mercutio7
03/11/07, 09:14 AM
Ok, so this is VASTLY disfferent than anything I've ever posted. The main reason being, its not for Mercutio. As odd as it sounds, its actually for a hip/hop side project that I'm doing. The song will be up in a week or so if anyone is interested.
I'm karmic and calyptic,
anti-antiseptic,
post-apocalyptic,
pre-proactive,
marooned by my crew and
washed ashore.
My chest is a checkerboard
and
altogether I'd have to say I wouldn't be terribly unhappy if you'd just king me.
All the mothers love me
and I smile at the father and think:
“Gosh, I'm fucking your daughter!”
And though my teeth are sharp and I'm charming
there's something decisively Dionysian about my hips.
My vegetarian diet is the reciprocate of my carnivorous hands
that exist to make sand castles of your skin-
reincarnating daffodils and making rainbows out of roadkill.
I guess I have this propensity to pollinate lost mermaids,
and make them forget the smell of the sea and
re-teach them the tides through the movement of my bedsheets:
Ordained by the moon and the omni-gravitational
pull of my poetry on her Halter
Top to bottom.
Will you hitch a ride on the pitch bends of my melody?
We'll piano, then staccato, then mezzo forte!
And if you should fall off beat I'll yell “double time!”
Then gyrate until love me and say that you're mine.
I'm ethereal and incandescent
and own real-estate in snow globes.
And this is where I'll keep you
Promethean like in capture-
caught between convulsions and rapture
punctured balloon like in stature
your frown like a flat tire but chin up little
one, this is all being recorded by cameras
And this is gonna be great!
You're gonna be famous
your body stitched across canvas and
filleted across televisions-
So thin that your ribs pitch a tent under your skin and
the female youth of America will camp out there and
roast marshmallows in the stardust of your combustible heart.
This is an art form dear: keep that smile stapled from ear to ear
Will you hitch a ride on the pitch bends of my melody?
We'll piano, then staccato, then mezzo forte!
And if you should fall off beat I'll yell “double time!”
Then gyrate until love me and say that you're mine.
Though I'm a carnivore I realize
that mending gaps between contours
is no kind of therapy and that as a society
we have found ourselves in the belly of a whale
and accepted that it has swallowed us whole-
and it has.
I'm karmic and calyptic,
anti-antiseptic,
post-apocalyptic,
pre-proactive,
marooned by my crew and
washed ashore.
My chest is a checkerboard
and
altogether I'd have to say I wouldn't be terribly unhappy if you'd just king me.
All the mothers love me
and I smile at the father and think:
“Gosh, I'm fucking your daughter!”
And though my teeth are sharp and I'm charming
there's something decisively Dionysian about my hips.
My vegetarian diet is the reciprocate of my carnivorous hands
that exist to make sand castles of your skin-
reincarnating daffodils and making rainbows out of roadkill.
I guess I have this propensity to pollinate lost mermaids,
and make them forget the smell of the sea and
re-teach them the tides through the movement of my bedsheets:
Ordained by the moon and the omni-gravitational
pull of my poetry on her Halter
Top to bottom.
Will you hitch a ride on the pitch bends of my melody?
We'll piano, then staccato, then mezzo forte!
And if you should fall off beat I'll yell “double time!”
Then gyrate until love me and say that you're mine.
I'm ethereal and incandescent
and own real-estate in snow globes.
And this is where I'll keep you
Promethean like in capture-
caught between convulsions and rapture
punctured balloon like in stature
your frown like a flat tire but chin up little
one, this is all being recorded by cameras
And this is gonna be great!
You're gonna be famous
your body stitched across canvas and
filleted across televisions-
So thin that your ribs pitch a tent under your skin and
the female youth of America will camp out there and
roast marshmallows in the stardust of your combustible heart.
This is an art form dear: keep that smile stapled from ear to ear
Will you hitch a ride on the pitch bends of my melody?
We'll piano, then staccato, then mezzo forte!
And if you should fall off beat I'll yell “double time!”
Then gyrate until love me and say that you're mine.
Though I'm a carnivore I realize
that mending gaps between contours
is no kind of therapy and that as a society
we have found ourselves in the belly of a whale
and accepted that it has swallowed us whole-
and it has.