Category Archives: culture

Ain’t no app for this, sucka!

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Ain’t no app for this, sucka!

so don’t even try

Your iPhone, your iPad, your pie in the sky

don’t make no difference to a man like me

There ain’t no app gonna cure my ill

Fuck you, Bounty pick ur’ uppers

You can’t soak up this spill

It’s all gone south of Mississippi

to the depths of hell

You know I’m telling the truth

You know I’m keepin’ it real

ain’t no app for this, sucka

no tweet and no twitter

I don’t need to go back to school

shut your mouth fool!

quit your talkin’ and feel

we’re too hurt to heal

it’s a done done deal

 

The King Of The Hip Hop Nation (Lyrics for a song yet to be completed)

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You better hop on this train

Before it leaves the station

And ride with the King of the Hip Hop Nation

I’ve had enough

of all your self-serving lies

you won’t get my vote

I’m gonna give you a surprise

I’m gonna shove my dick in your mouth

and fuck you silly

’cause you deserve it you know

you motherfucking whore

I’m fed up

with what’s goin’ down

with what’s goin’ round

it’s all sick

it don’t make no sense

so y’all better catch this train

before it leaves the station

and ride with the King of the Hip Hop Nation

that’s right

ain’t gonna sell you no crap

I’ll stick it straight in the ass

of the Department of Hate

Cause theys vile y’all

they done us wrong

and sold us out

for a song

it ain’t right

i gotta shout it out now

and ride through the night

Like Paul Revere

I know the revolution’s near

Damn straight

Get on this train

you wanna be riding with the King

Not Elvis y’all

I’m talking about the King of the Hip Hop Nation

Go on now bitches

Tell your friends and relations

Tell them you’re riding with the King of the Hip Hop Nation

Damn straight

Keep it real, y’all

end of the song, y’all

Poets Make Good Perverts

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Poets make good perverts

Because they thrill at each embrace

And yearn to suck out all the juices

within her feminine grace

They find sanctuary

Where others find filth

and in the forbidden

They find release

However perverts do not make poets

Alas it cannot be done

For only poets can make the connection

Between a lovely buttocks

and a meadow at dawn

For a pervert it is all one thing

Repeated without pause

For the poet it is everything

wriggling, squirming

in all kinds of weather

beautiful beyond words

and nasty beyond compare

 

Snotty Little Bastards

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Those snotty little bastards

Gather around my door

They make their useless comments

As I pass through their dreary world

Those snotty little bastards

are rude

They have no brains

They clog up the trains

With their backpacks, tattoos, and stupid looking hair

These snotty little bastards are everywhere

They think they’re unique

They shop at boutiques

I wish they’d just fuck off

When I try to find out what’s going on

In this high definition world

Snotty little bastards say it’s no use

You may as well stay home

On Facebook they dwell

They are on every cell

It’s a living hell

What if they held an election and nobody voted?

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What if they held an election and nobody voted?

And nobody went to work?

What if the gangs stopped killing each other?

What if everyone lost their smirk?

What if Jesus returned and nobody cared?

What if everything were shared?

What if Madonna stopped touring

and meth were a thing of the past?

What then? I ask

Would the birds stop their singing?

Would the phones stop ringing?

Would people stop lying?

Would babies stop their crying?

Would I finally give up my act?

If the server went down

You couldn’t get to town

Blank screens throughout the internet

Emptiness filling the streets

What then? I ask

Would we be afraid?

Would we have a parade?

Would it piss us off?

Or would we just take off our clothes

and relax?

Daffofils and Ducks

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Daffodils and ducks

All the colors are pastel

And the sun is smiling sweetly

But I never get sunburn

With my shirt tucked in

And my pants freshly pressed

I am blessed

My pants are never unzipped

All my thoughts are of bunnies and bikes

I have no genitals

I stick to the sidewalk, avoiding the cracks

Don’t want to break my poor mama’s back

And nobody is black

Today I got to paste my favorite Bible verses

Here in my Jesus scrapbook

‘Cept Jesus ain’t a scrap

His life was pure

No pee-pee, no fear

He never wet his bed

I will not think of, I will not think of, I will not think of

Love

Thank you Jesus

My catcher in the rye

I smell so good because of you

Because of you my life is a bright and shining lie

How much happiness can one boy stand?

Suddenly I start to run

Scissors in my hand

I stumble and die

Why Jesus why?

Sweet Jesus. I smell so good because of you.


It Can Be Done

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Limitless opportunity in an unshackled universe

It can be done

Present the ideas that will never fly

It can be done

Dance in some new crazy sexy way

It can be done

Don’t wait for opinion or you will lose your nerve

It can be done

Blow up the carcass of your belief

It can be done

Put your plans in motion

It can be done

Cause the clockwork to pause

and reset the time

It can be done

This poem was inspired by a paperweight model of one of the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge, which you see above. The Golden Gate Bridge, for me, represents audacious daring. Taking a crazy idea which many people said at the time would not fly, and making it not only fly but become an icon for the American spirit of unshackled innovation and exquisite beauty. You can purchase the model at the new Bridge Pavilion, next to the Golden Gate Bridge.