4 North (hip hop) coming to myspace soon....
Verse 1:
Back from the 4th, level of St. Mary's on the north
Living with this victim of her self inflicted scorn
Self inflicted sores, blood stains on her pores
Track marks down her arms like a drug addicted whore
Bloodshot, doors locked, pills popped
The medication kills the pain and leaves her higher than a hilltop
Still raw, she's still hot, she drops it like (gunshot) beat drops) hyperventilating)
Doctors pumpin on her chest, I think the beat stopped (beat commences)
Back on, and off again
Throwing caution to the wind, like her life's pretend
That mean boy says she's just a friend
I ask, why do you want your life to end?
Chorus:
If I wanna die, it's my life to leave
You'd understand if you were high, high, high
(But I'm not, but I know how you feel)
My chest is getting tight, it's so hard to breathe
I pop a pill and close my eyes, eyes, eyes
(I understand that this feeling is real)
Verse 2:
Wait, wait, wait, don't leave, leave, leave
Put the razor down, just breathe, breathe, breathe
Dumpin pills down your throat because you're sick, sick, sick
You can tell that nurse to suck my dick, dick, dick
You can feel it when the shit kicks in
The pain goes away when it's under her skin
But after the high, she'll be crying again
So they strap her to the bed, here comes the syringe
She's dead to the world, as she's fed to the drugs
Instead of a pearl, she's like a rock, in the mud
She's a diamond in the rough, but her shine's been dulled
Her minds been altered, and her cards been pulled
And the xanax, ativan, clonopin, prozac
Opened up the gate and paved the way for crack
And she's a maniac, when she's sedated, back
Into the realm of overwhelmed by a panic attack
Verse 3 coming soon.
Author notes
A song about a girl I met in 4 North, very suicidal, very fucked up, very, very, very, very.
I wasted 4 years of my life with this shit, and as far as I know, that girl's not any better. Last time I saw her, she had stabbed her wrist with a pencil and pulled down during group therapy, that left a lasting image for sure.
My main message in this song is that medication isn't always the answer. I haven't had a panic attack in over a year, about the same time I got off all of the drugs that these pretend doctors were passing out like candy to basically extinguish a persons soul at the same time as their mental disability.
Most psych's are 3rd generation doctors, who were pampered, and wouldn't know a thing about what most of their patients are going through, but they have a fucking degree that their daddy's bought, so they nod their head, thinking about golf, and say, try this medication, it will passify you for a few months, until you lose your job, car, and significant other again, due to the never ending cycle of bs that is attributed to these fucking drugs.
Fuck 4 North, is basically what I'm saying, peace, Crackertl82
Comments
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It seems that the last few comments have covered everything I was considering saying in terms of your form and word choice. I have in fact, however, lisened to a considerable amount of Hip-hop though and still agree.
As for the meaning, I must agree fully. While I have never met anyone like the girl in this poem/lyrics I have had considerable experance with stiff necked, know-it-all, degree waving, knock-off psychologists in the last four or five years. I'd dumped hundreds of dollars worth of pills down the toilet, thrown full pill bottles in the trash, and flat out refused to take them. Been treated for anxiety with pills that made me more suicidal, treated for suicidal tendencies with pills that made me more anxious. Gone from only slightly slightly depresses to feeling like shit because of ten minutes talking to a 'theripist'... the whole system is extrememly flawed in and of iteself.
I love the meaning in this and hope you and that girl are both much better off now than then.
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I never listen to hip-hop. But your verses are full of fright. To know there are people like you describe here is sad indeed. I see nothing to change. Perhaps if you could smooth the tempo of the poem all wpuld work out better. If there was indeed a girl like you mention in this work of yours, that is very sad and frighting, I have known one or two "space cadets" in my day, but none like you have mentioned. Good luck in your work> Papagallo
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Like Kayle, hip hop isn't my genre. But...the work that needs to be done here is to even out the tempo. Keep the beat hard and hit the important words hardest. To achieve that, cut the filler words - the, and, of - unless they are needed for meaning.
"Bloodshot, doors locked, pills popped
Medication kills the pain, leaves her higher than a hilltop"
maintains your beat better, though I would look for a different word than hilltop.
In lines 9 and 10 I am assuming some of that is instruction - very confusing for the reader.
Your work is best when the beat drives me through the poem. Keeping the tempo regular enhances that.
I hope your story gets through to many people strung out by doctors. Good luck to you. Buff
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It says that "this user spent hard earned points to get you to see their poem" so I feel compelled to comment. I don't now what to say except that this isn't my art form and I rarely listen to hip-hop. I happened on this poem by chance and so it is by chance that you are getting my feedback.
That said, I like the first stanza . . . and the second stanza of Verse two and the last stanza.
I really like this line:
"And the xanax, ativan, clonopin, prozac
Opened up the gate and paved the way for crack"
and:
"She's dead to the world, as she's fed to the drugs"
(I like that she isn't being fed the drugs but she is being fed to them , like they are a pack of dogs or loins in the coliseum)
If I was to suggest areas for possible improvement it would be line 4 of Verse 2 . . . in part because I can't buy into the idea that the second person in the poem (the non-suicidal one) would be violent.
Also, I would suggest revising line 7-8 of Verse 2 . . . 'syringe' and 'again' simply don't rhyme, I normally might not make a big deal of it but you placed heavy emphases on rhyming elsewhere . . . I suggest keeping syringe because it is the more dynamic of the two .. . play around with rhymes, there aren't many options but those you have fit this poem. (Options for rhyming: binge, cringe, fringe, hinge, or twinge).
Anyway, your millage may vary.
Hope, you think you got you money's worth from my comment.
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