Translated material
Chustva- "Author of reality"
= Rap is dead =
Rap is dead,
Like Rock nineties.
And like in the eighties
Rock-N-Roll.
Although no
There probably is simple
It is necessary to change the details
All to one.
At the epicenter of music,
Not all twelve.
Balls, on the Richter scale.
Everyone just likes to tremble
At least
It looks like that.
Rap is dead,
Just like poets
From the school literature textbook.
Instead of him
It's just that everything is lying
False-Rap with beautiful
abbreviation.
And the most thing for me
It is not clear, this is:-
Why all this
listen.
(Very high quality music
and intelligible diction)
But the feeling
as if
never,
I have not heard
Nothing worse ...
= The role of the artist =
Family from four
This is what I do not know.
My childhood is in sculpture
Teenage features,
And cruelty around
Melancholy painted.
It means to be
talented artist,
Whose paintings are useless (in life).
Whose fame is spreading
wary (and carefully)
Through the rules of the game evil.
The artist himself invents
Reality, and people
She lives
Calmly accepting
All her strangeness,
And only sometimes
Experiencing it because of it.
= Author of reality =
There was a movement in the school windows,
A smoker froze in the store's door.
The voltage was buzzing in the wires,
In my opinion, I was superfluous here.
Traffic lights protruded in the labyrinth,
Past which cars glided,
Passers -by dissolved in access corridors
And they scared houses because they were large.
I scratched the street with my feet
Along brick and concrete walls.
Some girl screamed
probably hoping that they will have entered her
But no one paid attention
No one wanted problems.
I grabbed the rolled reinforcement,
Approaching the back, hit her offender.
The girl said thanks, extending her hand,
In which she kept a hundred bucks in cash.
I did not take the money
Although I really needed them,
Thinking about this, I went through the playing site,
Presenting in the head, it is money rain.
And trying to mentally materialize them,
After all, as we were told at school,
There is a great probability, but definitely cannot say
The possibility of a decimal share.
It turned out. It started to rain
But only instead of bills was damp.
I got wet, froze, trembling ran through my body,
Gray shades predominated, the sun disappeared cowardly.
I ran into a flower shop,
Which, as it turned out, robbed some scum
They were armed, there were two of them, I was alone,
"Facial to the floor!" - they immediately shouted loudly.
Frantically threatening me with a gun
I decided not to check if this weapon is present,
It was impossible to get nervous, I began to imagine the summer,
Trying not to make sure that everything becomes even worse.
The saleswoman yelled at them,
Calling bad words,
Then, to a huge surprise, I took out the barrel
And shot them.
While they turned their heads in my direction.
I was in shock, as if I got into the film,
I always wanted to be an actor.
But now, when I saw
how blood flows, according to these two,
It was no longer like a movie in which,
I would like to act.
And in general, I wanted to dump from here.
But it was necessary to stay
To what happened here,
Confirm the cops.
The saleswoman was calm
As if she was not here at all at the time of the murder.
But I felt slopily
Departing after such cruel risk.
After cops, interrogations, sirens, urgent,
Farewells, gratitude.
I finally left this building,
to the street where dogs barked,
In the usual calm reality.
Hoping that nothing else will happen,
I was driving sitting in a minibus.
Thinking about what awaits me at home
Beloved girl, on whom I missed terribly.
And now, the next will be my stop,
But then a trailer flies into the bus.
And again this House extreme environment,
And again, this sudden, unexpected thriller ...
= Mass construction of poems =
Rhymes in the head,
Like a flock of insect-killer.
Like a crowd of terrible stamps,
Not very pleasant birds.
Millions of murder were drunk in the brain,
Billions of stars flashed in the mind.
Mass construction built up,
Poetic skyscrapers psychosis.
= Do not squeeze out either line =
Do not squeeze out the lines
As if he owed the money.
As if the girl did not give flowers,
He did not call, did not explain, did not wait.
Like the eyes-objects
Like minimalism, nothing superfluous
Like strong feelings unanswered
Like empty book sheets.
Do not squeeze out the lines
From lonely, unrelated words.
It's like zero divided into three,
And just remember pieces from today's dreams.
It's no longer interesting to smoke,
It’s not enough money.
It's like a joyful meeting, but there is nothing to talk about
And even more so
This,
How to feel
third.
= Do not get fooled by famous musicians
(however, just like unknown) =
Such music-sale,
(however, just like all the music).
She is the same paper
She is as artificial.
= Man-west =
Man is thought
From the combinations of letters,
Who gnawed
Visibility and sound.
Together with space
Not included in the chronicle
The speed of fucking,
Forces electronics.
The man-man,
With a face written to the floor,
Hates the evil
From the vile sample.
The game is a pidial system
From abstruse quotes,
Verelous and stupid.
Bleat.
= Spam =
Newspaper cunt
I broke my heart.
Slipped away.
Adding
My life
salt and pepper
Removing.
Spam will add
cheap fame.
But this does not mean anything.
There is a soul in it
Frank emotions
And insolence.
Shame does not hide.
Breaking the boring,
Half -empty.
Cheap, evil
and impudent,
In foundation.
Everyone has their own fucking
And cockroaches.
For spam
All jokes.
And all on the drum.
= Will not be fucked =
They are all thieves
and freaks,
For them all
Country Pie.
It won't
real freedom,
So far, people
Below at their feet.
So far stupid
And stupid,
The people will be
Take it.
And for now
Will not stop
shout stupidly,
It won't
Fuck.
Such a heat around the president,
Everyone seemed to be crazy.
Someone generally knows exactly what's the matter
To hang so many shit.
You figured out who the information sticks
You can definitely trust her.
Or is it a feces just seeping
Masking for chocolate.
Who is the instigator of useless rallies,
You know him personally.
Your mind does not even pull the mark satisfactory,
And you can put your stupidity perfectly.
Not that I wanted to offend someone,
No. I am entirely for the people.
You just can't overthrow someone and do not see your nose further,
And not knowing a person personally, to say that he is a freak.
They are all thieves
and freaks,
For them all
Country Pie.
It won't
real freedom,
So far, people
Below at their feet.
So far stupid
And stupid,
The people will be
Take it.
And for now
Will not stop
shout stupidly,
It won't
Fuck.
Chustva (dvpolishuk)
