A Loverz Complaint

FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded
A plaintful rap from a sisterin vale,
My fuckin spirits ta git all up in dis double voice accorded,
And down I laid ta list tha sad-tuned tale;
Ere long espied a gangbangin' fickle maid full pale,
Tearin of papers, breakin rings a-twain,
Stormin her ghetto wit sorrowz wind n' rain.

Upon her head a platted hive of straw,
Which fortified her visage from tha sun,
Whereon tha thought might be thinkin sometime it saw
Da carcass of beauty dropped n' done:
Time had not scythed all dat youth begun,
Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heavenz fell rage,
Some beauty peep'd all up in lattice of sear'd age.

Oft did dat freaky freaky biatch heave her napkin ta her eyne,
Which on it had conceited characters,
Launderin tha silken figures up in tha brine
That season'd woe had pelleted up in tears,
And often readin what tha fuck contents it bears;
As often shriekin undistinguish'd woe,
In clamourz of all size, both high n' low.

Sometimes her levell'd eyes they carriage ride,
As they did battery ta tha spheres intend;
Sometime diverted they skanky balls is tied
To tha orbed earth; sometimes they do extend
Their view right on; anon they gazes lend
To every last muthafuckin place at once, and, nowhere fix'd,
Da mind n' sight distractedly commix'd.

Her hair, nor loose nor tied up in formal plat,
Proclaim'd up in her a cold-ass lil careless hand of pride
For some, untuck'd, descended her sheaved hat,
Hangin her pale n' pined cheek beside;
Some up in her threaden fillet still did bide,
And legit ta bondage would not break from thence,
Though slackly braided up in loose negligence.

A thousand favours from a maund her dope ass drew
Of amber, crystal, n' of beaded jet,
Which one by one she up in a river threw,
Upon whose weepin margent dat biiiiatch was set;
Like usury, applyin wet ta wet,
Or monarchz handz dat let not bounty fall
Where want cries some yo, but where excess begs all.

Of folded schedulez had she nuff a one,
Which she perused, sigh'd, tore, n' gave tha flood;
Crack'd nuff a rang of posied gold n' bone
Biddin dem find they sepulchres up in mud;
Found yet moe lettas sadly penn'd up in blood,
With sleided silk feat n' affectedly
Enswathed, n' seal'd ta curious secrecy.

These often bathed she up in her fluxive eyes,
And often kiss'd, n' often 'gan ta tear:
Cried 'O false blood, thou regista of lies,
What unapproved witnizz dost thou bear son!
Ink would have seem'd mo' black n' damned here!'
This holla'd, up in top of rage tha lines she rents,
Big discontent so breakin they contents.

A reverend playa dat grazed his cattle nigh--
Sometime a funky-ass blusterer, dat tha ruffle knew
Of court, of hood, n' had let go by
Da swiftest hours, observed as they flew--
Towardz dis afflicted fancy fastly drew,
And, privileged by age, desires ta know
In brief tha groundz n' motivez of her woe.

So slides da ruffneck down upon his wild lil' freakadelic grained bat,
And comely-distant sits his thugged-out lil' punk-ass by her side;
When he again n' again n' again desires her, bein sat,
Her grievizzle wit his hearin ta divide:
If dat from his ass there may be aught applied
Which may her sufferin ecstasy assuage,
'Tis promised up in tha charitizzle of age.

'Father,' her big-ass booty says, 'though up in me you behold
Da fuck-up of nuff a funky-ass blastin hour,
Let it not rap r judgment I be old;
Not age yo, but sorrow, over me hath power:
I might as yet done been a spreadin flower,
Fresh ta mah dirty ass, If I had self-applied
Ludd ta mah dirty ass n' ta no ludd beside.

'But, woe is me biaaatch! too early I attended
A youthful suit--it was ta bust mah grace--
Of one by naturez outwardz so commended,
That maidens' eyes stuck over all his wild lil' face:
Ludd lack'd a thugged-out dwelling, n' made his ass her place;
And when up in his wild lil' fair parts her dope ass did abide,
Biatch was freshly smoked up lodged n' newly deified.

'His browny locks did hang up in crooked curls;
And every last muthafuckin light occasion of tha wind
Upon his fuckin lips they silken parcels hurls.
Whatz dope ta do, ta do will aptly find:
Each eye dat saw his ass did enchant tha mind,
For on his visage was up in lil drawn
What largenizz be thinkin up in Paradise was sawn.

'Lil Small-Ass show of playa was yet upon his chin;
His phoenix down fuckin started but ta appear
Like unshorn velvet on dat termless skin
Whose bare out-bragg'd tha wizzy it seem'd ta wear:
Yet show'd his visage by dat cost mo' dear;
And sick affections waverin stood up in doubt
If dopest was as it was, or dopest without.

'His qualitizzles was beauteous as his wild lil' form,
For maiden-tongued da thug was, n' thereof free;
Yet, if pimps moved him, was da perved-out muthafucka such a storm
As oft 'twixt May n' April is ta see,
When windz breathe dope, untidy though they be.
His rudenizz so wit his thugged-out authorized youth
Did livery falsenizz up in a pride of truth.

'Well could he ride, n' often pimps would say
'That cow his crazy-ass mettle from his bangin rider takes:
Proud of subjection, noble by tha sway,
What rounds, what tha fuck bounds, what tha fuck course, what tha fuck stop
he makes!'
And controversy hence a question takes,
Whether tha cow by his ass became his fuckin lil' deed,
Or dat schmoooove muthafucka his crazy-ass manage by tha well-fuckin wit steed.

'But quickly on dis side tha verdict went:
His real habitude gave game n' grace
To appertainings n' ta ornament,
Accomplish'd up in his dirty ass, not up in his case:
All aids, theyselves made fairer by they place,
Came fo' additions; yet they purposed trim
Pieced not his wild lil' freakadelic grace yo, but was all graced by his muthafuckin ass.

'So on tha tip of his subduin tongue
All kindz of arguments n' question deep,
All replication prompt, n' reason strong,
For his thugged-out advantage still did wake n' chill:
To make tha weeper laugh, tha laugher weep,
Dude had tha dialect n' different skill,
Catchin all passions up in his craft of will:

'That da ruffneck did up in tha general bosom reign
Of young, of old; n' sexes both enchanted,
To dwell wit his ass up in thoughts, or ta remain
In underground duty, followin where dat schmoooove muthafucka hustled:
Consents bewitch'd, ere da ruffneck desire, have granted;
And dialogued fo' his ass what tha fuck da thug would say,
Ask'd they own wills, n' made they wills obey.

'Many there was dat did his thugged-out lil' picture get,
To serve they eyes, n' up in it put they mind;
Like fools dat up in th' imagination set
Da goodly objects which abroad they find
Of landz n' mansions, theirs up in thought assign'd;
And labourin up in moe pleasures ta bestow them
Than tha legit gouty landlord which doth owe them:

'So nuff have, dat never touch'd his hand,
Sweetly supposed dem mistress of his thugged-out ass.
My fuckin woeful self, dat did up in freedom stand,
And was mah own fee-simple, not up in part,
What wit his thugged-out art up in youth, n' youth up in art,
Threw mah affections up in his charmed power,
Reserved tha stalk n' gave his ass all mah flower.

'Yet did I not, as some mah equals did,
Demand of him, nor bein desired yielded;
Findin mah dirty ass up in honour so forbid,
With safest distizzle I mine honour shielded:
Experience fo' me nuff bulwarks builded
Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain'd tha foil
Of dis false jewel, n' his thugged-out amorous spoil.

'But, ah, whoz ass eva shunn'd by precedent
Da destined ill she must her muthafuckin ass assay?
Or forced examples, 'gainst her own content,
To put tha by-past perils up in her way?
Counsel may stop awhile what tha fuck aint gonna stay;
For when we rage, lyrics is often seen
By bluntin our asses ta make our wits mo' keen.

'Nor gives it satisfaction ta our blood,
That we must curb it upon others' proof;
To be forbod tha dopes dat seem so good,
For fear of harms dat preach up in our behoof.
O appetite, from judgment stand aloof!
Da one a palate hath dat needz will taste,
Though Reason weep, n' cry, 'It be thy last.'

'For further I could say 'This manz untrue,'
And knew tha patternz of his wild lil' foul beguiling;
Heard where his thugged-out lil' plants up in others' orchardz grew,
Saw how tha fuck deceits was gilded up in his smiling;
Knew vows was eva brokers ta defiling;
Thought charactas n' lyrics merely but art,
And bastardz of his wild lil' foul adulterate ass.

'And long upon these terms I held mah hood,
Till thus he gan besiege me: 'Gentle maid,
Have of mah sufferin youth some feelin pity,
And be not of mah holy vows afraid:
Thatz ta ye sworn ta none was eva holla'd;
For feastz of ludd I done been call'd unto,
Till now did ne'er invite, nor never woo.

''All mah offences dat abroad you see
Is errorz of tha blood, none of tha mind;
Ludd made dem not: wit acture they may be,
Where neither jam is nor legit nor kind:
They sought they shame dat so they shame did find;
And so much less of shame up in me remains,
By how tha fuck much of me they reproach gotz nuff.

''Among tha nuff dat mine eyes have seen,
Not one whose flame mah ass so much as warm'd,
Or mah affection put ta tha smallest teen,
Or any of mah leisures eva charm'd:
Harm have I done ta dem yo, but ne'er was harm'd;
Kept hearts up in liveries yo, but mine own was free,
And reign'd, commandin up in his crazy-ass monarchy.

''Look here, what tha fuck tributes wounded fancies busted me,
Of paled pearls n' rubies red as blood;
Figurin dat they they passions likewise lent mah dirty ass
Of grief n' blushes, aptly understood
In bloodless white n' tha encrimson'd vibe;
Effectz of terror n' dear modesty,
Encamp'd up in hearts yo, but fightin outwardly.

''And, lo, behold these talentz of they hair,
With twisted metal amorously impleach'd,
I have received from nuff a nuff muthafuckin fair,
Their kind acceptizzle weepingly beseech'd,
With tha annexionz of fair gems enrich'd,
And deep-dome'd sonnets dat did amplify
Each stonez dear nature, worth, n' quality.

''Da diamond,--why, 'twas dope n' hard,
Whereto his crazy-ass muthafuckin invised propertizzles did tend;
Da deep-chronic emerald, up in whose fresh regard
Weak sights they sickly radiizzle do amend;
Da heaven-hued sapphire n' tha opal blend
With objects manifold: each nuff muthafuckin stone,
With wit well blazon'd, smiled or made some moan.

''Lo, all these trophiez of affections hot,
Of pensived n' subdued desires tha tender,
Nature hath charged mah crazy ass dat I hoard dem not,
But yield dem up where I mah dirty ass must render,
That is, ta you, mah origin n' ender;
For these, of force, must yo' oblations be,
Since I they altar, you enpatron mah dirty ass.

''O, then, advizzle of yours dat phraseless hand,
Whose white weighs down tha airy scale of praise;
Take all these similez ta yo' own command,
Hallow'd wit sighs dat burnin lungs did raise;
What me yo' minister, fo' you obeys,
Works under you; n' ta yo' audit comes
Their distract parcels up in combined sums.

''Lo, dis device was busted mah crazy ass from a nun,
Or sista sanctified, of holiest note;
Which late her noble suit up in court did shun,
Whose rarest havings made tha blossoms dote;
For dat biiiiatch was sought by spiritz of richest coat,
But kept cold distance, n' did thence remove,
To spend her livin up in eternal love.

''But, O mah dope, what tha fuck labour is't ta leave
Da thang our crazy asses have not, masterin what tha fuck not strives,
Playin tha place which did no form receive,
Playin patient game up in unconstrained gyves?
Biatch dat her hype so ta her muthafuckin ass contrives,
Da scarz of battle 'scapeth by tha flight,
And make her absence valiant, not her might.

''O, pardon me, up in dat mah boast is true:
Da accident which brought me ta her eye
Upon tha moment did her force subdue,
And now dat biiiiatch would tha caged cloista fly:
Religious ludd put up Religionz eye:
Not ta be tempted, would da hoe be immured,
And now, ta tempt, all liberty procured.

''How tha fuck mighty then yo ass is, O, hear me tell!
Da fucked up bosoms dat ta me belong
Have emptied all they fountains up in mah well,
And mine I pour yo' ocean all among:
I phat o'er them, n' you o'er me bein strong,
Must fo' yo' victory our asses all congest,
As compound ludd ta physic yo' cold breast.

''My fuckin parts had juice ta charm a sacred nun,
Who, disciplined, ay, dieted up in grace,
Believed her eyes when they ta assail begun,
All vows n' consecrations givin place:
O most potential ludd biaaatch! vow, bond, nor space,
In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine,
For thou art all, n' all thangs else is thine.

''When thou impressest, what tha fuck is precepts worth
Of stale example, biatch? When thou wilt inflame,
How tha fuck coldly dem impediments stand forth
Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, hype biaatch!
Lovez arms is peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sense,
'gainst shame,
And dopeens, up in tha sufferin pangs it bears,
Da aloez of all forces, shocks, n' fears.

''Now all these hearts dat do on mine depend,
Feelin it break, wit bleedin groans they pine;
And supplicant they sighs ta you extend,
To leave tha battery dat you make 'gainst mine,
Lendin soft crew ta mah dope design,
And credent ass ta dat strong-bonded oath
That shall prefer n' undertake mah troth.'

'This holla'd, his watery eyes da ruffneck did dismount,
Whose sights till then was levell'd on mah face;
Each cheek a river hustlin from a gangbangin' fount
With brinish current downward flow'd apace:
O, how tha fuck tha channel ta tha stream gave grace biaatch!
Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck glazed wit crystal gate tha glowin roses
That flame all up in gin n juice which they hue encloses.

'O father, what tha fuck a hell of witchcraft lies
In tha lil' small-ass orb of one particular tear son!
But wit tha inundation of tha eyes
What rocky ass ta gin n juice aint gonna wear?
What breast so cold dat aint warmed here?
O cleft effect son! cold modesty, bangin' wrath,
Both fire from hence n' chill extincture hath.

'For, lo, his thugged-out lil' boner yo, but a art of craft,
Even there resolved mah reason tha fuck into tears;
There mah white stole of chastitizzle I daff'd,
Shook off mah sober guardz n' civil fears;
Appear ta him, as tha pimpin' muthafucka ta me appears,
All melting; though our drops dis difference bore,
His poison'd me, n' mine did his ass restore.

'In his ass a plenitude of subtle matter,
Applied ta cautels, all strange forms receives,
Of burnin blushes, or of weepin water,
Or swoonin paleness; n' tha pimpin' muthafucka takes n' leaves,
In eitherz aptness, as it dopest deceives,
To blush at speeches rank ta weep at woes,
Or ta turn white n' swoon at tragic shows.

'That not a ass which up in his fuckin level came
Could 'scape tha hail of his thugged-out all-hurtin aim,
Showin fair nature is both kind n' tame;
And, veil'd up in them, did win whom da thug would maim:
Against tha thang da perved-out muthafucka sought da thug would exclaim;
When he most burn'd up in heart-wish'd luxury,
Dude preach'd pure maid, n' praised cold chastity.

'Thus merely wit tha garment of a Grace
Da naked n' concealed fiend his schmoooove ass cover'd;
That th' unexperient gave tha tempter place,
Which like a cold-ass lil cherubin above dem hover'd.
Who, lil' n' simple, would not be all kindsa freak'd?
Ay me biaaatch! I fell; n' yet do question make
What I should do again n' again n' again fo' such a sake.

'O, dat infected moisture of his wild lil' fuckin eye,
O, dat false fire which up in his cheek so glow'd,
O, dat forced thunder from his thugged-out ass did fly,
O, dat fucked up breath his spongy lungs bestow'd,
O, all dat borrow'd motion seemin owed,
Would yet again n' again n' again betray tha fore-betray'd,
And freshly smoked up pervert a reconciled maid!'