SPIT HOT FIRE

I got some skill but ill will it warrants. This mini renaissance haunts the ghosts of Florence. Plastic dismembers the real feel of steel, chronic calm my cranium into an even keel. Shake as you may, I'll be the mainstay, rattling away 'til I fray you with my gray. matter maybe splatter shatter limbs into void, dog I aint even mad yet just slightly annoyed. Never static is the attic dwelling in my skull, constant motion this devotion to alleviate the lull. not a killer never filler often times a bottle spiller, summabitch just hand my ass another mothafuckn miller. Whisky got me feelin risky bout these shady dealins, try to force this shit on me and your grill they'll be peelin. Off the sidewalk your ryhmes lined in chalk, diligent I stalk, whack mc's cut off at knees for not passin the rock. Every time I face ya I marinate and baste ya, caked in spice a wasted life, those cannibals can taste ya.



Time for facing facts boy, you aint reachin the top. It's just beyond your grasp, saved for the creamy crop./Time for facing facts, you've got everything to fear. No way you can relax son, the lyricist is here.

Tracks

I'm always on a different rail than i was before.
Hmm... this seems like a good set.
It's funny that they're so proud,
they think i can't jump at any switch or crossing.

I sometimes go sailing,
under the bridges and through the tunnels,
lulled by the lack of things to see.
The mundanity is soothing but,
sometimes it's broken by the sight of graffiti or trash or garbage.

My favorite thing is to ride with the sun on my mind.
It makes the layovers so much quicker!
And if it hits at just the right time,
the scenic spots are visible for the duration of any trip.

My conductor doesn't always follow "maps,"
and on occasion we've almost been depleted of fuel.
However he's got a great sense of direction, and usually timing.
He jumped the tracks once though, and I asked him what went wrong.
He spoke quite simply of an ambivalent feeling toward every tine on the impending fork.

As of late mind you, I feel like I've been picking up speed,
and I don't feel much need for slowing down.
At this point I can see the see the frozen mountain pass behind me,
but even clearer are the sun drenched hills ahead.

Lovely Scars

to make love is to take love from one source to another,
the energy abides by laws while we protect our brothers.

granted that the mesmerized could be so cold, complacent,
highs and lows have been replaced in pergatory's basement.

collides behind eyes, a juxtaposition of darkened premonitions,
catalyzing hollow lies to a position of fruition.

Brazenly willing, the killing emblazened;
Hastening blood's spilling, now filling with amazement.

To build it up, it's broken down,
by the alpha pup, with mercury crown.

gawdy the monarch

Open the doors for the last of the days has arrived!

Blasted on points that joint that they took, the kid comes correct but he hasn't a hook.
Opting for a notion, ocean's seemed to scream the gleam of bloody streams.
He arose, sweet smell of a rose, as the slaves row, in hard scarred once tarred rows.
Hell hastens hither, holding hexes and holydays hand in hand.

Cradled and culled by life blood angellic, he's merely here to find us and tell it.
Knelt before by many, followers aplenty in elation for the subjugation of their nation's liberation.
Having a great run, he sees fit the world he runs, some say he never should have run, taking care of a fair share of glares as those tears begin to run.
Lavish linguistics lay lovely lullabyes, little by little they lose lucidity.

907 AtmospheriK

violet and orange mix to separate, sky from reality.
Clouded light is vibrant on the ground, every surface can shimmer or dull.
dust is the immaculate reasoning we need, to assure us we're still on earth.
As it helps us to differentiate, horizons, streets, new from old.
The point of water's molecular arrest, a high one.
The smogless aura of industry, held captive by dusted peaks.
Captains of the north we are. As if on a dare of Jehovah's formulation.
Of course we can. But why would we? because we can.


Double the time, for a walk. A drive.
from day one the stray sun
Keeps many feeling dead, others fully alive.

When the waters rise, so should we...

What a fool I must seem,

waiting, undue preparation for a threat we haven't seen.

I'ts not a gesture of "I told you so,"

I stifle the self-righteous, in hopes that you will grow.

I don't want to see this beauty, left upon the wayside.

Waste time! Make time? The difference is that they tried!

Come! Just listen, please don't dismiss me.

I don't claim to know it all, but I know the end comes swiftly!

Not warned they might say, for all that it's worth.

With reckoning upon us, it's time for our rebirth!

Rebirth of our attitudes, our spirits and our thoughts.

Rebirth that we may stake our claim for that which we have fought.

The splendor we've beheld, can't compare to what we'll see.

Just as the way you were, can't compare to what you'll be.

Don't ever fear the future, although it might displace us,

Our goal is to stay humble, vigilant and gracious.

Identify your ends, don't fret upon the lengths,

the task is not too arduous, no matter what your strength.

Whenever waters rise, brother so should we,

destroy the keys to our demise, whatever they may be.

When all the ocean's weep, and offer us no rest,

only then ,will it no longer matter who is best.

When the torrents rage upon us, with the fury of a God

hopefully our eyes will see, how beautifully we're flawed.

Cram

This morning, the fog was light.
Crazy, it's like i see better in the dark sometimes.
If I was superman I'd be up on the fucking moon right now,
basking my titanium lungs in the void.

Last night, I feared my plight.
However, now it's with an intrepid spirit that this feeling climbs.
The dread that once controlled, my mind from ceiling to cellar, vanished.
Groping towards the new ME, an anti-paranoid.

Did it all at once seem, like the life was a dream
when laughing at nightmares was something routine

For now the worst is past, done
And from the many steps the one

what was the key to knowing how?
regret is nothing, feel it now

The soar was up, alien, yet vaguely mundane.
and the Cram? like waters blasting beauty where breathing is in vain

So, yeah I'll admit it, I admit I got a lot.
But keep it hush, cuz feeling this damn good can get you shot.

Dereliction

I can see through the trappings set forth. They all come and go, as fleeting as the lives we hold to be important. These lives are, in all actuality, the most important. However, all at once they matter not.

To the universe I am an atom, one of trillions connected to the void.

To the world I am a speck, another one of these creatures, who tries to overcome the fact, that I am just another one of these creatures.

To this nation I am a number, a fraction of a decimal, plugged into an endless equation, if the outcome is undesirable, my number is redesignated to fit the system and quiet the remainder.

To this town I am a face, another name in a volume of names, waiting and hoping to be seen on the front page, before the obituaries.

To the one's I call my family, where blood has no meaning: I hope I am support, love, and an honest word when the truth is all but absent.

To myself I am a superstitious fool. To think one such as I could believe in the ideals we claim to imbue in the youth. For any and all matters deemed to be worthwhile, by myself and my kin, I pledge my fervorous compliance.

To myself I am a man, who believes in my God and my mind. I know what I believe is right. All the while, being bombarded with the fact that integrity is not fashionable; and that a promise, is nothing more than a future regret.

Saying is Believing

With the soul of a poet and the sage of a squire; I feel the words come floating, unwanting through the mire.
Knowing without seeing, and feeling without touch; the hollowness itself is full, though empty is my clutch.
Drawn towards me sparingly, like moths upon a flame; I need not those which it attracts, the fire is what I'll claim.
And once it gained I'll strive anew, complete my every task; having seen I'll draw the truth from my once empty flask.
Drunk upon my newfound wisdom, sought and then engaged; the constraints of these eyes now gone, a shattered rusty cage.
So naive, but now I know, the purpose of these lines; not meant to sit upon the pages, but live inside the minds.

religiosity

frustration is the key to my propulsion. a glass shield and a paper sword are the array that protect this pilgrim. with these i carry on toward the emblem of my faith. crafty as they are, my eyes can see the lack of luster in my many foes. i have stripped them of their fervor and zeal and now bear it upon myself.hard fought, with tooth and nail, knife and stone till ample casualties amounted. it seems that the battle was mine all along, i needed only take the chance, and sacrifice. the key was to indulge outward and bestow the feelings i desperately sought to instill in myself. TEN FOLD WAS THE RETURN. to this effect i have succeeded, gradually gaining, and inching toward the unattainable.

Pharoahs and Pheromones

clasp, those fingers like cufflinks, too tight to let even air escape.
behold, the lovely light that finds quarter finally in our eyes.
steal the seconds,minutes,days until you finally get your life back.
bow towards the ones that make you feel as if bowing is something worthwhile.
create a barrier between yourself and false love, between you and honest hate.
The little ones, our captives, we've got 'em! Let those son's of bitches free!
I'ts melting growing and bubbling, don't be the only one not consumed.
if the sun beats down upon you, Beat Back! Show him weve got a sense of humor, and huge balls to boot.
Madness is doing the same thing over and over, expecting something different. Like going to your job without an uzi, and hoping that your life will change .
wander with abandonment towards the goals you didn't know you had.
Once you've found it, lose it. this way there's always an excuse to look again.
Blaze.
On tracks, on fields,mics,discs,paper,j's,beds,consoles,feet.
Blaze the heartbeat of a notion, that rises rhythmic in tune with your own.
Notariety is insecurity with support.

Is there some kind of point here?

I think God put me here to love. Something I haven't been partaking in at all as of late. So I have to ask if I have been living or existing. Hell, I'll just play it off like everthing's cool in the remote case that someone asks. Have I been this way all along? I'm not really sure, I always thought of myself as friendly, but now I'm beginning to doubt it. Times where it would be so easy to outstretch a hand, I withdraw, relying on my shaky judgement of the situation. Sometimes I wonder whether or not I'm scared, but then I realize that the only thing in this life that I am truly afraid of, is that which I perpetuate.

I cringe all too often at my mistakes of the past. Rather than learn the lesson, I go straight to the test, making sure I pass, but not knowing why. Why is there regret in my heart? I haven't screwed it all up that bad have I? No, I haven't. I'm just pissed that I have to resort to philosophical crap just to have something to write about! Ha!

I'm starting to think that maybe I ain't as good at reading people as I once thought. This above all includes myself. I over and underestimate contstantly, even now as I think. Much of my family seems to be cut from the same cloth as me. I value people and ideas above all else, but people value and worship objects, which I put little or no stock in. This means that someday soon I'll be forced to abandon these ideals, in order to acheive monetary notariety, and have those same people value me as well. So I'll be alone in my outlook for now, the only one who can truly see that we are all we've got, or maybe truly blind to the fact that I am all that I have.

Steve Dub's twenty-second revolution

Well, well it's monday the twenty-fourth which make's it Steve's birthday. He's twenty-two now, which seems like a good age. Although this means that he'll have to stop shitting himself and wear big-boy pants from now on. I'm just kidding, Steve hasn't shit himself in at least a year. Anyway this is for Steve in all of his button down, onatallnightmanibeonatalldaystraightuppimpifyawantmeucanfindmeinAK, Cracker ass pimpocity. Here is a list of jobs that I think Steve could excel at, some of which I've told him and some I haven't.

A. Politician-This kid could argue with his mom about what time he was born, he has never been wrong about anything ever, and he loves the sweet aroma of all of the fesces he's constantly exuding.

B. Pro-wrestling manager-like paul bearer or that jimmy guy who came out with the honky tonk man and wore the piano key neck tie. Steve already hangs out with big dudes who've got his back, he might as well put on a neon tux and get paid for it.

C. Pimp- Steve love's the ladies, and the ladies... Steve loves the ladies. I think if he wanted he could convince a few of his more "questionable" hook-ups, (and a few of his friends',) to partake in some Ho-ing.

D. Ho- I think I could convince Steve and some of my more questionable hook-ups to partake in some Ho-ing.

E. Regular contestant on Mtv's "Real world/Road rules Challenge"- I feel that Steve could fit right in with these whackos. He already has shit talkin down to an art form, and is extremely competetive. Plus he would totally dig all of the drunk-ass trim regularly featured on the show.

F. Leader formerly known as King- Steve would be demoted to this rank when he encroached on my decrees. We would then poison one another after the collapse of society.

Z. Analyst on "Around the horn"-Steve knows a fuck load of sports, and he is always down to throw his two cents in. After Mariotti leaves the show Steve will step up as the ATH token asshole. Watch your back Paige.

This is my "gift" to S-Dub. He is my brother from another mother, and I will be breaking my foot off in that ass later today. Steve will enjoy it waaayyy too much. So Steve, I hope you've been offended to the point that you take this as a heartwarming compliment. If not, I really couldn't give two shits.

Smirk

The wind was blowing south as the skies acted as strange is I've ever seen. There were huge snowflakes mingled with a sprinkling rain that caused the snow to clump before it even hit the ground. The temperature felt like almost fifty degrees, warm enough not to need a coat. I remember how everything was permeated by the bright light of the sun, however bright it was cast with a gray hue. I distinctly remember him because of the way he came down the road towards me. His head hung in a manner that made me question whether he could even percieve the world around him. Somehow he saw me and began making his way slowly in my direction. I felt a strange sense of contempt and pity towards him, if only because of his unhinged demeanor. It seemed with every step he took that he might fall flat on his face, but every time he managed to get one foot precariously in front of the other.

Even as he neared the patch of grass that I was standing on, I couldn't make out his face. His hair hung over his eyes, and it seemed to float to cover him as he lurched his head to and fro. He started walking up the drive towards me, up until then I had been merely a spectator to his seemingly drunken stride. I began feeling a strange sense of dread as he walked up to me and outstretched his hand. This was not a fear that he might try to harm me but only of what he might reveal. As he grabbed my arm a jolt was sent through my frame that almost knocked me to the ground.

"The stones cast in malice create the barrier from perfection. It is crowded outside the wall, while attainment lies within." With an almost maniacal smile he revealed his face, and it was a mirror of my own.

"Walk the true path or walk akin to me!" He turned and strode off toward the road quickly and deliberately in his pace. He never faltered and turned only once, to smile and show the possession of his true value, and that of my true vanity.

Help Wanted

seriously, three people is all i need to rock the shit.
i know dudes that play guitar but just aint got my fever, the flow will mesmerize and make the party true believers.
drop and rock the baseline keep it going let it lift, i compliment that knowledge with a rapid verbal riff.
you aint gotta be hendrix dog, a couple licks is all i need; float melodies throughout the air like the smoke from a bowl a weed.
thirdly comes the snares i love, they live inside my mind, without them all my lyrics would need a beatbox of some kind.
i cut fractions of factions that doubt my skills are many, seein me for free's like gettin a QP for a penny.
if you see something you like, just email call or write, whether i need to scream sing or kill the mic it will be tight.

Going down in spades

Which way should I head? A boy will ask himself as all boys at one time do. Toward the harsh and beautiful sun, the trail is fraught with ache and exhaltation. Toward the cool call of the treeline; the shade invites, promising a lull of easy dissapointment and remarkable inability. It seems that this choice, so simplistic in it's view is not taken lightly, by but a select few. As he nears the wood's edge, he feels his shoulders lighten from all burden, however displaced is the weight upon his heart. As the youth is gripped, by the lullabye forsaken by resillience, he hears the faint calls of heartache and glory. Toward the damp and dark those cries become much softer still, till only gray and dull surrounds. The realization of complacency! The Youth feverishly retreats from the place where neither ebb nor flow exist. And strikes his path, onward, outward, and inward, toward the turbulent beauty that is manhood.

In the immortal words of ice cube..."Tadow, How ya' like me now?"

So here it is, my first blog chock full of poetry, song and other inane bullshit!My first foray into anything like this and you get to bear witness! Awesome right...well actually it is awesome, and i can't whine like no punk. Cuz I leave that to the damn bleeding hearts. I think my heart started bleeding once, but a few beers later and it cleared right up.

So as the saying goes, my momma didn't raise no fool , my daddy didn't raise no punk. However, since everyone has both, and most people were raised by either their momma or daddy, how the fuck come there are so many punk ass fools in this damn country. Maybe all the p.a.f's just spring up out the ground... like cabbage bitch kids. Someone please help me figure this one out.

Ha,
Nofuknway

not a' ne'er nada

this is my first blog. that is all.