Netcees - Teenage Nipple Glue

Teenage Nipple Glue

(It is totally thine... but talent won’t win the battle.)

Courage the Cowardly Dog, the Golden Apple.
You may call it currency, its what you’ll get these travels.
The Large Chasm ‘tween diligent and victor
Would seem to stray you from questing recognition.
But still he Throws Lose Cents in to impress some “friends” with.

(Black ships before Toys. Because it was mine, everything’s fine.)

A rift separates the filigree from foliage only in the ultimate sense.
Egyptian priest races the hour glass with his skull in the fridge.
The tower’s latched, bolts eclipse what’s displayed as Mount Olympus.
The mold is artisan, the frozen hearth was lit when clay-men met the gymnast.
Who found a different cause and got a different effect.
Decided to be a dark horse to keep the bishop in check.
Who never made a stretch.
Seemed to always have enough butter and needed replacement bread.

(The basements molder, the fungi is scribed with texts.
The documents are divine, and the mildew is set to spread.)

When the poem meets the eye, hopefully it pries through muscle and the vertebrae into blood vessels.
Vexed over the verdict, might just purge the printer’s lesson,
If the urn is an intention, to be noted and accepted.

(Digital screen page Triple doom, throw away all your teenage dreams.)

Couldn’t perceive the turning tides, just chiseled Da Vincis out of limes.
Fizzled in me, burning fire; ‘twas stoked by undeserving eyes.
The threads of fame; I lurked behind.
The curtain blinds, the petty games, the serpent writer’s worthless vie.
The scourge disguised putrid clime.
An admixture of worms and slime.

(Business men drink my wine, plow men dig my earth, and none of them along the line know what any of it’s worth.)

He dwells inside the closed, refined realm of Titans, Open Mic.
The contestant-judges skimmed over lines.
The punk-ish punches, polar night.
My vision and stature rose with time,
but still I’ll never meet the ‘Cronus height.’
(And that’s fine, and that’s fine)

(Why would I die for some of television’s kind?)

(I wanna see my 5 bar battle set up 14 days in advance, so I can have time for perfection when I do the sun dance.)