Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Wow my raps blow. Wretched poetry.

Brazen like a raisin in the sun
Masochistically crackling, that son of a gun
Got more than three strikes, I'm fucking done
Batter, batter out now let's just have some fun
I'm better at the art of being unattached
Once so emotional, now so detached
It's so beneficial to keep this door unlatched
If you build it, it will come
Not as quick as the puke when I sip some rum
Hitchhike to a different plane, up goes my thumb
No more gritting and bearing like I'm chomping gum
How much longer can I abstain from?
Patience is a virtue so I'll sweep my crumbs
You didn't fuck me up, don't get that satisfaction
Don't flatter yourself there's not a shred of attraction
Befuddle me with your severe reactions
Don't kid yourself, you're ambivalent
This ain't a first, there's many equivalents 
Sorry but I'm pleased with myself where I'm at
When toil called, I came straight to bat
The oddities of the commodities I gathered
Threw it all up into one sudsy lather
Rabid dog, oozing foam as I simultaneously blather
Analyze each piece like a crime scene
Call me James Dean, but I'm not cool
I'm just astute---ha, April Fool's 

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