You know the laid back kid in High School
who was always the last one to class and
the first one to leave?
The one that the teacher
would call on just to see if he was paying attention,
even though he never was?
Now this kid wasn’t a jock or anything,
but he made being a loner look pretty cool –
the same way lions make killing look artful.
Its kinda weird you know,
because you see kids like that and
never really know how to classify them.
You don’t really know if he’s a pothead,
a troublemaker, or just a plain old slouch.
At least until you invite him into a smokers circle
and he nicely declines like a square.
But deep inside you admire something about him.
You admire the way he makes peer pressure
look like some far-flung cliched myth.
You admire the way he can skip class
so quietly and not brag about it.
Ha!
Most kids practically sign up for suspensions just so the whole
school can hear their name being called on the loud speakers,
ya know?
Honestly,
I just wish it was more kids out there
who were brave enough to stand out;
who were wise enough to know you didn’t
have to be a stereotype to be somebody.
…Well, we’re all grown now though,
so I guess reminiscing on my petty
High School memories is futile.
They say High School is nothing
compared to the real world.
Ha!
Yeah right.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Monday, October 27, 2014
Seventeen Burling Game
The most honest people are locked in mental asylums...
Having sweet dreams of playing hit the piƱata
with a hot air balloon full of pills—
colorful ones that look like
tiny pellets of rainbows in your hand.
I heard they’re suppose to put a straightjacket
on the demons running around in your head,
or something like that.
I’m not sure if they ever do though, but I seen
a couple of test subjects and it seemed like they
put a straightjacket around their spirit instead.
Anyway,
I believe the “crazy” are another form of Revolutionary.
Another force of Superhero inhabiting the world that swaggers courage.
So the next time you see him/her walking the down the street
and you want to point your stupid little finger and laugh,
please make sure you admire...NO, ENVY!
how easy it is for them to disregard your ignorance
and go on living like KINGS OF THE MOTHAFUCKIN’ JUNGLE!
Having sweet dreams of playing hit the piƱata
with a hot air balloon full of pills—
colorful ones that look like
tiny pellets of rainbows in your hand.
I heard they’re suppose to put a straightjacket
on the demons running around in your head,
or something like that.
I’m not sure if they ever do though, but I seen
a couple of test subjects and it seemed like they
put a straightjacket around their spirit instead.
Anyway,
I believe the “crazy” are another form of Revolutionary.
Another force of Superhero inhabiting the world that swaggers courage.
So the next time you see him/her walking the down the street
and you want to point your stupid little finger and laugh,
please make sure you admire...NO, ENVY!
how easy it is for them to disregard your ignorance
and go on living like KINGS OF THE MOTHAFUCKIN’ JUNGLE!
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
#Emo-jeez
How many emoji’s do you have to send
before the human vanishes out of your heart?
Before the Motherboard of an
iphone cradles your soul?
Before your phone dies like a
suicide bomber and takes you with it?
Has it ever crossed your mind
that when the sun shines too bright to
read a text message than just maybe
its trying to get your attention?
Maybe Mother Nature is no different than
an insecure schoolgirl yearning for compliments;
sashaying bare-skinned into your wildest dreams just
so you can know what the naked truth looks like.
She loves you so much that she’ll turn her skin
into a touch screen just so you can feel her again;
Surgically implant FaceTime Cameras into her eyes
just so you can stare into them forever.
before the human vanishes out of your heart?
Before the Motherboard of an
iphone cradles your soul?
Before your phone dies like a
suicide bomber and takes you with it?
Has it ever crossed your mind
that when the sun shines too bright to
read a text message than just maybe
its trying to get your attention?
Maybe Mother Nature is no different than
an insecure schoolgirl yearning for compliments;
sashaying bare-skinned into your wildest dreams just
so you can know what the naked truth looks like.
She loves you so much that she’ll turn her skin
into a touch screen just so you can feel her again;
Surgically implant FaceTime Cameras into her eyes
just so you can stare into them forever.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Monday, October 20, 2014
Sunday, October 19, 2014
"Green Power Ranger, GO!"
"Green Power Ranger, GO!"
My 3-year-old nephew thinks
he’s a Green Power Ranger.
"Dragon Buster, Fire!"
And you know what the craziest part is,
I actually believe him.
Well,
at least until motorcycles come
roaring around the corner like
a pack of blood thirsty lions…
Then he’s just Invisible Kid using
his grandpa as a human shield.
"Dragon Kick, Hiyah!!!"
But I believe all 3-year-olds are
walking pint-sized miracles that can
see through lies and skin colors.
"Tiger Knee, BAM!"
That can scare monsters away with a laugh and
then challenge God to a footrace around the sun.
That can spin the world on one finger
while making shadow puppets with the others.
"Hadouuu-KEN!"
So if being a good uncle means telling my
nephew that Power Rangers are make-believe,
than what the hell should I tell him about people?
"Power Gun...BOOM!"
My 3-year-old nephew thinks
he’s a Green Power Ranger.
"Dragon Buster, Fire!"
And you know what the craziest part is,
I actually believe him.
Well,
at least until motorcycles come
roaring around the corner like
a pack of blood thirsty lions…
Then he’s just Invisible Kid using
his grandpa as a human shield.
"Dragon Kick, Hiyah!!!"
But I believe all 3-year-olds are
walking pint-sized miracles that can
see through lies and skin colors.
"Tiger Knee, BAM!"
That can scare monsters away with a laugh and
then challenge God to a footrace around the sun.
That can spin the world on one finger
while making shadow puppets with the others.
"Hadouuu-KEN!"
So if being a good uncle means telling my
nephew that Power Rangers are make-believe,
than what the hell should I tell him about people?
"Power Gun...BOOM!"
Thursday, October 16, 2014
“Dear Hip-Hop, Since Our First Kiss…”
One of the most pathetic things I have ever
witnessed, is rappers arguing over who’s richer…
“Ya chains fake,”
“You ‘ont get money nigga,”
“I fucked your baby mama doe! Then
made her do a somersault into the Landaulet…”
I can see the KKK right now with their feet up
eating popcorn in a mansion somewhere.
Watching fool’s do a better job than them in HD;
thinking it may be time for early retirement.
NIGGAS ARE BLACK PEOPLE
THAT LYNCH THEMSELVES.
Its sad because if you ask a rapper why,
they smile and tell you its part of their culture.
That people watch it and love it.
But people also watched the twin towers collapse,
so does that mean they loved that too?
And why don’t novelist
or actors ever beef?
I never heard Denzel Washington
call Samuel Jackson ah “fuck boy”.
Or Paulo Coelho tell Robin Sharma
he’s going to “shoot ‘em when he sees him”.
This is why people see us as threats.
So when you’re walking down the street
and white folks are locking their car doors,
its probably because in your last song you said
your “trigger finger’s itchin’ for ah homicide”.
But don’t mind me,
I’m just another hating nigga
throwing shade out the bus window.
witnessed, is rappers arguing over who’s richer…
“Ya chains fake,”
“You ‘ont get money nigga,”
“I fucked your baby mama doe! Then
made her do a somersault into the Landaulet…”
I can see the KKK right now with their feet up
eating popcorn in a mansion somewhere.
Watching fool’s do a better job than them in HD;
thinking it may be time for early retirement.
NIGGAS ARE BLACK PEOPLE
THAT LYNCH THEMSELVES.
Its sad because if you ask a rapper why,
they smile and tell you its part of their culture.
That people watch it and love it.
But people also watched the twin towers collapse,
so does that mean they loved that too?
And why don’t novelist
or actors ever beef?
I never heard Denzel Washington
call Samuel Jackson ah “fuck boy”.
Or Paulo Coelho tell Robin Sharma
he’s going to “shoot ‘em when he sees him”.
This is why people see us as threats.
So when you’re walking down the street
and white folks are locking their car doors,
its probably because in your last song you said
your “trigger finger’s itchin’ for ah homicide”.
But don’t mind me,
I’m just another hating nigga
throwing shade out the bus window.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
#Ebola
She’s an African girl with a french kiss
that can make your insides bleed…
Your body ache…
the butterflies in your
stomach grow claws.
She smooches over every inch of
your body with her lethal lips leaving
a trail of hickies behind—flesh-eating
ones that look like red rose petals
tattooed on skin.
She hates humans with a passion.
In fact, the only thing she likes about
them is the way their voices crack
whenever they say her name.
Her hobby is dancing at funerals.
Her occupation is streetwalking for the Grim Reaper.
Her dream is to one day travel the world.
that can make your insides bleed…
Your body ache…
the butterflies in your
stomach grow claws.
She smooches over every inch of
your body with her lethal lips leaving
a trail of hickies behind—flesh-eating
ones that look like red rose petals
tattooed on skin.
She hates humans with a passion.
In fact, the only thing she likes about
them is the way their voices crack
whenever they say her name.
Her hobby is dancing at funerals.
Her occupation is streetwalking for the Grim Reaper.
Her dream is to one day travel the world.
Monday, October 13, 2014
Fuck Cancer
My grandmother was strangled to death
by the bloodstained hands of cancer.
I imagine the disease one night sliding
down her windpipe and tip-toeing
like a burglar into her lungs – *again*.
I say *again* because the first time
he wasn’t strong enough to finish the job.
You see,
cancer and death made a
deal years before I was born.
(…Work was picking up for death –
as it usually does in the summer.
So one sunny morning he
gave a few of his top hit men
a call and told them if they came
through as usual, the reward
would be bountiful…)
The first time,
cancer underestimated
my grandmothers fight.
So death empathized with him
and they both agreed to wait
until she was practically senile –
COWARDS.
…Then BOOM!
Her corpse is in an incinerator
being cremated and we’re outside
teary-eyed wondering why God
always lets the bad guys win.
My dad told me something about death
being a bully and that funerals are like a
shindig for him and his posse of rapscallions.
Back then, I wanted to find every
one of them and cut their throats
with the shards of our broken hearts.
But I guess that wouldn’t make me
much different, huh?
by the bloodstained hands of cancer.
I imagine the disease one night sliding
down her windpipe and tip-toeing
like a burglar into her lungs – *again*.
I say *again* because the first time
he wasn’t strong enough to finish the job.
You see,
cancer and death made a
deal years before I was born.
(…Work was picking up for death –
as it usually does in the summer.
So one sunny morning he
gave a few of his top hit men
a call and told them if they came
through as usual, the reward
would be bountiful…)
The first time,
cancer underestimated
my grandmothers fight.
So death empathized with him
and they both agreed to wait
until she was practically senile –
COWARDS.
…Then BOOM!
Her corpse is in an incinerator
being cremated and we’re outside
teary-eyed wondering why God
always lets the bad guys win.
My dad told me something about death
being a bully and that funerals are like a
shindig for him and his posse of rapscallions.
Back then, I wanted to find every
one of them and cut their throats
with the shards of our broken hearts.
But I guess that wouldn’t make me
much different, huh?
Friday, October 10, 2014
Multi-Billion Dollar Industry
Nowadays…
kids take Adderall like skittles;
catch Ritalin in their mouth like
popcorn.
Doctors write out prescriptions like welcome letters.
Mothers read them like Bedtime Stories.
…Everybody feels a little more heroic.
They dance, they laugh, they smile –
we clap.
“Adults are never wrong”, right?
Just lock your child’s mind into a
dungeon until whatever’s left of them
comes crawling out “normal”,
if thats what you call it.
If “normal” is hot-wiring somebodies brain,
than I guess vacation is another word for
kidnap.
…Aren’t we all so lucky?
…Shouldn’t we all be counting
our blessings on bloody fingers?
kids take Adderall like skittles;
catch Ritalin in their mouth like
popcorn.
Doctors write out prescriptions like welcome letters.
Mothers read them like Bedtime Stories.
…Everybody feels a little more heroic.
They dance, they laugh, they smile –
we clap.
“Adults are never wrong”, right?
Just lock your child’s mind into a
dungeon until whatever’s left of them
comes crawling out “normal”,
if thats what you call it.
If “normal” is hot-wiring somebodies brain,
than I guess vacation is another word for
kidnap.
…Aren’t we all so lucky?
…Shouldn’t we all be counting
our blessings on bloody fingers?
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
If Tumblr was a High School…
If Tumblr was a High School…
Emos would be doodling love poems
on their arms instead of suicide notes.
Bullies would be stuffing their insecurities
in their lockers instead of geeks.
Snobs would be wearing their heart
on their sleeve instead of cufflinks.
Jocks would be chasing down
dreams instead of stereotypes.
Cheerleaders would be building
castles in the air instead of pyramids.
Nerds would be making history
instead of bomb threats.
Loners would have a posse of
imaginary friends to keep them company.
Troublemakers would be running for
student council instead of vandalism.
Stoners would be skipping to class
instead of skipping a class.
Teachers would be grading us on our
aspirations instead of our apathy.
…If Tumblr was a High School.
Emos would be doodling love poems
on their arms instead of suicide notes.
Bullies would be stuffing their insecurities
in their lockers instead of geeks.
Snobs would be wearing their heart
on their sleeve instead of cufflinks.
Jocks would be chasing down
dreams instead of stereotypes.
Cheerleaders would be building
castles in the air instead of pyramids.
Nerds would be making history
instead of bomb threats.
Loners would have a posse of
imaginary friends to keep them company.
Troublemakers would be running for
student council instead of vandalism.
Stoners would be skipping to class
instead of skipping a class.
Teachers would be grading us on our
aspirations instead of our apathy.
…If Tumblr was a High School.
Monday, October 6, 2014
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Friday, October 3, 2014
A Woman with The Heart of a Blue Whale
*(A Blue Whales heart
is the size of a mini cooper…)*
She’s the type of girl
that would run into a burning
building with gasoline perfume
on to save her marriage.
The type that can salsa spin a
dancing eternal flame with her
bare hands and melt it into ashes.
Then pour the ashes into an
Etch A Sketch and draw a portrait
of her Soul Mate swallowing
the key to her heart.
Now if thats NOT the best way
to ignite a match made in heaven,
I’ll be waiting for God to personally
drop off a box of them on my front
doorstep with instructions.
Because angels like her
don’t go skydiving
out of paradise everyday.
But when they do……
they never wear parachutes.
*(…And its heartbeat can be
heard from two miles away.)*
is the size of a mini cooper…)*
She’s the type of girl
that would run into a burning
building with gasoline perfume
on to save her marriage.
The type that can salsa spin a
dancing eternal flame with her
bare hands and melt it into ashes.
Then pour the ashes into an
Etch A Sketch and draw a portrait
of her Soul Mate swallowing
the key to her heart.
Now if thats NOT the best way
to ignite a match made in heaven,
I’ll be waiting for God to personally
drop off a box of them on my front
doorstep with instructions.
Because angels like her
don’t go skydiving
out of paradise everyday.
But when they do……
they never wear parachutes.
*(…And its heartbeat can be
heard from two miles away.)*
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