autumn's leaves...
      in that:
the certainty of death...
   precursors a life -
if: not lived toward
attiring itself with a fulfilling
summary...

         leaves me...
in want of:
acribing it...
a denial of the petty
wants of
the people who:
wish upon it a variant
of a shift
in the closed-off
bureaucracy of hierarchies...

enough in the numbers:
to hide
    a failed enterprise
of scratched in text...

           for the concerns of:
when all that once
agitated...
   becomes...
                  exhausting
         to even begin to mind.
An OP Dream Evil Scheme
trash in container...
frosted ritualistic leader
follow the leader
smell the smoke of the liberal..,
barren streets as they lay
philosophical sway..,
leader in their manure crusted deal...
trace back a dream

87 Still alive,
parachutter calmness
explosive *** stain
***** in their out sleave

parting their up swing
how you fought so hard an fierce
my truest love was gone from here
challenge to be free is a question of time,
my one solution is using my mind
living on the edge and its going to my head
sitting up night alone in bed
following the rainbow to their sky

— The End —