Doggie Valhalla

I hate cutting leashes, but I guess I got to see the dogs run

in circles, endlessly spiraling and there's green littered all over

the fields that they frolic in, the sun bathing their bodies

I set them free and typically they'll do me the same favor 

so we run around in circles, chasing each others tails

till we're tired and have nothing but a thirst and hunger

I go back to the trough we came from, but I'm alone

Such is the fate for the unchained, he will dine alone

Such is the fate for the unhampered, he will wine alone. 

Still, those moments scurrying over nothing were great

I think I dug up some holes to commemorate them. 

Now you treat them like mines, the field a minefield 

No field and no companionship, what am I to do? 

Eventually I'll be given entrance to a new track. 

I ran quick enough, I've won apparently. 

So I leave you

And you don't give me but a whimper, because we're all bred

to leave our comrades. And while we thought change wasn't gonna come. 

It is our master, playing fetch with each of us individually, driving us apart. 

I ain't bitter

I ain't bitter, only sad. A man who no longer wanted to fight
Forced to wilt as you grabbed onto my stem, ignoring the bulb
instead you gripped tightly and as your blood slowly streamed downward
you smiled straight into my eyes, my abdomen was crushed, but I smiled as well.

I ain't angry, only disappointed. A man who's voice gave out right before the duet
So you went into a perpetual solo, I sang background and held alto notes
and as I gasped for air, you persisted in your merriment
I am the merry-man who moaned into oblivion, fixedly asphyxiated

I ain't vengeful, only exhausted. A man who's vigor has faded
Yet your magnum iter was clear. I continued an ox pushing a cart
And as I grew tired, my limbs buckling under your load
You began to plan my consumption, dark meat and all.

You are cold. You are disheartening. You are disloyal.
You are regretful. You are selfish. You are delusional.
You are despicable. You are pitiful. You are pathetic.
Now you may call me bitter. But now I'm better.

Sellout

Yeah, you're a fucking sell out
Don't worry, just ring up and cash out
But this ain't no rap
I don't got time to rhyme through this shit
I'm too busy clipping bars
Look at my eyes, they'll twinkle
That way you know I'm blind
I guess you can't blame me if I don't know where I was going
But you hear the warnings all the time
limelight, the root, illuminati, everyone is doing the twist
Still I guess it's absolved if "that's just how I feel"
light pockets make it easy to run
and when they're weighed down we buy safes
I have four and they keep me busy just fine
Still, I've got to keep dancing, ballroom of course
one two, repeat, I'll stay on that beat
and profanity is a must, nah fuck that
I'll be vicious and shock, call it contrarian
then convince mountain dew to pick me up
still even now as I delude myself into believing that I am a mockingbird
I realize that I am complicit. I follow the strictures and instead decided to talk white
And instead of staying on beat, I'll call it meter. And instead of rhyme, I'll call it a sonnet
And I'll talk about philosophical hogwash. And the person I show it too will give me an obligatory nod
At least I ain't wearing chains. And I don't decorate my poems with a Spanish I don't speak.
But perhaps I should. Because no one is reading this shit. I hardly read this shit
The one person who does read it, right now, is probably scratching their head,
wondering who to believe? Grills or Stroud?