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Me waiting for Reggae class to start.
Ohno I gotta ****.
Me grab me *******
and make a loud squeek
so beautiful, twas like art.
Reggae = art.
**** = art.
Reggae = ****.
Me in da wrong place at da wrong time.
Headin' down da alley on me way to pick up me 'erb.
Suddenly, Big Boy 'pears round da corner.


Da Big Boy grabs me and take me lunch money.
'ow am I gunna get me 'erb now?
He beats me like me papa did.
Jus when Big Boy gonna trow da final punch...


Da boys arrive for battle.
Spliffs in der mouts.
Vengeance in der eyes.
TruckerWithAPassionForReggae grabs da Big Boy.
'olds 'im down n saves me reggae life.
Blunt Blastah Mastah punches da Big Boy.
Don touch me boombastic buddy he says.
DertyBeatzFromDaStreetz goes in for da **** with a ***** reggae kick.
Reggae Mon Offishal gets me kush cash back.
Me in da clear.

We killed a man, but our flame of friendship burnt bright that night.
Like our spliffs, the light was jus' right, mon.
I'd like to thank the accademy for my reggae king nomination. I'd also like to thank the reggae boys, because without you, my reggae dreams would never become a reality. God bless you Isis.
Michelle Ang  Apr 2013
Michelle Ang Apr 2013
That earth spirit

black, dark, flame flickering at the end of the tunnel
i appreciate our ancestors who took care of the soles of their feet

that feet rooted to the earth

that spirit rooted within the body underneath the skin

the soul is not separate from the body
butoh cries out in the darkness for a dance

there is a silent scream

then a piercing sound, you see a Woman's body as she convulses on the ground

you notice the beautiful tendons and muscles in the back and thighs of this one male dancer

Ohno's hands are veiny and paper thin and utterly divine the way it ripples

butoh spirit to the ground and I find my journey for that way of life
starts with taking care of the soles of my feet

Duende and that color black
one step and you won't come back
insomniatrical  Aug 2018
insomniatrical Aug 2018
I made a mistake,
An awful, terrible mistake.
I didn't think it through,
And now I'm full of hate.
For me, for you,
I don't know what to do.

I know that I was stupid,
I didn't quite think through it.
It was late at night,
I didn't think I'd do it.
And now I'm full of fright,
Because it wasn't right.

I made a stupid choice.
I should have used my voice.
I should have used my head,
I should have had some poise.
So now I feel a dread,
And all I see is red.
25 August 18
Andrew Tinkham  Sep 2015
Andrew Tinkham Sep 2015
Art, baby.
Art... bebe.
ART! Darlin'.
Mil tiempo.
Ohno onoway.
I'm in LOVE!
For a genius you don't know.
Christina Fong Apr 2020
made sure mama recorded the new episode
of sailor moon every afternoon
my eighth grade euphoria got me through homework
love and justice were worth the wait
couldn't discuss my obsession of tuxedo mask
with my friends until school the next day
i had their numbers memorized but never dared call
unless it was about homework
even then i digested my heartbeat when their parents answered
the phone

in those days the popular girls would write lyrics
backstreet or nsync
battled over which was better by
displaying their fandom on the front covers of their
three-ring binders
while i took 3 hours on aol
waiting to download and print pictures
of apolo ohno and michelle kwan
and some pretty boy actor
whose name i don't remember

my friends wrote letters in a morning glory-like
journal we exchanged between us
once a week
the secrets of our heart
random roaming thoughts
current obsessions
eye candy crushes
in fifth period
whatever happened to that journal?
i think it's in a box under my bed

i took a snapshot of us
under the shade of our lunchtime tree
senior year of high school
the last time i used a camera to document
a single moment in time
before instant came into being
before selfies were a thing
and delay faded
a forgotten dream
Storage on overload
Its panic mode
I'm slow like molasses
In the cold
My *** is froze.
See how fast it grows
Individual decisions
Like slivers hope.
My little nose.
My little toes.
My pinching throat.
Like mini morphing rangers
From the center
Of my temple flow
This instrumental
Mental like recession from control
And investment
In the death. Of ghetto Joe.
Lessons known
To make messages appear with
The heavens home
Get to know the
Death the life the festival
Of dia de las Muertos
And the mortal bones
Of selfish poems
Encrypted with the jealous yet deadly knowing of a little soul
Existing in a mental hole
Equipped with weapons.
Drastically making
Molasses flow.
Like a degrassi episode
Can drake dance
Crip walk
With damaged limbs
You'll never know
Aye its return to ghetto Joe
**** that thougb

— The End —