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05-24-06, 09:29 AM | #1 | |||
1926
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"1969 Scribbled the Midnight Stars" ft. Po' Wit
IP: 0825 899A
Regular - WhiteOut
Itallics - Myself A life spilled like a cheap wine glass, all soaked up by frets and strings of a symbolic stratacaster guitar. Dispersed unto the eager ears of, those trembling bodies who thrive off of a soul food to motivate their dull lives. An elephants ballet for encore; Their ivory flutes whistle cords, Collapsing structural staffs Of modern day conventionalism. A pick plucking; embodying sounds of pain, sorrow, love, anger, and a drug; a drug to single-handedly manipulate the mind of man and create marvelous art. A voice to preach a thousand followers, an extravagant melody to move a million, imagery in words which can be seen, through the thickest of clouded minds. Rainbows tango in a furrowed brow As the elephants begin to parade On deaf ears of a lost generate. As the corpses fall, and ash Dances hand in hand with the wind, The bones of what was falter In the limboing finger tips of today, And the flutes shatter to thousands. Dark tinted shades that act as walls between eyes of a musical god, and the eyes of his dedicated apostles. A life chapter ends like Isaiah, a mentor solemnly steps off stage, the light in which lit up his life fades, and the apostles scream his name one last time. The pieces slip the nooses of Trembling octaves to decorate ebony, Before midnight casts collapsed And the abstract attached... To reach a vision of strata-cast. |
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05-31-06, 04:40 PM | #2 | |||||
All these Dead Presidents
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IP: A494 32A5
C'mon ppl. Look @ this poem and shit.
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