Spitting in the Face of Trauma (ill)

I want to bleed them dry, I’ll Never die, ill immortalize my name, Although I’d take a very nice pen over nice cars and fame, Go!

 

I’m gonna dance as your pendulum swings, I’m gonna grace the sky as you start thinking about when to begin, No! I want to end when they start spitting benign words, I want to roll my dice and never die, and I want to take your pitiful ego and bleed it dry

 

 

 

I hear them laughing as I wake up in hell, but I’m a chemical that doesn’t mix well, I’m perpendicular to sick, parallel to whatever is left, I want to go iLL and stand still, I never took my eyes away when I wasn’t the predator but the kill

 

Now I dance to an ominous tune, I’m the king of the hill, independent of the population’s unrealistic lust of the dollar bill, I repudiate therapy and request for the slub to twist aside, I smile as the painful episodes subside, this is the season and I’m ready for war, but I have to stay alive as my mind contemplates treason, I continually attempt to outsmart reason

 

 

 

I told you I’m a chemical that doesn’t mix, above adolescence so please save your tricks, you cant insure this type of fire, you can’t stare at the starlight as the game switches lanes. These rules are insane, but my grandma said beat them up, Plain

 

 

 

Yo, you don’t know my past so don’t judge my present pain, you can’t predict my iLL tendencies, you could pick the day when I’ve fired my restraint, and I’ve earned the right to reign upon what is left, I’m Ambidextrous, so I’ll always have the upper hand, I’m a poor excuse of a man but I have the most desirable girl in the land, YES!

 

 

 

Every time I publish a poem I spit in the trauma that won’t leave me alone yeah, because you aren’t talking to a typical body laced with perfection, this is the shit coming from the poster boy of something killer that embraces his own rejection, I’m just iLL far from an infection. I rock my head to Indie pop, my wordplay transcends a common flow, call it Poetic Diddy Bop

 

 

 

Yeah, I’m Going to Do it, make it look pretty in every way, I want to be her city everyday

 

Yeah, I’m going to Do it, stand by everything I ever did say, I want to be with my Dad everyday

 

 

 

Motherfuck this god damn Cabaret, I’m gonna glorify my sickness and Identity. Don’t step on my amendment, constantly, this is way too dramatic to be a play, but don’t distort the arrangement or skip the foreplay, you’ll have a youthful Killswitch Engagement, so watch what you Say

 

Stay and mix my emotion, I think about disses and chaos, as my cat pisses and licks his missing balls, just like I wrote this piece and duty calls, my grandma told me, beat them up plain

 

Touch the sky strong, and make my spherical heart oblong, I’ll turn my suffering into a song, a golden oldie instead of trying to keep it where it belongs. I wrote survivor art and a renaissance, I’m far beyond living for what’s right and wrong…

 

I’m going to do it for my grandma so every time she wakes up, she can see her grandson is keeping it tough

 

I’m Going to do it for my grandma so every time she wakes up, she can see her grandson is keeping it tough

 

Hit It Yeah! I wish life was fair, but I have to enjoy the time and not make it so rough, I’m gonna hold her hand so when she wakes up, I can remind her that I stayed tough…

 

 

The Prodigal Son

Was it me who created this monstrosity? I added oil to the flames of my animosity! Practically calling out this hypocrisy, the way I spit these poems you’d think philosophy was in my genetics like I’m a distant relative to Socrates!

 

 

 

Lets Hit It! First do you hear those drums? Model citizens with fucking razors resting between their teeth and above their gums, I feel like a fiend combining funds, I spit and run, people figured I’d have faded by now, but how could I? When I’ve got a lot to say, life is a play, save the drama for Act Two, this is Act one, the evolution of the Prodigal Son

 

 

 

Can you Feel the Flow? The fluidity, I fear that each line has its own original identity. I used to dream of going to on a big vacation, poor so forget it, thought about horseback riding  instead of the Caribbean but the closest thing I got was watching pornos with sybians. Don’t say anything, but I’m beginning to sharpen, be fearful and disheartened because my body is weak but my mind is a Spartan

 

 

 

Do you feel the Anger? I spoke in Tongues, people still say Jr. King is a fucking bum, First it was direct publishing, now I’m flourishing after I mugged the industry, some people question my ability after they question my history, I answer in story and in mystery, I want to show you what Glory means to me. Your dealing with a poetic virtuoso, so much rage that I spit evil, this was the moment when I didn’t feel well, this wasn’t the life that I wanted, this felt like hell.

 

 Hating all these motherfuckers would leave me looking gaunt, the past and the present are liable to haunt, my body hurts, my brains swirling, I say I vomit creativity but now I’m really hurling! I thought in my mind about hanging myself…

 

Just so everyone can piss on my identity, if I did that my work would only mean something to me, I had so  many doors to go through but I lost my key, I digressed into a abyss, everyone hates me so fuck this…

 

They put my urn on the top shelf, not a Quran or a religious symbol, there was just no where else. My mom wept, but she grabbed the urn to overcome the fear, looked inside and there was nothing there…

 

 

 

Killing myself fuck that, and I’m still breathing, I’m alive, I am seething  but I cant Die!

 

I’m believing in my pen, in my work, that I will beat them , I wont Let Go!

 

But I’m still bleeding, I was still bleeding, It hurt to see that I may never be who I wanted to be, but it took so long to see that I’m already more then I ever fucking thought I could be…

 

 

 

I’ll Keep breathing, the light is lungs, I still hear the drums, The stress weighs a ton, but I’m strong, its time to right all the wrongs, stay where I belong, I’m a King, I’m the One, I’m the Prodigal Son

Death of Love

 

Did you remember the first time we held hands

Sliding across the couch not sure what to think or what to know

Where we were didn’t matter, we didn’t know where we’d go

We’d count to ten to open our eyes

Close them for the rest of the night

It was like finding god, a lovelorn soul finding their way

Things never changed like that before

Missing each other on a frosty night singing songs into the phone

Crying yourself to sleep now that you’re alone

But the death of love is nothing to be scared of, it’s just a clock ticking on

Your departure haunts my very sense of safety

Because I remember when we’d go to the river that was south of my land

Writing down everything you said, while the voice in my head reminds me that we moved on

I look at the screen expecting your call

I think to pick you up in case you would fall

But as time goes on

Time goes on and our love seperates as the seconds pass

I remember your skin so soft, but I knew that we couldn’t run past the horizon

And the death of love isn’t something to be scared, because it’s a fire blowing out

Survivor Art

You Made my life a crystal ball of confusion

I painted a portrait of an illusion, a raw throbbing contusion

Im a melodic disaster

This is my conclusion…

We Sing Along, but the notes are wrong, we sang along from night till dawn

These Drums, they make me so strong, it took so long to get this level to prove the world wrong

These Screams, ugly but pretty, id love to see mars but lets go see the city

In my incipience, they i implied i was rather fastidious

Describing a world so hideous, to a community near The HALL that seemed so oblivious

I had the propensity, to show serendipity, ugly in the light

Like the sound of a fight on a cold winter night, each analogical plight blasts out of sight

I showed pain that i had found a way to make things right, just keep singing along all through this winter night

The strings can be weak, but dont worry love that we can tweak

If its true love you seek, then we can climb this peak

Then it goes silent, the stillness of anticipation has a quality thats ultraviolent

We do this…to make peace with ourselves

Some of us have our own meaning of art, some strive to display that an end always has a start

So tonight, its our feet we tap, we are the generation of survivor art that makes beauty from crap

They say hate breeds hate, tonight the only sound is the symphony of finger snaps

We all sing out of tune, our spirits ascend all but to soon

This is the last line…we sit on young love’s lagoon, staring as the stars whisper to the moon

The Plight and The Fury (POEM)

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Fingers covered in ink, mind like a contraceptive, make the music something you can step with but don’t overdue the loops, shoot hoops with Versace boots betting on military coups whilst down in the blues.
Feeling some type of way, ready to take over

The setbacks have been severe, wondering if people still care, I’ve been going hungry no food in the house and no new clothes not no new friends, sharp razors and lose ends

But here I am still full of hope, some nights it’s hard to cope with all the potential, destroy the next phenomenon and then burn all that’s sentimental, because I’m invading kindle because my words are mentally ill, went to private hospital but couldn’t pay the bill and I went to a graveyard with time to kill

Even Still, I’m not who I used to be before, ruthless as I fit the bill, ready to die, ready to kill

Not a man around who can stop me, not a plan that’s sound that would drop me. The sick part is that I’m not that bad, I whine about what I had, cry for my dad but nothing to be ashamed of

They mock me and threaten to give me a slug, but they are just bugs slightly perpendicular to the whole I dug, lots of crud and lots of bullshit, sometimes my brain is on empty but the ideas flooded just won’t fit

Sometimes I scream so the angels will carry me away

God might be great be he hasn’t answered anything that I’ve said

I’m going to tell him about himself the day I die, and I’m going to create swords of every tear that I cried

Every day without electricity and going hungry, stare down the competition because my friends love me

Talking shit like my mouth was a toilet, maybe I never knew who I was enough to even kill myself, food for thought so don’t spoil it

Mad decent on wheels but we have to constantly oil it

 

And this is my ambition, shaking so much that you think I had a condition

But it’s anger repeating in repetition

Been rejected to so many times, hated and disliked

To the death I’m sick, write pieces with ice picks

Before I sat where I sit, I was an distorted animal something like a bull pit

Pressured to throw in the paw and quit

But now I’m trending like a Twitter fit

Roll my eyes into the back of my head while throwing up signs with my deformed fingers
Throwing pitches and this one is a sinker, but as my product falls to dirt there are so many things I need to say  but I don’t know how

I’m in my zone but I don’t know how far I’m allowed, but don’t kill my mojo

Might not be the best but I’m banging my chest

More hyped then the rest, humbed to be alive after four attempts on my life

This is the rage, depression, love and plight

Of Antony Day Grandin

Fake Empire

These little words always kept me sane, i knew id get hit but i still changed the lane

This cursive is so difficult, nearly impossible to see. Babygirl, what do you want me to be

I live in a fake empire, burnt so much but i still play with fire
I wanted to leave the state, but i left the keys near my fate
Im struggling to just live, i need someone to know ive got love to give

Civilizations built upon faith and love, they never knew there was a storm up above. i write a prologue everyday to tear myself apart, so people can realize a end has a start. When my mom was so sick, i had love to send. i didnt know that night it was from myself i had to defend

Self reflection, early detection, and my soul’s poetic dissection is my only protection. God forgive me for all my sins, i wish my dignity wasnt in that bin. you cant help me now, the Fake Empire wont allow. if you love me ill write a symphony, your heart would beat with mine in synchrony. the moon would be subject to larceny, to brighten your dark day. i want to make it so im never your enemy, just a lonely epiphany.

Tonight, ill retire to my Fake Empire. My body wont move, but my heart can still conspire to reveal this fortress as hellfire. My hope is the only liar. The pain, trauma, hate and emptiness had inspired me to ignore lovelorn gunfire. ill climb this Fake Empire, just to stand on the edge of the slippery spire

Life is Poetry

I stare into your eyes, mine cross

Known to cut a loss before I pivot with surprisingly advanced digits that leave the past riddled with poetry in the moss

The Cost?- I are intensive as we back up on the heels of walls that have been cautioned aprehensive, while i close my eyes in chaos to stay pensive

Describe your life in real time prophecy, like a bastard son of socrates, 2-1-2, stay prodigal sporting blood red shoes, spewing blood stained dues, battle scars that keep this genuine and true

Hold on I’ll tear shit up like my arm, street poetry built to self destruct not self harm, story of poverty and triumph, trauma and alarm

The blood dropped as the hip hopped and hearts stopped, jaw dropped, fist clenched, because when i arrived on the scene you can barely even clinch a spot on the bench

My thirst to quench, disarm the foul stench because i was raised with a vendetta to make the ice colder and the consequence better

Writing over your head and into your heart, Public Threat, Best Bet, Your last regret

I’ll leave you traumatized with your lips to pucker, punk ass motherfucker

They expect sweets like all day suckers

Carve words like bloody scripture, arrogant because i have the real big picture, failed math but i’m going to specialize in lots of zeroes, Held at gunpoint and didnt play hero, live life far beyond suicide to stay parrelel and I’m the fucking worst

My fathers knife to my throat and its a pain in the neck

Eiry mornings on the deck breathing bleak debts, swallowing harsh bets because im a guy you dont want to forget

Counting a million dollar deal, and i am what i feel

I am the leader, and i am what i believe

Fours months for something to be real, time for skin to peel, Dont crawl, I walk, And I back up each every word of the shit that i talk

Times become bleak, and it was pleasure without pain that i used to seek, but i found the world to be cheap with harshly paved streets, gloomy beats and times when you just have to look down at your feet

But there is more to life then they teach you at school, with a heart of gold and story that has been told, positive energy with a negative handgun, the demise of the progidal son, and the rise of the chosen one.

And as i hunt, the past impedes but i can say i am everything that i believe

City light free verse on a glimpse of doubt about inconsistency and I am still everything and more that i believe.

Life is poetry, so lets live in our persuasive thesis, words are biblical so lets write holy songs

Life is to long to stand on one wrong, so lets blossom together before we’re goneImage

Da Da Da

I see the air to keep on moving as the sounds are ghttp://anthonygrandin.com/loomy but the music is grooving

I want to believe that this taste in my mouth isn’t that bitter

I’m in love with a shadow that’s a lie stranded under the night sky

A Girl who hates the simple things and is so special she occupied my mind

The pain she has been inflicting made me feel like a victim

And I feel like a little lost child, but then I realize I’m the chosen one

So look in my eyes before I run

My memory has notes on a scandal, I’m breathing in the air of a lost night desperately trying to find a pattern among the screams

The stage and the beams overcome me as my soul leaves my body

I saw my love from a distance, and even as the dark nights cease

I realize my heart may not know its part, but the pain got leaner when you were by my side

I remember a lovelorn creature scrambling to be free, with a heart that was to big for me

My love stayed down to the wire where the bad ones go, and she ran with me down a desolate hill only to fall to the bottom

Her last words run with me wherever I go, from the top of the stars, to a sky that is blue, to the snow of a windy mountain or drowning in a river

She was my last thought, as I was baptized by rejection

I know the night would forewarn me but a day would come when this hex and curse would let me free

I smile in the mirror remembering the past, and thinking about a future

She set my world on fire, but someday another will burn it down

The nights when my body was numb and I dreamed hard and shot high, my hand passing through clear skies

Sometimes my heart sinks like stone, and I wonder when I will roam

When the days will engulf my chest and I will once again be blessed

I’ve been ruined and tarnished, only to be reborn as the representative of lost hearts

I miss the days when my heart would beat so hard I’d feel like I was dying, when I’d wipe off her tear as she was crying

But those memories have a time to go

I shake off the nonsense and stand on the edge wondering whether there is a way back home,home to all the pain and the dishonor, I wanted to show everyone I know that I was going to make it home

I went to hide from whatever is broken, that reaps through the wild wide ocean tide

And as I glide,all the love in past won’t hurt inside and maybe it’s time to go and be something greater then I’ve ever tried, and I don’t want to hurt your pride,but maybe its time to just fly?