Dave

[Sn00p]

Dave


Also known as Erebus, UnEtHiCaL, AJ Raw, For Real.
Active from 2007 to the present time.
Posted on Bebo & Facebook (Battle pages), Letsbeef, Hip Hop Ave, Datpiff, Hip Hop Royalty, RapIsAlive, Netcees, Lyrical Threatz, Brick City, Rap Royalty, IllestLyrics.

[EtH]

14/03/07 - 14 Years Old
The Streets
IN THE HOOD THE STREETS ARE RUFF,
HAVE TO DODGE BULLETS, DODGE DRUGS AND STUFF,
THIS EVEN STARTS AT A YOUNG AGE,
USUALLY 14 IS THE TIME A YOUNGSTAH POPS A GUAGE,
BUT THATS ONLY THE FIRST STAGE,
THATS ONLY THE FIRST PAGE,
CHAPTER TWO,
NOW WHAT DOES A TEENAGER DO,
WHEN HES ROBBED FOR HIS SHOES,
HE CAN CALL ON HIS BROTHER,
WHO HAVE SWORN TO PROTECT ONE ANOTHER,
BUT HE KNOWS HIS BROTHER WILL NOT SURVIVE,
SO HE SITS ON THE STEPS AND CRYS,
WONDERIN WHAT TO DO NOW,
WITH NO SHOES, HIS MOTHER WILL THROW HIM OUT,
HIS PAPPA WILL BEAT HIM,
PARENTS WONT BELIEVE HIM,
THEY'LL THINK HE SOLD THEM FOR CRACK,
OR A MONEY STACK,
SO HE SELLS DRUGS TO RAISE FUNDS,
BUT THIS ONLY LEADS TO USE OF GUNS,
SO NOW HE'S SIXTEEN,
SELLIN DRUGS JUST TO GET BY COS THE STREETS ARE MEAN,
HE GOES TO HIS BIGGEST DEAL YET,
ONLY TO GET SCREWED AND TAKE TWO IN THE CHEST,
ENDS UP IN HOSPITAL,
CAN'T PAY THE COSTS AND BILLS,
SO IS LEFT TO DIE,
OUT IN NEW YORKS EYE,
CAN STAND ON HIS FEET,
WELL, THATS THE STREETS!!



14/04/07 - 14 Years Old
All The Girls
YO WE ALWAYS RESPECT A GANGSTA,
BUT WE GOTTA SUMTIMES SAY THANKS MA,
ALL THE FINE WIMEN TREATED LIKE MEAT,
YOU DO IT TO, BUT A WOMAN BROUGHT YA TO UR FEET,
WETHA YOU A SLEEZE BAG,
OR A G LETTIN UR CHAIN SWAG,
YOU GOTTA PAY YOUR BILLS,
SO WHY NOT RESPECT THA GIRLS,
NOW I'LL TELL YA BOUT AMY WRIGHT,
ALL THE GUYS SAW A PRETY SIGHT,
CALLED HER A TEASE, COS SHE NEVER PUT OUT,
ALL THE NIGGAZ WANTED TO SCORE AND DIG OUT,
BUT SHE ALWAYS SAID NO,
RESPECTED HER DAD, AND SWORE TO BE NO HOE,
BUT ONE NIGGA ON SNOW,
WANTED TO SHOW,
AMY THAT HE COULD MAKE HER SO,
PLEASED,
SHE SAID NO BUT HE SLEEZED,
AND SNEEZED,
ALL THE COKE FROM HIS NOSE,
AMY GOT ON HER TOES,
TRIED TO RUN OFF BUT HE CAUGHT UP QUICK,
BENT HER DOWN, AND GOT OUT HIS DICK,
SHE WAS A VIRGIN AND HE MADE HER BLEED,
WHEN SHE SCREAMED HE THREATENED HE'D,
HURT HER MORE,
TAKE A PICTURE AND TELL HER DAD SHE WAS A HOE,
SO,
SHE HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO KEEP QUIET,
HE GOT HIS TRICK, AND NEVA HAD TO BY IT,
AS EXPECTED HE WORE NO GLOVE,
SHE GOT PREGNANT B4 LOVE,
HAD THE BABY SHE CONCIEVED FROM RAPE,
HER FATHER WAS DISPLEASED AND BEGAN TO HATE,
BELIEVIN SHE WAS A LITTLE SLUT,
SLAPPED HER IN THE FACE AND BEGAN TO CUT,
HER LOVELY BROWN HAIR OFF,
SAYIN SHE'LL NEVA FIND LOVE,
SO SHE'S ALL ALONE, WIT A BABY IN HER HAND,
I CANT UNDERSTAND,
AND ITS AGAINST MY WILL,
WHY WE CANT RESPECT THE GIRLS,
SO IM SAYIN,
TO NIGGAS PAYIN,
FOR SEX,
PLEASE RESPECT,
A WOMAN,
SHE MABY A PROSTITUTE BUT SHE HAST TO DO TO MEN,
WHAT A MAN TOLD HER TO DO,
DO TO YOU,
SO PLEASE IF YOU CAN,
UNDERSTAND,
INSIDE SHE IS BEING KILLED,
SO NIGGAZ, PLEASE REASPECT THE GIRLS!!



17/04/07 - 14 Years Old
The Bissnas
WE START 1, 2 CHECK THE FLOW,
ITS DIEIN OUT CAUSE THSE NIGGZ CANT GO,
THE DISTANCE,
REQUIRED IN THIS BUISSNAS,
ITS A TOUGH OLD GAME,
FULL OF HUMILIATION AND SHAME,
MAKING MIXTAPES,
MAKING, MISTAKES,
HAVING TO PLEA IN THE FRONT OF PRODUCERS,
PEOPLE WHO HAVE WITNESSED FAKE HOODSTERS,
AND BELIEVE,
YOU AINT NOTIN YOUR AVERAGE STEVE,
TELL YA TO GET UP OFF YOUR KNEES,
AND LEAVE THEY OFFICE,
LOOK AT THE TAPE AND TOSS IT,
ANOTHER DREAM CRUSHED,
ANOTHER DESIRE A BUST,
MAKIN MANY ARTISTS INSANE,
THEY CANT DEAL WITH THE HEARTACHE AND PAIN,
BUT IF YA GOT THE DETERMINATION,
YOULL BE A HIP HOP SENSATIN,
ITLL ALL COME AT ONCE LIKE 7 CHRISTMAS',
ITS CALLED THE RAP BUISSNAS,



17/04/07 - 14 Years Old
Tribute to 2pac, Eazy E and Biggie
YO, THE RAP OF TODAY, IS FAR TOO COMMERTIALISED,
WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO THE DAYS, OF CHANGES AND HIPNOTISE,
I MISS THE DAYS, WHEN TUPAC DROPPED 'ALL EYES ON ME',
AND THE DAYS, WHEN BIGGIES WORDS HIPNOTISED ME,
BUT TODAY, WE TELL THEM FOOLS,
FUCK NEW AGE RAP, ITS ALL ABOUT THE OLD SCHOOL,
TUPAC, BORN IN SEVENTY ONE,
HE WAS THE EXCEPTION TO THE PHRASE 'IM LIVING FOR ONE',
HE LIVED FOR FAMILY, AND HE LIVED FOR FRIENDS,
HE BROUGHT RELIGION TO RAP AND SPREADED RAP TH THE CHRISTENS,
HE WAS ACCUSED, OF KILLIN KIDS AND RAPING DIMES,
BUT FUCK IT, HE WAS THE BEST RAPPER OF ALL TIME,
HE WAS THE MOST FEARED,
TOOK THE GAY OUTTA GETTIN YOUR NOSE PEIRCED,
HE LIVED FOR HIS MOMMA AND HE LIVED A BLOODS LIFE,
HE BROUGHT MEANNING TO THE PHRASE 'THUG LIFE',
THE HATE U GIVE LITTLE INFATNTS, FUCKS EVERYBODY,
I WANT SOMEONE TO STAND UP AND HONOUSTLY SAY, HIS RAPS WERE SHODY,
BECAUSE, IF YOU DO, YOU AINT NO JUDGE,
HES ON TOP,AINT NO ROOM TO BUDGE,
TUPAC, MAY HIS BODY, LAY IN PEACE,
HIS MIND LIVES ON, THOUGH HIS BODY IS DECEASE,
B.I.G,
HIPNOTSED ME,
WITH HIS FLASHY WAYS,
FOR DAYS AND DAYS,
BEST TRACKS AND BEST ALBUMS LIKE THE BIGGIE DUETS,
IF YA FUCK WIT THE SMALLS THEN DEATH IS WHAT YOULL GET,
BIGGIE SMALLS, STANDING TALLEST,
BARLEY ANY MUTHAPHUKA KNOWS HES CHRISTOPHER WALLICE,
HES AWORLDWIDE STAR, BY THE NAME OF BIGGIE SMALLS,
NOTORIOUS BIG TOO, BUT HIS BEST DAYS, WERE NOT THEM ALL,
HE KICKED IT, AND DROPPED THE BEST SHIT,
BUT NOT WHEN RECORDING 'KICK IN THE DOOR', HIS DOOR WAS KICKED,
TUPAC, SHOT FIVE TIMES THEN STILL LIVING,
BLAMED BIGGIE, SO HE WAS IN FOR THE KILLING,
WHEN PAC DROPPED HIT EM UP, BIGGIE WAS OVER,
'WHO SHOT YA', CAME FIRST, BUT THE BEAT WAS MUCH SLOWER,
HIT EM UP WAS LIKE LIGHTNIG TO THE HEAD,
LEFT BIGGIES CAREER LEFT FOR DEAD,
BIGGIE DIED, NO LOGER ON TOP,
BUT THAT DONT MEAN, WE'LL FORGET BIG POPPA,
AND NOW, TO THAT NIGGA THATS RUTHLESS,
SPIT THE BEST RYHMES EVEN WHEN HES TOOTHLESS,
IT WAS THAT NWA LEADER,
NOT MUCH OF A GOOD DEEDER,
BUT STILL LEFT THE FANS BEGGIN FOR MORE,
LET THEM SCREAM HIS NAME FROM THE SECOND HE OPENED THE DOOR,
'WE WANT EAZY', SHOWED US, WHOS KING,
LOOKED DRE IN THE EYE AND SED 'NUTIN BUT A GAY THING',
HE DROPPED 'REAL MUTHAPHUKIN Gz' AND LEFT DRE HUMILIATED,
DRE TOOK TIME OFF, AND REABILITATED,
EAZY TOOK DEATH ROW, BY HIMSELF,
EAZY LOOKED ICE CUBE UP, AND SAID 'CHECK YO SELF',
EAZY MADE NWA, AND TOOK IT APART,
HELL CRUISE IN THE 64 AND PULL YOUR CAR,
SOUTHSIDE HUB CITY, RAP EXTRORDINAIRE,
WENT ON K-DAY AND WAS CROWNED 'LORD OF AIR',
HAS HIS NAME ON A PLACK, HUNG UP BY HULIO G,
EAZY E,
WAS THE COOLEST G,
RIP,
EAZY, PAC AND B.I.G!!!!



24/09/07 - 15 Years Old
Keep Rap Alive
I'm sick of seeing theses TROOPS WIT GATS
believing they are the TRUTH OF RAP
but i dont wanna see GROUPS LIKE THAT!
we have to fight and DECREASE THESE COMMUNITIES,
why cant we just rap in PEACE AND UNITY?
we have to delete these BEASTS WITH IMMUNITY
to DISS TRACKS and the beasts who INSIST THAT
without them then we would MISS RAP!
but i want to at least GIVE IT A TRY AND
if we're just SWIMMING IN DRY LAND
we can reinstate then! Yo we're just LIVING TO DIE MAN
so lets KEEP IT REAL; no hate, its just that PEOPLE FEEL
that they must get off their FEET AND KNEEL
and live in the SHADOWS AND PRAY TO A PAST RACE
of rap! But i ADD FLOW OF RAY AND ASK TO MAKE
our own era and path! Raps like a chocolate GUEATO AND WE SAY
AND PASS GRACE but forget, lets MAKE OUR OWN PATH
and TAKE THE KNOWN PAST away and CREATE AND SHOW RAP
as a MODERN THING like track suits, rims and SOVERIGN RINGS!
Ima make sure raps alive nd NOT BURN-ING!



2007 = 15 Years Old
Untitled
Do you think you could Keep-it-stronger as American Soldiers Beat-your-daughter and watch on as families line up to meet-their-slaughter. See I whitnessed this, so I Ask-You, to imagine shanty towns, bamboo walls and thatched-roofs, sick children, hurt mothers, and Dads-Too, try to leave it all behind but they cant get Past-You, the Last-Troop. Open fire begins and hits Mum-In-The-Limb, child looks on as blood Comes-From-Her-Skin. Daddy holds him close, and tells his son to start Running-From-Him, walk to the father and put the Gun-On-His-Chin. Does this man have no Right-To-A-Hope but look beyond his face to see a Sight-That-Revlots, his son with a Knife-To-His-Throat Frightened-And-Choked. I feel like its my Right-To-Provoke the choice of my men, but his Life-Was-Revoked. I was always told that Killing-Brings-Peace but now contemplate wether the true Villain-Is-East.



29/03/08 - 15 Years Old
Family
We all got love for our fams,
sisters the best and brothers the man,
whether in a club or a gang,
shed blood for ya fam,
put gloves on ya hands,
and punch away any pain or heartache,
even the bravest, hard mates,
cant be saved, they guard breaks,
on the day the dark takes,
over they mind and causes them to diss your mother,
or hit your brother,
this another, form of rap,
topic aint on the gats,
focus is feelings, grans and uncles have showed us in being,
good people unlike dads quotas on beering,
broke us, now fearing,
is it too late to build bridges,
he still twitches,
after the big fight,
says it served that bitch right,
it was a sick sight,
so i knocked him down, head hit lights,
now its wide,
paramedics said he mightn't get better,
now 7years on i frightened ill get a,
knock back, from dad,
i though that, hes not mad,
he clutched my hand,
even such a man,
under the worst circumstances can love they fams!



06/08/08 - 16 Years Old
Difference
Its important to think outside the box,
don't confine your thoughts,
shine but not follow the signs till off the roads and tracks,
best knowing that the dopest raps are original to the lowest cats,
no fame and glam and still remain the man,
no need to claim a gang or lies of being restrained and tagged,
i don't mean underground or mainstream,
these sounds remain seen but crowds of lame teens,
bounce to games beats and the crown is greatly diminished
and tattered beef that's finished and started given the chart list a bad name and rep,
the name is wrecked, so as the songs rearrange,
make sure to include a phenomenal change,
and an honourable name, instead of some horrible fame



06/08/08 - 16 Years Old
All Or Nothing
I aint here to be reppin a crew or acceptin a truce,
in a second or two ill be lettin it loose and tellin the truth like a confessional booth,
but instead directed at you,
but first i have to shout this aint nutin to brag about i might be laughin now,
but at the times i was halfed and doubt that id be standing now,
when my bro died i thought to continue his life, jump into the fight,
grinnin wit knives, and go drivin off into the night,
and start shit with anyone whos flag swing to the right,
involved in a war needin to be solved in the core not assault by the store,
but as a kid whos ballin remorse aint sutin i saw in my course,
pushed away friends to hang with the crew,
a gang in the hood packin the twos and bangin at dudes,
most teens be actin to shoot, reinactin with fruit, blastin bananas while adults laughin at you,
but we were the scum of the street, gunnin the teens,
people cant look at us like sun on the beach,
a few years past now i was runnin wit beats,
my moms was lovin to see her son off the heat,
after a few tapes my shit got noticed,
i remember a comment "that dudes sick that wrote this",
signed in new york and thought id made it,
going to parties with the hottest A list,
then after a fight id gotten hated,
id wrote a few tracks and forgot to tape it,
and sent lyrics away, reply "thats not a tape kid",
i often waited for a shot to make it,
but after a while it was god forsaken,
so i sat back and contemplated over my life,
and now i gotta say that, ive hurt people and seek redemption,
but too late so now i keep the present a clean and pleasant,
place to leave the headache back in the past,
so if your a cat with task of actin an ass,
so just read this and pass on the gats,
hit me back, i shouldn't be having to ask



11/02/09 - 16 Years Old
Hood Tales
Heres the stories of the streets,
those who aint found the glory of the beats,
they got hopes but not what john dorian would dream,
more like what time the orient would leave,
and never return, heres some kids that were burned:-
lil marc was living to earn, now he sits in an urn,
see it whet down when he handled some gear,
he put it in a sock where him mamma wont peer,
every friday a man would appear,
kids 13 so he cant move shit,
explains it to the dealer but the man would flip,
see he expects more than he gave the kid,
now kids hating this, he should be out playin' n' shit,
but since he from the hood hes afraid to bitch,
see these dealers known to fool with figures,
then make a kid pull a trigger,
but when marc spoke out, a car drove round,
kids strartled now,
cause he aint clearing his cheques when being in debt,
and he aint putting b's into necks,
so the dealers drove round and put 3 in his chest...
and lil tre dog is sixteen years,
he aint seen death yet but kids been near,
he started off with a plan, but got involved with a gang,
and started spraying up blocks,
and now he looks to lay in a box,
cause when they had his back,
he would act the mack, but when he blasts a cap,
them knucks rat, the future now looks awful with this path,
because with one mistake hes got the mongels on his ass,
kid coulda been a surgeon or doctor,
but now some bikers huntin on choppers,
to fuck with him proper, and when they say to they'll hurt you,
they'll and with no fam'ly to turn to, l
ooks like they'll be burning him dry,
lil tre dog looks certain to die...
see in the hood it aint all producing and writing,
its doing yah time nd, moving yah life with,
hopes that your kids wont be doing it like them!



13/05/09 - 17 Years Old
Routine Stop
Set up a checkpoint and respect was gave,
No congestion made,
We read their plates,
Checked tax and then they get away,
Except the day we stopped an Escalade,
No tax so we asked the driver to step away,
A man of a different ethnic race,
Seemed agitated and he hated that we waited to catch him racing,
He exclaimed that we racist,
Insults like cracker taken,
Haters of black formation,
He started kicking up havoc,
Spitting and savage,
He brought it, I lost it, I said 'Nigger you've had it',
I predicted he's mad and apologized for giving him static,
But he stood back and whipped out the 'matic,
Looked me in the eye, pulled the trigger and blasted.
The moral is, you can't be sure,
And copy me, get shot and be killed at the hands of Tupac Shakur.



20/05/09 - 17 Years Old
Historical Repeater
The original Americans in residence of African inheritance,
May have been sitting on the elephants and lacking in intelligence,
But excluding the position of a president, where are the evident developments?
We are still fearing terrorists and lack in an elegance,
This is still a nation that is god forsaken,
Once black, now Caucasian, but it’s still a location,
Where the rulers are making money from breaking promises made and,
It’s gonna be taken by capitalist persuasion,
The only transformation is we believe our patrons were amazing,
Smashing faces of bastid Asians,
I quote Regan saying ‘’Before I answer your questions, I have an opening statement’’,
Which is, things are changing? It’s an imitation,
How can we enforce limitations of immigration if we stole this placement?
Soon as we step in we wreck in a second and set up collections,
Now they’re our tenants with no independence,
How do you reckon we getting advanced when we letting repeats in Iraq,
Learning our lesson?
From then ‘till now, what’s the difference?
No resistance when leaders insisting we embark on missions of demolition,
Examples; the war of independence and the declaration,
We are forced to fight in a reformation by leaders expectations,
In comparison to our garrisons of troops in foreign lands,
Enter with sword in hand to claim lord and lamb,
As leaders award the man who torches clans,
Here’s an American confession;
We aren’t pressing to end our political depression,
The discretion of their possessions,
Just like the founders, who placed bouncers abusing their powers,
And just like our leader, who attempts to keep our moral fibres cheaper,
By playing the historical repeater.



2009 - 17 Years Old
Love Within The Forest
It's disarming my faith to have the knowledge and know that in the darkness she waits,
I can't help that a part of me hates that the figures of evil rise in the army she makes,
Her servants lurk beneath the shadows, with every action I take, they're receiving ammo,
In the distance I hear them scream sopranos as they attack my heart and i feel the arrows,
It's cupid enraged and in one action she makes me feel worthless, a putrid disgrace,
It's when she reveals she can't look to my face, this force of evil has grew with the hate,
Search the stars of the Horus, but with her head on charge I'm marked by the Taurus,
I feel we can't hide, the darkness explore us, covered by trees, my heart is the forest,
With only some beams of light representing the love that's present and the peace of life,
But it changes when the beasts in sight; the sun departs and the habitants freeze at night,
It’s making me sweat as while she’s taking my soul she’s also taking my breath,
It’s creating a stress as each day I wonder if she’s sent from heaven or the angel of death,
Where I look, I’m seeing reminders of everywhere she goes she has her demons behind her,
A cancer breathing inside her and I know her spirit exists, and I believe I can find her,
Suddenly she appears in the distance and I must conquer her but fear her resistance,
It seems that she is receiving her mission, I call upon her but she doesn’t listen,
I can hear the wind pass through the cracks and I call her name but she wont answer me back,
She hears her heart, her master is black and this anticipation is like an asthma attack,
I have a feeling that she wants to leave and the black decay now a gone disease,
This sudden euphoria has me on my knees as now the evil emerged beyond the trees.



12/06/10 - 18 Years Old
The Time I Spent In Hell
My experience? All of it speaks to me, and my time in hell, honestly weakened me,
What you can you expect the offer to heathens be? Good and evil, altering frequently,
Brushed aside, they forget about what's little, they spoke a thousand riddles,
I never understood, I plea the sound's acquittal, but instead, hell splits down the middle,
Inside, what's frozen melts, no choice but to hide the tears and hold myself,
Others approach to help, but the conclusion you find; you're always alone in hell,
After a while, I won't lie and say the pain isn't soar, but when it's done taking it's course,
The hurt fades from the shore, but it always sticks when your parents divorce.



12/06/10 - 18 Years Old
Misguided By Faith
A man is ahead, walking my way, he stops me still and an offer is made
This stranger seems honest as day, too trusting? It seems he’s gotten my faith
A spirit exists within and enters me, a new friend I’ve made or the enemy?
I assume and trust the inner energy, and what’s beyond? I ascend and see
I am brought to a man who begins touching my thighs, he’s rough and I cry
I am told if I run then I die, he’s turns me around and then covers my eyes
I am abused by the hands of blood as I overhear them say that the task is done
This figure I see is masked above, but for some reason it’s kidnapped my trust
The experience is taking my breath, have I now encountered the angel of death?
But a revelation surfaces and aches in my head, perhaps indeed the pain is a test
I try to hide the fear, staged with the actors and the doubts I have, I omit the answers
Must I really tolerate this disaster? And are the screams I yell an encrypted password?
Is this really how my new friends handle hearts? I try to hide the tears and the scars
Now I sit secluded, can’t see past the dark, I ascended too high, peel my hands apart
Thinking back, this choice was not one I would choose to make, who’s to blame?
Could it be that I grew this way? Now kidnapped and alone, abused by faith
My suspicious then circumvents me, I seek the answers as for once I’m ready
True, the damage has been done already but at least I realise that I am one of many
I am independent, I must control my mind, this belief I had, I’ve never known the type
I feel for those, the truth has not exposed inside, I walk away, the blindfold behind.



13/06/10 - 18 Years Old
Tree Of Interpretation
I seek for a place to meditate and I hope, to find a tree which sprouts vegetation below,
And then in front of my eyes, so amazing; an Oak, enriched with colours as displays of it's growth,
It would seem it has been forgot and it shows, others that know, are calling it old,
With it's leafy defence, the interior is not often exposed, but there is evidence of the solace it holds,
I'm at one with nature, certain I'm right, as the centre of the tree gives birth to the light,
I've experienced a lot of hurt in my life, but now together me and this tree, in the circle of life,
It's forgotten presence is marked by it's many battles, this tree has fought depressions,
Been taught it's lessons, but can't keep on progressing as harsh times await, Autumn beckons,
Once fulfilled with vibrant colours, this grey and dull life expects to die in gutters,
As I sit in contemplation, I discover; this tree is asking it's self, 'can I survive another?'
This tree stands tall, patient for cover, from the storms ahead, awaiting it's mother,
But nature is gone, it's facing the thunder, alone and cold, an now it's fading it's colours,
The only friendship, leaves on it's arms, make me, a sceptic, believe in it's heart,
The fantastical rainbow disappears in the dark, the only protection is gone, I'm seeing it's bark,
Now I feel it's regret, and worse is; that it could now face the decent of curtains,
Unfulfilled in life and now expects the furnace, and can't even discover, if it possessed a purpose,
If it was receiving it’s goal, it was intercepted, and the end was near, in fact within seconds,
No future forwards, darkness sits in the present, the circle? The diameter shrinks, the ring rejected,
I sit here and lay on the roots, wondering if I want this magical creation renewed,
But alas we find, it was never making it through, and thus failing to give meditation a use.



25/06/10 - 18 Years Old
The Age Of Many Faces
I feel like I’m stuck on the shelf, staring at where I was once above and I fell,
And submerged in shadows, with something to tell, looking up at myself,
So start listening close, maybe advice is hidden and shown encrypted in code,
Sunshine watched as I leapt into the cold, leaving behind my glistening gold,
As I jumped, I released from life as I leave behind a career of height,
Now gazing up I see the light but it would seem I hide beneath in night,
I wanted to be street, and now I stand at the level, my life brought it’s eulogy,
And forgotten to be neat, a mess, as I see the window of opportunity,
Now, too far to reach, originality stood against me, happiness parts with me,
I barley survive upon heartless beats and now lay pray to the darkness’ feast,
I thought ‘This is the hour, where man becomes legend, with mystical powers’,
Up in the sky, I once lived in the towers, now fight the shadows to resist the devour,
I now hate the person I tried to be, leapt out with open arms, I would scream ‘admire me!’
Those who lied to me? I feel stupid for missing the daggers behind adviser’s teeth,
I used to lift the crowds with influential speeches, but who listens now?
Now I’m missing out as my life smashed to pieces when it hit the ground.



27/06/10 - 18 Years Old
Heart Burn
Flames? Usually show desire, but this time they attacked, when I was broke and tired,
Awakened to expose a liar, but still no detection, seemingly a smokeless fire,
I was too slow; I should have seen it first, now ashes remain beneath in urns,
Should have come out early, like a foetus’ birth, I was not playing with fire, but leaving burned,
More than possessions are taken from me, to many, the flames, are amazing to see,
Out spills the blaze on the streets, an old flame seemingly, has created the heat,
Previous history had gone away, and so long without it, I’d forgotten hate,
Now I struggle to think what to say, when I first found out, I saw a blaze,
Not guns or knives, I fear the weapon of hearts, I kept my head in the dark,
The life I led was a farce, there was no contact made, but I still left with the scars,
I was asleep in bed, thinking all was well, oblivious to what creeped instead,
Came out alive, but leaving dead, looking back behind me, and just seeing red,
How can you feel, where your life is given away, this time there’s no forgiving the blaze,
I just lay in solitude, needing to get rid of the pain, but find it hard to extinguish the flames.
---
When I created a goal, I knew I would get it, not thinking of, who was effected,
This time however, I stood to regret it, where I once called a home, I look for the exit,
Look ahead, but all I see is black, I can’t find the direction, It seems I need a map,
Once a happy place where I leave my hat, now my surroundings have me feeling trapped,
Suddenly, flames rose and beckoned, I stare to the future, and can’t help loathe the present,
I rehearsed the plan, but the commotion wrecked it, leaving me with no directions,
At first I had disbelief, thought my hearts lying, I thought start trying or start dying,
What life is selling we aren’t buying, I thought it was fine, just innocent sparks flying,
The good has hidden, showing the bad, and I can’t wait for this to be enclosed in the past,
I’ve left things broken and cracked, I was standing over gasoline, holding the match,
No words can help, I have nothing to say, I had a chance, and jumped to escape,
Now am I truly free? When I erupted the blaze, it all blew up in my face,
But this isn’t harmless, I can’t even start to paint the picture, not a gifted artist,
My action, I guess it was heartless, many lives destroyed, when I committed arson.



28/06/10 - 18 Years Old
The Journey
My existence fears the finishing blow, I sit holding myself, reluctant to submit to the cold,
In the littlest boat, which is nearly swept into the flow if not for rocks, that won’t relinquish control,
Preventing demise, the rocks I lay on, commit to re-enactments of docking stations,
Alas, the grasp lost its patience and I leave behind my once strong foundation,
But infinity, we fail to see, the safe entwinement ends, and gently, they release,
Unsure and shaken, I had never prepared to leave and so embark on a journey, to sail the sea,
Ahead I’m shown; a dark mansion of sorts, in which many reside, yet all have felt alone,
None made a decision to select their home, and from here, the house, is seemingly set in stone,
I doubt my ability to make it a home, this is the location the flow is aiming my boat,
I build an assumption; the place is vacant and cold, the crisp chill inside embraces your sole,
This building in which I’m aimed in the tide, I suspect to kill everything remaining inside,
My transport, a place I’m unable to hide, is all between me and the water, ironically saving my life,
My head is pained, this whole situation has ate my brain and I’m almost left deranged,
My conclusion is born; that death awaits, can only hope that the flow’s direction changed,
But I fail to strengthen my clutch to the hope, now I can’t leave, I’m stuck in this flow,
Although it’s too late, I realise that when I jumped in the boat, the destination was right in front of my nose,
I arrive and I guessed correctly, no heat in sight, disgusted to see; it’s unclean inside,
I wish to turn around, this place I leave behind, but my landlord would stop me, the lease is signed,
The boat had lasted, although my heart had sunk, the house is covered in marks of scum,
The walls charred and burnt, I had no baggage when I arrived, but knew I’d depart with some,
Life is the river, I die if I fall into it, and the boat is the drugs that I’m on and doing,
My child, which was taken from me, is the rocks I stood on, and the house I went to; prostitution.



29/06/10 - 18 Years Old
Out Of Control
*At the Party*
“Do it man, do it!”
“Think I should?”
“Hell yeah man, it’ll be awesome”
“Alright….”
It started, the key was sitting in the ignition, he was going out to ‘seek ambition’,
I said ‘Stop, you need to listen’, he went with bleeding visions, effects of a speed addiction,
As he went off, he caught the curb, I thought ‘no need to worry, it’s not his first!’,
But this time when he got his buzz it had gotten worse, outside to him; he saw a blur,
It must’ve been the pace, I feared that next time I’m dressed up, it’ll be his wake,
He was gone, you should have seen his face, focused to go out and meet his fate,
A storm brewed, I knew it would fight his traction, he gets possessed like it’s magic,
I caught him up and celebrated, but was this the night to have it, ahead I see lights are flashing,
Now I ask you this, your deepest friendship, are you really sure do you value it?
I looked him straight, yelled ‘I demand you quit’, we were right next to him, he passed too quick,
He crashes, it burns him, I thought maybe it would die out, as it happens it worsens,
We were just laughing and cursing, but I should have known, he was on the path of destruction,
I saw it coming, why didn’t I shout and call? He was led on by the crowd’s assault,
He had a problem, so he went out to solve, facing head on to bring down the wall,
But instead he hit it, now a silence broke out, we watched on with no sound,
It lifts as folk shout, he wanted to open his mind, but his body closed down,
I once trusted CPR in creating respiration, I thought of it as was of taking medication,
Fat chance, funny, he wanted to face his revelation, but now, will never make his destination.



29/06/10 - 18 Years Old
Broken Spirit
Nathan, once a sufferer of his father’s awful abuse..
Abusing both Nathan and the alcohol he consumes..
Undeniable damage, in his own domain; he’s afraid..
Until Nathan manifests a friend to relieve his pain..
Ricocheting the hurt, his friend removes his dad’s hits..
Sheltering exposed emotions; he endures the damage..
Now his counterpart takes his place, crying in bed..
Building up a burning anger, only satisfied by revenge..
Late at night, he creeps to the father and covers his head..
Patiently awaiting the stillness of his stomach and chest..
He became a murderer then on, while his dad’s asleep..
Now the fulfilled child must split the scene, like the personality..
Though escape is impossible, whether or not he is trying to run..
Nathan disappears after he finds what his trusted ally had done..
Now he sits holding his knees, crying with laughter..
The original, Nathan, laid the rest, he died with his father..



13/07/10 - 18 Years Old
Lost At Sea
At the beginning, I had never listened to those who submitted to hopes,
I preferred to live in the know, keeping it simple, I would drift in the flow,
Living out a prophesy, I have suspicions that life has forgotten me,
Sinking down, the waters deep, another sole becoming lost at sea,
My life has succumbed to slaughter, forgetting that you are a son or daughter.
If only there was footholds under water, but from my vision, there’s none on offer,
You once stood on the dock but the problem was, you never saw the drop,
Now consumed by the water’s talks, both in the ocean and on the rocks
You wish to redo the mess but at this point, it’s too late to rescue the dead,
It’s certain, just don’t lose your head at the signs of the storm, which brews ahead,
Now at least, I understand what the problems are bound to be,
I hit the ground asleep, knowing my own choice is what’s drowning me,
My goals never stepped in sight, never birthing a child, or seen my wedding night,
Now I take my last breaths of life, for now, I’m still breathing, but I’m dead inside,
Last thoughts before my relapse are like “I repent, and hope, to see the after life”,
Under the pressure, I collapse inside, only to feel arms that grasp me tight,
I push my head from below, feeling a desperate breath in my throat,
The repent I had shown, has me pulled to safety, my belief strengthens the rope,
I had, survived and, realise that it was due to the belief, that I had,
And now that I’ve realised that, I can dream to set foot on dry land,
I was lifted then, thrown on the ground, as I still submit to death,
Taken back as my lips were met, CRP given, so I could live again,
I thought my path would aim to hell, as my life was a mere case and shell,
I asked a name, and my saviour said “I am your faith….you just saved yourself”.



14/07/10 - 18 Years Old
Releasing The Clutch
I won't validate the existence of my visions, as I'm afraid,
Each floor rises age and each step, another accolade,
The lighting, the blue shades are borrowed to portray my sorrow,
I fear what awaits tomorrow as this woman tries to make me follow,
Below in the shadows, she's feasted in as beneath she slips,
I'm deceased within, clutching the banister, tempted to release the grip,
Temptation grew around and I need my morals to secure me now,
Damaged, until a cure is found this demon below is trying to lure me down,
She enters the dark, now engulfed, yet his silhouette isn't far,
My choice remains, rips my head into parts, she descends with my heart,
I'm trying to focus a blur, my head or my heart, I've broken the trust,
Go with my sense, or go with the love, should I sin in a moment of lust,
I doubt that I can't release the problem until she's forgotten,
Is this feeling common? I know that I'm gone forever, if I reach the bottom,
I wish to part with this love, let it fly away like my heart was a dove,
I look how far I have come, climbed all steps, to find only darkness above.



06/09/10 - 18 Years Old
Light Of My Life
A beauty contained, for her imminent escape; she holds her breath,
In awe of her captivating glow, wrapped behind her golden dress,
She is a vision to me, without her; I am blind and strayed,
She turns night to day, her ominous shine helps me find my way,
However, I consider the damage, and proceed nervously,
Allegedly, her sole purpose is to drain me of my energy,
Yet her beams enslave me, I'm implored to gaze,
My predicament; the more I look, the more I'm pained,
This is as when she's bringing her wonder, she's bringing the hurt,
And every time we touch, only I will witness the burn,
I conclude as in my peripheral, she's shining so bright,
Unknowing to her position; the light of my life.



08/09/10 - 18 Years Old
Beauty Is In The Eyes...
Bodies are safes, in which we are not needing the key,
As when you look at the eyes closely, locked feelings are freed,
I know that you’re afraid that I’ll hide away and make a wink of you,
But whether I’m behind the lid or not, I’ll be next to you,
We seem identical, such a partner couldn’t be harder to find,
And with you gone, you’d be scarring my site; I’d be partially blind,
Together, our purpose keeps us, a part of each person’s features,
Inside our eyes there lies a pupil, the world a teacher,
And we can learn together, perhaps behind sunglasses, a clever disguise,
Sharing charismatic colours which consistently spill from the skies,
Behind us, unintentionally, we repeatedly redo what’s undone,
But when we open up together, it feels as two become one,
Sometimes you’re cross with me, and that appearance erupts talkers,
But if I am unable to hear it, we both become much stronger,
In relation to our goals, we both become bigger when focusing in,
Because of you, I’m reluctantly pouring out the emotion within,
The lids under our instruction, you make it caress me and give me a cuddle,
My greatest comfort; you were withstanding it with me to witness the struggle,
This put aside; you share my self-sabotaging natures so when we look at lights;
Both pained, it saturates and forces us to avert our gaze…when the futures bright.



10/09/10 - 18 Years Old
The Thane of Atheism
Macbeth, such striking nobility noted by whom he has butchered,
Yet his level of innocence indicated when the witches foresee his future,
Regarding his ruler, Duncan, their words limit his days on the earth,
Macbeth will dethrone the man his life has been donated to serve,
Throughout the air, Banquo’s suspicions arise; he is now aware,
Yet Macbeth is intrigued, the situation solicits the theory; ‘foul but fair’,
Lady Macbeth, the cerebral serpent, then will promise her man,
The wildest riches, held in place as long as the prophecy stands,
Banquo, the king’s noble soldier, refusing to disobey his orders,
Senses the witch’s manipulation on the Thane of Cawdor will create dishonour,
The witch’s plague, leaves Banquo’s dreaming hot and restless,
So he warns Macbeth of ‘betrayal’s deepest consequences’,
Disregarding that, Macbeth proceeds with moral amnesty,
Figuring out how he can reside in the castle, without the king’s hospitality.
Now, standing above the unexpecting body, Macbeth contemplates the demise,
Duncan awakes to arise, eyes startled and filled with vacant surprise,
Duncan; a very capable leader as his army grew, a martyr too,
Macbeth plunges down on the dagger, which splits his heart in two.
The witches; the subliminal messaging which the media’s hiding,
Banquo; a concerning priest, merley preaching his guidance,
Lady Macbeth; offers temptations as evil as the demons inside her,
Duncan; our lord almighty, accepts the betrayal with the deepest of kindness,
Macbeth; a tyrant who allowed corruption to climb into his head,
Finds himself unfulfilled and troubled…with no king to respect.



20/09/10 - 18 Years Old
War
Enemy aircraft flew swift and neat beneath out feet,
A sudden fight, not enough seconds to at least retreat,
Surrounded by scraps of bricks, metal and office supplies,
Seemingly a flat plain of rubble which was brought to the skies,
Journals of pain, entries examined read as inscriptions of evil,
An army disbanded, a lonely war of solitude and individual people,
Each lay looking at fellow soldiers engulfed by flames, countless devoured,
Praying to god, yet hope fell below and went down with the towers.



21/09/10 - 18 Years Old
The Gates of Hell
Not one contained by benevolent mannerisms,
So what’s hell to believers of belittling masochism?
Searching seas of flames but not receiving answers,
The scorch on my skin just conceives nostalgia,
My heart once a delicate organ as the petals on orchids,
Now I forget parental prophecies as fidelities orphan,
As sodomy of my beliefs is a shadow that follows me,
I’ve endured the attacks through the bible’s mockery,
Jesus’ parents able to obtain a stable with a manger cradle,
Happy families breathe through Adam and Eve, Cain and Able,
As I stand sole to witness the resurrection of gates,
A prisoner of societies judgement, my sentence awaits,
These gates, their presence a symbol in which people prioritised,
But beyond their structure, lies pure evil personified,
Anticipate my arrival, predict my pain, sit patiently,
Delusional notions that my captor relates with me,
Behind this flimsy structure, I sense a presence that’s vile,
Imagination foresees the greet with the most deceptive of smiles,
Sorrowed departures to me, are books to their author,
So I laugh when higher powers tempt me with lucrative offers,
I’ve felt similar situations, so this time I’m refusing to bother
Behind misleading grins, lies a land of abusing and torture,
Every past acceptance, increased my knowledge in size,
So receipting my history now reveals tomorrow’s surprise,
It won’t be just a physical anguish, my mind is the target as well,
Thinking as I find myself lingering before the garden of hell,
Demons emerge from inside, it seems that they lost their patience,
The demonic voice shudders "Hello, We’re your foster parents".



29/09/10 - 18 Years Old
The Guilt of Murder
I find a deserted warehouse, which I wonder if anyone owned,
Ideally, it’s dark and cold inside which is reflecting my soul,
This place for years has been neglected from eyesight,
No lights although anger provides red sepia highlights,
I begin brewing my hatred, I take place and focus my medium,
The devil’s instruments read as my potion’s ingredients,
I add pain and emotion, the more so; the harder it hits,
And reveal some burning revenge to garnish the dish,
After I’m finished, I look for a sound but there isn’t any at all,
Which leaves me unsuspecting but drawn to a deadly assault,
A beastly creation, one in which I’m not ready to slay,
It surrounds me; I’m consumed and caressed by its flames,
The monster is mine, it’s like I’m killing myself,
There’s no escaping the demon, this abandoned building Is hell,
Now, both of us gone, the logic is still uncovered,
I was defeated and vanquished, by the guilt of murder.



04/10/10 - 18 Years Old
The Happy Pill

Detective Thomas Miller
Unknown

A letter left behind, written upon the paper is; a tale by a frustrated kid,
He speaks of pills navigating him to a happy place within,
I think he meant to say how his mental strains just went away,
A stressful weight that compressed his brain, reading on, I comprehend his state;

"I can’t be keeping this up, the confusion alone surely, is reason enough,
Eating the drugs until all emotions and feelings are numbed,
My personal goal is to avoid the flashing of emergency lights,
The home these pills will take me is better than mines, superb and divine,
The path they portray is straight, no crossroads with a right and left,
My destination shown by the lights ahead, dispossessing life and death,
In the regular world, death’s a prize, and eventually all contestants die,
But in the land of surreal, I’m undetected by judgmental eyes,
My parents gambled upon the fruits of life, whether to be ripe or rotten,
It seems that life’s forgotten; that a problem child is a child with problems..."

It seems as thought this letter is what’s encrypted inside of me,
I relate to it, and it reads off as though it’s predicting my diary,
I feel as though I’m looking into a beast, cold as the home where an Inuit sleeps,
Someone gritting their teeth, so I realign my eyes and continue to read;

"Now I stare at my hand, I seek for pleasure but fear the measure,
And scan my surroundings, but see no peers for pressure,
They must hide in my vision, In life I’ve gave up on finding my mission,
I correct my sight with precision, my hand filled with tiny decisions,
Imagine a deadly darkness, that is consuming all of you,
Cold feet, don’t worry, soon you will be joined and removed from solitude,
*Gulp*
I never took these for a psychedelic effect or for medical health,
Actually, I’m starting to think over what my chemist had said;
“We all will be entering death, eventually yes,
But do you really want to jump ahead of the sched…”
I ran out, and now as these pills are slowly taking their course,
I conclude as nothing more than a saddened slave of remorse…"

The press already released the report on the regionals,
Of how the cold air was seemingly justifying the shaken cleaner’s chills,
When she found him, he reflected a purple complexion and he was still,
Laying down lifelessly, next to an empty bottle of sleeping pills.



09/10/10 - 18 Years Old
Illusions of Consciousness
Suppressed by a darkening circle of sight, which tries to follow me,
Damaged by detrimental drowses, slowly I arise unconsciously,
My visions a verbiage, a vindictive veneer, removing the honest truth,
Thinking ‘Who am I talking to? Unceremoniously secluded in solitude,
Surrounded by screens, my stressed psyche surpassing amazed,
Do I imagine this place? The blinding glare extracts the escape,
Earth’s televisions, Used like hanging flags as a symbol of merits,
Each depicting its pennants, I conclude; the picture is pleasant,
Suddenly, a sinister sepia spills in, stealthily stealing the centre,
An opened door develops, it’s contents appearing as embers,
I’m intriguing by this palace, made of mysterious magic,
Although fearing its malice, I must be leaving this madness,
Still perplexed by the paradise, I proceed with caution,
Through the door, I keep on walking until it’s near forgotten,
Hardly harmless, it feels like a barracks, the army heartless,
Assertively, the redness abruptly dilutes into alarming darkness,
Everything suddenly glows, my eyes pained like nothing I know,
The beam blinds badly, but lifts to broadcast my brother below,
Awaken to a voice, which to this day is still tattooed on me;
"I’m arresting you for suspicious of murder….Andrew Conley"



17/10/10 - 18 Years Old
Shrooms
Me and my girlfriend Veronica, I’m very much in love with her,
We went out on a trip, going on the mushroom hunt,
Our aim and goal, was to eventually be tripping and all,
Then we found it, a large mushroom with a black nipple on top,
I don’t care to boil with tea; I just want it into me…
. . .
Astonishingly, I assume the accolades of aborigines,
Woefully, I wonder into the wild excitedly,
Childlike, I crave inside to start climbing trees,
I imagine I fly high and my weight is nothing,
The tree holding me back, a branch escapes its clutches,
Looking up, I gaze as the moonlight dilutes to dark,
The stick as my wand, I manually move the stars,
I point it high, holding on with sturdy hands,
As I remember my counterpart, I return to camp,
Inside, I see rainbows of colour, dripping like sinks,
Afraid and fearing, I start swinging the stick,
As it collides, I hear it shatter and kill,
Many shades of red begin to splatter and spill,
The cracks and crunches echo in my ear,
Until the haze disperses and disappears.
. . .
My head fixed back on my shoulders, on top of my back,
Tightly, I feel that my hand is clenching, a log in my grasp,
I stand shocked and disturbed, I’m now awfully sorry,
Shadowing over the bloody mess of Veronica’s body.



31/10/10 - 18 Years Old
Battle of the Ages
My life meets a path, and has been crossed in two ways,
One preserves my innocence, the other dawns a new age,
Soldiers of fate oppose the regime, they arise in a second,
Ironic, a timeless army which wields time as a weapon,
The war proceeds furiously forth, into a difficult age,
Abandoning me alone, with a most troubling decision to make,
Unknowing, the opposition renders all, truants of class,
Their enemies unsuspecting, and so, confused by attacks,
This strategy will get the other troops to forget the orders too,
I'm surrounded by similar situations, yet dwell in solitude,
So many changes, I fell as if my previous life is lost,
Wishing that the fighting stops, but time goes on,
Suddenly, everything's different, it's shown in our faces,
This itself makes fool of the quote; "War never changes",
I realise that I can't stay still in such a world that is moving,
So I lay back, open my legs, and turn this girl to a woman.



24/01/11 - 18 Years Old
Delusions of Grandeur
Face to face, I want to smash your jaw and step on the shards,
I stand in antagonising agony, staring through my nemesis' guard,
You're possessing a heart for hatred, any retribution removed,
Convinced that your convictions are crimeless, your delusions delude,
An alcoholic, rapist and murderer, nothing more than a twisted cancer,
You fuel my adrenaline, assisting a raw animalistic anger,
Attention starved, but here you are less than famished,
Your problem protects you, hiding behind all that mental anguish,
You refuse to reveal the reality, each of your creations are callous,
I tried, but when I extended my hand, you were unable to grab it,
You don't even detest the defamation, no regrets displayed,
Yet I am carelessly caressed and condemned with blame?
The people who persecute, have seemingly sought to target me,
Yet when the sun spreads in the sky, it is you who is hard to see,
You are rancid and ruthless, while my benevolence limits me,
Together as one, housed under very definitive differences,
You make it as miniscule, but matters have your mind diminished,
Staring at you, I see the sickest of sepias, you are vile and vicious,
You reflect upon me, the pains and problems of a medical patient,
Your eyes; a story of evil, each fiendish word phonetically stated,
I can't bare it, I am enraged by these impatient matters,
I attack relentlessly, no stop until your face is shattered,
Victorious? I now lay a victim, encapsulated in this madness forever,
Cowering, I crouch in the corner, looking at the cracks in the mirror.



30/01/11 - 18 Years Old
The Greenhouse Effect
I stare as it's wonder is warning the cynics, colours spill into each other, no boarder envisioned,
A rainbow ruined, warping it's finish, damaged dramatically, distorted and twisted,
I pray that the spectrum is the height of the havoc, but my experience expects the sign of a savage,
No moment manifests defining the madness, each scattered star; capable to brighten the planet,
All is quiet, no shouting or screaming, seemingly no sinister scenes, scoundrels or cheaters,
A place of mystery, surrounded by reason, stars flicker like flames, how are they breathing?
Are we different? I'm afraid it's alarming, that the distance is all that creates this greatest of margins,
Hatred is heartless, so wrongfully, there might be a reason, for the display of the darkness,
My land? An endangered defeatist place, a neglected and negative obsolete disgrace,
This vast vision bedazzles, I seek it's fate, and the eternal existence of a peaceful race,
Imagining unity, it's a delicate dream, but out there it's not ridiculous, I believe that anything's real,
Perhaps nobody will be left on the street and all can salivate at the sights, settings and scenes,
Peace is a parent, we grew as an orphan, and I check back at colours and see why the look is distorted,
Every movement is morbid, and eventually it might move and become vacuumed in a vortex,
So, am I delusional in hoping it won't have grown from it's birth? No havens of hatred or oceans of hurt,
I just scratched the surface, made a hole in the dirt, graciously gazing at a globe or the earth.



31/07/11 - 19 Years Old
Pirates Vs Cowboys
Through the whimsical woods, the wind whistles at first,
But held down by the hooves clicking, and the jingle of spurs,
The sun bakes against cow hide, denim and steel,
Approaching the coast, the smell of salt fresh on their heels,
The horses trot, their trampling feet irons the leaves,
The ocean's mist gives birth, the horizon conceives,
Skull and bones float with a flag, a pirate ships seen,
It steadily creeps, it's nose cuts and siphons the sea,
The nervous natives collective, no one complacent,
Anticipating and anxious, the beckoning boat is adjacent,
The silence is broken, a single seagull shrieks for a moment,
As it passes, a sound dragged from the depths is stealing the focus,
Sharp reds and yellows litter the sky, succeeding explosion,
A comet tears the atmosphere like a demon or omen,
Instantly, Indian arrows become static and dead,
Strong stallions and steeds, now a panicking mess,
The incoming comet, causing a catastrophic collision,
Several cowboys killed, for the rest, the forest they hid in,
The fear wiped, such synergy, a clean state of mentality,
Anger and a lust to avenge, they began creating their strategy,
They plot to flee to familiar plains or this,
Meanwhile, they're in the pirates palms as they make a fist,
Branches crack, leaves rustle, and drew their glare,
The putrid stench of sweat and rum pollutes the air,
The victims vacate the vicinity and venture to open land,
On the way, gathering supplies from an explosives ***he,
Dynamite is laid hidden behind twigs and loose fauna,
The land dwellers duck behind ***ti and rocks, ready to do slaughter,
The pirates appear, figuring victory as their faction's bigger,
Unsuspecting, many step into the blast zone and the trap is triggered,
One minute hunting, then suddenly everything around explodes,
The fireworks pop, enemies drop, and then a cloud of smoke,
Hand cannons meet pistols, a frightening followed event,
The attackers definitively defeated, all of them dead,
The smell of gunpowder infests, for the cowboys, few are hurt,
They spout wings and raise up, the pirates return to Lucifer.



06/08/11 - 19 Years Old
Ode To Aloe
Dreams follow each days demise,
Hopes hide behind lazy eyes,
Reality stuck down on a frozen path,
Progress standing still in a photograph,
Take the vivid image, rip it apart,
Empty pockets mimic spirit and heart,
Eyes pain on passers-by, ignoring the truth,
A piggybank of air, storing the food,
Behind me, the most potholed of paths,
Fell out of the wagon, it toppled and crashed,
The cold concrete mirrors glares of disgust,
Cardboard sheets, constantly savouring dirt,
Against a pebbledash wall, I lean and relax gently,
My cup far from half full and not even half empty,
Former loves, by now have forgotten me,
Society casts me out, gone with the Autumn leaves,
I fall asleep, reminiscent of the road I choose to take,
The next day I arise, and my outlook has changed,
The backfire of engine exhausts, a warning shot,
Loading trucks beep to me in a morning song,
The collaboration expands under the robin's chirp,
Food for my smile, gathered through the longing verse,
Winter's snap washed away by the flow of light,
I'm there to witness the ebbing of snow and ice,
Distantly, I hear some sort of walking,
Expensive shoes clop like horses trotting,
Your pressed suit, sharp as a knife,
Blood in a stone, your heart is harder to find,
As you near, our eyes connect, you give out chances,
Silver dollars drop as your fist collapses,
You wander off, walk and saunder,
But your generosity was my problem solver.



15/08/11 - 19 Years Old
Buried
This coffin is a sarcophagus, I'm locked in it,
I still haven't got the jist to hold consciousness,
One minute, my life is in tact, next, confined and I'm trapped,
With each breath I take, I feel like it's my last,
Surrounded by death, want to take off, but I'm grounded instead,
Although I'm in so deep, I'm still out of my depth,
I'm fully rested now, so why do I lay under unsteady grounds,
The weight of the world above me as the earth presses down,
Whether asleep or awake, I drift off into as hysteria's prey,
I seek the easiest way, but it's too dark to even see the escape,
Dramatic like this is a movie, I scream with no one listening to me,
Imprisoned, it's stupid, my own lack of ambition the jury,
It's a smack in the face, to leave me here sad and afraid,
Captured as prey, I try to wriggle out but I'm static in place,
I want control, but recall and recite 'Who's the boss',
I'm all alone, but not the only one in this wooden box,
One in a group, but restrained by solitude and other disputes,
There's nothing to do but remain here like a child stuck in the womb,
If I die here, I want a funeral, it's not unsuitable,
Residing in this box, my coffin, my office cubical.



17/08/11 - 19 Years Old
Soldier 'an Sailor's Love
The sour smell of salt in the sea air, stings my nostrils,
The trace of the taste lingers within my tonsils,
I gaze to the horizon, admiring the peace and serenity,
Around me anarchy orchestrates, panic releasing it's energy,
The ship slowly plummets, permitting the watery jungle to freeze us,
Behind me an emotional landslide, the ground crumbles beneath us,
A choice floats on the draft's cusp, and blows out in the wind.
To swim for my life, or go down with the ship,
The foghorn's bellow, to me whistles a melody,
There isn't a remedy, my common sense conflicts my integrity,
A foundation I built and strings I attached,
The moon's glisten attracts as it hits off the rafts,
Water floods the ship, it begins a short decent,
If I leave I believe that I'm reconceived and born again,
My feet are greeted by a cold chill as the waves persist,
The mainland invisible, it hides behind a navy mist,
Maybe this is all just a large complex test of reasoning,
When I make a decision, then succeeding it; regrets are seeping in,
I make up my mind, is it suicide? Am I taking my life?
I stay on the vessel, remain on the ship, and stay with my wife.



20/08/11 - 19 Years Old
Envy
Stalking eyes, veiled under a green tint,
Gnashing and grinding, jaw tightened and teeth grit,
Ideals of self purpose, take control of my mind,
I see you grab opportunity and stay holding it tight,
I charge through life, and yet nothing is gained,
And when I see your life, boiled blood pumps in my veins,
Love thy neighbour? That sentiment is lost on me,
My philosophy; your success reflects other's generosity,
Have they forgotten me? Why are you that one that'd get it?
I wouldn't want it anyways, I'd rather work for my merits,
You breeze through life, just accepting the charities,
I have no helping hand but you're getting it magically,
Here is a question, please prepare the facts,
What makes you believe that you deserved a chance?
Recalling my hand outs, I can't think of any,
Perhaps I am jealous, and just filled with Envy.



21/08/11 - 19 Years Old
Awaiting The Bus
I stand at the bus stop, awaiting the bus,
Walking feet, disturbing debris, dust swept away in the gust,
I sit, oblivious to the images of transparent faces,
I'm the audience to a theatre and the actors nameless,
Full characters pass by, each a protagonist in this story of life,
But if you ask my opinion, I'm admitting, there is no one in sight,
A street, booming with life and the public littered through,
Just moving furniture, in this bus stop's living room,
Cars flow through the veins of the land, tires holding with grip,
Empty cans at the side of the curb which roll in the wind,
Meaningless chatter clatters, words lost in the speech,
Buildings stand over, wisdom filled, watching the scene,
Anticipate, the schedule narrates that we lay on the cusp,
I stand at the bus stop, awaiting the bus.



26/08/11 - 19 Years Old
A Knock In The Night Ft. Vanity
Silently, I dozed off as I slept in my bed,
A breeze brushes past, my wife's breath on my neck,
Light pools in as a draft waves the curtains along,
My body weighs down on the mattress, I'm circling nod,
Suddenly, dreams and reality separate in an instant,
A crash captures my consciousness, something breaks in the kitchen,
I awaken shaken and must investigate it,
My veins pump to my brain and my heart is racing,
Questions follow adrenaline, it all lands in my head,
With each creak in the floor, the madder I get,
Grab a lamp to defend, check everywhere to protect my family,
Then a silhouette steps, I swing at the head, with my weapon manicly.

I close my eyes tonight and cease, counting sheep, there’s no need
As i hold on tight pleased, that i’m finally able to fall asleep
In a coma like induced sleep, so deep oh my it feels so sweet
Dreaming of us sitting n chillin in the gardens in Greece
eating with our niece w/o a burden just feeling the breeze
In peace, its a love feast, our happiness just seems to increase
Suddenly, a beast appears with a loud siren in the back ground
In silence i try to track down, and listen to the sound, as i look around
I sense ur presence, i can feel your essence, but you’re no where to b found
I try to calm down, i’m astound, my heart pounds through my chest, like it wants out,
Realizing this wasn’t just a dream, as i’m analyzing this i wanna scream, so i shout
I kick away the bedspread quick, feeling desperate and sick, i jump out of bed
Thoughts rushing through my head, a nightmare? But my husband has left,
I get up to check. rushing downstairs taking huge steps, trying to catch my breath,
Fear starts as I feel that near a beast is real and could rip me apart,
Stressed, I feel the blood in my heart, look for you....but get attacked in the dark.

Heroism extends a hand, I'm accepting the offer,
My assailant collapses, I'm preventing a slaughter by defending my honour,
My foe smacked with the light after I was attacked in the night,
But tragedy strikes, as the moonlight shines, I'm looking back at my wife.



26/08/11 - 19 Years Old
Castle of Mystery
Stars, gaps in the darkness, brighten the world by candle light,
Constellation hieroglyphics, hang down from above like stalactites,
Planets fight, to become, the centrepiece of the picture,
The war is done, the commanding moon leads the militia,
Silent, the sky is an easel, the paint pot had been opened,
Dashes of violet, appear as drops in the ocean,
A song of emotion, played on the face of it's navy canvas,
Glowing spatters of paint, aim to escape the blackness,
Planets are horses, dragging a carriage of history,
Clouds standing guard, keeping back a castle of mystery,
I start to envision, a place I can stay which is far from a prison,
It's difficult to depict the picture; we are part of the system.



05/09/11 - 19 Years Old
Agoraphobia
No education but can comprehend locations; I'm safe when inside,
Never fought with anything yet beyond my residence; lies a dangerous life,
It's plain to see the pain and grief, why would anyone ask to be entering that?
I'm almost dead in here and as the entrance nears, that terrible land strengthens its grasp,
Outside, I picture it as imprisonment, the aura of my sentence surrounds,
I know I'll scream out loud but now I feel pinned down and attempt to kick out,
In the war; I'm startled and feel impartial, just a civilian in military,
Its a hornet's nest so I enjoy this warm caress, out there; a chill of hostility,
In here, I've been learning; that each person is just signage of death,
Looking to that penitentiary and must descend eventually, but need my timing correct,
Although, chance is a foe as circumstances unfold and I'm forgetful of timing,
The outside strengthens its case taking what kept me in place, my protection a tyrant,
Tonight it happens; I take decisive action, my heart beats persistently harder,
Alone there's no chance, so the world sees me with cold hands, which assist the departure,
Since leaving I have seemingly had a life where I've been looking at death,
Physically open, yet my eyes are closed, if it was my control; I wouldn't have left.



03/10/11 - 19 Years Old
Message In A Bottle
I walk across the beach plain, watching the brash boisterous waves,
The sand sits below and each grain, brings annoyance and pain,
My feet unguarded, I purposely have forgotten protection,
The tide crashes against rocks at high speed, teaching its nautical lesson,
A buoy soon becomes a bottle, debris; the waters managed to salvage,
It sweeps onto the shore; I’m intrigued by this telegram from Atlantis,
This straggler is the only survivor of a massive wreckage,
There is life inside, like a seed someone plants a message,
The sun shines so I try to adjust my eyes, on the horizon I focus,
A single blue line signals division between the sky and the ocean,
I imagine flying through the clouds, freedom, the air only got thinner,
Then imagine the water, every part is the deep end, I’m not a strong swimmer,
Should I open the bottle, and have this letter free from its sarcophagus,
I know that reading isn’t needed because its meaning is obvious,
I’m the only one holding the bottle, at night now I sleep alone,
So I’m adamant on my drastic decision, only I will ever read the note



29/10/11 - 19 Years Old
Thursday
My mission is to write my ambitions, but I rip it in pieces,
My CV almost as empty as my list of achievements,
No experience to gain experience, that’s just part of the job now,
My signature signed the school register, but my heart was a dropout,
Was an average student, just one in ninety nine of a hundred kids,
Never tried my best, I came across more Cs than Columbus did,
Never trying to make it, uninspired or lazy, where do I toe the line?
I never let green ticks and red crosses, start to control my life,
College leads to success in life, and I heard the lectures,
And despite a change in the tense, I never felt the pressure,
To find my path, I shoot in the dark; it’s just a practice shot,
I left my future behind without passing through, what a paradox,
Lady Luck blows no kisses; I’ve never felt her breath,
We line up like soldiers; our commander is a welfare check,
I coast with the beach, with no examples of either right or wrong,
Life is long when I’m signing on; this free money has the worst price of all,
I stand on the cliffs over a massive abyss, and circle the dark cave,
I’m up on a rock and this world is the hard place,
I abseil from excuses, ‘I can’t get a job’ or ‘If I kept my head down…’
But why can’t I pick myself up if I let myself down?
I wrap my palms on the rope, and make sure that I’m grabbing it well,
Cause if my grip slips from it, I know that I’ll be hanging myself.



29/10/11 - 19 Years Old
Masochist
You lips pumped with poison, you’re kisses are lethal,
Vicious an evil, your image; vindictive, you show the devil in people,
I’m a glutton for punishment, a hungry masochist,
Am I sick for having this attraction with the antagonist?
How can I leave this lustful love without losing face?
You are so soul destroying; you put Shang Tsung to shame,
My face in my palms, my hands are a mask to the scars,
Hazel haunts your eyes, your pupils black as your heart.
My life’s not often open; you snuck in by the smallest of margins,
But if this hurt is the price of happiness, I’ll call it a bargain.



2011 - 19 Years Old
When The Cotton Fields Sleep...
When the cotton fields sleep, the music starts,
We rest, relax and tend to our bullwhip scars,
An orange glow beneath the mantle is lifting the dark,
Fire logs crackle, pop and split in the hearth,
When the sun rests it's head, dusk has brung stars standing above,
Father and son handing heart beats to the African drum,
Embers emerge from the flames and dance in the rhythm,
We sit within the song and graciously gather in singing,
Spirit shakes hands with the moon, bringing with it sadness,
The wisdomous elderly, focus on weaving wicker baskets,
When the cotton fields sleep, we become joyous people,
Huddled and working together to wave off mosquitoes,
Shirts worn and torn so the wind blows on our backs,
Callused hands preparing left overs and scraps,
Our bosses believe their rejections are enough to eat,
Under our watch, even the toughest meat becomes a feast,
Cutlery made of flesh, and the finest delph, made out of plastic,
We become a human cocoon to this make-believe banquet,
Clustered together, sneaking up to the snack like a scuttle of crabs,
I can't calculate if the bread is stale, or it is just from my palms,
When the cotton fields sleep, the light shines in the dark,
It beams straight through our chests and right in our hearts,
We keep getting by regardless, although we struggle to manage it,
We have our health and each other, one lump sum of happiness,
Share it out between us, we cut it in fractions,
Keeping our eyes opened, eventually they'll adjust to the blackness,
The children surround us, we grip our emotion, for all of their sake,
Gleeful smiles put up a wall to protect inequality's pain,
We must power on, live our lives, remain keeping faith,
Cause when the cotton fields sleep, we don't feel like slaves.



2011 - 19 Years Old
Stories of War
I joined the army, the training was simple,
I studied and went on to graduate in the middle,
The real thing was exciting, uncontrolable nerves,
Insercion, over the chopper blades, explosions were heard,
This path to manhood was my main attraction,
We ziplined down, and headed straight to action,
We joined the infanty whom were holding the line,
Looked for the enemies, but there was no one in sight,
We joked with the troops, all dying with laughter,
Until a low pitched grumble silenced the banted,
We lined up, forming a wall of the military,
A large object was visible, they had brought their artillery,
At the sight of this beast, my heart sank in my chest,
Some of the other unit, suddenly paniced and left,
The dust waved in front, we could hardly see,
One of our men jumped up, and grabbed an RPG,
A sergeant, playing the hero, he thought he'd try his luck,
Unfortunatley, the tank replied to us and fired first,
Like a shooting star, the rocket rips through a block of flats,
We see the wall collapse following the awful crash,
As the Sarge looked up, he was hit by the building's debris,
His head half cracked open, the blow killed him I see.
It's reloading to kill us, no one is trying to stop it,
Instinctivly, I grab the launcher and fire the rocket,
The target is locked, the tank's hit and implodes,
The weather returns the attack, the wind drifing the smoke,
Most celebrate, despite being surrounded by death,
I look down to the fallen comrade, brain hanging out of his head,
The runaway soldier returns, solomn, sulking, and I can see in his eyes,
That he hold's himself soley responsible for his leader's demise.



2012 - 19 Years Old
Stories of War 2
I can’t get rid of the image, the sergeant’s face in my head,
No funeral, family and friends to attend and lay him to rest,
Me, him, just other inhabitants, of this forgotten land,
Bullets merely the zip, this war is a body bag,
My unit are robots, designed for this hatred,
All except one, Simmons stands apart from line and formation,
No conversation or socials, he has nothing to say,
Looking down at his feet, blaming them for running away,
I stand up to the enemy, he runs away from them,
He’s just isn’t cut out for it, and that’s something in common,
I don’t know why I think of the Sarg, I didn’t even know the guy,
Every time I try to forget, the weakness overrides,
These other soldiers desensitized, their heads in the clouds,
My contemplation is taken; lieutenant’s yelling ‘GET DOWN!’
Everyone obeys the instruction while I hesitate for a second,
The swift sound of a rocket soon makes me regret it,
My attention was lessened, I failed to prepare,
It collides with the ground behind, now I sail through the air,
My orders no longer my goal, to live is my mission,
I fly past the bullets, before hitting a building,
My skull wraps around a rock, a sharp blunt thump on my head,
I tried to flee the explosion, but now blood’s running instead,
Horizontally, I vaguely see enemies surrounding my fleet,
Circled vision, the radius thinning…and now I’m asleep.



07/04/12 - 19 Years Old
To My Wee Granny

To my wee Granny,

Thanks for the letter, I know I’m late in replying,
I’d say I’ve had better stuff to do, but you could say I’d be lying,
High school, college then now, yeah I guess it was such a fall,
But I didn’t grow up too quick, in fact I didn’t grow up at all,
Seems like I watch the world pass me by as I lay on the couch,
And mums still drinking a lot, too bad you cant straighten her out,
You know that I love my mum, I’d never speak ill of her,
But I think all of us fear the drink is killing her,
It was hard with you near us, but it’s much harder without,
Actually downstairs right this second they are arguing now,
Furniture thumping, high pitched crying, my heart banging in my chest,
It's stuff like this which could have me actually depressed.
I actually had to go down stairs in the middle of writing this shit,
Now I deal with it alone while they’re still fighting like kids,
It’s not the first time I’ve hurt my wrist when I punch the wall,
Pardon my language Granny, but really fuck them all,
Sometimes I want to sit them down, I can never make my mind up,
Anyways, it’s funny that your 3 grandchildren are around the same age that I was,
It’s really bad to think that no ones keeping in touch,
Without you pulling everyone together, we don’t see them enough,
Ryan seems to have settled down, it’s good to see him happy for once,
And before I forget it, I finally gave Jappy that hug,
But I want to make sure that not even for one second have we forgotten you,
You’ll never know how much I’d want to have one more pot of soup,
So I moved house again, maybe this time I’ll be meeting them friends,
I guess that’s it from me, I love you, and prey that I will see you again.

Lots of Love,
Dave.



13/04/12 - 19 Years Old
The Story of Detective Brian Noble

Joseph Beale Residence, Westlake OH, 1.54pm, 10/14/11
Approaching their home, there’s a decline in the housing on this side of the mountain,
A large forest is sighted around them as I cruise through in my Morris Minor 1000,
These days it just isn’t as strong, rocks crackle under its feet as it hisses along,
Joseph Beale is outside; he whistles a song, enjoying himself as he’s splitting some logs,
Unlike most of the fathers after, he isn’t possessing a type of death in his eyes,
I’m finding it weird since the last time I was here is when Jessica died,
He asks for a cigarette but seems upset when I give him a menthol,
“So why did you call me” “It’s about what I found over next to the deadfall”,
He puts down his hatchet and starts walking through the hollow woods, I follow suit,
He doesn’t seem to care as much since the interviews when it was on the news,
After her death he kind of went back to his life, it’s like her father is dead,
When we approach the scene, I flash back to the image of the axe in her head,
Thick blood oozed through, her flesh feasted on by a demon spawn,
Joseph looks beneath some logs and pulls out from under one; a piece of cloth,
A silk handkerchief, when they investigated the scene it was hidden from placement,
On one side, embroidered with gold thread it said the initials of JN,
He handed it over, “I want all the evidence down so there is no mistake”
I put it in my bag, got back in my truck and then I drove away.

Boris Jones Residence, North Olmsted OH, 3.22pm, 04/11/12
I knew from the sight of the orchids that his wife was a florist,
Once again I sneak up to a house, which in turn hides in the forest,
Out comes Boris, the alcoholic abusive stepfather of Lacy,
He might have dodged the warrants, but I’m surprised that he’ll actually face me,
When her mother died, Boris hit her hard and inflicted scars,
I’m angry as fuck, asking my mom; Janet above why he was never charged,
He staggers over with a nervous twitch; I know he’s scared of me,
Like little Jessica, Lacy was raped too, but she was left there for weeks,
“Mr. Jones, I thought you were relieved that you were now done with us?”
He handed me a cigarette butt, it was white tipped and all crumpled up,
“I was out in the woods and found that in a bush by the scene at morning,
Now get the fuck off my lawn so I can watch Wheel of Fortune!”

Detective Brian Noble's Home, Cleveland OH, 11.03pm, 04/11/12
I stand in my office, staring face to face with an open fire,
I’d turn in this evidence, but it conflicts with my own desires,
An ominous glow engulfs me and surrounds the scene,
I throw in the handkerchief, that my mother handed down to me,
When the Morris Minor gave out and broke down on a forest path,
The memories came jogging back as a young girl came jogging past,
Everything changed, I had finally started indulging my hurt mind,
I still see her innocent face, it was a flustering first time,
It was the flash backs that got me, I didn’t target her,
She lay beaten and bruised, I saw the axe by a house not far from us,
I gaze in the flames of hell, hoping to see where the mental image ends,
And toss in the discarded remains of my menthol cigarette,
This one was different, this time it was proper to me,
From seeing her cry to watching her sleep, I stalked her for weeks,
On the route to her house, I stood silently still, I waited in hope,
She was late coming home, my cravings would grow, I put a flame to my smoke,
She arrived, I dropped it under a tree, I pace towards, she starts running from me,
I snatched her up, did the deed, slashed her gut, then she was covered with leaves
As I stare in the hearth, we’re not so different and I can say it was true,
Because like them, my childhood died when I was raped in the woods.



15/04/12 - 19 Years Old
The Forbidden Fruit
The spring breeze glazed out necks, it’s the heart of the season,
Our red brick gazebo rests in the Garden of Eden,
Rose bushes stood over single flowers, protecting its kin,
A clothesline reached side to side and measured its width,
One day, I’m picking up bay leafs and left over plates,
A serpent appears, its words hold my fate,
It sits in my stomach, it sees in my head,
It knows my desires; it’s a disease that infests,
Remember what our leader had said, the words rattle around,
His words act as a shielded defence, and now we battle it out,
He sat us in circles and spoke of what our instruction is,
The forbidden fruit was prohibited, he outlined on the punishment,
I was shown that dependence is just an imitation,
He taught us repentance and rehabilitation,
I don’t capitalize on that knowledge enough,
So the serpent’s tongue twisting speech leaves a knot in my gut,
The plates smash on the floor, I’m leaving fast, keys in hand,
I still remember the dark, dingy and damp alley where the tree would stand,
When I arrive, I notice the holes over his toes, exposing his feet,
This tree looks withered and dying, trench coat pulled over its leaves,
Each one turned brown and shrivelled, holes scatter it’s limbs,
Black circles under its eyes act as annual rings,
My handbag alone could be the finest work that Gucci has made,
But when you look under the soil, it looks as if our roots are the same,
I try to refuse but the serpent looks straight in my eyes and I lose,
Picking off a small brown apple rock, it’s certainly not the ripest of fruits,
As I bite in at needlepoint, euphoria sweeps over as I fly away,
The serpent destroyed for now as I enjoy one of my 5 a day,
Now the mundane problems of suburbia, I can easily forget,
I know that I should enjoy my Eden, cause soon I’ll see it repossessed.



2012 - 20 Years Old
Phoenix
For me, there is no insecurity when in security,
It just renders my art in obscurity, a mixed impurity,
I've intensely trained Judo, now I've mastered the technique,
But a mobile doorman is not what my master intended,
It's my job to be strong; I'm demolishing everything,
All the while coming from a past of knowledge and discipline,
Yet at that time of the week I fight on the street,
In life itself it seems I'm still finding my feet,
At night when I dream, I depict the projection of all of these goals,
And when I wake up in the morning, I'm not even close,
Each night is a nightmare; I always know what's in store,
But now when I open the door I find a small envelope on the floor,
In golden calligraphy, it's an tourny invitation to me,
It's the change that I need which will make me at peace,
I'm the best fighter in the world; I must prove that I exist,
So with an iron first I must rule the Iron Fist,
I don't fight for a living; I'm living to fight,
I walk through to the back where dust sits on my bike,
Walk around, instigate an inspection, checking for flat tires,
Visor down, saddle up and then rev 'till it backfires,
My senses are stained by the scent of the gas as it fumigates,
Hit the highway and drive straight to this international kumite,
I don't wanna contest, that's out of the question, I've gotta be best,
I race through the streets, mimicking the thoughts in my head,
When I arrive, passion and drive is the gate's admission,
Inside, a congregation is waiting with the same ambition,
Amongst the group, an Ogre, a bear and a man with a tiger head,
Arriving then is the host touching down in his private jet,
Dust particles work together to create a haze on the scene,
The plane doors slide open, a soft wind starts erasing the screen,
A silhouette is revealed, it’s one that I knew to hate,
As the cloud was killed, it was shown as Kazuya's face,
The host is one in which in the past I have fought,
The only man every against me to have managed a draw,
My blood turns to acid, but it's a different time from then,
And with he fixtures uncovered, it seems we will fight again,
Our storied lives intertwined and now it unfolds.
We take to an open ring; the crowd are the ropes,
Surrounding the show, I come out with a stuttered sentence,
"We end this now", my eyes cut through him with bloody vengeance,
In tunnel vision I come out swinging, I'm sending him home,
Punches and kicks crunch when they hit, bone connecting with bone,
My time is now, it's one a piece in the final round,
He hits the demon scissors, a tsunami kick and the lights are out,
I awake in a bad state, I'm so adjusted to winning,
Is this the end of Paul Phoenix...or is it just the beginning?



2012 - 20 Years Old
Angel
I’m a figure skater; it’s the Olympic final,
My goal is to go out and try to lift the title,
With gold on my mind, there is no mistaking,
The source of my life and my motivation,
My mother above was the best to me,
My mother I love, a majestic queen,
When she put on her skates, heaven opened it’s gates,
A flood of beauty came out and on the ice it escaped,
When she was cleaning the house, or when she’s cooking the dinner,
It was the ice on her mind, and she could do it forever,
When I was 8 years old, she put my mittens on,
Took my hand in hers, and we went out to the pond,
She handed me skates that she’s had since eleven,
In magic marker on the side, the word ‘Angel’ was written,
Like a newborn baby, I tried to stand on my feet,
She says I’m a natural, I know she’s lying to me,
A tear escapes from her eye and it was stuck on her face,
So happy she cried, her two loves in one place,
When I left the rink to where the land was dry,
I turned back to her and something caught my eye,
I stop for a second and see a crack in the ice,
But before I could say, it was snatching her life,
It happened so fast, I was frozen stiff,
But in the call of duty, I awoke from it,
I grabbed her hand; I wasn’t letting it go,
But the last image I saw, was her sinking below,
I can’t remember the rest, we’re ten years away,
But in dedication to her, I am here today.
I awake to crowd, which all look at my face,
Balero’s the sound and now I’m shook from my daze,
The procession softly taps; my heart follows in line,
I capture a deep breath, and now I know it’s my time,
The spotlight is dropped and I take my position,
They comment on my skates and their ‘Angel’ inscription,
I perform for my life; this is no time for regrets,
I’m a fragile being, that’s unrivalled in strength,
Move my skates and I glide, across the face of the ice,
With grace on my side, it’s the most amazing of sights,
I’ve worked so hard for this; I’ve practised for seasons,
But now that I’m here, it’s just a natural feeling,
As I close the show with a butterfly spin,
I feel my mother above drop her love on the rink,
The music quiets, I put my head in my arms,
The crowd stands on it’s feet, I see the tens on the cards,
A break out of emotion, the moment weakens my knees,
It seems so long ago, now I’m achieving my dream,
I look up at the sky, I will thank her for life,
Look down on floor and see her hand on the ice.



2012 - 20 Years Old
The Lights Go Out...
I’m on the main street in the town as we depart from dusk,
A city lit by scattered candles, reflecting on the stars above,
The people are pleasant when I greet and address them,
Even the meanest of persons wouldn’t be seen as offensive,
A joyful location, I stroll through minding my business,
But on this one occasion, suddenly the lights are diminished,
Everything dimmed and blackened, it was such a surprise,
We all stood still when it happened, just adjusting out eyes,
I expected generous gentlemen to give a helping hand,
But instead of that everyone turned to havoc and went to hell and back,
Storefront glass fell to the floor, right along with the morals,
The peace was ignored and hid behind the squabbles and quarrels,
It wasn’t joking or banter, it was an on-going strenuous fight,
Hearts outpoured their anger, it was revenge in the night,
Smiling faces were covered as they robbed regular stores,
People that had crossed them in daylight, now they settle the scores,
The picked targets in darkness, like an assassin they’d do it,
A mob of pretend personas, anonymously ransacking and looting,
This riot and ruckus had wasted hours away,
But it was stopped in it’s tracks and then the powers regained,
Everybody once again froze in place, standing under the lights,
With no cover in sight or somewhere to hide they just returned to their lives,
The darkness wasn’t liked at first, but now I’m changing my stance,
Cause when the lights returns, their personalities fade with the black.



2012 - 20 Years Old
The Jungle
I could stay and survive, it seem that leaving is easier,
Now I rustle through this jungle's thick leafy interior,
My breath is short with me, but if I stop then I die,
I glance past the tree tops where free bird's squawk in the sky,
I hurry past the constriction of vines with harsh whispers behind,
While my foot aches to it's core as I limp on it's side,
The toes scream bloody murder with each step that penetrates,
As sunbeams cut through the tall trees like machete blades,
From my rear I hear the cracking with each slice of a branch,
As my captors chop through the woods, each with rifle in hand,
A tattered tank top struggles to cover the heart on my sleeve,
I hear Alsatian dogs bark through the bark of the trees,
Unleashed, their war cries come out like vicious commands,
Their feet flatten and trample on deciduous plants,
When they fix on my scent, it starts taking them over,
Sniffing it separate from the vegetation's aroma,
They straighten their own whilst staying keen on my tail,
As the blood from my foot begins leaving a trail,
I don't stop to absorb in, the scenery,
But crimson drops dot on the tree's debris,
With a gaping gash which seems to glow as it throbs,
The only option to take is going over the dogs,
There’s a perfect tree, and I see it ahead,
With a fork in it's middle which marks an easy ascent,
With one leg dragging behind, I carefully crawl up,
Tree sap finds a home on my hand, next to dirt and some small cuts,
I grab its limbs with mine and hide away like an infant,
The blood curdling bellows begin, to fade away in the distance,
I never wanted this to happen, I thought leaving was plan B,
But as we split water from rock, they took people from families,
As political guns burst through chests and lives,
I was just a disposable member of an endless fight,
My eyes felt the pain as I was seeing them hurt,
But look at me now; I sit free with the birds,
Between the toes on my foot, is why I’m fleeing from such violence,
Between the toes on my foot, I bleed on a blood diamond.



05/08/12 - 20 Years Old
What If...
1918, under the Hungarian skies,
When patrol was captured by the radio's cries,
A determined disc jockey was losing his voice,
He yelled "The War Is Over", it was news to rejoice,
There was always a doubt that we would hear it this morning,
We fired shots in the air with no need for a warning,
Walked straight to the coast to celebrate the treaty,
Hoping it was the last time that we would storm the beaches,
It was a small lagoon which boasted golden sands,
The party began with no one holding back,
We all took turns of being thrown in the sea,
Enjoying shots of Pálinka and the local cuisine,
We pulled seaweed from our boots, pouring out the water as well,
As we sat by a small bar which lay on top of the shells,
All of a sudden, my heart descended and sinked,
When I looked at the woman who was serving us drinks.

Why do I think this,
Happily married but still,
Wondering what if.

At first sight, I'd never felt this affection,
I was transcended at seeing her sun kissed complexion,
I was overcame and I could hardly take it,
I was really nervous and my pulse was racing,
When I made the request, she started sitting with us,
But a platoon of drunken troops was set to kick up a fuss,
So we strolled to the shore, the sun rested it's head,
We just talked for hours, till it was beckoned again,
Her eyes reflected to me a deep blue of oceans,
And she unlocked my heart to a new emotion,
With the war over, I was now free to love,
We connected on levels only seen to us,
For the rest of my stay, we spent every second together,
And I swore that she was a woman that I'd remember forever,
If I could, I'd have refused to leave,
But I returned to America, and wonder what could have been.

Why do I think this,
Happily married but still,
Wondering what if.

In a small apartment, we could have layed together,
We could have bought the bar and then we'd stay forever,
I could have proposed and delightfully she'd reply,
And then we'd get married together under a star lit sky,
We could've made the decision and then try for a while,
And eventually my wife would have bore me a child,
With the sallow skin of their mum they'd be credited,
But I'd make a point to teach them of their heritage,
We'd watch them grow up as we would grow old,
Reading their book as the story unfolds,
For the rest of my time there's no wars that I fight,
Just me you and our child moving forward in life,
When one of our lives is beginning to end,
The other would wait to be together again,
On a death bed one would rest as our hands would clasp,
A final smile would grow, and then we pass.

Why do I think this,
Happily married but still,
Wondering what if.

But since then, I've met my wife, it's not like I'm not happy,
I've loved every minute with her, it's been many years since we got married,
I was 34 when we met, I was far from a young kid,
We dated for months and I could tell that we just clicked,
I'm 68 now, Hungary was a lifetime ago,
But I can't help but think how that life would go,
Would it be happy? Owning the bar with my wife?
Or would it all have fallen apart in a night?
I'm not sure, but one thing is for certain,
She was my first love and it's always serving a purpose,
I have no idea how things turned out or if she met another,
But there's a place in my heart and I will always love her,
I swore to always remember, and that was truly honest,
And I've passed through the years and still kept that promise,
I'm happily married and loving it, in a life that's long lived,
But I can't stop from wondering, and thinking of 'What if...'.



06/08/12 - 20 Years Old
Process of Corruption
When I started this job I knew the rights from the wrongs;
To enforce that citizens would abide by the law,
My first day was nerve racking, butterflies in my stomach,
Each moment a service which I supply to the public,
I was walking the streets as I patrolled on my beat,
Only to hear them yelling 'Fuck the police!',
I was quickly flustered, but I was keeping a straight face,
I couldn't understand the assault cause I was keeping the place safe,
I would like to say, it was a one off occurrence,
But everyday was an insult, they wouldn't stop from coming,
As time was passing, I would think to myself,
Why was bothering in even trying to help?
They'd just assume I led the life of a liar,
So now what I'll do is fight fire with fire,
They want a corrupt cop so they can point and heckle,
Then that's what they've, and now the score is settled,
I'll hate and discriminate, I'll do whatever I want,
I'll take bribes despite every lesson I'm taught,
I started out positive, now they'll say I was fake,
But the fact of the matter is that they made me this way.



20/08/12 - 20 Years Old
Californiacation
My family surrounds and they kick up fuss,
As I inhale the fumes of a pick up truck,
I share, with my addict brother, an emotional hug,
But he's so strung out, I'm pretty much holding him up,
My father looks displeased, as if my actions are crimes,
While I put my foot on the gas and leave Nebraska behind,
It's like I'm born again, and now I start my life,
Which contrasts my windshield, a graveyard of flies,
I know that I'm close because the traffic thickens,
The colourful landscape is just as I've envisioned,
A bright blue sky sits on a still horizon,
Boasting picturesque clouds which hold silver lining,
Back home they said that I'm a dreamer,
But now I arrive here in Pasadena,
I want to star in movies, but this is one of my own,
No audience to watch, I'm the only one in the show,
I think of a beach house in Californian suns,
But without a job I'm not affording one,
I need an occupation like the one that I've left behind,
Nothing fancy, enough to get me by,
The restaurant type, so I can serve as a waitress,
Where it is irrelevant because I'm certain I'll hate it,
I pass an interview, the doubts become harder to hear,
And now I'm ready to focus and then start my career,
Some months go by, my outlook has begun to change,
I've waited for calls, but nothings came,
Is it my look or personality which is preventing my rise?
I think I'll have to go out and then get a disguise,
Long extensions, daisy dukes, I'm now fake and it's awful,
High heel boots, manicures and dyed hair from a bottle,
I know that at home, my dad would be shouting at me,
For stringing along guys that are out of my league,
Of all the traits, intelligence isn't the best,
So I sacrifice my brain to fit in with the rest,
The dumb blonde routine has been successful for many,
I'm now just a character, so to act I am ready,
I hide behind make up as I'm painting my face,
And now the girl from Nebraska begins fading away,
My past is now darkened, I can't think back clearly,
Because for me, being myself, is a Big Bang Theory.

[EtH]

21/08/12 - 20 Years Old
The Raven
High in the sky it swiftly flows,
Leading us to battle with shape shifting foes,
A timely feud which sees bloodshed on the rise,
As brute force locks horns with deception and lies,
The raven scouts ahead as it’s checking for danger,
Its beady eyes borrowed by war-tested invaders,
We enter the woods, our weapons jingle and chime,
Each dead tree stands as a symbol of life,
Our boots crunch down upon the twigs and the snow,
Our lips dry and cracked by the blistering cold,
Pity isn’t a vice of our warrior nation,
Each sorry erased and no apology taken,
This inferior race made a mistake in opposing our clan,
Battle-axe at the ready, no one’s holding us back,
The oaks all around, choose to block our view with,
Crooked branches as they watch our movements,
The raven starts to circle, we’re ready to fight,
It indicates where our foes will dye red in the ice,
Our hearts beat onto animal fur, butterflies flap in our stomachs,
But I know that these magic men will be no match for our courage,
Not a man on the face of earth could make a coward of us,
So we charge as the raven glares and stares down from above,
A firm grip on my sword; I am holding it tight,
But when we get to the clearing; there is no one in sight,
An army alone, none killed on this night,
But each and every one of us gets a chill up our spine,
We look to each other with eerie suspicion,
The fog thickens and my soldiers disappear with my vision,
The weakness of fear appears to corrupt my mind,
As I hear blood curdling screams, the trees come to life,
Resistance is futile; I feel cuts like razors,
The excruciating pain a reward for my trusting nature,
I see the raven land with my last possible energy,
Only to see it shape shift and transform to the enemy.



11/05/13 - 21 Years Old
The Magician
This is a story of the most stunning magician,
Who created an act with the most lovely assistant,
He thought the pair were permanent, that they'd designed a life,
And would always stand on stage, staying side by side,
But one day the magician performed the greatest of tricks,
He made his assistant disappear and float away in the wind,
There is no team when the magic starts to drift away,
And this is not something a revealed card could ever change,
He did it with one woman and a bottle of Scotch in him,
I watched it all from the back so I was sort of the audience,
Like an escapist, she had to get out to survive,
Cause he had wrecked their act with his mountains of lies,
A powerful weapon's removed when you're disarming the magic,
There's no disparaging the havoc behind a sparkly jacket,
His love displayed is now thought to be trickery,
Cause magic is never real, it's beyond our ability,
If only the kids watching ever knew it's fake,
Well not me; my outlook is disputed, my view has changed,
It's a relationship cut in two, never being undone,
But I guess that just happens when dad's cheating on mum.



20/06/13 - 21 Years Old
Heaven
True heaven to us, really isn't known,
Where the sun bounces off sands which are rich with gold,
Landscapes so capable of taking breath,
Cutting through a horizon with a serrated edge,
With vast desert planes, which the equator is on,
Backdrops for Mother Nature's conversations with God,
Where each person is gifted their own strip of paradise,
Far from the scenes sold in Heaven's afterlife,
See heaven to me, isn't what's unknown,
Look around, heaven is where you call your home.



15/07/13 - 21 Years Old
The Honest Day's Work
My wife stirs left and right as she sleeps on my arm,
Awoken, ignoring my attention seeking alarm,
A sharp ring that would sting even the hardest of hearing,
The snooze button an apple in the Garden of Eden,
My uniform rests on the dresser with the neatest folds,
Watching teleshopping while scoffing down my tea and toast,
No exactly a breakfast tailor made for kings,
My day starting even earlier than daylight’s is,
Drive, dragging behind me the heaviest eyes,
Park the car and clock in when I arrive,
The boxes are loaded, to the streets I head,
As the sun now begins to pick up its weary head,
Each package delivered by an ordered list,
As moisture lays itself down on the morning mist,
The road at this time; the most deserted of places,
Anticipating the masses which will tread on its faces,
Soon people appear, and the numbers will double,
So the road rests and waits for the hustle and bustle,
Work stands like a wall, when each minute elapses,
It starts representing another brick that collapses,
And when work is done, and when we’re going to bed,
We close our eyes knowing it’s going to start over again.



22/07/13 - 21 Years Old
Breaking off Contact (Done for audio)
It was night. Darkness fell asleep on the skies,
Until it was ripped opened by a beacon of light,
It's image evoked the beating of the human heart,
Earth appears as a firing range for this shooting star,
Blue orbs were echoed by shades of yellow,
Until the meteor crash landed in a vacant meadow,
Police converged, it was a UFO,
Do they come in peace or appear as a mutant foe?
They opened the door to see if any had died,
Only to find out that it was empty inside,
Excursions was held on the burnt remains,
But eventually its purpose diverted to commercial gain,
A once mysterious and unusual object,
Turned to studio project and a movie prop next,
It was released to the public to inherit glory,
Providing a backdrop for synthetic stories,
A ground-breaking discovery, it should be mad and surreal,
But now parents have snapshotted their kids as they sat at the wheel,
This event's impact isn't even acknowledged,
It's just another method for us to be lining our pockets,
One day, a storm brewed, another UFO,
Came down to us, but in full control,
The doors opened, we stayed siting, waiting,
As the heavens held us down with anticipation,
With a face like thunder, it came straight from the night's storm,
The angry scowl was worn by an alien life form,
It seemed disgusted to be leaving its base,
And it looked at us as an inferior race,
It spoke to everyone of a galactic tale,
And a lifelong test, which we could pass or fail,
They would crash a ship, and see if we're credible,
And we fail if we place it on the media's pedestal,
The greed of our race had us viewed in a bad light,
We sold tickets so people could be viewing the crash site,
If we passed, unending knowledge we'd be gaining, however,
If we failed, they'd break off contact and isolate us forever,
Needless to say, greed was our main regret,
And the alien left us...we had failed the test.



25/08/13 - 21 Years Old
Volcano
There’s no smoke without fire, there’s always something within,
And when any plates separate, the eruption begins,
The plume puffs into the sky ‘til none is left uncovered,
Bringing lightning bolts and spawning endless thunder,
Once a dormant disaster, clouds cannot clear the ash,
As lava floods down a mountain of appearing cracks,
A rip-roaring river, and the colouring red,
It’s current occurring from the current events,
The barrage leaves all in its tracks, battered and bludgeoned,
All destroyed but one tree which stays standing above it,
It branches out, until it’s floating past the birds,
To evade the backdrop of a molten massacre,
In a war torn warzone; this tree stands defiant,
Avoiding vicious advances of volcanic violence,
This tree is forgotten as the magma worsens,
It’s roots embedded, yet can’t scratch the surface,
It sleeps next to the hearth but doesn’t take a hit,
Each and every cherry blossom still remains unsinged,
Still remains uncharred, it seems fire retardant,
Keeping out of the flames, and it’s trying it’s hardest,
The depths below are too deep a fall,
And these natural causes are the least of all,
The separation of plates is no reason for this,
So it’s as easy as this;
As long as this tree will exist;
It will reach in the mist to feel the breeze of the wind,
So as Mother Nature collides hard with Father Time,
Despite the fight it stays standing fine,
Like a stalagmite; its remaining a cliff hanger,
Surviving the divorce of its mother and its father.



15/05/14 - 22 Years Old
Bishop's Trout
I tramped through the marshlands, boots succumbing to floating fauna,
With a fly rod cast out to open water,
I would leave the city streets to reach this transcendental scene,
All stood still but for a cool, gentle breeze,
The only tug on my arm, was from the perch that I caught,
When the float plummeted down to the depths of the loch,
This was different, the forceful fish fled as I grasped the rod,
It would crack the logs as it thrashed along,
I’ve seen trout before, I’d never seen it as big,
The line stressed and pressed as I was reeling it in,
It’s weight was a match for my sizeable doubt,
But not long had passed before I tired it out,
From its fin I lifted, water dripped on my feet,
It was different to see such a mammoth amphibian just admitting defeat,
It’s eyes hung lower than the reeds they wade through,
It’s body and face tinted by the dullest grey hue,
It didn’t fight at all, it wasn’t worth the hassle,
It’s cheeks were scarred by accolades of battle,
Every hook that failed, every line that snapped,
Each time it prevailed, but now it’s time has passed,
No resistance was given, it inspired my thought;
Bishop’s trout just wanted all the fighting to stop.




26/06/14 - 22 Years Old
One Phonecall
Grab my keys, wallet and leave as I walk to the store,
My phone rings on the side table as I walk from the door,
Will I turn back, pick up or stay ignoring the call?
I guess they’ll leave a message if it’s important at all,
The air, thick, weighing down on breathless lungs,
As if under command from the relentless sun,
The barking of neighbours dogs drones over my side,
The same reason that last night, I was awoken at five,
As bags hang from the eyes, the sun beats on my back,
Energy bleeding and sapped and I feel I’ll collapse,
I stop and sit on a wall and then I rest and sulk,
Remembering my incoming test results,
Insist I’m indifferent if cancer’s existent,
Indignant, convinced that the mole is malignant,
But fuck it, who cares, I’m barely living my life,
Despite being given the time I’ve no children or wife,
If it’s bad news; it’s bad news and that’s just the sad truth,
It’s past due and I knew that my life has passed through,
Until I get the results, I’ll just grow my own suspicions,
Actually, that’s probably the reason my phone was ringing.
---
Grab my keys, wallet and leave as I walk to the store,
My phone rings on the side table as I walk from the door,
Will I turn back, pick up or stay ignoring the call?
Actually it could be my doctor and then I’ll know the resolve,
Get the phone and said “Hello” to acknowledge that I’d answered,
He told me “I’m very sorry, you’ve tested positive for cancer”,
Speechless, the words were gone, my vocals removed,
“Now I know that it’s true, what do you suppose that I do?”
“All I can say; enjoy the time that you’ve got,
Breath in the fresh air, and live life to it’s all”,
Putting down my phone and wanting to leave,
I left the house and just wandered the streets,
Beams ricochet from the sky and glow on the floor,
The sun smiles on things I’ve never noticed before,
The late night barking dogs, the bane of my existence,
I’d always say I was a victim and that my neighbours didn’t listen,
I didn’t care about anything but trying to mute it,
But what’s barking from a dog living life to the fullest?
I might not have the time left for kids or marriage,
But enjoying my last days? Yeah, I think I’ll manage.



02/07/14 - 22 Years Old
The Broken Chains of Fennesz
Minutes bled into hours until days had passed
Since I suddenly slipped from enslavement's grasp
The markings of shackles disappear from my vision
Their crimson tint fades with my reason for living
Freedom... the idle wish of a dreaming captive
We wonder if one day we'd even have it
I never figured I'd ever have to think to plan it
Never thought of the gameplan if my wish was granted
Can you return to water a freed ship from a bottle?
Now eating in soup kitchens and sleeping in hostels
Where fleas and disease sleep under the sheets
Such a colourless contrast for something that's free
Plates suffocated in slop, the most dreary of meals
Next to fresh food consumed with Valyrian steel
But still I'd survive the slip in the standard I've lived
Had I regained my chance to interact with the kids
I get teary eyed when reminiscing upon what I leave behind
I would teach their eager minds to read and write
Their eyes viewed my presence as a fountain of wisdom
Not an ex-slave that's been reduced down to a victim
Their books wrapped in silk and each sentence I quote
Surpassing the worth and expense of my robes
Their value however... is much greater than that
When they acknowledge my knowledge I gain a way and a path
I feel more like an equal when I focus on the lessons
And yet with no goods to my name, I'm still holding some possessions
But now? Nothing, it's all been taken apart
My cabinets as empty as the space in my heart
Despite being owned and whipped like someone's mutt
I had the love that comes with unencumbered trust
A hound's mission and goal is most certainly service
Yet as man's best friend it is serving it's purpose
So if freedom is choice then I'll seal my fate
Because freedom for me... is to be a slave



… An impatient doorbell …
Unworried she had the courage to answer
An insurance salesman, she was hurrying after
The door creaked opened, “Would you like to come in?”
Her cash kind of with his, it’s no time to resist
He entered, hair slicked back thinking he’s Capone
Stinking of Cuban cigars and cheap cologne
He followed, she hobbled, her aches are hurting her
He plopped himself down on her ageing furniture
The sofa responded with a plume of dust
Particles shot up and mixed with cruel mistrust
A folder he holds with tentative clutching
The space afoul with a sense of corruption
The walls wiped with paintings of big hills and windmills
Anticipating the sale, he couldn't barely sit still
She stood softly and offered a cup of tea to her company
His eyes jarred, reluctantly he said ‘I’d love it, please’
She swooned over tea leaf steam in her tiny kitchen
As our suave salesman recited the most precise of pitching
She returns with shaky hands as tea starts to fall
He stares down at his mug, stained and hardly washed
He holds his drink as she swills her beverage
Knowing one sip down the hatch and he will regret it
Not to be rude, he just aims to sip it
Moving on from the pleasantries, he states his business
He puts his mug down on a table awash with water rings
“Now, let me explain to you what I’m offering
I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s time to do this
I’ve come to your home to sell life insurance
I’d appreciate if you sit back and listen to me”
“I’m sorry, I’m not interested in your pyramid scheme
You come with slimy plots and I aim to thwart it
You’ve only come here so you can claim my fortune”
He knocks over his drink as he would rise to attention
His knees buckle as if under sizeable tension
His sight darkens, he sees the break in his mug
As green liquid spews out as it stains on the rug
“I need to go, what’s happening? What was in that tea?”
“I’m sorry dear, you can’t do that, no one ever leaves”.



27/10/14 - 22 Years Old
The Can for Collection
On the streets I see an old man that leans back,
Relaxed, his two arms marked like road maps to relapse,
It’s sad, a drug zombie that’s rotted and now he’s dead within,
The can for collection he holds had more sense than him,
Those bumps on his arm read failure like he wrote it in Braille,
He’s not even the heroin in his own story or tale,
Does he question his intentions, is there an effort that’s made?
Is he thinking if his children still remember his face?
Or when they fend for themselves, do they hold their own?
Or stay broke at home in their broken home?
Does he recite the nights where he deserted night feeds?
Far gone are the pearly white gates with his pearly white teeth,
But still I like to imagine that there is more than addiction,
That there’s a voice within that still implores him to listen,
That finding what he doesn’t regret is like a needle in a haystack,
And what he does regret is the needle in his frail hand,
Or perhaps it’s the hopes of a fantastical mind,
And I’m pretending that my senses say this man is alive,
He’s dead, face it, the sword’s been dealt,
A hollow body, a distorted shell of his former self,
His eyes locked in a deathgrip with his can for collection,
As in the glare he stares at his damaged reflection,
So if life is a journey, then he’s just walking to hell,
We gaze eye to eye as he talks to himself.



12/09/15 - 23 Years Old
Why Do I Write Topicals?
Why I’d write a topical? That’s something that I’d ought to know,
I guess it’s cause the rapping acumen I had was nominal,
The monotonoish audios that I released were comical,
Inaudible, I write because my Scottish voice was horrible,
I say that to myself, but do I want to rock the boat?
Scared of what I’ll find if I topple all the dominoes?
I read between intentions to reveal a different question;
Are we deceitful when we mention that it’s freedom of expression?
Does it release from me some tension? A meagre way of venting?
A peaceful deed preventing of the features of depression?
Or is it preaching and presenting of a preconceived impression?
The notion that my deep emotions teaches you a lesson?
The insight that inside I know the rights and wrongs,
And when I rhyme along I somehow think that I belong?
Or is it less than that? Was it actually my fate?
When I rattle on the cage I guess my battle skills had aged,
When the day that this was rendered, maybe I surrendered?
Was I imagining some assonance would make me a contender?
Maybe I had reckoned, the day my name had lessened,
Cause I listened in my English class I’d make it as a legend?
I can sort of say it sort of made me want to walk away,
But being honest Abe I wanna make a Hall of Fame,
We treat it like these verses will, become a living journal filled,
We act like it’s external spills of words we feel are personal,
We say it’s why we rap and write but if we could believe that,
Would we join some battle sites and ask of them some feedback?
I guess we’ve all got reasons, of why a person wants to write,
A labyrinth of answers and I guess there is no wrong and right,
Since I’ve had it on my mind the thoughts I had have modified,
This alone has kept me going……I guess it keeps me occupied.




Achievements
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