people need guidance. why? why do we need a leader to follow? is that because thats how it is, its tradition- theres always been a figure head? was there ever a time when there was no head, no patriarch, no monarch, no politic, no head-honcho? what would the world be like if we were all wolves? all sheep? all head honchos or all minions? WHAT WOULD WE DO?
Youd bow down before greatness, youd pray for the fates to change yours but its late and youve got chores your cows arent fed its almost time fo bed but your head is filled with thoughts of the palace, of those in power through some self-proclaimed phallus of god spreading seed that was passed down the line, generations of king but only one was there for mine, for me, for the birth of your freedom. come one come none come many or some but those that gather, gather in tight we cant let our precious be scarred by sunlight we cant let the skin, so soft and so pale be touched by the UVs or be radiation assailed. he cant see a drop of sadness or pain so when its his turn to rule once again we will have disfunction and disease, we will have no understanding of living in the trees, no knowledge of whats really outside when your bed was mosquito netted but your man-servant died. Malaria kills those without money for protection- magics out of the bag even HIV passes inspection so im spreading my seeds, im sewing my oats- at least more smart handsome men will be inhabiting this godforsaken globe.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
ah shit i forgot what i was doing.
... but it doesnt matter. long as im doing it according the the impulses of my heart and my desire, my own thrust-for-hire my push for the fire my coal on the burn ill set it off light it up and pass after the burn exhale after your heads filled with rhymes that i churn you should consider fillin your tank with liquid concern. your sight needs alignment and your objectives need balance- theres a firestone special for you cherry valance now hop into my car where we can go far ive greased this thing up to get us through to marrs we're slipperier than air but do not despair stabilities a headache away and a 9 to five for solid pay. too bad the stress from answering phones is no longer abated by your hunger for prone. seafood sick and tired of your bosses prick you should consider modeling or acting your should have followed your dreams but the life that you chose walked you out of your seams so you're sweater's unraveled and your walking naked the floor is too cold but youre baked so that makes it a good night take flight sleep tight and dont fight it- this is the way you lead your life- undecided.
so what will you be when you grow up?
Me.
so what will you be when you grow up?
Me.
been a minute.
but im back. for what reason unknown- but subconcious is overridden so my head is throbbing. i have too many issues of time to waste with watching these animated representations of a cooler life than mine so lets rewind- ill show you some time about a guy with no crimes, no rhymes, no push come to shove- he had no balls and two holes in his glove. he didnt make love he had consensual sex but the ex never gave him back the three thousand dollar dress so his next best bet was to put it in a vet, he could have some fun with the top down in the sun and the resale would be fine he'd cover his ass in time but the economies shit and hes getting nothing from craigslist until a foreign deal comes along, he ships it to hong kong to find the bank cheque aint shit and his car is being split apart for parts in some chinese black market shop so he starts panicking- his last investment vanishing his hope is gone splinters of his remnant heart and long forgotten past sting his bare feet as he shuffles on past the door onto the bed that he bought from ikea to rest his head. thank the lord for throw pillows as he muffles the shot, but instead knicks his jaw and cripples his last thought. the man now bleeding, crying and seething, mad at the world for treating him poorly, mad at his ex for not leaving the jewelry, mad at the man who conned him out his car but he forgets the good things in store. the things in storage if he had only known, he had a 65 cadilac decked out in chrome- he had a three story house furnished floor to ceiling but the only thing he found more appealing than the gold chandelier with real oil lit lamps was the lady he saw struggling up the ramp. he eargerly rushed to help her move along but when he turned around the vision was gone- goodbye goodbye my mansion in the sky thought the slack-jawed failure with despair in his eye. his fire forgotten, his huge heart was rotten, his drive to survive to outlive and out shine to best himself and to try to top the very best all while jivin the the rhythm that flowed through him- the warmth that consumed him, the fire to fuel him. but hes been runnin on fumes for days with no shoes hes amazed at how used his feet are to the asphalt- theyre suprisingly firm... theres no shame in being human, this much he has to learn, and as he takes a step off the curb and into the traffic his heart beat flares as do the blares of the half-shit half-sick music he hears as he goes down, another sad song for history, another failed tom tom.
if my fires an ember than its at an unbeatable stage itll his at your spits and only feed off of sticks and it will utilize stones to melt down for thicker skin ill use whatever edge i got until it means that im in so if my sidewalk ends ill jump from street to street ive got nowhere but up and knock-offs on my feet but i wont miss a beat cuz the clock never stops ticking the unforgiving minute never stops nor does it quiken but itll sneak up on you when you expect it least take your doubts and your fears and leave them on the street.
but im back. for what reason unknown- but subconcious is overridden so my head is throbbing. i have too many issues of time to waste with watching these animated representations of a cooler life than mine so lets rewind- ill show you some time about a guy with no crimes, no rhymes, no push come to shove- he had no balls and two holes in his glove. he didnt make love he had consensual sex but the ex never gave him back the three thousand dollar dress so his next best bet was to put it in a vet, he could have some fun with the top down in the sun and the resale would be fine he'd cover his ass in time but the economies shit and hes getting nothing from craigslist until a foreign deal comes along, he ships it to hong kong to find the bank cheque aint shit and his car is being split apart for parts in some chinese black market shop so he starts panicking- his last investment vanishing his hope is gone splinters of his remnant heart and long forgotten past sting his bare feet as he shuffles on past the door onto the bed that he bought from ikea to rest his head. thank the lord for throw pillows as he muffles the shot, but instead knicks his jaw and cripples his last thought. the man now bleeding, crying and seething, mad at the world for treating him poorly, mad at his ex for not leaving the jewelry, mad at the man who conned him out his car but he forgets the good things in store. the things in storage if he had only known, he had a 65 cadilac decked out in chrome- he had a three story house furnished floor to ceiling but the only thing he found more appealing than the gold chandelier with real oil lit lamps was the lady he saw struggling up the ramp. he eargerly rushed to help her move along but when he turned around the vision was gone- goodbye goodbye my mansion in the sky thought the slack-jawed failure with despair in his eye. his fire forgotten, his huge heart was rotten, his drive to survive to outlive and out shine to best himself and to try to top the very best all while jivin the the rhythm that flowed through him- the warmth that consumed him, the fire to fuel him. but hes been runnin on fumes for days with no shoes hes amazed at how used his feet are to the asphalt- theyre suprisingly firm... theres no shame in being human, this much he has to learn, and as he takes a step off the curb and into the traffic his heart beat flares as do the blares of the half-shit half-sick music he hears as he goes down, another sad song for history, another failed tom tom.
if my fires an ember than its at an unbeatable stage itll his at your spits and only feed off of sticks and it will utilize stones to melt down for thicker skin ill use whatever edge i got until it means that im in so if my sidewalk ends ill jump from street to street ive got nowhere but up and knock-offs on my feet but i wont miss a beat cuz the clock never stops ticking the unforgiving minute never stops nor does it quiken but itll sneak up on you when you expect it least take your doubts and your fears and leave them on the street.
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