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What are you waiting for?

The one that got away....

The one I love, the one I'll keep

In your arms, I will ever be

To hold your beauty, should be a sin

Then sin I will, again and again

Like a burning Phoenix, flames of bright

Be by your side, till the day I die

My love for you can never end

Erernity with you, I shall ever spend

What lies Beneath

The rage that consumes the fire that burns
My heart cries out for what it yearns
 
Causing more than pain this mark of despair
For these things i create I should not care
 
My mind is hindered for things of love
Feeling less than innocent dove
 
My true power the world must not see
Aided by the deadly force of the sea
 
My heart is gentle and soft as pure gold
But a dark abbyss envlope my soul
 
The mark of a demon is what I possess
Death to shall come nonetheless
 
My left hand that carries the pain
You shall meet it when you see the end
 
All who claim to love me hypocrites they are
For I have seen no love hus far
 
My family is what should support me with care
But money meens nothing when they ceep you in a snare
 
Trapped forever in the rules of my family's game
Brought to nothing but eternal pain
 
The anger that consumes my soul
The destroyer that will destroy you all
 
-The Cataclypse

My Truth

Avalanches rolling through my skull, destroying my pure thoughts, corroding my ideas, blending both sides of my thought process so that all is obscured and intertwined. No longet recognizable my soul cries out in anguish , searching for a beacon to guide it from the self-destruction it seeks. Listen for the bellowing sound my soul cannot ommit, resonating so far its deluded by space and time. See what evils are hidden from your simplistic sight, and feel the pain burdened on my shoulders for an eternity, yet I am oblivious to the pain. Suspended in an unescapable cage deep within my mind, only able to peer outward as if watching someone else act in my stead, yearning to once more be able to control my body. Silenced I am at every sound uttered from my pitiful lungs, suffocated by unrelenting assailants, and betrayed in so many ways it has become a familiarity. Denied the individuality I have sought out for so many years, cast aside as if all I have done was worht less than nothing, as you slit my soul where the stiches keep what's left together, sharpening their egos ever more. Locked away so far that light no longer shines me a path, darkness is all I am surrounded by within, each brick you place in my way burries me, further seperating my true self from their gaze. Still it is my undying love for them that i forever endure their unintentional onslaught, left never to feel whole again, whats left of my soul is still being ripped away. Nothing about my reality is true anymore, for you all have made certain of that, hopefully one day you will let me be my true self, and i shall finally return gleaming brighter than the cosmos. When they can learn to accept the horrid truth in it's purest form and see the monsters they have truly become, that shall be the day they witness my truest form.

I’m a P.i.m.p so you no what that means

I stay flossy fresh and keep my grill clean

Got diamonds in my mouth while I puff on that green

Stacks of my money in the bank so you no what that means

@

I’m a P.I.M.P. still keepin’ it G

I’m tired of these niggas mean muggin on me

Step up to the mike I’ll show ya what i mean

 

Cuz I’m nithin but a doped out lyrical feind

verse 2

I move heavy weight like a elephant

Blowin so much smoke people think its my element

blazed flyin through the sky higher than a jumbo jet

I get money from tha streets so rappin’s irrelevant

@

But still im in tha club rippin my slang while you punk ass niggas still spittin the same

That lame game you all think its tha shit but when i step to tha mike you all decide to quit

so you fall of the stage like a bitch im so blazed smokin dro somewhere in a ditch

and thats the life of a real G still livin like a motha fuckin P.I.M.P.

I am Death

Only fools cannot decide

When to live or when to die

But when they atone for their first sin

Only then will they begin

To comprehend life’s truest pains

While I grab Death’s scythful reigns

For only then can you really see

What it is to truly be

 

An ember in the blackest sky

Waiting on Death to pass you by

From his blade comes a drop of blood

Drowning you in a crimson flood

My scything hand yee not dishearten

The soul of my nearest fellow Spartan

But what it is to truly see

My soul calling in misery

 

A life of death is my greatest sin

A sorrowful tone my soul should hymn

So act a fool and you will see

Just how sharp my blade will be

Cut you down with no remorse

Setting sail on blackest course

To understand what lies in my mind

Circling the universe with unending time

For what I know and what I see

Is not for you and made for me

 

Reaping souls is my accursed gift

Killing on every millennia’s fifth

To see blackest death and crimson red

Is to truly know that I am dead

 

There was a young fellow from sparta.

A really magnificent farter.

On the strength of one bean He’d fart "God save the Queen,"

And Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.

He could vary, with proper persuasion.

His fart to suit any occasion.

He could fart like a flute,

Like a lark, like a lute,

This highly fartistic caucasian.

This sparkling young fella from sparta,

His fart for no money would barter.

He could roar from his rear

Any scene from shakespear,

Or Gilbert and Sullivan Mikado.

Nobody could play the classics finer,

As he showed me one day at the diner,

I had a bagel with lox

While he played from his buttox:

Chopin’s Etude #12 in C-minor.

He’d fart a gavotte for starter,

And fizzle a fine serenata.

He could play from his anus

The Coriolanus:

Oof, boom, er-tum, tootle, yum tah-dah!

He was great in the Christmas Cantana,

He could double-stop fart the Toccata,

He’d boom from his ass, Bach’s B-Minor Mass,

And in counterpoint, La Triviata

Spurred on by a very high wager,

With an envious German named Bager,

He’d proceeded to fart

The complete oboe part

Of Haydn Octet in B-Major.

His reportoire ranged from classic to jazz,

He achieved new effects with bubbles of gas.

With a good dose of salts

He could whistle a waltz

Or swiling it in razzamatazz.

His basso profound with timbre so rare,

He rendered quite often with power to spare.

But his great work of art,

His fortissimo fart,

He saved the Marche Militaire.

One day he was dared to perform

The William Tell Overture Storm,

But naught could dishearten

Our spirited Spartan,

For fart was in wonderful form.

It went off with capital style,

And he farted it through with a smile,

Then, feeling quite jolly, he tried the finale,

Blowing double-stop farts all the while.

The selection was tough I admit.

But it did not dismay him one bit,

Then, with his ass thrown aloft

He suddenly coughed.....

And collapsed in a shower of shit.

His bunghole was blown back to sparta,

Where they buried they rest of our farter,

With a gravestone of turds inscribed with the words:

"To the Fine Art of Farting, A Martyr."

Demon inside?

Flames shall devour
Shadows will embrace
Hide from them all
Thy beautiful face

Darkness must hold
Darkness must bind
Hide from your loved ones
The Cataclysm inside

What hearts will I break?
What destruction will come?
One thing is for sure, I must face them alone

Help me if you must, Tis worth a try
Remember one thing, and one thing only
With you by my side, i can never Die

For all the people who think I'm okay

You know me not so please go away

You say your love for me is strong and true

But all you do is make me feel blue

 

Betrayal of trust is what I've known

False to me you have ever grown

The ones I love and their trust I have gained

Are not my blood but I wish were the same

 

To the family on who I am supposed to rely

If I trust my life in your hands I would surely die

The ones of new this I can say

Youre love for me is as plain as day

 

A shoulder to cry on is what I can give

But my heart and soul torn, how am I able to live 

The reason I'm alive, the deeds I've done

To serve those in need, forever alone

 

So stay with me if you need a friend

Your troubled heart is mine to mend

With your pain I cannot die

Because without me, on who would you rely

Only fools cannot decide

When to live or when to die

But when they atone for their first sin

Only then will they begin

To comprehend life's truest pains

While I grab Death's scythful reigns

For only then can you really see

What it is to truly be

 

An ember in the blackest sky

Waiting on Death to pass you by

From his blade comes a drop of blood

Drowning you in a crimson flood

My scything hand yee not dishearten

The soul of my nearest fellow Spartan

But what it is to truly see

My soul calling in misery

 

A life of death is my greatest sin

A sorrowful tone my soul should hymn

So act a fool and you will see

Just how sharp my blade will be

Cut you down with no remorse

Setting sail on blackest course

To understand what lies in my mind

Circling the universe with unending time

For what I know and what I see

Is not for you and made for me

 

Reaping souls is my accursed gift

Killing on every millennia's fifth

To see blackest death and crimson red

Is to truly know that I am dead.....

Back in tha Game, Flow

Its your boi J.Cizzle spittin hot fire
While all you other fools step back and retire
My poetry roars louder than a hurricane
Audible signals penetrate your inner brain
Its been a while since I been in the game
But when I came back these niggas looked lame
I am here to exact my revenge
So grab a couple of bottles and lets start to binge!™

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