poemz 2

iam sorry people, i kind of have rhyming on the brain. i am also getting darn good at it. streetside rapper goes out to  fixticks, you are the embodiment of streetside my brother.
Streetside Rapper
His beat is his own
He keeps time with his nails on the wall
 
 
It’s sick the way that he flows
But nobody knows
Nobody is here to catch the lyrical knives that he throws
The tight, terse rhymes that he blows
Hear that Rumblin’tumblin’
Staccato like a machine-gun murderin’
Short rapid bursts,
Tortured pauses,
Cascading rhymes,
Bitter-sweet verses.
Lines that lilt and repeat
Recoil like tiger claws on springs
Slashing your face to minced meat
Scorching your cheeks with their white heat
Exquisite beauty… on this deserted street.
 
His beat is his own
He keeps time with his nails on the wall
Click-click-clickitty, clack,
clickitty clack, clickitty
He is feline ability, harpsichord scintillity
Warping reality with furious musicality
He swears fealty to none but his own ingenuity
The world wears him out, pseudo geniality
Sucks him up with its chores of morality,
So he haunts the cold concrete on silent ghostly feet
Ragged jeans, hooded sweatshirt
Smouldering eyes and chattering teeth
Prowls and patrols the corners of the streets
Alone in his own zone as he curses and spits
A single solitary soul that won’t acknowledge defeat
To this torrent of guilt… his artistic winding sheet.