Unfinished product
People don’t write with pens,
They write with sins,
Generations and trends, money and friends, enemies and kin.
Life is the only pipe I try, and that’s begrudgingly don’t ask why.
Knee deep in ankle high’s,
With penny loafers on my dimes.
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Feelings follow faith, forcefully fighting realities intervention in fictions visions.
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Why pay the lawyer cuz its free to lie, what does it cost to live cuz its free to die
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Sharpen your skills before you taste the cold hard steel of a true wordsmith, reading Wordsworth to discover what man has done to man, like Four LoKo’s and spray on tans
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“Old School”
Life is a tricky gift
Full of love and ambience
But fortunes quickly shift
And we’re left to reminisce.
So shines the brightest day
Which lights the pedaled path
But some say-
It never decides to stay.
To the victor goes the spoil
But leave greatness unattended
Sans persistence and toil
Offenses arise which cannot be defended.
Father time makes everyone clock out
But does everyone punch in
Pray that you leave stout
But understand you began in sin.
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I’m a guided missile or a straight arrow, on the straight and narrow. Yeah, I’m a man on a mission, so I hope your plans have plans of submission.
Questions
What would you do?
If you every dream and desire lay before you on a plate,
next to a T-bone steak,
and the chef let it marinate,
in fate.
He spiced it with destiny’s rice,
and laced the gravy with Prometheus’ foresight.
What if every dish, whether poultry or fish,
had a miniature flick of your life’s next trip?
What if every platter put your mind over matter
and made all your problems scatter?
What if every tray,
was fashioned after the greatest fashions of today?
Not to mention it mirrored the myriads of visions and images
you thought of as much as sentences did periods.
What if for dessert,
you got to desert all work,
and shirk all responsibility?
But before you sit down and devour
for an hour,
this meal fit for a king
you must ask yourself a question…
Who is the orchestrator of this seduction?
Now what if the answer was a cancer that could lead you nowhere but death and destruction?
What if the originator of the lie prepared you the sweetest pie, grinned at you and sat it down with a twinkle in his eye?
Now what would you do?
Venting
Let me tell you why people hate cops,
cuz man is sinful,
evil and resentful,
they sleep with strangers but kill their kinfolk,
how can you judge me, when you can’t even trust what you see,
eye witness testimony is the least credible
so check your credit before you convict me,
even if a mountain of evidence proclaimed my innocence it won’t be more than a split decision victory,
and they say victory loves preparation so prepare to meet your maker.
FLOW
I ride bikes in nike’s on the back of dikes and fly kites in kittens kitchens just to give blind men vision, stay short or quip, not good enough to retire, might as well quit, cuz you’re not thoroughly equipped, with the skill set, I’m a skilled vet, veterans come home here’s a veterinarian treat, you’re a sick pup soon to be deceased, I put you down send you to a local Chinese buffet and watch you end up as an entree by sunday, the sun sets on max lifts and heavy reps hard body but soft chest, no heart under his kevlar vest, plus they can’t protect his mind from the video vixens that twirl and flex, a fixture of his vision rendering life fiction but the pages have no captions or depictions, criminal crimson, leave evidence of a bleeding pilgrim in the film room watching high lights of his high life, its Miller time so you know them three’s gone fly right.
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