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"starks" poems
How Sweetingly Rare to see this Advise, The Westfold Bard who shares this Ancient Art But Performed it Better to his Concise And took Definition for his Good Part I just knew you now. So what of belate As Mentored Dolphins with Water's Tie befriend I found this Artist; This Cornerstone Great And Hope your Elder's Tongue will never end You, Sir, confirmed my Efforts; This I Bow And hand you the Medal I sought to seek I am no Patron; Neither plan so now Only the Purest Abe in Honest meek. Now please Sing on, and Live to Peak Content I write my Sighs; But these Praises I meant.
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Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE: JOHN STARKS
DEAR ENPAL PEOPLE, a poem to the dark;-?> worn out faces empty starks from deepest embraces once called on together never true alone even better neon lights blame them on the lonely nights in advance I get the train traffic another chance elevated the chills things that can't be drowned upon stupid pills done with healing now the skin put to the pealing set red to the lies gazes speak in dresses fancy to die time scattered on the desk slow motion in a black marker all clear devotion eternal freeze when the upside embraced the back some disease contagious when escaped cant **** even when baked ----ravenfeels
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Jul 22, 2021
Jul 22, 2021 at 4:07 PM UTC
Once Marked Promises
They hailed Robb of Houses Stark and Tully as the King in the North, he marched to **** his father's killers he marched to save his sisters The Young Wolf,they called him he'd never lost a battle his howls echoed all over the North aye,her son fought valiantly but he lost a sword pierced through his heart, her name on his lips 'Mother.' his first and last words she screamed in agony they took her husband's head, her daughters' innocence, her sons' hearts. they made her watch the executioner take her son's head they made her watch her daughter-in-law beg for help as the men took turns ****** her when the lion's banners were hanged and the wolves killed they pulled her hair, slit her throat, threw her naked in the river and no one forgot, the Starks of Winterfell. The North Remembers The North Remembers
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Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 3:13 PM UTC
The North Remembers
the art i feel is part of our daily smart to do it heart we must start realising light is part bright and part might darkeness to it guises and starks empty comes out white the two do not right speechless is swiped.
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Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC
arty
It aint hard to tell I excite those who dwell In my presence my foes be hesitant Deliberating debating and hating Welcome in the sons of satan Watch my gun get blatant Belligerent despairing the hearts of The innocent Most people dont follow rules I refuse to be a mule **** youtube rules and the punk *** trollers move over There a new sheriff in town Shot the da va and deputy Now whos wearin' the crowns ? King of the original jew whoever knew I would be born inside of a jail cell Made from hell learned the best from sniffin' yeyo My pang couldnt even hold on whale scales Take short of the L then inhale Turn spectators skins pale When the reporters try to yell But cant escape deaths bail It aint hard to tell Know i got haters Following me like Jesus I resurrected hip hop Im Lazarus disastrous My crew wrecks only In guns we trust til our barrels rust Wipe out the must Got keep a clean mind when i grind Looking for the ultimate sunshine Middle fingers to one time The narcs hidin' the parks Im lightin' em up like John Starks My mid range is wicked past sadistic Just being realistic So if ya wanna be a statistic I advise ya remain un Belligerent Broke the mental shackles When life started to tackle I got curious as a jackal Laughin' at my enemies all the way to the bank Mis the feds foes to hoes And pop open the drank blaze the pounds While ill count my franks That means my money banks Ill leave ya mind stiff as a plank When i drop these lyrical bombshells Yo it aint hard to tell
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Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 3:18 PM UTC
It Ain't hard to Tell G
It aint hard to tell I excite those who dwell In my presence my foes be hesitant Deliberating debating and hating Welcome in the sons of satan Watch my gun get blatant Belligerent despairing the hearts of The innocent Most people dont follow rules I refuse to be a mule **** youtube rules and the punk *** trollers move over There a new sheriff in town Shot the da va and deputy Now whos wearin' the crowns ? King of the original jew whoever knew I would be born inside of a jail cell Made from hell learned the best from sniffin' yeyo My pang couldnt even hold on whale scales Take short of the L then inhale Turn spectators skins pale When the reporters try to yell But cant escape deaths bail It aint hard to tell Know i got haters Following me like Jesus I resurrected hip hop Im Lazarus disastrous My crew wrecks only In guns we trust til our barrels rust Wipe out the must Got keep a clean mind when i grind Looking for the ultimate sunshine Middle fingers to one time The narcs hidin' the parks Im lightin' em up like John Starks My mid range is wicked past sadistic Just being realistic So if ya wanna be a statistic I advise ya remain un Belligerent Broke the mental shackles When life started to tackle I got curious as a jackal Laughin' at my enemies all the way to the bank Mis the feds foes to hoes And pop open the drank blaze the pounds While ill count my franks That means my money banks Ill leave ya mind stiff as a plank When i drop these lyrical bombshells Yo it aint hard to tell
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Standing on morals and values How you? Sit here and not shed a tear In this atmosphere Hells been here my dear Listen to the sounds of the wind Paintin' an image you could see within Soul dwellin' spells sailin' Like boats on oceans **** a notion and stop Sippin' the mental potion Nothing but poison causing noises To the intellects Folks so confused they dont Know what to reject Whats thrown at em Pitches up and i bat em Out the park Slicker than John Starks On the court Light my spark **** in the dark Take a trip through my mind And let the chakras tingle your spine Im genuine So anxious notorious when my guns bust Through the evils hearts Of mankind no rewind We going forward marchin' While ya barkin' At cars that be parked and We clear benches from distances Strong as stance None could separate this This part of yosef anthology Who am i? Who are we? Stuck in the game calles society Pawns place carefully Gotta strategize my moves swiftly Or else they'll catch me Slippin- destiny to the penitentiary Or an early cemetery Like young revolutionaries No longer scared no fear Mama dry yo tears and hear Me talking to your mind javelin' While my spirit travelin' To unknown destinations No subjugations make it through any situation of the litigation No hesitation thugs in migrations No imatitin' raw with our hits No fakin' slam ya Blake Griffin Got lots of guns So dont be trippin' strippin' Titles off men and men off titles Im an ultimate rival To the system its the survival Of the fittest **** this Life ill die broke than a slave Cursed to the carnal sins of man But then again Spirits will guide me again To where it all began The garden of Eden You'll see the demons risin' in earthly form Next to you breathin'
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Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 3:23 AM UTC
Black Panther
Standing on morals and values How you? Sit here and not shed a tear In this atmosphere Hells been here my dear Listen to the sounds of the wind Paintin' an image you could see within Soul dwellin' spells sailin' Like boats on oceans **** a notion and stop Sippin' the mental potion Nothing but poison causing noises To the intellects Folks so confused they dont Know what to reject Whats thrown at em Pitches up and i bat em Out the park Slicker than John Starks On the court Light my spark **** in the dark Take a trip through my mind And let the chakras tingle your spine Im genuine So anxious notorious when my guns bust Through the evils hearts Of mankind no rewind We going forward marchin' While ya barkin' At cars that be parked and We clear benches from distances Strong as stance None could separate this This part of yosef anthology Who am i? Who are we? Stuck in the game calles society Pawns place carefully Gotta strategize my moves swiftly Or else they'll catch me Slippin- destiny to the penitentiary Or an early cemetery Like young revolutionaries No longer scared no fear Mama dry yo tears and hear Me talking to your mind javelin' While my spirit travelin' To unknown destinations No subjugations make it through any situation of the litigation No hesitation thugs in migrations No imatitin' raw with our hits No fakin' slam ya Blake Griffin Got lots of guns So dont be trippin' strippin' Titles off men and men off titles Im an ultimate rival To the system its the survival Of the fittest **** this Life ill die broke than a slave Cursed to the carnal sins of man But then again Spirits will guide me again To where it all began The garden of Eden You'll see the demons risin' in earthly form Next to you breathin'
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When the snow falls When the white winds blow The lone wolf dies But the pack survives The memories of fall Summer was a paradise of gold the lions and others came Killed the loyal wolves But the others were gone Into the woods and beneath it all The remaining ones came Returned to their home They protected each other
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Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 8:41 AM UTC
The Starks.
18th August -Before the autumn arrives Fourteen more sunsets to witness Fourteen more endings to caress I'll watch sturgeon for the last time Gonna get 'ma-aslama' from August very soon 'Fall' will be evoked for what the September strives Gonna have an eye-catch since it's a 'corn moon' Summer will kiss you for the last time Before the Autumn arrives! Have to suffer a few more starks Season leaving autumnal marks My cozy lights ambering my darks... Final Equinox in the doorway is driving These elm splinters are substantiating That the autumn is arriving!! My darkened panes reminiscing autumn rains Rains on the crisp dead leaves Triggering seasonal pains 'Ash' will perform his last ballet Before he dives; 'Walnuts' will play their nonchalant rhythms Before he arrives!!! Leaves and the branches parting ways Trees bearing insane death Four are over already in these verses Now the days are ten left! ~vairagya
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Aug 24, 2024
Aug 24, 2024 at 12:36 PM UTC
-Before the autumn arrives!
Come here baby girl I like the way ya lips lickin' As the sweat tricklin' down ya golden brown skin Let's polish the sin as I breeze like the wind I'm just flowing blowing air dont really care About ya lion hair as I stare gazin' you so amazin' Got me phasin' out of my fantasy drawin' me into reality I realize you the one for me I feel like Tony Starks an Iron Man and yes we can form a reign band Hurricane portals of money flow see me on the go Know the feelin' is natural love your sparkle Candle light mentality smilin' at me Bringing much ecstasy lay out your creativity I know they don't honor your beauty but admire your ***** its my duty To keep ya mind a clicking finger lickin' As I watch ya hips rotate like rotisserie chicken Got me trippin' mad haters dippin' set trippin' Cuz they see our energy grow sow below The skyline clouds paintin' a perfect design No player lines im just tryna to re-design ya mind You'll never find a thirst like mines Cravin' for your attention so I'm misbehavin' Play a black Raven stay coverin' your heart's haven No need to be ashamed of ya sins back bends I'll take for you laying clues to glue Your mind on me let's face the issue Babygirl its just me and you a skillful team of two
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Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 9:39 PM UTC
My Lily the One n Only
for Daniel “Chappie” James, General USAF and for the 332d Fighter Group Being black in America was the Original Catch, so no one was surprised by 22: The segregated airstrips, separate camps. They did the jobs they’d been trained to do. Black ground crews kept them in the air; black flight surgeons kept them alive; the whole Group removed their headgear when another pilot died. They were known by their names: “Ace” and “Lucky,” “Sky-hawk Johnny,” “Mr. Death.” And by their positions and planes. Red Leader to Yellow Wing-man, do you copy? If you could find a fresh egg you bought it and hid it in your dopp-kit or your boot until you could eat it alone. On the night before a mission you gave a buddy your hiding-places as solemnly as a man dictating his will. There’s a chocolate bar in my Bible; my whiskey bottle is inside my bedroll. In beat-up Flying Tigers that had seen action in Burma, they shot down three German jets. They were the only outfit in the American Air Corps to sink a destroyer with fighter planes. Fighter planes with names like “By Request.” Sometimes the radios didn’t even work. They called themselves “Hell from Heaven.” This Spookwaffe. My father’s old friends. It was always maximum effort: A whole squadron of brother-men raced across the tarmac and mounted their planes. My tent-mate was a guy named Starks. The funny thing about me and Starks was that my air mattress leaked, and Starks’ didn’t. Every time we went up, I gave my mattress to Starks and put his on my cot. One day we were strafing a train. Strafing’s bad news: you have to fly so low and slow you’re a pretty clear target. My other wing-man and I exhausted our ammunition and got out. I recognized Starks by his red tail and his rudder’s trim-tabs. He couldn’t pull up his nose. He dived into the train and bought the farm. I found his chocolate, three eggs, and a full fifth of his hoarded-up whiskey. I used his mattress for the rest of my tour. It still bothers me, sometimes: I was sleeping on his breath.
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Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 8:06 PM UTC
Lonely Eagles By Marilyn Nelson
for Daniel “Chappie” James, General USAF and for the 332d Fighter Group Being black in America was the Original Catch, so no one was surprised by 22: The segregated airstrips, separate camps. They did the jobs they’d been trained to do. Black ground crews kept them in the air; black flight surgeons kept them alive; the whole Group removed their headgear when another pilot died. They were known by their names: “Ace” and “Lucky,” “Sky-hawk Johnny,” “Mr. Death.” And by their positions and planes. Red Leader to Yellow Wing-man, do you copy? If you could find a fresh egg you bought it and hid it in your dopp-kit or your boot until you could eat it alone. On the night before a mission you gave a buddy your hiding-places as solemnly as a man dictating his will. There’s a chocolate bar in my Bible; my whiskey bottle is inside my bedroll. In beat-up Flying Tigers that had seen action in Burma, they shot down three German jets. They were the only outfit in the American Air Corps to sink a destroyer with fighter planes. Fighter planes with names like “By Request.” Sometimes the radios didn’t even work. They called themselves “Hell from Heaven.” This Spookwaffe. My father’s old friends. It was always maximum effort: A whole squadron of brother-men raced across the tarmac and mounted their planes. My tent-mate was a guy named Starks. The funny thing about me and Starks was that my air mattress leaked, and Starks’ didn’t. Every time we went up, I gave my mattress to Starks and put his on my cot. One day we were strafing a train. Strafing’s bad news: you have to fly so low and slow you’re a pretty clear target. My other wing-man and I exhausted our ammunition and got out. I recognized Starks by his red tail and his rudder’s trim-tabs. He couldn’t pull up his nose. He dived into the train and bought the farm. I found his chocolate, three eggs, and a full fifth of his hoarded-up whiskey. I used his mattress for the rest of my tour. It still bothers me, sometimes: I was sleeping on his breath.
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