the puppit or the string (re done version)

However naïve, it may prove to be, I still believe, that there is more to living, than this sheared, parade, of constant upkeep. More than the maintenance, just be patient, they told you, in time you will find what is right, just sit tight , stay safe, and just wait, and if you just breathe. but if thats all your expecting of, or, got contending for me, than I would walk from cinder block to cinderblock, across this great divide, just to provide, you with one question, if its only impressions, you seek, improvised scenes, to this thing you call existing, why would we be convincing, persisting, to put on this puppet show and who out there beyond the dashboard, cardboard, is waiting just to see, us get all tangled up in out own strings? Because without a meaning, beyond breathing, to it, or at least tips, who is there to play nice with? Who is it that you want me to please?
As if we had forgotten, everything that went rotten, when we went complaining, blaming, as if we had called it because it was raining, but forgot that we had been playing, indoor hide and seek, and it is something, like me, contradicting, blatantly. With rhymes, to little time, and too much whine falling from my lips, I must admit, I have never been much of a fan, of this thing that they call poetry. It is something like me, because I will never be, a rapper, even on Halloween, although I cant be the candy it covers, could never be sweet, at least sweeter than rubber, not so much pretty, as its just surprising, like hail in the summer, you cant help but wonder, if it was ever meant to be, like a teardrop, I am salty, almost makes you sick, like all the bullshit, but in that you can trust, even when you are just, pleasantly remembering.
And I intend to make the bed I plan to lay in before I go to sleep, 6 feet, beneath the things, I never chose to be, and maybe thats just never been the way I like to dream, and I think there is so much more to this thing than you could follow, suggest you sip it slow before you swallow, all these things you never chose to see, and I bet every no and again, way back when, you were just like me, like us, like we, we the living, when you werent just too scared to be.

tammera

Category:

Entertainment

Tags:

• poetry
• rap
• flow
• spoken word
• spoken poetry
• writing

[1Aware1]

no, you did not dance with me at a club, maybe we did but i definetly dont have a phone number on any website. thanks for the link though i will have to find out whats going on. but i am NOT actually on this site.

[VisionGhostPoet]

I see what you mean by lyricist. Have you ever though of putting a backing track to this, it deffo had rhythm! Five'd & Fav'd