SEASON 16 FINASL TOURNAMENT: 143 VS SAMMY ***OPEN FOR VOTES***

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@143 @Sammy

Check. Good luck, Brutha

Same to you...

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The Story of Anger and Aggression.

Anger is of small stature; With it, your general complexity
Prefers the sound of silence; Rewind a Garfunkel melody
A Stoic. A captive orca performing aerial artistry
Cheesing for the cameras. Charming; Performing it flawlessly
Sensitive. Highly intelligent. Mind, a bank vault of golds
But one must wonder what happens whenever Anger’s alone

Aggression’s solidly built, of monolithic proportion
Carved from marbles; The form of an Olympian warship
He lives with little regards. Often regarded as brash and crude
The type to start fights, long before the night is through
His breath, a sweltered mix of hellish hits of hash and brew…
But one must wonder what Aggression is like behind the views.

Anger never forgets; A symptom of the intelligence
He remembered 2nd grade. The whispering. The hell. That fist!
The teasing. The bell that “dinggged”; that's when Anger swelled within..
But he learned. It’s well advise to hide it. This shell protects...
A leviathan. There’ll be a time, my friend when they will bow at his feet
its then and there he’ll declare “‘just letting out this head of steam”

Behind closed doors, Aggression fiend for some guidance
His dreams are of islands along the Keys of Bahamas
But Mrs Teasley assured him that his effort was futile
“You won’t pass, it's pointless…”
Now he passes out from bags of hash and some joint hits
Dreaming .. of corner offices, a secretary with large tits
Doing cool shit, like using words to make money, i mean…
I guess he’ll trade cufflinks for fisticuffs just to let off some steam...

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Lost, farming the harmonious tendencies for ill gains
Plowing through plateaus, filing grievances for migraines
And in the process is lost the touches we adore
Smothering heart's dire plea for the clutches it implores
In bunches it restores the beast need to feed unfiltered
Playing cynical mind games making comprehension bewildered
I sit on my weathered porch.....watching....hoping
That brighter days rays gaze on these lost faces for doping
Deadening the madness that is contorted when one's consorted
Living on manufactured dreams of distorted scenes imported
Putting liens on futures still laying in seedless husks
Showing tearing from the overbearing weight of their seething tusks
Grinning on the greening of fruitless crops.....

Lost, twisting in southernmost winds looking for clarity
Harboring lost ships of sincerity, blindly, gregariously
Porting trust, now musty from downtrodden concrete
Late night paid rendezvous cum sodden car seats
A far reach for the spoken finish lines drawn from conclusions
Changing from the heavenly white garbs into shades of collusion
Now trapped in the beasts hands, moving motionless
Stained from cigarette burns and bruising hopelessness
Working bra-less so the heart find no bounds to the torments
Legality suspends a shell of herself, the pristine smile dormant
I can't fathom this no more, being a sideline reporter of malice
Seeing the profiteers sip there trolled balances from golden chalices
But how do you talk to those who mind is blown on crack smoke
Even on that note, civility is burnt thoroughly to the last toke...

I still see remnants from that white garb on greyed hard decks
Sending help to try to reclaim dignity from uncharted texts
The wetness of the game these pimps lay, a miscreant's covenant
Directly oppose a tritheist's ideology, deliberately methodical
Giving an abhorrent taste of the sweet life to the recipients wonderment
Infecting sanity to accept what is maliciously illogical...

This black fog is an homage to those who walk with a lofty debt
Playing death as a trump card, smoking regret coloring their frothy breath.....