"wiz" poems
May 1999, on my way to school on day I saw you I wanted to be with you. On the way home, I saw you again. I saw you most days.
By June, I realised you went to our school. I felt like I knew you, but I'd never talked to you.
In September, you were in my class. I flet a rush of hope that I finally talk to you.
In October, I did finally talk to you. Because of a science project. Your name was Mike and you were a wiz in class.
By January 2000, we were good friends and did a lot of projects toghther.
At the end of June, I had changed schools. I realised that I can't live without you.
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 11:48 AM UTC
Accuracy of your acrostic arrows,
Ride the wind with utmost ease.
Claiming each bulleye with poetic precision,
Hands steady, unswayed by the errant breeze.
Endowed with talent, unsurpassed finesse,
Regarded by peers as the wise-worded wiz.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
Extra Extra ...Read all about it!!!..The time for the righteous ***** is dead...You claim Your stature of limitations..But all you got is knowledge...Let me reconstruct the past...That the ones you preaching to don't see...Slavery...to share croppers.. to steal mill workers...Cotton pick en...to bootleg ‘en...to crack rock..slag ‘en...They got Aids from monkeys..So lets give it to all the monkeys..They know to much lets bury the smart ones under all the dummies...Rise up you righteous *** Shabazz..With more medals then Marcus Garvey...but this dispositions is thicker than the stash on Steve Harvey. Cuz the kids they love the Wiz...and all the green he smoke...Forget the yellow brick road...its these white bricks they see as Gold...But you so righteous with black power on Your bumper sticker...And so sweet that your water start to be thicker...then blood...with a hood that attack your own progression..You Been righteous for so long..with hope you feel depression..that you accuse your brother of mental retardation...urban gentrification...when he still live in the same house he did the year before...but you been moved to the east side on the top floor..You righteous *** ***** you been pronounced dead...back when them bombs hit over Bagdad...they waved the white flag..but you just made it easy...cuz you still so righteous...you done Got Fat, Turned Gay...and rallying for pride marches...Cuz you don’t know what else to do...your time is over..Them black cats use to be panthers, now you dress them up...and placed us all in a new minority...just to keep your righteous priority...Are You still looking East, or have you finally excepted the West..
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
(A Daddy's Reflection)
You're my pretty girl,
all smiles with dimples and your hair a curl.
Then I turn around and,
just like that,
some fella's standing on the front door mat.
My little girl looks all grown up
and a little too **** in that hair and makeup.
She fills me with pride
and not just her looks,
she's sweet and kind and a wiz with the books.
But most of all,
I hold her in esteem because she has a good heart
and Christ is her King.
So, I smile, giver her a hug,
look him in his eye;
then say a quiet prayer and kiss her goodbye.
©1997 Michael S. Davis
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 1:33 PM UTC
There once was a rat, a gym rat that is
When it came to fitness he was a wiz.
Powder and chicken was all he consumed.
All of the other foods were surely doomed.
Ripping, rushing, running around the town.
He liked to pick things up and put them down.
From his traps to calves, his muscles were ripped.
Pushing and pulling, the scales he would tip.
His veins did pop like pink birthday balloons.
His buns resembled big-booty baboons.
Many beads of sweat would drip down his face.
Gallons of water he’d drink case by case.
Visions of protein shakes danced through his head.
Others that trained with him soon would be dead.
The rat would pump iron day after day.
But, out of the gym his life was astray.
White tank tops, jean shorts, and sneaks he would wear.
In hopes that all the fit ladies would stare.
Alas poor gym rat could not catch a mate.
Perhaps, a brain workout would score him a date.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 1:24 PM UTC
Should I hang with my friend who I haven't seen in a year or go meet this tinder girl?
Someone New - Hozier
I just can't put my finger on it.
something about her is goregous.
Baby Got Back - Jonathon Coulton
You're right. It's totally her ***
Ugly Faces - Watsky
Shh, spotify, be nice. It's not her fault.
Do Better - Say Anything
Okay okay, you're right. I'll bring her home.
All Time Low - Jon Bellion
Oh c'mon, She's not that bad...
Proove Me Wrong - Dub FX
Well like... her personality is pretty cute.
Some Girls Are Crazy - Echo Movement
I can't beleive I just had *** in my backseat.
Glad You Came - The Wanted
Yikes. All the girls dropped from this party. it's just gonna be me and my three dude friends.
*To Many ***** On The Dancefloor - Flight Of The Concords*
I completely agree. Should i go or just come up with a ****** excuse to leave?
*You Don't Have To Be A ********** - Flight Of The Concords*
You're right i'll leave. What should i tell them?
Working - I Fight Dragons
No i already told them i got the day off. That wouldn't work.
My Buddy's Back - Big D and The Kids Table
Oh perfect!
Sleepyhead - Passion Pit
Yeah I should go to bed.
Let me finish this poem first.
Go To Bed - Ookla The Mok
I'm stuck on this line.
What's a good word to describe Port Veritas? Like... one word?
Home - Phillip Phillips.
That's adorable... you're so right.
See You Again - Wiz Kahlifa
**** you spotify that was super uncalled for. Now i'm bummed out.
Get Over It - Ok Go
Dude. That's like super insensitive
Ungrateful - Streetlight Manifesto
No i'm not ungrateful. I love you, you just don't need to make me cry when i'm down in the dumps like that.
Lean Into The Fall - Mona
I guess you're right. Fine. Thank you.
All The Stars In Texas - Ludo
That's the nicest thing that anyones ever said to me. I like when you do that.
Like or Like Like - Miniature Tigers
Uhh, i guess like like. You're pretty much my favorite app.
R U Mine? - Arctic Monleys.
I think maybe you're moving a little fast spotify... i don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment.
I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys
This is getting weird. I'm going to bed.
I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie
Okay no, seriously i'm turning you off.
Don't Unplug Me - All Caps.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 12:55 AM UTC
For sow the wiz
and for that the bliss
Flee through the apple tree
It is harvest times
Now jam and sweet like pie
Oh the bliss of a midnight sky
We plied and plowed
and for that the bliss
Fill up a room, no one to miss
It is now harvest times
Us to remember the Queen of ages
Don't forget to pay the wages
Oh the bliss of lovers gazes
Further down the deep deep blue
Of ocean wonders, to remind of all the ships that went through
Rough patches of ill willed weather and stormy faiths
I hope we all remember that it is to Christ we stand our faith
Oh the bliss of Life
Oh the bliss of Faith
Oh the bliss of Summers mother leaving heaps of Love on the stairs
For those who not have the bliss of being sometimes missed
By someone who actually cares
even just a little bear
lonely in the woods a quiet autumn afternoon
Not knowing when winter starts or when to say hello to the moon
Who to say good night, good morning or good bye
When you are a lonely cub in the woods and your mama was a wish on a star.
Sep 12, 2022
Sep 12, 2022 at 5:01 PM UTC
Black & Yellow
– for Wiz Khalifa ✌
*“Stay high like I’m supposed to do, that crown
underneath them clouds, can’t get close to you.”*
On the first day, he was pushed.
Robust in stance, the other forced,
this boy down the marble stairs
of the Catholic church, the school
renovated the Summer before
Khalifa began his studies,
in junior high.
The ballet was his passion,
Latin was the language that so
fluently was spoken from
his lips. The Professor smiled,
another victory accomplished.
Khalifa’s mom was so proud of
her blue eyed boy.
Rapped in a ball, he waited
for all students & halls to clear.
Rolled over, picked himself up
took to the washroom, knowing
he needed to be presentable
for his mom stood at the school gate,
brimming with pride.
All of his dreams, mystical.
Don Quixote & The Nutcracker,
fluid streams of poetry;
Elliot, Poe, Wilde. The love
letters of Ludwig van Beethoven.
Born to dance all Principal roles,
a lovers’ prose.
By four, he was ready to
leave school. Tentatively walking,
no predators in sight, out
the main door. Leaving behind
a haunting first day. Listening to
Tchaikovsky; his release, his home,
his saving grace.
© Sia Jane
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
your George Klooney appeals to your filter.
you brunch with Tungsten and straight up toxic marriages.
the mob rules the Jupiter, so therefore and ever after
you mop Hell's kitchen while you slideshow
your thumb through the wreckage
of your tender aggressions in the marsh
where the hard sky lobs acid and false globs
of character... we blur the chi chi's and wiz bang
the last dirge
we incur the wrath of our blissful innocence
and sweeten the Lama
with our Lambda, " all back of the bus, and **** "
we betwixt the twain.
and that's the grease
in the varmint. the tuft of luscious.
you gob-smack the kiwi and chip away at the porcine thunder
of our pagan banquet.
the lungs you drum with; are even now
less equipped to sermon the mount
where your meek inherits
lengua tacos.
and your life means nothing, really....
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
This Gen Z Kid..
This teen of mine..
This Young Man I'm reminded..He's my final Son.
This fast growing radiant dark horse
runnin around under the blaze of the hot sun.
Now He's grown into this tall knight champion.
Radiant chilled dark stallion.
He is unique admired and I'm in awe of His Being.
@Times I'd call him the hurricane..
Inwardly lays talents that can become gifted fame.
I believe He hears.. That voice of God.
When God calls his name.
This new kinda techno son.. Video emerged.. Youtube is his tv..
This son is Gen Z!
The cusp of millennials the beginnings of Generation Z.
Our Norms and traditions bothers them none. Open free and caring emotional nomes..
In the virtual reality chemistry..
Chilling inside their rooms in the safety of homes.
My Sons a precious commodity.
What technology wiz will he turn out to be.
Gaming entertaining.. mental challenging.
The Sons who'll be parents to the next Generation of Alpha's..
Babies entertained by notebooks of cellphone tablets.
More then societies adopted habits.
Babes that are digital natives on cellphones genetic cultures.
Terminology texted media exposures.
Data and gigabytes.. downloads and high speeds.
Swiping before being taught a first school lesson.
This is the generation..Z The Digital Sons.
Written by [email protected] (C)2018
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 1:01 PM UTC
There are too many people here.
Streets are crowded with vendors
and an indelible smell thickens.
Buildings are painted a faint blue, or pink;
they rise upwards, lofty and erratic.
On the balcony of my hotel their roofs are speckled;
one of every color.
Outlandish art fills sun-glazed shops.
Some are only twenty feet wide. Motorbikes
wiz down the cracked roads with intimidating speed.
I look up to the knotted powerlines strung above
cluttering the backdrop of twine green trees.
In the humidity, there is no fresh air.
I can scarcely breathe. Here is a city
impractically shaped, a different world,
but the tender is coming as I descend further.
In the interior is Birla Orphanage
where laughter spreads.
The children wade gigantic waves
on the shore of Do Son Beach.
Mucky water sticks to the sand on our skin.
A boy, three feet tall, beautiful bright brown eyes
peers into my life. I do not know his language,
the most we can do is share gaping smiles
as this city unfolds its secrets to me.
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
I never knew where she got the bones
But she spread them out in the grate,
And said to me that the way they fell
Would tell her about my fate.
I’d gone to her for the Tarot Cards,
I’d been told that she was a wiz,
But didn’t know what a wizard was
Till I met this girl called Liz.
She wasn’t a witch, she said to me,
For witches were too mundane,
They only had spells and love potions
And most of them were insane.
But she could look into the future with
The bones of the been and gone,
They helped to focus her visions on
The land of the to and from.
She spoke in riddles and teased my mind
In a language I didn’t know,
I asked her what I was headed for,
She said I had far to go.
She told me about my love, Christine,
And the secret plans she bore,
She wasn’t, as I had thought, pristine,
But had men in tow, by the score.
I asked her about the wedding that
We’d planned for along the track,
She said, I’d never be happy then,
Better get married in black.
She scattered the bones for a second time
And they fell about in the grate,
‘If you go on with your plans,’ she said,
‘You’re in for a dismal fate.’
‘There’s blood,’ she said, ‘and a kitchen knife,
A terrible slashing and cries,
‘I don’t know when, but it’s after then,
And a crazy look in your eyes.
Then someone lies on the kitchen floor
In a horrible pool of blood,
And footprints there, and a tipped up chair
Where somebody walked in mud.’
The wedding went as we’d always planned,
I never gave it a thought,
And Christine put on my wedding band
She didn’t think she’d be caught.
A man came round to the house one day
To say that Christine was his,
I took good note of his muddy boots
And suddenly thought of Liz.
He came at me with a kitchen knife
And said that he’d set her free,
I’d thought the knife had been meant for her,
But no, it was meant for me.
I seized his arm and we struggled then
While Christine stood in the door,
I somehow managed to turn the knife
And he lay dead on the floor.
‘Why did you set him loose on me,’
I cried, ‘the son of a gun,
What was the vow you made to me
That I’d be the only one.’
But Christine cried, and she knelt by him,
Her lover, down on the floor,
‘I told him before he shouldn’t come,
But he said that he loved me more.’
I was acquitted for self-defence
When the case came up for court,
And later I found that Christine went
She wasn’t the loyal sort.
I went again to the Oracle
And I spilled the bones with Liz,
While she laid on me a gentle kiss
And said, ‘It’s what it is!’
David Lewis Paget
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
Jamming jellyfish
Top-Me
((Giddy App Seahorse))
The horseradish on
my lap______
The jolly Jelly
Gefilte Fish
Little help from my friends
How we click the laptop
One dent to Deceive me
The Rock and Rolling
Stomach his smoke went
Like *** Cheese)
he leaves me
The spicy tongue map
Z-Top Zany Chilli Pepper____
your # tap dance tap
Italian top of
the cheese designer skirt
The outskirts of Naples
Her sweet dimples, please
The Islands of Sicily
So many Cheese forms
Terms of Endearment
Mama Mia Murano-Positano
Her lips of Romano Cheese
(To Top Me) Challenge me
Cheese doesn't mix
with cappuccino,
she's the Capri
Ala Denti
Cheese Wiz chair
Mediterranean Wines
Bear men doing low
sips of time
the grisly(Z) pour
The car smelled like
Flight (Top Me) Swiss air
Meet Dominique
How it went La Cirque
Anti Christ Devil Red-bed
cheese mystique
SOS to their notes
PS the junk car in
Midas the makeover
Make-up artist counter
Clinique
I could paint over your hood
Creamy mind put at ease
He's so displeased
New castle disease
Mingling social disease
She's so infectious
ZZ- Top me rock me
Eyes bloodshot you got me
And nevertheless
With twelve and V
V- Vamps tramps
and 14 karats
The French Lieutenant
Mistress Brie with heavy
bite teeth like garnets
Cher turning back time
The burlesque striptease
Come back little Sheba
Z Top Queen of Sheba
I know it's coming soon____?
All Tight claustrophobic
The tight squeeze
Him speaking
Mandarin Oranges
The British Colony
Unique Chinese languages
Her hills, San Francisco
Jack Nicholson
Comedy of China town
The American Women
Smile cheese at the Disco
The food Cantonese
style
Z muscles Hercules
Joan Rivers
Fashion Police
The Cheese of Portuguese
Its the meat market
With his nifty thrifty Neice
All Socrates
(Gromet and Cheese)
Those Brooklyn
workers
The Falcon Matese____*
More cheese Z-Top
Who could ever top
The string cheese
Silken strings became
to rest, I rest my cheese
What cheese fascinates you
Tell me?
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC
POLAND, France, Judea ran in her veins,
Singing to Paris for bread, singing to Gotham in a fizz at the pop of a bottle's cork.
"Won't you come and play wiz me" she sang ... and "I just can't make my eyes behave."
"Higgeldy-Piggeldy," "Papa's Wife," "Follow Me" were plays.
Did she wash her feet in a tub of milk? Was a strand of pearls sneaked from her trunk? The newspapers asked.
Cigarettes, tulips, pacing horses, took her name.
Twenty years old ... thirty ... forty ...
Forty-five and the doctors fathom nothing, the doctors quarrel, the doctors use silver tubes feeding twenty-four quarts of blood into the veins, the respects of a prize-fighter, a cab driver.
And a little mouth moans: It is easy to die when they are dying so many grand deaths in France.
A voice, a shape, gone.
A baby bundle from Warsaw ... legs, torso, head ... on a hotel bed at The Savoy.
The white chiselings of flesh that flung themselves in somersaults, straddles, for packed houses:
A memory, a stage and footlights out, an electric sign on Broadway dark.
She belonged to somebody, nobody.
No one man owned her, no ten nor a thousand.
She belonged to many thousand men, lovers of the white chiseling of arms and shoulders, the ivory of a laugh, the bells of song.
Railroad brakemen taking trains across Nebraska prairies, lumbermen jaunting in pine and tamarack of the Northwest, stock ranchers in the middle west, mayors of southern cities
Say to their pals and wives now: I see by the papers Anna Held is dead.
2k
I've always aspired to be a little bit of everything
Try everything once, give everyone a second chance
I dreamt of making mountains from milwaukee's molehills
And find prosperity and pleasure in the potholes
Ask not what your city can do for you but what you can do for your city
And I'll give my city a little bit of everything
Befriend a little bit of everyone
Some see my city as small, but it gives birth to such big dreams such high hopes
A state that has given birth to my state of creativity
A city that has certified that anything can happen
At any second
My city is a little bit of everything
Dangerous like the streets as the numbers get lower
Rambunctious like the fireworks at the lakefront on the 3rd of July
Still like the suburbs of Wauwatosa all the way to Muskego
Freezing like Madison mid January
Scorching like the city during summertime
My city has made me as
Poetic as Maya Angelou
Brave as Martin Luther King
Intelligent as Thurgood Marshall
Soulful as that lady that sung the blues
**** as Dorothy Dandridge in her red dress
Delicate as Diana before she met the Wiz
Quiet as Celie
Sweet as Suga
Arrogant as Ali
Humble as Halle
Milwaukee, the city that made my dreams.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 3:13 PM UTC
Dear Amber Rose,
El pueblo unido jamas sera vensido.
(A city united would never be beaten)
"Half naked and I'm still not asking for it" - some crazy chick
Poem begins:
You are preaching women empowerment.
Dress how you dress make your self feel ****
Even it means wear nothing while walking in the streets.
I get the motive of your movement **** Walk I guess that's what we should be teaching our daughters.
But if you're dancing on that ***** pole now that's a different story.
Tell us how many ***** you had to **** to make it to the glory.
Hard to preach to a generation that glorifies strippers and undermines knowledge.
I am so pro women but **** like **** Walk and so on are the reason we are separated
men and women segregated.
Your biggest concern is what next party you are hosting, while these young girls are all confused about their bodies getting liposuction.
Trying to be you
Trying to be you
But why? when even Wiz Kalifa depicted you as an object and didn't glorify.
***** is power between the right pair of legs.
Tell us how many motel sheets have you gotten wet.
Such a shame our ancestors probably turning in their graves. Lauryn Hill wasn't naked and sold more then Nicki, Iggy, and Kim combined.
The real definition of a role model
Guess that's why you differ
Since you're a *** model.
To ***** licious to be a runway model.
But perfect for the *** shot I want to spray up in your mouth model.
Then go kiss your son with the same lips you rocked the mic model.
Women rights is not about a dress code.
Is so much deeper but what can be expected from a stripper.
El pueblo unido jamas sera vensido.
(A city united would never be beaten).
El pueblo unido jamas sera vensido.
(A city united would never be beaten)
Sincerely,
A concerned father
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 8:46 AM UTC
Rollin B's in the Mazda, blazin
The constant high is what we're cravin
Wiz Khalifa, Lil Wayne, and Drake spitting the supa hot
Fire, lite up that ***
The smell, getting riper
Peter piper
Pack that pipe, er
Spark up, we faded
This **** is not overrated
Lite it up, we floatin
Carefree, no gloatin
Normal, what I am now
Later.... wow.
And I'm lit.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 10:41 PM UTC
"8th March 2018
A pen found its ink
A purpose found its man
Art,
The mother of all that's beautiful
brought me a gift
A life skill that would be my passage of lift
He came to life in unhealthy mental weathers,
his soul was birthed in shabby unearthly waters
and bound to mine
in an everlasting covalence.
he was given to me an agent of healing – an outlet,
a living freedom;
a drain for my pain,
a gift and a curse he is a stain on the domain of my name – but
I take pride in our duality,
my existence paradigm was on the edge of a cliff
suicidal - I lay on my back under the roof
of a gloomy identity
my name and my frame
soaked in melancholia of a quantity
that exceeds the infinite.
DEAR WORDSMITH
You and I
Are a year older
I am a decade wiser
I can feel it in my hair
the truth in its absolute quintessence
is a universe closer.
The way you hold my mind in your gloves
gives me sleepless nights and faceless days
but who am I to question my panacea?
I promise I will make the most of what we can be.
A savior, a tutor, a sage
My poet, my light, my flame, my light.
WordSmith_Wiz
03/08/2019
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 6:03 PM UTC
He drinks until he's throwing up,
When he's with the Taylor Gang
I read until my eyes are closed
When I'm at the library
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
v.t: to fail to fulfill the expectation, hope, or desire of; to prevent the fulfillment of (a hope or plan); frustrate
A God given angel
A woman of success
A calming spirit
A woman of wisdom
Who seems to easily disintegrate my stress
A role model in my life
A motherly figure
Once a wife
What I see in her is what I dream for myself
No she isn't perfect but she was right
"Get your sh..stuff together! Not for me, or anyone else. Do it for yourself!"
Problem is...
I don't know how to do that type of ****
I cant even put 2 and 2 together
But that aint a shocker
I've never been a math wiz
Spiraled out of control once before
But somehow I sorta cleaned it up
At least enough to pick my face up off the floor
God sent me a blessing
But all I seem to do is keep stressing
Her completely out
The frustration in her voice is so real to me
I know Im in for it
When she starts the "Y'all young people......." speech
She's hard on me and she keeps it real
What she says, especially in her anger and frustration, I feel
"I just want the best for you"
"Mind Over Matter"
"Your life is depending on you and the things you do"
When she goes into her mother mode
Sometimes, I am annoyed
But at least she's not distant
Like my mother
Who in some areas, gave up on me a long time ago
Im not the best kid
But Im working on it, I have to
Daddy never did
I love her because she is trying
I love her because she doesn't tell me what I want to her
She tells me what I need to hear
Stuff she doesn't know that will hit home on the inside
She doesn't know her role
She's unsure of her place
Im usually pretty bold, the type to be in your face
But in her case, I don't say what I need to say
You don't have a specific place or spot
For me you fit the role of a mentor, a mother, an aunt
Maybe one day, I'll actually make you proud
Not sure when that will happen but definitely at some point
I love you with all my heart
Im sorry to disappoint
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 10:57 PM UTC
Click, clock, wiz,twirl
The cogs begin to hustle
As they spin and swirl
filling the daily bustle
Moving the packages from here to there
Repeating the daily hurry
Fixing them up everywhere
To erase the masters worry
The cogs repeating and teaching
Taking them from the clutter
With the powerful arms, reaching
Stopping with a stutter
They stuff them, paint them, move them
Teach them, fight them, carve them
They fill them, clutter them, rush them
Shove them, push them, test them
As they move the silly gifts along
Making them perfect for the future
It make takes years, maybe not too long
To form the perfect structure
And when the packages are all done
They will be shipped off to the store
We're they will be free to run
And the factory won't be needed more
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 2:40 AM UTC
I'm too through
**** it
**** all of the ********
That piles on my back and y'all just seem to be so cool with
The world taking shots
Just because I'm not
An aggressive *** ***** id still grab the chrome and pop
***** I'm all about them bodies ***** I **** with no limits
And yeah I'm from the burbs but know y'all can still get it
I don't care bout how you living ***** you deserve to die
So it's time I get that Mac and get to ending lives
Cuz this ********
I swear tho
But I don't even care yo
I'm on that **** the world. It's twisted underneath this hair bro
Plus I don't have a heart, I guess im friends with that scarecrow
From oz, no wiz needed cuz he can't bring back the dead so
I roam a ******* zombie
Who gone stop me who gone stop me ?
And I ain't ducking ****
Who gone pop me who gone pop me ?
I ain't got **** to do but rap and do hobbies
So I'll take over the world by next year probably.
*****
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 10:45 AM UTC
This is what I gotta say
Song about this rose
Thought it was dream
Dope in brain
Medicate the soul
I'm not wiz Khalifa
I have to say
i like like to get medicated
Somewhere in my soul
Let me paint a picture
She was that girl
You seen from far away
Gone at the frat castle
A diamond you could say
All blue drapped all over her
All over her
All over her
Picture perfect body
Reminds me,the work of
Michelangelo
I'm finna take a look
Take a look real quick
Sky blue eyes
Takes me to the sea
Don't hide a disguise
everything you want to be
Just Everything you see
Blue over the shoulder
Down to her waist
Wrap it up a lil bit
It's in the eye of the beholder
She was that girl
You seen from far away
Gone at imaginary palace
A diamond you could say
All blue drapped all over her
All over her
All over her
Picture perfect body
Reminds me,the work of
Lets go with monet
She know I ain't got no money
Treats me like gold
Met her with my buddy
Sailing uncontrolled
Lost in my way
You could say I was hungry
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
#20 | 31 Poems for August 2016
I began writing this at exactly 03:58 a.m. on a Sunday morning while listening to Charles de Gaulle to JFK by Bas.
Lately I write my most honest pieces during the early hours of Sunday mornings while everyone is still fast asleep.
Wonder what the view is like from Charles de Gaulle to JFK, 30 000 feet in the air.
But anyway, you and I still got bad blood between us like sickle-cell anaemia.
Reminiscing back when I used to be close friends with a girl named Amelia.
Guess we drifted apart as soon as I moved back to Pretoria, maybe the distance dismantled our friendship.
I’ve decided to do this all alone and if anyone’s coming along then let them come along.
I wish I could drift way with the scent of this cup of coffee but a few minutes from now it’ll be colder than your shoulder.
Always wondered if you’d head to Cape Town to go study at that school of brand leadership we always talked about.
But you chose to stay at the Pretoria campus because of certain unforeseen circumstances.
In 2014 I got accepted but unfortunately the tuition was too high like Wiz Khalifa and my mother couldn’t afford it.
That’s why I may have the perception that dreams delayed will always feel like dreams denied.
I’ve been praying for three whole years for a miracle, adjusted my faith and became more spiritual but still nothing has changed.
Guess I’m just young and unlucky; my hands are freezing and my heart is bleeding.
Navigated through space and time just to find the time to give you space.
Words unspoken make way for a silent devotion, this whole thing hurts but I try my best not to let my emotions show.
Wonder what happened, we suddenly stopped talking several months ago.
Maybe you have changed, I just hope that you’ve changed for the better.
I am slowly falling apart and all I can think about is gathering the pieces of my broken heart together.
Maybe you have changed for the better, I guess no one works that hard to stay the same.
My hands are freezing and my heart is bleeding, this whole thing hurts but I try my best not to let my emotions show.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 10:02 AM UTC
I have shut the doors to my mind, I shut myself out
For inside my head there exists
a thick darkness that seeks to engulf me.
Pain – Fear – Rage and Love.
Shapeless monsters hiding – waiting to devour me;
Now to the heavens I look, towards the enchanted skies;
glittering and shimmering with cold- but warm enough
to house my sullen soul.
I will look towards them; and find my solace.
Everlasting and steadfast, I am enthralled by you.
Tales from the surface of my within,
The ones I won't tell no man, I let you hear
In the beauty of the night, you wink and glisten.
I look up at the night sky,
our eyes meet in the appreciation of devotion;
of a love between man and kind.
Enshrouded in the warm embrace of fleecy clouds;
she covers my world with her glorious silver smiles;
Lady Moon, Queen of the nighttime cohort.
I look up at the night sky,
and there he remains like a friendly old man frozen in his seat;
pointing the way to that may need it,
his hand remains steady as he guides.
He is a lone star,
shunning communion with comrades and compatriots;
he shines alone, a jewel in solitude.
I look up at the night sky,
they glide past on the wings of the wind
like gracious phantoms.
They weave and churn showing off their flexibility
and volatile dancing skill;
Teaching me how to survive in a world which loves a few.
The grey clouds flip and flop, they boil and bubble.
Rejoicing in the fellowship of flying embroidery;
they promise the gift of life giving rain.
I look up at the night sky,
my eyes cannot see them, but yes they speak to me.
From places out of the reach of civilization;
intuition and heartwarming reassurance flow;
from matter and energy,
at the bounds of space and time,
from regions further than the confines of the known multiverse;
at the feet of God.
The black of the night and the blue of day – the only barriers shielding them from my sight;
They reignite my spirit and set alight the torches of hope
inside the rooms of my soul;
I know not what they are,
but they watch over me and they watch over you.
Look into the skies
and you too will hear their silent voices.
Stare into the splendor of the night
and commune with your inner beauty.
You will be set ablaze.
WordSmith_Wiz
26/07/2018
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 5:40 PM UTC