"django" poems
Mama couldn't save me, daddy did so he couldn't raise me
I'm still tripping off them hoes that played me
Same ******* fronting on me when I had my baby
It's crazy, and ****** say they made me
Taking credit from my mama, **** amaze me
How ****** talking down when I'm not around
But every time I'm in the building, schhh, not a sound
I line my haters up and clap them down
That choppa have ***** dancing like he Bobby Brown
I'm well-respected in my city, even out of town
And don't ever tuck my chain
***** how that sound? How that look?
We don't live by the book, we just live by the code
A lot of ****** got exposed when feds came through
They was dropping names too
****** say I changed up but I'm with the same crew
I was always told to get the money and remain you
Never let these ***** ****** tell you what you can't do
Every time they said that I left, that was when I came through
Range new, .38 special when the flame blew
Just in case I gotta flame you
What a feeling when them people tryna frame you
Lock you in a cell when detain you
Rather die before I go out working like I'm Django
I'm gone...
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
long live your rivals
for one is your idol
buddha is my jesus
and dharma is the bible
now what i have up here
is something new to your ears
actually listen to me
now let me begin
write a new rhyme
man find a new sound
you can't even believe
this **** that i found
all these things on my mind
everyday
they make me drown
in my thoughts
everyway
my imagination wonders
around all over the place
think about the universe
how did man begin to learn in this space
i'll go on about the mysteries later in time
cus i'm slightly ashamed of myself
i believe in all these things
my momma can't perceive
things my momma can't can't even believe
i shouldn't worry about what she thinks
*** i'm just doing what i do
i'm being all that i can be
but i can' help but think
that i keep on making julie drown deep in my thoughts
i just can't stop and think i'm lettin julie down
down to somewhere we never should have been
*** i can' help but think
that i keep on making julie drown in my thoughts
long live your rivals
for one is your idol
Karma is my jesus
and Buddha wrote the bible
now what i have up here
is something new to your ears
actually listen to me
now let me begin
listen to what i say
no you don't believe
*** man i'm slighlty insane
i may have to say
the acid opened up my mind
to all the things
that man cannot explain
but people looking down
*** the man hides the truth
from the masses
for what they claim
is for the good of us all
but in reality
its just misconstrued
perception
they want you to believe
but you know i always dream
what is reality
spend my whole days
only to realize
theories, ideas and such
nothing concrete
only things to think sublimely
when a mind feels ashamed
you just need a signal
to release all these gains
django unchained
metaphor of simple self contain
let me to believe
that everything that i conceive
is just a method
that leads to compassionate leave
letting julie down is no relief
its just brings pain to my soul
everything that i perceive
long live your rivals
for one is your idol
Shiva is my jesus
mother earth wrote the bible
now what i have up here
is something new to your ears
actually listen to me
let me begin
Long Live your rivals
for one is your idol
the space is my jesus
and the time wrote a bible
now what i have up here
is something new to your ears
actually listen to me
let me begin
Long live your rivals
for one is your idol
Reality is my jesus
perception wrote the bible
now what I have up here
is something new to your ears
I hope you listened to me
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
Ko Ko to Go Go
a prelude to a kiss
dance with Chubby Checker
lift a slo gin fizz
Head bobs to Be Bop
flip the B Side now
mellowtune in monotone
two ears for stereo wow!
Wonderment of Duke and Miles
swinging kool birthin boplicity
urban crush the hipsters rush
jazz joints cross the city
Firery sax emote a clash
strain ears of credulity
Lester leaps creative heat
nips harden on my *******
Max taps exotic wax
Django's quick pickin
finger snaps flip my lid
lips deliciously sippin
Eurozone a Zen zone
a blue infinitive smokin
big peeps dig don pink wigs
fat spliffs hot token
My new suede shoes
walks west end blues
Pop's cornet got me tippin
his open blast first to last
I like cornbread, barbecue
and fine home jazz cookin
jbm
Oakland
3/12/10
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 6:41 PM UTC
She ain't never **** a black boi but she use the word *****
And Her blk home girls give her the encouragement to pull that trigger
Born in the hills but addicted to the hood
I'm her curse and blessing man this ***** is always up to no good
Blue eye devil who love the dark skin
She said she never had it so deep when a ***** went in
She drive listen to legends biggie hov and Rudeboi
She told me she was looking for her pleaser stick so I just nibble her like a chew toi
Snap backs and Jordan's She's a ***** for retail
She got that white girl syndrome but cursed by the black details
Hello to the west end she went and add her best friend
Slave to the lifestyle but she know she will never fit in
Banded by color but my girl went ratchet
When she Confirm the fair-tale of food stamps and welfare Status
Racist antics but she defer the approach
Cuz her white friends can't understand what her blk friends don't
Family of mix feelings her dad told her no
Mama said be your self and get to know the unknown
I give her the face of a sign that saids do not enter
Becuz what you think you wanna no is better if you won't remember
But in the false claim we built into better bitter lovers
So lesson is always learn never judge a book by its cover
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 1:10 AM UTC
I like my simple way of writing
It represents who I am
And who I sometimes want to be
I like the way I think, I’ve found a certain freedom in it
But that freedom exists nowhere else
Not in any ***** nor sinew nor bone
Django is a free slave.
Too long I’ve been feeling like a trail gone cold
Pull me by the back of my throat, rest in the bed of my bones
And call me home
Because I’m lost, and maybe I just want to be found.
- Kata
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
how i forget to cherish
these little moments
of our togetherness;
making an early meal
of sauteed vegetables
and eggs, "froached"
like i used to call them
when i was your little
chef and would bring
you breakfast on
special occasions,
and sometimes on
sundays, just because
it was sunday and dad
didn't have to leave
for work long before
the crack of dawn
even set its alarm.
we'd all sit in bed
together, squished
into sharing a cozy
comfort, sandwiched
between you two
and my old buddy
gladly the bear who
still sits on your bed
upstairs in his pink-
and-green striped
shirt.
but then i guess
somewhere along
the way i grew up;
the move happened--
i didn't visit gladly
anymore, or you
for that matter.
today you asked
me to get the big
jar -- the carnation
(top)
jar, from the
shelf of the kitchen
cabinet while i
explained my
oddly convoluted
thought process,
and we talked
about how my
granddad danced
you down the aisle
to django on a whim
of a kooky family friend,
and how i finally
realized how little
i actually know of you--
but that's normal.
i might be growing
up now, and i
might not visit
that little bear
anymore, but
what i never
really told you,
or anyone,
is that i have
my own now,
a blue one who
used to be called
blueberry, renamed
as joseph stalin,
because i'm a
big boy now,
and my sense
of humor dried
out long ago.
i may not be
your little chef
anymore, but
i can still make
you breakfast,
and bring it
to your bed on
sundays, and
sit with gladly,
and quietly chat
until late morning
like we used to
(never) do.
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 6:01 PM UTC
I pried the Words off the Wall
Rearranged and used them All
Stacked upon each other in
A sentence Said with Style
Coco Chanel And Ert'e Flaunt
Lesbian Fashion In chic Paris Haunts,
In the 1920s, While Albert Camus
Late Night Parties Extistentialist Claims
*Amid ****** and Champage*
Django Rienhardt Played Jazz Guitar
To the West Bank Artists in Bars,
Toulouse Lautrec had Drank
With Prostitutes, in Art Deco
Frank Loyd Wright Praised
In Architect Circles
How He has Designed
The Unfolding of the Future
The Camera Has Brought
Sharp Images to see
While emergence of Psychology
Has driven Art into the Abstract
Paris in the 20's scent of
Hedonist Creativity
Cultural Gravity
To the Inclined
De rien, entre amis
Prende un jour a la fois
All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 3:39 AM UTC
The world is darker than it’s ever been and deeper than my life is anything but fair skin a nation divided by one thing that ties to another thing that ties to another and that one thing is what ties me to a dear friend that I call my brother
This hue I was cursed with I mean this shade I was born with I mean this tone that I was blessed with, Sometimes I’m even confused myself on what kind of gift this tinted skin is for me
I know we come from Kings whose land is rich in gold and other imperial things
But if I may be so bold or brave to say that even now white people still know how to make my people feel as if they are still enslaved
We’re stuck in a hole a certain way of living , a certain way of thinking “the mission of life is to get money the fast way even if it is the ski mask way" only thinking about the right now willing to predict the next 5 years of your life to fill what’s not in your pockets all cause you gotta get the money gotta get the money gotta get the money gotta get the money gotta get the money but you end up with no money plus ain’t nothing funny when your days ain’t sunny and your little sonny is born and you are still reaping the benefits from making your piece of change
Even if it’s not in our heads some white people never changed their minds about the way they feel about this skin tone of mine
I am Trayvon … one night I was riding my bike with a handful of my friends moving from spot to spot as we followed our plans and we had a personal escort that followed us for about a mile but he didn’t say hi or stop to ask for directions it just seems like they get off or get an ******** from putting blacks back in the chains we were once in
I am Django … young black dude no chains bro contractually assassinating to get all that I live for and showing the my community that there is a better way to live
The night is dark but in due time it will change we need to mentally put down these chains and make way toward the North Star especially in the midst of the rain, But it’s hard to believe pleasure in a life full of pain
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 3:13 PM UTC
The u-turn of uninterrupted talk
Falls short before the midnight hour
And through the remembrances
The hushed
Echoing of a printed face smiles
Among the old and new.
But only you know he has gone,
For your heart is broken
And thrown about the room
Where your old man's chair sits alone....
Where you once shared
A laugh and a joke,
A tear and a smoke,
A kiss and a hug,
A poem and a mug
Of tea,
(With a wee dram of Glenmorangie)
On a cold night
By the firelight,
Reading Frost
- 'The Grindstone'
In candlelight,
Listening to Django Reinhardt's
'Crazy Rhythm'
On the radio
As it beats out a frenetic system
Of notes that runs and parts
Into segments of your mind.
Now you are on your own,
You sit back to find
What you have lost....
©Jack Aylward,
July 2013
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
a twist of legs, a sort of side jump shadow
getting wild behaviour to its happy roots
no-body can resist to this merry-go-round
virus
“amour” is the only word remained in his dictionary
the only drink accepted in his clans like a shard
of life sparkling greater than the sun itself
ashy
moustache hides a strange confidence when
lifted from the always-filled glass
with potion called
manouche
in the eyes of Lewis he caresses
the immortal chords
© Marius Surleac
Apr 30, 2010
Apr 30, 2010 at 9:59 AM UTC
I left my heart in our broken city
deep beneath the dark and crushing sea
In the cold and crumbled streets
where you and I used to run and hide.
We'd stick each other with syringes,
and ****** black eyed waifs
from off the backs of violent giants.
Set them free for a taste of their blood.
We'd listen to Django and Stephanie
on that old Victrola,
while we snacked on chips
and drank pilfered gin
from the busted Circus of Values.
Because, your tightwad *******
brother, couldn't spare a dime.
I still have that snapshot,
of you with your Tommy gun
mowing down splicers,
a puddle of Eve at your feet.
Where did we go wrong?
Was it in the half-flooded sections,
were we hid from Ryan's rampage,
before he made me smash his skull.
Or was it that last gene tonic we split,
after the reactor went supernova.
Somebody Rapture me, already.
I wasn't made to last anyway, my lovely.
I just wish I could have lived long enough
to see the girls grow up,
under the cerulean and cream sky.
But, all dreams are destined to die,
the fire and freakshow was fun
while the liquor and shotgun shells lasted
The only thing I know for sure,
is that what they call freedom
is just Dystopia waiting to happen.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 1:20 PM UTC
RECORD: LIFE'S A BEACH
FROGMAN: DJANGO DJANGO
It's only after you've lost everything, that
YOU'RE FREE
to do anything.
-- Tyler Durden, Tacky Frogman
Suzy's: Indeed, a lesson that might help one to burn off
How dangerous the acquirement of data is
and how much clappier those Brads and Janets might be
whom believe their native thought to be The Word,
than one who aspires to be greater
than their creader will allow.
-- Victor Frankenstein, Suzy
Dr. Everett Scott: Janet!
Janet: Dr. Scott!
Brad: Janet!
Janet: Brad!
Frank: Rocky Bottom!
[Rocky frunts]
Dr. Everett Scott: Janet!
Janet: Dr. Scott!
Brad: Janet!
Janet: Brad!
Frank: Rocky Bottom!
[Rocky frunts]
All-Present!
STOP: TURN THOUGHT
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 3:13 PM UTC
White walls.
Plenty of time,
Is what the boy thinks.
He can't swim
But he jumps in the pool
And hopes he doesn't sink.
The pool has white walls.
Blankness is what I see.
Being able to create what I want
I see things that others do not.
At least that is what I think.
To me they are ghost that haunt.
Me
I see myself
Not free
Sometimes
There are things
I cannot see.
White walls in the jail cells
But one wall is pure bars.
I am a caged beast.
Those people there
who call me friend
know me the least.
I say what I mean.
Do what I say.
As soon as I hear the beat.
I live for dreams.
The ones I cannot control.
Which is why I love to fall asleep.
On these walls I see my flaws.
My flaws create my past pain.
Looking at these walls keep me from changing.
200 years ago
I could have had it worse
And would have been slaving.
No I'm not Django
Or even Jamie Foxx.
I am more of a Jaden Smith.
Why?
Because they don't understand my drift.
But I do
That's all that really matters
Understanding self
First
Priority.
I may be jading quickly
Turning into a white wall.
Pale
Blank
Silent
Unless I express myself.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
The cue - the cue - the cue
for a joyful entry
Django on your radio
lures him dancing through the door
and your face plays and portrays brilliant colours
with the laughter of a spirit
being momentarily freed
from the sadness of it's earthly shackles.
Oct 12, 2010
Oct 12, 2010 at 1:33 PM UTC
with what you had in your hands was simply
an ellipsis to emptiness. Hands can only carry
very little weight.
and to have been caught in a virulent string
of your Decembering noontime air – was it,
just birds spry and singing or was it
a wreathe of girls surrounding the *****
back to how it was to create light out
of primitive engines?
once it capitalizes, we are caught in this
small circle. often retained, the detritus of
such duel: once ripples are May and
initialed the reprise of springtime,
yet here we are only tropics, and cancer,
and the heat is too much as to bear
charge, your tired, sleuthing dog Django.
rasp for the lift, was it before the collapse
when both a yawn and a dance trembled
into /stillness/
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
cant even sleep,I've got thoughts running through ma head, like a whole streak of, disarranged bits
can't even think straight ,thinking so hard to even write this lyrics
unusual of me even with inspiration
feel like am writing my own story but emptying ma soul
it's like am living the lives of other people with ma self gazing from afar
locked up ,but i Django,in the jungle of my cross puzzled mind
like a twisted crown of thorns of Jesus ,suppressing my salvation
mi casa es su casa ,but am treated like a mutating tenant.
The world crumpling ,rumbling in ma mind ,high tidal waves
washing every happy memory i can find
don't mess with me cos you get smoked out by my troubles
loki divine ,misinterpreted,interlocked,inter-coined.
soulless lyrics only the dead can decipher
knowledge of the so called wise men is stupidity before God
so you see the world is ruled by stupid precepts ,so i free my mind
we don't make mistakes,but i say we took and mistook opportunities
okay i feel like am writing a story ,no but an advice ,not love ,
neither hate ,not fiction or non fiction but i think its your to decide
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 8:11 AM UTC
I lay in bed listening to My Funny Valentine.
The soft tremble of the trumpet filled my ears
And I forgot, in that instant, what it was to be sad.
I drifted away from worry and consciousness
With an undying desire to be loved without risk of regret.
I let the bass pound in my head like a heartbeat
Tuning my soul to a melody of tranquility.
I closed my eyes and pictured the sound
With waves of light undulating in the darkness
Of my mind as a pathway to the new day ahead.
I drifted to sleep to the sounds of Django and Chet
Letting go of the things I always hold too tightly.
And as the piano tickled my ears in my last cognizant moments
I remember why I put on the music in the first place
And with one seed of thought it was over.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
The cat licks it's ***
While the mice run free
The menu music plays
For ratatouille on DVD
I’m to lazy to press play
I'd rather listen to django
And watch the cat lick it's ***
I wonder if any of the mice know how to cook if that's a
skill that can only be learned by rats
The menu loops again
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 8:19 PM UTC
RECORD: DEFAULT
FROGMAN: DJANGO DJANGO
May I never be complete.
May I never be content.
MAY I NEVER BE PREFECT.
-- You and Me and Everyone We See
Frank: Do you think I made a mistake splitting
The Mind between the three of them?
(Johnny's: Perhaps, but it Toes the Line.)
Frank: Oh, I just love success!
Riff Raff: it's a credit to your Confusion, Master.
Frank: Yes!
Magenta: A triumph of your Caged Will.
Frank: Yes!
Columbia: He's okay!
Frank: Okay? Okay? I think we can do better than that!
Well, Brad and Janet, what do you think of him?
Janet: Well, I don't like wild stings with too many hustles.
Frank: I didn't make him for you!
He carries The Qculoween's Trademark Seal of Approval!
Johnny's and Suzy's: Approval threw the method
of yet another dinstinctual
half-greed inception.
Out of sight,
I know enough to know that I am nothing.
In spite of that,
I do know that for the empathy of one thinking being,
I would brache peace with all.
I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine
and rage the likes of which you could not relieve.
If I can satisfy The One,
my will involves The Other!
-- WhYoUMbanner's Monster, Tacky Frogman
STOP: TURN THOUGHT
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 5:09 PM UTC
Still a dangerous emcee once I set my feet in the industry
Exposing used to be homies now they wanna kill.me
But can't still.me I keep the techs on me
Just incase I gotta capture another soul makin' eternity
Placin' urns round me Cuz they soon to burn
To ashes smoke the greenest grass from Shannon Ireland
This captain ain't hiring
only killers I be admirin' y'all flows expirin'
Once the sirens sounding another Emcees gets a pounding
Heads covered with ***** plastic bags
Poked holes soon to be drowning
Fools tellin' jokes but you don't see me clowning
Only money and guns I trust so that's my surrounding
A King like Arthur I be the author
Sealin' emcees chapter takes notes for the rapture
Kidnapped ya team flashplay scenes Bones become fractured
Once I roll over weak emcees like a tractor
Major factor to this game
We ain't no actors
Flippin' heads With my metal spatula
Communicating to y'all with the street vernacular
My personality evil as Mallory
Natural born killers
Intincts is what inspires me
Who better than me?
My flows poisonous like Ivy
Got more brothers than Isley
Summer breeze with me
Heat is what ya catching from me
My guns Rip through skin cells so rapidly
Paint murders so vividly graphically
They'll remember me I'll be
Notorious like B-I-G
Fools dry lookin' all thirsty
Sips bottles of the Dom Perry
**** Governor Perry we bake more dough than Pillsbury
Rolls so know ya role or else get the barrel to ya temple
Executions made Iraqi style so how?
You gone disconnect the dial?
Deaths is callin' soon to be fallin'
With the rest of the Angels
That we had to fuckin' strangle
Don't matter the point or angle
Fools chained like Django hop in the Black Tahoe we got deals for sure
I'm.hustlin night and day like Al B Sure
We choke out competition like Latrell
Make heaven out of hell never see a jail cell
Money lookin' too good I'm feelim' Richie
Chillin' at the top mobbin' like Big Paulie
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 8:52 PM UTC
I am django,
Fighting for the life you do not want to see,
Nor a life curved like a mango.
But a life I want to feel.
I am django,
Fighting to be me.
Dec 26, 2019
Dec 26, 2019 at 2:31 PM UTC
to the one who played django reinhardt for me on vinyl,
who cooked me pancakes and bacon for breakfast,
who gave human names to the animals at the zoo,
who senses thunder in the air before it happens,
who made me try sponge candy and coffee and good indian food,
who bought me a candy bar with a poem on the wrapper --
on the bus ride back (all 8 hours) I couldn't stop thinking about you
and when I fell asleep, I dreamed of you immediately,
missing you already before I'd even made it home
you're the opposite of everything I'm supposed to want and you're not easy to explain
we run out of things to talk about (or perhaps there's too much to say)
i'm afraid to reach for your hand under the table, to sleep next to you in the bed instead of curling up at the end, or to lean my head on your shoulder, nervous because I don't quite know where I stand
and it's still enough, in an easy, sunday-morning, pajamas kind of way. it's enough to be with you without having anything to say, to drink orange juice from a coffee mug, the electric precipice of wanting to know the answer yet being afraid to ask the question
i wonder if i'll ever stop being afraid of myself --
that i'm too shy, too quiet, too boring,
with nothing that could hold you,
no magnetic field, no gravitational orbit to keep you
you, who is infinitely magnetic.
but how can I want to keep you when I don't even know
what it is that we are?
to the one who grabbed my hand in the parking lot even though your parents were with us,
who let me sleep in your bed while you took the couch,
who looked at me with sleepy eyes and said "come here,"
to that one, the only one --
as long as you keep asking,
i'll always come.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 6:39 PM UTC
This road to recovery is quite long,
at times I feel so far gone,
life would rock in a band,
friend's lend a hand in quicksand,
had to learn this fact the hard way.
Failed the city,
got struck by an arrow,
the plot took an olive twist,
thought I had thick skin,
I didn't check my marrow,
I became blind to the sparrow,
so I pirated my chest's treasure,
the problem was not the problem,
hard to integrate broken parts,
deceit hides in the arts.
Playing catch-up,
lost the sauce,
cos now the defects are patent,
tan wears off away from the sun,
would be pointless to dress it up,
sin's proved real and so has satin.
Maybe I was shadow boxing,
fighting on the wrong hill,
perhaps this dark night isn't so serious,
maybe I should just chill,
should I ruminate those net flics?
Glad not to have a credit card,
my ledger would not balance,
life is turning to a heath,
some melancholic saga,
acted like a rugrat,
you could hear me going gaga,
played facebook like poker,
seems I played the joker,
was supposed to be a man,
became a cimbwi no plan.
Went ghost to being holy,
I didn't see the flying phantoms,
the wrestle is not a royal rumble,
man's never been hot though he looked warm.
right here before your eyes,
either a warrior will rise,
or another king will take an impending tumble.
Django's unchained gotta pick up what remains.
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 8:35 PM UTC