deepundergroundpoetry.com
Feudal Hood
Pain aches off of me,
Waking my zen
Like a tracheotomy with a pen.
Bereaving my breathing,
Leaving out doubt,
Turning critics into believers.
Then cleaving them with growling clout.
Like the Howling, with 2 legged sheep left out…
…side where bare souls ride…
…like ticks that grow on bear hide
On the nose of a werewolf spy.
Bless this punishing jest like Hitler’s SS,
Alluded in the last jabber of whim.
Seething at their stance
Because that branch colluded with the Vatican
Since before WWII began.
But that’s a slow flow for another firebomb again.
Pain aches off of me,
Waking my zen
Like a tracheotomy with a pen.
Playing it without straining in slaying
But patiently waiting
Like ancient cave paintings,
Chilling ‘til discovery.
I’m really sore with historical editorialism
And ill from dragging early wisdom
Through the mud. I’ve got cro-magnon
Burly vision in my blood. I’m a dragon
Unfurled on a mission to rub and change fate
When I’m gristling like the whistling of a patriot missile.
Death from above
When it escapes and takes a piss on a SCUD!
A clever twist because I never miss
And when entangled my manimal berserk
Will wrangle every angle to work
Like biomechanics in physics.
I get high and man-handle missives
Like the Genie angrily strangling Aladdin
For unseemly wishes.
No abstaining but leaving stains and taints
Over which angels are praying.
Playing it without straining in slaying
But patiently waiting
Like ancient cave paintings,
Chilling ‘til discovery.
Utter a spree and it flutters from me
Like a butterfly starting a breeze.
Playing once, saying what I want,
Spraying up front, slaying after one blunt.
Invoking truth cut loose before I choke
Like a soldier in a noose.
End of his life-miles, time to rend open the files.
No yoke anymore or excuse; just let it ring true.
I’m free so I can see my spree and prove my duty
Under scrutiny to bring it home to you.
This is Captain Mutiny. Using this snapping opportunity:
Arraying my bits when blitzed
To slay my biz the same way I raise my kids:
For fucking keeps! I’m sore with lucky sheeps
And secondary fathers. Why do you reckon they bother?
Staying hungry like the step-fathers of our country.
Crumbling democracy before stumbling theocracy.
Mild synergy in wild energy
But as a child who glimmered tragedies
There remains miles of style from memory:
Some fogey from the hood
Spoke to me as clear as he could
While drunkenly mumbling and stressed about kleptocracy.
Seethe when you see those 3 the last K-CY?
Is a nation run by thieves.
Don’t know why I didn’t riff that into a joke
About KY with fatcats on their knees.
I’m not filled with hate but ill will in fate
Was clear to me. Kleptocracy’s truth
Sunk in when that drunk was mumbling way back when…
Before I rhymed this much.
I was 9, so as such it was 1988.
U.S. and We the people were already in such a state.
True to me I invested in my mental real estate.
Got ready to escape.
These days I’m steady with a jape.
Filling riffs by spilling quick some ill shit
That I can’t stop ‘til my pants pop,
Standing on their own. I’m standing on top,
Handling the throne. The span of my RAM rocks;
It’s got me scrambling hot from the dome.
I wrangle chops entangled with the homes.
The universe has me befuddled
So every blooming curse is a puzzle.
Zoom in because I’m never terse or muzzled.
Weighing every hunch, paying by tons,
Spraying ill thrillers like Godzilla
Ridden by Attila the Hun,
Cutting loose with my lucid tongue.
No more excuse not to groove what I subtle-spun,
Muddled for fun, cursed verses
Hotter than huddling with the Sun…
Playing once, saying what I want,
Spraying up front, slaying to speak
When the praying to bullies weak
Are braying to shriek
“Our secrets… please… don’t!”
Waking my zen
Like a tracheotomy with a pen.
Bereaving my breathing,
Leaving out doubt,
Turning critics into believers.
Then cleaving them with growling clout.
Like the Howling, with 2 legged sheep left out…
…side where bare souls ride…
…like ticks that grow on bear hide
On the nose of a werewolf spy.
Bless this punishing jest like Hitler’s SS,
Alluded in the last jabber of whim.
Seething at their stance
Because that branch colluded with the Vatican
Since before WWII began.
But that’s a slow flow for another firebomb again.
Pain aches off of me,
Waking my zen
Like a tracheotomy with a pen.
Playing it without straining in slaying
But patiently waiting
Like ancient cave paintings,
Chilling ‘til discovery.
I’m really sore with historical editorialism
And ill from dragging early wisdom
Through the mud. I’ve got cro-magnon
Burly vision in my blood. I’m a dragon
Unfurled on a mission to rub and change fate
When I’m gristling like the whistling of a patriot missile.
Death from above
When it escapes and takes a piss on a SCUD!
A clever twist because I never miss
And when entangled my manimal berserk
Will wrangle every angle to work
Like biomechanics in physics.
I get high and man-handle missives
Like the Genie angrily strangling Aladdin
For unseemly wishes.
No abstaining but leaving stains and taints
Over which angels are praying.
Playing it without straining in slaying
But patiently waiting
Like ancient cave paintings,
Chilling ‘til discovery.
Utter a spree and it flutters from me
Like a butterfly starting a breeze.
Playing once, saying what I want,
Spraying up front, slaying after one blunt.
Invoking truth cut loose before I choke
Like a soldier in a noose.
End of his life-miles, time to rend open the files.
No yoke anymore or excuse; just let it ring true.
I’m free so I can see my spree and prove my duty
Under scrutiny to bring it home to you.
This is Captain Mutiny. Using this snapping opportunity:
Arraying my bits when blitzed
To slay my biz the same way I raise my kids:
For fucking keeps! I’m sore with lucky sheeps
And secondary fathers. Why do you reckon they bother?
Staying hungry like the step-fathers of our country.
Crumbling democracy before stumbling theocracy.
Mild synergy in wild energy
But as a child who glimmered tragedies
There remains miles of style from memory:
Some fogey from the hood
Spoke to me as clear as he could
While drunkenly mumbling and stressed about kleptocracy.
Seethe when you see those 3 the last K-CY?
Is a nation run by thieves.
Don’t know why I didn’t riff that into a joke
About KY with fatcats on their knees.
I’m not filled with hate but ill will in fate
Was clear to me. Kleptocracy’s truth
Sunk in when that drunk was mumbling way back when…
Before I rhymed this much.
I was 9, so as such it was 1988.
U.S. and We the people were already in such a state.
True to me I invested in my mental real estate.
Got ready to escape.
These days I’m steady with a jape.
Filling riffs by spilling quick some ill shit
That I can’t stop ‘til my pants pop,
Standing on their own. I’m standing on top,
Handling the throne. The span of my RAM rocks;
It’s got me scrambling hot from the dome.
I wrangle chops entangled with the homes.
The universe has me befuddled
So every blooming curse is a puzzle.
Zoom in because I’m never terse or muzzled.
Weighing every hunch, paying by tons,
Spraying ill thrillers like Godzilla
Ridden by Attila the Hun,
Cutting loose with my lucid tongue.
No more excuse not to groove what I subtle-spun,
Muddled for fun, cursed verses
Hotter than huddling with the Sun…
Playing once, saying what I want,
Spraying up front, slaying to speak
When the praying to bullies weak
Are braying to shriek
“Our secrets… please… don’t!”
Published 2nd Oct 2012
| Edited 15th Jun 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 925
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
