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Max Neumann Sep 2020
kidz are smoking my songs, drinkin' and sniffin'
welcome to the trip-inn, where magic is grippin'
the tragic city, neon lights, neon lights, demon's nights
i'm all in, never ever falling, swirling frisky, like a frisbee

45 to 88, made myself a shake
beat like an earthquake, first take
crying for a remake, dying for a remake
1000 tons of cheesecake, beafsteakz

yummy yummy, my past was slummy
so, you find tizzop where the ice is
my lifestyle is priceless, priceless
i don't care, nobody is viceless

how could one dare to imitate this flair?
i don't say words, i shout "yeah yeah!"
ipod-white teeth, you stop to breathe
and now be good, baby, get on ya knees
Ian Beckett Mar 2014
1,000 miles from the Merry Christmas muzak in Port Moresby
Fat Brisbane taxi philosopher’s poor mouth moaning season
Navan road Sydney AMEX girl pining for the cold in Dublin
Along with traditional stuffing of turkey ham and trimmings.  

10,000 miles to London via sticky Bangkok “Merry Clistmas”
And cattle class envy of First class lounge showers mid-flight
But Jetlag is the same nightmare at both ends of the plane
As we fly across the universe to be home for Christmas.

1,000,000 people flying to their friends and families
Do all those sad, glad, bad, mad once-a-year reunions
Make it to Happy New Year without killing each other
Resolving to be prosperous, viceless and happy again?
Matt Aug 2018
So here we are at last.
The final resting place of a suffering man.
Hold your hats in remembrance of a crippled soul who longed for a voice and died in silence.
This is who he was:

He began a snowflake, apart from the rest,
And effortlessly, he was a part of the best.
His wit was like lightning, his heart full of care.
And from a young age he was covered in hair.

He grew overconfident, failing to try,
When a glimmer of smoke caught his curious eye.
My love, he remembered, he couldnt forget:
From then on his fate was to all permanent.

He toked on his glassware til end of the day,
His assets and worries all fluttered away.
His friends made abandon, his parents distressed.
Yet he still thought that he was a part of the best.

Pride was his drug of most absolute choice.
His modestly, whole heartedly lost its voice.
Yet he remained steadfast in his pain.
For how could he blame his true love Mary jane?

She led him to xanax, ******* and some pills,
Til that fateful day he grew morally ill.
His only 2 friends to a doctor they took him
And from then on he was a man that was broken.

Sorrow filled his dry viceless soul
As sober induce evil took on a toll
He was a machine and the liquor his tool
To extinguish the fire of a born again fool.

Handcuffs became just a part of the ride
And capsules flowed in Like a north eastern tide.
The drugs like a salt dried up all he had left.
He was poor and alone with a craving for death.

He got what he wanted, that poor depressed man.
But a new one arose with a much better plan.
**** all that ******* with drugs and liquor
If I go back down that road, I'll perish for sure.

So what did he do, after part of him died.
Well he grew the **** up and he finally tried.
He tried and he tried til success he did meet.
And he kept moving forward, as one does with their feet.

His story's not over, this dead man reborn
Theres hope for him yet, his book hadn't been torn.
He rose most impossibly out from the rest.
Now hes finally ready to again be his best.

(Only you define you. No one else, nothing else can defines you unless you let it. There's always hope. There's always hope).

— The End —