Macabre-Miasma

Dead trees,winter breeze I can feel my flesh freeze Where are the birds and the bees They probably flew south so that they wouldn't freeze From the cold dark depths of the sea Heavy mist rises up to my knees Now rising higher till I can't see Gosh damn it's cold,I'm going to freeze

What does the world think of something like me? Something isolated that fades away into gray. Something that holds a grudge and seeks vengeance. Something that wallows in misery's gallows. Something that wants to save and damn. Something that speaks to itself when alone. Something wicked with humanity gone. What do you think of me? If I walked around with a fake smile would you accept me? If I wore over priced clothes would you love me? If I fought your battles would you knight me? If I spoke your legend would you agknowledge me? If I bowed before you would you dictate me? If I feared your wrath would you destroy me? What do you

Trapped within a dark and cold box of iron Long since cut off from the warmth of another I try over and over again to claw my way out I cannot as the sea of life's ever criticizing wave consumes me Drowning me within a whirlpool of dirt, darkness, and despair The verbal worms and insects drive me back down to the Earth Slamming me into my casket of sorrow Tightening savagely around my soul Crushing my frail spirit and Psyche I fade away into black as the pain is too much

Knowledge is power,gift and curse Knowledge is yours,for best or for worst It is power,and as such a tool Usable for benevolent or manevolent rule You may use it to aid every woman and man Alternatively you may crush every fool that stands Shall you take mass responsibilites like the legendary thinkers Wise words,advanced technology,strong politics,and vast tinkers Or perhaps when knowledge's orders become too tall Use a firearm to splatter your knowledge on a wall Yes,Indeed knowledge is a bane and a boon Yes,Always shall clouds of self destruction loom Self destruction,self doubt,self loathing,and selflessness Madness and agony

These Words Aren't Pretty: My verses are ugly and I admit to the fact I can't use pretty language when I'm working with rap Because the things that I write, are just the things that I feel I ain't an Edgar Allan Poe or a Danielle Steel And I'll be honest with you, I've got an envy inside Because some poets got a flow that's as smooth as the tide I read some stuff that they write, it's just so dope I ignite Burning shame and my anger at the beautiful sight And like birds of a feather, they're flocking together These poets are the Gods and I'm nailed by the weather But as the rain pours down, lightning resound; I try to write pretty