Just spreading the trending of your thread
 

I figured I'd just make a new thread, because I plan on posting/working on lyrics or rhymes (or poetry) daily, and facebook & tulblr became dumb places to post em. I heard once you post something here, you own it. Is that true?

I want responses to all my posted lyrics/poems; whether they be editing & making things flow better musically, or replies to what I post.



First post (wrote it tonight) goes like this:


Came to
a reason to be with you, hoe;
stickin like rubber and glue…
bouncin and trouncin;
and, announcing the flow:
to those that had no clue
that its a fun show…
the one that our crew:
might be pooin while we do.

Its all a dope ride.
We all subside
in the same tide
that may be hitten
the side of the guide
that you eyed:
and cried to
to rescue you.

I hope you ain't sittin
fo dat fat splat
of what I spat
as the universe:
on your door mat.
Just say a verse;
but don't rehearse.


Copywrite isn't copyright blah blah blah you suck at naming dates and times

~theMuzzl3

Stay Asleep
 

Incredible:
indescribable
sentences
that form nothing
from something.
Yet in your returning,
you strive for some thing
truly called brain washing;
and while you're sanely cashing
that old check you earned,
you're alive as a king in training.
Who is be scalding?
That immovable force
burned you towards diving
forward to a stained subscribing
of a turned course
of what you're told.

Copywrite isn't copyright blah blah blah you suck at naming dates and times

~theMuzzl3

most of my posts are works in progress, I'm just some random dude that used to blog crazy shit and is now putting together rhymes that are in my head; and using google so that I can afford to not be froogle with my useful words. Ahem, Useless.

Comes down to one thing, foo:
Cha-ching!
Puttin down the brew.
As God sounds:

noise session.

Are you (yeah all of you),
being as one being?
Seeing: us screaming as a crew?
If not, find how you do
what we ring you to do.
Let me give you a clue:
it is your que.

Escuse me, Dr. Drew,
Are you all in?
If so, don't even be playin.
This ain't no array of sunshine
that time will spin;
it'll come some day,
when we be praying.
Fuck, dude,
its today; so shine.
What comes to mind:
is what I'm saying:
Blame the hatin
statin of creation
on no foo
who's me and you.

How does stuff get infected?
How affected are you?
How has the crap crept:
into, and effected our foods?
When does shit get injected:
to cure the one thing?
One thing?
How about the flu?
Swine flu zombified you?
I ain't got no clue:
what I'm saying, dude.
So start actin rude,
and make me a rood.

Sick and tired.
Of bein sick and tired?
How about bein wired:
up to be admired…
as a son;
one, and done.

Who decided?
And, who collected?

Why decipher?
Why be the exciter?
Excite her?
And, exit slightly,
as per her lively
request to be tightly:
nicely shiny; and slightly slimy...
and spiky.

Who is just speculating?
Who is calculating the judgement of all?
Who is judging, at all?
Why not: us all?
When would we be:
barking up the right tree?
And, who is amused by the constant show
of you and me failing to be the equivalent
of you; be seein, and seein the sin.
Who watches the movie of your life when you be dyin?
Who observes your best flow?
Do you decide on whats likely, then?
Who places wages, and bets to win?

Do you give yourself to God's will?
And let him be educatin:
the twill of your spilt hill
Of the low, and the Tao…
exposed like a grill,
filled with silver (or gold)…
depending on your will.

Don't speculate,
nor hesitate.
When we're seven,
we'll equal eight.
Don't date,
nor masturbate.
When we find heaven,
We accept our fait.


Copywrite isn't copyright blah blah blah you suck at naming dates and times

~theMuzzl3

I read less
and enjoy more.
I'm not obsessed
with the dress
you bought at the store.
Who sought out more?
My rhymes are like
dimes turned into pennies.
Run away with me,
and forget the hemp seeds.
Escape the sunny
times, the many:
and blame me
for the rainy season,
as I retreat
to being a tree, son.
Its crazy,
how so many flows
are funny;
and the beat goes and goes…
till you loose your sunglasses,
and join the masses
that you adore.
Don't stick for your score;
stick up for
your mirror image,
thats on the floor.
Open that door,
and I will roar:
no more.

Copywrite isn't copyright blah blah blah you suck at naming dates and times

~theMuzzl3

< i assure readers that i have only this one I.D. here. pharaohsarmy52.

@Zen @Certain @El Pancake

wtf?negged

alright but seriously Muzzle,
daily rhymes are one thing. but let's keep in mind that (and you yourself know this) FB and tumblr are certainly appropriate for some of them. the "knick-knacks", if you will.

now based on what appears to be some quick, straightforward rhyming on your part, i can tell that you do in fact have some talents and ability. please try to focus in and hone it. then post the focused/honed (probably not daily), and you will get responses.

Thank you for the advice. I do have a list of poetry that I did years ago, that (some of) is actually pretty good. In those posts I was basically trying to free flow; but I will definitely minimize it to a smaller, more specific and significant list of words. I really don't know how to rap.... I just had stupid shit in my head and tried to rhyme. I got music to write, so maybe some of the stuff I put together in lyrics will go into that.

was that a compliment?

some of this is actually pretty cool and a little comedic... unlike the faggle denizens of netcees you do things differently

Really more of "looking for a laugh". Not a direct compliment.

But in a way, yes, absolutely it could be taken as a compliment.

I'll try to implement comedy for all you netcees,
as trash talking basically is admitting defeat.
Strut all the way, its best;
damnit, don't salute me,
not one bit, should we wake
and stomp on gentlemen
who recommend
completely fakin
the stakes that we're saying.

Say it again?
Cum of his sister
is practically a pool
of a little epidemic:
a strike against the citizens.

The thing thats funny:
Is I'm not the first em cee
to use google
synonymously with
the deal that half way gaffels
our unanimously,
predictably rath of bombarding
the straight mind
with a little bit of cool drool.
And, half of our rent
is already spent, or
is paid by the stool
that I laid down,
as a fool.

Copywrite isn't copyright blah blah blah you suck at naming dates and times

~theMuzzl3

Hello, @theMuzzl3

This is Netcees. Feel free to post in Discussion (we have some srs lols here!), set up some battles in the Battle Arena, or post a written text rap in Open Mic. We're also running the greatest text battle league on the net called the Netcees Battle League. Join in; but expect a tough learning curve. A few losses will be a given, but you'll learn. We're glad to see you signed up for this site; new faces are always welcome.

Sadly, we have some official formalities to go through before you can start posting here. See, the Netcees website was overrun by Spambots about a year ago. We barely survived. As a safeguard against a possible SpamGate 2.0 we require every new user to post a picture and a 500 word paragraph as to why they love hip hop. You can send the picture and essay to one of the admins here (Pancake, Certain, Allen Knight, Sharp Nine, namix) if you don't want people to see your picture online. Perfectly reasonable. If you need some time for the essay that's fine but please post or send the picture as soon as possible so we can unlock all of your posting privileges. Thanks again for signing up, mic s, we hope you enjoy your stay!

- Netcees Administrative Staff

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Sent my 500 word essay! Thanks.

Is ur avy a hand drawn sketch of @Genocide ? Lmao

http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/solute

welcome

Thanks! I am horrible at spelling... but I learned a new word!

This one isn't rap, just poetry
 

Where is my owner's manual?

My owner's manual is what I'm looking for.
It is what I'm asking for.
Its what I must call for.
It is what I must grope for.
My owner's manual is what I must cry for.
If I can't find it, I'll be done for.
It isn't here, heretofore.
I must find it before I become more sore.
I keep looking for a reason for pleasing them, even when its still the end.
I just want them to take for the gore and horrors that they must pay for.
They should keep in mind what they must account for.
Can you give me what God would send?
Can you mend my heart, which is an open sore?
I could stand for the pain to end.
Please lead me towards the fore of the ship, that points me towards where I will find it.

Can I find it at the store?
Can I find it on the dance floor?
Is it under the stage floor?
Will it be set ashore?
Would it drop in with winds from inshore?
Can I find it offshore?
Can it be found on the sea floor?
Is it on the first floor?
How about the second floor?
Would it be a parquet floor?
Is it hidden in the decor?
Could I find it in the press corps?
Can I see it in musical scores?

I need my owner's manual to tell me what I must go for.
Its got to tell me what to fall for.
I've got to know what I should care for.
Could it show me what I should stand for?
It must tell me what I've been called for.
I'd like it to tell me what to look for.
It has to tell me what I've been sent for.
It must tell me what to shoot for.

Take four:
Could I get it off of the girl next door?
Can it be found by the side door or the front door?
How about the back door?
Can I find it out the car door?
In the barn door?
Do I even want to open the door?
Or is it already an open door?
Is it a half door?
How about a sliding door?
Would it be a screen door?

Does it mean we should prepare for a war, or rise up in antiwar?
Do we want to go to war?
Will we find it, postwar?

Oh fuck it, I don't care any more.
What am I speaking for?
I'm done for.
No more, should I want to find my owner's manual.
What For?
What For You?
I don't have an answer for you.
Hold still for; and allow for me to roar, as I slip it in, some more.
Hardcore, baby, and you'll want more.

You don't even really know the score, nor can you see the score board.
Therefore, you're always going to want some more.
Don't hoard; make sure you got yours, but toss out some more for your people to adore.
Make sure you put yourself first, but feel sorry for your War on others.
Provide for yourself, but live to adore the one who's yours.
You've got my heart inside your drawer.
I feel your core poor through your pores.
Little Mrs.- grab your senor and take what's yours, before the doors are no more readily galore.
You've got to know that your going to love me more.

More and more, I implore you to quest for running for the door.
Take advice from your seniors.
Set your goals for more than what God sent you for.
I deplore you to ignore my cry for what is more than just your adorable lips.
Feel for it, and get a grip on it.
I've got to underscore that what yours is mine, and what's mine is yours.
I call for you to take the floor, and keep in mind that you'll cover for the next in line.
Come in for me, and cry out for what comes before your simple life of chores.
Once more, I'll call you out to run for the dance floor, where you may find what you're looking for.
My heart is yours.

I speak for all of us.
I'm not the only one on this bus.
So go get some robitussin and suck it all in like its a petit four.