Open Mic: Colostomy Bags and Four Leaf Clovers

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   Striking others with these Viking fists,
Im Odins cousin draped in lightning mist.
Im a Norse God
and im flying home,
Born in Prauge, 
but this tiger roams.
Chomp'n at the bit and arthritis bones,
Sail'n midget fits, 
like a pirate gnome!
I come and I go,
the wind in winter,
Spend'n summers alone, 
but its been December.
I remember Novembers,
and the sun in Autumn,
Letters ive rendered, 
you must not of got'em.
Ive come close, 
but still a joke im Loki,
With hopes to choke on pills,
When die'n low key!
If Spring would hold me,
id be OK,
Things told to fold me,
put'n A's to May!
Since its not today, 
lets carry on with whispers,
Full Monty Burns, 
siloquis and a smitten Smithers!
The flowers wither, 
when its my time to bloom,
And the Jameson triggers, 
drink'n nine to noon.
I fine tune,
to develop my psyche,
And grind tooth,
as it tries to bite me!
Its kinda frightening,
a rumble with the king of Valhalla,
Its a morning night thing,
like Muslims when they sing to Allah!
I Jihad in Impalas, 
its a new day in age,
Drop'n more worth than dollars, 
printed on the same page!
I switch blade,
and hammer like Thor,
Total Recall, 
Quaid scatter'n whores!
And ive been here before, 
same trip but different shrooms,
Head sinking to floor, 
as I envision shift'n rooms.
The devils grip consumes, 
think the levels have risen,
I slip to trip papoose, 
life that a mother has given!
Stuck in a prison, 
watch the prism shake,
A grizzly grimace
as I witness ingrates 
Instagram my take, 
its picture perfect,
A candid fake,
the canidates are Earth rich! 

Edited by Brotha Goose - 16 February 2014 at 1:21am