because it's being sold
by professionals who know all the tricks to take hold.
you don't see your money going out via plastic;
your funds look far too elastic.
my solution: go back to gold!
im an ill rhymer.youngster with an older mind i.let the beat run.then my flow is fluid.on my block i am the new kid.when i spit lyrics.people either are amazed or they call me weird and stupid.but i continue through it.coz its a gift i got.tha curse is the fact i never know when...
loves you with a gangster kiss.
the fact that we will all be dead
is something that need not be said,
for life is but a one-way street
no matter how you plant your feet.
it pushes you toward the end
then tries to pull you back again.
no future and no past endure;
the present is...
"read our good book," some would say.
"elders," say some others,
"or perhaps just follow your mothers."
I say, "find some healthy play."
you can't just sit on your ***
and watch as the hours slowly pass.
it's not good for your body;
pretty soon you'll be noddy,
why not continue delaying
the inevitable end
of all you pretend
to those you don't think you're betraying?
they're not worried about you.
they have better things they can do,
like taking themselves
down from the shelves,
and shaking one off in the loo.
as I felt the might of bisons through me
And the ice in eyes when they try describe to me
Don't try to fight I'd like to rise I guess the sky looks roomy
I slice and dice my life like it's disguised haloumi
Truth will try but truth will frighten so lies are blooming
once more, explaining,
knowing I'm not really raining
on this little mess,
but still, I'm only in training.
is it my intention to confuse?
I hope not! I'd like to amuse.
that's really my thing
because I can't sing.
it's a game without win or lose.
I believe, if not mistaken,
that it's still a little rhyme
that I wrote in my spare time,
which, every day, begins when I awaken.
I don't have that much to do,
just a little thing or two;
then I pick up on my notebook
as it grabs me like a boathook,
and I fill it up with...
or callin on the phone askin for a couple bags she has no money so she lays on her back as her boyfriends oblivious to where she's really at gone all hours whether day or night askin where she's been is gonna start a fight lookin in your eyes knowin in your heart she's tellin u...
And interrupted fish at school.
They turned their tails and swam away
To find another place to play.
The water rippled in its place,
But ripples leave without a trace.
The stone hits bottom, lying still,
As though it has some time to kill.
The fish return, retake the spot...
I rolled a fattie late last night
and then went looking for a light.
I looked in all the usual spots;
I looked and looked till I saw dots,
my lighters lost, my matches burned,
another lesson harshly learned.
but then a miracle occurred,
and I don't often use the word,
first myself.then lyrically.somethin flows through me . spiritually i am a portal. &a meer mortal.a man who can spit lyrics i ain't yet even thought of. i kinda sort of switch my mind off. let tha words caskade from my lips they seem to drip&drop off.i can't ever quit coz as soon...
if I did I'd write an essay.
poems are fun
for a party of one,
when all he wants is to play.
we've somehow lost poetry's place;
it's almost gone, and with it all trace
of having fun with words.
they'd rather teach about surds,
and all of that math stuff you just couldn't...
such mania and drive
since my residence days, in nineteen sixty-five.
back then it was all broken heart;
this time it's a non-smoking start.
either way, it makes me feel more alive.
I wish I could turn it off and on;
it's something I can't depend upon.
but life just isn't like...
As I struggle with these drooping eyes.
The sun has sprung up without warning,
And taken me by dazzling surprise.
I hadn't quite realized the hour,
Though I knew it was getting quite late,
But the day, like an unfolding flower,
Bloomed forth and soon set me straight...
I'd like to know you hold my hand,
but I look out and see the sword
that rules this Promised Land.
I'd like to think you'll hold me, Lord;
I'd like to feel you stand with me,
but I look out and hear the Word
used as an enemy.
I'd like to know you have me, Lord,
good rhyme every time you try;
some of us accept what we get to get by.
otherwise, I'd be stuck back on page one,
trying to find a rhyme for some pun,
and you'd be reading the rhymes of some other guy.
it's not just a matter of rhyming;
there's also the role of good timing,
before I get old.
some days I feel old, like I just want to fold.
it isn't a matter of the years that have gone,
but having the necessary strength to go on.
I'm not looking that bad for my age, I've been told.