9/9/16

  1. Fearless Demon
    blessed with the gift of gab rhyme tight rhyme like fast cars driving five guys whose lives passed right after the mad gab dash for the haberdashery slavery tailored Baylor guys to fight for the right to write lies as journalists turn tables on traitors or waiters who bus boys for fun toys to no ploys, more joy, who sold white people to the devil? the mass boys choir fires higher than any sire who retired the wires he wore when he slept for four years crying tears for fears falling on deaf mothers ears, come back in children! she cries, over and over again till all her fears turn into anger at the sight of her children she becomes their nightmare, they never want to be near her warm embracing always choking bosom, give us room to breathe, we know we are your seed but please we plead to leave free you dig, trees on a leaf of a dead branch left to hang in the wind or dead pan jokes told with goats who know no hope of ever floating their own boats trapped in time past fly by the seam of pants bright night skylight of a terror dome broken home knows no bo who knows joe flows hoes straight from the pok-e-nose to more bros who told jokes but being broke is no joke fella, wake up and smell the po pos know you stole coke from two strangers with no gold and a prayer special
  2. Phantom Magician
    oh mama Africa, wake up your sleeping heart
    your children have broken apart every gift you gave
    torn them to shreds, a million pieces
    spread across the world, pillaging
    sold to the highest bidder for reflective silver painted backs of glass
    reflecting darkness poured from the heart
    the wondrous odorous smelling gas of grass inhaled by slaves who never passed gas before they ate the fat of animals wearing skins for hats
    savages burned by the sun loving the still of night reflective
    reflexive arms burn back sinews strung tight
    what does it take to kill a man or make him snap intact
    should he be born black or dark or brown
    or some other color he could never be
    random facts, the thief no longer steals at night
    no, he robs in broad day light with a gat knowing no witness squeals
    for even the free man will kill a snitch
    for doing the right thing and providing information which solves a crime
    willing to do the time, take a number from the line
    as the teller calls your sign, you are fucked
    wait in line till I call your time
    remember columbine, rhymes with nines sprayed for days on slaves to
    the cadence of a teacher speaking with rulers beating the knuckles of the hands
    on desks made of trees which once provided ancestral genealogy
    blood on the leaves of diamonds that glitter only by dark of night
    never afraid of the dark but burned by brightness of light
  3. Kilimanjaro
    climb the highest peak cold mountains
    only to die alone on these broke fountains of gold
    coins poured on top of another
    wasted wishes prayed to the daughter of a god
    whose power lies in his subjects too afraid to see that their belief
    is what strengthens their slavery
    the less they believe in themselves the stronger the master
    who is a slave to his subjects
    dependent on their love for power
    striking fear in their hearts for fear they discover this dark art
    that for as long as they care he is near and dear to their hearts
    simply playing his part, the figure head symbol to blame for the dark of night
    or the fall of stars or plagues that raped our child from wombs sewn
    with strings strung so strong the wind plays our favorite song
    who are we to oppose the kings who gave us life
    separating our mother tongue driving us apart
    no longer brothers thinking as one
    babbling brooks bubbling forth carrying salt to the sea
    what once was a glorious rock now fine sand between the toes of man
    attempting to count infinity between the fingers of a child
    building sand castles in the sky where they never wash away
    the gods play on the minds of the weak
    while intelligence breed unhappy seed jaded by reality
  4. scratchin’ prophet
    killer bee stings dreams of cheese
    big thing did still will kill all who fleet
    crime scenes gun spree eloquent jumping
    fences meant for dancing men
    in lacy shirts from first of ten
    selling friends for firms that learn
    all who enter here must learn
    first their names then the way
    to capture another’s heart you must enter the mind
    of the sound far rung by bells to tell the time
    how many lines does it take to die
    up nostrils rivers of blood run cold
    to be told by the old and clear of mind
    minefields blow up unseen traps that can’t be had
    nothing is forever apart till they return to the start
    how many licks does it take till you are fat
    blowing up the world trades on slaves for fame
    who are we to blame for changing last names?
    from the beginning of time we dine
    with the souls of the damned
    begging and pleading for christ
    to leave us alone to dance
    we like dancing, prancing, romancing manson
    charlie must be lacking the fact that I’m packing
    racks and stacks of wisdom for lives apart
    what actor plays the part of the hero
    better than the villain who actually has to act
    screaming hearts portrayed with no words
    conveying the sole hurt of the slow cut?
    who are we to judge the mud slung upon us?
  5. Violent Dominator
    Turn the tables on fables told from old to the bold who grow
    for show to flow blowing through the winds of sands of time
    written in lines that bind the mind to the art of hands moving
    with sound proving life is for the brave of heart
    though the coward lives to tell the story of the dead who fled
    into battle with dreams of becoming legends they would never
    live to reap the rewards of 300 deaths for freedom is far past
    the quota that we require to pay the ferryman’s fee is free for
    spirits depart this place to be one with the devilish roaming river
    full of blood lamenting souls in the dark
    get past the act of the art of the part we play from the start?
    another soul lost in the war for the cause never stopping to pause
    for effect or the source of all boys thoughts that lead to departing
    from home to roam the world and grow sowing wild oats to reap
    plants grown from the loins of untold disciplines
    too much wisdom from the heart filling unwritten pages to be read
    by the dead said fred to the best men he ever led before leaving the battle to the end
  6. Lazy-assed contender
    remember remember the fifth of november, december,
    dis member smoldering embers of swollen members folded
    molded into a thousand parts for acts and starts of scars
    that part the sea for free to run through the wind or bleed
    more penetrating seed or venerating fees charged by mad gab
    dads who whoop their child to poop the bed and shoot the foot
    of the man who dared to fear the dread of the dead men who come near
    children are feared for innocence is clearly the secret art of vulnerability
    power changing hands between shakes of the snakes
    hidden beneath pounds of mounds smuggled across borders
    truckloads of vision told to the bold by the wisdom of old with no goals
    but prose written over and over from a distant chair
    never seeing the world as it changes, rotating in the distance
    to repeat the same scene over and over and over and over again
    if you live long enough you will see the turtles come back
    ninjas transform into cars with samurai precision cutting incisions
    embedded in the mind of all who sit still while meditating
    on windows to new worlds virtually undreamed on infomation
    that’s gleaned from the fingertips of the writing fiend
    whose drug is to think
  7. amazing magician
    king of the world king kong ain’t got shit today
    tomorrow a different story nervous energy
    unfocused mind confused
    jumping all over the place happy to be alive
    again learning something
    forgetting everything in the moment
    time flies by too quickly when you are having fun
    endless possibilities playing after the fact
    improve the moment improve the moment
    stuck in the past blaming the future for the present is smart
    what dreams may come where the wind may burn the fun had only in the sun
    on wet days
    to play and pray that innocence stays at bay
    let guilt run today free to all who pay the price
    no one ever said it twice as nice
    the right to fly like a bird in flight
    flapping butterfly wings
    tornado starts as storms bellow in the distance
    reminding fellows of dreams unfulfilled
    if only more time
    one more lie told to the mind in rhyme
    this time will be different from the other
    beaten down brows analytical break down
    to find the error in ways built up by habits of days
    strung together in sequence polyphonic art
    consciousness unfolding untold in different combinations
    jumping elated untethered
    stuck to the ground, a kite guided by a string so light
    cutting it is all that’s needed to be free to run into the sun and burn
  8. intellectual artist
    play with inner outer parts that fight for significance
    driving forces never neglected for enough
    elation
    explosive friction destroying resisting blocks
    built up millions of years in one go
    return
    the beginning
    restart wheels of fire burning down
    structures
    flying in the face of conventional artistic technique
    fine tuned masters
    adept at passing wisdom
    figure it out
    precision refined to create seed planted trees
    round and round in circles infinitely
    dancing in step to prep the delivery of children
    of bad news told to all who listen
    spread far and wide
    up, down, inside from side to side
    rinse, repeat the cycle
    the eyes that lie from the truth inside
    never reveal what is written on the heart
    for the mind reveals the spark of life
    no one ever lived that died
    insignificant parts of cogs of wheels that turn
    infinitely upon friction removing all that’s expressed in diction
    incision precision inquisition to kill all witches for saving children
    from dying before their time far past nine lives of cats that sat
    solemnly watching passers fly by night with lighted eyes
  9. outkast
    in the land of a million dreams
    there is always someone throwing stones
    living in glass houses naked to the truth
    being watched by perverted peeping toms whose eyes stay glued
    for fear of missing the tiniest details
    no interruptions serve enough to break attention
    from the spell woven by banal chit chat chatter
    as rain pitter patters on roofs and peter piper
    plays his tunes for children to run blinded into his charms
    off cliffs that send them to sudden doom
    lower levels than when they start
    these are not the pits of hell but the beginning of all who dwell
    in past tense afraid to be presently continuous in the future
    particular participles begging us all to participate in play
    acting out scenes of lives written about by authors who sit and think
    deeply about the human condition, what it means to live
    in this fantastically fabulous world of phantasmagoria
    phantoms chasing their own tails endlessly with maximum effort
    stuck in the same place since the beginning of consciousness
    showed that the listener learns lessons from she who points out reality
    geometric patterns unnoticed before
    telling of insane behavior by the intelligently smart with no hearts
    replaced by pig valves to ensure survival
  10. bye bye blackbird
    bye bye blackbird you gleaming shining dark child of night
    with your shiny feathers glowing brightly in eyes
    the reflection of light showing the world you see
    telling of your travels through earth and all time
    leaving your mark on all you pass by
    dreaming of your capture to know what dwells within your silent sight
    reaching past mankind to another life, another time
    all seeking escape from reality
    afraid to face that which is within
    interested only in your song
    distract us one moment more long
    before you are gone to whence you came
    or whence you wish to return
    your scent lingers every time you leave
    reminders of death, sweat, blood and tears
    covered in oil of toil as it boils our breasts
    to work long hours in the sun for a chance at fun with you
    yet we mourn your passing for you are no longer with us
    in fact it hurts so much that we can no longer look at memories
    for they appear to us as real yet when we grasp
    they disappear, teasing us for being foolish enough to believe
    that they love us, only to return and begin the dance all over again
    but we can never leave, like a sucker on a tit
    we have no feet to stand on without your black feathered wings
    to give us flight at the sound of light the dance begins
    oh bird of night leave us not in fright at the thought of your flight
    goodbye
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