When complexities increase in number,
brashly jerking me from slumber,
When dilemma stares me in the face,
dragging me into the modern rat race,
I simply ask myself, what would Holmes do?

When there is a downpour of worries all at once,
forcing me to gaffe about and act like a dunce,
When diabolical questions pop up now and then,
making me ponder how and when,
I ask myself,what would Jeeves do?

If only Mr. Holmes were to be my guide,
and the inimitable Jeeves were by my side,
My remotest feelings to them I'd confide,
without having them rebuke or chide,
because Holmes and Jeeves would know what to do.

While Holmes would take the bull by its horns,
Jeeves would provide against obstacles and thorns,
Holmes would know  what to say,
Jeeves would put in a tactful way,
because Holmes and Jeeves would know what to do.  


So, when headaches and woes come in fleets,
I go in my mind to those London streets,
I consult them with a problem or two,
Because Holmes and Jeeves know exactly what to do.

Now, if you think I am the only writer or poet of my kind in this New Age Millennium, you are mistaken

There is me that is, Sammy Kendricks and my crew of reject ragtag writers extraordinaire who are going to change this world

First on the roster we have Haden Zanders, a poet who tackles topics from a humorous but  intelligent and eloquent way

Then there's Zach Nichols my personal shaman, he's into paganism, mysticism, alchemy and spirituality as a whole
His writing is out of this world, literally and add to it he's a musician who is single handedly innovating the neo tribal music genre

Next In Derek Neman, a poet and musican close to my heart, a bit younger than the rest of us but still hold his own
He is loving, caring and has a strong spirit that I know will take him wherever he goes
His words can make mountains weep

Then there are Kaspar and Otto
Kaspar is a poet of the romantic variety, hopelessly devoted to love
Otto is a writer who can sum up any topic in a matter of a few lines
But powerful lines they be
Short, sweet and to the point

Up next is my good friend Jeeves, Jeeves isn't his real name
His real name is Nat but that was too boring so we all call him Jeeves
He is one of the mad ones, stricken with a severe case of wanderlust and wonderment
He served in the navy for three years
Now he's back and writes of his travels and his loves and losses
He paint, plays bass and philosophizes the human condition

Of course how could I forget Pete, a clean cut good 'ol boy
Always down to meet woman and have a drink and make a night out of a day
He writes rhymes like I've never seen
So vibrant and addicting

We all have that friend we **** heads with and Sonny is that friend for me
We're opposites in every sense of the word
You all know me so imagine the reverse
But his writing is political, realistic, stoic, emotional and completely him
I love him to death, there will come a day where we throw down

Now finally last but not least
You know him
You love him
You hate him
It's the Don Juan of Dumont
The one and only
Quincy Valero
His writing reads as fast as he lives
A mile a minute
Girls, cars, drugs, food, parties
Excess and excitement
Memories and mistakes
Highs and lows
Yes

But of course we have other non writing friends
Zeik Adams my engineering friend whos gonna be rich someday
Nyal Jensen our dancing friend who always brings it to the floor in every club we hit
Ahio Rikashi our best bud from the far east, romantic and deep
Kyle Filmore my trippy drummer
And Mike Neman, Derek's younger brother and one of my closest friends

We've all shared pain and laughter
Trips, drunken evenings
Road trips, meals
Quarrels and misunderstandings
But we all care about each other
And all of our writing and our goal to always be there to check the pulse of this world
Hell, even start it up when it wains off every now and then
We're here to give this generation a kick start
A reminder of what we can and will do
We can revitalize our world with knowledge, understanding and unity
We are the pulse generation

the ones that **** tend to deem those that talk ***** to be without a ****... mr. censor, please, i do not come between your ******* and your take on eating stake... so, can you please retract from "moralising" me in terms of vocab? let me **** an invisible ***** with my tongue, while i allow you to keep your gynocentric whoop-de-la-outlandish fetishes... don't school me... i've had my schooling, a real society doesn't school men beyond the appropriate age of being schooled... please don't suggest a reinvention of a ******* schoolyard; vocabulary adheres to no notion, of being deemed a / made into a monopoly.*

i hate these people, well, comics,
they always start off a joke:
a friend of mine... who's muslim...
mate... you don't have a muslim
"friend" within a mile strong radius...
sand-****** / camel-jockey ref.?
schoolyard ****,
spoken by a Hindu...
   he wasn't my friend, and never
will be, and i will never expect
the excuse of a muslim "fwend"
to tell a joke...
                 can't believe these people
turned into gnats rather than
comedians...
i'm like a cow imitating
a *torero" with a red cape "that's" its tail...
the excuse of having a friend,
that you don't actually have,
to simply tell a joke and cushion
the offended police? ain't working.
just today i was walking if a nekken-ekken
bottle and a police car stopped on
the street:
          i have to admit, a little nervous,
since drinking alcohol in public
in england is illegal,
so the cop in the car asked me:
did you call the police?
no, i'm just passing through.
all i can think of is an angry woman
wasting the police budget
describing me as an angry drunk
throwing beer bottles in the air...
while breaking the law:
texting while driving...
               the police seem to be nibbling
on my toes...
  i don't mind them, i find them
to be the most agreeable type of people...
i get to drink a bottle of beer
and never get harassed...
     unless in the vicinity of a public
house that sells alcohol...
     i still don't get the jokes
by comics that reference having
"friends"... stop bullshitting and just say
that there's a pre-punch line of:
     i don't actually have a muslim friend,
but it'll sound better if i "have" one,
so you can forgive the joke...
       sand-****** and camel-jockey are
actually Hindu terms derived from
the schoolyard...
                me? i'm just borrowing...
i had muslim friends, once upon a time,
but then that once upon a time
turned into: the reality of, right now
and crispy Jeeves: no, not anymore.
                            why fake it?
oh, i have this muslim friend...
   the stereotype stings, but it's true:
i had a jamaican "friend",
he dealt me the illegal, psychotic
soros skunk...
                             mind you,
he also asked me to teach his daufghter
layla (acoustic) on the guitar...
            yeah, "friend"...
               do we really have to be
so ******* friendly all the time to
merely tell a joke?
these comedians, who are they fooling?
you're as much friend with a muslim
as i am with a, ******* ostrich...
     and pigs will fly... yeah:
i've made a bet on that improbability...
watch me rein in the millions of cooties,
******* skint rats...
                      anorexia didn't evolve
past "entertaining" women, rodents would
know.
                 why is it suddenly o.k. to
tell a joke flaking it over with a:
so i have this friend...
                            bash it silly with
a bare fist or a silly-glove that's designed
to produce the plum lip smacker version
of a botox insertion...
        pucker... plum lip to lip balm kiss;
next time i believe these comedians
i'll have a ******* orangutan on a leash
*****-******* a chimp, calling it: Nancy.