Quiet Poetry Lounge : My style is corrupt as the money pile up like saving bonds


Well-Known Member
May 11, 2006
My style is corrupt as the money pile up like saving bonds
Craving for fun and not bazaar guns find myself slaving beyond
A nine to five job, walk easy and talk sleezy fought with greasy
MC’S my thumb hurt now, siting out in the wind kinda breezy
with words do a surprise attack using wise facts realize my back
unprotected my movie star act is rejected rcognize I need to backtrack
my life a **** disaster want power like the wife of an Ambassador
Rip through static with diplomatic knives like highlander a sword crafter
reading a bold novel trying to become a role model and then a master
with anointed visions appointed on missions to bring about peace ever after
my psycho topics are microscopics cats can’t see me with
glasses on, tashes zones like leaky garbage trucks no gift
being a jitterbug and seeing as a bitter thug handcuffs drift
imprisioned unjustly so my visions are rusty no bale assigned
have to do jail time with a failed mind, a pathetic rape online
caught on a magnetic tape press rewind a medic made a great find
through DNA


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