[Sinacog]

Evil looms of a tyrant, rumored throughout history as clues of a titan..
'cruel as it's violence pursuing this life and piercing moons with a silence',
haunting whispers deafen sounds in depths of a nether dimension
'sharper than water, more silent than air and spread through every ascension
be it thy deadliest message it comes stalking every death that it beckons,
one swing of his scythe bellows blistering sighs vexed with a vengeance,
'tis the black maw of hexes embellished with hellish elements of malevolence;
turn a regiment to excrement in tourniquets' merciless' deception's testaments;
put the world in detriments with my mind that is desolate spewing pestilence,
blood'll leak through your pours as you feel grue, turned blue; fueling an exodus,
gifts that're demonically inclined unearthing; stewing the fumes as an exorcist,
drew from its crevices... stains blanketing floors with sin and bewildering whims;
thou ecliptic doom be an arisen wound lay on a hilt of their kin;
chills in the wind lay siege; hate breeds; pining the kill of a king;
bound in the beginning; "o' heartless one.. the city of Tarsis' son",
bringer of death, the linger of heaven, hell and the Darkest sun,
from harlots and charlatans put in eternal slumber's artist dun -
to the chilled still of a witches tongue lay a grim hindered love,
wind's churn a withered curse; loosening grips of shivered burns;
those that have blamed plague made waste of their coveted omen,
loveless, ferocious; lusting and hopeless as a plummeting crow brinks,
foreshadowing logic; "non compos mentis"; being thee ominous retribution,
calm as I lessen illusions of lies fusing inside a crucifix of gruesome alignments;
awry with chaos, disorder, I crave God's adornments; A misplaced arch of lordship,
bellowing through ancient; seeping through every crack of pavement,
witness the sky fall ashes of cataclysm that ever-last evisceration,
silhouettes of my doppelganger's constantly follow you, all of you,
embedded within every one of your souls, driven 'till your call of truth,
you beckon thee among exit scenes, I now come as this pawn in rouge,
slaying every one faux in lieu of the throne, this is you who has chose,-
every sickly woe in the folds of eternity that emerges the queue of penumbra;
summoning every apparition's gloom, set forth wickedness; strew with it's comer,
you lay under my cover of night, storms churn for me as I am the drummer of blight,
cometh o' might which not even a God to attest thee; unleashing vortexes funneling light...
Death shall begin as I awaken bringing fires to rages, squires in faceless dismay,
ashes will be o' the coming of all beckoned courageous; decayed; for this place,
where rigor mortis be laid, rooted from the stems of history traced in the graves...

vs.

Are You Not Brave / Writing exercise / L.N.

~

Last night I had a crazy dream, not even half of it good though
I must preface by saying, I'm in love - don't worry, this is far from a Love Note
Lola Nash is her name, but back to the dream, a land of lakes and twisting brooks
An orphic place of Luring Numinous, from Lea's Neverending, to Labyrinthine Nooks
I was in the tavern, diffidently sipping mead from a faux-golden cup
Languishing Noticeably, when I was suddenly approached by the Local Nut
There this ogre stood with his oafish mug - gawking at me, saying squat
Then - a tremendous belch, I Laughed Noisily, coughed and gave him a Lazy Nod
He sat besides me ... "Listen Neighbor, might you part with any extra fairy-dust"?
This made me a Little Nervous, but the portly fellow couldn't be Less Nefarious
I untwisted a Lachrymiform Napkin, and gave him a pinch of effervescent matter
"Bless you Squire ... you ever heard of Lord Niflheim, the Legendary Necromancer?"
Tiring of this Leper's Natter, I was sure i'd run him through in a moment
Be it King, or Queen or Lonely Nomad, I don't have time for Ludicrous Notions
But when he produced a curious amulet, i felt compelled to let him finish
"Take a look" - so i did, 4 Lions, Necks stretched inside a Luminescent Nimbus
"Niflheim gave me this blessed trinket, alas, it can only be used by the brave"
"Hold it in a Butter-Cap Mushroom Patch, kneel, and speak Lucifers Name"
I asked, "but what will happen?" - then his jolly smile turned to blackest scorn
Glaring past that Long Nose, that boil-ridden snot-encrusted, Lurching Naricorn
"Are you not brave?" His voice was deep and smooth, it hit me like a sedative
"You should Leave Now" - he seemed less a friendly drunk, more a Lifelong Nemesis
"Oh I am, I'm going to the Butter-Cap Mushroom Patch, would Mister like to come?"
Suddenly the room was icy, misty, as though we were swimming in Liquid Nitrogen
But I could feel the panic rising, that caustic anxiety strumming my throat
"It's alright Squire, follow me" - again, his voice as soft as a Lullabye's Note
I did, it was hard to keep up; an odd sight this plump chap skipping swiftly
Through a forest thick and windy, till there they were, 50 mushrooms Lilting Nimbly
The air was bitter, filmy, I couldn't decide if it was scanty or venomous
I forced a breath anyway, then picked a mushroom from its Lacteous Nebula
It was like a Lingering Nightmare, like viewing the world through smokey glass
I said, "Let's Not do this" ... "But Squire, are you not in love with Lola Nash?"
My heart, it froze, collapsed, I'd so-far helmed my sanity: he capsized the vessel
I felt Limp, Naked, looked at my palm, no mushroom, instead the amulet Lightly Nestled
"Look No further than this - are you not brave? Then you must make the darkest vow"
"In Lucifers Name" - imbued with a shame so wretched, my stomach felt like Lava Now
I knelt, perhaps out of love, perhaps I just wanted this Hell to be finished
Oh ... who am i kidding? I spoke Lucifers Name because I'm a Lecherous Nitwit
Thunder and lightning, the violent roar of the forest ensued, I was helpless
Then i was whisked away through some refulgent conduit, some Luminous Nexus
I awoke abruptly, flustered, I hurdled over my duvet feeling desperate, awful
Later, Nontheless, after a few soporific classes, my day was Lenitive, Normal
But the dream was vivid still, i couldn't wait to get my love alone at last
After the bell rung, I Loitered Nervously, and then I saw her: Lola Nash
I said, with impeccable eloquence, "Sup bitch, how bout we get our freak on"
Her reply was simple but poignant, I think you'll agree: she said, "dream on"

I'm Through Playin Games With Homos...This Kid's The Same as "RUNAWAY BRIDE" Cuz Either Way, The "DAME" only gets "FAME FROM NOSHOWS"...!!!
Between All Your Forced Metaphors And You, Spitting Ignorant Things...Voters Could "READ BETWEEN THE LINES" N All They'll See Is "PICTURES N LINKS"...!!!
.
..
... Yall Really Thought I'd Be Rusty? Wigga Please
..
.
He Gets What He Deserves? Yo I'm Doubtin It Wigga...Gets Titles From Noshows Knowin "DICKRIDERS ARE BIRDS"...-Word?-...they "GO SOUTH FOR THE WINNER"...!!!
This Is The TURNING POINT Do The MATH It's CRITICAL...If He Cant See That He's Wack - He's got his "HEAD SO FAR UP HIS ASS" he makes "SNIFFIN CRACK" a "RITUAL"...!!!
I'll Uppercut Ya Fuckin Gut, Until I'm Beatin Ya Normal...With So Much Food In Ya Stomache, I'll Make Em "SPIT UP, TWICE" Like "BELIEMICS IN ORAL"...!!!
I'm CRACKIN DOWN On The Motherfucka...Faggot, I'll Actually Slash You...And You Best Believe That The "WHIP WONT STOP" Like "CABS FOR A BLACK DUDE"...!!!
This Is Too Easy For Me, I'll Take Em Out In A Sec...You Beatin Me?..."QUIT DREAMIN, D"...I'll "PINCH EM" And REALLY Give Dame His "REALITY CHECK"...!!!
And Now I'm Back With A Rap To Snuff You...Cause If He Really Wants To Try Me - He'll get "PUT ON BLAST" in "10 SECONDS"...like a "NASA SHUTTLE"...!!!
But On The Real, You Don't Wanna Get Checked, Dog...Fightin Me? You'll "PUT YOUR LIFE IN THE RING" And He Ain't Even "SONIC THE HEDGEHOG"...!!!
As Far As You Winnin?...Pfft...Quit Lyin, You Punk...You'd Have To Be "PLAYIN 'YOSELF" like "GAMES" of "STREETFIGHTER" with "ONE"...!!!
Am I Gonna Clown On Your Girl? Nah That's Not My Business...But All Of "OMAN IN A BATTLE" is like "YOU AND YUM's THREAD" - "A COMPETITION OF BITCHES"...!!!
Iunno Why He Calls Himself "Damien" It Doesn't Seem To Fit His Purpose...The Way He "NEVER GETS OFF HIS KNEES" he's more like "CHRISTIAN CHURCHES"...!!!
Who Wants To See A Fight? For Starters, Damnit...Dame'll Be LAID OUT ON HIS BACK More Than A "LICENSED CAR MECHANIC"...!!!
Watch How The Chips Stack Against Him, He'll Begin To Boil Up...By Tomorrow He'll Be 'FACED UP" in a "SUIT" like "REVEALIN A ROYAL FLUSH"...!!!
To Be Honest I Dont Think I Ever Seen Anyone Jocked Harder...Cuz You Got More "BITCHES KISSIN YA CHEEKS" than "BOB BARKER"...!!!
What's Real Fucked Up Is With All That Cellulite - Damn Man...I'd Imagine "KISSIN HIS ASS" would be like "MAKIN OUT WITH THE GRAND CANYON"...!!!
I'll Have Dame Frightened, Teeth Chompin, Scared Of A Nuisance...Drink Away The Pain N You'll Be "DRUNK'N KNEES(niece) KNOCKIN" Like REDNECK FAMILY REUNIONS...!!!
I'll Have Dame So Embarassed About The Fact That He Faced Me...He'll Be Trynna "COVER HIS HEAD"...???....but he's too "FAT to play "FREE SAFETY"...!!!
..
..
I Ain't Got Time To "School You" So After Class, Stay, Yo...Fuck that...If You're Smart You'd Just CUT DA-TENSION And Take Your Ass "STRAIGHT HOME"...!!!
But Seriously, No Metaphors - I Dont Need 15 Bars To Murk You...I'll Have His Ass "RUNNIN HOME BEFORE 11" Like He's Got A Fuckin "CURFEW"...!!!
.
..
...I Ain't Done Yet, I Love To Kick A Motherfucka While He's Down...Let's Get Personal
..
.
Who Runs Around Claimin No One On HF Has A Life?...That People Are Taking Shit To Heart, While Stayin Up Half The Night...Who Wrote A WHOLE Freeflow Cuz He Wasnt Getting His Props...Revealed Ghostwriting For People, Goin Claimin He's Hot...All For What? Mad, Cuz No One Liked You Before?...You'd Be Good For "GAMES" with "MILTON BRADLEY" - It's Safe To Say Your "LIFE'S on the "BOARD"...!!!
..
..
And If You Try To Come Around Actin Like A Thug Talkin Trash N Shit...I'll "PULL YA CARD" Faster Than A MOTHERFUCKIN MAGIC TRICK"...!!!
Shit, Ain't Scared Of A Blood On The Net - Fuck Words...He Can Try To "COME TO MY CRIB" and "SERVE ME" - I'll "MAKE HIM MY FUCKIN BUTLER"...!!!
You Fat Bitch, You Makin Me Look Like A Medium...Cuz Every Time He "STANDS UP" - "WE LAUGH" you should be a fuckin 'COMEDIAN"...!!!
Who's The Best Of The Best? Not You, I Got You Losin With Flare...Imagine Our Surprise When The "LAST MAN STANDING" - Loses" like it's "MUSICAL CHAIRS"...!!!
..
..
But Seriously How Many Times Have You Recycled Before?...Readin Dame's Verse Is Like A "PARODY THREAD" - Because "Everything You Have To Say" - I've "SEEN IT BEFORE"...!!!
Open Ya Ears Son, Cuz You Know I'm Here To Lyrically Rape You...Cuz Dissin Mine? Trust That I'ma "SKULLFUCK 'EM" with "STD'S Until He'll Be Stuck "HEARIN WITH AIDS, TOO"...!!! (Think About It)

vs.

LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE

[New Jessica Alba Sig / Jessica Alba / J.Alba Quick Thing]

Oh, the poor Gal Was Great Til Ye 'Shopped Away!! Stop- don't push Out A Tape & Collage Ya Name!!..
'cause Rapping Lame as your Graphics K? either way you won't drop an "Alba Making 'em Want To Bang"!!

[Nas Sig / Quick Biggie Smalls Signature]

Hey!

Jim Glockz Is Pretty Clean!! study his GFX before Pics Crop n' Sigs Drop which Diss Nas & Biggie Please!!
If Not? we'll see Ribs Popped With Sini's Teeth "tearing Kar' heart apart" like Rick Ross In Skinny Jeans!!-

'til we see "Car'cass & bone", like he Decided To Lose His Virginity!! ALAS. Vagina Refuses Him Instantly!!
such a Bitch- If We ask K Why you ain't in pussy? he'll reply, "False" while Applying A Lubricant Literally!!

Due to "irrelevant set-ups + schemes": any K Flip Or Punch Is A Downer & Clips're Bust At Him Outward!!
I'm gassin on Kar 'cause a Shell Gets 'Em Pumped- as the man decides to "Fill Err Up Within Counters"!!

[Filler Up With Encounters]

Arteries Stop As Fangs Sink In K Deep- 'til this "fruit Kar Been Ate" like Sparkling Squash & Grape Drinks!!
Start Wiki On This Page Link & They've Seen- the only Place We, can find that Kar Niggie's Topping J.P!!

Born under the rising sun, my father was a great warrior who protected the land,
until the black mass of darkness gave birth to a demon who burnt the core of Japan.
Aku was pure evil, creating monsters and tearing through villages like a tidal wave,
until my father took the magic sword and removed the oni with it's vital blade.
For decades, the world was calm and safe from fear of monstrosities or tribal plagues,
but when I was a boy, there was a voice from the shadows that called for the final days.
That's when Aku was reborn, and his army bathed the Earth with blood and tears,
life as we knew it was forced to hide as the light dwindled in floods of spears.
Mankind was given the option, slavery or death, as the sword was stolen,
my father worked in the mines where every breath was short and hopeless.
I travelled and studied weaponry from every continent on the planet,
from spears to scimitars to the bow and knives, I learned how to survive and manage,
I became an assassin, a monk, a ninja and a samurai, and spent two years stranded,
learned how to hunt and farm, while also practicing how to deal critical damage.
I roamed far, in boat and car, becoming the perfect opposition for Aku's forces,
and in doing so, my mind was corrupted with thoughts even he'd find morbid.
I tore his minions apart limb by limb all over the world, but NOT to save lives...
but because in my mind, the hatred I bared was becoming the essence I made light.
I wanted to break spines. To take knifes and aim them at the heart under strange eyes,
to shave time off fate's line for every demon Aku claimed from people's gravesites.
I wanted to smell blood, to smash bone, to hear screams and feel monsters die,
to watch as they coughed and whined until they lost the fight and could no longer cry.
My father begged me to change, said he felt the same way once but it wasn't right,
killing Aku wouldn't save mankind because there'll always be darkness for him to find.
It's hidden in the base of our chest, where love and sorrow intertwine,
and it's stretched by the stress of anger that craters and hollows in the night.
I wouldn't listen, driven by my mission to seek vengeance through,
smitten by the image of children drifting in an endless crimson pool.
I apologize, but I refuse to lose while the root of evil still consumes,
until I force the magic sword into the forehead of Aku.
.
.
.
.
I pluck the blade from the face of a mountain, based in the fountain of youth,
chained by the veins of a titan, a giant who once grounded the truth.
With this power, I head to the wasteland Aku calls home to deliver hope,
when I pierce his throat and carve him up like he's a wicker post.
Leaving a trail of disembodied demons as his legions attempt to stop me,
and any who survive will stare at sleepless skies as my presence is haunting.
I enter the volcano where he rests, ready to fight, I begin taunting,
as he rises from the depths, I slice his flesh with a strike that's daunting.
Surprised. He's realized the katana I wield holds his only weakness,
and changes his form to parry my attacks, but my technique is seamless.
Frustrated, he changes into a hydra, but I continue to leave the villain speechless,
my ability far outweighs his evil as he drops to his back in pieces.
As I grip the handle and prepare my killing blow, he spews a few beams of light,
and I'm transported into the future where Aku has turned the Earth into his plight.
I swear to fulfill my oath as a Samurai, from this day until my last...
I'll hunt Aku down till I collapse, or my name isn't Jack!

3055 A.E. (After Extinction)

"Entering the atmosphere, Captain!" Jones announces from the deck, nervous sweat dripping down his neck,
we've been space bound fifteen years, finally discovering a potential candidate to inhabit, I hope the ground is wet.
I miss the sound of rain, so fingers crossed for some residue that doesn't melt my suit, that would be pretty cool,
maybe a lake or ocean too, something that doesn't engulf the ship or produce creatures that'll try to eat my crew.


"Any news from The Revenue?"
"No, radio's cold, it seems we're alone."

"Don't worry, I'll get y'all home soon."

There's four of us. Two marines, a scientist and a medic. Mankind's where we left it, on a dying planet with no moon,
but honestly, my only guess is we step out onto the surface and the currents suck us into endlessness like a vacuum.
The doctor predicts otherwise, apparently, several drones have landed safely and photographed crisp skies,
our ship's built like a shield, no windows to look out, so we won't know until we open the door and risk life.



"Landing in five... four... three..."
"Here we go, drumroll please!"

"God, let us breathe..."

We land safely, thankfully, no noticeable pressure and I don't hear storms like on Mars,
so maybe we can add this planet to the charts and start to reproduce beyond the stars.
We suit up and prepare to open the hatch, "here's to oxygen instead of poisonous gas!"
I hit the button and all of a sudden, it's like I'm staring at a history hologram of grass.
There's flowers and butterflies, mountains hiding behind cotton clouds and whistling winds,
I begin to hear my men whispering when I get a hint of relief within my shivering skin.
It's everything we'd hoped for, crystal lakes and snow formed along the horizon,
we've been searching for a new beginning ever since Earth and a comet collided.
I always believed in our dreams and now it seems that belief was worth the time spent,
since day one, I knew there was something beyond the sun and that I'd find it.
"Let's explore a little bit, maybe we'll find something!" I smile and lead the expedition,
I listen as they share predictions, pondering the possibility of alternative dimensions.
Prepared for predatorily intentions, wondering what damage our weapons would inflict it,
what if we discover a beast and we can't kill it or can't even repent it? A suicide sentence.
"Hey, doc, that pack you have covers all conditions? Flesh wounds and toxic inflictions?"
"Yeah, we'll be fine as long as I'm alive!" He jests, but my chest suddenly feels compressed,
we arrive at a cave behind a waterfall, part of me screams to turn back to the point of stress.
Reaper tightens his vest, "I'll take nose incase this goes south into a monster's mouth..."
I ignore my doubts and let the others go first so I can cover the tail of our awkward route.
A chilly drought climbs up my spine, our flashlights barely reveal what waits ahead,
my weary awareness now a heavy dread, and my fears quickly replaced with red.
Claws like swords morph Jones into shredded meat, he's devoured before we can shriek,
it happens so fast we can hardly see what's ripping us apart in the brief glimpses unsheathed.
I can't read it's movements, Reaper unloads clips into dark tombs when I hear it scream,
something touches my feet, I aim my rifle and it's the doctor's head staring up at me.
"REAPER! THE EXIT! LET'S GO!" I begin running, dodging and weaving through tunnels,
my lungs imploding and expanding, every breath becoming more and more of a struggle.
The air is growing more demanding, the shadows causing delusions, adding to the trouble,
Reaper runs into me as we crash into a corner, the creature pulls him from the tussle.
I dive through the waterfall alone, my weapon ready as tears block my vision,
wishing I would've listened to my initial opinion, now my team is dead from my wrong decision.
I turn around to find my ship has been torn to pieces, and I lay here in the rain, cold...
the last hope for humanity, surrounded by demons, with no way home.

When I was twenty one, it was a very good year
It was a very good year for city girls who lived up the stair
With all that perfumed hair and it came undone
When I was twenty one

They said he had a frequency like some white noise that carried itself along
Buried in wealth, money couldn't buy happiness, he lived vicariously with song
Every stanza was a minúte movement, he likely wasn't good at expression
The highest notes captured him, the lowest notes understood his depression
On the brim of regression, his passive aggression attaches a lesson explained
As a passionate quest to answer the message, a rite of passage is a testament gained
No home - no family - simply, a vagabond with a softer soul and a subtle caution
From rubble, stones and bones broke, but nothing more important than the one he lost when...
...that mourning began - a collapsed lung from collapsed ceilings, shrill screams
The new soundtrack to his hardened shell, the muse of music now nothing, but still scenes
And so he thought of her, thinking from time to time that this riddle connects
Tears stream down the face of a man whose eyes dwindled down to a ripple effect
In giving respects, he mutters sweet nothings through a whispering breath
Just praying that the clock could wind back, without revisiting his vision of death
That mind like a prism, never confined as a prison - shine light in the darkness
Pint-sized as an artist making parchment the last resort for the might he could harness
But he was life-like; juxtaposed with a mannequin's stare and hipster clothes
Mixing those feelings of emotion with others of tension while he wished for growth
Disgusted, he trusted none, but befriended many on the path to a distant cove
Where oceans crush salt in his wounds underlining the face that his grimace wove
Through the grimmest known tragedies, he lifted gold and shifted goals casually
Never taking a minute to choose, no minute to lose, the only limit he knows naturally
...is the sky, once that fell, his heart sank deep when the reaper was coming
Cause the weakness of man is falling short of glory through the demons we summon
But the reason we run is the same reason we hide our secrets in dungeons
The people mean nothing, they feast with their eyes and eat for consumption
And he was not of this world, no foreign language - still lost in translation
He believed in right, morality never seems to die alone in a spot of stagnation
So then who is he? He is you and me, he is a human-being...he's an illusion, see
Portrayed as a loser, not opposite winners, but a person with no sense of truth to be
What was once his youth could be now stated as a useless plea for hoping at all
Considering the changes, pictures vividly painted everything he wrote on the wall
A word buried in ink - followed by a shot fired blindly with no beginning or end
His demons are awakened, he could die trying to face them or live and pretend
With nothing to fight for or against, his closest friends were his rivals at best
The shadows shrouded him for year and sleepless nights have put survival to rest
If it's vital, he was dying, but up until this point I had you sit through it, tense
Cause it's like the metaphor of feeling ripped apart has taken on it's literal sense
And if you've never felt the anger and pain, it's nothing like accepting abuse...
...he went through this alone and his memories escaped him as he bled to his shoes

Now the days grow short, I'm in the autumn of my years
And I think of my life as vintage wine from fine old kegs
From the brim to the dregs and it poured sweet and clear
It was a very good year

Memory Lane. It's the road most traveled. Also, the most feared.

vs.

From birth, we decide to follow a standard we've accepted as right
the views of another's sight, therefore we've rejected the light
obscured eyes become a faulty source of the lessons they write
fictitious stories fed to us as a reflection of life

Am I to believe that these Happy Days of Our Lives lead to Wonder Years?
and that Jason, not Dora and the Wonders Pets is the one to fear
well I've said Candyman five hundred fifty-five times still no one's appeared
can't get my child to listen, yet everyday Spongebob's in their fuckin ear
but I left my imagination in Foster's Home, what remains is a cautious soul
innocent lives taken everyday at the hands of your Paw Patrol
it was the same in my youth...
I too was distracted by our square friend's tales then
poison powder ushered in by the mail man and I was too busy focusing on becoming quail man
until I realized that the sands of life keep flowing when the tale ends
so your stories are only half truths with no tellings of the tail end
I'm sayin, if Monica's marriage fails, are Ross and Chandler still Friends?
as the reels spin, our attention's the Deadliest Catch they can reel in
how could you ever expect to learn The Facts of Life without grasping life
in Hell's Kitchen, chin inches above the assassin's knife
the Empire has made us peasants, The Walking Dead, simply zombified
victims of a sublime design, a stagnant flock in the fathers eyes
we have corruption running rampant and other actual scandals
buried under who sits and stands for your national anthem
these Tom and Jerry games you play, all your laughable antics
we watch the news seeking the truth and find the facts that you planted
listen...
you cant cover up What's Happening on the bottom just cause you name a show Good Times
and The First 48 is never the first 48 of any hood crime
the struggle for Power is real, but every man cut from that cloth knows that the power's in steel
still us surrendering our viewership leaves power instilled
all of you couch potatoes are food for the taking, you fools have been Taken
opened your home without establishing any Rules of Engagement
your consciousness forever trapped within their tools of containment
on the Outer Limits of reality, the cruelest of places
your overseer ever watching, not the usual face
the ones who brought you there were puppets, merely used and replaced
...
do you know how many teen moms have been created by Teen Mom
or how many episodes of The Wire has robbed us of high school phenoms
but rather than dream on, we'd rather cling on
to another's sweat and success and use it as a crutch to lean on
watching their every life decision, thinking they pawns when we pawns
cause aint no reason in hell you should be up 2am watching ping pong
your being manipulated and you don't even know it

Conformity
I truly wish that I could tell you I avoided the trap
see my individuality makes me apart of a pack
a target at that, but I hardly have a mark on my cap
they just invent seductive ways to try calling me back
I've been to that other plane, it almost caused me to crack
I'm a survivor of the system, mind partly intact

The Cybertronian War - PART ONE (SixShots Uprising)

Scavenging half dead planets. Barely clinging to life with metallic hands
Condemed to this rusted junkian planet for being subordinate to Galvatron plans
Cosmic atmosphere's barely breathable. Exhaust fumes depleted passed refuel
Who would think the extravagant lackluster battle against Ultra Magus would be my last duel?
My ranks steadily on decline. While Blitwing made a gut-wrenching power move
I'd side with StarScream but he still thinks 2nd in command is cool.
Envied Megatron's Ruled. Iron fists tactics. Knew I'd never squeal on my comrades
Despite the water boarding. Ironhide never got info outside of military dog tags
the gutless attacks were relentess. Optimus Prime's strategic warfare primitive at best
I was One Cybertronic laser beam away from blowing the matrix right outta his chest
Empowered by dark engergon with an explosive nature to rep the Decepticon emblem
scrolled through the long list of allies, while fully trusting none of 'em
Enlisted that Engergon-grabbing, double-talking Swindle simply
until he was spotted at Autobot City fraternizing with the enemy
Obliterate. Destroy. Recharge. Repeat. the hitlist was embedded on my cerebellum
Warpath, Sunstreaker, Bronz, Bumblee. Knew none were on my level
so I acquired the combaticons and left StarScream, that arrogant punk, behind
& stormed Teletran One. disrupted the signaling and malfunctioned its design
but the backup generation kicked in and supplied energon boosts through the station
so I took out Blaster and his legion of cassette tapes to disengage satellite communications
then the combaticons flanked the rear entrance; oil carcinogens protruding from gaseous exposure
That left 15% of the autobot personnel buried beneath the cave smashed by the bolders
So we continued the attack the same force that made StarScream obsolete
Counterstrikes were meek at the best, this time Megatron won't command us to retreat
So I deployed Thrust, Derge, Cyclonus, and the stunticons to continue the punishment
& trampled over the carcasses but someone forgot the dinobots were under it
because energon charged my drunken ambition the pursuit continued to level all foe
Perplexed antics led the reckless confrontations, but Tripticon was near invisible
Who fired off 20 cluster missiles leaving Grimlock and Snarl extinct beyond recognition
Back into the far east of Autobots HQ, Optimus Prime recanted regretted his decision
So I strutted up to prime with the guns blazin and realized Bruticus AWOL on this mission
the vacancy left was quickly filled by Menacer who took over that the position
Next recruits saw Astrotrain, Blitwing, and Octane barricading the corridors with combustible toxins
send message back to Galvatron but Shockwave managed to scrambling it up again
Even contacted SoundWave to deploy Lazerbeak and Ratbat to decode the message clearly
despite the failed communication and sabotaged espionage attempts, Galvatron could finally hear me
So I continued the relentless attack, on the verge of the Autobot demise
but understood treachery lurked amongst my lieutenants; Jetfire's the most I despise
cause he infiltrated the decipticons ranks masquerading as one of our allies
before I could give the Kill orders. I'd have to irradicate and expose his disguise

My mother died after my delivery. left my Heart torn; bitter.
So don't fuckin' ask me what made me a natural born killer
From each day that wind forth, my mind morphed more sicker
Born sinner, but I prayed that one day I would mourn with her
Father trained me young sensing a foundation of hatred, I cried-
But grew through warfare: imagine blood-spilling into a basin aligned,
To a bottomless pit.
+ I was impulsive as shit, vacant inside:
Connect the dots and you'll see that I had murder tracing my mind
Once he nurtured it, my inner-demons could be displaced 'till they died
Displaying the side of war and in each act where patience would hide
I dismembered men in every way possible; a corrupt doctor in a hospital
I became a one-man army with no obstacle; purely unstoppable
I appear down to Earth, but I am something this world has never seen;
A.k.a, Morpheus: a walking nightmare that made men forever dream.
Could slash at ya throat, watch you sputter, gasp, and then choke
I'm faster than most; I hit in a flash like a bolt:
That's what I call a 'lighting strike', and I do it until a bastard is broke
Never wasting the time without taking what's mine or breaking a spine
Trading blood with 2 men, I'll wrap their bodies together
Call it a 'Red-Cross' like I'm making the sign.
But this became a problem as I hunted people to hurt them for nothing
All the way, I couldn't fight the feeling that I was searching for something
It seemed I striving towards the invisible, or maybe the residual-
Of survivor's guilt, but just perhaps...
It explains despite who I killed, I can't relax
Restless cause I'm a slim sleeper. each life taken affects my health
Fuck a grim reaper, when I've been trying to slay death itself

I remember, just yesterday, our army raided a town
I entered into deep thought while all else were parading around...
Powerful silence prelude the battle, it was peace: a story in breath
Made me realize that every fight I enter I'm hoping I join my mother.
I suppose there is glory in death.

24

We are eruptions,
succumbing to numbing ourselves. It's two hundred and twelve degrees of separation. Dusty as hell. Punches of L-shapes from guns on the shelves. Rum and a seltzer, fully excelsior. The mulling and inference. So intellectual. Solely pedestrian.
From Belgrade to Belfast, Nicosia to Doha. A well-phrased hell's maid with a twelve-gauge boca. Potential and apathy, muddled with hypertension diastole, meth and venlafaxine, I'm happily blinded by the goodness gracious'es, and god willings'. Generated by the foot escape and botched feelings, the good-and-great, distraught feelings, the "I would, but wait, I'm not ready, it's not you, it's me," the third wheeling with the rookie waitresses @ Tops diner- pursuant to your goodest faith and palm healing, I'm not fine. I look away to stop reeling in the feelings of "should-have-waited," sibling of "could've-made-it-it's" not easy, like father'd say fullness fades from all beings. It's nauseating- the broken phrases, and constant gating. '98 Cutlass conversations. It's ad hoc acta non verba, bonafide and deo volente. Just Latin verbiage, and Spanish versions of a feeling that's empty. In English, it's preemptive and vicious- trilingual delinquent- a bitch to judicial systemics- amidst the bellowing sickness, collective and cold-blooded, never alone, just Facebook posts of another overdose, touching. It's never a lone suspect-- I fathom life’s an album with no avid features, no father, no teachers, just a Big–Brother -and future casket sleepers. Calloused-fingered miscreants and Avril Lavigne'rs. I've half figured out that what looks like it is, never is half that it seems, no valid procedures, no American dreams, just taxes that bleed, CPAP and desipramine. Enter OPERATION: NUMBMATH - one second you're fatherless the next second you're your father's daily sponge bath. Barely a speck or notation in the scheme of every eclosion, my love, we are aggregations of stellar explosions. We're a hoola hooping' past occasion, a Yokohama oculus, a Futurama populuxe, a metaverse and Honda whip, a ruler in a math equation, the nuisance of your last relation, a nuance to the calculations, the residue on your bedding too a supernova masturbation. Everything you ever loved is a heat transfer, I want my silent outcries to buzz until my teeth fracture. I've dot-commed and dot org’ed the last domaine- this is the soot that disrupts- crack cocaine. You do-gooders and Klu- Kluxxers are too dumb and too rubber- minded. Generation do nothing meets generation too touchy. Too feely and too lovey. I want to throw haymakers; hate speech; lay ether, generation Gatekeepers vs daterapers. Touché to all bastards, the Frantz Fanon and lake waders who paved the way, ridding the gaze of waste layers, ironic cause touché has Che in it. Even if you're early, you're a day late- it's the heart-throbbers vs the pacemakers, and kick ass, chew gum and take-namers, vs. kiss-assing hoodlums and naysayers. The quiet-minded, loud-mouther who wants to drink water for seven godless days without drowning. The Rottweiler, a tall glass of salt for lunch for the salt miners. Saw a chameleon die and change colors, saw a human just like that---the same culture. I'm An' Agassi before Roger, before Dramamine, our nine to fives are black comedies. Twiddle Dum meets Twiddle Dee, all I see is dying chameleons fading in jungle leaves