Freestyle...typingA Poem by Apparitionnot a literal freestyle because in the time it took me to type each line I had a little more time to think about the next one, still a freestyle of sorts...Freestyle typing Fingers fast as lightning Frightening thoughts are brought to my head with lightning rod antennas made of imitation led Legislations dead, breaking bred is overrated This is the release of my mental constipation Need more time for contemplation, all the rhymes are condensation Equations of syntax, I send sheets of fact to fleets of lab rats who look with drab slabs of confused glances Infused in psychedelic trances are microcosmic answers Chance of sense derived from my words, minimal Perhaps that's just me being cynical, I almost at the pinnacle of literal word witchcraft, so sit back and take a hit of this whiplash It tastes like a cashed bowl of hash, so get smashed get mashed, get passed the past, and relax It's better than a rash in your a*s from being dragged through the grass a flag soaked in blood is better than a flag burned to ash This is freestyle typing, the exact opposite of senile writing Meanwhile, I'm fighting with republicrats, I love the fact that the liberals say I'm out of whack and conservative, Meanwhile the republicans call me a treasonous and murderous liberal Then wonder why I become uncivil, that's so typical The American arrogant hypocrite syndicate, a bunch of subservient idiots ridiculous, so sick of this, innocuous product of topics of nonsense must condense a dollar to three cents, free is in the past tense I'm past tense, I just passed some tents, and sheds and shacks where there used to bread in stacks, now there are crumbs and scraps I'm just about done with that, thought, that fleeting fear of getting caught tongue-tied has self actuated I f****n lost the thought and flow, so I'll stop © 2009 Apparition |
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1 Review Added on December 2, 2009 Last Updated on December 24, 2009 AuthorApparitionfive thousand two hundred and eighty away from wavesAboutI am an apparition, a ghost in the system, the host's no longer the victim, the parasite grows weary of the barely alive flesh dressed in a hardly harrowing death caressed mess, stressful doesn't trul.. more..Writing
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