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Mark Toney  Mar 2020
Jamaica Jam
Mark Toney Mar 2020
Jammin' in Jamaica
Driving my DeSoto
Being pursued by
My foe Quasimodo
Lying on the dash is
The missing person photo
When my phone rings
I hear "Hello Moto!"

(Chorus)
I don't have to work
When I'm in my pajamas
Acting like a ****
When I'm in the Bahamas
Really go berserk
When I'm feeding my llamas
We all go to pieces
When we’re talkin' to our mommas

Jammin' in Jamaicaaaa...
Jammin' in Jamaicaaaa...
Jammin' in Jamaicaaaa...
Jammin' in Jamaicaaaa...

Rush hour traffic
So I park my DeSoto
Nowhere in sight
Is my foe Quasimodo
See a man who looks like
The missing person photo
Then his phone rings
Shouting "Hello Moto!"

(Chorus)
I don't have to work
When I'm in my pajamas
Acting like a ****
When I'm in the Bahamas
Really go berserk
When I'm feeding my llamas
We all go to pieces
When we’re talkin' to our mommas

Jammin' in Jamaicaaa...
Jammin' in Jamaicaaa...
Jammin' in Jamaicaaa...
Jammin' in Jamaicaaa...

Jammin' in Jamaica
With the man in the photo
Who's not really missing
Just roving incognito
Suddenly appears
My foe Quasimodo
Truce as we pose
For a group selfie photo

(Chorus)
I don't have to work
When I'm in my pajamas
Acting like a ****
When I'm in the Bahamas
Really go berserk
When I'm feeding my llamas
We all go to pieces
When we’re talkin' to our mommas


(Repeat chorus and fade, with "Jammin' in Jamaicaaa" playing in the background with lines 1, 3, 5, and 7 of the chorus.)

© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
3/5/2020 - Poetry form: Lyric - © 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Brent Kincaid Jul 2015
Jammin’ with Mammon.
Hyped to the max.
Finding those loopholes
Paying no tax.
Slammin’ for Mammon.
Foreclosing on life.
You died too soon?
We’ll tax your wife.

Jammin’ with Mammon
The world by the tail.
Lie cheat and swindle
Don’t worry about bail.
Swimmin' like salmon
Against the stream.
Dealing from the bottom;
Living the dream.

Slammin’ for Mammon;
Trample the rest.
Get first and last from
The community chest.
No famine for Mammon;
Let the poor starve.
**** the fatted calf and
Get ready to carve.

Jammin’ with Mammon
As good as it gets.
No room for conscience
Or squishy regrets.
Slammin’ for Mammon
Means money is king.
Don’t count the victims,
Just get the brass ring.
Marshall Gass  Nov 2014
Jammin'
Marshall Gass Nov 2014
musical walls of throbbing
meaning
makeshift footsteps
escaping tendons
lashing tongues
notes of splendour
****** in my trombone-chills

whats the wizardry
in those piano fingers
belting blues
rainbow ecstasies
oozing ****** gyrations
three minute *******
splitting night into slivers
for tomorrows takings

lets dance
jam together
touch each others souls
with promise.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
that's what ****** me off about western journalism,
there is a satirical newspaper in Poland,
there is a counter-culture,
but you obviously don't see it...
NIE is a decent newspaper,
    because it is satirical, but also serious,
at the same time...

  and there is anti-Catholic sentiment among
the people...
   i should know, my grandfather
was a communist party member,
   a strictly atheistic, humanistic,
secular upbringing -
              
   but when did nationalism die
in the western nations?
         16th century? 17th century?
you know... before nationalism morphed
into imperialism?
  obviously these post-nationalistic states
are looking at states that regained
their nation-state status like
**** sapiens looking at a bunch of
******* retards... sorry... neanderthals...

well... d'uh...
it's because the western states do not
understand the concept of a healthy nationalism,
oh a collective citizenry,
  of solidarity...
                   these days, anything right
of the center is... FAR RIGHT...
   there are fringe groups everywhere...
but you're talking about nations
that don't have the privilege of
   the imperialistic interlude...
instead: subjugation by other powers,
in the case of Poland... 3!
      
          maybe the western states just
don't know how to express a healthy
nationalism,
           maybe imperialism really
****** them up....
                    what?
   in H'america don't they call nationalism,
patriotism?
   last time i heard,
   i've been the subject of H'american
nationalism since an early age...
      cultural exports...
             more cultural exportation from
H'america than anywhere else...

/ interlude:

new additions to the jukebox
(and no, i haven't listened to these tracks
so even i don't know whether
i'm going to like them):

kokoroko - abusey junction
quantic - time is the enemy
lafayette afro rock band - hihache
gramatik - just jammin'
anthony brancati - neo-funk
savages - you're my chocolate
funky destination - the inside man
       (soopasoul remix)
kiasmos - looped
thurisaz - endless
LTJ - i don't want this groove to ever ends
low - lullaby
blonde redhesd - for the damaged coda

o.k. i knew this one already -
cymande - dove                               /

yeah... concerning
this:
the curious case of suzanna berlinsky

i can understand being blocked
for, incivility...
      but the Mongols really did sack
Moscow...
   and they had to traverse Siberia...
so...
             well **** me...
if i get blocked by someone for writing
such a comment,
as i wrote...
       just a **** shame...
   have to block them back...
    if anyone is available...
please tell suzanna berlinsky
   that's she an outstanding poet...
                  i would have liked to read all
of her works (yes, she is on this site).
Mark  Nov 2020
Crack The Code
Mark Nov 2020
For real, keep it on loop
I dig it a lot, like mama’s corn soup
You feelin’ me, hearing that tune
Or maybe I’m in the wrong room
Get up on it, know what I mean
Jammin’ on hot scones with cream
This song needs to tell our life stories
We all have battles forever in our lives
When you hear the sound of pop pop, oh no
Kids gettin’ shot for a pair of shoes in Chicago

Tough neighbourhood street
Corrupt badges on the beat
Planting dope, selling candy at the corner shop
Writing songs, tagging everywhere, if you dare
Doin’ time, enter from behind, I never, I swear
Come out on parole, new king on throne, lost all control
If I had my time again, I’d save a lot more, forget ‘bout toys
Look over my shoulders, stick to the plan, escape from the boys

They aren’t speakin’ our language
Let’s get the hell outta there, somewhere tranquil
Day by day, lets see if we can crack the code
Try placing ones thoughts in a brand new abode
For better or worse, it’s up to you, not your corner crew
We grow up thinking we had to listen, who knew
Step outside the hood, look around, don’t be shy
Then buy a one-way Greyhound ticket, say bye bye
At the start it might feel hard, but give it a chance
You’ll be surprised what you find, just take that first glance

Tough neighbourhood street
Corrupt badges on the beat
Planting dope, selling candy at the corner shop
Writing songs, tagging everywhere, if you dare
Doin’ time, enter from behind, I never, I swear
Come out on parole, new king on throne, lost all control
If I had my time again, I’d save a lot more, forget ‘bout toys
Look over my shoulders, stick to the plan, escape from the boys
Max Neumann  Aug 2021
Rockfall
Max Neumann Aug 2021
splinter of existence creepin' thru skin
when judgement day is scarin' ya guys
temples beatin' 888 beats per minute
as dreams of shelter be passin' by

remember merciless bob, the hyena?
used to shoot bullets like rashid stoogie
always mind da project's family tree, b
watts to frankfurt via lima, diz how we be

brothaz, almans, multihood, escalade in chrome
osmans *** some, naber abi, bana parayi ver
you won't survive the massacre of greed
palms grow inside frankfurt's wildlife

GBS, TPB, LA MINA, HOLZI, NORDI, BOKI
dey be too fierce for dem knocko boys
no jammin', silver colts in montenegro
special forces, dejan, heroine, grenades

choki predicted da richness, we be floatin'
ari goldman tower, sandstone, platinum coke
yugos, habibis, moruks, almans, pashto
marokks, habeshas, albans and kurds

man bites dog, anti-traitor, snares
lacerated cable, flashdeath in red and blue
palermo, cosa nostra, secret shipment
da antagonist be chained 'gainst ya brain, bro

we tear up pavements since we rule da planet
massacres, new age, 36ers, crenshaw, headrush
day of vendetta bros, senait forgot how to *** back
street dust be what ya smellin' in da projectz

bent body, similar to deceased city doves
her soul be glintin' among da 5-0 sirens
large scale operation, silverblack corpses
black dots in front of ya eyes, sista

harlem river houses, homeshadows, dough
the ghetto raises fierce and bloodthirsty men
2 for 60, flip it into 90 and mind the cut, kwame
ya peeps gotta eat, and don't forget youse momz

let's build towers from all dem stacks, luv bellywood
our camouflage be immaculate like 90% pure
rides on champagne in times of evil blood
we light up the night and rightfully keep turf

our home be 36 souls away, slums and the hamptons
in the kitchen, da fiend's addiction is boiling
e guitar sounds, we overrun ya people
and don't ya fear jail, we reign institutionz
Arcassin B Oct 2014
WSQF:
Battle of the Bands

tonight we jam, it's the battle of the bands
there's smoke on the stage ....***** on the stands
smoke in the rafters, from puffin live
this crowd is ready to rock and jive

AB:

One guitar in hand,
Calling you out animantium plans,
Of having rocktastic fans,
Tattoos and silver lens,
Naked babies,
Naked babies,
Naked babies.

WSQF:

this joint is rockin'
and we be jammin'
some slam dance ritual
and hip hop breakin'
who's gonna take it?
who's gonna take it?
alright...take it to the bridge!

AB:

There is no stoppin what we doin,
Do you smell us when were cookin,
Serving you a hot plate this funkalicious music,
Some old skool flava,
Let us see if you can take it,
All you gotta bop it , move it ,break it,

WSQF:

gonna run some crazy riffs across your brain
sweet heavy metal ..drive you insane
step up the action
raise the stakes
let's see if you got what it takes

AB:

Lead guitarist,
Got a jazzy a vocal,
Bass solos and drums knockin in your ear holes,
Fresh lyrics on a platter,
Cut up nicely,
In to pieces of rock heaven,
Its time to get godly,

WSQF:

home boyz gonna kick it
take it to the next plateau
while your jammin'...face dancer
play those licks real slow
the soul of creation
right there in your hands
this pure fusion..the battle of the bands!
Me and the legend of rock
jeffrey conyers Jan 2013
Yeah, you.
This day is going to be our day.
Yes, we.
We gonna jam until the morning comes.
Or until the cops knocks upon the door.

And when the lights goes down.
We're gonna be jammin' some more.

It's gonna be, a jam session of love.

With the Ohio Players playin' in the back ground.
I can't wait to see you get down.
With Earth, Wind and Fire followin' behind.
It's a clue for us to have some quiet time.

And any noise being made.
Don't worry.
We know the noise makers of the noise.

It might be mine.
It might be yours.

It's comin' from our jam session of love.

Listen to Kool and the Gang talkin' about Celebration.
Which we're doing without hestitation.
Listen to the Commodores singin' Just To Be Close To You.

As we enjoy the mood of one another.

We might throw in Chairmen of the Board in the end.
But then again.
It might be the Rolling Stones.

You'll never know.
When we're jammin' our way to love.

The music is just for easin' the situation.
For we aware of what we're doin' as the night passes

We're jammin'.
We're lovin'.
We're kissin'.
We're huggin'.
Brent Kincaid  Sep 2015
BAD RAP
Brent Kincaid Sep 2015
I pity anyone visiting us with
A language besides English;
Who tries to understand the words
We like to use with relish.
We seem to say so many words
Just to keep our lips busy.
It occurs to me the so much of it
Has never graced a dictionary.

Upscaling, downsizing
Offloading the whole magilla
The whole nine yards, bottom liine
The big honcho, the whole enchilada
I was completely plussed and then
I had my self a hissy fit
I didn't know I had a flabber,
'Til someone went and gasted it.

Hanging out, kicking back
Into myself and whatever
***** it, man. I am like, wow.
And y'know, yodda yodda yodda.
Some mean kinda fudpucker
Betcher bippees, yabba dabba doo.
Mazoomas and headlights,
Totally hyped megabitch, too.

Talkin' about 'sup bro
Stufflike windas and winders.
Jammin and gittin widdit
And sumpinbout pillas and pillers.
So, I goes and he goes,
And I'm all jazzed and by golly.
It really rocks, rad to the max
Get down to some serious party.

Sixes an sevens, p's and q's
What's your point? Get real!
It's pretty much a ******
So, what's the big deal?
Too much, I mean it's tough,
And stuff, and really far out, man.
Twenty three skiddo old bean.
Just a flash in the pan.
It *****. It blows, It bites, big time
A wicked righteous mindfuck.
Get jiggy with it. Kiss my crank;
Slob my ****, Lord Love-a-duck.
I be jammin down da beach
When I heard da pastor preach
"Baatiboys stay far from we!" he yell
"Baatiboys will burn in hell!"
He take a drag from the spliff
He jam out a reggae riff
"Excuse I" I say
"You should be on your way"

The spliff be shaped like a ****
He light it with tha bic
Baatiboy wink at me
His last wink that'll be

I rise up like Jah
I smack him in da jaw
Da spliff be fallin'
Da baatiboy be bawling'

He runnin' away cryin'
But this baatiboy gonna be dyin'

Pull out tha chopper
BAWH BRAP BRAP POW drop er'
Pastor be cheering
At the baatiboys I'm sneering

Stay off me beach
The views expressed in this piece do not reflect the views of FOX news or its affiliates

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