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Rap music and white people

Red Memories

Haunted Echoes
Joined
Jun 3, 2017
Messages
6,277
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sx/so
ygUDuh
ydoan
yunnuhstan
ydoan o
yunnuhstand dem
yguduh ged
yunnuhstan dem doidee
yguduh ged riduh
ydoan o nudn
LISN bud LISN
dem
gud
am
lidl yelluh bas
tuds weer goin
duhSIVILEYEzum


e.e. cummings, "ygUDuh"

side note in my 20th century poetry class we had a section on him and I was so sick of his try hard shit. god he's an insult to good poetry.
 

Kingu Kurimuzon

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Joined
Aug 27, 2013
Messages
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sp/sx
The Platonic Blow
W.H. Auden

It was a spring day, a day for a lay, when the air
Smelled like a locker-room, a day to blow or get blown;
Returning from lunch I turned my corner and there
On a near-by stoop I saw him standing alone.
I glanced as I advanced. The clean white T-shirt outlined
A forceful torso, the light-blue denims divulged
Much. I observed the snug curves where they hugged the behind,
I watched the crotch where the cloth intriguingly bulged.
Our eyes met. I felt sick. My knees turned weak.
I couldn’t move. I didn’t know what to say.
In a blur I heard words, myself like a stranger speak
“Will you come to my room?” Then a husky voice, “O.K.”
I produced some beer and we talked. Like a little boy
He told me his story. Present address: next door.
Half Polish, half Irish. The youngest. From Illinois.
Profession: mechanic. Name: Bud. Age: twenty-four.
He put down his glass and stretched his bare arms along
The back of my sofa. The afternoon sunlight struck
The blond hairs on the wrist near my head. His chin was strong.
His mouth sucky. I could hardly believe my luck.
And here he was sitting beside me, legs apart.
I could bear it no longer. I touched the inside of his thigh.
His reply was to move closer. I trembled, my heart
Thumped and jumped as my fingers went to his fly.
I opened a gap in the flap. I went in there.
I sought for a slit in the gripper shorts that had charge
Of the basket I asked for. I came to warm flesh then to hair.
I went on. I found what I hoped. I groped. It was large.
He responded to my fondling in a charming, disarming way:
Without a word he unbuckled his belt while I felt.
And lolled back, stretching his legs. His pants fell away.
Carefully drawing it out, I beheld what I held.
The circumcised head was a work of mastercraft
With perfectly beveled rim of unusual weight
And the friendliest red. Even relaxed, the shaft
Was of noble dimensions with the wrinkles that indicate
Singular powers of extension. For a second or two,
It lay there inert, then suddenly stirred in my hand,
Then paused as if frightened or doubtful of what to do.
And then with a violent jerk began to expand.
By soundless bounds it extended and distended, by quick
Great leaps it rose, it flushed, it rushed to its full size.
Nearly nine inches long and three inches thick,
A royal column, ineffably solemn and wise.
I tested its length and strength with a manual squeeze.
I bunched my fingers and twirled them about the knob.
I stroked it from top to bottom. I got on my knees.
I lowered my head. I opened my mouth for the job.
But he pushed me gently away. He bent down. He unlaced
His shoes. He removed his socks. Stood up. Shed
His pants altogether. Muscles in arms and waist
Rippled as he whipped his T-shirt over his head.
I scanned his tan, enjoyed the contrast of brown
Trunk against white shorts taut around small
Hips. With a dig and a wriggle he peeled them down.
I tore off my clothes. He faced me, smiling. I saw all.
The gorgeous organ stood stiffly and straightly out
With a slight flare upwards. At each beat of his heart it threw
An odd little nod my way. From the slot of the spout
Exuded a drop of transparent viscous goo.
The lair of hair was fair, the grove of a young man,
A tangle of curls and whorls, luxuriant but couth.
Except for a spur of golden hairs that fan
To the neat navel, the rest of the belly was smooth.
Well hung, slung from the fork of the muscular legs,
The firm vase of his sperm, like a bulging pear,
Cradling its handsome glands, two herculean eggs,
Swung as he came towards me, shameless, bare.
We aligned mouths. We entwined. All act was clutch,
All fact contact, the attack and the interlock
Of tongues, the charms of arms. I shook at the touch
Of his fresh flesh, I rocked at the shock of his cock.
Straddling my legs a little I inserted his divine
Person between and closed on it tight as I could.
The upright warmth of his belly lay all along mine.
Nude, glued together for a minute, we stood.
I stroked the lobes of his ears, the back of his head
And the broad shoulders. I took bold hold of the compact
Globes of his bottom. We tottered. He fell on the bed.
Lips parted, eyes closed, he lay there, ripe for the act.
Mad to be had, to be felt and smelled. My lips
Explored the adorable masculine tits. My eyes
Assessed the chest. I caressed the athletic hips
And the slim limbs. I approved the grooves of the thighs.
I hugged, I snuggled into an armpit. I sniffed
The subtle whiff of its tuft. I lapped up the taste
Of its hot hollow. My fingers began to drift
On a trek of inspection, a leisurely tour of the waist.
Downward in narrowing circles they playfully strayed.
Encroached on his privates like poachers, approached the prick,
But teasingly swerved, retreated from meeting. It betrayed
Its pleading need by a pretty imploring kick.
“Shall I rim you?” I whispered. He shifted his limbs in assent.
Turned on his side and opened his legs, let me pass
To the dark parts behind. I kissed as I went
The great thick cord that ran back from his balls to his arse.
Prying the buttocks aside, I nosed my way in
Down the shaggy slopes. I came to the puckered goal.
It was quick to my licking. He pressed his crotch to my chin.
His thighs squirmed as my tongue wormed in his hole.
His sensations yearned for consummation. He untucked
His legs and lay panting, hot as a teen-age boy.
Naked, enlarged, charged, aching to get sucked,
Clawing the sheet, all his pores open to joy.
I inspected his erection. I surveyed his parts with a stare
From scrotum level. Sighting along the underside
Of his cock, I looked through the forest of pubic hair
To the range of the chest beyond rising lofty and wide.
I admired the texture, the delicate wrinkles and the neat
Sutures of the capacious bag. I adored the grace
Of the male genitalia. I raised the delicious meat
Up to my mouth, brought the face of its hard-on to my face.
Slipping my lips round the Byzantine dome of the head,
With the tip of my tongue I caressed the sensitive groove.
He thrilled to the trill. “That’s lovely!” he hoarsely said.
“Go on! Go on!” Very slowly I started to move.
Gently, intently, I slid to the massive base
Of his tower of power, paused there a moment down
In the warm moist thicket, then began to retrace
Inch by inch the smooth way to the throbbing crown.
Indwelling excitements swelled at delights to come
As I descended and ascended those thick distended walls.
I grasped his root between left forefinger and thumb
And with my right hand tickled his heavy voluminous balls.
I plunged with a rhythmical lunge steady and slow,
And at every stroke made a corkscrew roll with my tongue.
His soul reeled in the feeling. He whimpered “Oh!”
As I tongued and squeezed and rolled and tickled and swung.
Then I pressed on the spot where the groin is joined to the cock,
Slipped a finger into his arse and massaged him from inside.
The secret sluices of his juices began to unlock.
He melted into what he felt. “O Jesus!” he cried.
Waves of immeasurable pleasures mounted his member in quick
Spasms. I lay still in the notch of his crotch inhaling his sweat.
His ring convulsed round my finger. Into me, rich and thick,
His hot spunk spouted in gouts, spurted in jet after jet.
 
Joined
Jul 24, 2008
Messages
22,429
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EVIL
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sp/so
The Platonic Blow
W.H. Auden

It was a spring day, a day for a lay, when the air
Smelled like a locker-room, a day to blow or get blown;
Returning from lunch I turned my corner and there
On a near-by stoop I saw him standing alone.
I glanced as I advanced. The clean white T-shirt outlined
A forceful torso, the light-blue denims divulged
Much. I observed the snug curves where they hugged the behind,
I watched the crotch where the cloth intriguingly bulged.
Our eyes met. I felt sick. My knees turned weak.
I couldn’t move. I didn’t know what to say.
In a blur I heard words, myself like a stranger speak
“Will you come to my room?” Then a husky voice, “O.K.”
I produced some beer and we talked. Like a little boy
He told me his story. Present address: next door.
Half Polish, half Irish. The youngest. From Illinois.
Profession: mechanic. Name: Bud. Age: twenty-four.
He put down his glass and stretched his bare arms along
The back of my sofa. The afternoon sunlight struck
The blond hairs on the wrist near my head. His chin was strong.
His mouth sucky. I could hardly believe my luck.
And here he was sitting beside me, legs apart.
I could bear it no longer. I touched the inside of his thigh.
His reply was to move closer. I trembled, my heart
Thumped and jumped as my fingers went to his fly.
I opened a gap in the flap. I went in there.
I sought for a slit in the gripper shorts that had charge
Of the basket I asked for. I came to warm flesh then to hair.
I went on. I found what I hoped. I groped. It was large.
He responded to my fondling in a charming, disarming way:
Without a word he unbuckled his belt while I felt.
And lolled back, stretching his legs. His pants fell away.
Carefully drawing it out, I beheld what I held.
The circumcised head was a work of mastercraft
With perfectly beveled rim of unusual weight
And the friendliest red. Even relaxed, the shaft
Was of noble dimensions with the wrinkles that indicate
Singular powers of extension. For a second or two,
It lay there inert, then suddenly stirred in my hand,
Then paused as if frightened or doubtful of what to do.
And then with a violent jerk began to expand.
By soundless bounds it extended and distended, by quick
Great leaps it rose, it flushed, it rushed to its full size.
Nearly nine inches long and three inches thick,
A royal column, ineffably solemn and wise.
I tested its length and strength with a manual squeeze.
I bunched my fingers and twirled them about the knob.
I stroked it from top to bottom. I got on my knees.
I lowered my head. I opened my mouth for the job.
But he pushed me gently away. He bent down. He unlaced
His shoes. He removed his socks. Stood up. Shed
His pants altogether. Muscles in arms and waist
Rippled as he whipped his T-shirt over his head.
I scanned his tan, enjoyed the contrast of brown
Trunk against white shorts taut around small
Hips. With a dig and a wriggle he peeled them down.
I tore off my clothes. He faced me, smiling. I saw all.
The gorgeous organ stood stiffly and straightly out
With a slight flare upwards. At each beat of his heart it threw
An odd little nod my way. From the slot of the spout
Exuded a drop of transparent viscous goo.
The lair of hair was fair, the grove of a young man,
A tangle of curls and whorls, luxuriant but couth.
Except for a spur of golden hairs that fan
To the neat navel, the rest of the belly was smooth.
Well hung, slung from the fork of the muscular legs,
The firm vase of his sperm, like a bulging pear,
Cradling its handsome glands, two herculean eggs,
Swung as he came towards me, shameless, bare.
We aligned mouths. We entwined. All act was clutch,
All fact contact, the attack and the interlock
Of tongues, the charms of arms. I shook at the touch
Of his fresh flesh, I rocked at the shock of his cock.
Straddling my legs a little I inserted his divine
Person between and closed on it tight as I could.
The upright warmth of his belly lay all along mine.
Nude, glued together for a minute, we stood.
I stroked the lobes of his ears, the back of his head
And the broad shoulders. I took bold hold of the compact
Globes of his bottom. We tottered. He fell on the bed.
Lips parted, eyes closed, he lay there, ripe for the act.
Mad to be had, to be felt and smelled. My lips
Explored the adorable masculine tits. My eyes
Assessed the chest. I caressed the athletic hips
And the slim limbs. I approved the grooves of the thighs.
I hugged, I snuggled into an armpit. I sniffed
The subtle whiff of its tuft. I lapped up the taste
Of its hot hollow. My fingers began to drift
On a trek of inspection, a leisurely tour of the waist.
Downward in narrowing circles they playfully strayed.
Encroached on his privates like poachers, approached the prick,
But teasingly swerved, retreated from meeting. It betrayed
Its pleading need by a pretty imploring kick.
“Shall I rim you?” I whispered. He shifted his limbs in assent.
Turned on his side and opened his legs, let me pass
To the dark parts behind. I kissed as I went
The great thick cord that ran back from his balls to his arse.
Prying the buttocks aside, I nosed my way in
Down the shaggy slopes. I came to the puckered goal.
It was quick to my licking. He pressed his crotch to my chin.
His thighs squirmed as my tongue wormed in his hole.
His sensations yearned for consummation. He untucked
His legs and lay panting, hot as a teen-age boy.
Naked, enlarged, charged, aching to get sucked,
Clawing the sheet, all his pores open to joy.
I inspected his erection. I surveyed his parts with a stare
From scrotum level. Sighting along the underside
Of his cock, I looked through the forest of pubic hair
To the range of the chest beyond rising lofty and wide.
I admired the texture, the delicate wrinkles and the neat
Sutures of the capacious bag. I adored the grace
Of the male genitalia. I raised the delicious meat
Up to my mouth, brought the face of its hard-on to my face.
Slipping my lips round the Byzantine dome of the head,
With the tip of my tongue I caressed the sensitive groove.
He thrilled to the trill. “That’s lovely!” he hoarsely said.
“Go on! Go on!” Very slowly I started to move.
Gently, intently, I slid to the massive base
Of his tower of power, paused there a moment down
In the warm moist thicket, then began to retrace
Inch by inch the smooth way to the throbbing crown.
Indwelling excitements swelled at delights to come
As I descended and ascended those thick distended walls.
I grasped his root between left forefinger and thumb
And with my right hand tickled his heavy voluminous balls.
I plunged with a rhythmical lunge steady and slow,
And at every stroke made a corkscrew roll with my tongue.
His soul reeled in the feeling. He whimpered “Oh!”
As I tongued and squeezed and rolled and tickled and swung.
Then I pressed on the spot where the groin is joined to the cock,
Slipped a finger into his arse and massaged him from inside.
The secret sluices of his juices began to unlock.
He melted into what he felt. “O Jesus!” he cried.
Waves of immeasurable pleasures mounted his member in quick
Spasms. I lay still in the notch of his crotch inhaling his sweat.
His ring convulsed round my finger. Into me, rich and thick,
His hot spunk spouted in gouts, spurted in jet after jet.

Only modern degenerates write about such vulgar topics as sex. Certainly not the classics of Western civilization like Shakespeare or Boccaccio.
 

Kingu Kurimuzon

Well-known member
Joined
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side note in my 20th century poetry class we had a section on him and I was so sick of his try hard shit. god he's an insult to good poetry.

it's not try hard, it's abstracting the form. playing with phonetics, wordplay, etc. he was doing for poetry what painters like Picasso were doing with the visual forms of art around the same time. cummings started out writing with traditional meter and verse, but saw that form had been taken to it's logical ends, so abstracting and breaking from traditionalist forms was (in his opinion) the next logical step. It was heavily influential on poets in the second half of the 20th century too. Probably wouldn't be beat poets like Kerouac, Ferlinghetti, et al without his influence.
 

Jaguar

Active member
Joined
May 5, 2007
Messages
20,639
Now this looks like a job for me
So everybody just follow me
'Cause we need a little controversy
'Cause it feels so empty without me
I said, this looks like a job for me
So everybody just follow me
'Cause we need a little controversy
'Cause it feels so empty without me
 
Joined
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Messages
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sp/so
Now this looks like a job for me
So everybody just follow me
'Cause we need a little controversy
'Cause it feels so empty without me
I said, this looks like a job for me
So everybody just follow me
'Cause we need a little controversy
'Cause it feels so empty without me

His grandfather was the better white jazz spoken word artist. He was a veteran, too. Are you going to piss on a veteran?
 

Jaguar

Active member
Joined
May 5, 2007
Messages
20,639
His grandfather was the better white jazz spoken word artist. He was a veteran, too. Are you going to piss on a veteran?

Now this looks like a job for me
So everybody just follow me
'Cause we need a little controversy
'Cause it feels so empty without me
I said, this looks like a job for me
So everybody just follow me
'Cause we need a little controversy
'Cause it feels so empty without me
 
Joined
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Messages
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sp/so
Now this looks like a job for me
So everybody just follow me
'Cause we need a little controversy
'Cause it feels so empty without me
I said, this looks like a job for me
So everybody just follow me
'Cause we need a little controversy
'Cause it feels so empty without me

Whatever bro. Gonna sniff some ether.
 

Kingu Kurimuzon

Well-known member
Joined
Aug 27, 2013
Messages
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Only modern degenerates write about such vulgar topics as sex. Certainly not the classics of Western civilization like Shakespeare or Boccaccio.

oh yeah, Shakespeare never wrote anything dirty to appeal to the common masses. nothing at all.
 

Kingu Kurimuzon

Well-known member
Joined
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Messages
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[Verse 1: Ghostface Killah]
The only man a hoe wait for
is the sky-blue Bally kid, in '83, rocked Taylor's
My Memorex performed tape decks, my own phone sex
Watch out for Haiti bitches, I heard they throw hex
Yo, Wu whole platoon is filled with raccoons
Corner sitting wine niggaz sipping Apple Boone this ain't no white cartoon
'Cause I be ducking crazy spades
The kid hold white shit, like blacks rock ashy legs
Why is the sky blue? Why is water wet?
Why did Judas, rat to Romans while Jesus slept?
Stand up, you're out of luck like two dogs stuck
Iron Man be sipping rum, out of Stanley Cups, inflammable
Noriega, aiming knives which stay windy in Chicago
spine-tingle, mind boggles
Kangols in rainbow colours, promoters try to hold dough
Give me mine before Po, wrap you up in so-and-so
I ran the Dark Ages, Constantine the Great, Henry the Eighth
Built with Genghis Khan, the wreck suede Wally Don

[Verse 2: Killah Priest]
I judge wisely, as if nothing ever surprise me
Lounging, between two pillars of ivory
I'm lively, my dome piece, is like building stones in Greece
my poems are deep from ancient thrones I speak
I'm overwhelmed, as my mind, roams the realm
My eye's the vision, memory is the film
Others act sub-tile, but they fragile above clouds
They act wild and couldn't budge a crowd
No matter how loud they get, though they growl and spit
Clutch they fists, and throw up signs like a Crip
And throw all types of fits
I leave them split, like ass cheeks and ragged pussy lips

[Verse 3: RZA]
Aiyyo, camouflage chameleon, ninjas scaling your building
No time to grab the gun they already got your wife and children
A hit was sent, from the President to raid your residence
Because you had secret evidence, and documents
on how they raped the continents, and it's the prominent
dominant Islamic, Asiatic black Hebrew
The year two thousand and two, the battle's filled with the Wu
Six million devils just died from the Bubonic Flu
Or the Ebola Virus, under the reign of King Cyrus
You can see the weakness of a man right through his iris
Un-loyal snakes get thrown in boiling lakes
of hot oil, it boils your skin, chickenheads getting slim
like Olive Oyl, only plant the seed deep inside fertile soil
Fortified with essential, vitamin and minerals
Use the sky for a blanket, stuffing clouds inside my pillow
Rolling with the lambs
Twelve tribes a hundred and forty four thousand chosen
Protons Electrons Always Cause Explosions

[Verse 4: GZA]
The banks of G, all cream downs a bet
Money feed good, opposites off the set
It ain't hard to see, my seeds need God-degree
I got mouths to feed, unnecessary beef is more cows to breed
I'm on some tax free shit by any means
Whether bound to hit scheme or some counterfeit cream
I learned much from such with cons who run scams
Veterans got the game spiced like ham
And from that, sons are born and guns are drawn
Clips are fully loaded, and then blood floods the lawn
Disciplinary action was a fraction of strength
that made me truncate the length one-tenth
With his thump, tweaters hits like air pumps
RZA shaved the track, niggaz caught razor bumps
Scarred trying to figure who invented
this unprecedented, opium-scented, dark-tinted
Now watch me blow him out his shoes without clues
'Cause I won't hesitate to detonate, I'm short fuse


GZA, Ghostface Killah, Killah Priest, RZA, "4th Chamber"
 

Kingu Kurimuzon

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You replicas overlooking the guidelines of acoustics
Miserable attempts result in miserable conclusions
Paragon pen dragon tactician on freeform
Then a comfortable silence try to combat cliques
That unexpected Sephotus cyclone shifts
Worked up you're shooken, jetted to the side
I stagger this vagabond wondering menstrual forms of phobia
Worst fear the terrace stricken muted
The roots of all evil I've rooted pinnacle
Poised with pride pouncing to break your stride, forsaken
Agony rides inside the heartache wretched condition
My intuition felt you slip up
You tripped alone what are you aiming for?
Or do you sus tries to classify your genus, distorted fetus
Evolve, type unsolved, you lack the malediction
Malleable martyrs get molded, then folded under pressure
Thou perceives a slaughter suspension
Bridge over troubled water drown, sound study intensive
My square drops two erasing lines like tetris
Relentless agent hush horrendous circles on my pavement
Two sticks to burn basics the lie adjacent to my placement
On the game board, lunge forward and wind-up impaled by the same sword
Choose your weapon, stains splattered upon your flag
Taturag shielding the exterior inferior
Stall face to face with a forms that force your downfall
Admittedly suspicious, a decadence, your network's on hiatus
Permanent, provoked and choked upon the potency
The parrow be the penetrating agent pierce the insides
Why the cold sweats at midnight? Why the dim light?
Why are we staring at a true from the inside?
Why the pen slide with vigor on a put down?
Like while I put my foot down stomp your city
A-E-S-O-P scoping through the bur, opening minds behind the smirks

I've seen misery, I've seen disgust dust ridden ruins
Iron clad oracle test three COM unit disperse silently
Over confidence leads to irony
Plot twist full hardy Icarus shifted in facets of my form
Forbidden aspects of the swarm a thorn upon your side
A storm upon the rise, Adam, I or crush come brush upon the red zone
Crook you're shook you started poorly
Your powers parted pace uncharted territory
Disoriented malicious god you'll burn your bridges
This craft requires first drafts
Graphs, gritted blueprints of nemesis perimeter
Hunting by night compute, twenty one mic salute
One life polluted, concerned muffle moans
From the nine rings of Donnie's hell burn you in your slumber
Sleepwalk then pulled under now
Whipping through the willows is the warden of this garden
Slipping through the silhouetted skylines Aesop sidewinds jaded
Don't wind up war painted into the jungle the solution's not intrusion
The starving institution broke your main frame
I pose the question, are these waiting games worth it or worthless?
While I comb the crowd for clues your nyebony hands be my purpose
Our planet is the pivotal point
In which this network slowly turns to filter kicks
We out-box the berserk bewildered by the wilderness
My clench is frantic clutch manners falling through underbrush
Touch fools that duel with a dominant
The evil-minded tried to triple six me but he missed me
Intervene; emcees appear as red blips on my color radar screen
 
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Head to the park. Plenty of piles. I can see for miles and miles.


Bro.

your ballroom days are over, night is drawing near, shadows of the evening drip across the years; you walk across the floor with a flower in your hand, trying to tell me no one understand.
 

Red Memories

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it's not try hard, it's abstracting the form. playing with phonetics, wordplay, etc. he was doing for poetry what painters like Picasso were doing with the visual forms of art around the same time. cummings started out writing with traditional meter and verse, but saw that form had been taken to it's logical ends, so abstracting and breaking from traditionalist forms was (in his opinion) the next logical step. It was heavily influential on poets in the second half of the 20th century too. Probably wouldn't be beat poets like Kerouac, Ferlinghetti, et al without his influence.

oh I realize the reason we learned it is the foundation he allowed for others. but still reading that was PAINFUL. XD
 

Mole

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Joined
Mar 20, 2008
Messages
20,282
We see plenty of examples of Rap below, but none it is music. It is simply bad poetry.

But Rap serves a purpose: to denigrate high culture, to mock good taste, and to demoralise the West.
 
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We see plenty of examples of Rap below, but none it is music. It is simply bad poetry.

But Rap serves a purpose: to denigrate high culture, to mock good taste, and to demoralise the West.

Shame on rap music for destroying the beautiful culture that produced this:

super-trump-ep-2016.jpg
 
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