would you believe it,
but up until very "recently"...
prince was the most
protected by copyright
incentives that couldn't
match anyone...
wanted to watch
   a partyman video:
good luck...
              raspberry beret?
you'd be lucky
with a elevator muzak
"replacement"...
         i guess...
death really does free you
from, all, those,
mundane, constraints....
prince was nowhere
to be found...
sure sure, i'll stream,
then save up,
and, esp. now,
given i own a gramaphone,
sure, i'll buy the vinyl...
but please let me
play the tease...
          what else is made
available on the current,
high-street?
shoes stores,
  gaming stores...
      mobile phone stores...
guess you can't
"napster" the gaming
industry....
   pacman no no...
super mario bros.
double no no...
and it still feels eerie
walking into a supermarket,
when there's
michael jackson playing
in the background...
i was never really a fan...
paedo-up...
  paedo-down...
thank god i bought
the greatest hits
        on 80s silver lining
of a...
does anyone doing
the make-over
to a walkman with
mini-disc players?
           shambles... utter shambles...
well...
why wouldn't it be a vulture
fest whether in journalism
of the critics' shambles
sub-parrot in the whole
medium (of journalism)?
eh music is music is music
isn't some sort of
    a kama sutra "eventuality"...
***: it either happens,
or it... doesn't...
          rough tier around
the prostitutes...
      but when you know you've hit
"home"...
  that scar on your right shoulder
blade?
becomes a tattoo of a dragon
on the right shoulder blade of
the girl you just did it too...
i quiet like when
people elevate the medium
of cipher language,
  to imply where you've been...
and where they
take to make a memory of you
in something transcending
a mere, current,
******* of a (worth of a)
               photograph...
that's nice...
           i like that...
          
revision: it really doesn't count
if you're the person taking
the photograph...
but sure as **** it matters,
when someone takes
a photograph of you...
but given the current climate:
that's going to be, a "slightly",
rare event...

i still keep focusing on "that"
one point of interest /
  historical revisionism...
i.e.: what if...
           men learned to ride
bulls instead of horses,
into a charge?
  what if bulls were elevated
from their domestication
privilege status,
beyond the status of horses?

             i mean...
an army having abled itself
in saddling
a bull rather than a horse?
   i would love to go to that
sort of post-mortem cinema
where other avenues of history
could be screened...

what? hannibal and the (
****... the word just escaped
my mind...
waiting game... "too much"
is going on...
it's related to snails...
trunks, ivory...
       ****... what's that word...)

....................
..................................
ah!                        elephants!

fame...
such an elusive term...
it implies finding
an appeal outside
of the niche audience...

                 and we all know how
that ends up "looking"...
don't we?
               a canopy of ghosts
and greyish mob
               auxiliaries...

           thus said:
to every man who is bound
to finding "something",
he rarely finds it,
tabloid wisdom over 'ere
had to find a coping mechanism
for being forever "undermined"
while sifting through
late 20th century nostalgia...
but, not really
  (the nostalgia bit)...

              came as easily as
remembering black girls
back in school,
      uncurling their sun scortched
twirly locks applying
   vaseline to smooth out
a cow-lick  'air-do.