S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
If we had less clones, I'd have less zones; I wouldn't get this high, or hit as many area codes. Less clones equals fewer molds to break, and less bones. And, speakin' of bones, less clones means fewer domes to wreck, and even less homes...
-Each1 Teach1- of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
brassknucks to the dome, wreck homes like cyclones, fresh coast to midwest, stay fresh my biddness, leave'm floppin on the shore like fish'ez wif no breathes, the freshest no contest, big buds, no compress'd, come catch a caved chest when steppin to these gents..get left on impressed, yer souls we digest, dem bones and dem flows, no contest, so whos next?
ANT the RANT of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
Less is more, unless it's to dress for war, then we just have a mess in store, when red flesh carpet the floor, shirts off fellas let's impress the whores! pushups til my pecks are sore, I'd rather flex a test score, where's all those sexy girls, that cosplay princess Ley, and just wreck my world?
hahaha oh you know what I'm talkin bout...
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
I'm more or less immune to stress; I flex religiously to rebuke duress, bounty hunt the flesh like Boba Fet; if you stay ready, you crush a vegetable like water cress, eat a clucker like a chicken breast... it's brass knuckle surgery on a nut's chest. I'll go to war nekked, knucks on my fists, and diamonds in my breath.
ANT the RANT of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
With a 4 finger ring, that sing, a sweet lullaby when we swing, whoop BING! Feel the hot sting, and have a good night dream... BKPS runs this thing, like we was track training. We leave the wack waiting. I'm here fact trading, like it was a NASDAQ rating, debating on whether to drop some chedder or push to savings.
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
These clones are Aesops, they all fables. We Clydesdales, bashed through the stables... it's non-fiction, there's no debating, bastardize the debate team and beat my chest, verbally berating... the more illegal, the more it's my thang; the fisticuff trading, on some World War II front line wet-thud-thump-ding-bang.
ANT the RANT of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
1942, fighting to find the truth, foxed holed allied with living proof. snipers on the roof shooting untrue. Not being real is something I just can't do, cover me, I'm coming through, flank the left side with real-talk point-of-view. See them in my scopes, let this trigger do what it gotta do, spew a chorus at you, BK forces, reinforce this dude, hoping to have a break through, to these fake fu's, but looks like we'll have to make do. and pursue perfection on my own two.
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
I don't need to fight to find... my strength, bolster my style or my mind. "Still I Rise," and maintain my grind. You can't mimic the phoenix, or doppelgang the pain in my eyes. It's like fourteen nine - conquistador, leave two in the spine; puppet-master these crash test dummies and sever their ties. Ventriloquism spins clockwise from the four-five, and the Red Hand slaps you, 'cause you deserved to be chastised. The might is mine, on some magic tricks like it's D&D time; I'm talkin' bout dick the dimes. They recognize, when they see the sickest sign - Capricorn, leapin' obstacles two at a time. They feel me like braile, but they blind to the sight... of a Mark wit' a bulls-eye in between his eyes. Excuse me, I had to get that off my chest, 'cause real recognize real, and imposters need to die.
ANT the RANT of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
blessed, when the mind overcomes the flesh, discipline at it's best, but lets confess, I'm still human, underneath the surface, every now and then I get a lil nervous, so I test my limets, strap in and work thes, fresh, snow capped mountain in Mammoth, til the sunset or my legs got nothing left. Accept nothing but the best, in this wild wild west.
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
I'm addicted to some wild wild sex; I get my respect: kama sutra and kegels, kinetic energies mesh... sixty-nine different ways to connect. It's a mammoth task to some, but to me it's the carbon dioxide in every single breath - I exhale sex, desires of the flesh. I fucked her with my eyes, she winked, like "wha's next?" It's your world, Mamas - I'm just the best. We could blow some snow, take a couple to the neck... air out the 'dro, or pop a li'l ex... but I'm warning you, I'm relentless, an aphrodisiac, and hold I'll you while we rest. Come'ere Mamas - kiss me while you pet my chest, let me get you wet; let me take away your stress, let the snow beast flex.
-Each1 Teach1- of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
my brethren welcome me to the trenches,
culture shock via the senses,
been shitting 4 days straight
and just hit the defenses..
a bullet whisks me awake
im thinkin that this'll take
more than some getting used to
for me to be a use to
the team i came to serve
with honor that goes unheard
blasting like some absurd
beserker from out the heard
these bullets double as words
these nerves double as steel
each verse becomes the shrapnel
after each gets peeled
an explosion from off the chest
flesh missing from off my neck
i stumble to stagger back
get peppered with armored flack
so as the plasma i contain
finds its freedom from my veins
i'm just waiting here for my train
and now that i think about it,
mother fuck Bahrain...
