I saw no way- The heavens were stitched
I felt the columns close
The earth reversed her hemispheres
I touched the Universe
378: Emily Dickenson
The Shape of Death
Because I could see through all the eyes of men,
Pandora's sin,the sum of every joy and sorrow crowded in
I felt the paucity of greed.
The simple mood of life enriched by guileless generosity
I asked, "Are good and evil mixed?"
I saw no way - the heavens were stitched.
And stitched perhaps until the hour of death
Because I could see through all the eyes of men,
I knew of life's inevitable end
that closure, that omega rose
that brings eternal sweet repose.
That stealth of life in increments
the broken bond of flesh to death
Within its marble tenements
I felt the columns close
The columns closed, my mother passed,
Because I could see through all the eyes of men,
my solace weighed in beauty that we gathered,
in all my childhood hours
In sunsets, birdsong, clouds, and dew
in measured memory of her face
I turned myself away from our lost years
The earth reveresed her hemispheres
Reversed - that algebraic leap,
Because I could see through all the eyes of men
All wisdom spilled to unity of life,
Death un-veiled - benign as the blank page before birth
returning that Divine immortal leaf
like the shape of space that waves traverse,
when split, between a particle
And I can say with nothing to coerce
Perhaps....I touched the Universe.
This is written in the Glosa Form
See 'about this poem' for details.
It started growing in a field
Billy Stover watched it grow
Because the corn was tall
Because Billy Stover was small
No one knew
Now one saw
No one saw how the tiny boy watched by the hour in summer's heat
Even from the top of high elm trees by the road
who could have detected that small lad stretched out
on his stomach leaning on his elbows watching
On stormy days Billy watched from the closest window
elbows propped up on the sill
He knew it was growing though he couldn't see it
He'd be down in the field now in the mud watching
but his mother forbade it
"What do you do out there Billy all by yourself?
What is it you do out there instead of playing?"
On certain days when the wind swayed the green stalks
and nipped Billy's cheeks his eyes would light up
He fought back a burning desire to run into the white kitchen
to tug at his mother's apron to bring her out
and show her his one spot
He jumped up once when the flames leaped high
started running for the house
"Mother! Mother!" he silently shouted
Every part of his small body shook with joy but
The bleak white walls of the kitchen
his mother her hands dipped in bread dough....................................
It started growing in the field in the dirt in the mind of Billy Stover
And no one could have kept a secret better than Billy
Into the light I see,
with rays in clouds and warmth in me.
Brittle is the air around,
no voice is there, nor sweeter sound.
Within my scars and broken back,
there are my kin, there love I lack.
The oceans turn, therefore I weep,
Is it truly my tears to keep?
Now the mountains begin to fall,
like sand and dust to death they call.
I hear my children bleed and cry,
there bellies thirst and almost dry.
Some will seat and eat there fill,
"lets help them now, so now we will!
His mother would find pride within,
a pretty thing this life of sin.
Alas, my days are almost through,
my breath, my flesh and heart is too.
Let this be my final song,
for war alone is for the strong.
Into the night I see,
is there still love left for me?
I do not know?
Comforting self destruction
Ice thawed by blood
Soul torn apart
Heart trampled in the mud
Innocent little life
Trying to find its way
Child with no father
Cries the day away
Love without reason
Life without hope
See the blooming soul inside
Smell the burning dope
Pain that's been felt
Many times before
All because of one
Skanky little whore
Given time I just need to stand
let me see my parents smile
trades what I couldn't do without
prayer of hope that I wouldn't leave them
because some days I blur them out
I complain that life was hard
But to see death come to them is even harder
let it bring the truth
I no inside my eyes there lye's the proof
its me, they are who the should be
my realization is weak
my imagination is fiction
but bring into life is what I fake and make is what is existing
trying to take control of the feeling
but to lose all that with the past times
makes the situation rewinds on my mine
forgive me god now I am trying
I don't wan ta to leave u daddy
But I think I can make it on my own
I don't wan ta see you weak momma
I only wan ta image of you as being strong
Yes I know the rain don't only wash away
The sun is not what brighten the day
and its good to place these things together
but my emotions is lost though all weather
bring me though
don't let me blame
just give me the strength to gain
let me be who I'm supposed to be
don't let me fall into the dictation of hurt
god bring me close to my identity
Before I stepped into this brave new Valley of The Tears,
My mother used to sing me songs of Knights all brave and fierce.
She told, as she was herself told by her own mother dear
That they came from far back in time, some millions and a year.
These Knights, I've never seen but with my closed eyes in her womb
And in those days, they rode in holy circles in my room.
The circles went all up and down like in a whirling pool,
With lights and fires everywhere and seats as soft as wool.
These nights of sleepless nights, as I played witches with a broom,
I never knew the lights I saw were real witchcraft and gloom !
'Twas like a fairy tale to me, with engines swirling 'round
And angels white and brilliant surrounding holy ground:
The pearls of white and blue beryls and stones as red as wine,
and the gemstones, and amethysts and crystals so divine !
I used to travel back in time with windows open wide,
But one day, the Knights came and brought me to the world outside;
That's when I was born to my mother as a mammalian,
Until the doctors discovered I was a reptilian...
which means that for the human race, I am THE ALIEN...
by Voahanitriniaina Rabary-Andriamanday from Madagascar
NOTE: This poem is a humoruos stab at PMS from a mans point of view
I can see your blood boiling
through the blades I once called eyes,
they were once beautiful like jewels
now they hurt my deep insides.
cutting at my guts
and like a noose on my lungs;
your words seek like bullets
your mouth like sniper guns.
I’m hit with each inaccuracy…
Being killed by words untrue;
and you even got the nerve
to tell me what you think I do.
But let me get mad
and try to plead my case;
then suddenly the world
is a f--ked up place.
You got tears running down…
What the Hell did I do?
We were just sitting and laughing
I could swear that we were cool.
I should have seen it…
It’s Aunt Floe…,
This battle can’t be won or reasoned
I think its best I go.
Cause I hate Aunt Floe
and she hate me too;
she sit and talk sh-t
about the gum I chew.
The color of my shirt…,
She say my look is a stair;
She say my best has no worth
And she doesn’t stop there.
I didn’t change
I’ve been the same
these 28 days,
but now I’m f_ckin A__hole
Aunt Floe gave me that name.
She said get out my face
This aint your home no more,
But I’m more puzzled by
What was said before.
I love you
With her glossy eyes
I knew it was true,
But horribly sly
You see these words
make me the fool.
The one that’s cruel
That a__hole dude,
That sparked the fuel
To this f__kin feud.
But I swear to God
I didn’t start this sh_t,
Why would I give up my love
To live my life like in a pit.
This is horrible sh_t
Wasted days spent,
On nothing but the worst
I could be bathed in your sent.
You could be laughing
While I’m smiling
But Aunt Floe Won’t let this be,
And the only way to make this right
Is hold my tongue a week.
And that ain’t gone happen
I’m a person too,
But I got feelins
and don’t know what to do.
Now its been six days
She locked herself
In the room
I call it her cage.
I smell a sent in the air
It wasn’t there before,
Now lookin down the hall
I see an open door.
Is this a trap
I’ll guess I’ll see,
If I fall for another
You know that’s dumb ass me.
Curled in the bed
I think I know that girl,
But where’s the hells Aunt Floe
The one that f__ked my world.
She packed up and gone
Didn’t even say good bye,
Just came wit gang of bullsh_t
And vanished in the sky.
Is that you my dear
Can you please come here,
Listen close and crystal clear…
I hate Aunt Floe
Next time she here
Make sure I’m stocked
with weed and beer.
I love you punk. ?
Gun fire all around, bombs going off in the distance
It was some of the angry mobs and resistance
Father was the king of SafeHaven a small kingdom
Like all other kingdoms it fell in random
Fire started in the castle
And along with it came a battle
It was a distance memory now because the child has now grew
Many things in this child that made memories stew
My name is Mastrey, a young orphan who was there that night
Mastrey saw her in the distance and her father and mother in his sight
Everyone was loud that night and made all the children hide
But that evening Mastrey saw her mother and father die
She ran into the bushes in such a fright
And evil doers were running around with flashlights
Mastrey remember it as he distracted them
Her eyes was so confused with problems
Mastrey new that it was because of what just occurred
His feelings of what those people did was not awkward
The distraction worked, he went back to were she was
Hiding and very scared she was, he asked her, can you trust me just because?
Her answer that night depended on her lively hood
As Mastrey was their with his hand reaching out to her as he stood
Pulling her up from the ground he looked into her eyes that were SeaBlue
Mastrey had made a life long friend and love, She knew it was true
Next: My Story Telling, Who is this Princess
Strange or not
Odd and fun.
That’s not all
And still are
Strange and odd.
life is life.
Not is lies.
Truth seeps from
Lies, lies, lies
Move, move, move
Lies are life.
Lies are death.
Lies are homes.
Lies are pain.
Lies are truth.
Truth is life.
Truth is death.
Truth is home.
Truth is pain.
Truth is lie.
Truth is that.
Lies will die.
Lies will cease.
Truth will live.
Truth will be.
The soul of the crab
Oh how she hides behind that shell
Lets no one see her feelings
She’s practical in everything
But those feelings have her reeling
She’s sensitive, and hurt easy
And her moods they be so many
And yet she has not one bad bone
Malice, she has not any.
She be the one for queen and country
Digs into history
She’s always loyal to her kin
She loves her family
She’ll protect them with her life
Don’t no one touch her man!!!
She has a brilliant memory
And she’ll get you when she can.
Her mother, she loves very much
But her children more than that
Wherever there be family
That’s where she would be at
And how she loves to entertain
And cook delicious food
And always she will be a mother
In her heart will be her brood
9 August 2013 @ 2000hrs.
I do not know?
The Blue Rose
upon a Hill of Heathers
seldom do know
Songs speak of its
but few have lived to see
its rich blood blue petals
smells of sweet ginger and honey
The legend has it
the blue rose can cure
a thousand different ailments
although, I am not
My Grandmother told me
if you eat three petals
before you sleep
the disease which
infects, out of you
it will seep
Not many have heard
the powers of the
for it secretly grows
I remember the smiles
From a thousand miles,
The crowd that gathered,
The smiling baby to be fathered,
The blessings made,
That their hopes do not fade,
I heard the general chorus,
The strength, the happiness, the force.
But a different group,
Came in a huge troop,
All, new faces of a different birth,
To witness a fallen strength.
At the age of twenty two I gave birth to my first child to survive. A beautiful
and flawless daughter with dark brown eyes and hair like mine. When she turned five years
of age warts began to grow on her hands. My daughter cried with eyes looking to me for the
answer. The same eyes that looked up at The Healer Ms Agnes who cast away my warts so
As with me, Traditional Medicine did not work and Ms Agnes and my Grandmother were long
dead. Grandmother taught me how to use the herbs to heal when I was so young.
Remembering getting rid of warts was a BIG job made me take pause. If Grandma
couldn't get the job done who was I to think that I somehow could. I stubbornly tried all
Grandma had taught me, but only in vain. How my heart ached for the knowledge and power
of The Healer Ms Agnes.
Such fretful sleeps did come as I felt hopeless for the answer to my daughters plight. And
then it happened one calm and starry night. A deep sleep finally came so strong over me.
While sleeping, right before me came a vision of The Healer Ms Agnes. The very next
morning I awoke with an idea of something new to try.
With a calm and soothing voice I sat my daughter down. I took her precious little hands in
mine. Gently I touched and counted all the scaly knobs I could find. All the memories came
flowing back and the story I began to recant. I closed my eyes and for the first time spoke
about how my warts were taken away I felt a little detached as I recalled each
detail I could to conjure up the Spirit of The Healer Ms Agnes.
When I opened mine and met my daughters awestruck eyes her hands were still in mine.
As I gave them a gentle squeeze I said " Maybe. Just maybe there's enough of the Spirit of
The Healer Ms Agnes left in there for you too. A question came to the edge of my mind.
What if The Healer Spirit spell is reversed? It could be my curse for meddling with The Spirits
That Be. The answer came as quick as a spark. I would gladly wear mine again if it meant
my daughter' would not.
On the fourth morning after that day my daughter awoke me with such a scream. I rushed
to her bedside to see what was the matter. Lo and behold there among the bedsheets were
the remains of her warts. Dumbfounded and bewildered I was left with no comprehension
and speechless while I embraced my daughter with congratulations. As I took my leave out
of her sight I slowly stretched out my hands to see if my warts had returned. I mused aloud
when I saw they had not.
Continued in Part IV....
Eyes on me,
In my direction?
Can't they look somewhere else?
Discomfart rises, too.
Afraid to mess up,
Afraid to fail.
Eyes are on me.
I feel pale.
I don't want
Hush now, listen, that sound above the clouds.
Is it in your minds own eye or is it from the winter crowds?
They tease us as they make there way,
frosted windy dark and grey.
This sound I hear is one I taste, I smell the air and see the day.
My feet are bare, they sense the mirth,
it belongs to them, this enchanting earth.
I dare not tread too deep or tear,
for it might break this spell I fear.
Walking forth inside this dream, with weathered feet and legs so lame,
it is as if I fell in love, again again to this fine dame.
The leaves they drip from the sun they kiss,
the moist embrace of drops are bliss.
I look above too catch the sound of summers perfect song,
hail to you thy song is pure, your love is true, I cant be wrong !
Hands stretched out as if to reach I shake this dormend man,
so here you are, for you once more, she's done the best she can.
So quick so fast your soul will know,
jump the shrub and enjoy the show.
There they are for one and all, ocean sky, earth and rock,
they lay aside there different days and never dare to mock.
Forget it not for this is true,
this home's alive for me and you.
Her salient wings glowed;
With love she cradled wild world,
All rested in peace.
stammered, “Because, if Brian ran away, I saw him earlier today, downtown! And
he bought me an ice cream cone! And we talked and were even laughing at a joke
I’d just told! He was all dressed up and I asked him where he was going all
dressed up on a Saturday. He just laughed and said that, he was on an errand and
he was going back home. He said that he would see me later. Then I said that I
would come by to tell him about the trip. We said good bye and he walked away!
Papa’s face turned to stone as he starred in silence, and poor Thomas just stood in
that spot like a statute. My oldest sister or someone asked him what kind of
clothing Brian was wearing. He answered that Brian was wearing a grey suit, white
shirt and a burgundy bow tie! He described the outfit down to the shoes Brian
wore. With that said, Papa, wide-eyed called was rising out of his chair in slow
motion as he called out to Mama to come and hear this. Slowly, his tall frame stood
in silence. Those were the exact clothes that Brian was buried in. There is no way
Thomas could have known what kind of clothing Brian had been buried in because;
his parents weren’t at home when he returned from camp. He had returned much
earlier than was expected. He didn’t unpack his bags, being in a hurry to get to the
store downtown as they closed early on Saturdays. After, he would go and visit
Brian to share about the trip. Brian’s burial clothes were all new and made by the
local tailor! Thomas ran out of the house and my Father ran after him. The grieving
had begun all over again. We never did see our dog, Blackie again. The following
year we moved away. I am grateful for memories because even though my brother
Brian died long ago, I still remember his handsome face, even his voice, the way he
walked, his beautiful smile, and the many times he would carry me up on his
shoulders to safety in escaping from an abusive uncle.
Next time I see my brother Brian, we will be together again, this time forever.
Once great always great I say to you.
Upside down or right side up you be.
Once upon a time and a time once was she.
Gathering the universe and shining a Star or two.
Then one day She shot down to Earth out of the blue.
She gathered Her crops and made circles wide and free.
She made them so big the whole of the world could see.
She took the Stars the Sun and Moon making them new.
She shined talents never quite seen.
Amazing and sparkling from up above,
She is the smartest thing ever so keen.
She is abundant in spreading Her love.
She is our Celestial Mother in Heaven,
Separated by the empty shells of leaven!
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2007
Behind the mirror, the man is seen
Where on our streets surrounded, Friends
Thousands met cold, untimely death
With screamed echoes of souls unrest
Bullets flied, guns blasted ceaselessly
Children dead in their mothers’ arms
Father, for his lost son searched
Found him only, with parts cut in shreds.
Behind the mirror, was the man there?
Our Young children, to soldiers turned
Educated only in field of war
Guns carried, bigger than they can bear
Faught battles, of no cause but fear
To read or write, they dared not do
But to shoot or kill, well informed they were.
The man behind the mirror, how did he rest?
Our babies, dead while he sound slept
In his glorious, paradise mirror he kept
Still offered nothing, but violence more
Promised, inflicted upon innocents, murder
If anyone dared open their mouths to speak
Or, if orders came of his seat to render.
Behind that mirror, my freedom he took
Our homes Burned; our stores looted
Citizens, chased out of a land to love
Forced into exile for years so many
Adapted to a culture so not ours
From scratch, we started to build
Until bit by bit, we rose so high above
Like an eagle, up up and away.
The man behind the mirror, for him I always blame
The color so dark, on our backs stained
Bruises so deep, forever left to heal
Visions of his bloody watch, repeatedly, us plagued
Flashbacks of dear ones loved, Snatched,
And palmed away by cruel, hateful death
With tumbled bodies over bodies
All soiled up into one tiny hole.
Behind that mirror, the man will always be
With blissful look in his red, budging eyes
Wishing evil gleefully, with a dark smile
His laughter,joy, through my anguish I see
My heart beats fast, like a thunder sound
And the more my hate for him increase
Oh how I wish, that mirror came crashing down
Then, a taste of his own medicine, he shall get
I was beautifully designed
and wonderfully made…
There’s nothing that God has given
to me that I would ever trade!
I was fashioned and created by God…
With one thing in mind.
To be an image of HIM…
In a body by his design!
He fashioned and formed me
with the dust of the ground...
He gave me his love.
It ‘s all around!
Though there are imperfections
and “inflictions” within…
God is patient and willing
to forgive my every sin!
Through life… I’ll endure trials,
heartache and despair...
God is with me...
He’s always there!
I know that his son, Jesus…
Has given me his grace.
He has provided for my life…
“A resting place…”
I’m going to serve this God…
Whom I love so much!
How I long for his presence…
His “special touch…”
Thank you God... For a “new” person
you’re helping me to be!
And may your light continue to shine
through people like me!
By Jim Pemberton
When I'm going through a discouraging time... This poem reminds me of how special that I am to God!
A terrible earthquake rocked
Bidding adieu left us shocked
Rescuers worked on the third day
Looking exhausted and in dismay
Suddenly mixed feelings filled the air
When they lifted two up the metal stair
Shielded from the falling fragments
Embraced and protected within a mother’s garment
Wrapped in a carcass that offered comfort
A live six month-old baby girl put her effort
She moved having been suckled on that fateful day
By her mother who had entered the unknown gateway
Only this could have crammed her mind
Let me die so that they could find
My child alive; my child must live
So, she breast-fed until alive
One could compare her love to a mystery
Her life after death is but history
Tears trickle from stony hearts
Also from those carrying debris in their carts
Like a mother longing to hug her child
Our Creator waits to embrace us His child
He can pick us up from any rubble
And in us can make joy bubble
I do not know?
Fogive me Mother, I have not forgotten your grace,
That saved me with your celestial light from the dark,
I still stand ready to walk one day in your place,
Still ready for the training I will need before this path I embark,
The rain still decends and with the worlds tears, it cleanses my soul,
I pray for it to come, chant to you my song, and wonder why it will not fall,
The earth still shares with me, and I learn from all that it knows,
If only dearest Goddess you would listen to my calls,
Dearest mother, after which I am named, do not take from me your gifts,
The war readys near and you have not time enough, to find a new leader for us,
I still walk your path as your namesake, Ma'mam I swear, I have not forgotten this,
Without your guidence I am lost and in distress,
Show me forgiveness, oh my dearest Mother that I bless...
Forgive me my father, I have not forgotten your warmth,
That gave me life, through your brilliant light,
And saved me from the dead, cold dark,
I still stand ready, as your child warrior of white,
The wind still whispers to me ancient tales,
I pray for the dreams and yet I cannot tell why they wont retain,
The fire still burns bright within the sky, and I follow its ember trails,
Dearest God, without your guidence I will fall in pain,
Oh Father, do not steal your visions from me,
Without them I cannot see, and my Guides and I cannot talk and agree,
We send to thee, oh Father, an offering of sweet petal potpourri,
Do not revoke me for I am one of those chosen three,
Show me forgiveness, oh my dearest Father, and I shall act as your emcee...
The soldier, the war, and I
Today I am home and thinking to my self..
What would I be doing if I had a soldier coming home to me and my family?
What would I be doing if I was the soldier looking to going home to my family?
And then, I look back at all the years passed since this last war..
Many children have grown to become men, Others have grown to become soldiers
Where would I be if I had gone to the war and fought for my country?
Where would I be if I had gone and came back safely?
Where would I be if I had not gone at all because I was not qualified to go?
Would I be with my family or in a hospital injured?
Would I be standing proud, and laughing with my friends and family?
Or would I be dead, as I never got to come back?
Today I am home and thinking to myself..
Thinking of all of those brave soldiers, children still
Who are out there, suffering.. And some ill
Today I am home and thinking to myself..
How many woman are crying because of their gone loved ones
How many men are crying for their loved and missed ones
How many children are fatherless or motherless, or both!
And at the end I stop. I think no more..
I am grateful for the things I have,
I am grateful for the people who surround me...
And I am sure grateful to never have gone to a war; yet,
I sure appreciate the thoughts, courage, life, and suffering
Of all of those who have been touched by it.
Wherever I go through out my whole life,
I end up struggling with lots of strife.
Thinking that my life is a total waste,
Wanting it to be over in a haste.
I can feel the pain inside my own heart,
Like someone through at my a deadly dart.
The wound is easing deeper and deeper,
Will the pain ever stop getting bigger?
Feeling emo is never a good thing,
Cutting your arm makes a really bad sting.
Blood is dripping from my arms and my heart,
Failing to dodge the largest deadly dart.
Drowning in all the lies and self pity,
I live each day but always feel sh*tty.
I have lots of thoughts about suicide,
But then I think about those who have died.
Those who have died not just from suicide,
But also those who are really nice guys.
...This "poem" was actually suppose to be a couplet (on any thing you want) for my english
class but i made this kind bcuz i was feeling emo that day...and also after i was done i read it
over and it almost sound like a rap song which, i guess, is kinda funny and cool.........
I’m So Very Thankful…
I’m so thankful for everything the Lord has made...
Everything he’s created… His beauty is displayed!
I’m so thankful for the breath I have to breathe…
Until that one day, from this earth, I shall leave.
I’m so thankful for the way God has made so evident.
The principles of his word… Are so relevant!
I’m so thankful for the beauty and glory he’s shown…
It has brought blessings and healing to my home!
I’m so thankful for the many things he’s done for me…
He’s given me his love which flows abundantly!
I’m so thankful that each day,.. Is another to live for him…
He’s taken away my pain and has forgiven every sin.
I’m so thankful that I can write
these words from my heart.
I know that he’s with me. And he’ll never depart!
I’m so thankful that you’re reading
what I’ve been saying…
May this cause you to once again start praying!
I pray that this same Jesus I know…
Who’s merciful and kind…
Will speak words of hope to you
and give you a peace of mind.
I pray that before you go to bed and this day has ended.
You’ll allow Christ to have your heart “amended.”
Thank you Lord! For what you’ve
done and are going to do…
It’s another way that I can say
“I LOVE YOU!”
Thank you Lord! For all that I‘ve
received and so much more…
You’ve made my life complete…
And are worth living for!
Stillborn static cry
Smothered screeching granite knife
Crimson chalk demise
After the interview;
Each rider and horse,
move it off, all too quickly.
My head how it spins, around it.
As it works each day, with such beautiful hands.
None known here, can refuse it.
Here in this factory, they own it.
It are they, as they hang down, each cloud
and dawn like dew, each tip, now dripps with it.
What has it done.
What should it do.
Roles reversed, would you.
i look they say, like it.
I frown they laugh and i smile at it.
Upside down, they are all I see, and it's full with it.
They all watch it, as none can slip by it.
Explaining and swirling about, as it utters.
Looking at it, most like they, start to work.
One says it's simple mechanical, it's poetry.
Fore their arms are off and their aft of it.
All just because, they make cream from it.
Factory chatter is loud and the clamor it grows
as each machine moves,
up and down, outside all around it.
The bottles once clear, are warm when they're filled,
and the milk comes out, quickly through it.
They try Calming it down, as too many hang
and around it, are those hands that confess it.
Each cow, you now know, has it's very own name,
and as Betsy stands there, don't confuse it
Is It Poetry
I can remember every time
I've watched the sun rise.
Each time so much
different from the last.
The awakening of the world,
the pulse of it all,
always the same.
I can feel the rumble of her heart
beat right through me.
Oh how I cherish
these moments of peace.
Its your Halloween rave, having your mascaraed
With all your best friends from back in the day
Liz Lauren and Blake and while they're dressed like skanks
I'm on the front line of battle
Howlin like jackle with A real nasty cackle
puttin a razor blade in the sack of Blake's apples
crack in Lauren's snapple
Staddle Liz like mclovin
But I am more like faghole As I babble at her ass
Axe her fast and mash her up like cattle
Sneak back and tackle your dad and put him in shackles
Shove sour patch kids Down your trap and gaggle
Its abominable, so unbelievable
But its inevitable, the end is kissable
I have rattled these kids psyches
squirming like a centipede, cutting them like celery
hear their squeamish screams echo in the streets
as the creepy bells of the chapel ring
I remain a mystery
You'll need nancy drew, and at least 3 of the hardee boys to find what I'm up to
Theres this gloom that looms down in your basement room
Consuming shrooms, enhaling fumes to escape your doom
Witches zoomin by on their brooms makin sonic booms
Quick call scooby doo, but I killed him too
You heard a loud pound cause I cut the fuse so you
Run away to a motel room, assuming your safe
And As you look the other way,
I got my fangs in your veins and stranglin your neck
Too bad you didn't text your friends to tell them who is next
Hmm let me think for a sec. As Hex your boy rex
with an incessant twitch, till he is dead in a ditch
Hang him from bunny man bridge
Yo dude turn the lights on
But there's no flip to switch , I have flipped the script
Its bewitched with no miss to kiss
Exorcist with no priest to dismiss the spirit
So the town clock strikes half past 3
There's one last gas before i must sleep
Or i will crash fast if the light touches me
Put on the mask jack, just like the sixth scream
I need to grasp havoc, till i hear shrills and shrieks
Please back rabbit, these chills aint for teens
As I stick a cherry bomb in your moms exhaust pipe
Run up on you with nine a knife, and the head of your wife
Its useless I'm the nuisance that's abusive yet conducive
To your fear that I am near So close I could whisper in your ear
Smell the shampoo in your hair Wipe the floor with your tears
And as you look up in the mirror
I'm there ready to smear your blood all over the chair
as I stab you with my spear I crush a coors beer then
Leave you re crops there dead, red spread on the floor
But I hear a knock on the door
Are you okay honey? "Yes mommy, just got a cold sore"
WHEN CURSE FLOWS
Oil! cursed prosperity
That tar of riches
Glitters but not gold
A curse no the Niger Ogoni Land
A blessing to the Arabiyya
But they fight for it
Killings us for it
Not us alone, but all
The glorious land cries too
From its leaking throats
As it wears the black mask
Its daughters and sons choked
War, cheating and hunger
All as thanks from its prospects
Oh mother Ghana, coast of gold
Before the tankers arrive
When they do, just one thing
The blessings all away to wonderland T
he riches to heavens of theirs
Beware mother of mine.