Sunday, April 13, 2014

Remove Your 'For Sale' Sign From Upon My Property

How can I put this in a way
That you will understand?
You’re like a surveyor
Except you don’t look at the land.
You read what the tabloid said
And you just went with it.
When other people asked you to stop
You wouldn’t quit it
In fact, you came to see the land
With your mind all made up
Quick to believe that it was all just
Part of a setup.
Even brought a recording device
With a preset DVD
Of some shit about me
You probably heard on TV
You never looked at the property
You just looked at AD
And blindly choose to accept
That this property was bad
You asked me to honest
But couldn’t handle the truth
And then you pried to hear certain words
Just like a sluthe
I told you, it needed repair
But that not what you wanted to hear
So you ignored me,
As if I was not even there.
I never said that the property
Needed to be torn down
But the little I said
Conflicted with your crown
I told you a castle right now
Was just out of the picture
So you proceeded to act
Like I was a Dick, Sir
Excuse me one moment
But remember I let you borrow my hammer
And remember how many times
We used to talk in that suburban slammer
I gave you a tool,
Hoping to see you create
But you easily frustrate
And so you choose to destroy
My intentions were pure
But you got wound up like a toy.
So don’t get mad at me homie.
You judged a book
By the cover
And choose to be a hater
Instead of a lover.
I never sold anything bad
In all of my life
I might have used a few gimmicks
But I claim that right.
Being dishonest isn’t like
Being deceitful
One earns you a coffin
The other a sequel
When one explains what they know
They sell in a certain sense
You asked for advice
And I gave no pretense
But when you heard what
I had to say, you
Put me in past tense.
Acted like I dimed you out
But I just gave my 2 cents.
Your current realtor buddy
Is the devil in drag
Don’t mistake
The horns of Satan
And those of a stag.
He was once my mentor
And he guided me properly
But he mistook me for a house
Like I was just one his properties.
Thought he sold me a roof
So he would become my master
But homies full of themselves
Always meet ego-disaster.
And don’t get mad
And come to my door
Trying to compare dick sizes
His once was bigger then mine
But my “son” also rises
His moon has set
Beyond his horizon
But he went looney
Cause the tides
Are not empathizing
He lost his sway
He lost his way
He thinks his journey ended
But he only reached the bronze
While I transcended
For the gold pendant.
So now you put
A For-Sale sign
Upon my property
But that not how
You leave home properly.
I would have forgiven you
If you had just build sloppily
Nobody cared that your walls were wobbly.
We have all built houses before
Some of us floppily.
We took the good with the bad
And drew open the gates
To the community
But you were shamed of your house
So you withdrew from our unity.
And you’ve became a pawn
Your realtor’s commodity
And fulfilled you worst fear
By fulfilling your own self prophecy. 
You got yourself twisted
By following pride
But the grass is always greener
On the other side.

Where art

Where art
When art
How art
my stinky one
The one i really miss
whose mouth and breasts
and ideas
I've always longed to kiss
For long, We have no contact
and tis really a shame
for what is love is sweet like you
by any other name.
Most ones wont understand you
the way i get your jibe
but i when i did not hear from you
i felt a nasty vibe
but peace and understanding
was all i hoped to bring
and i never want to claim you out
from me you'll get no ring.
But time like you- A mistress
is one i cant endure
and so i want to know when
I can even up the score.
and see your pretty face again
walking through my door.
I heard the food is spicy down in Mexico
but i just want you to cum home
so i can eat your taco.

He to Whom the Bow Belongs

Of All the Psychic Mystic Fools,
That Lie and Cheat and Rarely Tell the Truth
The Ones That Guess the Future Best
Are Those Destined to Foot the Boot.

It Matters Not the Size of Shoe
This Tells Them Not O Where They Step
Nor Color, Texture, Hue, Expense, or Model,
Can Make an Ignorant Man Hep

Previous Roads are Often Thought,
When Sought are Explanations of Depth
But Breadth is Breath,
In Moments Death

For What Makes Man Believe in Cards
And Zodiac and Leaves of Tea
Is not the Magic So Suppressed
But tis the Trick that was set Free.

Magician and Poet, Both Can Impress
Upon the Tabula Rosa Mind
By Catching Patterns Others Miss
Linking Mind with Mind and Kind with Kind

But Neither Artist can Impress
Or Catch A Pattern So Forgot
As He to Whom the Bow Belongs
For he Knows Best his Arrows Shot.

And He Who Dwells on Targets Missed
Or Fortunes Lost, Never To-Be Foretold
Or Rabbits that Died in the Hat
Or the Fact that Old People Get Old

Tis he who Looks Back Upon The Moon
Afraid to Face A Rising Sun
Who Knows Which Road He Will Soon Take
His Own Predictions Often Stun

For No Magician Can Prepare
To Lose On Stage His Magic Hat
Except The One Who Wants His Trick To Be
How He Can Never Find Where Its At.

What Hurts Me Worst
Is While I Hurt
I See You Feel No Pain
And Wonder If It’s Sweet Song
Is Still In Your Refrain

Or If It Ever Even Was
Or If It Can Be.

While Half Of “We”
Is Sad With Grief
It Shows A Morbid Face
The Other Half
Shows No Face At All
Its Soul Has Been Erased.

There's only Darkness Now