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"vulture" poems
Trust me I am shadow. Trust me I am death. Trust me I’m the vulture in the net. Trust me I'm a master. Trust me I’m a legend. Trust me I am what you call a monster. Trust me I am reason. Trust me I am chaos. Trust me I am not a human. Trust me I have never been a one. Trust me I am not a seeker, for what I am is what I seek. Trust me I’m the voice inside an empty mind, possessed by greed and anger. Trust me I’m unreal, Trust me I’m insane. Trust me I’m a predator, Trust me I am pain. Trust me all my victims are aware. Trust me that my reign is there. Trust me all of them should know, not to trust the guy that river flows . Trust me all of you are so fragile, Trust me I am really bad as vail. Trust me, you don’t wanna know, if you can trust the snake behind this row.
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Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
'Trust Me'
Endless stains of blood On white t-shirts On nights that scatter blue trees over black earth Alight by shooting stars The mother tells her child Unwilling to unlock the truth The truth those stars Don't grant your wishes They grab them With scarred scratching hands. Alight, The damp stitches in the soil Cemetery symmetrical to hospital Those shooting stars circling Like a vulture Speeds towards dead carcasses Still, the murdering star will not cease To break bones That have already broken To take lives That have already been taken To burn What is already charred Today smells like burnt muddied skin feels like gnawing on your own fingers for feast sounds like tired, howling machines spurring and sputtering, never-ending their onwards trek Swallowing distances and with it, nameless faces countless places Today the earthquakes of death Don't make the land shake anymore For it has learned to cope With the desolate cemeteries filled with mute bones Today burns like gasoline Looks like intestines decorating destroyed doorways Today it rains curdled crimson Tell me shooting star If the child liked  jam on his toast Did he snore? Did he like math? Or english? Shooting star doesn't know and neither the bombs. As bodies fall from trees like rotten plums. The world was born in blood And has not ceased to suckle its wounds Endless blood thirst, Endless war But not endless skin to bleed.
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Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 2:41 AM UTC
sign of the times
India is a bird In the map Ready to soar. Bengal and Assam A wing. Gujarat and Rajasthan Another. The pinnacle Jammu Kashmir Gazes. Delhi and Punjab Stirs the body. Kerala Hangs on tail A stylet. LOOK A vulture feeds corses ? A myena that sings ?
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Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 10:58 AM UTC
INDIA
I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is to memorize the periodic table. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of a vulture. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the ***** whale, and the ***** whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I never want to be away from you again, except at work, in the restroom or when one of us is at a movie the other does not want to see. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where we once were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me as I am discovering this. I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. Strange as it may seem, I still hope for the best, even though the best, like an interesting piece of mail, so rarely arrives, and even when it does it can be lost so easily. Life will never end when you are in it.”
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Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
By Lemony Snicket
I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is to memorize the periodic table. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of a vulture. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the ***** whale, and the ***** whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I never want to be away from you again, except at work, in the restroom or when one of us is at a movie the other does not want to see. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where we once were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me as I am discovering this. I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. Strange as it may seem, I still hope for the best, even though the best, like an interesting piece of mail, so rarely arrives, and even when it does it can be lost so easily. Life will never end when you are in it.”
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7
Sunday: Ant Pills Bear Traps Cobra Feet Monday: Dolphin Lungs Eel Soup Frog Limbs Tuesday: Gecko Suits Horse Pie Inchworm *** Wednesday: Jaguar Barbed Koala Beer Lynx Lynch Thursday: Monkey Chips Narwhal Fashions Otter Drugs Friday: Porcupine Rehab Quail Map Roadrunner Piano Saturday: Slug Party Turkey Slop Urchin See Sunday: Vulture Guns Walrus Tongues X No Monday: Yellowjacket Fever Zebra Clowns
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Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:08 PM UTC
Jeff Corwin Teaches Lindsay Lohan the ABCs
Your riding on empty, your riding on fumes Aint it about time you started paying your dues? Hey snowflake move out of daddy's  basement Aint it about  time you started paying your rent It's been years since you've earned a red cent Hey snowflake move  out and live in a tent The cronies you adore are taking you for a ride Aint nobody here that's digging your jive You have no concept between wrong and right News flash: You're just a young parasite You have this idea  you're better than most The sad Truth is you're nothing but toast It's about time you owned up to it You're nothing but a societal misfit Hey snowflake you're on the wrong path Hey snowflake start doing the math Nobody seems to be safe from your wrath Do us all a favor by taking a bath.
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Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
Counter Culture Vulture
The sun shines as I fly; As I fly  high, as I fly low There is a question on my mind 'Where is it that I'm trying to go?' I make some noise, I spread my wings I join my peers in an aimless flight. I ask myself; Where is my purpose? It's not before me. It's not in sight. The eagles hunts the rats The vulture eats what remains The parrot sings with its pretty wings And I sit, in my nest, all grey and plain My friends, my brothers and all the others Never feel that something is amiss We have no role or goal or greater calling Is our purpose just to exist? The humans don't seem to like us Other birds think they're superior We eat worms and spread germs Our other talents are unclear. We sit, We sleep,  We **** We eat An endless mundane routine Sometimes,  I feel there must be more; That our purpose is there, it's just unseen There must be a reason for our creation We can't be such a usless species We're just a nusiance to the world Finding answers won't be easy. My mind is made; I begin my journey. What is my purpose? I must know! Over the trees, the sun sets As I fly high, as I fly low.
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Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 9:22 AM UTC
The Aimless Pigeon
Hibiscus flowers are cups of fire, (Love me, my lover, life will not stay) The bright poinsettia shakes in the wind, A scarlet leaf is blowing away. A lizard lifts his head and listens — Kiss me before the noon goes by, Here in the shade of the ceiba hide me From the great black vulture circling the sky.
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4.7k
In A Cuban Garden
O  my precious- Leaving looms as a huge black vulture before me And I am terrified. I cannot buy him off with tears or with pleading And I cannot hide from his seeking eyes. All the courage I promised myself has fled me And I tremble alone in my fear. What will become of this raging inferno When the winds of distance fan it. Will it flash higher or gutter and die. The colossal dark bird doesn’t answer. He only stands watching As uncaring clock hands Drag me ever closer. The world goes out of focus with my longing. Just one moment more, a minute, an hour- A lifetime would be not enough. O my beloved- I hear his wings flapping, waiting for me And I crumble. Somehow I must find a face With some valor in it that can say goodbye And not drown us both in sorrow. That can watch you go For an ever of evers And not cry out against our very  God. I am so small And your gift is so great How shall I conquer this parting. In this, my hour of panic I would sell all of my past For one half of its time in the future. But the ebony bird isn’t buying. He’s only beckoning me And I must go And I MUST go O my true lover, I must go. ***
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May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 2:31 AM UTC
PARTING (LEAVING)
Kumasi, the Tree City, The Kingdom City with a divine eagle Standing bravely on a mighty stick, The unquestionable love that embraces The soul of the arch enemy, The tradition that swallows The ancient courage and modern pride, Kumasi, the Tree City, The mighty city that lies under The flying wings of the Beautiful Okumanin tree, The golden city of the Western Sudan Planted by the arm of the Almighty, You are truly the dwelling Abode of unity and majesty, Kumasi, the Tree City, The echoes of your ancestral spirits Do not sleep nor slumber You that provides a comfortable Seat for the grandson of The almighty Krobea Asante Kotoko, The modern pride of the great Ancient mother of Yaa Asantewaa, Kumasi, the Tree City, The great son of the vulture, Otomfuo Osei Tutu, may not Appreciate your present State of modernization, For you have surrounded T he Golden Stool with Carelessness and filth, Your crime rate has swept Away the memories of The great Okomfo Anokye, Kumasi, the Tree City, Oh, the inhabitance under the protective And motherly wings of the great tree, The Ayoko kingship deserves a clean land, This great city must regain Her serene and inviting sweet-scented Greeny and stable environment, For mother Ghana has always Pride herself in your glory and dignity, Kumasi, the Tree City, The precious eye of Asanteman, Never deny your former glory, Oh, the pride of West Africa You still have what it takes To be the Garden City of West Africa, You are Oseikrom indeed, Okumaninase, the capital city of Kwaman, The heart of the Republic of Ghana. © PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI Email: [email protected]
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Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:25 AM UTC
KUMASI, THE TREE CITY
Kumasi, the Tree City, The Kingdom City with a divine eagle Standing bravely on a mighty stick, The unquestionable love that embraces The soul of the arch enemy, The tradition that swallows The ancient courage and modern pride, Kumasi, the Tree City, The mighty city that lies under The flying wings of the Beautiful Okumanin tree, The golden city of the Western Sudan Planted by the arm of the Almighty, You are truly the dwelling Abode of unity and majesty, Kumasi, the Tree City, The echoes of your ancestral spirits Do not sleep nor slumber You that provides a comfortable Seat for the grandson of The almighty Krobea Asante Kotoko, The modern pride of the great Ancient mother of Yaa Asantewaa, Kumasi, the Tree City, The great son of the vulture, Otomfuo Osei Tutu, may not Appreciate your present State of modernization, For you have surrounded T he Golden Stool with Carelessness and filth, Your crime rate has swept Away the memories of The great Okomfo Anokye, Kumasi, the Tree City, Oh, the inhabitance under the protective And motherly wings of the great tree, The Ayoko kingship deserves a clean land, This great city must regain Her serene and inviting sweet-scented Greeny and stable environment, For mother Ghana has always Pride herself in your glory and dignity, Kumasi, the Tree City, The precious eye of Asanteman, Never deny your former glory, Oh, the pride of West Africa You still have what it takes To be the Garden City of West Africa, You are Oseikrom indeed, Okumaninase, the capital city of Kwaman, The heart of the Republic of Ghana. © PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI Email: [email protected]
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54
The door it opened slowly, my father he came in, I was nine years old. And he stood so tall above me, his blue eyes they were shining and his voice was very cold. He said, "I've had a vision and you know I'm strong and holy, I must do what I've been told." So he started up the mountain, I was running, he was walking, and his axe was made of gold. Well, the trees they got much smaller, the lake a lady's mirror, we stopped to drink some wine. Then he threw the bottle over. Broke a minute later and he put his hand on mine. Thought I saw an eagle but it might have been a vulture, I never could decide. Then my father built an altar, he looked once behind his shoulder, he knew I would not hide. You who build these altars now to sacrifice these children, you must not do it anymore. A scheme is not a vision and you never have been tempted by a demon or a god. You who stand above them now, your hatchets blunt and ****** you were not there before, when I lay upon a mountain and my father's hand was trembling with the beauty of the word. And if you call me brother now, forgive me if I inquire, "Just according to whose plan?" When it all comes down to dust I will **** you if I must, I will help you if I can. When it all comes down to dust I will help you if I must, I will **** you if I can. And mercy on our uniform, man of peace or man of war, the peacock spreads his fan.
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4.4k
Story Of Isaac
have you left yet? are you gone? i miss you. i love you, koala. you're free. wrap your knuckles around the steering wheel & don't look back. think of me as you drive into a west texas sunset. shout my name as the thin mountain air puts pressure on your lungs. stop at traffic lights & expect to be enlightened. look at the clouds every day. i mean really look. stop & cry by yourself on the side of the road somewhere. stare into the fantastic sun & don't blink first. return light to the world like a universal mirror. take a bath in a hot mountain spring & learn to breathe underwater. fly in vulture circles over the deadness of your past. never stop writing & painting & singing & reading. turn around & surrender your heart to the void. take the list you wrote of the things you learned here & burn it for fuel. cut up that credit card & use a sharp piece as a guitar pick. laugh at your warped reflection in a rippling pond's surface. let light dance around you in a lush green valley. look at life through a thrift store camera lens. abandon the road before the road abandons you. go chase a rabbit up a mountain in tennessee. go nowhere & i'll meet you there someday. go find your friends on couches & balconies. talk to strangers every chance you get. pull them back from the ledges they're on. hug a quarter million people. by the time you hit kansas i hope you love it. by the time you hit asheville i hope you love yourself.
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Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
one for a koala
Like a greedy vulture, I pecked at my skin What is there to accept? Is it the discoloured patches where plump red blush had settled before? Rosy and full of life, I will mourn for my past self. Is it the falling strings of hair giving up on embracing my tired neck? A backbone that has defied its own purpose. In a world of exchange and sharing Nature has found a place in me My soul reconciles with the desire to bloom But my body is dwelling in its ashy winter days Between the night and day Find me halfway deciding where to go, It will either be aspiring to be the sun or waiting for the end to die with the moon.
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Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 10:30 AM UTC
A Poem About Trying
i tried to drink my feelings away until i nearly drowned but their grief, patient as a vulture, kept waiting for me even at the gates of the afterlife.
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Sep 22, 2025
Sep 22, 2025 at 2:25 PM UTC
at the gates.
Try as I might Only see things In black and white Really black spreading carrion bird Vulture wings to pick clean to bone No friend just a fake toothache smile Who wants something Too bad too late all used up Throw away mate Past best before date Rotten meat parasite infested Inevitable buried garbage pit fate Dig it just big enough for A dead little Elliot me Be my Big Sur Billie And ******* bury me
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Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
Bury Me
I am wrapped in her algid arms. I am lost in her evocative glare. I stand, environed by the Keres, Those dilapidated demons. Azrael, my craven shadow, clings To me as a vulture stalks its prey. Thanatos does each step possess Forward into this acidulous air. Fissured masks release languid screams That fall upon pallid faces that have Long since wilted in her Stygian womb. Enervated laughs drone in mangy ears. I stand on the periphery of this Asphyxiating cistern. I ambulate Across this sable field that shall Become the executioner’s blade.
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Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 7:47 PM UTC
Nyx
I am my father's daughter the apple of his eye that didn't fall too far from his tree the fruit of the same loom that I use to weave my web of lies always shady like I'm perpetually standing under those branches I am my mother's daughter her second cracked egg that should have grown into a dove but came out a vulture instead didn't need a nudge to leave the nest I was first to fly the coop a free bird while the others flew straight into a cage Now the tree went up in flames and took the nest with it and I'm starting to think that maybe I was a Phoenix all along and from the ashes comes the new soil that I need to grow. s.mndi
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Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
Rebirth
Offered at such a vulnerable age Tobacco perches as a vulture at the register Killing hundreds of thousand a year Shouldn't this be something we fear? We are told that cannabis kills Can I see some proof? Such a misled nation We must come together, or continue as slaves
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Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 6:27 PM UTC
Tobacco
going to the horror films at ten years old i wanted to be bitten by the vampire ladies you know the ones red brides from the netherworlds with heaving ******* divinities of evil with that dah look in silky white gowns a little messy from sleeping in the dirt culture vulture goth girls with upside down crosses slags all gauzy bats in the belfry deranged but after all they where dead and dreadfully appealing and I'm pretty fussy so what the hell they walked like floats in marshy air never touching the ground above frozen dark crypt terrains with twinkly bare feet and black high glossed toenails staring out of blood spilled eyes drooling cloudy mouth hollows and a yearning hungry countenance encouraging me to get closer to bite me all over pierce me with needly fangs puncturing little holes in tender me making me leak like bad plumbing until i sloped into the bog below of course, i was panicked all trembly but i had a big one for these evil shadowy ******* too so i thought yes no yes no yes no are you gonna **** me? i asked they drooled ooow okay, i thought is it gonna hurt? they shook there heads yes! and drooled real bad? i inquired further ah ha they lingered glaring drooling i guess, waiting for me to make up my mind oh okay anything for you you dark dreamy girls dilapidated queens of hell with ballet derrières "down and down I go round and round I go in a spin, lovin' the spin I'm in under the old black magic called love" after all at ten years old, i already knew i was a horror ***** and just a little turned on
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Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 11:58 AM UTC
HORROR ***** ...IM JUST A LITTLE TURNED ON
going to the horror films at ten years old i wanted to be bitten by the vampire ladies you know the ones red brides from the netherworlds with heaving ******* divinities of evil with that dah look in silky white gowns a little messy from sleeping in the dirt culture vulture goth girls with upside down crosses slags all gauzy bats in the belfry deranged but after all they where dead and dreadfully appealing and I'm pretty fussy so what the hell they walked like floats in marshy air never touching the ground above frozen dark crypt terrains with twinkly bare feet and black high glossed toenails staring out of blood spilled eyes drooling cloudy mouth hollows and a yearning hungry countenance encouraging me to get closer to bite me all over pierce me with needly fangs puncturing little holes in tender me making me leak like bad plumbing until i sloped into the bog below of course, i was panicked all trembly but i had a big one for these evil shadowy ******* too so i thought yes no yes no yes no are you gonna **** me? i asked they drooled ooow okay, i thought is it gonna hurt? they shook there heads yes! and drooled real bad? i inquired further ah ha they lingered glaring drooling i guess, waiting for me to make up my mind oh okay anything for you you dark dreamy girls dilapidated queens of hell with ballet derrières "down and down I go round and round I go in a spin, lovin' the spin I'm in under the old black magic called love" after all at ten years old, i already knew i was a horror ***** and just a little turned on
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71
Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art! Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes. Why preyest thou thus upon the poet’s heart, Vulture, whose wings are dull realities How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise, Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies, Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing! Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car? And driven the Hamadryad from the wood To seek a shelter in some happier star? Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood, The Elfin from the green grass, and from me The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?
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3.7k
Sonnet—To Science
My edges have no border I seep & blotch the air My thoughts a chaotic disorder Laughing in silent despair Who am I? I’m the colorful mix Of the pills I take at night Grappling at the latest “fix” But I never get the dosage right So broken I shall stay To listen but not to obey I’m the perfect daughter I know I ought to be Smiling sequined next to my father A beautiful sight to see Painted fingertips, quiet lips But I’m slipping from sexist grips I’m the crash of atoms & molecules The patterned DNA that labels our culture Theorems, functions, evolutionary tools Poe knew: Science is a “vulture Whose wings are dull realities” Fact blinds what my mind sees Forgive me I’m singing Of what I am & cannot be & My ears are still ringing With who society has asked me to be
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Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
Forgive me I'm singing
Yeah it's one shot one **** Plottin' against my enemies will soon to be killed Bullets feedin' ya last meal Dope rhymes sedatin' like pharmacy pills Since hataz got no chill heads I'll drill  now you leakin' out like oil spills Or a radiator angelic caters none could create a Flows nasty as mine poppin' a multiplicity of shells I'm one of a kind Thoughts intertwined   ****** into a demons intervention contenders in suspension from the soul lynching Caught in the realms of heaven and hell & you can smell The ashes burning fermentin' time runnin' slower than molasses My murders be classic enemies dramatic causin' static Shoot more than Bird combined with Magic Workin' my Johnson on the tracks tonsils sittin' as a hip hop consul underground magul   **** longer than Repunzels hair follicles Cookin' up sigils into a *** of gold no rainbow snortin' sir nose D'void of Funk rattlin' the earth from the bass in my trunk blazin' skunks Abraxas I'm embracin' one of my goetias when facin' ain't no replacin' Fools givin' chase and to tastes of demonic faces My flows replenish like **** laces Blunts turn into ashes dump it out on the masses Epidemic mase deaden your pace hazardous like toxic waste Adversaries don't wanna face Off like Nicolas to Travolta livin' in an ultra violent culture Cleatin' into ya flesh I be the stalkin' Vulture mulchin' ya 'til ya   A dissembled particle blank photo in the article from curvin' emcees with my surgical lyrical sickle stare into ya eyes as the blood trickles Down ya body you easily brickled rhymes artificial My soul sour as a pickle no tickles Could move me or influence thee my legacy Lay cinematography like A. Hitchcock in the 50s huh Ya soon to be a death reel for thrills Rememeber All I need is one shot one **** forreal!!!!
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Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 4:57 PM UTC
One Shot One ****
Yeah it's one shot one **** Plottin' against my enemies will soon to be killed Bullets feedin' ya last meal Dope rhymes sedatin' like pharmacy pills Since hataz got no chill heads I'll drill  now you leakin' out like oil spills Or a radiator angelic caters none could create a Flows nasty as mine poppin' a multiplicity of shells I'm one of a kind Thoughts intertwined   ****** into a demons intervention contenders in suspension from the soul lynching Caught in the realms of heaven and hell & you can smell The ashes burning fermentin' time runnin' slower than molasses My murders be classic enemies dramatic causin' static Shoot more than Bird combined with Magic Workin' my Johnson on the tracks tonsils sittin' as a hip hop consul underground magul   **** longer than Repunzels hair follicles Cookin' up sigils into a *** of gold no rainbow snortin' sir nose D'void of Funk rattlin' the earth from the bass in my trunk blazin' skunks Abraxas I'm embracin' one of my goetias when facin' ain't no replacin' Fools givin' chase and to tastes of demonic faces My flows replenish like **** laces Blunts turn into ashes dump it out on the masses Epidemic mase deaden your pace hazardous like toxic waste Adversaries don't wanna face Off like Nicolas to Travolta livin' in an ultra violent culture Cleatin' into ya flesh I be the stalkin' Vulture mulchin' ya 'til ya   A dissembled particle blank photo in the article from curvin' emcees with my surgical lyrical sickle stare into ya eyes as the blood trickles Down ya body you easily brickled rhymes artificial My soul sour as a pickle no tickles Could move me or influence thee my legacy Lay cinematography like A. Hitchcock in the 50s huh Ya soon to be a death reel for thrills Rememeber All I need is one shot one **** forreal!!!!
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37
I have a dream! I have a dream, To the racial discriminators, said Martin Luther King, I have a dream! I have a dream! To the evil-creating economists, I warn and ring. Globe witness hunger, inequality poverty and unemployment The world turns out to be bitter, To all of you, I write this letter. To create a world relieved from these and turn better. I am a mad aspiring economist, a fool, Searching for the right tool, You turned the world with full of mess, People are left with nothing less. To the world, you gave theories, Pushed us into a vicious cycle of injuries, About your theories, you boasted, It has created a few ruling and bloated. Most of you worked as economic hitmen, Turned victim laymen to fighting gunmen. To the realities, your theory is distant, Served no solution to the dying peasants, To the few, we remain a psychological slave and servants, Tuned our lives to a depended migrant. With your development lecture, You have killed the entire nature, In the name of ventures, corporates turned vulture, Hunted and looted our generations’ future. We lived a self-reliant community, You killed us with imposed liability, Our lives are now placed in intensive casualty, The word that remains imagination still is equality. We lost our humanity and identity, In your eyes, we are just a market and commodity, Your play with scarcity, was a mere futility, We finally became a society, filled with atrocity. Your useless lectures of development, Put us under frightening & irrecoverable unemployment, For a few, you got us into a deep-rooted enslavement, So, now for you instead, we make a replacement. To my questions, you neglected and ran, In your eyes, I am foolish stupid common man, To you short-sighted range, I say I will bring in a change! Today, I may remain lower and mere viewer, A day will come, where you will stand to answer, Writing a new rule, I would seize your beloved positions, This will be my lifetime mission and ambition. I say with all my limited experience, I will put a test to all your conscience, Are you just a fat-big corporate’s hand? With people will you always stand? I am not an economist, I am neither an egotist, I proclaim! I proclaim! I am a revolutionary economist, I know you will fit me a label, I am sure I will be an economic rebel, A rebellious economist. I dream a world without huge inequalities, I dream a world free from imposed liabilities, I dream a world without poverty and disparities, I finally dream for becoming an economist with no ambiguities.
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Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 7:43 AM UTC
A letter to the ****** economists- I have a dream
I have a dream! I have a dream, To the racial discriminators, said Martin Luther King, I have a dream! I have a dream! To the evil-creating economists, I warn and ring. Globe witness hunger, inequality poverty and unemployment The world turns out to be bitter, To all of you, I write this letter. To create a world relieved from these and turn better. I am a mad aspiring economist, a fool, Searching for the right tool, You turned the world with full of mess, People are left with nothing less. To the world, you gave theories, Pushed us into a vicious cycle of injuries, About your theories, you boasted, It has created a few ruling and bloated. Most of you worked as economic hitmen, Turned victim laymen to fighting gunmen. To the realities, your theory is distant, Served no solution to the dying peasants, To the few, we remain a psychological slave and servants, Tuned our lives to a depended migrant. With your development lecture, You have killed the entire nature, In the name of ventures, corporates turned vulture, Hunted and looted our generations’ future. We lived a self-reliant community, You killed us with imposed liability, Our lives are now placed in intensive casualty, The word that remains imagination still is equality. We lost our humanity and identity, In your eyes, we are just a market and commodity, Your play with scarcity, was a mere futility, We finally became a society, filled with atrocity. Your useless lectures of development, Put us under frightening & irrecoverable unemployment, For a few, you got us into a deep-rooted enslavement, So, now for you instead, we make a replacement. To my questions, you neglected and ran, In your eyes, I am foolish stupid common man, To you short-sighted range, I say I will bring in a change! Today, I may remain lower and mere viewer, A day will come, where you will stand to answer, Writing a new rule, I would seize your beloved positions, This will be my lifetime mission and ambition. I say with all my limited experience, I will put a test to all your conscience, Are you just a fat-big corporate’s hand? With people will you always stand? I am not an economist, I am neither an egotist, I proclaim! I proclaim! I am a revolutionary economist, I know you will fit me a label, I am sure I will be an economic rebel, A rebellious economist. I dream a world without huge inequalities, I dream a world free from imposed liabilities, I dream a world without poverty and disparities, I finally dream for becoming an economist with no ambiguities.
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