Gino - Marseille Rap 2008

Artist: Gino
Album name: Marseille Rap 2008

Tracks :

1. Dans Larene

Download Gino - Marseille Rap 2008 mp3

do you like the poem, or the short story better?

poem:

Anatomy of Truth by William Shakespeare

The soft night air
Fills my lungs
With dire
Inspiration
Desperation
A thousand
Aspirations.
The glass
On the dresser
Shaped like
An obelisk.
Filling with
The soft
Music
Of weeping.
Sobbing
Retching.
Glissando
Grazioso
The notes
Beat against
Each
Other
In a singular
Reverberating
Elegy.
These widows
Of composers
Long forgotten
Sit at my table
Lie in my bed
Rip at the tendons
In my head.

I am god.
I see a million
Deaths
Loves
Births
Murders
Epiphanies.
I create them.
I live them.
I am them.
Cleopatra twists
Like an asp
Ready to strike
Upon her chest.
My mistresses.
Juliet leaks
Tears of blood.
Pining for her
Lost love.
That she
Doesn’t
Even
Remember
Anymore.
There
Is
Only
Me.
Me to comfort.
The only solace
In the hell
I created.
Mad?
You could say that
I prefer
Misunderstood.
God knows
I created it.

Take my hand.
Will you join
Me?
I’ve already written
Your
Story.
A masterpiece
Never created.
The world
Has never
Seen.
It’s called
‘William’s Obsession’
And you’re starring.
The staccato
In this
Mad
Legato world.
Trust in the
Red
That drips
From your
Fingertips.
Let your soul
Dissolve
In the power
Of another’s
Death.

Don’t doubt
Your
Mind.
Lose all
Independence.
For you are
Safe.
In the parchment
Of my head.

Sick.
Twisted.
The gnarled branches
Of my mind.
Mistaken for
Incomprehensible
Genius.
They think
They don’t
Understand.
But they could
So
Easily
Brand me
A
Rapist
Womanizer
Murderer.
And not
Be
Mistaken.
Instead,
They continue
To praise me.
Praise me
For my
Debauchery
Depravity
Shameless
Scandals.

I do
Things.
That any
Hell
Would turn
Me
Away
In
Disgust
For.

Thank you,
O world.
For you have given
This
Angel
Wings to
Fly.

the short story (based on a painting called fear of fear):

‘Fear of Fear’(a painting by the artist Gino)
Her stark white reflection gazed back at her as if to say, “At least I’m not you.” Her face was pale and unhealthy and a series of broken up words of art and poetry flitted lazily around her…taunting her with their stories of false laughter, false love, false life. Stories ripped apart by huge black holes. Sucking everything in. Leaving only dark expanse. Causing confusion. Suffocation. No loss. No gain. Nothing. Her gaudy plastic dress was crushing her, tightening its hold on her, as her breathing become choking. She reeked of cigarette smoke, her eyes watering. Filling with small oceans of empty ignominy. Circumstance had made her heart as cold as the mirror that smiled serenely at her. She started to retch violently and dark specks of blood flecked her skin. A dark growl issued from somewhere deep within her. She bared her yellowing teeth. Rasping snarls tore at her throat and bounced of the walls. The echoes pounded through her head and her reflection filled with mirth. A hysterical laugh filled the room, but did not reach her burning eyes. Fury beat against her chest as she watched her reflection scream with senseless laughter. She could hear her heartbeat hacking at the tendons in her head. The hard stone walls started to melt before her fiery eyes, as if they were made of nothing more than butter. The liquid gushed towards her feet and filled the room with a sour, rotting air. Bile rushed towards her throat and lit her insides on fire. She needed release. Her eyebrows rose up and her forehead wrinkled. Her breathing was becoming more and more irregular, as she pressed herself against the wall. Tears escaped her clutches, and she started to sob in terror and bewilderment. She dragged her tattered, rotting nails across her chest, inevitably opening up wounds that had long since been forgotten. The dark red mixed with the grey that was eating at her bones. She picked up her bloody clawed hand and glared at it with pure disgust. The mass sucked at her throat and her breathing was laboured and piercing. Red now flowed out of her mouth, and stained her long, sharp frame. Her curly, dark eyelashes sliced through her soft irises, making them drip with stark white. The liquid rose above her head and filled her nostrils with bitter pain and resentment. She felt her knees give way and she bowed her head.
...she embraced herself once, fleetingly, before she embraced the icy fingers of death.

tell me which, and if you wanna give me pointers, that would be cool to!