Locus Outlets 1

Times have changed, going from the old wierdness to the newer improved deranged//to consume is to smooth the strain, of maintaining in this subdued terrain//confused, I claim sick in the head, not mentally ill but rather twisted instead//in a glimpse, gifts is ahead, hunger shot down now up lifted and fed//the bread of life, yet some wash it down with the liquor of death//hearts stop quicker than elk die hit from 150's of F//or Ford for those who never had one, it's mad dumb//to be broke and still grab one, when funds won't last long//it's P, my mind is strong enough to take on the challenge//this paper's my campass, I pin floatin ideas to this canvas//forced writing, will it cause damage? no unless thoughts become rampant//rancid, hustling till I ran sick, scared to open up like I cramed shit//im my closet, life is ever going, you can't pause it//but you can send letters to the director's office, prayers we call it,//life's a puzzle that in death you solve it, sorry to say//we wish for moments of jolly that breaks and chips till it's falling away,//our prides, we don't swallow and stray, "fuck looking hollow today"//and those be the ones taking hollows to the face, for trying to live tomorrow today...

Alanson Kesi Nauden
aka
Cuttin P
Foreva

to put a hit on myself

I'm a prisoner in the land where poetry and text meet
People missing my meaning but judging on my techinque
I know how to do it, I've proved it before, shit!
but altering my thoughts is spiritually morbid
A poet at heart and a lyricist second
my pen WAS lethal, now dull is my weapon
looks and sounds nice but through is the message
sacficing the real to forefill what you feel is a great text, it's
crazy, "nice multies and flow," that wasn't it's purpose!
I've seen the greatest of multies come from the worsest of verses
from hearses to surface topics, I'm done with impressing
I write to prevent suicide through open expression
wanna find my emotional well like Garvey and Kiko
and balance it out like Drakey and Intro, we know
that it's my fault it happened, got caught up in rapping
losing my stanzas for bars, shield of my heart started collapsing
Cuttin P of the past would peach to ya ass
cock eagles and blast at all evil and laugh
but now I just let em be, letting em slide
passive aggressive, tame by rules, wet in the thighs (pussy)
the old me still living only revealed in anger
restless, tired of being uinformed like rangers
shaking off the wax so the flesh of my words can breathe
observe, you'll see what's returning... some heard of me
...some heard of me

Cuttin P
Foreva