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I sat nursing a overpriced draft in a underated dive
in Carolina.
I won't go into the details of it's location.
I won't be there by the time of anyone reading this.

And moments are just that and best left alone.
It was a empty bar .
Only me  and the bartender and we weren't here for conversation.
I was avoiding the heat and like some B movie vampire in his coffin.
I found no need to view the light only burn my night world existence.

I never really liked bars much.
The people were pretty much the same social circle rejects and broken
highschool hero's who relived glory one beer at a time.

They always hated the jukebox .
Me I preferred a good song over some far fetched lie
about how some **** ******* saved the game.

Honestly I enjoyed a good drink and some even better music.
As well as the night's silence.
Simple people hate silence.
It forces them to think.
And thinking is a dangerous task for a halfwit.

Course I had to escape my hermit existence sometimes.
Air out my stale thoughts at least for awhile.

I sat there spending what little I never truly had to begin with.
Semi cold beer and smoke the perfume of my thoughts.
I shared only with the wasted page.

Hey mind turning on the jukebox?
I asked the silent man  sitting across the bar.

It's broke he said and nothing more.
Well seems me and that machine have something in common.

Sometimes stepping outside seemed like a good idea.
Until you realize outside is filled with a bunch of annoying ******!

I never went back to that dive although I hear the jukebox was later
replaced .
With some game that sat at the end of the bar like some idiot box microwave.

Still I think it has more personality than that bartender .
Course I believe at abuck a play it's overrated to begin with.

Cheers.
Steph Portuguez Jan 2020
Headache:

Illusion,
hidden,
non-existent,
unexpected persistence.
Annoying obsession with their secrets
plead guilty to an endless stagnation of the thoughts, watch the time,
don’t you dare to run that fast,
what an unfair distance of my past.

I’m in love with the moment I believed the lies.

Merry ******* Christmas:

The smell of December afternoons remind me of my beloved lost field,
a place where their fears didn’t fit.
The ocean at night, the foam of the waves, the unknown submerged, the revenge of the whales.

The sincere,
hideous,
laughter of the kid,
charming snort of embarrassment,
disaster and awkwardness well deserved for the king.

I’ve never felt the snow of the winter’s tale,
never believed in the white bearded obese man,
the red walking miracle in flesh or in the newborn baby on a December night.

But when I look at the skies, I do try to look for that star, I do sit calmly on the swing of my hometown park, tried to comprehend the distance between me and the unreachable sky.
Wish I have a big enough fan so I can scatter the clouds, wish I could find someone else
as intrigued and dissatisfied as myself.
But what if there’s no one up there?

Friendship:

When we were all friends,
remember! When our ties weren’t supposed to be unleashed, when our blood our pinky were as sacred as unique.
Remember! The sunset at that abandoned ***** beach, the ringing of my ears unexpectedly started to emit, that sublime but creepy melody, that made us all smirk,
as well predictedwe lost the sun that evening, my peers.
We lost it all, the carless state of being ashamed, the bruises and the scrapes.
Our disgusting bitten blue nails, the eggnog sticked in our greasy hair, the ashes from Mr.Bobby’s dog, the lust and hopeless mood on our road to fictional love, the promised goodbye, our last play on the trash, we didn’t know it was the last.

Bedroom:

When did I stand up from my bed? Looked at the ceiling, increasing emotions of defeated.
I rejected the successful, luminous path.
Neither abomination nor ambition, I spied on their lives, neither shame nor proudness for them.
They became the ensembles of relate, the shadow of triumph, the dinner for the lions.
I was still standing there, my toes were nailed to the soil, my neurons were paralyzed, almost to the void. My heart was projecting an image of familiarity, a far but so near remembrance of sweet tragedy.

Fantasy road:

That dead end road, that nightmare but dreamy  orgasam, I never claimed to stop.
I just wanted to sit, on that beautiful but desolated long street.
Heat penetrating through my **** cheeks, our lingering truth was shut down by the stormy roof, the instant picture of our nostalgic bereavement, that half smile of nearly achievement.

Smile in the war:

The yearn for crying of joy, bliss, felicity that feeling of undestroyed.
Never cried it but so desired it, I want my red lipstick to be wiped off, my mascara to be inked into my leather and soul.
I want my jeans, my sneakers to be burnt off, all in flames, cremated remains into its lust.

Episodes of coconut:

I’ve always liked to go through the tempest alone,
one day I won’t be able to let go.
I erased the paranoia by holding my tears, supress the tsunami in front of my dears.
When my voice breaks, my hands start to shake, I look away.
Please don’t hug me, my heart might explote, I don’t wanna sail again this flood.
I’m the the Dictator of Happinessland, I’ll be smiling even when my ******* will be full of sand.
I built the highway of miserable state, I found comfort on being wrong in a good way.

Friendship:

There are just shadows walking, now all I see are their ghosts.
****** up and vanished from the streets of the yesterday.
Actions, promises, we were gonna be last the ridiculous standing.
It never mattered, It won’t never matter.

Bedroom:

I’ll disintegrate myself supposing someday I’ll try my best.
I’ll decompose myself shouting from my mattress, my cave,  such a shame.
Friends are called dogs to me, human companions are named Mom and Dad.
The more pathetic it gets, hide your bother, don’t watch me cry.

Child in the last row:

I used to think that someday I would understand, “when I grow old I’ll celebrate to be them”.
The times at the backyard, the mud  in my palms, my old tamagotchi was my lethal weapon on display, these naughty aliens won’t get my by any chance.
I peed in the line to brushing  my teeth, nobody remembers how I cried, nobody remembers me  in fact.
I was the first to get caught in the game, my rolls didn’t allow me to run, I tried to keep my posture, I still fell, that garbage can just got in my way, what a winner I became.
The teacher’s room was our getaway from the tumult of recess, what a 12 year old badass.
We’re just practicing the flute, it’s too much of noise outside ma'am.
I’ll just spin on the chair until the bell rings, keep making sounds with this stupid instrument that I never learnt to play.
The Winnie the Pooh mural never meant nothing to my eyes, the words  “don’t rush and sit to enjoy” were just a low whisper to my ears. I  feel nothing when I left. I’m feeling everything every sunrise on this Earth.

The failure of the butter:

The bathrooms smelled like purification of golden ****, the humidity didn’t permit me to look at myself, I prefer to watch them put make up on their clean, pretty flesh.
I used to fall to the wet ground even more oftently back then, I weirdly enjoyed it, those goofy laughs gave me life. These times we’re inseparable, the grass and bullet ants will never disturb us at any predicted chance.
The destroyer was disguised as ourselves and the mysterious minion, the so called inevitable time. We were just pretending to care. “Change” the old enemy of many out there, a bittersweet goodbye to you, my dear idiotic  friend.

Heartache:

That old pathetic wish to go backwards to the point of start or the moment you’d like to be frozen in time. The universe might be immense, the complainings of my mind are not that irrelevant to care. I was built to properly play their master game. My energy is too low, pass me another battery of wise ignorance. I’d like to be normal and logical again. The acceptance from the tribe, the acceptance of our lie.

The end of the train rail? :

I’ll brusquely let my back lay on the soil with this rocking chair, I’m trying to restart this smudgy aged brain.
As I  fell to the void, as my spine cracked, my skull brutally bounced, my memory gently engaged the regret. The free gift of my private sold ache.
As a venomous serpent I spread the bitterness to my environs, my well kept tears where drowning  my designated  ones, their love was on doubt, I owned the fault. I owe them all.
The psychedelic trip was ruined by my old desperation, my frustrated self,  scratching inside from home sweet home of indignation.
Memories of ****** and self- joy,  blurred, exported and deleted to the never void.
I experienced the underated pain, I praised to gain and gain, I lost the nostalgia of the better days, I locked my desires of the will to vividly feel, I warmed up my limbs to melt down my putrefaction of thrills,  I sank myself into the state of not that sad and crippled ****,  I missed the unforgettable moment  of getting trapped next to the not so evil man, I poorly drew my fate, I’ll miserable forever stay. I camly crawled on the sand, “agony let me lay down”, I felt envy of the moon, I watched all of your glances, you all seemed like wondering when it was going to end.

Am I still here yet?
Classy J Jul 2016
Got on my Nike's and my sweats and classy T-shirt, blasting my music bout to blast off, so please beam me up captain kirk. Roger that, watch your back, building up a movement and then i be putting it on my back. Running away, no man I'm running towards, I came to make history I don't give a crap about Grammy's or Oscar awards. So political, when you get in the business, but I'm a independent rapper with a unique style, I'm underated but awesome like Nintendo's ness. Time to get out, time to work out, can't hold me back, if you mess with me I'll turn you into a pelt. Scottish blood, native blood, french blood, English blood, imma ethnically cleanse you all like I'm a flood. Going hard, getting strong, while some people smoke bongs I spent my time writing these songs.

Mayday, make way, for classy j the future class be destroying anything in his way like he doomsday. Time piece, time to make my peace, feel like I'm on top of the world, grooving and singing so much you think I was a star in grease. Moving on up, movement is **** tough, but i be been known for persevering through it even though it may be rough. Touch down, make them scream make them jump, life is like a box a chocolates yeah I got that from my one of my favorite movies forest gump. Time off, nah man I'm timing in, man it feels so good to feel alive again. I'm having the time of my life, yeah working out is totally worth it, I'm so glad I did not end my life. A little bit of positivity never hurt, changed the style a little bit but I still got a mouth of a murk.

Undalay undalay ese, que pasa hombre, I love mexico man, drinking all night, till next thing I know its already Sunday. Oh crap, I got to get to the flight, even though I got a wicked hangover and don't completely have any sight. Party time, making them rounds, bouncing through every town or city, leaving boring people at the pound. Give me the crown, never see me coming like a RKO, come in the ring and I'll be like Muhammad Ali and with one hit the bell rings as a result of a tko. Free styling every time I write these raps, I can do this in my sleep, yeah you definitely don't hear this kind of rap anymore that why I woke it from it's nap. I was born with it, its one of my many gifts I bring to the table, anything is possible if you believe you are good and able. Locked and loaded, revelled and scolded, don't put my name in italics boy, for a real man's name is bolded.

Time to work out, time to get out and actually live, in the world there is a lot more take then there is a lot more give. So turnt up and ready to have a good time, so turn that music up and bring out some fancy whine. Positivity and negativity, yin and Yan is what I deliver to thee. Good meets bad, but what happens when the immovable object meets the irresistible force, searching for answers, going into the matrix man, yeah I'm getting plugged into the source. Teaching you how to dougie, hip hop and contemporary is the way to go, danced all night now I'm all groggy. Tripping out, drinking energy drinks, cause when I party I go all out. Its funny how as a teen I never had to many friends and never got invited to party's, it cool though because now I get invited to them, and you can bet that a party with me is saucy.

Hitting that one two step, nay nay every day, dancing is such a work out, tell that to your mother the next time you go down by the bay. I could rap all day if I wanted, man I'm on fire, you bet your **** i be going 100. Inspired by tupac and biggie smalls, Canadian born y'all, my rhymes are as magestic as Niagara falls. Back to the subject, working out a message to give to my public. To sum up this rap, stop being so negative, work out, get out, and make sure you take less and instead try to increasingly give.
Marcus Belcher Nov 2015
Humbleness is greatness
Underated and debateless
My master taught me well
In that cell is hell
Laying burdens to your mind
Infected over time
Teach the youth the truth
Yell it every time in the booth
More random works
deyrah Jun 2021
I'm pretty sure the word is underated
Too frequently used, that we forget to attach a meaning while saying it.
The sole proprietors of sentiments
The quintessence of woman-hood.
The utter embodiment of love.
The spitting images of all things "care"
And the place where all happiness are fulfilled.
The ones who sat and washed our infant heads, from infancy to adults, they still wash us up in their own way.
Her embrace, gives you warmth, erases a blizzard from our aching hearts.
The ones who say "i love you" by adding an additional serving of food to you.
Our falling pillers, who helps us stand, despite falling.
We may not always see eye, to eyes or say it, but...
I love you!
This is an ode, to African mothers. Our back bones!
Michael John May 21
i
i

people can be cruel-
well,i did n´t care but
these morons could n´t

pull their socks on..
they said the same things
every time..

i tried to divert  them
but in the end
stayed quiet and

drank my wine..
after about an hour
they said,you don´t

say much do-do you
no,i was dreaming of nirvarna
hope and beauty..

heaven and hell
just recurring  themes
crime and punishment

the futility of it
all..
back is underated..

ii

..and then lily
stagger the long road
to the beach

and lay my head
in among the bugs
and distant song..

— The End —