lyrics, verses (whatever u want to call them) that i've done.
*written to the topic: Violence* A History of Violence
inquiring minds and theory,
has try to define it; merely
a state of design? a series
of hatred devised? or clearly
a fate or divine inquiries
instated by higher spirits
lets take what we find. share it..
then shape it. In time maybe
we’ll gain a concise clearing.
my take on this vice....ready???
The Mechanic of Violence
It starts with a spark..dark matter, potential energy
gathering friction. speed increases volt intensity
forcing density to burst to a fine incandescent;
design so effective refining effort coursed in history
fuels from fossils form an industry born of synergy
depleting resources; Pyrrhic war lost in victory
heat source converted. bursting. do we call it disaster?
as the engine roar, movement starts.. exhausting the matter
A History of Violence
It starts with a spark...dark matter, potential energy
“let there be light!” VIOLENT discharge; celestial symphony
matters collide, space and time came to existence
quantum mechanic governs Yahweh's insane exposition
and there came a condition
survival of fittest - became a race a consistent
display of division,
a game a decision
of change so for instance
we’ll take what is given,
let’s say...the election...
as ideas are...
grade and dissected,
displayed for rejection
on stage and on network
engaging in conflicting ways and perspective
abate or accept it’s the way we elect AND...
this is the ways that was set...now do we call it disaster?
perhaps a proper analytic before exhausting the matter...
There’s a method for progress,
call it necessary contest
history dictates that for every movement there’s conflict
just as fuel mix with spark allow for movements of cars
opposing passionate views clash are rudiment, yall
whether political landscape or silence working of time...
It all starts with a spark as violence works her design
it sort of all
starts with a ball
loners hearkened the call
Marathon of microbes
plight for the wall
To Fight for
It all ..
So what's the point of life?
A code as old as sanskrit ..
Probe and mold in candid
Prose and poems; semantics
Told when Job was banished,
Roamed in Moses absence
Only those who brandished
.. Holy scrolls for answers,
Could behold this manic ..
Scope of scolding tantrum
To some it's in perfection,
Or maybe imperfection..?
A personal progression..?
Or twice in this perspective
Through silent introspection
And times of deep reflections
Defining peaceful presence..
We seek it in the 'moments'
credence we've condone but
Some point to life as violent,
Some find the point in science
While others' kindly suffice...
to answers found in The Christ
but heres some sounding advice
The answers' clear as day sky
observe our place as playwrights
before we exit stage right ..
we forge and fold our way by
then watch the paper take flight
we’re here to piece the archive
define the roles of our lives
for ‘meaning’ cannot survive
without a ‘me’ and ‘an i’
so look and peer deep inside
Its there...there you will find
The only point In Life Is
L I f e
Topic battle vs a guy name Blacketh. I chose the topic "Death"
"After all the highways, and the trains, and the appointments, and the years, you end up worth more dead than alive. It eats you up inside" ~D.O.A.S Act 2, Part 4, pg. 76
Death of a Salesman
Sales a tricky subject, not for the sick or the sluggish. Its..
a slick, shifty suggestive pattern; witty prerequisite
diatribe of the vilest kind, apply underlying code
meta-message and model Milton Erickson mind unfolds..
method of self persuasion to persuade its no mystery
Conviction....the art of conning self into victory
Start with the basic technique; one must create the rapport
mimic their vaguest movement (though the pace is ignored)
it plays upon an inner layer as relations are formed
so imitation, at basic, help in creating that bond
breaking the wall; that nature often built in as verity
what calms the senses more...than feel of familiarity?
see if you can catch this craftily masked linguistic pattern:
“Mr. Jackson, what we haves a most advance contraption
by this....i mean it satisfy a lack of balance
for one, it help to analyze and track the results
that would otherwise create an even dire default...”
Didn’t catch it? lets try again...
“Mr. Jackson, what we have's a most advance contraption BUY THIS...i mean it satisfy a lack of balance
for WANT IT helps to analyze and track the results
that would otherwise create an even dire default...”
subtle slip of the tongue with a drop in tonality
can alter sub-messages, effecting new strategies!
suggestive descant, listeners subjecting to trance
this, my friend, is what we call embedded command
trick or trade? Sometimes success rests on society’s pawn
so conscience are...flipped and twisted into science of con
Gone are times of moral compasses and cordial standards
as attention spans not too far from comfortable habits
so as a mean of counter-tactic, sordid acts are preferred
i can sense weakness...how? I WAS ONCE WHAT THEY WERE...
some say invention is birth from the womb of necessity
but every sales made often proved as a death of me.
Last edited by dynamix on Dec 29th, 2014 at 03:45 AM
i just wanted to be left alone - a quest that often fail
and justice?! Justice was weighed on prejudicial scale
man or monster? ask the mob what my presence entails
fumbling footsteps ensue as i enter the fray
clenching my fist, grappling with demons sentenced to slay..
those i've sworn to protect, despite contemptuous ways
i’ve tried to find the brighter side behind this strength that i’ve gained
perhaps a blessing in disguise? perhaps some destined foray
against the horde of mephistopheles, a pension i’ve paid!!
but - what have i done? γ me??? i remembered that day....
i didnt care for fame or fortune, just advancements in ways
that would benefit my fellow man with gamma as base
but an accident - an accident was all it would take
to turn a man into a savage dealing damage and pain
science stained with propane method and remnants of rage
judged by my skin color, fvck - I rep an envious place
hidden deep inside you all behind ur garden of grace
stone skipping, serene canvas runs a rapid embrace
behind that cemetery - where dead memories lay
stood an inner child, lost, coursing through Manitou’s maze
but fvck this psycho-metaphor gawbage, i’ll leave ur skull bashed
and leave some nice parting words for yall fukerz......
Bigger Better Business Marketing
BBB Marketing is a soul proprietor.
providing clients with over 90 kind of signage plus...
utilizing the true and tried tools of the past
our rudimentary rubric commit to units in mass
producing lucrative revenue; through beautiful ads
we guarantee to move consumers using luminous facts
without views from you, the clients, we'll continue to build
a foundation that proves useful; so let's move us some cash!!
Here at bbb marketing, our mission is clear
In our hands,
your brand's handled with commitment and care
providing you, our valued clients, with a finest provision
with eyes for design, you'll find we know what's hot and what isn't
put your trust in our system, sit down and shut your mouth
we'll make the world eat you up....chew....then spit u out
Sex sell, my friend. We'll put the ass in mass market
it's fact that these rap artists have mastered this graph target
which transfer to cash profit. according to stats more than
one half of the mass populace act on a brash process
called titty and ass logic, you figure it’s ass backward??
Observe how in past often the theme of an ad prospered
through scantily clad “objects” and sexually tagged concept
Just been reading over some of this, it's pretty impressive stuff. I'm rubbish at poetry, but I like reading it. These poems have a real sense of flow, you can read them like you would fiction. Above all, they don't come across as the creation of an inflated ego: they read like someone with a flair and passion for language. Essentially, they aren't cheesy, trite or forced. They're just well-written pieces. Nice work, dynamix!
"There is nothing in the world so wonderful as to love and be loved; There's nothing so devastating as love lost.."
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The time came and went, now i play angelic violin
recap a story of our family...hmm...where do i begin?
said you wanted a family; You wanted to conceive kin
but like a PACIFIST, you COULDN’T FIGHT for what you believed in...
YOU would’ve been some body’s mom, but your heart wasn’t on.
In a world of PRO life and choice....there's so many CONS..
In a world where I'm gone, where i'd always miss you
where my developing tissues becomes political issues
The world became a harsh place; faces charging you with gazes;
Creating guilt trips, then they follow suit with cases!
But don’t be mad, OK? You were too young to understand
that it takes more than a short skirt to raise a man.
But regret can work both ways. That day it hurt.
The fact that my mother wouldn’t have me was worse;
but not meeting you....that to me was the worst curse
i had no Earth birth, but mommy here is my first words.......
you made your mind, now I’m saying good-bye
but please don’t cry, i guess it just wasn’t my time,
But didn’t you realize, there’s fortune in this bundle of joy!
Luck be a lady......or maybe a baby boy!
I heard you whisper that night, saying Daddy would leave us.
I felt your sadness, mommy; YOU were RIGHT, HE LEFT!!
I was a bastard without a dad to call my own...
but i wasn’t mad, at least i had a mom for sure!
But plan ’A’ didn’t work, so then you went for plan ’B’
but the next step, (DAMMIT) was ’O’ ’R’ ’T’
I never got to see your face and though our moment was brief
I cherished every single day with you....I LOVE YOU, Mommy!
Sometimes i wonder how it feels to be free,
to eat and breathe, or even to see my feet.
But it’s hard to walk righteous with a troubled soul
And now it's just...how could u just let go?
I knew you loved me, i knew your feelings right from the start;
cause for five months, i was the closest thing to your heart.
You had your reason, thats why i never questioned your merit;
because your love was obvious....it just wasn't apPARENT.
they say the truth is hard to swallow, i'd hardly digress
cuz sometimes food for thought can be hard to digest
and you bit...more than you can chew; wrestling with guilt
you'd rather bottle up your feelings...instead of my milk.
And will you put my ultrasound in the family album???
You got the picture; you just didn’t give it a chance to develop.
I might’ve been the next President, mommy, why’d you give in?
Opportunity knocked....DIDN’T YOU FEEL IT KICKING????
There’s something i have to tell you mom, when you rubbed on your tummy,
i pressed my hand against yours....i reached out to you mommy!!
WHERE WERE YOU?!! Didn’t you hear me cry??
Sometimes i wished you’d listen to that little voice inside!!
I DON’T BELIEVE YOU DIDN’T NEED ME, SEE ITS A LIE!!
And if your water didn’t break, THEN WHAT’S LEAKING OUT YOUR EYES!!
YOU DIDN’T WANT TO BEAR ME, NOW YOU CAN’T BEAR THE TRUTH;
HOW YOU’RE TRAPPED IN THE PAST, YOUR FUTURE DIED INSIDE YOU!!!
But i love you!! And though i was a product of sin,
one day I’ll take you to heaven with my premature wings.
Say hello to my siblings, tell them "Hi" for me.
I’ll always watch over you, i promise. Good-bye, mommy...
*Vs a guy name Soul Slayer*
*Topic: Population Control*
"During their four years in power, the Khmer Rouge overworked and starved the population, at the same time executing selected groups who had the potential to undermine the new state (including intellectuals or even those that had stereotypical signs of learning, such as glasses) and killing many others for even breaching minor rules.
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Food For Thought
they say that history repeats, dont take it lightlym so listen....
this is food for thought to curb an appetite for destruction...
there are rich and poor, big and small, thin and wide
there's the brighter side but then we have the gen-o-cide
started in seventy-five; that's when the plot would thicken
home's where the heart is yet we're trapped in hell's kitchen
couldnt smell what they were cooking so we sound and cheered
a resounding spark...that started out our foulest years...
they would warn of attacks...a propoganda act
in other words, it's Pol POT calling the kettle black
held in the act their control was created by fear;
as they would spoon-fed us all these half-baked ideas
terrorizing civilians..with claims of bomb threats
fitting of Khmer Rouge the way they painted the town red
knowledge are down kept; trace were death impose
penalties were set on those who made a......."spectacle"
so contempt and human waste replaced room with a full view
cuz literally, we sat and fuccin stewed in their own juice
abused by our own. truth? we'd fight to survive....
but starvation meant it's hard to take a bite outta crime
it's appetite for destruction; hundreds' beaten n' battered
anarchist cookbook couldnt piece this recipe for disaster
believing strength in numbers, many counted their blessing
but if u are what u eat...then we amounted to nothing!
thousands were sent to rice fields as senseless slaves!
the results were death if you went against the grain
stench of pain had us praying "Please Buddha save us
from starvation"...we couldn't enjoy our...fruits of labor
so we chewed on the fact that we're fighting with luck
cause its either...u bite the bullet...or ur biting the dust
so bite ur tongue....despite the sad dramas and tears
vea mean kabut yurng mean chantak anah mote cheang?*
placed in hell's kitchen we would dwell as restless souls
growing bitter; revenge was a dish best served cold
i would pester my folks 'bout how they managed escape
but the mere thought would prompt a bad aftertaste
the truth's hard to swallow; maybe not knowing is best
cause sometimes food for thought....can be hard to digest
so why bite more than you can chew; forget and forgo
cuz the reality will probably bring a big lump to your throat
as friends become enemies when given ration of sums
cuz fck breakin bread..we're too busy panning for crumbs
hardship and famine exposed our most basic design
how we'd opt for piece of cake instead of peace of mind.
sleep in silence re-education were taught in vain
cuz they can try and brainwash but dirty thoughts remain
i got dreaaaams of killing off these sons of bitches
i aint playing its kinda crazy.....
*They have swords we have focus/perseverance. Which is sharper?
contrasting lights depicting form as flash of brights assist the dark
through blackest night, my system sparks of vast design and simple forms
contrasting style, distinction forced a flash of smile in sync with yours
a child of mine i sing a song; my battle cry’s a Sinthavong
as gathered eyes come skipping forth to cast a widest vision awe-
-inspiring “tries” with gripping sto-ry(re)vitalized a city bored
of violent crime; a vision calling.
Tired lines are reservoir
of grand design to pic(k) apart.
I've trained my eyes to snip and sort
the pattern right through winced distort.
to scan the finest image coursing,
one must try to drift in thoughts and cast aside what we’ve been taught
and ration why we deemed it art.
through practice i concede to more
than black and white; a vision war - aligned, unite in prism storage*
...child of mine i sing a song of clashing titans, sticks and swords
and flash of lightning - myth and lore which bask in timeless stills conform
my anger like a woman scorn dispatching dire shutter storm
my crafts admired near and far; a child of mine i sing a song
my tag define my person - all! with battle cry of “Sinthavong”
a bastard kind, i sing this song; my battle cry since i was born
i grasp the light, i kissed my mom; her fragile smile, a gift from God
my dad? he died...i wished...but naw, i guess with time he drifted off
until that night his sickness forged a violent side with fist and force
antagonizing with a sort of brash disguise as liquor poured
in flask. I tried...to calm the storm, alas
a script, 'divine', would take it's course
an accident. a fatal shot. a dad who sinned. a sickly horse
i closed my eyes as visions formed, then flash of brights assist this dark
and flash of life come skipping forth
a battle sigh's of Sinthavong....i closed my eyes as darkness fall
remember my existence was of one who kindly gave my all
until next time... i kissed my mom, her battle cry.... "sept somnaul"
To my brother from another. And the illest photographer i know.
I wrote this in dedication to my gf lol. she's always questioning her worth and i don't know why!
a race of ridicule based on municipal meets
tracks of decaf - disease patched on Dunstable street
dicking Jane - corporate ladder office windows and suite
mounds of check rise. and neck ties with tempest elite
destine to meet, press allegiance test this somber system
- heels and miniskirt’s a leg up on the competition
An art. A system. Arguments of vague and passive words
Plato’s philosophy to Kratos crazed vernacular
strange - spectacular engaged in feudal warring state
of mind - knowledge. Power pending play of swords and blades
Lilith longing for equality’s a coarse display
deemed a demon just for reasoning the Lord’s way
sons of atom and eve-olution sent to month of may
- to be tempted by the jezebels of present day
piece of ass. meat. tasked? create/induce confusion
a spare rib. caged, allude to ancient institution
state pen deducing arguments to prove as fact
that men are better than women? ‘but where’s the proof’ in that
you think that power’s in the proof of pudding dicks in pussies?
‘cause lust is limbo and the bars been raised since 1960
behind a great man’s a leading lady. paradox?
Where would Columbus be without Isabel of Aragon
Sun Wukong waged a holy war against the heavens
But it was Guan Yin, the Holy Mother he lamented
again my scorned form exceeds the fury depth of hell
so i came to raise it ..
- Sincerely, Jezebel