I put my pen to paper and my finger to keyboard,
Create now not later - never linger on one chord,
Force thoughts to appear - flirting with aneurysm,
An absentminded seer lurking in a prism’s prison,
Make from my will an anvil and my chi a hammer,
Then shatter the veil so light spills free of damper,
Problem reverses - ideas flow too fast for my hand,
Innumerable verses which only last a mere second,
Focus is necessary - I must fashion my own Matrix,
Rhyming is secondary to my passions and hatreds,
I latch onto the twisting strand as a topic emerges,
A tale of a distant land - related via gothic dirges…
A long forgotten ruin lies dappled with sunlight,
A man is seated - effortlessly avoiding eyesight,
Impalpable weights seem to hunch his shoulders,
His neck imparts resemblance to that of vultures,
Long limbs and digits best described as gangly,
His attire attempts popularity but does so vainly,
No matter their cost clothing won’t make him fit,
Something’s wrong - just can’t lay a finger on it,
An open book rests by his side with pages worn,
While he whittles wood into a recognizable form,
Salt-stung cheeks and mustache streaked with mucus,
His knife relentlessly seeks and unearths... Canis lupus.
Silhouetted against the sky a noble figure stands,
Stars glimmer from above as he surveys his lands,
He is resilient and powerful, both agile and quick,
Given adequate intelligence and also cunning wit,
Bushy tail is lifted high and alert ears stand erect,
Tongue lolls to side while keen senses heat detect, (heat - female musk)
Loping forward the direwolf now leaves the ridge,
Sensitive nose questing as he weaves thru foliage,
A mystifying nectar entices him to move urgently,
The source lies where two paths move divergently,
The bitch turns head over shoulder - her glance is coy,
He mounts and releases but moonlight shatters the joy.
Six foot tall while stooped and two-fifty pounds,
Corded muscles undulate from powerful bounds,
Taloned hands and feet complement fanged jaws,
A silky coat covers the beast from head to paws,
Red pupils gleam - a prophecy of blood to come,
His vicious snarl makes the confused female run,
Abnormally quick he catches and tears asunder,
The body which had filled his mind with wonder,
He feasts on the remains and is finally satisfied,
Then returning sanity causes craving for suicide,
But his aether is too strong - he’s sought death before,
So he sits in his ruin and lets wolf carvings litter floor.
I count at least four morals - you might see less,
What’s better than corals - Do you wan’na guess,
Solomon said wisdom and I would tend to agree,
So in case you missed em’ listen quickly to me,
1. You can’t change your spirit it’s useless to try,
Spit your own lyric to brand your name on sky,
2. Power is a state of mind not a thing of the flesh,
Channel your soul thru rhyme to make self best,
3. Violence is the result of an ignorant condition,
So who’s actually at fault if nobody will listen,
4. Last one’s up to you and it’s whatever you want,
...Just don’t forget my ruin and it’s solitary haunt.
http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/showthread.php?t=116605
http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/showthread.php?t=116607
Reply With Quote
good stuff.s. not understanding the storyline
