Writing rapped up

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Tags:
  • Life
    • Trailmixed
    • Looking inside the outside higher points of veiw, everyone has the answers...

    Poem Commentary

    Haven't posted in a while :) hope yall like eiit!

    Writing rapped up

    How does one go on to go long again and again

    about day dreamin we relay what time frey has forgiven

    let this day to life stuff everyone paints

    straights up say later gator to stop hatin To winkle her mind

     stars aint big enough

    ringin cell jingles making money winged wrinkles up our hourglass of hindsight’s mimetime

    as I sit here in this shop of teas dare I be singin these songs to foresee this

    every prince on earth kickin up the dirt

    Don’t run or hide now or its ride n die tryin

    find this challenge of simplicity too hot

    For they will rub in in our eyes the dirt that rolls the rests from our hearts from the street ofs P-town demise lined up to lie deep

    They call me a societal serial lineman 5:AM I chime in today what’s nay or there, here or not fare cause real MC’s share whats imagining real, fathom a phantom patterns to escape rhymes innate ability to create, hymn the limes n corona speedin up DUI realities to out-perform this stone cold colored corridor

    Bat third eyes in a haze not sure only to record hoarders holding disease.

    I write them crazy raps too fat for craps screamin  lines can’t make one-two punches to the bowl

    In and out its hold,fire, a cramp a fold hurry time held in each hand

    As I slip into this American dream of twisted livin wishin

    I only see staaaaars

     open to a soul spark n minds darting for love

    Her slightest glance, a chance a goal a pick up I’m sure

    How do we all fit into this world of gloves, crimes whirls of spit n mean mugged hugs

    Im stuck in her time frame tombed n doomed for America’s beautiful day looms again

    Rich power is dutiful, takin homies scrapin lonely aimed at the individual

    Hand changes to the Nationless name game as you vomit on our Christmas bought sweater

    Sown together by deceit 3 times week s’the limit so forget to re-give your receded gift of soaked spoken worded history

    Distort or chort my mind and BLAM! Your cermansonaries a mystery secrets hidden behind yo mama’s scammed jam

    Too much n outta touches rid us oh please everyone,

    Madness to all, freedom n justices psh…to the mall homies!

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    ginga commented on Writing rapped up

    12-02-2010

    Trail, This rant of the mall shoppers and materialism is always a wake up call. Minimalism is the bomb. ginga

    Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    Trailmixed’s Poems (28)

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