Signs Of A Storm

timeless · 09-11-2014, 10:13 AM

Dreams are counted by a machine each time you sleep.
Reads of crowded lies, and a need : teach rhymes to bees.
So I set out, my backyard surely had plenty to see.
When I found them, they just asked if I was "Ready to breed?"
Hundreds at full speeds came at me to perform their cruel deed.
Sting me with their dicks, and leave me to absorb and pulled teeth.
I killed all but one, the only bee born with a dick lacking venom.
He shook my hand, and gave me his worn, withering ranking emblem.
He said he knew of others who seek to become famous rappers.
Told him to meet me at the park after dark to slate a chapter.
Brought my rhyme book, he brought a dub rolled up in a blunt.
He learned nothing. We got too high and loads drunk then we sunk.
He gave me directions to a friend's house to try and teach him.
Said he lived at the bottom of the hill, to keep eyes for each grim
look on their faces. So I raced to the location and waited.
Pacing, an army of ants trained in shading the pavement.
An arrangement caved in quick then awakened,
when I flashed mint saying, "fuck with me." they obeyed it.
At first they oscillated, but they stayed and I grew impatient.
I needed new relations, I would go to God but he BEEN on vacation.
Fuck it...
...Hello? God?
They just didn't get it, I needed to spread the culture.
Humans are dropping it, so maybe HipHop will have sex with vultures.
Or something rather, shatter teeth and invest in vulgar
threats that'll have every species impressed and bolder.
Either way in the end of the human existance,
we won't be around to see HipHop moved by ecosystems.
Such a shame, a paved road made and soon displaced.
I heard some birds mock people, maybe they'll sooth the wait.
Before she dies,
explore the eyes,
cry as it pours.
Report : Demise.
Signs of a storm.

09-11-2014, 10:13 AM	#1
timeless past tense Join Date: Nov 2013 Location: NJ Posts: 1,623 Battle Record: 22-39 Rep Power: 4341329	Signs Of A Storm Dreams are counted by a machine each time you sleep. Reads of crowded lies, and a need : teach rhymes to bees. So I set out, my backyard surely had plenty to see. When I found them, they just asked if I was "Ready to breed?" Hundreds at full speeds came at me to perform their cruel deed. Sting me with their dicks, and leave me to absorb and pulled teeth. I killed all but one, the only bee born with a dick lacking venom. He shook my hand, and gave me his worn, withering ranking emblem. He said he knew of others who seek to become famous rappers. Told him to meet me at the park after dark to slate a chapter. Brought my rhyme book, he brought a dub rolled up in a blunt. He learned nothing. We got too high and loads drunk then we sunk. He gave me directions to a friend's house to try and teach him. Said he lived at the bottom of the hill, to keep eyes for each grim look on their faces. So I raced to the location and waited. Pacing, an army of ants trained in shading the pavement. An arrangement caved in quick then awakened, when I flashed mint saying, "fuck with me." they obeyed it. At first they oscillated, but they stayed and I grew impatient. I needed new relations, I would go to God but he BEEN on vacation. Fuck it... ...Hello? God? They just didn't get it, I needed to spread the culture. Humans are dropping it, so maybe HipHop will have sex with vultures. Or something rather, shatter teeth and invest in vulgar threats that'll have every species impressed and bolder. Either way in the end of the human existance, we won't be around to see HipHop moved by ecosystems. Such a shame, a paved road made and soon displaced. I heard some birds mock people, maybe they'll sooth the wait. Before she dies, explore the eyes, cry as it pours. Report : Demise. Signs of a storm.