this is now a poetry thread.

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  1. #21
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    Quote Originally Posted by Frank White
    "Today's agenda, got the suitcase up in the Sentra
    Go to room 112, tell them Blanco sent ya
    Feel the strangest, if no money exchanges
    I got these kids in Ranges, to leave them niggas brainless
    All they tote is stainless, you just remain as
    Calm as possible, make the deal go through
    If not, here's 12 shots, we know how you do
    Please make your killings clean, slugs up in between
    They eyes, like True Lies, kill them and flee the scene
    Just bring back the coke or the cream
    Or else, your life is on the shelf, we mean this, Frank
    Them cats we fucking with put bombs in your mom's gas tank"

    "Let's get this money baby, they shady, we get shady
    Dress up like ladies and burn them with dirty .380s
    Then they come to kill our babies, that's all out
    I got gats that blow the wall out, clear them all out
    Fuck the fallout, word to Stretch I bet they pussy
    The seven digits push me, fucking real, here's the deal
    I got a hundred bricks, 14,5 a piece
    Enough to cop a 6, buy the house on the beach
    Supply the peeps with Jeeps, brick apiece, capiche?
    Everybody getting cream no one considered a leech"

    Think about it now, that's damn near 1.5
    I kill them all I'll be set for life

    "Frank, pay attention
    These motherfuckers is henchmen, renegades
    If you die they still get paid, extra probably
    fuck a robbery, I'm the boss
    Promise you won't rob 'em,"

    "I promise"
    But of course you know I had my fingers crossed


    Since it's on, I call my nigga Arizona Ron
    From Tuscon, push the black Yukon
    Usually had the slow grooves on, mostly rock the Isley
    Stupid as a young one, chose not the moves wisely
    Sharper with game, him and his crooks caught a Jooks
    Heard it was sweet, about 350 apiece
    Ron bought a truck, two bricks laid in the cut
    His peeps got bucked, got locked the fuck up
    That's when Ron vanished, came back, speaking Spanish
    Lavish habits, two rings, twenty carats
    He's a criminal, nigga made America's Most
    Killed his baby mother brother, slit his throat
    The nigga got bagged with the toast
    Weeded, took it to trial, beat it
    Now he feel he undefeated, he mean it
    Nothing to lose, tattooed around his gun wounds
    Everything to gain, embedded in his brain
    And me I feel the same for this money you dying
    'Specially if my daughter crying, I ain't lying
    Y'all know the science


    We agreed to go in shooting is silly
    Because niggas could be hiding in showers with mac-mills
    So I freaked them, the telly manager was Puerto Rican
    Gloria, from Astoria, I went to war with her
    Peeps in ninety-one, stole a gun from my workers
    And they took drugs, they tried to jerk us
    We blazed they place -- long story. Glo' seen my face
    Got shook, thought a nigga was coming for the safe
    Now she breaking

    "Shut up. 112, what's shaking?"

    "A Jamaican, some bitches I swear, they look gay
    And a black Range Rover, been outside all day
    If it's trouble let me know, I'll be on my way
    Please, I got kids to feed, I done seen you make niggas bleed
    Nightmare, this bitch don't need"

    "Ron, get the gasoline, this spot, we about to blow this
    Get the cash before the cops and Range Rover cats notice"

    Room 112, right by the staircase, perfect place
    When they evacuate, they meet they fate

    "Ron pass the gasoline," -- the nigga passed me kerosene
    Fuck it, it's flame-able, my hunger is unexplainable
    Strike the match, just what I expected
    The dread kid ejected in seconds
    And here come two, opposite sexes, one black, one Malaysian
    We in the hallway waiting patient
    As soon as she hit the door we start blasting
    I saw her brains hit the floor, Ron laughing, I swear to God
    I hit Maxi Priest at least twelve times in the chest
    Spinned around, shot the bitch in the breast
    She crying, head shots put her to rest
    Pop open the briefcases, nothing but Franklin faces
    The spot's hot, sprinklers, alarm systems
    That's when other guests start to slip in
    It's time for us to get to dipping
    I know them niggas in the Range is on they way up
    Flipping, pistol gripping, I load the clip in
    The hallway, got real loud and crowded
    They walked right past us, I don't know how they allowed it
    The funny thing about it, through all the excitement
    They Range got towed, they double parked by a hydrant

    Stupid motherfuckers
    . .

  2. #22
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    You will not be able to stay home, brother
    You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out
    You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and
    Skip out for beer during commercials
    Because the revolution will not be televised

    The revolution will not be televised
    The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
    In 4 parts without commercial interruptions
    The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
    Blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
    Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
    Hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary
    The revolution will not be televised

    The revolution will not be brought to you by the
    Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
    Wood and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia
    The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal
    The revolution will not get rid of the nubs
    The revolution will not make you look five pounds
    Thinner, because the revolution will not be televised, Brother

    There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mays
    Pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run
    Or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance
    NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
    Or report from 29 districts
    The revolution will not be televised

    There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
    Brothers in the instant replay
    There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
    Brothers in the instant replay
    There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
    Run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process
    There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
    Wilkins strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
    Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
    For just the right occasion

    Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
    Junction will no longer be so Goddamn relevant, and
    Women will not care if Dick finally gets down with
    Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
    Will be in the street looking for a brighter day
    The revolution will not be televised

    There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
    News and no pictures of hairy armed women
    Liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose
    The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb
    Or Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
    Jones, Johnny Cash, or Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare Earth
    The revolution will not be televised

    The revolution will not be right back after a message
    About a white tornado, white lightning, or white people
    You will not have to worry about a Dove in your
    Bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl
    The revolution will not go better with Coke
    The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath
    The revolution will put you in the driver's seat

    The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised
    Will not be televised, will not be televised
    The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
    The revolution will be live

    -Gil Scott-Heron
    I hate TALKING. to PEOPLE. about THINGS.

  3. #23
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    "Rules do not exist to bind you, they exist so you may know your freedoms"

    Be careful of what you say, tomorrow or today, for the words you now speak, may become the poison your enemies later seek; truth.
    http://myanimelist.net/animelist/Kashis
    Smash Bros 3DS NNID Sliphatos (1762-2677-2366)

  4. #24
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    I had it all laid out, the plan was perfect
    It didn't seem difficult, but I never attempted it
    Whenever I had a chance, I would just let it go
    I always had my greeting, but never could say hello

    Nothing obstructing, nothing preventing
    Everything ready, opportunity awaiting
    The moment arrived and upon preparing to act
    I realized that there was something I lacked

    My mind raced for a conclusion that wasn't even there
    My voice began to struggle as if it were searching for air
    I started reasoning with myself that this won't even work
    I stood mute and afraid and feeling like a complete jerk

    I thought about what could happen and what likely wouldn't
    I expected success although I sensed that I shouldn't
    Imagining an outcome based on a prediction
    Was just an excuse for abandoning my conviction

    Seeing myself waver and succumbing to my dread
    Lead me to avoid this conflict and instead
    Construct and believe in an alternate reality
    In which I could be someone who wasn't me

    Able to converse with relative ease
    To anyone available as much as I please
    I'd be witty, entertaining and astonishingly insightful
    Who's wonderful stories were extraordinary and delightful

    Our conversation complete, I'd wave and say goodbye
    But in reality, they leave without knowing I can even say hi
    So, alone I go home and in disappointment I sigh
    Not because of my failure, but because I never even try
    "Rules do not exist to bind you, they exist so you may know your freedoms"

    Be careful of what you say, tomorrow or today, for the words you now speak, may become the poison your enemies later seek; truth.
    http://myanimelist.net/animelist/Kashis
    Smash Bros 3DS NNID Sliphatos (1762-2677-2366)

  5. #25
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    Silence by Marianne Moore

    My father used to say,
    "Superior people never make long visits,
    have to be shown Longfellow's grave
    nor the glass flowers at Harvard.
    Self reliant like the cat --
    that takes its prey to privacy,
    the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth --
    they sometimes enjoy solitude,
    and can be robbed of speech
    by speech which has delighted them.
    The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence;
    not in silence, but restraint."
    Nor was he insincere in saying, "`Make my house your inn'."
    Inns are not residences.


    Lesson 1 by Julie Hill Alger

    At least I've learned this much:
    Life doesn't have to be
    all poetry and roses. Life
    can be bus rides, gritty sidewalks,
    electric bills, dishwashing,
    chapped lips, dull stubby pencils
    with the erasers chewed off,
    cheap radios played too loud,
    the rank smell of stale coffee
    yet still glow
    with the inner fire of an opal,
    still taste like honey.


    Sonogram by Paul Muldoon

    Only a few weeks ago, the sonogram of Jean's womb
    resembled nothing so much
    as a satellite map of Ireland:

    now the image
    is so well-defined we can make out not only a hand
    but a thumb;

    on the road to Spiddal, a woman hitching a ride;
    a gladiator in his net, passing judgement on the crowd.

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