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Sid Lollan Aug 2017
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

(Authors of (obligatory)
Redemption: what is true genius if it ain’t dead yet?
Let you, who **** it, not be present for its resurrection.)

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

i had a nightmare:

i opened the door of my ranch-house in the boonies of
southern pa.
out-into the grasses of the old Congo;
There stood the Lion.
20 feet away
i, frozen in the magnitude of his vision;
spirit, dominated by his
completely;
Not even a growl.
i remained
paralyzed—he licked the backs of his paws
and combed a wiry mane...
…a halfa-second was a year if it was a halfa-second now...
but
somewhere in there
i regained my legs and without knowing
pivoted,
grabbed the doorknob. Twist. Open. Step inside.
turn to close the...doorway is gone, the house has vanished
And
HE WAS RIGHT ON TOP OF ME

i was nothing but-a body of plastic fear
molten,
melted and cast into mannequin limbs and head.
i could feel the Lion’s entire, real
spirit crushing spirt
on my hollow caste self.

his breathe stunk of blood that
forced my replicaego into infant curl…
…Finally, the beast roared a canyon
i shivered!
a shiver that shook inside my head
thru the spine to shake
my bones inside the bed.

Thru the constricting red curtain of bloodclot eye
spy the tiny eclipse
of the Black Crow inna massive sheet of african sun;
i must be dead already.
The Lion feels the Crow perched onna cape fig nearby
and his muscles tighten accordingly, his beastly hunger
displaced by boiled-blood anger.

Eye-to-Eye
with the beast
where Fear has reached saturation-point;
it is Nothing if it is Everything…
…the Crow lets out a hiss
like spikes of radio-static, interrupted by series
of whooping-caws…
…stomach vibrated by the Lion’s low,
almost internal growl. For the
first time, his tranquilizing orbs
divert from mine
to capture the Black Crow perched on the dying cape fig.
uncertainty taps my shoulder…then…i feel my body;
the weight releases
and as i motion to rise from the grass and dirt, the Congo dissolves and i’m
sitting up on my mattress with broken springs in the humid
summer slumber of southern pa.

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

-What security?
programmed,
under deep-cover;
jungian re-uploads. Them. Resurrected witha blackmarket
medicine a Witch Doctor devolution;
Replicate, regenerate, forever
<01100101 01100001 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01110100 01100001 01101001 01101100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100111 01110010 01101111 01110111 00100000 01100001 00100000 01101000 01100101 01100001 01100100>
Bottom feeding grave robbers and tomb vandals are all they are!-

-Better check what ya put down here…liable to shape a ghoul,
and you know this haunt is made-up of enough spooks-

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Professors of chaos preach:
O wanderers!
write me the manifesto
walking atop a line of hot coals
-I smell me some burning soles-

(They intend to:
Pour, pure from cold-clear spring-spout
      into muddy-brown-clay, dissolved,
rushing against dried-up bones of gully-walls…
…the Crow just sits above
         and laughs there

Don’t ya see it?)

History
is not about the past,
but
about what the present
can mold the past
into
for the future.
-the marble’s trajectory sure to
flip onnit’s axis d’pending on which record you dig-

(One mistake
can a coward make
or
one accident happen
up-on that a martyr stake’d.
etched in the rut of each separate fate;)


The lion
must roar for his P R I D E
        (or?)
lion wears his hide
as a mascot
Black Crow eats crow egg blues
        black crow spotted me yellow in the bushes
pants down, gun-in-hand
-send your prayers-

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2015
.english black humour is peppered with sarcasm,
english humour is sarcasm...
watching the gaelic version
is like watchings the irish try to be subtle by being rude,
doesn’t work... normas proved it defeating the saxons...
and subsequently the celtic brides roared in encore!
it really doesn’t work... the polish fraction of me still intact
to remind me of the biology that still works served
the reminder: polish history is still orientated
on the european continent, eastern europe
is not a segregated "continent" that might contend
with england and france being ante-antarctica...
never engage a celt with british humour for guy fawkes or anyone
else in the missing ditto;
celtish or cultish... i never quiet know...
enter the celtish brides... encouraging the advent of copulation
and the excesses of tax to build linear ceramic imprints
of broken bricks, that made it into ratio of
the chiseled brick worth a heavyweight contention with
heated mortar dough; oh right, pooh bear you're offended...
deal with it! unless your uncle is denoted as
adolf ****** and you want him resurrected!
shakespeare never wrote the play: the merchant of mecca,
did he? poor shylock... i was almost caught in admiration
of what english students at 16 thought of that national pride...
known as the *****-bride to **** for an A at a-level.


they still sound out of breath,
out of anything,
esp. words...
they all sound to totem no animal
rather than an ****
which in ceramic wilderness
sounds like wild ****...
where’s the monochromatic monotone
of the drunken sailor going by the name
of st. peter?
fisherman turned sailor... that’s a first...
why didn’t jesus pick barabbas rather than judas?
was it cain that got in the way?
i bet it was. well nox awaits both thief and murderer...
those engaged with rabbanic arts
tend to treat dreams less seriously...
and those that don’t tend to treat dreams more seriously...
those that treat dreams seriously endear the sole
escapism of reality quite seriously...
and for those that don’t... well... there’s the zodiac algebra
and that’s right for a mummified expression
that was bandaged into a circumcised *******.

p.s.
rhyming poetry has spawned the most pointless
ibhibitions of rhythm poetics,
all the current poets sound
    verärgert... exasperated...
    is everyone seriously a ******* goldfish
catching their breath a second time?!
you want to know the most fun thing
i've ever did, today?
i started to tickle my maine ****'s
inner ear with a chicken's egg...
he raised his paw,
he tried to scratch himself...
"something" there was a schizophrenic
violing playing in his cranium,
rather: the temple of his ear...
i was lucky in having to: kitzteln (titillate)
him with an egg...
a chicken abortion i'd probably
consume come tomorrow's breakfast
hour...

             he felt it, the giggles...
the giggles from annoyance being rubbed
the "wrong way"...
so much to say about a woman
whom i attempted to pick a nose
in earning affection of seeing:
the "green fairy" take a ****,
take to farting, breaking the magic of
the feminine persona of "unfathomable" /
unfailable...

            genius: an egg inserted
into a cat's ear to tickle... eating an abortion
the next morn...
                                    all the woes
of the world seem so insignificant when
you buy into feline idiosyncracies...
after all... there's no leash...
no kaganiec...
             there is no stipend associated
with the timing of walkies...
cats are perfectly disorientated by
their own selves: or rather,
their senses...

              you learn atheism from people,
but?! you learn solipsism from cats!
you learn atheism to sound
intellectually superior, sound,
"sensible"...
solispsism you learn from cats...
god or no god...
you are first, you are the last,
while god? "someone" in the middle...
can god be associated to pronouns?
or is god a pure noun: excavation
machina pro grata?
well... if god was ever a person,
being, anti-tool...
wouldn't "he" be a persona non grata?!
well then!
  machina pro grata:
                the noun spin "mr."...

man was never in search of god:
the objective reality remained true as
it always remained...
man was forver bound to the search
of god: via the subjective
personification of said "object"...

      how do you think the muslims
deal with this conundrum?!
they think they are gratifying everyone
else with an objective reality
of god, while they themselves,
with the polytheistic splinter of the gods,
are themselves searching for
the subjective reality of their god...
a person, a personality...
to the muslims their god speaks
the same objective truth as the sort
of truth a pagan might adhere to...
they want to know: a person to speak to,
rather than an object they can throw...

modern poetry when performed is ****,
it all sounds the same...
that overtone of exasperation...
me? i'm not speaking...
itchy finger-tips: idle hands:
the devil's due...
      i'm not speaking among these
youths... it's like that h'american beauty
quote...

ricky fitts: but it helps me remember...
i need to remember...
sometimes there's so much beauty in the world,
i feel like i can't take it,
     and my heart is just going to cave in.

lester burnham - whatever he said
about the balloon not being filled with helium...
but with all the bureucratic custody
via custard like some zeno paradox
of a tortoise outrunning achilles...
               the beauty can remain...
to enchant the easily impressionable...
after all: you "only live once"!
the beauty will always remain...
hence the seasons...
               but there's only one
impressionable aspect of this reality...
the thought you leave with...
the thought, implying:
the lost aspect of a moral (th)ought
to be envisioned in it not being
sentenced to a maxim
    or a proverb...
                       or a lesson...
after all... once man grows old:
he's no longer fond of learning,
but overtly eager to teach...
         i'm neither... 33...
who am i to learn from or teach for?
teaching by mistakes?
       no one really teaches by example...
unless on a pure technical canvas
associated with a trade or a tool...
which life is neither!

what is the west selling as their... "capitalism"...
their next ponzi scheme of "made in... chi'nah?!"
this, this is capitalism?!
i remember days when gap shirt
lifted the words: made in canada....
quality... would last you 20 years...
the wool wouldn't thin, the colours
wouldn't fade...
                    capitalism my ***, these days!
i came to the promised land,
i remained: with broken bones
            and ****** make-up tutorials....

for all the belief in man,
and this, non-existent fear of god,
savvy,
      upon the sacred altar of
the debauchery of prometheus,
upon the sacrifices of a.i. atlas...
upon: will electricirty ever replace fire...
who stole the rod of zeus
beside promothian thief who came
back with the eternal fire of Odin?
who?!
my kindred: alas!
                     and to what end?!
to the end without any surprise...
for the cosmopolitan cul de sac:
screaming at a brick wall pretending
to talk to one one but brick!
    
  i too visited: Krzyżtopór, in the village of Ujazd,
   Iwaniska commune, Opatów County...
how... the categories congregated
with implosions to make a ground:
specific...
  what would be the categorical imperative
for the congregative consumate
orientation of said narrative?

     even my grandfather remembers
the famous debackle concerning
Alfried Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach...
i do come from a family
of metallurgy... or coal-mining...
  both as true as these coal-riddle hands
supposing ink in pixel...
  
come on... the Schwerer Gustav?
the gun of all guns?! the one with the sort
of recoil that demanded train lines
to incubate the impact?!

modern, spoken, poetry, bores, me...
it's simply exasperated...
  exasperated by rhyme,
exasperated with rhyme,
exasperated outside of rhyme...
i'm listening to clones...
i don't won't to write modern poetry,
simply because:
i will not recoil with a take
on modern poetry...
  i don't do exasperated...
as much as i adore olivia gatwood's:
manic pixie dream girl...
yes, a ref. to the garden state movie...
the shins: new slang...
yeah... i did that **** in edinburgh...
climbing the scaffold...
erected around new college...
dancing on the roof with myself at night...
watching the *****-bank fluoride
white above the firth of forth one night...

but that's what i find really evil...
you know how in the movies,
the actors and actresses brush their teeth...
but never rinse?!
instead? keep that toothpaste in their mouths?!
******* never rinse!
that's evil... i'll tell you:
brush witha  pea-sized dollop, then rinse...
all the movies you see will never show you
a person rinse their teeth after brushing...
you should look into rinsing...
and? you'll never lose weight by going
to the gym...
you'll get stretch-marks, for sure...
there are only two ways to lose weight:
bicycle or swim...
swim or bicycle... better... both!

going to the gym will not help you...
you'll need plastic surgery!
but hollywood movies are evil this way...
they portray people washing their teeth
without spitting out the excess toothpaste
and not rinsing their mouths...
with water...

            who does that?!
hollywood is the next dentistry monopoly?!
pea sized amount of paste,
at the end of the day will do,
and then please spit,
then rinse with water...
don't just do what hollywood bad teeth
brigade do...
keep that paste in your mouth
like car battery acid / fluoride!

   pea sized brush once a day,
spit, rinse... slide your tongue over
your teeth to feel the sheen of
           ivory mingling with glass.

i hate modern poetry, why is everyone pretending
to be asthamtic, exasperated, out-of-breath?
with the same punctuation "all of a sudden"?
**** if i'm going to speak,
i'm not speaking...
             not in this climate...
edinburgh 2006...
  that's when i wanted to speak...
but then my eyes stole my tongue and told me
to listen.
i've been listening every since...
and...
i haven't even registered one hearing
of an echo since then.
I write this little narrative
and shall endevour to be brief,
for events that I unburden
may never gain of true belief.
I put to you dear reader
that tomorrow I shall die
for the events that so destroyed me
but with this wording I will try.

As a child I was so happy
and being of good disposition.
I had a fondness for all creatures,
so to care for was my mission.
With my pets as my companions
that such a pleasure is the truth.
I cared, fed and caressed them,
this was the model of my youth.

Into manhood I was pleasant.
A woman sent from God above.
Such a bride that shared my passion
of such animals I love.
Love flourished inside our home life
Our demeanour was one of that,
so we puchased gold fish and a rabbit,
a small monkey and black cat.

'Pluto' purred a lovely song,
readilly did steel my heart.
He was large, soft and so loving
and from my side was hard to part.
This large black cat worried my wife
as superstitions do so cast.
Though it slackened seriousness
as ancient ideals do not last.

Seven years we were intent
until my character did start to change.
Temperament was quick to follow,
my personality grew strange.
The demon drink was now a worry
when my wife would feel my knuckle.
For one moment I was raged
and the other I would chuckle.

One night upon my return
witha drunken mans' complexion.
Pluto wanting nothing from me
felt irate of rough connection.
Reluctantly he beared down his claw
as from my grasp he tried to fly
and as my blood did slowly trickle
I removed my knife and then his eye.

As the daylight light gave its shine
from the excesses of last eve's gin.
I from remorse supped in excess
Trying to drown this evil sin.
I was weak and so un-trying
lashing out at one and all.
No longer in control of
it seemed my destiny to fall.

Pluto recovered this ordeal,
though eye-less socket was my gift.
I could not be so surprised,
as on my approach he would fly swift.
No longer was he my ally.
No longer was he my friend.
No longer did I drink the *****
but this avoidance would soon end.

He still attended this abode
Wandering with one eyed navigation
Although I felt the pangs of grief
Grief soon changed to irritation.
One morning I did slip a noose
Around poor Pluto's scraggy throat
I hung him from a tree outside
drinking a bottle whilst I gloat.

Against the laws of God I ******
In satisfaction I do wallow
Excuse is this intrusive substance
My own forgiveness do I swallow.
Evil, horror and unkind
Depravity is what I think
These thoughts float freely around my mind
All conjured up from Demon drink.

That night such cruel deed had been done
for something happened so unfair.
As I awoke, my home in flames.
My wealth all gone I felt despair.
On visiting the smouldering ashes
that once I could call my address.
I found almost complete destruction
as i surveyed this total mess.

I came upon just one exception.
The wall where once had stood my bed
A crowd had gathered for some reason,
suprise to me it must be said.
Curiosity drew me closer
To see what they gazed at
and as if graven in bas relief
the figure of a gigantic cat.

Such accuracy it must be said
Stood proudly within the wreck
Above where my head used to rest
A rope about the creature's neck.
When I beheld this apparition,
for scarcely could I regard it less.
feeling terror to the extreme,
drew upon me such untold stress.

I came to think about that night
When fires rage was at its most
That someone must of free'd the feline
Cut it down from hanging post.
Perhaps then thrown through open window
With view to raising me from sleep
Compressed my **** fresh in new plaster
a burnt portrait for me to keep.

Such great impression on my mind.
Phantasms thought could not forget.
feeling such insincere remorse
I chose to search for similar pet.
Whilst I frequented vile haunts
with painstaking examination,
decided cat should be of similar look.
I did not want emancipation.

In a den of vile infamy
Half stupified I sat
When something claimed of my attention
In the form of a black cat.
Hazily I reeled in shock
Was this Pluto in my sight
Until after greater examining
I noticed a splodge of white.

I thought for just one moment
My mind was setting me a test
For Pluto was as black as soot
But this **** wore a white breast.
He came to me immediately
Upon me he did laize
I purchased him right there and then
I smothered him with love and praise.

My wife did so adore this cat.
But for myself after some time
Much love did turn again to loathing
and its presence cringed my spine.
The reason came the next day on
as Inhebriated I was no more
I saw that he had just one eye.
So shocked was I, I think I swore.

My wife was in a happy state
Thinking that my life had changed
Back to my old and wanted ways
Before my life became deranged.
The white mark upon the felines breast
over time appeared to define
Into a picture so distintive.
A Gallows was this eerie sign.

My sanity was in unsolid state
This creature soon to be bereft
Supporting a badge of owners crime
over its Agony and Death.
This brute of similar attribute
To he I had once destroyed,
tormented and most worried me.
My vengeance would not be denied.

My temperence was as a beast
With furious tempers flare
I almost abandoned all this strife
without so much as single care.
One day on household errand
on my brow this cat shone tax.
Whilst in the cellar with the *****
I tried to **** it with an axe.

Guarded by my faithfull wife,
I still remember what she said
Leave this poor dumb creature be.
I left the axe inside her head.
Such ****** was not deliberate
I could not resolve that this be real
but after contemplative time
I knew this crime I must conceal.

I pondered long what course to take
I could not move her by day or night,
must be accomplished down below
to keep this body far from sight.
Encasing her behind the wall
as monks once did in bygone age.
Surrounded now with morter and brick
it was the most solid of cage.

Before the last brick was replaced
I searched the house for Pluto's clone.
No sign was found of one eyed tom,
my persecutor had gone to roam.
I looked with pride at job well done.
Such rendering was no disgrace,
nothing toward had happened here
with everything nicely in its place.

I searched again to find the beast
he that to me did not impress.
Although I'd killed I slept so tranquil.
My mood did qualm and I felt fresh.
Second and third days came and went
But feline never made a show
He must of truly read my mind
Decided safer he should go.

The fourth day after assassination,
Police came around this place to delve.
After a most intense exploration,
suspiscion they decide to shelve.
In my triumph I did take on pride,
I pointed out this house so stout
and taking up my wooden cane
I gave the wall a hearty clout.

May the lord deliver me
from the fangs of acrid friend.
For squeeling came from beyond that wall
leaving my secret at an end.
In my haste to hide my sin,
I hid the corpse and cleared the room
It seems the brute had never gone
Instead it hid inside the tomb.

Here I stand in readiness
these gallows wanting company
and with this rope around my neck
it seems my wife I will soon see.
If only ego had refrained
and with that cane I'd caused no fuss,
perhaps they may never of heard
the reply from that old black ****
A poetic translation of a short story of the same name by Edgar Allan Poe
Black Cat is a rhyming poem and one of a few poetic translations that I have enjoyed writing. Please enjoy.
Posted Aug 24th 2014 © Copyright Christopher K Bayliss 2014.
Jonas Sep 2018
Mymum's gota posterdeer nailed to her livingroomwall. She wentout oneday witha saw and cutdown somebranches ofa birch. She put'hem around herstag.
Mallory Mar 2010
I clutched tight to the string of A red ballonIt clung to my hair, making it stick straight upA red ballonI drew a picture onA red ballonThen let the air out ofA red ballonI watched the drawing shrink on A red ballonAnd listened to the air coming out ofA red ballonI bounced and kept in the airA red ballonI went outside withA red ballonThe wind got faster, and blew awayA red ballonIt flew into the skyA red ballonUntil there was nothing left of A red ballonPlease tell me if you findA red ballon 
This one's also 3 years old.
Every time I said "red" I wrote it with red colored pencil, but I couldn't do that, so italicizies(??) had to suffice.
Everybody wanna hate me
And be me
In the same sentence
Im grimy no need for repentance
They say im too controversial
**** the media
I stay underground f the commercial
Ya born with nothing
Ya die with nothing
So why would I
Try hug the flames in the sky
Searchin' for light
Putting up a fight in the blight
Light my blunts to open my cells
Destined for jail earth is hell
Cant get a break from a job
So 9 to 5 switch to robs
At night i conjure my darkest identity
Me myself I triple darkness regardless
How many form come
I got many algorithm one by one
Step by step page by page
Im in a rage
on the verge of slayin'
Witha 12 guage
MUASSEnBERG **** what ya heard?
ignore the singining birds
They get hot shots for coming to my spots
And **** cops
They deserve to get drop
Slayin' the innocent people
How is thr land of free
But believe youll wake up soon
In this 21 century
Ill be. Exposin' there secrecy
So go ahead and hate me
***** but??????


Histories a lie
I seen imagines
Of Caesar
pretendin- to be Son of Man
Understand
They deify humans
Nothin' but carnal minded
Individual
This world  is precisely
Satirical
Im caught in the diabolical imperial
How i survive is a miracle
Gave up childhood became a miracle
Spinnin' cob webs
Over my enemies and my ashes be
Tokes from **** smoke
Guns is tote
Just incase of an altercation
And you'll be at deaths administration
Beat the case with no hesitation
Im bringing chaos to every nation
Hope them ******* hear me
Clear me out
By the time they find me
Ill be out
Like Snowden spreaadin' luv
With Russia
Dont come to me cuz ill crush ya
Know the 48 laws to power
as i devour your flesh
With gun powder
Try to escape the reign
Only to entice more pain
To ya brain
Since the game done changed
Fools still aint rearranged
The pieces to the puzzle
I found i was stolen
From centuries ago and where do i go
From here i hear the heavens tryna
Give me a sign
Light coverin' the dark spark
For the spliff
Im the edge of th3 cliff
Soon to crossover throwover
Government entity
But nobody will see what i see
I got envisions of my
Enemies in casket im drastic
Graphic
With the designs i illustrate
And if you hate ?
That means you ******* cant relate
But you...
Toxic yeti Dec 2018
The yeti hear a distant laugh
He recognized the laugh
The laugh of his flower
He went out to
A Poppy field
where they usually
Couple
Only
To find his flower
Making love
Coupling witha young monk
The young man had no sadistic intentions in his face
They were in love
Sadden the yeti waited in his cave
For his flower.
When the young woman
Came back
The yeti gently asked her
What it meant
And she said she was trying
To make a family for her savage lover
She was asked if she had feelings for the young man
She kissed the yeti
And told him
That he was the only on in her heart.
There they embrace
And couple
The yeti
Thinking that he would have a
Child.  
His flower talking about the young monks name
Geshi Thubten
And his plans for talking his flower
To the city of Kuqa. (Kutcha)
And that she would not go with the youngster.
Jessica Giles Feb 2010
Jars of all shapes and sizes
Filled with nuts and bolts
And other forgotten things.
******* by their tops into the ceiling
In my fathers work room withA half dirt floor.  
We used the jars’ contents
To put together mouse traps
That never caught any mice.
With ***** drivers and wrenches
And tools I never knew the name of
That adorned the floor and walls.
2007
I kissed the scars on her skin,
"I still think you're beautiful.
I don't ever wanna loose my bestfriend."
She looked at him with a cold expression..
Her gray eyes formed soft clouds of blue..

He spoke softly,
"I know what it's like,
To want to die..
How you try to fit in,
But just can't..

How you hurt yourself on the outside,
To try and **** the thing on the inside.."
His voice broke as he continued.
"You self destrutive little girl,
Pick yourself up.

Don't blame the world.
So you're messed up?
You'll be okay.
In the end it's a dream,
And it will all fade away.."

She drew in a deep breath,
The gray clouds formed in her eyes,
With a promise of hate..
She closed her eyes,
And choked on her words..

"You don't know what it's like,
To wake up in the middle of the night,
Terrified..
At the thought of kissing razors.."

She trailed off,
Lost in thoughts..
After five minuites of silence, she spoke..
"You don't know what i'm feeling inside.
It's amazing what a smile can hide.."

He eased back,
As if to examine her.
"Look at your cuts. Your burns.
Those bruises you gave yourself.
Each one is a battle with yourself,
That you lost.."

She replied witha simple line.
One he's remembered now for quite sometime..
"If you could read my mind,
You'd be in tears."

She smiled that twisted fake smile,
And walked out of his life..
+murfyness
Sit back and relax as i hit you with a bumper Jack
ya rhymes is wack make like a match and strike
as ya set ya self on Fire
ya just need to retire take notes from the Sire
Master of this Craft ill stay in ya *** like Shaft
Serious glare and no Smiles ya Styles
nothin' but a pity beat you til you silly
Grimace lookin' muthaphukka talkin' loud and hard
like you this and that
but we know you sweet as a kitkat
i despise chitchat and emcees that think that
they got the Hype
and your right your hype and unsigned
for a reason but im leavin' emcees not breathin'
steppin' into the battle field watch me demise in less
than 1 second to go with is like eternity
no chance to escape hell in a cell
im the Undertaker
bury you alive with no remorse check my source
i been credited before i was credited
ya style edited
must be walkin' with water under ya feet
cuz ya slippin' set trippin' got a mack if ya start lippin'
slam ya harder than Kemp combined with Pippen
only shots ya takin' is jump shots
ya lil ***** boy who emulated the hood
wanna be heard so bad ??? but no good
shamin' this beat with ya Elementary Lingo
come up with to me is like a Mastiff to a Poodle
Droolin' i come with the Roughest
prepare for the Slayin'
Shut ya Trap so What cha Sayin????


Check the poetry im full of prodigy
Fantasy witha touch of reality
Who can write it better than me
By the time they catch me
Ill be in another dimension
Youll be in detention Once the skools on session
Pack wisdom like bullets in
A Smith n Wesson wait for ejection
Of rounds knocking out clowns
Before the bell of the first round
Round and round
Ya head goes cuz you couldn't comprehend my death blows
Slow ya role like going backwards
My poetry and skills are mastered
No witches or board crafts
Are made here everything i made came from front to rear
Nope i dont have no fear i know the spirits is here
Good vs Evil you choose with sides
You wanna reside
Is it sell my soul and let my heart grow cold
Or stand with fire n let my soul glow
Against the evils that be
In the sneaky industry
Dusty raps get slapped back
My guns be aim at?
These devils trying to sell me out
So **** all that poise and noise
Cuz i aint down with slayin'
Peace to the rebels like me
So what u sayin???
An
Hannah Chin Oct 2018
deephate
lossand anguish
it all mixesinto onelargemess
somewords dont eventouch thisfeeling
myeyes areallout of tears and hanghalfclosed
or is it halfopen to you whofeel
myheart—does itevenbeat
hard totell
youcant know
whati befeeling
howcan you foolsunderstand
youwant tohelp then LEAVEMEALONE
theresnothing youcando
tosave mefromthis
pit
of
des-
pair
ilike theblack
ofthis smallroom
iusedto likepink
iwanted
tobe
apretty princess
andlive inacastle witha
kingso kind
butdreams dont
cometrue
learnthisnow
youfools
dreams
are
like
pa-
per
burni­ngin
theFLAMES
OFHELL
just
like
me
.
.
.
.
do
not
give up
myChild
I still loveyou
myChild
youvegone farther
than
rockbottom
butlisten
to
Me
listen
listenlisten
toMe
.
.
.
.
I
THOUGHT
I GOTRIDOF
YOU
HOWDARE YOU
COMEINTO
THIS
SOULOFMINE
LEAVEHER
ALONE
you are
so
alone
myfriend
cantyousee
noonecares about
you
theylie
when theysay
dothose fools
listentomee
tome
listen
to
me
.
.
.
.
thischaos
inside
ican­notcontrol
itatall
iwantto
SCREAMAND
SHOUTbut
icant
i wantto
crybut icant
letgo
of
me
setme
FREE
p
l
e
a
s
e
.
.
.
.
up
uplook
upMy
C­hild
iamnot faraway
letyourheart
beat
beat
beat
again
takemy hand
myChild
iwill
neverleave
younor forsake
you myChild
istill
love
you
.
.
.
.
is
that
alight
itsbeenso
dark for solong
imnot evensure what
lightlooks like
do i dareto hope
dare tolook
up
up
up
.
.
.
.
YOU
FOOL
thereis nolight
light doesnot exist
ithought youwould have
LEARNEDTHIS BY NOW
theonly waytogo is
down
down
down
.
.
.
.
here
iam
myChild
here i am
take my
hand
please dontlook
down
dontlook
down
i
still
loveyou
myChild
ido
i
do
.
.
­.
.
i
cant
lookdown
doi darelook up
amieven worthit
thelight
is
faint
butican
see
it
clear
as day
.
.
.
.
NO
YOUFOOL
you arenot worthy
you cannot hope
donteven try
hope
is
frail
youcant
trust
hope
.
.
.
.
i
surprise
myself
is­till
look up
ithink maybe
there is a littlehope
maybethere
is a little
hope
.
.
.
.
yes
myChild
there is hope
still look up and see
the light gets
bigger
warmer
see me here
I still love
you
myChild
I still love you
.
.
.
.
NO YOU FOOL
no you fool
no
you
fool
.
.
.
.
the
light
is warm
the light is
bright
i
like
the light
i like
the
light
.
.
.
.
no
dont leaveme
here alone
listen to me
one last
time
.
.
.
.
LEAVE
MYCHILD ALONE
myChild
you are
safe
here in
the
light
you are safe
here in the light
i still love you.
I originally wanted to write something about suicide but this came out in the end. This is about a battle that most people can't see. But it is a battle that goes on within all of us.
johnny solstice Jun 2019
( this work is livicated to the six children who will die
in the so-called "third-world in the time it takes to read it)

Drip, drip, drip says the stand-pipe
in the shanty town
as the young mothers gather round
plastic containers on the ground
listening to the drip, drip, drip
of life ebbing away

the riverbeds have all dried up
the wells are mineshafts to the past
the irrigation channels of their *******
are polluted now by the Cuckoo's Nest

the powdered-milk...the dust-bowl fields
the quotas met......the land reveals
the hand that rocks this cradle
is the one who lays the table
with "third-world" debt their able
to rob and **** and disable

as the dehydrated bodies blow away like ashes
the multi-national faschists........
        with vampire banks decashes
the breast-milk of the masses
witha ****** drip, drip, drip

from the ******* of the mothers
the corporations smother....
      the babies in their sleep
the cuckoo comes as a thief
with a free sample and a brief
case full of deceipt............

may I make a suggestion?
"ASK SOME QUESTIONS"

As you eat your chocolate
and drink your coffee
and smear ice-cream on your lovers body
and NESTLE down to the land of noddy
to dream of countless trucks and lorries
ferrying the cow-juice and the slurry
burning the forests in such a hurry

more cattle and cash and burn and $lash
leaves a gaping ****
in the dried-up flesh of Mother Earth
and 4000 babies every year
yes 4000 babies every year
return to the DUST....
BOWL..............BREAKFAST BOWL
CEREAL BOWL..........SERIAL KRIME
CORN and MILK spells CORPORATE CRIME
dished up for your childrens belly
in front of telly-tubby tellies





Chocolate bars and candy treats
robbed from the swollen teats
of mutated udders
whilst the cow's baby brothers
are herded into crates
and served on rich mens plates
the mothers stand and wait
and listen to the rate
        of the DRIP
                 DRIP
                  DRIP
of spilt milk down the drain
the governments explain
and bury their shame
under mountains of grain
and excess champagne

and if you BEG
you get Easter eggs instead
served up by the "head"
whose saviour bled
with a steady DRIP
                  DRIP
                  DRIP

and I scream and jelly
and biscuits and cakes
make bovine mistakes
and cheesy diseases
from the milk that turns sour
reminds us every hour
of this KATTLE KULTURE HERESY
of babies dying constantly
with a DRIP
         DRIP
         DRIP
This was written in the 1990s against Nestle and their practice of giving free formula to new mothers in areas of the world where access to clean water were rare leading to many infant deaths
Mitchell May 2011
She
Took that midnight train fast outta this thick glass
Cause' there ain't nothing here but the past
With these walls that chip when you pinch'em
Ain't there nobody around here just listenin'

It's a strange funny feeling when this mind gets a reeling
Like you when peel the tough of that orange peeling
Yes' its a strange funny feeling when this mind gets a stealing
And you can't remember the notion of what it means to be feeling

That sun above my head is bright witha' hinta' yellow
I see everyone around me moving oh so mellow
Yeah' that sun above my head is lookin' shallow
Tomorrow is a sight I got nothing to think about though

Concrete's blistering with puffs of brown smoke
My woman done left me an' I'm feelin' like a joke
Grey concrete is a blisterin' with puffs of brown smoke
And I just heard a story from some weird kinda man in some nook

See me now as I cross that bleak street
With that hanging head heavy with another thing to say
See me there now a crossing that bleak beat
With a pocket full of money that ain't ever gonna' take the pain away
Dishes May 2015
Tonight I went to the city to investigate a mystery witha girl who reaked of destiny, marijuana, and body odor.
She has hair that can only be recreated in nature by peakcocks and birds of paradise, and a mind that a child would see eye to eye with. Not as in shes unintelligent but her imagination open mindedness, curiosity and raw hunger for knowledge and fun experiences can only be matched by those of us not yet knowledgable to feel and understand the worst of our world. Having always been obsessed with the moon it didnt strike me as odd that she spoke of that first.
"The other day I figured it all out, its the ****** moon"
Now at first this meant little to nothing to me but she went on to explain how we measure time is wrong because the moon controls us ( she mentioned something about menstrual cycles +tides lol )more than the sun and then she explained something about the 13 moon cycles,
Good and bad aliens,
The universe is a place of free will,
Reptillians want the world for human souls,
Eminem got his soul back,
This guru girl with the galaxy always on her mind isnt even that close of a friend. Shes kind of crazy and reaching in ways but shes just a thinker and I think shes onto something. Her psychiatrist said shes stuck in dreamland but as far as im concerned the whole thing is a dream so ¿
I kinda think tonight was a cornerstone night in my life,
Im sorry this writing is awful.
B Alias Jun 2018
Now every strangers and then,
They have a knife behind their back,
Lose or rich they are a man in disguise,
A hat and a coat and the unicorn,
They are running a while in papers,
Sleep in a porch of drainfall,
A tuna served in a can of expiry,
Break-fast like a man with no faith,
A faith of freedom on human being,
Feelings and voices kept as a weapon,
You no no tell me that,
A wrong due to righteous,
If you had a knife before and after,
Of night that fall sombre under the silver moon.
All things bright and beautiful all creatures great and small
What are these people talking about was the first thought that came to mind when I first heard the song
Is it talking about eminent things or creatures
Creatures that destroy the bright and the beautiful
Creatures that tell us what is needed ot remain alive
**** these creatures were created I belive they hurt and claim forgiveness is freedom
No degree's came down through a wisdom by /od
Every degree outthere exsits because someone someday sat down at a table witha set of knowledge and wrote it down right, sure it has been added to and refined over the years but we adopted, it was made up and we don't care
Creatures that crave **** and yet discourage those who do
Creatures that lack a hand that helps
So how beautiful are creatures really.
Prodige Mar 2014
The sound of your voice,
that feeling of you next to me-
it used to be all I ever craved.
Just wanting to spend time with you-
get to know you-
It's all I ever thought of,
all I ever fantasized.

I used to imagine
the moment you'd walk up,
and whisper.
Whisper words
that would make my heart
skip a beat.

With you,
I wished to develop a love.
A love so powerful
that noone
could ever tell us otherwise.
Yet,
you insist on war.

You wish to fire away
and prove you're superior.
Strike,
when I least expect it.
Attack.
Attack me witha  sense of doubt
in your heart.

But my treasure,
answer something for me.
If you truly feel nothing,
then why do you hesitate?

Your passion for me
is beginning to show
through your amour of pride.
A sense of stability
is what you crave.
But how can you
when you're trapped
between the crossfires
of love and war?
She walks by him,
He smiles
"Tend my needs"
She cries
" I'm happy to be of service"
Is his response.

He stares at her eyes
Brown
Amazing in texture
So warming
"I'm happy to be of service "
He says with a witty smile.

He notices her hair
Brown
Amazing in its radiance
He swears it's soft
"I'm happy to be of service"
He gleefully announces .

He holds her aching body
So soft and smooth is her skin
She's rocking back and forth in tears
"I'm happy to be of service "
He whispers with tears of his own.

He traces her palms
The lines across them perplex him
He stares and gazed upon her cold body
Her casket lies wide open
"I'm glad I could been of service"
He says witha tear in his eyes.

He calls out her name
The night is silent
Oh, how he loved her
He whispers,
" I'm happy to love you"
And she holds him in the dark.

He wakes to her smile
How radiant it shines
Nothing else has ever taken his breath away
As he lies in his casket.
His last words are displayed;
" I'm happy to be of service today."
This story is about a butler who loved his mistress, but they knew it could never work out because she was close to dying anyway. And he gladly takes her into his arms as he dies and know that his service was enough to make her smile.
Bard Aug 2023
JOY
All these demons fiending for some redemption
But I'm thinking they just want some attention

That won't cut it so I cut it up on the dance floor
Cut it up cut it up snow white runs out the door

Been up a day, no we've been up for days
From suns first ray until stars escape the skies

Feels like its all overrated but its just all overdue who knew
Hearts aerated fillin gaps with the same old but act like its new

Someone asked me for the time so I gave them the time of their lives
Fancy umbrellas witha side of lime lets drink to our many vices

For us there is no boring ending to all this partying
Just a constant tightrope walking and death defying
I walked the straight path,
Broad wicked laughs, back draft, got the people's getting autograph,
By the poisoned, my ears picky to the sounds
That lifts me,
Bless the spliffs of a rhyme, it's so heavenly, they see it as a hellish sea,
Cuz I take the santicity, of life seriously, like why everybody wanna pick on me,
Is it because, I peep the world for what, it really bleeds, indeed,
Cant heal the wounds, that been consume, by the evils perfume, that looms,
Over society, specs nervous, like sinners in sunday service, lurkers
Take a good glance, as i romance ya medulla truth to the spiritual shooters,
Though I may be fried, and denied, but im walking like the great leaders,
Assassinated amongst us, say they love us, but I all i see is hate brushed,
Amongst us, cant talk real any more, cancel nation on the verge of a war,
Since I was raised on the battlefield, that Adolf ****** once shield,
Rookie killers tryna get time like Miller, bone chiller, vibe to the thrills of Dilla,
Perform excellence, no embellishment, succeed in all, accomplishments,
Multiple clients, we never repent to the evil that's always sent, I stitch,
Pain long ago, but no matter where I go, i go people still wanna know,
Why I rebel, i sit like jesus inside of a jail cell, i ain't scared to die in Hell,
Feel me, folks be real with me,? Where do you picture your soul eternity?
I picture my self at the mountains, blazing trees, with Panthers round me,
And a big throne, all alone my eyes glaring, bleeding the pain of humanity,
Wish they could see, what I see though the choirs sung, of the angelic family,
Link with the Cosmo portals, along with the mice galaxies, they sent me,
To level the earth, since my birth, cried once I stepped foot, on the mass,
This a new clash of jazz, flashback of the rat pack, dance to this silent track,
But you'll draw tunes, once you get caught, in the verbal booms, super sonic,
No more need for chronic, I saw the light in the dark, and vice versa,
This is an old school circa, zoot suitz witha couple of godly troops,
Still riding high in my lexus coupe, oops, I mean I'm in a daydreams,
Diary and drama of King, diseases still laying tragedy in the families,
I know what they doing, depopulate only to create, clones of humans faith,
Demonized the idea, by the time theyll realize, theyll be already magnetized,
Sights of blue beams, I told yall in the sunbeams, the hardest at dawn,
Time to get it on, one on one, microphone battle, political cypher rattles,
They playing both sides, of war and peace but I see the, death rates increase,
Along with my heartbeat, it beats to the rhythm of nature,
No weapons form against me, shall harm me, I speak from the same imagery,
Of the dead before me, they gave me these skills, to talk so eloquently,
Now Im. Sleepless, hopeless but at the same time, I'm hoping for less,
Never chase success, I just look at the rest, fighting over spare change,
Maddy Mar 2023
It is the Ides of March
The cirrostratus,cirrocumulus,and cumulonimbus stratus were
All bunched together in shades of white and gray witha touch of silver for good measure
Some were tiredi of their admirers inelicopters and airplanex
Even a duvc on tbe roof of a  tall house seemed to take notice
How they wished that humans would stop saying rain,rain go away and blane them for that and snow
Out of their control
So their friend the Sun noticed the day the clouds cried
How she wished she could dry their tears without burning thrm
C@rainbowchaser 2023
So I had no idea that I was female.
Everyone knew.
I compare it to twilight.
Bella spends a full hour trying to figure the inner workings of Edward's outer shell.
His masks. She finally figured it out.
And everybody in the theater had become aware. From the sneak preview. 3 months prior to the screening.
Still just like me. Bella scurries to find the truth of Edward's origins and nature.
But Edward's hot so I'm cool with it.
I just want to accept this.
I tried so hard to make the world feel amazing. And help everyone.
But it was me that needed help.
So many thoughts of suicide.
So many fake relationships.
Shallow promises. And emptiness.
Breaking my families heart.
And trying to impress the wrong people. Looking like a fool.
And surviving for my kids. And my mom and brother. My uncle and grandma as well. It was so confusing being a girl ina boys body. To this day. I suppress thoughts about men.
Or rather disassociate and numb witha a void filling habit or two or ten.
What you felt for those two days was at my core for years. My brain made every survival technique possible.
All maladaptive.
Drug addiction. Delusions. Self harm
Grandious thinking. Self medicating.
****** programming to like women.
I really put myself in the worst spots for no reason.
I could have just as easily figured it out and changed genders
Younger in life.
But in a way imsuper glad for all my ******* endured. I had two beautiful kids who are the world.
And I changed alot of people's minds about women. Trans. Racism. Environmental. Obesity. Mental illness addiction.  Maybe you tell me I'm ******* crazy but this was all happening to me. I was broadcasting thoughts to the entire world.
I thought the world hated me. I didnt know why everyone laughed at me.
Or avoided me. But I see now. You cant be mad at anyone for them judging you after you gave them false impressions. Or made shallow attempts at being something other than what you truly were.
I think I love the world. Thank you for loving me back. Sorry if i offended anyone. Except trump followers. You can lick the brand new car smell off of my *******. I'm done. God bless

— The End —