Storyteller vs Patrown vs Coup (topical) - COUP WINS 4-0 - Page 2

Coup · 07-05-2013, 10:55 PM

Topic

Verse 1

A memoir for the down trodden, to the ill forgotten:
Drift a mile in worn hauls, become her problems
Be the barefooted strange girl on a cruise ship
Apple bottom, candy cigarette, her nude lips
Shirt soaked suction tight, clung to perfect body
Provoking your silent awakening, pop a molly
Sail. Over a full moon glowing underwater
Below a sky befallen, darkened for the hour
Floating November misery in seas of lemon light
Swallowing the sun because it stolen the night
Be you. Changed to never trust yourself
Because a mile in you will never trust yourself
Don't judge her, until you lived her book
The cover is girl, and the material is rook
Be you girl interrupted. All pumped full of lead
Swimming with sharks in her head

Verse 2

Rotten, Smutted and proved to be the worst of three,
The sisters kept discreet while boys crept in to sleep.
Not a whisper did i peep nor did I sputter in disregard,
The utter urgency to keep apart the wanting in others hearts.
Clouding me shards that grey the bluest of moons,
Despair, puking onto the pillows as a purists perfume.
Baffling tunes of men hiding into our darkest of caves,
Shrapnels carving away at gaping holes as targets *of slaves.
Balled and chain not free to flock with the wind,
Animosity sin- a tier above what a melancholy binge.
Taste of the brim splurges into a spiral descent,
Parched, drenched- not wanting breath just gasping for death.
Clothing the stench; chasing shadows into circles,
Till my sight serves you a face, Paling faster to purple.
Bottled champagne without a corkscrew, impartial with perfection,
As my life isn't a reflection its more of a sentence answering my own question.

Who am I?

Verse 3

the empty vase

first steps were made.. on a dining room floor
making it up as they went over the time explored
each tear clings to dirt and falls from a cloud
its weight to much of a burden for pride to allow

sitcom sample laughter all that's left when it's gone
the owner tells the cops he's been there since dawn
"Mr. Obrian's not complyin' with directions again..
Just stay inside sir, protections been sent"

cops came and went, bring the irishman in
time after time taken with eyes vacant and grim
they shone with tears never allowed to be shed
all his time in heaven spent on earth instead

chased ghost's in a potato sack and threw snacks at scoobie
to kill the time while the past collapsed on itself so cruelly
an oasis isn't a mirage if you've taken a picture there
"our future's" a facade as soon as a kitchens bare

.

07-05-2013, 10:55 PM	#1
Coup Don't believe the hype Join Date: Feb 2013 Posts: 572 Battle Record: 4-5 Rep Power: 0	Storyteller vs Patrown vs Coup (topical) - COUP WINS 4-0 Topic Verse 1 A memoir for the down trodden, to the ill forgotten: Drift a mile in worn hauls, become her problems Be the barefooted strange girl on a cruise ship Apple bottom, candy cigarette, her nude lips Shirt soaked suction tight, clung to perfect body Provoking your silent awakening, pop a molly Sail. Over a full moon glowing underwater Below a sky befallen, darkened for the hour Floating November misery in seas of lemon light Swallowing the sun because it stolen the night Be you. Changed to never trust yourself Because a mile in you will never trust yourself Don't judge her, until you lived her book The cover is girl, and the material is rook Be you girl interrupted. All pumped full of lead Swimming with sharks in her head Verse 2 Rotten, Smutted and proved to be the worst of three, The sisters kept discreet while boys crept in to sleep. Not a whisper did i peep nor did I sputter in disregard, The utter urgency to keep apart the wanting in others hearts. Clouding me shards that grey the bluest of moons, Despair, puking onto the pillows as a purists perfume. Baffling tunes of men hiding into our darkest of caves, Shrapnels carving away at gaping holes as targets of slaves. Balled and chain not free to flock with the wind, Animosity sin- a tier above what a melancholy binge. Taste of the brim splurges into a spiral descent, Parched, drenched- not wanting breath just gasping for death. Clothing the stench; chasing shadows into circles, Till my sight serves you a face, Paling faster to purple. Bottled champagne without a corkscrew, impartial with perfection, As my life isn't a reflection its more of a sentence answering my own question. Who am I?* Verse 3 the empty vase first steps were made.. on a dining room floor making it up as they went over the time explored each tear clings to dirt and falls from a cloud its weight to much of a burden for pride to allow sitcom sample laughter all that's left when it's gone the owner tells the cops he's been there since dawn "Mr. Obrian's not complyin' with directions again.. Just stay inside sir, protections been sent" cops came and went, bring the irishman in time after time taken with eyes vacant and grim they shone with tears never allowed to be shed all his time in heaven spent on earth instead chased ghost's in a potato sack and threw snacks at scoobie to kill the time while the past collapsed on itself so cruelly an oasis isn't a mirage if you've taken a picture there "our future's" a facade as soon as a kitchens bare . __________________ What is public must be legit, fit for average consumption, don't forget. What is private is handled by pirates, prying loose profits from prosthetics. To tell the difference between: first remain unseen with a steady breath and hope, then listen to the cracks in the wall with a stethoscope. Last edited by Coup; 07-05-2013 at 11:09 PM.