"Gean/Christian Cypher #1"

"Gean/Christian Cypher #1"

A Poem by PoeT4994

Me and my friend got bored, so we freestyled a 12 minute poem.

Gean: I;
I do not relate to you in any symmetrical way cuz this side of the mirror deceives you.
I say that...my puzzle...defines you and defines your mind which inclines to make you think that you the one to believe in my world but I am different from you.
You walk slowly amongst the street, happy with a bag of Dulce and Gabana smiles with yo purse, and money in the back of your pants, so I live in the Arkham Asylum, strait jackets in my back because they don’t believe me when I say that I could fly.
See, I, open my wings out this strait jacket to bust out the feathers and I fly away from everything.
But they don’t believe that cuz I jumped off a three story building, my only mistake was to fly with a broken wing.
We are different.
You stay inside your room, watch television, go on Facebook, o blabba, blabba, blabba, gossip, gossip ,gossip, get whooped.
Blabba, blabba, blabba, gossip, gossip, gossip, get whooped.
I, stay in my room behind these white walls and I find myself screaming through every crack of ‘em.
I try, to slip my fingers through every crack of ‘em.
I slip to find a new crack that leads me no where.
(I don’t know)

Christian: Find a new crack that leads me to nowhere.
So I jumped back out and said “I’m goin’ somewhere.”
I picked that crack up and twisted it till it was a rabbit hole.
I said screw Alice, I jumped down it and made that rabbit my b***h.
Because time, don’t got a hold on me.
I said father time can’t get a grip on me.
No matter how big his knuckles are.
I tell him “Knuckle up son, cuz my words will knock your brain senseless.
I said, “My words, will knock your change, cents-less.”
I’ll have so many brain cells dyin’ we’ll need a national census to count off all your deceased.
And all your dead bodies.
And all your dead bodies.
And all your dead bodies are rotting in my pockets, because my pockets show my past.
And my past is full of people who said I couldn’t make it.
But I’m not one of those people who sits around doin’ nothin’.
I picked my self-esteem up off the floor and threw it against the wall until it became somethin’.
I said, I ain’t done here yet.
I painted my wall rainbow and I tied it around my neck like a scarf.
Because I wear my pride on the outside.
Call me gay if you want, but I’m one happy motha f***a.

Gean: I’m one happy mother f***er.
I turned that rainbow upside down to my frown.
But I do not do that.
Because, you see, my smile distinguish the life.
Let me smile the fallen flower and make it a tree.
Go on to me.
Flow on to me.
I will listen with my ears.
But feel with fingers.
So talk to me.
I can feel you.
(I stole that from you, cuz that was decent sh**.)
Because I wear my pride.
I, will be the guide that walks with the monk.
I, will be the god that walks among men.
(I said squirrel, at which point Gean started laughing and couldn’t continue, so I picked up the flow)

Christian: I will be a god that walks among men.
You, you can call me amen.
I’m found in individual scriptures tucked beneath newspapers, hidden in the back folds of your mind.
I will blow the front of your skull out till you’re one dimension.
Flip you around like Paper Mario, because I’m a lot deeper than what you see.
And, I’m a lot deeper than what you hear.
My words ain’t something you can take lightly.
Because my words, come heavy.
I pack tons on my tongue.
I lift bridges with my spit.
I write bridges with my pen, and on the tip of it is where the world is writ.
I hold Uniball’s...like globes.
And I paint your past on the surface of your mothers eyes, because every time she blinks I can see your face.
See, I see things differently.
I have eyes, painted on the back of my eyes so no matter what, I’m lookin’ both ways.
Don’t tell me to look before I cross a road, I’ve already seen the car crash I’ma die in.
And I’ll tell you what, I’m gonna be smiling as soon as those two semi’s hit me.
You know why?
Because I know God has something better, and he has installed a gift in me something like hallelujah.
Draw it from your lips.
And make you sing it till your lips drip like paint onto my canvas, and I will write you the best poem you’ve ever heard.
From the blood of my nails, from the crack of my ribs.
Break them open till you shine forth.
All I’m sayin’ is I’ll flip the world around till your mother gives birth to you three times over.
Put you in an oven, make you the best tasting cake I’ve ever seen because, you know what, I like to have mine and eat it too.
Tell me, where have you been in your life?
Because me, I see things through flutes, and lookin’ at ‘em through any individual hole, I can put my finger through one and only see seven sides like prisms.
I’ll turn it upside down and make you an hourglass to tuck all your bad dreams inside of.
Flip it upside down so you have more time to conquer ‘em.
Because this night terror ain’t over yet.
And I said, and this life, and this night terror, it ain’t over yet for me.
Because I just keep goin’ for ever, and ever, and ever, like a camel with tons of water stored on his tongue.
Dripping like saliva from his brain.
He thinks...“Always keep going”.
We will hold notes in our back pockets that say “You decide...”
Because no matter what, this is our dream.
And we’re gonna paint it from the seams.
Fold the edges like origami to make sure it never unfolds, because when it does, Pandora’s Box will open and make your mind blow.

Gean: Pandora’s Box will open and make your mind blow.
Let the demons show, as I will be the one stuck in the box known as hope.
I will not break out this box because you do not need me.
Because you say that you don’t see me.
And I belong no where in your world.
But hope, you try to find through the sniffs of crack, and the hits of weed, and the shots fired through the gun smoke turned to weed smoke silently as you smoked on the endless breath of life because I will take your lungs away.
You can’t breath no more as you sit on that stretcher and say “God, I need hope.”
And I will bust out Pandora’s Box because Pandora, you mean nothing to me.
Pandorum, is where I send you.
So I fly through your stretcher and tell you “You, have hope.”
Let me put my fingers and my arm in your lung, and I will be Lucifer taking the smoke away from you.
And I will burn!!! and etch every violent word in my spleen if you pray.
Because I, have given you hope.
See hope is a violent weapon to human man, and humane, and amen I pray to God because God has given you hope now.
So stand strong by that stretcher and say “I am no longer bound by the stretcher”, because I...will walk among men as strong, I will fight among men as strong.
Call me gladiator as I hold my shield up high.
Mend ‘em, destroy ‘em, and I pierce my spear into them, because I...have found...hope.
Hope, tattooed on the back of my chest, and seven letters stand, and maybe Chinese just to make it look fresh.
But seriously, Pandora’s box no longer holds onto me, let me fight off these demons.
I will make a new box.
Called the box of hope.
And in it I’ll store demons, people that don’t believe in me, and I will tell them “These angel wings grow out my back because the devil has deceived me.
And I, will talk to God in my prayers.
In my mind, I will seek to find that the devil still lives in them.
Play out his demons, but no more what they find of me.
I...have found hope.
Let hope be etched on the bottomless pit of my gun, because I send them somewhere that no one can find them.
Pray to your nearest none, look to your left.
That’s your brother right, well he’s dead.
That’s the day tomorrow after.
Where...will you find...hope.

Christian: In the deep abyss of this hope chest.

Open it up and you’ll find prayers swimmin’ in circles around each other.
I’ma bite a line real quick, but it just fits so perfect.
Ripped off my skin and all you’ll see is lyrics.
I’ll write myrical circles around you like spherical lyrics.
Rip out my larynx.
And I’ll give you hope.
That’s all you wanted.
Four letters, it doesn’t matter any way the sticks fall.
It’s still one concept.
Like a monkey and a baboon.
We all are apes, crawling, because we don’t know where to go.
Apposable thumbs were meant for one reason, to grasp concepts like hope.
Monkeys can’t do that.
They aren’t as developed.
I’ll look around me at this urban city, and all I see is urban monkeys, because they...can’t grasp what this means.
They can’t grasp amen, and hallelujahs, and God save me, and can I get a witness for days.
Cuz...I say too much, and I don’t hear enough.
I speak a lot.
And I read to little.
Call me Stuart Little, but I look up at this world as something bigger than life, because my life...is something bigger than Earth.
And I like down on it and know that I’m lookin’ down, lookin’ up at myself.
Because...you have to look at yourself to find hope.
Because no one else can teach you your way of saying savior.
And many people call it many different things in different languages.
Christ, Jesuah, Jehovah, simply...savior.
Amen, hallelujah...praise the Lord, three holy ghosts, the saints, the cross, the pope.
All it is is hope chest, packed beneath a heart.
And all it is is a key in this ignition, hocked up on bottle rockets, ready to fiercely start.
All I gotta say is...hope is more than what you think it is.

© 2010 PoeT4994

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Added on August 3, 2010
Last Updated on August 3, 2010