I Rather Be The Rhymer

Fight, fight, fight

To sight I’m the absence of light

3-D glasses in the home theatre, reclined

Watching Passion of the Christ

And on a Samsung tablet you type

Painting a rosy picture on Facebook

In the midst of thinking “fuck my life”


Alone on an island

There’s peace

A newcomer arrives

Now there’s potential for violence

Thorns of a rose with the pedals of a violet

Head in the clouds – a terrestrial pilot

No accolades – yet – I walk into the room convinced I’m the brightest


All is what I think I deserve

Don’t ask me why

The feeling’s intuitive

So if you think otherwise…

To me that’s counterintuitve


Some might rightly say

I put the lewd in ludicrious

“You’re so silly”

“Oh shit, he’s serious”

“Surprise! I’m only kidding”

“Oh shit, the guy’s delirious”

I’m the alleycat who killed George

Even tho I too was curious


I am alone like a wolf, a romantically sarcastic, rash and drastic, outcasted wolf

In America I am a low-class wolf

In India I would be a low-caste wolf

Feeling closer to a dog

Feeling closer to a canine

Growling by a window

Crecendo – WOOF!

Till from afar I spot a fine figure by herself

Pending on her face…

My mind, based on her shape, tells my eyes to view her as a mate

Approaching with a comment I assured myself was pertinent

Beautiful face –

I conversate and fascinate myself

With how freely I relate

Can’t wait to recall each word I say

I think she wants to fuck, no, I think she wants to wait

Us humans civilized

Must disguise lust

And go through the motions of the ritual called “a date”

At the end of the day – PRIMATE



If this be the kitchen

I must be the master chef

You can’t even boil an egg

So look,

I’m the only cook

In a league of my own

Thus, I am the best

Lest, anybody care to contest

Look, a cook, a goddamn cook

Say, how vivid are your words?

If it’s sexy then we look

My words become Braille

To the hand that takes a page from my book

All Eyez On Me – The Attention Crook

Just a peek, you say

Well, that’s quite a long look


I’m alone like Jose a.k.a letthewordsplay

My favorite term of endearment is babe

I never used the word “bay”

I like my sky grey with a chance of rain

Let divine tears trickle on us sadly(!) and return as drops of joy from where they came

The fall of water and its rise

Naturally explained is instead of super plain

The scientific mind is arcane

In a lab specific neurons were discovered that induce the feeling of what we denote as shame

Angels travel nonchalantly to the deepest depths of Hell where they re-up on top-notch fire ass cocaine

Everyone who is alive, listen up – at the same time let’s point a finger to the sky and cast the blame


So like I said,

I like my sky grey with a chance of rain

I’m king of a kingdom, you’d be wise not to claim

The Kingdom of Pain

In that domain it’s beyond chance I reign


Sulking like a trickster who in Hell became a joker

Your expertise, you honed to the highest of degrees

Tho when shown to me it’s dismissed as mediocre

Well-dressed men

Invite me, a nudist

To a table where stripping is the cost of playing poker

My actual greatest sin

Was being born sober


Mapping out

A rout

Had I not been born a mute I would’ve been a motor


I know all about the world

From the comfort of my couch

Don’t act surprised!

If I know exactly what you’re talking about


Many outlets of the news, let out what accrues to common knowledge

Facts overshadowed by a cloud of fiction – Doubt

I look around and notice

Shout “Holy shit”

Thou be too foul to utter “Holy cow”

Nobody is not a journalist now

Living a life in which one is scarcely wowed

All I know is opiates

WTF is “ouch”


I am who I am

But can come across in ways exceeding plethora

Birth certificates should bear names followed by etc. i.e. etcetera

I became a snob

The day I found out I was God

My peers I treat like 50

When he jotted “How To Rob”

Cruising on a first date

First track I play you hear say

“Slob on my knob”

We both peer at my lap

As we hear “corn on the cob”

To live the dream

Is to work a hobby as your job…

Preferably a lucrative job


I go the extra mile

And I never ask the question

Is this worth while

That feeling of fakeness

When someone looks at you expecting you to


Don’t comply

No revenge for a cyclops

An eye for an eye

Each person, I see

On TV, on the street

Will die a death (no shit) meet a death and die unique

When I die

No one will be able to match the way I leave

Till then I will smoke weed

And be on speed


The moral of the story?

Deem me as you please, I can still fulfill your needs

I am poetic, elite

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