#bobdylan?

Hey Mr. Tambourine Man,

Dya know your name,

Is being used by family wrecking whores?

To postulate that they they’re smart,

To showcase they have a grand plan,

Perhaps for the greater good,

Perhaps, to vet more phalluses,

But I don’t think it will take,

A weatherman to tell,

Which way their pussies are blown.

Furniture

This morning, as I had my pretentious coffee,

I rifled through a pretentious magazine,

That came with the unpretentious papers.

Saw an advert for a store selling armchairs,

Their tagline was “Inspired by a dream”;

Amused, I wondered what furniture I’d churn,

If it were to be inspired by my latest dream,

A double homicide, a slasher on the lose,

With the knife dripping fresh blood,

Being chased by hungry hungry hippos.

Freud and Neitzsche, can you hear me?

Why do I always have red on my mind?

Yoga and Capoeira, Pilates and Jogging,

In Under Armour and no underpants,

Nothing brings more peace and joy,

Like dreaming of steel knife in windpipes.

Asswipe

“I am God”, said an asswipe.

Blew his horns, sounded from a pipe.

All you bloody did was see a shrink,

Who helped you get outside of hell’s brink.

Like a Jungle-man beating his chest,

You proclaim that you are the best.

You can walk on water,

Do things like in the gutter.

Make wine out of pee-pee,

Glamorous gold shit-shit.

Fucking whores on a schoolnight,

I’mma choke your windpipe.

Don’t mess with me, dickhead,

Might light fire to your fucking bed.

The Lemon-seller

Brazilian blow-out, bitch

45 minutes, to stomp you.

You and your cheap trash.

You got fucked, with your hymen intact.

Haha, so much for your party-planning.

Rained on your parade, did I?

I didn’t mean to, I just did my.

You’re a result of a bus collision,

You should be bludgeoned,

During an intervention.

The devil came to strike a deal,

Saw your soul and said no, thank you.

You ain’t going anywhere, losers,

You won’t even get new dentures.

That one is tapped out, burnt and drunk,

Find yourself a pimp and get on a bunk.

Mediocre pleasuring, that’s your style.

After two shots, you can’t go a mile.

Looked up your symptoms on WebMD,

Looks like you think too much of thee.

You got absolutely nothing on me, bitch!

Except that I am a wizard and you a witch.

If it were 1500s, they’d burn you brown,

You’d look shitty, even with your crown.

Gold-digging bitch, you didn’t dig very far,

Nobody’d give you a dime, even in hoe bazaar.

Slutty smouldering eyes, with lungs to match,

A starving hyena and leech won’t find you a catch.

Dunno where I am going with this, this infernal diss,

When you fuck a lemon-seller, you’d get strabismus.

Warped

Brain noodles,

Polynesian poodles,

Yahoo doodles.

Unibrow model,

Half throttle,

Fizzless bottle.

American Rubel,

Aristocratic strudel,

Lawyer mogul.

Scatting yodel,

Zero subtotal,

Rhyme, McDougal.

Bloody fences,

From your menses,

Diva cup frenzy.

Glitterati, Illuminati,

Take it nonchalantly,

What’s with the shite-shitey?!

Extra shirt buttons,

Who is that glutton?

Got’em by the dozens,

Bitch, pick your cotton.

Bleeding brain noodles,

Writing Warhol doodles,

Mush in your puddle.

Return, hillbilly,

With ass in chilli,

Boo! Scaredya totally.

Hustle

Mad dogging,

Tea bagging,

Sleepy child

In the waiting.

Pills like Nurse Jackie,

Chicken and rosemary,

Munching, crunching,

Silver tooth glittering.

Shot glasses, lime wedges,

Shite music blaring.

Anxious and loving,

Caring and soothing,

Tossed out without thinking.

Anger and frustration,

Midnight masturbation,

Raging bitch manifestation.

Sleep now, little one.

Mama’s gotta be strong,

For you and them bones.

Breathe in, breathe out,

If it wasn’t for that drought,

There’d be water in the well,

And we’d kill the mademoiselle.

Weekend

Weekend rang in,

Offices close at five.

Empty parking lots,

The old cigarette stench,

The pop of the bottle of wine.

Stage a protest at home,

Drive your Jeep, solicit in the dump.

“Late night meetings”, hahaha,

Dya think I was born without a brain?

GPS trackers and dropping pins,

Are for pathetic losers.

“Jackass, I can run you over”,

That’s not a threat,

It’s just your way of saying,

Fuck off, bitch.

Yes! This just in,

Don’t need to see your pin.

I know the skivvy bunch,

Even when it deals me a punch.

The Bitch

Hey hooker,

You forgot your pack of cigarettes.

Go on, grab’em from the trash,

Trash that is filled with shit,

Come to think about it,

That shit is you.

Smoke away, bitch.

Those eyes are getting red,

Those lips are darkening,

That mane is falling.

You checked for cancer lately?

Oh wait, maybe cancer has you.

Instead of warning signs on cigarettes,

You should tattoo on your forehead,

“I can seriously cause damage”

Your brain stammers after a beer,

Your tongue runs, as if in gear.

You think you are all that and more,

Wait till they finally close that door.

When I walked uphill,

Someone had left an empty pack.

I thought it was you,

And smashed it with my smack.

Crazy, dumb whore,

Have some shame,

You don’t hold hands,

With the mister’s ma’m.

I cut the wires loose in your engine,

Both, of the car and the noggin.

Die, sisterfucking pig,

You’re done with your last jig.

Why?

Hey old man,

When you hit yourself,

With that iron rod,

Because they didn’t listen,

Because they refused to grow up,

Because they dissed you,

Because they didn’t procreate;

You saw the evil in her heart,

You heard the vroom of the broom,

You felt the satan living within,

You tasted the poison she oozed.

Why didn’t you split her head in two?

Instead of getting eighteen stitches,

On your twisted but wise noggin?

Had you done that,

I wouldn’t have wanted to

Drink bleach and cut myself with glass.

Validation

Really?

Validation is what you needed?

Attention is what you wanted?

Companionship is what you were after?

Felt haunted coming home?

Did I not validate when teaching your spawn ABC?

Did I not give attention when staying up late night waiting?

Did I not accompany through three figures to seven?

Did I leave the empty beer bottles next to the couch?

You brought home the bacon,

I fried that bacon.

You want money, that I get a life?

I can also wear fishnet stockings,

And get down on my knees.

A decade of high hopes,

Crumbled in a minute,

When you decided,

Hos before bros.

Euthanise, NOT!

Stop dancing, you braindead ho.

The man’s angry and sad.

He ain’t making music to make you twerk.

Hold his hand and be nice instead.

There’s gold aplenty

Earn your share.

Don’t take a broke man,

And break him even more.

You think it’s all about thy,

But in the end, he will be sly.

Life ain’t a party, asshole!

It’s an ocean of tranquil beaches

And pristine waters don’t need bitches.

Go fuck yourself and choke yourself.

You don’t even deserve a hospital bed.

You so lousy, even Jaws would vomit,

A tattoo and aviators don’t make you loveable,

Your ugly mug shows your pus filled heart.

Maybe there’s no heaven and hell;

But you ain’t going nowhere,

Until I break your bones.

Anger

I always laughed at how ANGRY Matthew is.

Thank You for rapping those words out.

Die, bitch, die!

Your funeral goes unattended.

Don’t step in a holy place;

Satan awaits you there.

Or are you yourself the devil?

Rot in muddy waters

Eaten by dung beetles;

Your bones so broken,

Even a dog wouldn’t chew’em

I’m calling the Chesapeake Ripper,

He needs some leftovers.

Bring a big Tupperware, I say

Cuz this bitch don’t fit nowhere.

Moldy, and mangy, flies decomposing your body.

I will hang angel lights, on my balcony.