It is you that I hate.
You who was never there,
you that took my pride, stole my faith,
murdered my innocence
before I even knew what it was.
It is you that possesses me,
seeping through my flesh,
You for so long GOD.
Dark black evil GOD.
Sadist, rapist, murderer.
It is you that issued me life.
And spat me out your loins into your nigger ghetto.
And I will kill you.
I will kill you. I will kill you.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Mother (A Confession)
I still can't hold a woman in my arms.
Because of you.
I still can't call home.
Because of you.
I still can't know who I am.
Because of you.
I still can't have memories.
Because of you.
I still can't have childhood.
Because of you.
I still can't cry.
Because of you.
I still can't feel.
Because of you.
I still can't let go.
Because of you.
Because of you.
I still can't call home.
Because of you.
I still can't know who I am.
Because of you.
I still can't have memories.
Because of you.
I still can't have childhood.
Because of you.
I still can't cry.
Because of you.
I still can't feel.
Because of you.
I still can't let go.
Because of you.
Babylon, Nigga. Babylon.
Microphones are weapons
Ciphers tell the story of a generation
are you
lost?
are you the voice crying in the wilderness?
are you an angry ghost?
prophet? or just propaganda?
Ciphers tell the story of a generation
are you
lost?
are you the voice crying in the wilderness?
are you an angry ghost?
prophet? or just propaganda?
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Pen's Lament
This empty page screams profanities
cursing this pen, damning her impotentence
"Just let me write the damn thing!" she says.
My words bore her,
if and when they appear.
"Fuck your writer's block!" she says.
Cruel evil bitch.
I know her TYPE:
wants to suck this pen dry like a high class whore scheming to publish a memoir
cursing this pen, damning her impotentence
"Just let me write the damn thing!" she says.
My words bore her,
if and when they appear.
"Fuck your writer's block!" she says.
Cruel evil bitch.
I know her TYPE:
wants to suck this pen dry like a high class whore scheming to publish a memoir
The Desperate Hours
There is no cure for lonliness, there is no balm for a broken heart.
What is "love", when she is but a silent ghost haunting the desperate hours
her touch cold and distant?
What is "love", when she is but a silent ghost haunting the desperate hours
her touch cold and distant?
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