queen condor
Every so often I play -
My old tunes reminisce peace.
Perhaps my coffin will say,
"He lived an unrealised masterpiece."
But that's a dream to awake.
So many people gave him poppies,
When roses were too much to pay.
I'd take anything so please,
Don't be afraid to say something.
Nine hundred and eighty-one.
By sunrise, I sent a track.
Firing thunder at everyone,
And one had incentives to bite back.
In some way - his name was Perfect.
The next day, I woke up to see -
How his response in poetry.
I am- came to my senses,
I didn't expect it, but it was worth it.
A moment to test my penmanship,
Five years I've written -
I'm not letting this ship sink.
Right here, I gave him a leash.
But my heart was really ripping,
Being one to admire his works.
Now forced to fire a verse,
Saw the attention, and he dispensed it.
No precautions; shot with I_Still_AM-
Saw the quickness in his heart,
He really got fires in his bark.
It burned me deeper,
I had to pour him ether.
This isn't Nas and JAY-Z either!
This is Perfect and Poetica's spar.
It was my doing to start this war.
That was the first time I got scarred.
But I had to fight back - no holds barred.
My thoughts all night:
Have I lost this fight?
Though it's my first and I -
Am doubt personified.
Perhaps I should put on Spotify,
And pen out whatever comes to mind.
I Stand In Isolation Against The Waves.
By that point, I am exhausted in this cave.
Now we ended the spar,
Marked our pens in rock.
Now - who won this war?
I'm not one to be cocky,
But I felt like none did.
We got what we wanted.
He Did His,
And I Did Mine.
tacit lynx
oak arch
reef vessel
jolly creek
(poetica join the narvotics pwease)
whole girder