unnamed

wandering the street wondering what lies beneath a small child sees a victim of the system gone wild / lying just across in the valley of the lost and forgotten where the rotten food's awash with water costs / life is never easy while the wages are so measly leaving children in the city reading riddles in graffiti / written by the bullets fully mass manufactured if you do the mathematics it all factors in the after / math, nor teachers for english, hopes diminished by unanswered questions many lessons unfinished / ask yourself a question if such fate is made predestined how can those with blessings claim it's justice when we judge them

unnamed

in the late hours of solitude
ego can see through its own mist
and lose itself
in a dissipation of unheard echoes.
consisting merely of gathered things and choices and conflict;
and measured only by the ever-minding mirror of others,
it begs no surprise for its mighty fragility.
for all of it can shatter
with a sudden draft of cold,
in the late hours of solitude.

captions

sportsmetrics invents the "vibrating racket"

former thundercat quits dayjob, joins feline porn trio

holy shit, my faith got me pneumonia

furrowed brow adds sense of president-ness to young senator

scheming politician panders to the often marginalized dentist vote

The Beast (a Narrow-Street production)

critics rave "TheBeast" is the best "The Beast" story ever told since Narrow-Street started writing plays about "The Beast" and moral victories there-over... starring an all-star cast of stars! including "The Beast" most well known for his portrait of himself; a personal protagonist quite reminiscent of the author, and a narrator with delusions of rap grandeur! and now....

....................................................................................
i was born in the belly of a beast, that feasted, on the least of ancestors i shall never meet with -or speak with about their drought of fulfilled dreams as they wet the master's greens with sorry tear-filled streams- but their voices still summoned me, their faces were sullenly, hoping to see whether man's beast would stomach me, so stubbornly I did that which was required, i gave the beast hell til he came to bleed fire, and suddenly tired, he struggled to keep down my steadfast desire, a vengeance run deep down, i leapt out the beast's mouth from which i was mired but found my soul soaked cold in serpent's saliva. "young sire. son why do you try to escape?" he enquired. "i guess i don't fucking like snakes!" i replied with the violence of years of forced silence, "the tears of men's cries got me lining up stakes," to drive at its head, or its heart, if it had such a part, but instead, i was weak, without bread. "how you hunger come into me, for food, strength, virility, for peace, warmth, serenity, don't wallow in hate." "i don't fall for trickery, it ends all with misery, put simpl-y, i won't let you swallow my fate." "but it's man that created me!" "and i will destroy you." "(oh how i have baited thee!) bold in your boyhood." "yet you've underrated me, then, now, belatedly, now i'll so fatefully unfold your ploying." "annoying! i've chewed tougher meat than you-" "but i grew on the streets, rougher streaked than you." "yet still I am the Beast, and sir You are the least, won't you eat of my kingdom so shiny and new!" and though it was tempting, a moment of weakness, of almost relenting, surrounded by bleakness, i reached for my ears just to drown out his voice, his speeches would never give doubt to my choice. "the great deceiver will claim to provide, it makes one a heathen to breathe in his lies..." and though through the time i'd just lost my faith, twas brillig too high this, the cost of my fate, too aimlessly roaming, like old wildebeest, the only solution: to punish the beast. he laughed and he roared, "oh you bitter child! can you fight such a war so unfit and mild? just sell me your soul, it's the sinner's delight!" "i swear i shall kill you this wintery night!" but i saw not his spineless tail come around like a wave slaps a ship i was thrown to the ground, the pavement was stripped of all colour but red, the canvas was painted with blood of the dead. he said, "see the men who all fought on this street? i made meals of them from the heads to the feet. if only they'd built up my fortune and fame they'd not be the victims of torture and pain." "scorching in flames' an unfortunate fate," i retorted "a shame. you shall choke on my plate." a minute of silence, his eyes try to size up my will as i rise to his challenge to kill him... he said, " all you have are your hands and your head, see?" i replied, "of this man, all such weapons are deadly."
....................................................................................



to be continued, when next i have nothing to do

captions

bigfoot spotted, apparently having evolved better defense against germs

construction worker wishes he "knew how to quit" other construction worker

easter canceled as easter bunny caught and shot while on rampage through cabbage patch

"goddamn motorcycle" breaks down "with fucking perfect timing"

q.o.t.d

marc, you will never be happy here. you would be happier working under the system [as an illegal immigrant in america].

--- aunty maggie

it really hit home that i didn't have an honest retort to that.

golden age

i remember the days of the hiphop purist
when the rhymes were just blazin' and the game was glorious,
how the times have changed as us cats made progress,
sold some crack cocaine but now we trademark 'holla's,
yet the life that is shown on the tv screen
undermines our own if that's all we dream
we were real at the start when the shit was raw
to reveal from the heart keeps the artform pure

marvel-lust

see miss honey brown sugar sweet damn her guns are smoking
she said her name was mary jane and now we wanna toke it
hypnotize our jealous eyes and bleeds our pockets broken
but when she said to come to bed no sweeter words were spoken

[think ghostface - marvel instrumental]

stream of consciousness

so lyrically cynically preach the love over hate but keep the gun in your waist just in case you hear ricochets reaching for stars as-of-late niggaz gone from the game, ask hussein, got a pail he could kick away filled with last words last throes or last wishes, i, kill with mad verbs blast prose in mad mixtures, and bitches got me mixed up doin verse for no cream, if you burst this old seam i got the words to stitch this, verse, paint the pictures with blood, sweat and tears bring the flood of worst fears from those sacred scriptures, learned 'em burned 'em because i was burdened with life, was urgent-ly in need of earnings, yearnings, for some god's return to earth, but the bitch keeps turning and the itch keeps burning, and dollars and cents don't make sense if squalor traps, blue collars from the get go so i holler for the ghetto though i know i gotta let go, some day one day, i keep this gunplay for a bloody sunday's, finest times missed my rhymes hit timeless, my aim's to shine this light on the game...

[think ghostface - metal lungies instrumental]

eve of leave

watching children of men
filling the belly in the beast
silencing the science, for a day
weighing the brain game style
sleeping over, over sleeping
getting late, already reminiscing
soon to 165, bags to pack
then to 1623,

2007 / b'more / vodka

some of the coolest, and warmest, folks on earth welcomed me into their home for their old year's night celebration. amongst other things it was my first:

-trip to baltimore to see a great friend (she really is)
-french bakery strawberry cake experience (delicious)
-homemade cranberry vodka tasting (joy juice indeed)
-nintendo Wii experience (gave and received some ass whooping)
-bus drop off at a strange corner since freshman year (too funny)
-deep foray into hip hop since i left college (wu tang!)

hopefully it won't be my last! i mean, after all i do now have an honorary chair at the dinner table. :)

stream of consciousness

super lyrical, rhymes resurrect like a miracle, atypical styles wreck these mics, decks and stereos, i bury those fad rappers, blow spots like chemicals with thoughts-that so caustic it's raw undigestible, untenable mc's lay claim to rap fame and rap fortune but ought to be dropped from the game, we cavort with these flipflopping niggas too often, hiphop needs a pill popped to have an abortion, come off it, i caution no more trigger soft'ning, just gun fingers lofted at gold digger flossing, they're false as a prophet and all sugar frosted, but one to the head make it red so they forfeit, resorted to tossin mc's in rage, your hype man's the type, man, should leave the stage, or just feed the caged, beast i keep away, til unleashed the day i got need to play, with words, with guns, with knives, with minds, with rhymes returned to great rap's divine, we shine like the suns of no man's design, the curse of mad verses bleed em bad versus, street universes 'cross sands of time, i'm searching for rap styles-as mad as mine, don't it irk you, hurt you, my terror alert blew, the roof off those cats-caught aloof in rap's curfew, mad props to the first few guards who gave birth to, the first of an art that's as hard as old turf feuds, rockin the earth like armageddon couldn't end it, hiphop will reign forever where the champions will defend it...

[think 50 cent - "guns come out" instrumental]