trap.
01-31-2013, 07:56 PM
Mr. Long Story:
I'm going on vacation starting tommorrow and won't be back in time to write a verse at ALL, so you can deduct me two votes; I'll present my own topic.
A journalist has been framed, tried and convicted of adultery in a foreign country, where they support hanging as a method of justice for such a crime. These are his final words while walking the mile and during his execution...
My passport was a portal into a pass/fail system of justice
Where citizens held a bias while judging a foreign prisoner
The court's decision turned heads...I,too,hoped my words would swing as a
Rope to hang jury...but I guess that it's my position instead
No permission given to explain the situation I'm pinned and faced with
Just a nudge and inch toward the fall out the very window I'm framed in
Dangling...trying to untie the knot in my stomach
While watching the summit beneath my feet as I cough out my lungs in a wad of my vomit
An explorer...an author, I gave my country words of wisdom
Albeit,Collected in less then amicable bouts of yellow journalism
Still, I never wrote a scarlet letter, nor bedded that harlot they've mentioned
But inventing a plot's the conventional method when ending the rot of a medaled detective
Resembling naught but a devil in question, I can hear their whispers and laughter
as descent into this fissure is faster and scent of the mixture considered the after
is potent...hopeless scrambles only choke me further
I'm still now...only my thoughts to scatter about with fervor
This is tantamount to murder, but my hatred for the victimizers
Dwindles as the light I've fixed my eyes on forces itself wider
There's nowhere to turn...
and through all this, I wish I'd've been more open to learn
to live as my death plays out now...
Inhaling the essence of my soul..
rather then wasting these seconds to choke on my words..
Prox:
Topic:
You're at home and happen to catch a glimpse of what looks to be your best friend's photograph on the news. After listening to the report, you're shocked by the news reporter's tell of his death; murdered. Seconds later, your brother bursts in through the front door covered in blood, asking you for asylum from the manhunt awaiting him on the city streets. As you attempt to regain composure and speak through the shock, you open your mouth and scream...
"But Kevin, it's sinful- one my brethren and one in heaven or limbo
The same sin within multiplied these seven by tenfold
A shamed kin begins to seek refuge from the waves of police
Spread the blood on my doorpost now that the plagues is released
and if you're pagan to peace this is no haven to cease
you must move along now, traitor, i'm laden with grief"
"Blood brother, i could seek assistance from none other
my tounge stutters to the thought of making one suffer
I awoke in his bathroom, saw his tomb in the tub
but last i remember, i was consumed at the pub
incidentally, i must have been slipped some memory loss
but haven't got the foggiest, cuz i'm generally tossed
We played hold'em on the green felt with shifty pros
Both knowin' our own scheme dealt us fifty bones
they got the drop an smelled us droppin tells across the table
if we hit the flop, touch the elbow, or glance up at the cable
they'd call us loosely, slip in some dissolving roofies
but ya boy was arrogant, apparently jawing profusely
for the drinks, we rationed a tip, then cashed in the chips
mashed in the whip, an cut out faster than shit..."
"Muthafucka, thought you said you ain't remember the plot
did you trim his limbs and leave em dismembered or not?
now theres a price on your head, your stock gonna soar
were you followed here?"
"I dont think--" (a knock at the door)
I'm going on vacation starting tommorrow and won't be back in time to write a verse at ALL, so you can deduct me two votes; I'll present my own topic.
A journalist has been framed, tried and convicted of adultery in a foreign country, where they support hanging as a method of justice for such a crime. These are his final words while walking the mile and during his execution...
My passport was a portal into a pass/fail system of justice
Where citizens held a bias while judging a foreign prisoner
The court's decision turned heads...I,too,hoped my words would swing as a
Rope to hang jury...but I guess that it's my position instead
No permission given to explain the situation I'm pinned and faced with
Just a nudge and inch toward the fall out the very window I'm framed in
Dangling...trying to untie the knot in my stomach
While watching the summit beneath my feet as I cough out my lungs in a wad of my vomit
An explorer...an author, I gave my country words of wisdom
Albeit,Collected in less then amicable bouts of yellow journalism
Still, I never wrote a scarlet letter, nor bedded that harlot they've mentioned
But inventing a plot's the conventional method when ending the rot of a medaled detective
Resembling naught but a devil in question, I can hear their whispers and laughter
as descent into this fissure is faster and scent of the mixture considered the after
is potent...hopeless scrambles only choke me further
I'm still now...only my thoughts to scatter about with fervor
This is tantamount to murder, but my hatred for the victimizers
Dwindles as the light I've fixed my eyes on forces itself wider
There's nowhere to turn...
and through all this, I wish I'd've been more open to learn
to live as my death plays out now...
Inhaling the essence of my soul..
rather then wasting these seconds to choke on my words..
Prox:
Topic:
You're at home and happen to catch a glimpse of what looks to be your best friend's photograph on the news. After listening to the report, you're shocked by the news reporter's tell of his death; murdered. Seconds later, your brother bursts in through the front door covered in blood, asking you for asylum from the manhunt awaiting him on the city streets. As you attempt to regain composure and speak through the shock, you open your mouth and scream...
"But Kevin, it's sinful- one my brethren and one in heaven or limbo
The same sin within multiplied these seven by tenfold
A shamed kin begins to seek refuge from the waves of police
Spread the blood on my doorpost now that the plagues is released
and if you're pagan to peace this is no haven to cease
you must move along now, traitor, i'm laden with grief"
"Blood brother, i could seek assistance from none other
my tounge stutters to the thought of making one suffer
I awoke in his bathroom, saw his tomb in the tub
but last i remember, i was consumed at the pub
incidentally, i must have been slipped some memory loss
but haven't got the foggiest, cuz i'm generally tossed
We played hold'em on the green felt with shifty pros
Both knowin' our own scheme dealt us fifty bones
they got the drop an smelled us droppin tells across the table
if we hit the flop, touch the elbow, or glance up at the cable
they'd call us loosely, slip in some dissolving roofies
but ya boy was arrogant, apparently jawing profusely
for the drinks, we rationed a tip, then cashed in the chips
mashed in the whip, an cut out faster than shit..."
"Muthafucka, thought you said you ain't remember the plot
did you trim his limbs and leave em dismembered or not?
now theres a price on your head, your stock gonna soar
were you followed here?"
"I dont think--" (a knock at the door)