An owed to you, master of the whitewashed office plaster,
Ruler of the water cooler,
Owner of the blue BMW i8 in the parking lot
Employed only to yourself.

In the morning, awake, spread the pomade
You bought at Neimann's just two months ago.
Unplug your car from the wall,
Hero of the Earth,
And get on the oily congested highway, talking on the phone of sales goals
And what office snack will be available today.

Quarter report, possible acquisition?
Lead your men to greener pastures
Where fields of Benjamins await your innovations
Like a modern-day Valhalla.

But it is wise to remember
that if you spend your days
taking calls
Life won’t get past the busy tone.

"Have you ever noticed
how we are always climbing
but never getting
anywhere?

up glass-sheered avocations
and suits with bonus ties—

up **** with temperamental husbands
and secretaries with Monroe thighs—?"

It was a rhetorical question, uncannily rhymed, in the wake of
Collinses. But he didn't know that.

"We are always climbing on
what other backs have built:
the greedy gringos and their
brown-backed buey—

but i'm for Scotch and soda
anyway."

He poured out spirits like amphoras of sin.

"Oh, never mind the mess—
please, sit down.

What's that?

The mess of lives, I mean, or whatever
it is that greases the greenbacked highway
to the corner office coronation."

He knew the prodigal flames that lit the
corporate torch—the cirque
that stood in steel. He said as much:

"Oh what a monstrous architecture
of avarice! What a makeshift it is
and so much lost for all these stacks of
stuff. Sad."

I pointed to the happy pair of smiles in a
company frame. Levity interrupted.

"What's that now?

No, i've been married three times,
divorced a perfect three.

I know what you're thinking—"

And here, he laughed as he slurried his rusty brown transgressions with an index finger.

"—lucky man, he slipped the shackle
three times.

And sure, I'm dynamite by numbers
but ******* say I'm not all that nice."

"So anyway," awkwardly pivoting his grease to grin,

"you'll take the job then,
and I'll be commandeering your soul?" With a ****-******* smirk.

"It's a joke, of course—I can't just give you the job.
You'll have to show me you can climb—"

Starry-eyed empty ensued. It was enough to see
the rungs permutating above his head. Unclimbed.

"But we'll be in touch about opportunities—" he shook.
"You know—**** and stuff."

I didn't have the heart to tell him that I am, and always will be,
a homosexual.

(Inspired by Kendrick Lamar)

Whacked or weepiness?
Sing if you know this,
Well~ yuh, yuh.



Hey, I recall when every months with zero-balance-curse,

Therefore I live my life with what I fit, but today I’m so ******,

When everyone gets what their want; In fact, I never wish,

I choose drink mix while you choose Crème de cassis to rid live’s blemish,

Son, the richest man never get outta debt hub,

Duh, compare to you with just one luckless credit card?

So let’s be rich with heart and do something bigger than Tesla,

Do read on my blog, then write it down or by heart at least,

Zero-to-the-hero, hero-to-the-pro punk,

a person who used to be dumb, dumped in the **** junk,

now 6 figures in the bank, I still like yesterday’s punk,

If you got this in the bank, promise to be like an old punk,

my life’s better than my virile,

my future promise me how I rolled,

Hey Mount. E, wait for me to reach your highest spot,

but I’m just play cool to it, cuz you know



Beast’s humble,

Sweet lown,

Be hierodule,

throw your crown.

I've never been fond
of the colour red.
I found it loud,
inexhaustible.
Arrogant.
I felt small around red,
an anger
that I was neither loud,
inexhaustible,
nor arrogant.

I found a home
in grey
and they called me
the grey woman,
equal parts white,
and black.
Neither here,
nor there.
Quiet,
passive,
contemplative.

How does
a grey woman
navigate a world
built for red men?

I met a man,
who was a fan
of Pink Floyd
who reminded me
that pure white
is a rainbow
and from then
I no longer saw grey
as equal parts
white and black.

Now I paint
my nails red
and lay down beside
that Pink Floyd man
every night.

He reminds me of red.
That's why I like him.