Thursday, July 06, 2017

Fireflies (poem)


firefly nights & dandelion days. 
noontime rides midday. 
crazy liars inspired by fate... 

forever one lady always my mind. 
rise high, climb fires to die... 
the flower, to light...

 atop a reservoir - deliverance
will smile tomorrow - crying tonight
epitome of epitaph - strewn across sights

furious tag hops
syrupy stick grip, candy bag pop
the next summer destination
gentle marshmallow congratulations
moonlight flame pit fringe branches
a spiral.
mask my face

when gods knew not
 -when lost on pew of rising dewdrop

sock holes around the edge
water bank slope, dragonflies' ledge
lightning bug flashlight chase, damp fields
goblin meals, racing madmen
camera reel.
jelly jar names

dandelion days & firefly nights.
reflections of the feeling of life.
everyone is nobody tonight...

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Camping Trip Joke Story

It reminds me of the old days when my friends and I would leave our city lives and venture through the outdoors and wilderness in camping expeditions during youthful escapades.  From the dwelling climbs and clamor to the tranquility of circling campsites in the great Adirondak forests of the North.
The night which I am recalling was as normal as anyone might expect.  A fellow camper had poked a traveler with an extended-out tent pole, until the instigated one pulled a knife out on the entire party in drunken fear like a rabbit in headlights, and proceeded to light himself partially on fire with a can of gasoline we had handy for lighting the campfire.  The campers told stories through the night that none of us remembered because we were drunk.  As I closed the tent flap, I remember thinking this was safe enough and that the bears out in the woods would most probably protect us from anybody.
When I awoke in the morning I was surprised to feel something inside my sleeping bag with me.  It was large and had claws.  I immediately started screaming, and shrieking, in terror.  The other hikers first prevented me from panic by grabbing me from behind and holding me as I nearly shit myself in fear.  It didn't take that long for me to identify from the fur and the action within the sleeping bag, that there was two fully grown badgers in there, with me.  A male, and a female, to be specific, by the way they were going at it.  Thankfully, we had quick-thinking campers ready with the idea to go to the outdoors septic tank that we were camping near (and yes, we were located near to a campgrounds with toilets and showers and probably security guard weaponry of some sort,) and grab the hose off of the end of it, and reach it to the tent and plug it up to the end of my sleeping bag.  They threw that son of a bitch in reverse, and sure enough off came the sleeping bag, both badgers, and my pants!

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

The 3 Stories Of Life

There is God & The Devil, but there is also Mother Nature.  God wants us to live and die noble lives.  The Devil wants us to destroy our brethren lives, while Mother Nature just encompasses all of Life's eternal chaos and mischief that will lead to the eventual end of the world.  All 3 Stories are Father Death's.  Jesus Christ & The Holy Ghost are only symbols of Man.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Winter In The City (poem)

"Winter In The City"
out here blowing balls of snow throwing round white powder watching my driveway for trucks and bums as sirens blaring louder trembling and sweating in my pullover hood for infinite endless hours under those piled high cloud mountains while i'm looking so homeless overdressed unshaved dirty or least unclean and still not showered stressing the first day the last month a week away now cowers no sun sky turns grey even bridges seem to horde our lifeline sides on suppliers of power to neighborhoods that are totally plowed over foul everyone gets more sour like cowards while winter in each city sucks because it all is awful against lightless froze skyscraper towers
-Twyll The ChyllTyrant

Thursday, September 01, 2016

Hopping The Curb

the first time I hopped the curb, it was with a woman.  the lady we called sweet destruction.  I didn't know at the time how bad things were going, but drying her tears on the side of the inner harbor, and refilling them with beers from the tents on the grassy knoll that dropped off an embankment into the performance pit.  the wind that raced through the window on my passenger side streamed with the sunlight, sharp purple gusts that stole my breath. 
losing control of my own vehicle late one night on a midnight chase, the sharp turn should have wrecked my alignment.  I hopped about 3 feet off the ground into somebody's yard.  freshly having chugged two forties through a funnel.  no damage to any of the property, no damage to the vehicle.  those were the days I freely broke traffic laws.  recently I wonder what I ever was thinking.
the last time I hopped the curb in a car, the first time I met an estranged lady in an apartment parking lot, by observing her as she paced alone under lamp posts.  never having had much interactions with the druggies, I already assumed she was drunk and invited a young cohort of mine who struggled throughout his own life, probably because of a divided home, to help control the situation I was anticipating getting myself into.  she was a single mother, tearing down the road to steal deuces from a grocery store in her giant purse.  we had the third wheeler blow breath in the installed breathalyzer.  i'm a little surprised any of us survived.

those are my three times I hopped the curb in a car.
drive safely.

Friday, August 12, 2016

Halo

stepping out toward me, through the walk way naked light, you lived in the poetry, stroking the brilliant ideas whether those windows or smoky mirrors saw. the poetic shadows of illuminated foregrounds in a painting painted in the entropic cosmos by the conscientiously starved, yet never fearing, conscious, the hold of death in your sleepy smile throughout all of these subservient, ambivalent, and often anonymous, consequent conversations, to all inspiration. built out of temporal garden chores, in winding winds that castle's stair stare at in fixation like a familiar face in porno. that this never exists. so, as not the sewers reap the weeping in the children's view, hollow call of teenage crisis or lost city youth. wild, to you, love is throwing flicking color in ghastly reminiscent shade at scornful amusing frowns of dying imagination into the gambling gambol of disbelief at my very own uncontrollable flowering dreams. the discomfort of the lost, after the certainty of power. this is the way angels dance in heaven, deep.

Wednesday, August 03, 2016

Tragedy Of The Universe

I believe in the "Tragic" existence of human life, in that it is alone in the universe.There's the horizontal versus vertical difference between humans and every other species on the planet, which is based off mental energy, besides birds, kangaroos, apes, and circus monkeys, we're the only bipeds in the animal kingdom.  This is just one reason for the un-likelihood of alien life on other planets. I don't believe in them.
I also believe in multiple universes that mirror ours in most ways, and that it is probably impossible to get to them. that is what holds the universe together, is it's interwoven storyline or intergalactic-genetic code, kind of concept.  Look at it that way.  Other life forms in other universes would never have the need or ability to transcend dimensions, either.  There is probably multiple dimensions, though, inhabited by what might be considered "space alien", or insect-like or viral climate types of life.  Consider that like the "entropy-sphere" around our natural universe.
It took 30,000 years for us to develop writing, once we had discovered the distance-travel possible with domesticated horses, yet the human race has been around for 200,000 years.  Writing began only 10,000 years ago, and travel by ship began only 5,000 years ago.  This would indicate slow evolution within our own species.
The tragedy is that the pollutants that affect our bodies from our collective genetic ancestors, as well as the environmental tipping point in our planetary climate and global warming, which was reached several years ago.  This point at which our planet will become uninhabitable and humans extinct. 

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

An Interview With Durham University


1) How you came to use BitTorrent? Did you try other ways of distributing your music first?

1) As an independent promoter, it first took a lot of self-education and courage to delve into the distribution side of the music and entertainment industry.  The first thing that it took to become as successful as I became involved with the music industry, was the material/product and a "gimmick."  Without a gimmick, I would never have been able to separate my name as a unique entity from other musicians that were up for record labels' speculation for future handling and cooperation.  Thus, I spent many years studying the "game",  and making music without releasing anything to the public.  Evantually, I began setting up webpages on MySpace, SoundClick, and others, but it wasn't until I received "sponsorship" from a small local promotion label that I felt prepared to market any release.  The next step for me, was to solidify the image that I had started build into the then still-shaping mold of the local music scene, so I went directly to a privately-owned small record store business and asked to have my mixtapes displayed for sale in their "Local" section.  This lasted for about a half a year, before the label that had signed me collapsed and folded under, and at which point, I withdrew my mixtapes from the record store.  In the meantime, I had looked at other ways of distributing my own music, already foreseeing the label's crumble due to the fickle state of the local scene in Syracuse, where the market was under continual change.  I decided "DatPiff", would be a good start because of it being the most popular rap mixtape download provider for public users on the internet.  I wrote DatPiff.com and explained that I was working with a label, and that I was promoting free downloads of Creative Commons music that I had created.  They agreed to let me upload onto their site, and I was one of the first independent hip hop artists to be included on the website.  For the reason that I was a trailblazer for other artists to get a chance to independently promote on DatPiff, I was very successful in my first releases on that site, in 2006 and 2007 and 2008, and it definitely helped me gain a mindset of a bold entrepeneur.  As I saw my successes gaining in momentum, I decided that "Torrent" files were a simultaneously expanding platform on the internet, which lead me to write "Mininova" and explain the circumstances that I was under, again, and gain a Content Distribution access account.  At first, while I was submitting material to the Library Of Congress, I used one account to upload a handful of mixtapes.  I also went ahead and set up a "ReverbNation" account that tied together Twitter, RSS Feeds, and FaceBook with already established streaming music pages for my promotional use.  When Mininova underwent internal changes, I was given a new account and that's where I began uploading a giant steady slew of my own mixtapes and albums.  I knew that Torrent was going to be a great way to distribute because of the fact that my uploads would be available on many different webpages, and not limited to just one site location.  It indeed was a great transformation for me as an artist, and took me to a level of professionalism that I had been waiting to achieve for myself, even as my former small label became defunct.  Distributing through Mininova has been a very useful part of my life, hobby, and career.  It has lead to me being one of the biggest names in Underground music history.

2) What you hope to get out of putting your music up on sites like Mininova?

2) By releasing my music on Torrent, I hope that I can help shape the future of music.  I also wish for my image to become a popular legend, worldwide, as the content has been downloaded in every country, and I have reached well over a million downloads on just Mininova.  This is all in the hopes that I will be able to transfer my entertainment image into a different business development one day, such as ownership of my own company, or mainstream success in music even, if a big record label reaches out to sign me and my artists.  Most of all, I hope that listeners enjoy my work.

In conclusion, I have found it to be a very satisfying and fun experience, distributing my music through Torrent.  I hope that others will share the success that I have found, and that we will continue to perpetuate new music for people to enjoy all over the planet.

3) You said that to become successful you need a play the "game". Do you feel that uploading your music to BitTorrent is more a way of making a name for yourself in the traditional music industry (a 'gimmick'), or do you see it as a step away from the usual music distribution model that could change how the industry works in the future?
3) To me, music is not a conventional business. The music industry serves a purpose in the business world, but in doing so sacrifices individuality for the ability to distribute mass-consumption products. I know that I've been successful in making a name for myself within the music industry, because I have received responses to my music from people like Wu-Tang, Diplomats, Ruff Ryders, 3-6 Mafia, Anticon, and many others. The point of my endeavors in the music industry are therefore as a separate, distinguishable entity that is not a member of the business. I make my point by firstly separating myself from the "puppets" of pop culture. Secondly, I produce my own unique sound that is pretty non-replicated. Although it definitely has developed into it's own sort of gimmick for me, I hope that this will be seen as a way to change the way the industry works. Hopefully, we will have more people producing better music from their own personal capabilities without being controlled by a label management, or gone askew through promotional vehicles of musical creation that often result in failure. Independent marketing is a strongpoint of my career.

PEACE

Monday, March 28, 2016

Not!

Hi, I'm not the Devil. 
If you look at my nose, you can see that I don't even have a very good imagination.
Instead, I have a bad imagination.  Meaning, I don't have normal dreams, I have awkward conversations, and I'm terrible at trying to lie.
You can tell that by looking at my dimples.  It's like my mouth is in parenthesis.
So I make up jokes, and it can be a little embarrassing.  I shouldn't.
Like why did the chicken cross the road?  It was bored.
The fact is, bad humor has been around much longer than any other humor.
Before comedy, I've always liked to smoke a cigarette.  It makes my voice more cool sounding.
I like to philosophize over the Bible, too.  It is totally amateurish, but still kind of amusing.
In my version of Heaven, for example, the only way that you can get in is if you get a joke.
Try this joke:  What's the first writing on the page of the Bible?  The page number.
Here's another one:  What's the difference between one and negative one?
The hyphen.
If a tree falls in the woods, and lands on a man, he's a liar.
I know it's nihilistic, but I just think we are at a point of life on this planet,
where we have destroyed most of our reasons to try to succeed.
I also invented a new holiday.  International American Diplomacy Day. 
Let it be the one day a year you are allowed to say a joke to somebody but have had to tried to get them a bad gift, they might not even like, of some kind, too.
See, in my opinion, the only time it's ever cool to make fun of someone else's culture,
is when you're in a laboratory with other scientists.
Aside from in my 10th grade Biology class... 
In which we were broadcast the 9/11 events like sports radio.
Which reminds me of the old joke about the brokers who jump off the Wall Street Wall and broke their collars.  They were asked by the reporters why they did it, and they wouldn't give a quote.
Meanwhile, my worst irrational fear is getting into the wrong car in a parking lot.
No, this isn't another rap, so at least you can thank me for that.  Maybe.

Thursday, March 17, 2016

About a guy in sweatpants a pair of j's a white tee with a jersey over the top and a fitted cap.

You see this guy in sweatpants a pair of j's a white tee with a jersey over the top and a fitted cap all over town and in every section of town he's a different guy.
On The West Side he's a drug dealer.
On The East Side he's a working stiff.
On The North Side he's a crack head.
On The South Side he's a crazy man.

Just be on a look out for the guy in sweatpants a pair of j's a white tee with a jersey over the top and a fitted cap.

Tuesday, December 08, 2015

Arbitrary Time

An accurate Human Timeline based on civilized events, can be lead to achieve higher results when juxtaposed against the current modern dilemma of mankind.  According to my arbitrary Wikipedia investigation, the invention of writing dates back ten thousand years.  The invention of the wheel and domestication of horse, for use as transportation between cities, was dated five thousand years ago.  The invention of the computer and electricity, has been the past couple hundred of years.  The expansion of man out of India, into America, and out of England, into America, took a course of the last twenty thousand years, according to new research by National Geographic.  Christianity was only formed two thousand years ago.  This all means that only 10% of the Human Timeline has contained Christianity, and the wars between white people, and eventually all of the other continents on Earth.  However, cities and civilization has been running and operating pretty smoothly and with successful progress towards writing and the education of our population about virtuous and ethical behavior, for almost half of the time that we have been able to travel and partake in bartering and commercial business.  While the benefits of the computer and electricity on industry have been probably too small to make a significant guess on the effects they will have for us as a race of cultures, it is quite likely that the destruction of our climate will force our nations into returning to a peaceful time period very soon.  Although the spiritual sides of most humans may become less influential on their daily life, I do think that there is probably no coincidence as effective as the Divine Art of "Infinite" Time, to replace and recycle the actions and reactions of united species, as the invention of modern economy.

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Walking (poem)

"Walking Days"

walking all the way down a writer's block, trotting blindly past windows.  perhaps once skipping the cleansing rinse, all still while whistling the tune to someone else's viewpoint, pizza corner talks.
he paddles that heat on summers in city's slicked pavement rushes, through acknowledged shadow traffic.  bending the words that wrote final destiny with the blend of the music of celestial churches.
talking out loud to an anonymous ghost, shaking in his hands, in his naivety also born intuit.  headed straight into it, conspicuity, immunity through the dark shaded doors, morbid menace between nights off work, again shifted to slide through these cages' cavernous tunnel systems.  lost lines, paid never again.  patches of truth behind eyes lies our connects in a network of burning field fires, unidentifed corpse crop circles.  falling objects, failing subjects, thrown in garbage.  feel tight, over the smaller, blowing out old candles lit, and let the lights of little wildflowers raise the schools in the gutters for the poor stolen poverty wars on our perpetual peripheral thievery.  conniving concise bravery amidst the inevitable brevity in our worship of the beast's offering of fierce fears.  this lord of the flies, he's not known to be mysterious.  run across dumpster fiends.  their children, the child.  they are, then.
don't act like you've never been scared, or you'll sure die to dare.  i fucking swear in the beaten air.
concrete walls, and not those cliffs on sunny fantasy castle barriers, ships building the factories of frozen future graves.  we were drowning, while laughing, but dying, while writing.  oh well.
temporal hell permanent ghetto of the mind.  the bubbled skin from burnt belief.  peace's relief.  buried in eternal sleep, the threat of age and the imminent prophecy awaits, it beckons, quell culls.
so, they say walking forward streets is alright.  taking each step easy is always good for the soul.
forever let the spirit never miss a thing.  somebody out there is usually always right, alright.
but if you ask me, birds and butterflies, the sky through waving leaves or the golden blood of moon glowing shining through the bluest gusts of autumn, winking stars.  friends let friends kill the time.
they paid the rent, too, the taxes, they go to work for that big man.  servants to a faith down the road.



by Twyll The ChyllTyrant (2015)


"The Night Walking"

tonight is every changing
screaming cry within my dried eyes
disguised more as mere metaphors
potential paradises
devoted instincts jealous men
haunted on long walking courses
motivated work slights of hands
pounding on the ground forth forces
bounce imperfect repetition
phantom interception frequents
ghosts never possessed possessions
forever fleeing to safeties
memorized yet forgotten lives
latenight thoughts make dark desires
struggle to settle traditions
newer contradicted fires
propel wanton profanities
mundane scraps boasted other arts
down glowing lower empty streets
hard choking or coughing in hearts
exist the same as me in fogs
imagine with no temptations
fortune out gold nor second tries
journey alone although always
home begins beckoning the lost
return pledging leaving tortures
broken promise painful blessings
neverending outside corners
mistaken complex attractions
says restated obvious words
planning planets never by us
give up on yourself next time first




by Twyll The ChyllTyrant (2011)

Wednesday, November 04, 2015

Texting-Bluetooth Zone (short story / joke)

I was standing there, texting someone, when I saw a lady walking up, waving, saying "Hello!" and at first I thought that she was on a bluetooth, because my immediate reaction was that she couldn't be addressing me, because I don't talk like that at all, and it would have been completely out of character for me.  So I turned around to see if anyone was behind me, and there was another lady, who began breast feeding the first one.  That's when I remembered that I was in an adult bookstore, so then I started trotting right towards the door, and licked her asshole.  I sometimes have to leave my comfort zone now and again.  It's like outside; if you never go outside, if you never laugh, and suffer, you die.

Friday, October 09, 2015

The Legend of VADERFANG

Vaderfang & Bladerbang are a part of The Crooked Dead Man Saga, as well.  They are beast kings that are eventually released out of the other dimension, a second time.  After the fall of OVERLORD TYRANT & Crooked Dead Man/ The Omega Devil, Vaderfang & Bladerbang, the Chief Warlords of the Other Dimension, and two kings of the army of beasts in the first attack, are released at the North Pole at the exact moment of the Antarctica battle that destroys both OVERLORD TYRANT & Dead Man.  POWERBOY, once more, must use his infinite power source to battle the monsters to death.  The beasts in the first saga are cat -like.  Vaderfang & Bladerbang are both wolf and bear -like.  The final showdowns are through Russia, and Italy.

The Legend of OVERLORD TYRANT

Overlord Tyrant is the demon sent from hell to reclaim the soul of Crooked Dead Man.  He has the powers of flight and invincibility, as well as super strength and super speed.  Part of his gimmick is that he can only communicate to humans through blood writing, which he can spray off of himself because he is a skeleton-and-muscle demonic humanoid.  However, his weakness is his Contract, in which he must destroy humankind by concentrating on all offensive efforts against him, even if it would allow his own death, specifically by Crooked Dead Man who has the unfortunately newly discovered ability of invisibility, only from the demon-vision of Overlord Tyrant.  However, because of his war with Illuminati, and eventually his death and reincarnation as Devil Omega, his former self is mostly remnant cyborg parts that can still be seen by Overlord Tyrant.  Abandoning these parts, he is again in a pile of zombie blood and guts on the ground.  However, by working with an undercover ex-Volyoom Team member now working out of the middle east for a citizen-resistance cult, called G.O.D. "Global Offense Defensive" codenamed "Wali Wigz", he is able to hack old cyborg parts and attempt to retake the world from Overlord Tyrant, who conquers mostly by destroying all police and military, leaving civilians alone, aside from the accidental casualty.  Wali Wigz rebuilds pieces of Crooked Dead Man and adds enough of the Omega Devil strain to the remnants to resurrect Crooked Dead Man once more.  Overlord Tyrant and Crooked Dead Man meet, finally, on Antarctica, and destroy each other, ultimately ending the "Crooked Dead Man vs. Overlord Tyrant" Saga.

http://twyllthechylltyrant.blogspot.com/2014/05/the-legend-of-crooked-dead-man.html

Saturday, October 03, 2015

Hip Hop Dedication Verse

Suppy, big brother, yo, what's the deal?
I hope you're doing aiight
I'm just doin' my thing, living day to day life
You taught me the whole game, now we play alike
You taught me how to win, shoot guns, movin' wind
A lot of shit still going on, sets is holding on
My heart is ripped off so I keep your name at rep
Sittin' there, sippin' Hen, just smokin' on em sens
My album is finished in, four, fifth, forfeiting it
Tryin to get my mind right
Get my life back on the right track
Walkin' in streets dressed in all black, sockin' sacks
We see our own death coming, and it's no turning back
Long as I see this way, thing's ill will be turning up
The world told me “Slow down, Chyll," but Tyrant's good
I get on my mic and rock, like someday you'll talk back
Where we're speakin' of God, when facing hard frustrations
And in solid dedication, help form up the Rap Foundation
Thank You Hip Hop

-lil cease & Tyrant

Sunday, September 27, 2015

Three Guidelines of Life

Make the community happy.
Stay away from other people.
Let yourself enjoy the world.

Pets, Kindred Spirituality

In the past two years I have adopted two stray cats, and helped taken care of my old standard poodle.  Late this summer, turning autumn, and into the early parts of the fall, I have found a self-reflection.
Between the clinging skin steaming sweat to our body, in which the blood pumps the warmth of love, and in the entire global circulation of winds across the plains of earth, to night's watching eyes, skies dotted bright through the darkness, and segued against the residual static between the suns of the living solar systems there is a kind of effect on the human mind of natural concurrence, imperfect longing to belong in a universe that was built to reject us.  Partially responsible for our faith in these religions of mankind, and then as well for the artistic regression from creativity and self- expression of social anxiety as a young boy, into the illusions of memories lost in older ages.  The basis of numbers as a factual informative unit as to the telling of our experiences, strengths and weakness, and eventually the outcome of our perpetual survivalist's tragedy in midst of the ever flowing ebb doing of the same wax and wane as our moon's muse's to the seas mighty fallen grave.  The eventual density integrated by us, in time lines of history, mere instinctive hereditary tradition, or divine intervention for purpose of the betterment of our culture and humanity?  Or yet still, is it all for the commune to a higher sense, and are we all only teachers of manifest destiny to but future civilization?
Late in the summer, between the solstice and equinox, the loss of sensory in detail, and correspondent retention of material gains through the year's hustle and grind.  These all still founded by the genetic code that was inherited through a hostile and forgone environment of the past.  Harrowing the heroes of our modern current of time travel, the independent sentient being that forages through life only to find the needlessly endless supply of infinite nurturing, closes behind gate after gate, as garden after garden, restrict the prohibited immortality that a human mind would intuitively seek if given its now eliminated Eden.
Though through tough thick and thin, easy and strained, we strive for a niche and placement in the schemata of the divine plan, and we sometimes may seek the companionship of another life to help us achieve real reason to return to the simplicity that is a necessity of life, the dependence of belonging. There is a divine and omnipotent reason for every step that we make, the revolution of time, and in entries that we each individually make into karmic reality's time line, the reflection manifold is sought so that we can establish, each day with the rise and fall of the stars on the horizon, the same foundation that was told in the Old Testament, God said "Let There Be Light."
My pets, the people who have value to me as friends, and my society and community, all are pivotal to my enjoyment of the world.  The nice things in life, I share with others at leisure, so that energy may be rejuvenated during times of stress.  Even if it is only an animal, my pet, my friend, myself, I know that this will carry with it the amount of my purpose that God intended, to carry in Him.

Friday, September 18, 2015

Tyrant Time itunes download Review

After the retirement of Twyll The ChyllTyrant, the remixes that continue to make his lyrical expertise memorable, vary in degree of artistic value, and although this may be considered one of the more important feats of the Tyrant discography, it's action to close the chapter of writing that was the Tyrant in UnderGround rap, in Time, is the embodiment of a perfectly flawed characteristic to which the rhyming poetry of the multi-talented ChyllTyrant, is inherently strengthened through the creative expression of wordplay as his glass window, through which we see the artist through the perspective of anti-hero.  A glimpse into the inner workings of a mind within the streets.  Like the car ride you might apprehensively take around the way, the music is guidepost to the enterprise of The Crooked Empire C.R.E.M. & Association.  Assn.

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

DJ ChyllTyrant

At the end of time where natural light diminishes due through powerful pulsations whose causation was creation of id.  Ego’s heartbeat of the positive atomic energy, against mentality of negative spectrum.  Neutrality is the guiding code for fate and fantastic leaps of faith.  This suspension of disbelief, as if written by a swift hand, improvisation in boredom’s lonely culling back to the earth whence we come.  Dreams interwoven through subconscious and unconscious in unison and seamless interpolation, in divine instruction, instinct and intuition.  Good and bad are mere constructs contracted by populations of humans known as civilization, used to integrate a heavily embedded belief system into ethical effect.  One cannot walk through life unhanded or as benign to his own existence, lest he become starved or ill.  These are the effects of civilization, of a system of true and righteous cultural beliefs that extend to empower the mass, serve and protect the people, and never to control the minds of it’s public, to only allow the individual’s demand be heard as it heads into physical battle against death of populations, being becomes non, as positivity would be drained and negativity through past time’s perception of reflective nature inherent in itself through which the endless sleep commences in eternity.  The heaven that is above is a waiting period, the return through the cypher, as one, through the whole of existence in retrospective entirety, fulfillment of the divinity of God, and hell is the afterlife’s infinite potentials, combined with every other living entity on dimensional universal biologic and botanic essence, whose main mission in the world’s escapade through destiny, is to relive the same life, reincarnated, forever.

Friday, June 19, 2015

Grim Reaper (poem)

death the skeleton
of the old man guides us
inter-universal time space.
the river of negative resonate
the pool of self-denial.
inner peace at the temple shrine
you are the ass.
god.
you are the shit.

Saturday, May 09, 2015

The Rhythm of Life & LIFE Lyrics

It’s not as hard as it looks, some guitar hooks, getting her hooked, maam pardon the fucks. I give the rhythm something it’s missing when I barred it up, I guess I’d let out the fresh sounds off the top of my heart. Last days Lampshade shadows through the switching lights. Fixing them nice, yep I’m rich with the pipe. Get right. Or I might shift like a slide. Don’t hit your head on the hard cover of bucks. Parking lot garbage truck I’m parking a lot. Garages on barrage, when wetlanded the blocks were a swamp. You could say it sort of flooded when the darkness poured out da cups. But I think it’s just the lost wishes that never saw love. Because as hard as I look, it’s just a star on the dusk. Then I think it didn’t dawn in you still, you do the wrong thing and keep it on until, If you thinking what I’m thinking, chill, that’s why we only live once, father to son is why I’m giving it up. homies good. artists such as us are guardians into the garden of life. Water in hand, starting it up, I throw splashes out the air crafts. Blowing on that astro. Growing out my afro. I’m higher than the arch on the lamp posts, swinging wires like some kicks and some spare tires tracks, hitting kids with their crack, crooked is a conglomerate, now onto the facts, note wax, poetics drip out my throat when I spit liquid rhythms in raps, reflected it black from refracted fragments that lasers race fast and catch, laced with the cash on my face. and the soft in the safe is midnight made.

https://play.google.com/store/music/album/Twyll_the_ChyllTyrant_The_Rhythm_Of_Life_Single?id=By62tpy33burvkwuwib4do5uxfq  

that’s what you lack, that’s laughable that’s what you lack, that’s laughable that’s what you lack, that’s laughable really doe, your only friend that’s what you lack, that’s laughable creative spark snap on battle hill cannonball smack smack on the villain twyll army camo maps and backpack skills it’s the soldier field, where we hold and steal steal hold stronghold, and open seals really doe, it’s posed as long and stolen real I’m not sposed to belong, not golden deal My rappin tone is capitone is baritone is all in one channel o satchmo saxophone really doe, why you gotta teelee phone why you gotta be alone, you gotta really know really doe, it’s the really o.d. in a o.c. cali strap, o.g., go alley cat o.z. aiight really doe, it’s the really o.p.m. old poetry master your only friend laughable that’s what you lack that’s natural but lackin that nations station is the battle hill that’s natural that’s what you lack that’s natural but lackin that nations stations is the battle twyll that’s natural astral celestial that’s natural natural that’s natural natural that’s natural gotta know who you actin ill, that’s natural my passion is that of lingerie candles animals tender gentle sexual that’s the love handle swag so natural it’s ritual for the virgin to get window silled and that first impressions are minnows still in a distant condition… they move thru to the water’s edge suspicion of da voodoo buku, now I’m the envy of the princess so my second memory is a vision and endless extremity of the human sinner hymen skin thin for a first born dinner humid summer simmer, the daylight dimmer the redness of the sunburn conveys a picture of lover’s of the work unpaid, the Sunday that someday, one way or another me and my brother, live off the garden guarded by the cherubs of mother’s misfortune or another, night underlying quiet stars and while outside the violence riots war I remastermind the tyrant’s czar And combine leviathan poseidon and abbadon Azazel in the fallen star… Callin the gardens rotten scar But it’s only natural It’s only natural Aiight Ok Aiight Ok I miss u livin free for the ocean, return with the tide Ride free life helter skelter slide My omen, amen, amendment so omenous prayers and nursery rhymes aren’t aknowledged even I’m out of college, I’m in the streets now Into a broken promise and slated repeat now I’m out the mountains, into the deep now People seem to think that what maintains is sleep now I’m rapid and active the passion of wave crashes Collapsin avalanches and blazin the ashes Rain in the chasm, blood stain mattresses Brainspasm the anti-matter and antecedent Accidentally impregnate imagination Off artificial insemination thru reverberation In light seminal compression on the animate Primitive levels of elevation to the element For the kids thinking that water exists are slighted By the enigmatic zero within the hydrogen fire Confined by the limited sphere of air That’s encircled in the fear of the spirits ubiquity Where, the rarities and antiquities are uniquely Tears of charity’s and liberties of responsibility Freedom of choice, thereafter reason for noise Freedom of choice, your voice… Freedom of the water, the chaos of movement Freedom of the water the chaos of movement The music The freedom the music The freedom the music The music The water Do it It’s my mission statement that’s physical bangin Criminals and murder mischief, intrinsic language This is the vision and the fishin is anglin Angels collide visages of the finish’s vicious changeling Ripples aftereffects as well as energetics Electric current within the verbal semantics An array of vocabulary composed fairly simplistic Symphonic arrangement of continual ballistics Statics say that satirists are jus statistics of physics Holistic nonsense for the mentally molested Have the kid arrested, I’ll ressurrect the dead Well connected like necks chests and heads the only medal you got comes wit a ribbon I’ll pop ya wit the eagle into another dimension yes it is metathiz yes it is metathiz get it back yes it is metathiz quick to dead a kid presidential status quick to election pick veteran sick, ghostly superstitions disconnected static to the electrician this forcefed genre of horsceck culture orchid ghanja for ultra horrific sepultures honor the face of the promise land on the grace of the honest man, hot god damn i'm the kid that said it first bred to thirst so my gesture as the jester is head first bled for words, worse, i'm dead for verse dead on birth rest dirt resin the earth and I’ll press up hard if your daughter’s white burn her chest wit carbs and water pipes yes it is yes it is metathiz get it back

https://play.google.com/store/music/album/Twyll_The_Chylltyrant_Life_Single?id=Btynqeltyd2xcmerzxwmzwzrcb4



PEACE

nightmares with zombies, vampires, or monsters.


monsters can only smell you, and you will be able to defeat most of them before their minions/possessed humans come ambush you and the survivors.
zombies can only see you, and you will be fucked.
vampires can only hear you, and you will be able to find somewhere to hide with the survivors, for quite a while, until one of your companions slips up and makes noise.

monsters get theme music, imported from your daily real life.
zombies get dream-morphing abilities.
vampires get horrific both auditory and visual special effects.


ghosts are usually people you know in real life who have died.

Friday, May 01, 2015

CAPTION FOR THE NIGHT (the best poem ever written)

beers boomers and blunts
bass bumpin in the basement
what you know bout that (boy's on fire oooooooo)

I live 6 feet under the ground
And smoke til I'm chokin
i got double the trouble
you're a fucking bitch
you want to spit with me I'll have you in a box six feet under the ground(BIG TIME)


COPYRIGHTS 2005 Twyll The ChyllTyrant

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Anti-Theism Beliefs

consider 
yourself as the number one person whose eyes which we see through. alpha omega, death as polar opposite from conscious life, lead by our inner conscience. environment one, versus the infinite potential polarity, planet z. this is the planet to which also i describe as our best as well as our worst possibility in inevitability. zombie planet. i have come to my own personal qualm with this zombie invincibility of a 100% saturation of planet earth into demonic reality in conceptualized imagery only imaginable by the human mind for it's supreme sentient mentality as self-absorbed heroic ego. the less living portion of the mind, to which is adhered zombie potential, is the non-transaction reaction to personification of soul. although the spirit may be weakened, therefore, humans survive through the success of independent nature in righteous command of the universal constant which is god. that is why pain is trivial, death is infinite, and life is merely our reflection in genetic divine artistic time usage in the proverbial celestial omnipotent condition of self against the comparative narrative that is our singular lives. reincarnation through to zombie life must be recognizable, thus, and i have attributed such anxiety of intervention from divinity. this is the ability of a life-nurturing body of elements to feel itself. instinct, and intuition, working cooperatively to progress evolution and achieve a natural peace and balance to the relationship between what is symbolically the trinity or trilogy of sensory time, space, and potential extinction...
this is essentially the essence of my theory of anti-theism.

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Me (poem)

It was a long wait...
Like all are at this intersection

i was under the influence of your emotions.


i sat in silence, watching rain fall.
you looked sad, but determined.
 
through endless thoughts
like unwinding kitestrings
of indecent places, with unfriendly faces, i prevailed on tour.
it couldn’t be further from truth, i don’t regret leaving.  only coming back ever again.


It's The Love
so don't blame it on fate, when our passion is always raging.
that our blood mixes, our stories would prove.

My arms are reaching for you and i can't see you in watches never worn.
millenia maybe again.
frightened and abandoned.

Here, where family is no longer familiar,
where fame is a feeble replacement. 
on a road
that twists to the very place we met.
i wouldn't look at the street at all,
but i'd run across the highway.
looking on to a sunnier side of the tracks where we'd be happier. 
instead, we've reached a checkpoint, and it was where our car stopped and we did not.


Unsafe.
&
 
the other rules that we broke were too long for these rotten epitaphs. 
too short of a battle was given up on!
You told me that the empty pillow ate at your conscience. 
i can see why, even when i am asleep.  eyes closed,
i realize dream after dream of our embrace. 
first and final.

Remember…
"c'mon girl, gimme a hug.  u know we both need one."
we need one:  us.  and a hug is just a symbol, simple, simile, smile,
because i like you, and that's a sign.
i thought of you when i made all the mistakes i did make.
Will she still love me?
is the only thought that crossed my mind.
in recent years i've solved algebra that would make einstein shrink.
but it is right in front of us. 
the answer is before the question.  what are you looking for?

i know what to hold faith in, though.  it is the eternity that i would wait to see you.
but while eternity seemed like a promise, it was only a sequence of events.  unfolding like packed clothes.

i can't believe it.  but i need it.
i can feel it in my bones that were made strong,
but they were made, nonetheless.
and the powdered hand of my sculptor.
and the steadied eye of your painter.
to watch each other only at distance was never intended, yet we pretended,
and yet now we do not.

So we will wayside falter, my brave eyed lover.
So we will wayside falter, my brown eyed mother.

Then, by the canal will be a chosen path.  leading to where i can always call home.
and our adventures will continue.  Lord knows.
only a spark missing, where so many are bountiful.


You are beautiful in every sense of the word.
and too many sent to the world miss you, gone.  i swear to god.
i am lieing awake tonight, however late.  and i miss you too.  and these worries are real.

As we turn the next corner, my starvation is sincerest.
but that's why i'm always searching for the right things in all the bright lights.
both to say, and to not.



Someone is keeping count of the infinite time that you sacrifice. 

i am.

1ST Album Review

awesome Pure Hip Hop. UnderGround from the heart, Independent in every single way. The Crooked Empire & Association also known as Twyll th` ChyllTyrant is the modern equivalent of Julius Caesar, or Plato, Shakespeare, or 2pac. Good job. Electronica and Rap, meshed seamlessly, uniquely, and with lyrical expertise. https://play.google.com/store/music/album?id=Blp2irchmguiw46gtnmv5vnlhza

The Best Joke Ever Written

i was working on new material and was thinking back on how when i was sick i saw the doctor and he said that a lot of scientists are saying that you have to take care and pay attention to your face, because it's all intertwined and related inside, it's literally all connected, and science has told us this because we know it's your head.

Tuesday, April 07, 2015

The Arc Of Civilization

the guy was raised in the jungle by wolves, gets rescued in his teenage years and comes to america where he goes to a museum with his adopted family. he sees a giant wooly mammoth skeletal reformation on display, replete with ice age - petrified fur and giant tusks, and it's eye sockets empty like sad, longing, and lonely prayer. he runs to the giant relic of the past, hops the fence, and goes to hug this modern artifact worth a value incalculable by anyone, alive. the monster only first shrugs, in warmth to it's reception, then shakes, and crumbles, destroyed to the floor. this guy, savage in society, is forced to mop the floor, sweep, and do volunteer work, for vandalism. is this fair, even though he has never earned a dollar on the books in his entire life, to force him to pay this way for the ruin of civilization's narcissism? are america's teachers our mentors? or are they mere curriculum figureheads, pointing towards books that they expect we read, before?

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Black & White Memory (poem)



Although true love may come from just one pair
Be not afraid in times of lonely unseen pain of focus
As useless to survive as the soulless
Only the burned in burden we bear as time slides and slips
Forever open…

Appreciate
_plant life
For more
_magical things
may come of it...

In days drawn lead with grass tips green with fresh
How our oft forgot are forth in coming around so frozen
Even in our own friends’ once earthly deaths
Of forgone memory comes the crying and for their despair’s
Eternal oding…

Monday, December 29, 2014

Man & Woman

Man & Woman




The main differences between the male and female genders in our civilized society are their approaches to communication.

In the male society, men are prone to outdo each other in debates and arguments simply by getting louder.  If a more dramatic and exaggerated debate is made, the victor is usually the one with the more loud voice.  Whether it is through leadership where “the masses’ voice is heard,” or with a megaphone, generally we say that the man with the stronger voice will win any debate.
ie.  You can’t win a debate that you can’t hear even yourself make.
In the female society, women rely more on physical attributes which coincide more directly with internal processes such as thought and intuition.  The more beautiful woman may not be the victor, but certainly has the “leg up” so to speak, as long as her thoughts and actions coincide fluently.
ie.  You can’t be a spokesperson if you are not viewer-friendly.

The alpha female processes the males’ debates for who vies for her special attention by simply drowning out the smaller voiced and “less mattering opinions” of the weaker male.  The alpha male, in turn, drowns out the daily view of life as a hardship in turn for what he considers beauty or what is beautified by progressive actions towards him.

In conclusion, if we are to make progress, we must learn more importantly that the smaller voiced opinion is in actuality the more valuable due to its need for significant and immediate change, as well as learn to distinguish beauty from useful ability.


Thank you for your time.