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sral
02-03-2018, 09:05 AM
@infiktration

Saint
02-03-2018, 02:34 PM
"Stacy's Mom" (and her Profound Feelings of Loss)

Spurned smoke, crisp September crackles in burnt oak
sifting embers, once named Faith, but she preferred Hope
sitting, trembling, just remembering on her back porch
the source of heat exhausted, also, she lacked warmth
she sat scorched, no past regret was the least forgotten
misbegotten breeze, gusts of grief from a teasing Autumn
she'd seemed despondent until that calm drift made her shift
it came swift, her gaze quit, 'hey, thanks for the lift'
yet remained split, she lacked the integrity necessary
was content to marry for money to relieve the debt she carried
yet she barely kept her cherry long enough to get her bearings
and still removing clothes didn't change how much she's wearing
hardly caring... she barely worried about Heaven or Hell
and considered her fingernails as an extension of self
let the emptiness dwell, she came to loathe her lack of growth
went back and forth with depression, to forge an acrid oath
her pain burned within, so she swore to never hurt again
and decided to swallow pride, with a mouthful of percodan
it's still hazy... thinking now, she must've been crazy
and she never would've done it, if she had have had Stacy
her unborn baby, whose first breath didn't escape the womb
a sweet flower that had withered, before it got to bloom
he sealed her doom, at once he'd been nothing but loving
but was a begrudging curmudgeon once she had a bun in the oven
so she snubbed it, a decision she's yet become one with
cuz she still cries herself to sleep, clutching her stomach
she's still running, trying to escape her former anguish
but what's strange is 'change' always seemed a foreign language
she was ashamed of all the pain she suffered needlessly
and sleeplessly envisioned a life that had ceased to be
in recent dreams, she saw her baby born in perfect health
but Stacy couldn't have first steps, until she took some herself
so she enlisted help, a support group to build her fortitude
it was a torpid troupe of women that had had abortions too
emotions strewn, just trying to find Hope in their cause
they'd open their hearts and talk about coping with loss
they'd broke from their talks, and they'd break for fifteen
and she'd go to the Maternity Ward to watch the babies sleep
it gave her peace, she knew she'd have to find it someway
figured she'd keep the Faith, might be worth something someday
then she'd head home, and quickly take the kindling out
light a match, and watch as flames and ashes dwindle about
no wrinkle of doubt as to why life had singled her out
and how hard it was to live with what she was living without

"Greener Pastures"

I'm the reefer man... an over-eccentric Weezer fan
believe it, man... I rock more green than Peter Pan
I'll scheme a plan, to get weed fronted in an instant
come lookin for dough? that's me, runnin in the distance
the dirty ditchpig, fiending off your little poochie joint
plus I got shit that'll rock ya til you're John Belushi'ed, boy
while your hoochie giggles cuz I'm talkin in a goofy voice
its amazing what can make a blitted bitch's coochie moist
now she's woozy... so I'm cruisin on to my next spot
need a spliff? hell, I roll quicker than Sonic the Hedgehog
with the best crops, trust kid, the count couldn't be cleaner
while your weed is even seedier than your demeanour
you'll see, I run a mean game, the cops could never get on it
the rap sheet's clean... hell, I got less dirt than hydroponics
its Homegrown product, and you could never have it, ho
c'mon, I don't need u... I said I needed half an O

"Melancholy Meadow"

Let me expunge these jaded notions, lured by a teasing finger
obscured by misleading judgment, and left alone to linger
hook, line & sinker... you had me from the moment I met you
but took a while before being something I wanted to pursue
it was the summer, I was lonely and needed to look ahead
needed some prospect for romance, and you popped into my head
a different someone, an enigma, with grace and charisma
or maybe I just needed someone to help me get over Melinda
either way, it was easy to build you up to a prominent role
but the fact that you're committed took an onerous toll
toppled this soul, until one drunken night of self-release
when we flirted back and forth, and let my feelings off the leash
sure, I regretted it, second guessed my motives of behaviour
but figured you were aware... since you were an active player
in games of the heart, so I went along with the rest of my week
and held in all the feelings that I was so desperate to speak
but it was destined to fail, who am I to make a girl question her male
cuz even I know how hard it is when a relationship fails
these impatient travails plagued me, playing with 'maybe'
and got enveloped in the fact that your heart could've saved me
but deep down, I guess I knew that you never really understood me
which made the denouement more exciting than the climax ever could be
or would be, but you led me on, c'mon, don't lie to yourself
cuz a big part of you wanted me, admit it, don't hide from yourself
cuz you never would've held my hand, or would've got in my bed
you never even would've let me get the thought in my head
but you're a tease, you divulged that, hell, a girl likes attention
but the tension was heart-wrenching when I discovered your intentions
and I guess that, I left that... thinking of you with less appeal
cuz it was such a cathardic experience... I had nothing left to feel
but I'll deal, ya know, that's just how matters of the heart work
and I'm just a lovesick fool who didn't get to capture your heart first

"The Death of Hope"

..sometimes I forget to breathe...

Hope. I've lost it.
a broken faucet dripping tears like the Okanogan flows in August
just a tightly woven mode to show misappropriated codes of logic
this corroded project grants no token solace for morose involvement
I'd rather forgo it all....

this is spoken honest, I have no motive to conceal the truth
I'll be real with you, hell, I live life like a broken promise
never follow through, I wander aimless, with despondent views
as the guilt of my indifference rendez-vous's with my squandered youth
and ponders truth... like existence has this elusive value
I'm a slave to my conscience, and that's the only God I bow to.
and I vow to, never approach penance for penitence with palms up
cuz I've suffered so much already that my tears could've drawn blood
this calm flood, of emotions that I'm emersed in only worsens
and I'm certain, behind this lead curtain, lays a better person
but being candid... a misplaced concept of self left me branded
I clutch at hope, but my heavy-handed swipes have never landed
I've been stranded... too many times by turn-coat companions
who take advantage... take this man... c'mon, take him for granted
I've raved and ranted, and sometimes its hard to stop the rage
stuck in this noxious stage, that's why I rely on Josh and Paige
they help lock the cage, and abate those fears that seem to surface
they emerge to stop the hurt, when my purpose seems worthless
this perverse circus, somehow lets me know hope is not dead
it is without end... its corny, but I found it, in friends.
the road bends, and our destination seems to be within view
and darkness imbues, hope doesn't bleed, it breathes, within you.
and I contemplate this sick joke with a cigarette and Vanilla Coke
there was always hope, my canvas was just in need of broader strokes

"The real HHDB diss"

I could kill all these kids, so don't even start me
I'll make y'all look more homosequal than Mister Darcy
an art fiend... a backpacker, call this kid what you will
cuz I'll bring mediocre-ness like Crazy Bitch brought the skill
you thought you're ill... until it was paralleled with nik-A
hey nik-A... you're gay, you're gay, you're gay, you're gay
ps. I hate you, like -able I'll give a bad name to Canadians
about as bad as nika wants to bring back the eighties, bitch
there's no KRS... you're obvious like clowning Stam's neck
this is a damn threat, like Senseless against a ham sandwich
no contest, I'll murder fags, with text that hurts the hands
a worthless plan, ps. Darcy... Colin Firth's the man
I'll work ya, man... like PLO, anything that supports the Blacks
I'll distort your point of view, like KILLAMANJARO distorts the facts
jsut to make a point, just like Stamina fakes his tracks
I won't stay on point, like Catastrophe's reputation stays intact
fuckin no-shower, I'm the double H dee bee horn-blower
you're as about popular as TyTania's topical subjects go over
my whoel motive, is to expose you queers from a different angle
and you deserve what you get, like ill nik-A versus Tranquil
get strangled... while I'm I'll swilling Colt forty-five, chillin
ya'll can get serenaded by Stadnent, the cracke dout Robbie Williams
I'll kill em, if you got your name left out... don't worry...
cuz you'll get booted like Grabber from the Tourney, in a hurry

Saint
02-15-2018, 01:33 AM
"Raphaela Stars"

Raphaela stars singing songs, leaping into blankets
A blind man marvel, snatched handbags ripped from strangers
Drunken honesty, untouched promises next to godliness
Bottled rock-bottoms, gobbled up to fill the hospices
And we raise a toast to… the kind of feelings that choke you
The buoyant exploiters set sail dreams by the boatful
Never hopeful, giving the Machiavellian hand a squeeze
Scream abandon me, false tongues fulfilling sycophantasies
Here’s a nickel, dance for me, manifest a monocle vision
With bombs over freshly-combed headed hospital children
Strike and ignite, torch the empires and hold a pagan’s heart
Maintain love’s mercy personally but keep your dagger sharp
Twist the bulb, this Moriarty mystery grips the skull
Capsized eclipse movements flip to resist the invincible
So shine on wretched glory, under what wonderment is
Stuffing money in pigs, ending up bloody and rich
Kill the crops, watch rotten bastards plot the massacres
Static nerves request flesh from Shylock ambassadors
Doomed damsels panhandle once the vandals appear
And Xanadu’s ingénues extinguish candles with tears
Damned reluctance cutting curtains on grand productions
Be a man with firm hands that stands for something
Rippled brine in pickled pride, emerge, live or die
Serpentine words converge… the sickle shines
Warring worlds clash, ideology’s blood spurts
Love’s worth lies between cold eyes and a chunk of earth
Rum-rowdy ruffians converse loudly in rented rooms
The rotted vessels of empty blooms hold their sceptres to truth
Wealth stashed in thresholds, flags merge in a sad dirge
Cracked cans of worms, a frantic search for man’s worth
Pillage the town, soar swiftly when human will is aroused
Tonight we sleep with Raphaela stars and make pillows of clouds

"Fuck the Yankees"

FUCK THE YANKEES! Every single fan’s a damn faggot..
tell me, dudes.. how much did you pay to ride the bandwagon??
and with the money y’all got, you think you’d be heavyweights
pay two hundred million a season.. to play like the Devil Rays
and y’all buy all your players.. that fuckin’ shit’s wack..
some teams have lower payrolls, than y’all pay in luxury tax
no beards or long hair? wow, that discipline’s exceptional..
..ly gay, since it’s club policy to look like a metrosexual
and I gotta mention Derek Jeter.. fo rel, the man’s a star
dude really knows how to clutch singles.. down at the faggot bar
and Giambi’s on steroids.. and I ain’t even clownin’ the cat
but he’s got fuckin’ veins on his neck bigger around than his bat
a red face and a wide neck.. the man looks like the Juggernaut, see..
and that shit’s funnier than the stats put up by Bubba Crosby
got Cabrera to fill-in.. a weak bat and not too hot of a fielder
since Matsui broke his wrist.. to make it look like A-Rod’s or Jeter’s
speaking of Rodriguez, dude’s a monsters with bats..
cuz A-Rod’s his nickname.. and also what he wants in his ass
but he’s a pro.. if you’re talkin’ about his past, he’s savage
now he makes $100 000 for every point on his batting average
fuckin’ 25 mil’ a season.. that contract’s costly as shit..
cuz the dude’s 1/8 of your payroll.. and that’s how often he hits
and your starters are sick.. but y’all pray they stay strong late..
cuz that bullpen is more sickly lookin’ than Joe Torre’s prostate
but Mariano’s pretty dope.. I can say that he’s awesome, dude..
rarely blows a save.. but he’s blown every man in the locker room
and I don’t like the Roots, but the fact they’re philosopher’s clear..
cuz Things Fall Apart.. just look at Randy Johnson’s career..
and if I had to compliment them.. I’d probly panic in a stitch..
so you’re not the gayest franchise in NY.. cuz Steve Francis is a Knick