Archive for the ‘fame complex’ Category

Geist of MJ

Posted: November 25, 2014 in drugs, fame complex, messiah complex

checking Youtube hits- a pop video saturday
nose up, let’s get a whiff of yesterday

a whiff of the times, the singing dead
is that his ghost urging me forward like a boy to bed

was I lost in Neverland or saved?
led by a transhuman pop legend dead and strange

she was about tell me the number of letters in her name
and the number of letters in his are the same

but I knew what she was gonna say before she said it
it’s serendipity, it’s chaos, it’s pop, it’s magic

the aliens harvest our nervous energy our want
the fame aliens and the ghost stars haunt

that’s why nobody on earth ever really fits
wanna be gods in our nervous agitated hubris

inject the current paradigm with a new sensation
they sent us him from space with groove vibration

do you think his mother and father are part of this?
all I know is the king of pop haunts the artists

we are just stuff fluff dancing on the bridges
stitches of the sun post surviving religions

don’t ask me if MJ was our new jesus christ
while I’m painting your face and rolling ten sided dice

cause I thought for a minute I was him
residue from watching the bad video remix with kids

and if these chemicals ever do wear off
I promise I’ll take off this one white glove

 

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Revenge from the formless fears
that shape my hallucinations-
Creations of societies subconscious
undaunted by my attempts at meditation-
Mediating faceless gods angels tricksters
demons flickering blue light dreams-
Revenge of reality
pulled loose at the seams-
Seems these things are immune to reason
irrational monster invisible invincible-
I can no longer trust science
or skepticism as root principle-
My foundation is shaken
I seen to many things, aliens-
Too many attempts at success
have turned out to be my failings-
Like trying to communicate with
the other confused humans wondering-
Blundering through the night with
the drone armies of ghosts bombing me-
Till my brain is the wasteland of
fictions you reject as madness-
Produced by hands that scrawl out
poison tipped lines of the savage-
I have become the mythical trick
of the messiah complex-
And I will die of the overdrawn
cure of the experimental tonics-
It’s not so complex but it’s not so simple
living in a triple vibration-
Taking in the pain of my city
while the citizens scream for salvation-

DARKWORDS AND WORLD YOU DESERVE THIS
here I come hurtling-
pissed off that you killed my luck dragon-
and picked the bones clean-
your minions have eaten-
the meat of my dreams for years-
here I come with the revenge of the meek-
for the meek shall inherit the earth-
with DARKWORDS and darker poetry-
you don’t know me-
walking the streets in front of your homes-
while my hatred grows cold and old-
like the god of death-
I breathe my first last breathe-
and exhale DARKWORDS and dark poetry-

Like the spark that started the night that
feuled the riot that stole all the bricks-
All the walls picked apart whole blocks
of the city reduced to open pits-
And the goblins come crawling out
calling out for their bum king-
Well here he resides atop his throne
mountain of bones and gold rings-
In the echoing wind tunnel of babies
crying for uncaring mothers-
I stock my hordes with your
transformed abandoned brothers-
Striped toques and fingerless gloves
wave a goblin skull banner-
Goggled eyes over sharp toothed
smiles laughing ill-mannered-

DARKWORDS AND WORLD YOU DESERVE THIS-
for being so cruel and imperfect-
turning my faeries to perverted activities-
you exist to twist my symmetry-
well I will split you with DARKWORDS and dark poetry-
hold no hope for me-
I bleed green acid twice as cancerous as your greed-
I bring three fold the corrosion of your corruption-
cause I’m thirty years old-
and all my fifteen year old angst has returned two-fold-
so behold your demise with DARKWORDS and darker poetry.

A Mantra for Making Better Lyrics

Posted: December 18, 2013 in fame complex

Lately I feel like it’s time to heal by writing rap-
Cause I can’t deal with the fact that most the shit I hear is crap-
And I just wanna be able to turn the table and say that-
Honestly, people we can be spraying better than that=
So I pick up the pen and pad and write, get this shit down in spite-
Being tired and uptight from staying all night-
Watching videos so bad they make me wanna end my life-
Its like nobody’s trying and it just ain’t right=
But I still got energy in me, if Eminem can do it then see-
I can do it too and be, proud of my own poetry-
And everything that’s happening to me-
The social stasis a disease from the tease of these celebrities=
Take it all in, let it fester, push it out, no time for hesitating doubts-
No time for imitating clowns, no time for not being creative now-
Breaking new ground from the underground-
Have you heard my new sound, here’s how=
I’ll do this whole world take over, break a new beat to spray over-
With words that I can relate to her-
Current state of slave and owners, debts payed to bankers, brokers-
One percent land holders as riot police beat the 99 soldiers=
Now I’m older with thousands owing, but as I watch my debt growing- slowly I see that I should not I condone it-
Time to own up to it, holy fuck it’s time to start paying-
So listen to what I’m saying, while I still know it=
A talent for sound, now its time show that I can write my own money-
Which will be worth more than this phoney funny-
Green queen mum on this twenty dollar being-
Rolled up to snort up the drugs that make my nose runny and stuffed up=
Yes that’s what I’m buying with it, and I know it’s scary shit-
Being thirty with a habit, that I gotta scratch at it-
Like pen scratching pad, need another hunny to fill my empty plastic bag-
Is it bad, that get inspiration from chemical lab=
That I’ve medically had my ink swapped with black blood-
Flooding out of me with love for these drugs-
Plus the tug of the ugly skin bugs-
That I pick like I pick this guitar that I hug to my chest=
As I sing and invest in my listeners, those shining star glistenings-
Take a minute with my words, its it that absurd-
That I could be as worthy as the wordsmiths you haven’t even heard-
Or that have come before me, cause surely performing=
Is a better way to make a living than getting up in the early morning-
And storming the factories of boring-
Pointless mass produced messages for the opiated-
The stupid and the horny=
Pressed up to the gates of this cage we call society-
But lately its looking more and more like a pie to me-
And I just wanna take a bite, clench my fist and fight-
Time to write a legacy not just a diary=

CAUSE I SEE PEOPLE GETTING FAMOUS-
EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE SHAMELESS-
AND THEIR SKILLS ARE SO LAME ITS-
ENOUGH TO MAKE A MAN TRIP-
SO THIS MY MANTRA TO MAKE BETTER LYRICS=

I gonna admit something to you now that’s kinda grim-
Maybe it’s something that I hide inside shouldn’t give-
But when I see rappers like Buck 65 and Eminem-
I just wanna be them not just like them=
But if I never make it famous it’s okay, they’ve-
Got nice white faces and they made it for a race-
That gets hated more and more everyday-
But I’m gonna stop saying this before you call me racist=
It seems so obvious to say this, history’s this blameless-
White space despite the rewrites we try to instill shame-
But nobody ever claims responsibility for the flames-
That have eaten up our cultures like eating cakes, it=
It’s enough me trip out my vocal chords and dick out-
And make them both puppets with my fist as the mouth-
Make a little play about what the world fails to dish out-
But I don’t feel like a vantriliquist I feel more like a fish out=
Of water, cause I’ve never really ever known my father-
And I don’t have a culture, I’m more like a vulture-
A sepultura built over the dead bones of poets altars-
Cold stones thrown at their ghosts as they falter=
Trying to read the results of my new word program code-
But those dying diodes writing odes to C-E-Os-
Of cola companies, sport teams, liquor and cell phones-
When they try to sell me a sponsorship deal, it’s like hell no=
Cause I’ve written a new program, and grown into that man-
Who will stand up while I can, be a voice for silent fans-
Who might not have the confidence or the common sense-
That apparently runs in my veins, and makes go insane=
If I don’t write, hit the stage, grab a mic and rhyme-
With all my spite and rage at this white collar crimes-
Getting whiter all the time, till I’m looking down at mine-
Has my lifestyle made me sheltered and blind=
Cause what is this cord I see going around my neck-
Is a noose of just my breathe getting tighter as I sweat-
Placing bets on an artform so upset, but I’m obsessed-
Cause I’ve come for it all and I won’t settle for any less=
Than full over-consumption, over reduction-
Over corrupted, over destruction deducted from the injustice-
The luckless fucked up it sucks the generational rut kids-
Paying out their eyelids trying to get an education=
But now their taking our very inner mind space, sideways-
I try to keep pace as fast as the ads that replace and erase-
A meaning that used to be there but now it’s so laced-
With pop-ups in your face it’s like your brain is being maced=
With the buy buy buy me and the owe owe owe-
Until I see my visa bill and it’s like oh shit no-
Now I need a line of credit with more zeroes than I thought possible-
That I’ll ever get back into the black is quite implausible=

CAUSE I SEE PEOPLE GETTING FAMOUS-
EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE SHAMELESS-
AND THEIR SKILLS ARE SO LAME ITS-
ENOUGH TO MAKE A MAN TRIP-
SO THIS MY MANTRA TO MAKE BETTER LYRICS=

The sirens keep piling up in my mind, living downtown life-
Cars go by, with the bad lyrics pumped into the night-
They bear the most trivial word choice, banal and trite-
Sell outs making millions and its just not quite right=
Cause all they sing about is clubs, drinking, money and drugs-
Talking like teeny bobbing babies that think their falling in love-
“She’s my molly, he’s my Patron, money’s all I ever think of”-
How low will we all sink before its time to get this cleaned up=
They re-use the bass beats, they re-use the hooks-
It ain’t stealing if it’s a re-mix, I’m artist not a crook-
But wait most of the real artists are dead now look-
We idolize a fantomas spectral reality mistook=
Until our heads are haunted houses of semiotic impulses-
Its so trifle that they can try to sell this way of life as a culture-
But I can smell the empty shells we build around ourselves-
Still found yourself delving into late night internet shopping hell=
There’s so much work to do in a world of robot sheep-
Who spend their days listening to other robots beep-
As the auto-tuned voices of every pop star distort conformity-
I refuse to be passive and asleep, but rather massive and achieved=
No longer will my creativity be inactive or chaste-
I will make every cookie cutter shaped celebrity pay for bad taste-
Forced to watch me use my pen hand to fist their muses in the face-
Cause if you can’t amuse the masses than your ass is getting replaced=

CAUSE I SEE PEOPLE GETTING FAMOUS-
EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE SHAMELESS-
AND THEIR SKILLS ARE SO LAME ITS-
ENOUGH TO MAKE A MAN TRIP-
SO THIS MY MANTRA TO MAKE BETTER LYRICS=