Long Hop Poems
Long Hop Poems. Below are the most popular long Hop by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hop poems by poem length and keyword.
Written February 22, 2017
Motivation keeps us dream chasing
Those thoughts that you hold dear to your heart
Until the world falls apart from me missing you
These thoughts of you keep me holding onto
This abstract feeling called love
Now paint a pointillist on a rawhide canvas
On a Native American buffalo drum
But I digress to keep the beat going along
Keep it flowing to waterfalls where angels sing
A song to the siren, listen to her lull you to your last breath
So you thought this was an abstraction of love, not death
But you thought wrong 'cause they're one in the same
It's the name of game when the carousel goes round
Watch it go round, round, and round
A radial diametric where the angles bisect
To prototypes and concepts
From the concave to convex
Do you do it for the money and sex
Or for the only dreamers that we've got left
Yeah you know you've gotta give to receive
This abstract feeling called love
From far and wide.
To see the
Big Island Rattlers
Verses
The Desert Snears
Alot of planning
Across sport negotiations
Stuff to say in conversation
Nothing's ever been like
This before.
From riding someone's coattails
To individual dominance
Secure the worm
and cast the rod
there really jumping tonight
Tune the band
Rent the hall
We call this one
a humdinger
Say, did you see the beautiful
Smiling face
She think she's pick that right one
You know that special one let's
Just wait and see
Bayshore special
And a Desert Delight
Time for talking
Is whining low
The hype men
Getting a taste for crow
Tell everybody
Like I know
It's getting down
Tonight!
..... cus i aint got no mother plucking rap skills mucker,
I'm a poet shall I show it
rhyme the line combine and row it,
I'm a sick ink flicker
tips fidget like a widget
I'm a little bit prolific
that's a rap
so get with it
such a good chorus,
now feel the force of the fall as we move forward
cus I rap awful,
admittedly I havent got an ounce of pure ability
I'm the pit you see,
lips slip over lyrics like I'm tipsy
I link in, sync up like society and gypsy,
and I know what I sound like, yes I'm listening
while you sit there in your pants you just pissed in,
I miss the beat repeatedly
like a fall winter springs back to summer scorch
see it's fabulously written
I'm just crap with the rhythm,
raps a cat and I'm a gibbon
in a strap on with a ribbon,
I rap it for the hell of it,
accolade irrelevant
I'm heaven sent malevolent...….
I watch women leave with assorted bodies, bulky purses, proudly displaying their newly-done up rainbow hair, blue streak hair, purple yarn hair, six braid in a bush hair, beaded, feathered and flowered hair.
Everything goes here, and it makes me comfortable. Then I see a silly looking up-do with straggly ends floating across a face. My four-year-old grandson could have done this one in his sleep. I am incredulous as I watch the recipient leave happy.
A little guy is almost out of his chair, screaming and wailing “Let me out of here! You are hurting me! No! NO! I don’t like this! You are HURTING ME!” His screams are frightening now, I look up, ready to fight somebody. The hairdresser is having a tough time working around a grandma and a mama who are holding him in the chair by pinning arms and legs that are struggling as he screams.
When I got to my chair I noticed my stylist is cute, young, she will probably have some punky ideas. I like that! She washes me up, not finding a tick, which I think is a great start. As we talk she discovers I teach school. Her eyes bug out. “They let you teach with that color hair!” she spits out.
“I would like to see them try and stop me,” I fire back. I look in the mirror at my new Peter Pan haircut. I look like a boy, but at least most of the burgundy is still there. So much for generalizing how punky young can be.
Having everything .. ..having it all.... you lose track ....you need to look back......before you fall ..before you lose it all.......and have nothing ......nothing left at all
Humility and Humbility....common sense and sensibility......makes the person you are.....considering the outside ... point of view.....having versatility.....and social responsibility ...paying your dues...its up to you
Being understanding ..... reading between the lines .......separating truth from the lie.....looking at life through another's eye .....compromise and harmonize ...watch and see ... The look in thier eyes,and eventually you come tp ..... agree
Humility and Humbility....common sense and sensibility......makes the person you are.....considering the outside ... point of view....versatility.....and social responsibilityz...paying your dues....its up to you
Its knowing you are the same .....no matter how big ....you think... your part .....is in the game......... You can't win without losing..being modest ...is an art.....thinking of others with heart...that's a definate start
Humility and Humbility....common sense and sensibility......makes the person you are.....considering the outside ... point of view....versatility.....and social responsibilityz...paying your dues....its up to you
Lil mama in a Q50 infinity
Known to handle drama
Pulls up any vicinity
know a broad in a Amg
we hit the drive through theater
And we blow on trees
I know a hottie in a Beamer
She fiends for the d
Trying to have my baby
in a swooped up m3
Another shorty in a Tesla
Always smoking gas
Pulls up just to charge up
We loving in the back
Now I’m in a jag
This chick loves to brag
Ratchet ass hell
She ain’t got no class
Mama in a v dub
Fly mamasita
Use to be my dealer
Now she on flea
Cruising in a cooper
I’m with a fine cougar
Taught me a couple lessons
I call her my tutor
Freaky ass shorty in a
Honda accord
Open 24 she use to take me to store
If you see me in a corvette
You know she a war vet
Every time she pulls up
She meets me at my door step
I’m in a nine eleven
Clutching on her thighs
Mashing like the dash board
She texting with her man
Big body hellcat
But shorty was petite
Lets me take the steering wheel
While she gets in fleek
Lifted I’m in a tundra
A dike mutha lover
She pulls on all the females
I’m with her in the summer
Remember that commercial tool,
that fool Ja Rule.
The miniature 2Pac image imitator,
packaged and bought up but in no way similar.
Was Suge or the Illuminati really behind Pac's murder?
Suge, a dangerous man with many enemies,
while east and west were representing territories.
But Ja was a clone of Pac's identity,
now stop and think....
MURDER INC.
You see off the rival companies,
then you replicate what made them pennies.
It's not that Suge wasn't capable,
it's that someone else had more to gain from it all.
Pac was bigger than the whole of Bad Boy,
even with Biggie Pac was able to destroy.
And what gets put to market knowing it would sell,
Ja Rule and his crew, Murder Inc mocking us and well
hidden by the distraction of the stories and conspiracies
but the east coast killed Pac then benefitted financially.
And it says what it says when he went at 50 Cent,
after all Deathrow artists started a new label to be different.
Aftermath, with Dre and Shady became the main event,
once again the east coast was outdone and unable to prevent
being overshadowed and seen as less relevant.
The Game got signed in a shady way,
they made sure that the market would hear him play,
so I don't think it was Suge or the Illuminati,
when MURDER INC. is a name based on mockery.
Business leaders killed 2Pac,
they did it to be the leader of the pack.
The way the old lay,
weak, it's difficult to make out the words they say,
sometimes they speak nonsense and mumble away,
but somedays they are okay,
acting more like themselves from back in the day,
yet still with less than they once had,
and for them the best days have turned sad.
This is how I see hip hop now,
unrecognisable in it's current appearance,
transforming with age but yet somehow,
a small few prevent its total disappearance.
The lesser artist of yesteryears old skool,
would rule today over the best artists of the new school,
'cus todays artists are refused by all,
their rubbish has become the usual,
and rubbish is being kind, it's ear abuse and awful.
Even if the bar went up to high,
there is no excuse for the lack of good songs they provide,
I'd long for a new Red and Meth to buy,
and I don't care for the Eminem vs 2Pac divide,
I listen to both 'cus otherwise I'd be denied.
Rappers used to open the hole in their face,
they didn't sound like their jaw was tied by a brace,
you could hear the words regardless of the pace,
they never used languages found in outer space.
Today it's a disgrace, stumbling along in Arabic,
and grunting like some sort of dying asthmatic,
there's no talent here just a bunch of spastics,
and it's tragic how the whole song stack lacks a classic.
Rap used to be about verbal accounts,
rap was about the way words were pronounced,
then out pounced murmuring sounds of toddler playgrounds
and this bulls.... mumble was found.
Using commercial beats made to tap feet,
so you don't hear the retard trying to speak,
shouting out in anger all big and bad,
which I get 'cus if I couldn't talk I'd be mad.
Old skool rappers on crack,
have verbal skills that new school rappers lack.
This mumble is pitifully weak at the peak,
dipsticks with dick lipstick forging a beat.
So has hip hop died, hmmm
not yet, but it seems destined in time.
If I were a bird love would be my wings
My flock would be of hip hop
Allow me to cruise sky blue white streams
Without fear of flying treetops
And oh the blackbird songs I prophetically sing
Would I sing just as lovers do
Mating season is never in winter time
Yet frostbitten love warms a fool
Romantic rendezvous red as fine wine
Love peaks primes we win and lose
If I was a cave would you explore
All my dark places to find peace
Would you have amber hope for
Love inside of both of us deep
What do you dream of amour
If I was a dream I would be odd
Feverish romantic and enchanting
I would feel like holy love of God
With all souls delighted dancing
We would see the heavens and stars
Alas I am but a human poet
Using my heart as a green vase
If I didn’t say would you know it
Love is my garden and faith
plants the seeds of eternity hope is
I write like bakers bake
my rhymes make earth shake
Going into contest with me was your biggest mistake
I control the earths plates, tectonics, your rhymes are bollocks
I cause land slides and earthquakes
I don't hate but I do devastate,
Is the rhythm of your rhyme hidden?
I'm going back and forth with my decision
I'd like to think it's something I'm missin'
but I cant see it in what you've written,
You stagnate rhymes
I contemplate the punishment for these crimes,
don't harp that you'll defeat me
I'm a giant you can't even see me
Now back and forth like red and meth I hand you over to little missy,
you pissed us both off so we share a rhyme to make you look silly..........
Your rhymes don't even matter
my pockets is gettin' fatter
Yours getting flatter
When you heard the glass shatter
That means me and my homies gathered
Now you bout to feel the wrath of
Somethin' that you wished you hadn't of
And all I can say is back up because I'm bout to act up
It might not concern you but
I'll thermonuclear burn you, you're a human sacrifice
Cuz I be smashing mics with the Passion of Christ and
Stay fully loaded, equipped with action devices
Me n trim shady here to party like Tom Brady
We stay cooler than an Eskimo baby
V is for Victory, we mastered your trickery
Tryna clock like dickory, get smoked like hickory
So please stop the bickery, you can't get rid of me
Fire colabs from here to infinity
you heard her infinity
even with a radar and map you cant find our reality
we're in another galaxy
you've barely the ability of a fetus
how dare you compete with us
and this U S U K special relationship isn't putting you at a handicap
it's natures act, you can't rhyme or rap
put your dick between your legs and make a tail
walk away with your head down cus your insults fail,
the only insult that landed is that you went up against us
with terrible stale dribble
that you squiggle
all brainless and minimal
like an unevolved mammal
writing without the opposable thumb by miracle
sounding dumb and undesirable,
when I read it I became miserable,
I desire a quick fire high flyer
like me with quick wit that aspires but you were dire
and dim, you aint no Trim,
you're a fool who should return to school.
collaboration with Brenda Chiri
first and third Trim
second Brenda