The Implosion II: Phase I: My Poetic Outlet at B/R, Someone Wants To Stop....

This is enough. I’m doing something I wouldn’t do here (but I would in real life)…write a little poem.

(Listen with “The Way I Am”, Instrumental, Eminem on Google Video)

I’m reading charges, handed out by the police,

And I won’t ever see why this fuckin’ fire won’t cease,

Why can’t we make peace? Why won’t this bullshit release,

From this action that you’re trippin’, you just won’t see,

And now you’re just flippin’, and your respect is slippin’,

That I won’t believe….that you’re a prick and you won’t leave.

And then there’s this man who won’t understand,

What it really just takes to be a fuckin’ man,

You don’t file insults across people’s doors,

Some of this makes me want to throw you in a drawer,

On the floor, at a whore, it makes me sore,

Just to think about it (echo), you’ll get in a fit,

Now you just call names so stop playing games,

Or this’ll blow up in flames, and we’ll all be witness to things that’ll spring,

I’m done doing nothing, and I’m just tired of being the King,

Of defending these people in what’s not my matters,

I will implode, this shit will shatter, and it won’t matter,

But I will reign gladder, and what makes me sick,

Is that you use this trick, to deceit us and distract,

so we can’t fulfill our part of this little contract (echo),

so you crack what remains of our recent pact, to not spat, and not act,

And now you know I won’t quit out of this stupid whack,

You want attention; you left an impact, my village stays cracked,

So I can’t relax when you make this suspense, that I’ll relent,

And I want this to get out of B/R’s mind, to leave this behind,

So I’ll never have to waste my fuckin’ time.

To Robert and anyone else here.

Write, or get off this site. I spend so much of my time dedicated here, and you people just screw with my mind to get off at me. I’ve been nice before, but I’m just starting to get mad. Kumar isn’t the nice Indian anymore.

I’m just sick of these games. I’m a soldier at heart. You play me, and I won’t stop until I want to. I’m just sick of people setting me off every day here. I’m here to write. I don’t want bullshit.