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Bunhead17 Nov 2013
[Intro: Big Sean]
I look up
Yeah and I take my time, *****
I'mma take my time, whoa
Power moves only, *****

[Verse 1: Big Sean]
Boy I'm 'bout my business on business, I drink liquor on liquor
I had women on women, yeah that's bunk bed *******
I've done lived more than an eighty year old man still kickin'
Cause they live for some moments, and I live for a livin'
But this for the girls who barely let me get to first base
On some ground ball ****
Cause now I run my city on some town hall ****
They prayin' on my *******' downfall *****, like a drought, but
You gon' get this rain like it's May weather
G.O.O.D. Music, Ye weather
Champagne just tastes better
They told me I never boy, never say never
Swear flow special like an infant's first steps
I got paid then reversed debts
Then I finally found a girl that reverse stress
So now I'm talkin' to the reaper to reverse death
Yep, so I can kick it with my granddad, take him for a ride
Show him I made somethin' out myself and not just tried
Show him the house I bought the fam, let him tour inside
No matter how far ahead I get, I always feel behind
In my mind, but **** tryin' and not doin'
Cause not doin' is somethin' a ***** not doin'
I said **** tryin' and not doin'
Cause not doin' is somethin' a ***** not doin'
I grew up to Em, B.I.G. and Pac *****, and got ruined
So until I got the same crib B.I.G. had in that Juicy vid
*****, I can't *******' stop movin'
Go against me, you won't stop losin'
From the city where every month is May-Day at home, spray your dome
****** get sprayed up like AK was cologne for a paycheck or loan
Yeah I know that **** ain't fair
They say Detroit ain't got a chance, we ain't even got a mayor
You write your name with a Sharpie, I write mine in stone
I knew the world was for the taking and wouldn't take long
We on, tryna be better than everybody that's better than everybody
Rep Detroit, everybody, Detroit versus everybody
I'm so ******' first class, I could spit up on every pilot
The city's my Metropolis, feel it, it's metabolic
And I'm over ****** sayin' they're the hottest ******
Then run to the hottest ****** just to stay hot
I'm one of the hottest because I flame drop
Drop fire, and not because I'm name dropping, Hall of Fame droppin'
And I ain't takin' **** from nobody unless they're OG's
Cause that ain't the way of a OG
So I G-O collect more G's, every dollar
Never changed though, I'm just the new version of old me
Forever hot headed but never got cold feet
Got up in the game won't look back at my old seats
Clique so deep we take up the whole street
I need a ***** so bad that she take up my whole week, Sean Don

[Bridge: Kendrick Lamar]
Miscellaneous minds are never explainin' their minds
Devilish grin for my alias aliens to respond
Peddlin' sin, thinkin' maybe when you get old you realize
I'm not gonna fold or demise
(I don't smoke crack, ******* I sell it!)
*****, everything I rap is a quarter piece to your melon
So if you have a relapse, just relax and pop in my disc
Don't you pop me no ******* pill, I'mma a pop you and give you this

[Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar]
Tell Flex to drop a bomb on this ****
So many bombs, ring the alarm like Vietnam on this ****
So many bombs, make Farrakhan think that Saddam in this *****
One at a time, I line them up
And bomb on they mom while she watching the kids
I'm in a destruction mode if the gold exists
I'm important like the Pope, I'm a Muslim on pork
I'm Makaveli's offspring, I'm the king of New York
King of the Coast, one hand, I juggle them both
The juggernaut's all in your jugular, you take me for jokes
Live in the basement, church pews and funeral faces
Cartier bracelets for my women friends, I'm in Vegas
Who the **** y'all thought it's supposed to be?
If Phil Jackson came back, still no coachin' me
I'm uncoachable, I'm unsociable, **** y'all clubs
**** y'all pictures, your Instagram can gobble these nuts
Gobble **** up til you hiccup, my big homie Kurupt
This the same flow that put the rap game on a crutch (West x6)
I've seen ****** transform like villain Decepticons
Mollies'll prolly turn these ****** to ******* Lindsay Lohan
A bunch of rich *** white girls looking for parties
Playing with Barbies, wreck the Porsche before you give them the car key
Judgment to the monarchy, blessings to Paul McCartney
You called me a black Beatle, I'm either that or a Marley
(I don't smoke crack, *******, I sell it)
I'm dressed in all black, this is not for the fan of Elvis
I'm aiming straight for your pelvis, you can't stomach me
You plan on stumpin' me? ***** I’ve been jumped before you put a gun on me
***** I put one on yours, I'm Sean Connery
James Bonding with none of you ******, climbing 100 mil in front of me
And I'm gonna get it even if you're in the way
And if you're in it, better run for Pete's sake
I heard the barbershops be in great debates all the time
Bout who's the best MC? Kendrick, Jigga and Nas
Eminem, Andre 3000, the rest of y'all
New ****** just new ******, don't get involved
And I ain't rocking no more designer ****
White T’s and Nike Cortez, this red Corvettes anonymous
I'm usually homeboys with the same ****** I'm rhymin' with
But this is hip-hop and them ****** should know what time it is
And that goes for Jermaine Cole, Big KRIT, Wale
Pusha T, Meek Millz, A$AP Rocky, Drake
Big Sean, Jay Electron', Tyler, Mac Miller
I got love for you all but I'm tryna ****** you ******
Trying to make sure your core fans never heard of you ******
They don't wanna hear not one more noun or verb from you ******
What is competition? I'm trying to raise the bar high
Who tryna jump and get it? You're better off trying to skydive
Out the exit window of 5 G5’s with 5 grand
With your granddad as the pilot he drunk as **** trying land
With the hand full of arthritis and popping prosthetic leg
Bumpin Pac in the cockpit so the **** that pops in his head
Is an option of violence, someone heard the stewardess said
That your parachute is a latex ****** hooked to a dread
West Coast

[Verse 3: Jay Electronica]
You could check my name on the books
I Earth, Wind, and Fire’d the verse, then rained on the hook
The legend of Dorothy Flowers proclaimed from the roof
The tale of a magnificent king who came from the nooks
Of the wild magnolia, mother of many soldiers
We live by every single word she ever told us
Watch over your shoulders
And keep a tin of beans for when the weather turns the coldest
The Lord is our shepherd, so our cup runneth over
Put your trust in the Lord but tether your Chevy Nova
I’m spittin' this **** for closure
And God is my witness, so you could get it from Hova
To all you magicians that’s fidgeting with the cobra
I’m silent as a rock, ‘cause I came from a rock
That’s why I came with the rock, then signed my name on the Roc
Draw a line around some Earth, then put my name on the plot
Cause I endured a lot of pain for everything that I got
The eyelashes like umbrellas when it rains from the heart
And the tissue is like an angel kissin you in the dark
You go from blind sight to hindsight, passion of the Christ
Right, to baskin' in the limelight, it take time to get your mind right
Jay Electricity, PBS mysteries
In a lofty place, tangling with Satan over history
You can’t say **** to me - Alhamdulillah
It’s strictly by faith that we made it this far
This is the lyrics to "Control" by Kendrick Lamar ft. Big Sean ft. Jay Electronica, ****. No I.D ...
I so mad that he dissed half of my favorite rappers and how is it that he dissed Big Sean and Jay Electronica and they're rapping in this song....I don't understand. But i kinda like this song.
Ashley Nov 2013
Doin' a little drinkin' tonight
Doin' a little thinkin' tonight
Smokin' a cig as I sit here and dig inside my head for thoughts of positivity.
Doin' a little soul searchin' tonight
Doin' a little liein' to myself tonight
Tippin' a bottle up and feelin' it burn all the way down to my core.
Doin' a little hurtin' tonight
Doin' a little cryin' tonight
Enhaling smoke and ingesting nicotine with each drag I take.
Fightin' a little battle tonight
Screamin' inside my head tonight
My body is weary my soul distressed and tore.
Doin' a little forgettin' tonight
Doin' a little rememberin' tonight
With each sip I take it feels like such a contradiction of my feelings.
Feelin' a little lost tonight
Feelin' a little tipsy tonight
With each enhale and exhale the more confused I get.
Feelin' a little uncertain tonight
Feelin' a little bitter tonight
How much more of this can I take?
Holdin' on tonight for dear life
Lettin' go tonight for heaven's sake
Every beat of my heart proves I still must endure this life and these feelings.
Wantin' to talk to you tonight
Wantin' to hold you tight tonight
When I feel the cool night breeze on my cheek I snap out of thoughts and back to reality.
Wantin' to run away tonight
Wantin' to stand still tonight
Every star I count is just a wish that won't come true.
Bein' alone tonight
Bein' sad tonight
So I'm gonna try and drink all these thoughts, feelings, and frustrations away tonight.


Author Notes
this is a typical night for me lately....
© Ashley Rodden. All rights reserved
Thoughts in time and out of season
The Hitchhiker stood by the side of the road
And leveled his thumb
In the calm calculus of reason.

Hi. How you doin’?

I just got back into town,

L.A.

I was out in the desert for awhile

“Riders on the storm”

Yeah. In the middle of it

“Riders on the storm”

Right…

“Into this world we’re born”

Hey, listen, man, I really got a problem

“Into this world we’re thrown”

When I was out on the desert, ya know

“Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan”

I don’t know how to tell you

“Riders on the storm”

but, ah, I killed somebody

“There’s a killer on the road”

No…

“His brain is squirming like a toad”

It’s no big deal, ya know

I don’t think anybody will find out about it, but…

“take a long holiday”

just, ah…

“Let your children play”

this guy gave me a ride, and ah…

“If you give this man a ride”

started giving me a lot of trouble

“Sweet family will die”

and I just couldn’t take it, ya know

“Killer on the road”

And I wasted him

Yeah.
Elisa Holly Aug 2018
What am I doin'
What am I doin' here, my dear
I keep makin' the same mistakes I hear

Not long before I'm under another and I wonder
What I am doin' standing on this pier
While I can't get myself clear

What am I doin'
What am I doin' here, my dear
I keep making the same mistakes I hear

Every time you tell me you love me, I can't hear
'Cause all I see is this big hole
And I'm consumed by fear
I built this tight cage to avoid you coming near
And I wonder...

What am I doin'
What am I doin' here, my dear
I keep making the same mistakes I hear

They keep on askin'
Askin' me whats wrong
And all I want to do is fall apart
As I think of your heart beat
While you contemplate which way to move your feet

And we're standin', standin' on this pier
I can tell you're wonderin'

What am I doin' here

What am I doin' here, my dear
We keep making the same mistakes I fear
Isaac Golle Sep 2012
Grace.
Let it fall like an ocean
Let it rip through the skies
Let it fill up my heart and pour out my eyes
Let it gravitate my soul
Let it make me feel whole
Let it remind me of why I live
Let it remind me of all that you give!

Grace
Let my heart be made still and let mine eyes be opened!
Let me remember that my ears
were made to listen
And my lips exist for a lot more than just kissin'
Let me remember that these hands simply cannot do it all
Cuz see I wasn't made for that
I wasn't made for that at all

Grace
I was made to live and when I say live I think I mean give
But then I quickly realize I can only give so much!
And there's only so many lives I can touch!
Well how can I love if I can't constantly give
And how can I live if I can't constantly love but
Where's the hope in the God above if I'm the one doin' all the work?
And that's when I remember I accomplish the most when I just let go
And let You grab hold

Grace
Well what were these hands made for if not feeding the poor?
And what are these heart-wrenching feelings of constantly wanting more?
Why do my bones ache and my soul quake at the thought
Of living for myself?
Why do I worry so much about putting the marginalized on the shelf?
Why do I worry
about a life that loves hell?
Well maybe all this
is an unidentified desire to glorify God personified in Jesus Christ crucified

Grace
And maybe my soul's been singin' songs to my saviour since the day I was born
And maybe my saviour's been singin' sweet lullabies to quench the fear in my eyes
Maybe not all is lost
Maybe hope and salvation really come without cost
WELL TRY AND TELL THAT TO THE MAN LIVIN' ON THE STREET WITH NOTHIN' TO EAT
an'
TELL THAT TO THE CHILD WHOSE FATHER GIVES HIM A DAILY BEATING
TELL THE MURDERER'S AND RAPISTS THAT THEY CAN GO FREE
TELL THEIR VICTIMS...
Tell them what?

Grace
Maybe it's time I remembered I don't have all the answers
Maybe it's time I remembered I am a speck of dust in a rolling beach of existence
Maybe it's time I look at what's right in front of me
And not strain my neck as far as the eye can see
Maybe it's time to focus on living and not just surviving
Maybe thriving looks more like trusting than trying
Maybe all the answers to my questions aren't really answers at all
Maybe it's alright that my walk sometimes feels like a crawl
Maybe 100% of the wrongs I do are all my fault

Grace
Maybe God's lookin' at me like a child set free
Maybe God's not lookin' at who I used to be
Maybe God's lookin' right past all the bitterness and apathy
Maybe God really does look at the heart
And maybe He's been holding mine from the very start
Maybe this is all going according to plan and if it's not well then maybe God's still using it to help me become a better man
Maybe it's time I stopped trying to figure all this out!

Grace
Let it be felt
Tangibly
mandy rigby May 2014
candles lit, music's right
I've got plans to ****** tonight
,
I'm in charge .. you like it .. Ok?
going to control you in a most sensual way

I've taken care to dress real nice,
I'm going to blow you .. with ****** spice

I start to undress, start to tease
I wont be happy till your on your knees

we start to kiss, silk skin caress,
your getting hot, a seduction success

as your hands start to roam.
its too late .. your not goin home

now our clothes are on the floor,
both naked .. cept for Christian Dior

I start to moan, beg and plead,
In doin so .. i increase your need

(c) mandy rigby 22.05.2014

(thought I'd have a go at ****** poetry)
Mark Sep 2019
Just had a fight in da hood
Just had an offer from a corner girl
Do ya have reason for ya life
Feels like I'll always be doin' da same
Just had a knife thrown in my back
Just had to do what I do
Here to protect just you

Still I wonder why it is
I don't agree with all this
'Bout anyone like you
We keep doin' all the crime
Blowing off ****** all da time

You've got da moves, I can't repeat
You make me feel, like I'm a fool
When everyone else, gets the dance moves
Without a doubt you were born to stride
Michael's been away far too long
Can't find the words to explain history
Oh...
His grooves

Still I wonder why it is
I don't agree with all this
'Bout anyone like you
We keep doin' all the crime
Blowing off ****** all da time

Now just have to try and understand
The way it was
It's not a private thing anymore
'Cause we've seen through the mask on ya face
From tonight I know that you're not the only one
I've been confused and in denial
Now I understand

I wonder why it is
I don't argue like this
With anyone but you
I wonder why it is
I wont let my guard down
For anyone but you
We do it all the time
Blowing out my mind

Just had a fight in da hood
Just had an offer from a corner girl
Do ya have reason for ya life
Feels like I'll always be doin' da same
Just had a knife thrown in my back
Just had to do what I do
Here to protect just you.
Shang Dec 2013
my sister thought my mother
had died on her lap;
she walked to the bathroom
inside that depthless hospital hotel.

the putrid smell of life and death
all through-out this concrete heaven
and hell.

at the age of fifty-four
my mother's bones would
carry no more weight.

her gentle heart
her forgiving mind
her words so strong

but mine,
they are forced out
by constricted wind-pipes
and angry words

i glanced down at the cot, where my mother died
as I made contact with my mother's pale-blue eyes
she looked at me with the most helpless,
childish face I've ever seen.
as if to say:
"he isn't here.. where is he...
where could he be?"


she lived thirty more minutes.

he arrived a few hours later, asking:
"how's she doin'?"

never take for granted,
someone's borrowed time.
(C) Shang
theblndskr Apr 2015
After 12 seconds, the clock slaps me
" Earthling, what're you doin'?"

Me: "Oh, I'm killing you, immortal. And you?"
Clock: "Just, revolving 360 degrees since B.C.
            Now what if, I **** you?"

(Took off the battery . . . then saw another clock)
You see, nothing stops it. No one. But,
I remember
When I was younger
I used to think you looked just like John Smith
In that movie
I played over, and over
And I wanted to marry someone just like him

The world turns quickly
And troubled times make you tough
But when you turned to a cruel man
Your daughter stopped being good enough

Hey, Hey
What'cha doin', what'cha doin' now?
You stopped being a shelter, when the whole world howled
Ohh
What a day, to make a girl run away
A thousand miles
For safety, I ran
But to a little girl
You should have been Superman

I wonder
If you miss me
If you regret just what you did, and how?
If you ever
Think about me
Or care if I'm alive, or what I'm doing now?

And you let dust
Collect where my pictures used to be
And I'm not sorry
'Cause I wont be sorry for being free

Hey, hey
What'cha doin, What'cha doin now?
The sun is getting warmer, and I'm not sure how
Ohh
The longer I'm away, I know that all you caused was pain
Because of you
I had to be stronger, and
To a little girl,
You should have been Superman

It's been years now,
And I'm older
Old enough to see all you did and said were lies
Everyday
In the mirror
I see less and less of you behind my eyes

Now there's a man
And he loves what he sees in them
And it sure won't be you
To walk me down the aisle, when I marry him

Hey, Hey
What'cha doin', What'cha doin' now?
Without you, I still grew, now I'm strong and proud
Ohh
Someday, I'll have a baby with this good-hearted man
She'll be his whole world
And he'll hold her hand
In her eyes
He's gonna be Superman

Hey, hey,
I'm so happy with where my life is now
I made it, I changed it, and you'll never see how
Ohh
It makes me cry, when I think of how good
It's gonna be
With me and my man
Our little family
With my Superman
More of a song than a poem. That happens sometimes, I get the song in my head and have to write it down. If I could write music, more effectively anyway, I'd have about five of these by now. :-/
Cyril Blythe Aug 2012
I assured myself again that I was completely alone. Gingerly, I sat on the corner of her popcorn-and-perfume-scented bed and allow my tingling fingers to reach out and open that sacred journal again to page one. I never really understood it but maybe if I read it one more time. “Things I Wish I Never Knew:

1. People are selfish almost always.

2. Shaking hands does matter. ******.

3. Wine hangovers are miserable.

4. Puppies **** behind things ‘cause they feel guilty; you wont find it until it smells.

5. Friends really do come and go.

6. Neti Pots absolutely **** and bring you nosebleeds NOT relief.

7. Attraction and love are different. REMEMBER THIS ABOVE ALL.

8. Joy is clicking add to dictionary in Microsoft word.

9. If you can make it through Taco Bell kisses, morning breath will be a breeze.

10. Be jovial, it’s a choice and a side effect of living in daily adventure.

11. Make sure that your family knows…” I pause because I think I hear footsteps padding up the fourteen red-carpeted steps to her bedroom. I know I can’t move, the old wood floor in this crumbling house will definitely creak and give me away, so I just sit on the edge of the bed at full attention.

        “…No, ma’am, everything’s basically back to normal again, we’re getting the locks changed on Saturday. I’ll tell her you send your love.” The footsteps and voice were at the top of the stairs and I saw a shadow fall across the dusty floor in front of the white wooden door. I know it’s my neighbor Annie because she lives here. We grew up together. “Yes, ma’am, I love you too. I’ll try to make her call you soon. Bye.” Her phone beeped to signal the end of the conversation followed by a loud sigh. I peered from the bed into the hall and saw her sitting on the floor. Annie is a pretty girl. All the girls who live here are. We used to go to school together until my grades got too bad and I started my special school. We used to play in her front yard with her sister, Kelly. One time I kissed Kelly, but we were only seven. She is my only kiss. They both leave for most of the year now to go to college but come home for Christmas break. I will never go to college, but that’s ok.

        I felt my pants vibrating and the theme song to the TV show Who Wants to be a Millionaire was somehow blaring from somewhere around my crotch. Before I could silence it, the shadow at the door became a tangible whirlwind of brown hair, sharp screams, and clawing grabbing fingers as she tried to wrench the ratty Moleskin journal from my fingers.

        “******, Cyril, I thought I heard someone in here. You give it back and get out of this house. You can’t, like, break into other people houses like this. This is just not what normal people do. Can’t your father control you?” At this point we’re both standing in the middle of the bedroom. I’m confused so I just dangle the journal in the air above her grasp. “It’s not yours and you know that. I know you at least understand that, right? Right, Cyril? What the hell would you do if Kelly had been showering or changing. Oh my god, ew, do NOT answer that.”

        “Ow,” I yelp as she scratches at my forearm to retrieve the precious journal. “Your claws are sharp, Annie, I have more scratches from you than I do Jimmy-cat and Jimmy-cat is mean, mean but fluffy… and he purrs but you don’t purr. Is that because you don’t like me?” I lower my arm and Annie snatches the Moleskine out of my fumbling fingers, avoiding eye contact at all costs. I hate it when people do that. I notice it, but they don’t think I do.

            “Cyril, get out.” Her right hand is now securely around the Moleskine and the other is shaking, pointed towards the doorway. “Now.”

            This is always the worst part. I walk out of Kelly’s forbidden bedroom: head hung as I creak down the fourteen red, carpeted stairs and make my way to the front door. It’s always quiet and I don’t like the quiet so whenever it’s quiet I count. I am good at counting. …Twelve, thirteen, fourteen…silence.

        I turn to her, “Annie, I’m sorry…”

            “Out.” She opens the front door and points me to my apartment, directly across the street. Its autumn now and the leaves and cold rustle down the street and I crouch deeper into my black coat as I step outside.

            “So maybe I’ll come over tomorrow?” I turn as I start down the steps, hopeful to have conjured up a smile from Annie, but all I see is the flash of brunette hair disappearing behind another thick, white wooden door.

            “Get off our property before I call the cops, you creep!”

            That’s what I’ve always been to these pretty girls: a creep. I don’t really understand what the word means, but I’m pretty sure from the way they say it that it’s not nice. Pops always tells me that I’m different because it’s better to be different. I don’t understand why Annie and Kelly don’t think it’s better that I’m different too.

            I decide to walk to Captain D’s and tell Earl hi because it’s Friday and that’s what I do on Fridays. Earl owns Captain D’s and has forever. Earl is my friend. Earl and Jimmy-cat at Captain D’s that I feed my left over fish are my friends. At least I think they are. I named the cat Jimmy-cat because Pops says mom used to listen to a man named Jimmy Buffett before she left us. I don’t remember those days.

            I turn the corner knowing Captain D’s is just 560 steps ahead and that to get back home I go 910 steps back and I’ll be at my front door. Counting is one thing I am good at; even the tests they used to make me take at the doctor’s office said so. I am good at numbers. Seven is my favorite number.

            I walk into Captain D’s and, like normal, its just Earl inside. He makes me two Fish-Filet sandwiches and we go stand outside. We usually don’t talk much, but I like that . I sit on the crunchy curb, put on my hood because the wind and leaves have made my ears sting. I unwrap the greasy paper on my first sandwich and Earl pulls out his red Marbolo’s and sits beside me lighting up his first cigarette.

            “Why do you smoke, Earl?” I ask him every Friday and he always responds the same way.

            “Eh. Why do the fish swim Cyril? Why do the Eagles and Crows fly? You know we don’t know why Women like shoes so much.”

I never really understand what he means but it makes me giggle and before we know it we’re both laughing. I’m pretty sure this is what friendship is. I lick the wrapper to get all the tarter sauce off and start on my second sandwich. Earl starts his second cigarette.

            “Where’s that alley cat you got trained up, boy? Go get ‘em and I’ll cook him his own fish patty.”

            He means Jimmy-cat. I wipe my fingers on my jeans, tear off a piece of the damp fish from my sandwich, and walk towards white picket fence that Earl built around the dumpster where Jimmy-cat lives. Jimmy-cat has a good life; he can eat anything in the green dumpster he wants and he is safe behind the big white fence. I don’t like the smell but maybe cats like eating and smelling the furry tarter sauce that clings on the sides of the dumpster. As I pull the lever to open Jimmy Cat’s home, I think it smells even worse than normal. After jiggling the latch a while, it clicks, and I swing the door open to Jimmy-cat’s house. It definitely smells worse. I step up one step and crunch on leaves and squish cold fries as I circle the dumpster. “Jimmy-Jimmy-Jimmy-cat, where-oh-where-oh-where ya at?” I stop as I enter the back right corner, I see Jimmy-cat but I don’t understand what is happening. I don’t understand what is wrong. He is covered in ketchup, maybe? But if that’s true what are the little white thingssss crawling around his stomach and why are they covered in ketchup and mayonnaise too? He is mewling and I’m scared. I smell fish. Fish and furry tarter sauce, one, two, three, four, my feet are crunching on the cold fries and leaves again, I know I’m at the door without even turning around.

            “Boy, what you doin’ in there?”

            “Earl?” …One…two… “Earl, can you help me? Earl, I, I don’t understand. I don’t like it.” …Three…four…five… “Jimmy-cat needs a bath, Earl, and something is eating his stomach.” …Six…seven…silence. Earl’s hand fells like a dead fish on my shoulder as he walks me back up to Jimmy-cats home.

            “Stay here, Cyril. Just gimme’a sec to see what’s happening.” Earl disappears into the leaves and fries and fur.

            eight…nine…ten

eleven…twelve…

            thi­rteen…

fourteen…

            silence.





            “Boy? Come back here now. C’mon.” Earl’s voice echoed around the green corners and I followed. One…two…three…four…five…six…seven I stand above Earl and I know the ketchup and mayonnaise and Jimmy-cat eating monsters are just on the other side of his crouched over body.

            “Well don’t be shy, come look.” Earl stands and I see his work apron covered in the ketchup and mayonnaise but beyond that in a bed of Fish-filet wrappers is Jimmy-cat and all the stomach eating monsters mewling at his stomach, as I get close I think they look kinda like little Jimmy-cats. I push my hood off my head as I lean over closer and that’s when it hit me, “Kittens! Jimmy-cat had kittens, Earl!”

            “I think Jimmy-cat may be more of a Jasmine-cat or Jennifer-cat.”

            I laid down the piece of fish I brought and Jimmy-Cat looks up into my eyes and I swear he was happy to see me.  I looked up at Earl and he was happy to see me too. I sat down in the mess of wrappers and fries and mold and laughed and laughed and laughed.
Lou Costello’s
bronze semblance
dipped and danced atop
his granite pedestal
spinning miasmatic tales
of enigmatic hope and
resplendent labor

“the sweet
unbounded
expectation of
hope once
surged down
this city’s streets”
... said Lou

"I was a self made man
until someone thought up
the idea to cast a bronze
caricature of me and
bolt it to this grand rock”

nostalgia
is the boldest form
of fiction
culling from the past
the things hoped for
in the now

“growing up
here
I clipped school,
played ball,
rolled drunks
and fought
nickel ante
prize fights
to get my
daily bread,
I literally
punched my
way out
of this town”

a smith smelts a
batch of liquid bronze
pouring molds full of
a fervent wish
a madman's delusion
a priestly promise
a Pollyannaish illusion?

baskets overflowed
gushing hope, offered
at the holy altars by
honorable workers

it was said that
a morsel of labor
could feed 5000
starved families
breeding hopes as large
as a half cup of water

hope
the size of a
mustard seed sparked
recovery of 1000 sick children
dying from the Asian Flu
at St. Joe's

hope
willed an end to war’s slaughter
which ironically was bad for
Paterson's war profiteers
forcing layoffs
sparking labor actions

hope
ignited conflagrations firing
the resurrection of dead industries
lately there is a lot of hope
circling this one

miracles spring
from the pronounced
lips of trembling hearts

the hopeful amassed
slogging forth on bloodied toes
along razor thin slices
of expectation
hoping to begin again
eager to build anew

new starts sometimes
grow old fast soon
hope expires
winging back home
on broken wings of
misspent labor

hoping for the snow to stop
a lump of coal to last
the labor of a budding crocus
rewarded, breaking through
the hard crust of winters end
blooms for a day then expires

hope is a beggars wish
gods give yearnings heft
prayers earnestly chanted
willing paradigm shifts

prayers of absolution
play the angles
calculating odds
of probabilistic mathematics
a sure thing long shot
the prayers of the
righteous availeth much

we hoped for jobs
we hoped for leisure
we hoped for love
we hoped for labor
we hoped for rest
we hoped for luck
we hoped for a life
wealth health blest

laughing at our follies
crying over defeats
our city a tragic star
a comedy of schemes

our
hope and labor
is the keystone of
our self construction
cornerstone of
a grand city’s edifice
its negation our
deconstruction

tragedy and comedy
invested and spent
falling and laughing
foibles and faith

belief trumps evidence
happenstance slays surety
horror and beauty
compose a life's mural
nothing happens
by mistake

learning and ignorance
fate and chance
the risk of randomness
expiration dates arrive fast

predetermination a bold
conviction, suspicion,
intention a splendid  
kismet  

banality becomes
sublime  
laughter is ******

...the mystery is in
the loam... says WCW
...the finished product
is what I’m after...

“what the
**** are you
doing here?"
the bronzed Louis
gagged

"Hey Abbott
look at these clowns
in the yellow plastic
garbage bags!

bobbing in a sea of
midnight mist

a posse of
neon clowns
donning glad bags
on the most dismal
night of the year

twinkling under the
gloom of my playgrounds
faltering streetlamps

“twinkling targets
easily tracked,
a trained eye,
a steady hand
could pick you off
at a thousand paces
what gives?

“what the **** are
you doing here?

“what the **** am I doin
here for that matter?”

“the second question
is easy to answer,

“I’m Paterson’s
finest son....

...“Wherever he is tonight, I want him to hear me," and went on with the show. No one in the audience knew of the death until after the show when Bud Abbott explained the events of the day, and how the phrase "The show must go on" had been epitomized by Lou that night....

"Mr. Bacciagalupe
he use to live on
Cianci Street

“who’s on first?
what’s on second?
I don’t know is on third?
was a riddle one recited
to get into his speak

“his Ginnie Red was legendary
and no one was ever known to
die from drinking his bathtub gin”

the old world ways
are made new
by the arrival of
new old worlds
supplanting old Italiano

“where is all the goodwill capital
we invested in this place?”

successive generations
thought it best to export
the capital of the
expired generations
elsewhere

it was ferried
across the river,
crossed the
city boundaries,
leaving for Wayne
and the fairer lawns
of Wyckoff and the
greener grasses of
Franklin Lakes

all the old wise guys
died off or were sentenced
to life by their children,
some still doin time in
old age homes in
Rockaway

all the sport clubs
boarded up but their spirit
lingers like an espresso
ring on a post slurp
demitasse cup

“hell my body is buried
in Hollywood but here
I am, holding court in
Costello Park
talking with you
knuckleheads
a baseball bat
my royal scepter
a brown derby
my crown, truly a
King of Nothing,
Lord of All

“the soul of my city is
eternal,  like the comedy
of tragedy or is it
tragic comic?

“here I remain
omnipresent,
spinning about
frozen forever
in a magnificent
bronze age,
erected to my likeness
beholding me
to stand witness
to this litter strewn park
decorated with corrugated
Big Mac boxes, plastic
Big Gulp tops and discarded
rubbers bagging the ****
of this cities arrested
citizenry”

never actualized
never naturalized
citizenship denied
at the commencement
of ejaculatory flows
of joy

unfulfilled spirit
of citizenship
never to experience
the splendor
of yesterday’s
modernist
metropolis and
Lou’s stand up
routines

“look at that John
over there, that guy
wheezing like a
ruptured blacksmith’s
billow, pounding away
laboring to get off

“the poor little
******* just hopes it
will end soon

it does
**** he’s done

I” knew that guys
grandfather,
getting off
runs in the family
and remains one
of the few things
that draws the progeny back
to the old neighborhood

“you can still glimpse
snippets of the old ways
rising in new ways

“an Armenian
sports club
around the corner
is a new
incarnation of
the old Neapolitan
social clubs that
once demarcated the
neighborhoods

“these days
great grandsons
of once proud
Sons of Italy
come back to the
old neighborhoods
begging for hand-jobs
from crack ******

“welcome to my
burlesque world

“since the Gumbas
moved to Franklin Lakes
the wannabe wise guys
became ***** whipped
dumb *****
making ***** of
themselves with
their painted ****-job
Jersey Housewives

“they ***** their families
out for a bit parts on
MTV and a free lunch
at the Brownstone

“their grandfathers
labored long hours
to assure the well being
of their families in the expectant
hope of a better shot at life
but the children squandered
the hard earned bequest lovingly
bequeathed by reverent forebears

“in the wee hours
one can sometimes hear
a weeping chorus
of concrete Madonnas
musing melodious lullabies
to the sleeping
Lombard's lying
in uneasy repose at
Holy Sepulchre Cemetery

“they twist in their graves
dreaming of a last dance with the
Lady of Unending Sorrows
at weddings for unrepentant
wayward daughters and prodigal sons

“its small
recompense for a
lifetime of an
honest day’s work”

the dashed hope
of squandered labor
begets a city of ruin”

at the
parks northern corner
the Salvation Army’s
rumbling bivouac rests
in a dreamless sleep
its residents
patiently waiting to
inherit this city
abandoned by
nuevo wise guys

this tragedy
is all comedy
the comedic hope
of tragic labor
buried snoring
the millenniums away
awaiting resurrection
day

Lou was getting ******...
“get outta my park

“the artists
in the rehabbed
factories across
the street
are resting

“nothing much
going on there

“if you're hoping
to find some
homeless slogs
head over to the river
you should find some there”....

Music Selection:
Frank Sinatra, High Hopes

jbm
Oakland
3/26/13
Part 5 of extended poem Silk City PIT.  PIT is an acronym for Point In Time.  PIT is an annual census American cities conduct to count the homeless population.  Hope and Labor is the city motto of Paterson NJ, nick named The Silk City.
Bardo Mar 2018
One Summer's night looking out the
   back window at the back garden
My! I couldn't get over it, how bright it
    was
You'd think the sun was still shining
The Big Moon casting its ghostly pallor
    over everything
Like an Enchantress's dark spell
The strange cold beauty of it, it held
    me enthralled
I could only stand there watching,
    silently in awe;
Suddenly, a peculiar thought came
    into my head
I smiled at its outrageous suggestion
Then grabbing my sunglasses and my
    old deck chair
I went out into the garden and sat right down there underneath the stars
Bathing in the silvery light of the
    moon's cold rays,
Well I tell you, all the night creatures
   going about their night business
They all did a double take "Hey, that's the funny human bloke, what's he
    doin' out this late",
Even the cat came over and rubbed her eyes," Wait a minute ", she said, " this isn't right, you're not supposed to
    come out at night ":
Sensing their curiosity and their
    general discomfiture
I lowered my shades and looking at them all gathered there in the shiny
    bright dark, I said
" Don't worry gang, don't be alarmed,
    no! don't be aghast
It's only.... well, it's only Great Art.

                         II

I don't know
But it seems
Wherever I go
Great Art is never far behind
In tow.
A bit of whimsy. Happy St Paddy's Day.
Phyllis T Halle Dec 2012
Caint Complain
                       By Phyllis T.  Halle  February 26, 2006
Growing up in a tiny coal mining town in the hills of Eastern Kentucky,
I frequently heard a response out of the lips of stooped, arthritic miners, toothless women, old before their time,
wretchedly poor widows with six children to feed.
It was just a common reply to the courteous, "How are you?" -
"Caint complain."
The high pitched voices of those descendents of English, Scottish, German, Irish pioneers still echo in my ears and I wonder always at the tenacity, strength and wisdom which resounded firmly in those two words,
                                          "Caint Complain."
Very few people had indoor plumbing, telephones, cars or two pair of shoes. Health insurance, retirement plans, paid sick days, furnaces, pizzas, air conditioners, jet planes, paid vacations, job security, career planning were all unheard of unknowns.
When someone became ill, the ‘‘kindly old general practitioner would come to the house and dispense his little pills and words of encouragement and instruction, knowing the limitations of his skill and ability to heal.
Mothers and fathers still buried their little children who died from diphtheria, pneumonia, whooping cough, measles, diarrhea, croup ( a disorder known in later years as asthma).
Husbands buried wives who died in childbirth, at an alarming rate. "Caint Complain," they'd say gently, with a soft 'almost' smile and deeply troubled eyes.
Sanitation was fought for, vigorously, by hard muscled women, who scrubbed and washed, and swept and mopped.
They'd boiled the family’s clothes which had been worn for a week, in pots in the back yard, "to get ‘em clean."  
Killing germs was not in their vocabulary, but that is what they'd were doing. Ask that little old gal who was out in the yard, stirring the clothes around in boiling water, over an open fire, "How are you doin’?"  
                            "Caint Complain, " she would invariably say.
WHY couldn't they'd complain? Where did their tenacity come from?
Where did that philosophy of not complaining come from?
Where did they find the resolve to place dire, critical deprivation, hard labor and malnourishment behind them and place a smile on their faces and say
                                Caint Complain?

I knew some of those people when they had grown very old and faced birthdays in their late nineties. Without exception, they had the sweetest dispositions, most grateful hearts, kindest words and calmest old ages of any among the many I have known who reached that age!
When the pressures of their life had faded and they had nothing remaining that had to be done except to live out the final part of their life, they did not have a habit of complaint.
Some recent phone calls I have received were what prompted me to think about this. One right after another, friends called and for the first ten minutes of each call, I listened to a long list of complaints about the trials and travails my dear friend was suffering.
Each friend has: no financial worries, a wonderful primary care doctor, prescriptions to keep their heart pumping, eyes seeing, brain focusing, stomach digesting and body sleeping, each night.
They are protected from financial ruin, by medicare and/or HMO, social security checks, pensions, savings and inherited wealth. They have loving, devoted sons, daughters, nieces and nephews who keep in touch and are there for them.
They each one have lovely heated and cooled homes, apartments or condos with every convenience known to Americans; cars or taxi/bus services to get them out and around. More than that, each has beautiful memories which they can call upon to bring a smile to their face at any moment of the day or night. But somehow we find plenty to complain about.
Why haven't we formed the habit of Caint Complain?
Maybe the philosophy of always seeking more comfort, more possessions, more money, more- more- more- of everything, has driven us to achieve, accumulate and accomplish but it required us to never know what the word contentment means.
Contentment doesn't mean having everything at one’s fingertips. It doesn't mean lacking nothing. It certainly doesn't mean every dream and desire fulfilled.

Yet there are many who have enough of everything except the common sense to know when they really "Caint Complain."
Happiness is a fleeting moment of joy. Contentment is finding peace in what you have, what you are and what you have accomplished.
Having the serenity to know which one brings lasting goodness into your life is wisdom.
A SMILE IS THE KNIFE GOD GAVE US TO CUT THE SIZE OF OUR TROUBLES DOWN TO A BEARABLE LOAD.    
Lots of love and hugs, Phyllis
Grant Mailo Nov 2012
I can be you, or I can be them
I can be she, or I can be him
but why be a con artist of someone else
like a shadow to my best friend, when I
can be my own person, a unique creation
created in the image of God but representin my own reflection
because I don't wanna see you, them, she, or him in the mirror
I wanna see me through my own eyes, 20/20 vision, but clearer
but the more I conform, the image of someone else draws nearer
and I begin to lose sight of myself, look back in the mirror, and see myself in the rear
a shadow to another figure, a copy of a personality
livin' out another person's dreamed out reality
copying what they think, and succumbing to conformity
but that ain't me....
what you see visually and how I appear physically
is what makes me comfortable, that's why I'm an independent, politically
I don't follow the norms and rules of what's most accepted socially
the only commandments I live by are the ones given Biblically
I ain't  the best saint though, I mean I do sin every day
but the only one I wanna copy is Jesus Christ, in every possible way
on the other hand, Satan is out there,
trynna tempt me on how to act and even what words I say
he's out offering me drinks, but I reply, "I'm okay"
cause I don't care if "everyone else is doin' it"
I just live how I like to live, that's what makes me a true non-conformist

I dress how I wish and not because it's in style
I keep my hair big, I do whatever makes me smile
I'm not trynna impress you or fit into your clique
I don't give women pick-up lines and act like I'm slick
I'm me, just me, no facades, just real
and if you can't accept that, then move forward but don't steal
the things that make me special, from my poems to my appeal
so don't try to change me and keep my uniqueness concealed
I could care less about your thoughts and any of your judgements
I refuse to give your words power, I can make your points become pointless
I'm not trynna be harsh, I just love to be different
I wanna be an original and keep my vibe realistic
not a second you, but a first me, no counterfeit
I try to keep up with what God said in Matt 26
verse 41, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak
so pray not to give into temptation and stay on your feet
I encourage us to keep our standards and what makes us unique
and accept anyone else who doesn't wanna repeat
everything you say, and everything you do
sometimes it's the people that are different that come off the most true
because they're not sayin or actin' in ways that you approve
they're given you their honest opinion, you should keep them closest to you
don't conform, forget what people want you to be
just be yourself, not a copy of reality TV.
spoken word piece I wrote for an event called "speak on, speak on it". the event was put on by 2 organizations I'm involved in at ASU, B.A.D. [black artists and designers] club and ASU NAACP. the topic was conformity. this is a piece I started and wrote just a couple hours before the event. I really procrastinated on this one. what I'm basically trying to say is this poem is a rushed job. please don't judge me too hard lol this isn't me at 100%! constructive criticism is more than welcome though.
Help me understand what I mean to you...
Help me clarify that I am something, cause im tired too..
Tired of the games and blues, filled with exhaustion from my heart buying in to your lies soo much its costin me,happiness...
I wanna know for sure!'show me an exact image! of reason, why be with him, if I known you longer than you been breathin?
All this teasin is misleading, do you want me? tell me! dont leave me hangin..
Im madden and sadden by the though he has your lips, what happens to me  if it last long, and  I just come around like a bad caugh.
I've lost...
What we had is old news, but i guess time shared holds no meaning in helping you choose.
Don't come to me if your confused, i refuse to help you and your trouble, for now on do you...
Cause i been doin me, never had a problem I couldn't solved em easily with alil alcohol and **** cause you cared less about me and more about him..
I was a friend the best there was, the best there is, the best there ever will be, one you'll probably will not miss.
Or even noticed, if I disappeared, Im just a ghost, a shadowed memory,  still wanna be wanted but its hopeless...truly hopeless, why I wrote this? It won't change a **** thing about her, why Am  I still hopin? Why I care? Why I dare to even mention your name know you wont come to my aid, your never there...
Always with another or him, not knowing who you want, i was wish i was in your option, I can do much more, but never gained a chance to prove, and you wonder why I feel summertime  blues....
Im the best, One you'll never loose..
Ima alot of things but theres a side I never get to show, a side you will love, but you always say no, not givin me a chance as if I was bronze not worth your Gold,
but listen baby im silver, way out there but a good catch, ima outfielder,
something you can be near uhh never shed a tear soo why you always out me?
Always doubt me, never wanna like me, knowing im the right piece,
always misplace me baby, i can clean up mess like a wipee, 
whipe your tears on my white T,
i wanna be your  lycan whose fightin for what he likes see? but I feel there's no time for me...so again  why am I writing????
I am just helpless, a romantic put on the shelf like an old novel,
these say stomach the pain, but I put these dead butterflies in a bottle...
alone in my household, holding close what I call ghost hopes...Dead long ago, now it just cold like the snow, could build a snow man, But I just say no,
Why bother like Stone Sour...it will never happen, I blacken with thoughts, cryin in shower.
Stressin myself because my heart feels like its in a cyclical orbit,
of doubt and hopes, a limbo that continues to lower my esteem
and stings with pain like hornets..

BY: Emmanuel Jv Hernandez
5/23/14
(might add and edit later depending if i doesnt flow the way i want or needs more insight to get across what im feeling)


comment what you think!!!!!
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
Jerome Revilla Nov 2011
I used to put these headphones on.
And at once, the whole world was gone
And the music did no wrong
Till I found myself doin’ it all day long.

But I still kept these headphones on
Because my headset drowned my strife,
Cut through it like a knife,
Till I was bound to the music for all my life.

I used to sit in earnest at my computer chair
ITunes and my iPod in hand as I prepare
Another playlist.
Indecisive between hip-hop and RnB
While I let humanity’s problems sit on a wait-list.

But I just left these headphones on.
Not a care or thought about global pollution
Amidst our world’s confusion
All signs pointing to a troubled conclusion,
But yet, me and my headphones ignore the solutions.

Why? Because music forever plays,
That even when solutions were raised,
I just sat there…
As the environment died everyday.

Because all I did was listen to these headphones.
As I laid awake in my bed,
Nothing running through my head,
Except music,
And I felt alive listening to the words that was said
When in reality Inside I was dead

But I still left these headphones in
So I can block out my parent’s groans when
I know that I have disappointed them
Maybe I’m just missing the point again.

And all the while my dads fist connecting with the door
As he has always done before, in the past
Choosing to ignore, with music full blast
I found myself more and more detached.

Not only my parents, but even the politicians are itchin’
To get me to listen,
Hopin and wishin that
This generation would eventually find its ambition.

I used to think that iTunes could do no wrong.
And that it was all I ever needed
Because all it was to me was a program full of songs
But I didn’t like where my life was headed.

And god it’s amazing, the word iTunes.
Such a fitting name
Because I tuned my friends out
And there is no one else to blame
As I tuned my parents out
Our relationship will never be the same
As I tuned the world out
Now look at who I became.

So now I’m taking these headphones off.
Because I don’t want to stay connected
Acting like I was totally unaffected
When in fact, the world around me I neglected
So I’ll change,
No longer will these headphones hold the reins
I am cutting off all of my chains
And I know a life ahead of me still remains
That without these headphones,
There is so much more to gain.
I wrote this on 12/2010 as a spoken word piece. During this time, I was in a low point of my life with my low grades, failing relationship with my girlfriend, and constant fights with my parents and my poor health due to living next to an oil refinery. I turned to music and relied on it to forget my problems. I soon realized that i cannot hide behind songs and i had to face and solve my problems instead of running from them.
Sarah Writes Jan 2014
That’s alright baby, tie me down to this familiar ground
Say you wanna grow a garden
In my old backyard, dig
Say you wanna be my man, all I got to do is forgive
It’s alright baby, ain’t nothin' new
I been hidin' under the same rocks you're throwin' for most my life
Cursed to carry a love like yours, I can’t be sorry
For the bruises on my hide
Better at drinkin' than forgivin', better at walkin' than your lovin',
Babe I can’t be sorry though I miss you still
I hear you been doin' well
Hear you’re runnin' fine
Put those strong hands to good use, quit throwin' pebbles at my house
You and me just can’t be friends
It’s alright, baby
It ain’t nothin' new
I’ve still got my pretty blue dresses, still got whiskey kisses
And I can’t be sorry no more, so
I’m gonna bury my thoughts of you, dig
My own **** garden
Billip Phibbs Jan 2015
I know you seen that...

What? ... Her just switch cars like that?

Yup.... She doin' *****.
NO LOVE for a Thot.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
cliche. click
I'm lost without you

you glanced my way and said,
"how do you know?"

I don't.
I won't.
I can't.

You glance away and say,
"maybe so."

Life's the test.
----
stand alone or be rejected
objected
the subject of the action word
conjecturing the meaning

Hector's pride brought the mass.
Was that made sacred? Yechhh.

Higgs's made real,  massive change
end of the world
as we knew it, 2012, mass means more than x-mas

The message in the messenger from Greece's God,
"Hold fast, hold on, Hector, be
hold-- what a drag"

Achilles, shoulda had anger management.

Suppose, Achilles's momma had trusted
whatever the protection was to be,
divine, that kind o' dad,
it warn't gonna let 'im drown.

She coulda just tossed 'im in,
sink or swim, knowing, in her inner parts,
the protector's promise,
memorized, since the red tent.

Pandora's last hope trumps fire,
and flood,

Wee Achilles woulda squirmed, and swam,
invincible, every inch soaked,

it could been, but, you know,
Achilles's momma could not let go.

And the rest is mythtery.

---
the sign said follow the money,

but money is invisible, so I played like
I could see what other folk
saw.

Lot o'them took time to tell me,
"Only believe", or "trust, and obey".
Streets of gold,
we'll slide back
down on silk stockings
hung on spider thread

above the flames

that boil the kettle in the center of
the whole round world,

nobody in our family ever once
believed the world is flat,

nor that Jesus once was blue and had four arms,

stop me.
I was wrong, I, myself, can imagine
Jesus dressed as Rama,
who was blue and had four busy arms, in truth.

hallowed ev'ening of the light,
settling sun, lead in the night, when all
see monsters, every where,

no one will notice me. Watch and see.

OH OH, ****** me by my pigtail, lift me to the third
floor, two stories past tellestial,
kingdom come,
which the mormon at my door testified
the angelic ***** had told Brigham 'n'em,

in the spirit, he agreed, not face to face.

tellestial is as close to hell as a Mormon man can go,
and,
he said, "If you could see it, you'd die to go.
It's so much better than this."

Joe Smith, said that, according to his agent.

I pondered,
chewed a cud, as I could recall, holy cows do.

I leaned back, put one boot to rest,
on the bricks behind my knee,

A modified Crane pose, I suppose.
I folded my arms and stared that boy
right in the eye.

I said, "Wanna try?"
"We gotta bridge up the road a piece,
sure as haell,
we'll see if it's a lie, at least."

Then I repented.
That hell imagined by Joe and all them zionic-messengers,
they was guesses, at the best. But the feelers at my door,
they was bein' tempted
to put their own faith to the test.

I grow bolder. The experiment worked.
I know.
Same ol' story...

-She said it tasted,
okeh,
first time that word was ever heard or tasted.

Cool,
****, cold, evil, winter, summer, sweat, mosquitos, evil cold,
I'm sorry!

How do you know?
What's blame?
Oh, that, and shame, I know that,

epi genetically be guile-ish. gullibility
gone in one bite.

Taste and see, he saw her say, or thought
he did

Like a switch, with more capacitance,
than the cells of knowing can resist,
in the first few months of being matter in time.

Knock a fella in the head
with knowing all the hows of evil,
along with all the why of not,

the most beautiful woman in the world,
no contest,
naked, and he knows.

Thinkin' straight ain't in the plan.
Precedent set forever,
no plan survives first sight of a naked woman after learning what naked means,

according to the tutor in blame,
who sat glumly on Adam's shoulder
explaining as the jist
of the story unrolls, "naked is evil,
you are naked", no word, just
thinkin'

good luck if yer helpin' him stand,
Wham

spoken words heard and
obey essence initial instantiation
revere
lionize,

oops, Idols. The idea of idols. Don't imagine anything like that.

Gabriel came with that very message all over his face.

Knowin' evil and doin' it, not the same.
Learn to drive and do the math,

Then we talk about artifice beyond the ken of mortal minds,
not worry,
it is written, We have the mind of Christ,

but as an augmentation really,
we can fact check,
but, honest,
a heretic has to use any augmentations right,
or the being powers will

objectify his reason for being, and reject him, for

the sin of defining the happiness he ensues.

You with me?
----
This was to be my comment,
but it called out for search engine priority of purpose

Nothin', I was thinkin' --
we never get trick or treaters,
tho' an occasional Mormon team will try to climb my hill,
then I un cussed my thoughts
with my inner self and we agreed.
He who would catch fish,
must venture his bait.
Net criticism's needed, if anything is to get better than this.
Wise ones say, it ain't easy,
but true rest,
I can testify, it's found along the way.

Hallowed be your even-ing, level up,

trick or treat?
not on that old man's hill,
somethin' weird, too peaceful there.
Nothin', I was thinkin' -- we never get trick or treaters, tho' an occasional Mormon team will try to climb my hill,then I un cussed my thoughts with my inner self and we agreed. He who would catch fish, must venture his bait. Net criticism needed, if anything is to get better than this.
Nathan Alexander Aug 2018
I wake up, it’s a beautiful day!
Changing clothes, putting my stuff away,
Nothing to ruin it today,
Hey!
Gonna make the most out of today!
Yeah!

Going to the bathroom, brushing my teeth, and-
(80% of the happiness you feel, comes from genetics.)
...Uh...
(And life is ultimately meaningless.)

Okay, going on the bus!
It’s a little tight, but it’s not that much of a fuss,
No reason to go nuts,
Yeah!
(69,000 bus accidents occurred in Europe, in 2014 alone.)
...What?
(Not to mention that the carbon emission is killing the atmosphere.)
...Jesus...
(Oh, and at least you’re lessening it by using public transit.)

...Well, alright, it’s time enter the school!
Gonna learn, till I pass everything!
My grades are screaming in my face; “it’s all cool!”
(You know what’s not cool?)
Bring it on, tell me anything!
(98% of what you study is a waste.)
...I mean...

...Nevermind that,
I get to hang out with some of my friends!
My friends are the bestest of friends!
Can't think of a better way to spend my time!
(Your brain is flawed, you’re bound to drift, and in any case all your friends will die.)
...Uh... Then...

I can live in the moment, use up every second!
(At any moment, you could get clinical depression.)
You’re wrong, I'll just be happy, no matter what's in store!
(It's quite genetic and we have no cure.)
...Uh, at least...

We are young!
(Not for long.)
Life is great!
(It only goes downhill.)
We gotta make the most of it!
(You’re likely to regret it.)
We are young!
(For now.)
Life is fun!
(For some people.)
We gotta make the most of it!
(Good luck.)

I got a brand new job today!
Doin stuff that'll help the economy!
I'll save money, and buy things at the store-
(Banks can crash and capitalism is flawed.)
...I... uh...

Um... and it's all because of my hard work!
(And the thousands of advantages you were lucky to get at birth.)
I put loads of effort in my resume!
(Good thing you don't have a black person's name.)

I've at least got a nice stable job!
(Until it's outsourced to China or replaced by a bot or robot.)
...Well then I could relax a bit!
(You'll be empty, with nothing to distract from it.)

But man, I'm a passionate teen!
I can be different, and I have career paths to pick from!
I could be a programmer, or a game maker, or even a YouTuber, if I'm lucky!
(Even if you really could be any of those, neither would make you happy, trust me.)

At this age, I’m still able to choose what I pursue!
(That’s a lie, and you're always a slave to people born richer than you.)
Then ***** it, I'll keep going,
And I'll party on the weekend, and sing!
(You’ll either get laughed at, or receive applaud, thanks to autotune.)

We are young!
(Not for long.)
Life is great!
(It only goes downhill.)
We gotta make the most of it!
(You’re likely to regret it.)
We are young!
(We still die.)
Life is fun!
(Until you’ll die.)
We gotta make the most of it!
(Because you'll die.)

Life is a wonder!
(You'll never know the answer.)
Nature is a miracle!
(Natural disasters.)
It's great to be alive!
(You could wake up with cancer.)
But I'm healthy...
(No matter how healthy, even healthy people get cancer.)

I love this show!
(It's probably the last episode there’ll ever be, or you have to wait weeks or months for the next episode.)
The sun is shining!
(It's going to explode.)
Every species is beautiful, and unique though!
(Children have malaria thanks to mosquitoes.)

I met a cute girl, with a ponytail!
(Statistically speaking, even if you two get into a relationship, it’s going to fail.)
I have a wonderful family, it's like no other!
(Considering your luck, your thinking is not special, and one day you'll bury your mother.)
No matter what happens, I can find a home!
(We will all die alone.)
homeland security
on these nuts
home land security
in your butts
home land security
look but don't touch
it's too much
for 'em to understand
***** jacker
**** in hand
hatin' big wacker
on tha attacker
i like 'em blacker
she's a ***** packer
don't like 'em battered
spell bound brain washed
what's tha matter?
Homeland Security Act
homeland security
tryin' ta scare
why can't tha government care?
socialist ideals
not tryin' to hear
hippie gal tryin' ta spread peace
until the cognizance cease
down with tha ****
come in your hair
tryin' ta do me long
they can't take it down
ya know they messin' around
neo-con trick
tryin' ta make brunette sick
don't they like the way i hold my ****?
maybe i wanna take a lick
lyin' *******' wichin' cryin'
like a man's supposed to be dyin'
look at 'em fryin'.
sorcery zap to the court-ordered goofs
snitchin'
doin' bad things
mad federal schemes
they all occultic fiends
with yo mama church
as the ball swings
** **** on me
mother **** the holy see
what ya tryin' to be
....holy?
goons, screws, pigs and spooks
sayin cognizance aint to use
poor court ordered goofs so-abused
papists vowed in their delusions of grandeur
all you supposed ta think
...is white cop
expendable masses they say aint allowed ta know
while they call the pope pop
guardian protectors of tha white bred
they wanna make tha people brain dead
feds frivolous threats
tha number on your badge says zero
what you tryin' to be?
A super hero?
http://chocolatefantasies.com/Dicky-Chug.jpg
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
The imaginers of now were children once,

each day they each imagined tomorrow.

Their daddies had just won the war
happy days were really here again, this time.
---
Now, we see what we see, it's not what we saw.

And this is better than I imagined.
My first oral book report was on 1984, in 1962.

Percentages and stats, the odds,
out of 8 billion…

I carry my weight, saltwise,
I'm light, too. Immaterial in fact.
I watched the internet take form
before my very eyes,
magi technic never seen since Darius the Mede.

Good job, geeks.
Reared on radio waves your
grandfathers never heard,

your signal receptors from mito-mom,
oh, what a plan. The promised ones.

Many sons.
hmmm 60 cycle white noise in the field,
the field of fields,
Future Farmers of America and stuff

Powers we imagined,
a color TV we could watch
in the backseat for days on Route 66,

a restaurant just for kids

Toys 'r' Us oh, wow,
those came and went

and our Grand kids
are imagining tomorrow,
doin' fine with less of what we thought was cool,

taking for granted all I
accepted as granted, in the "It is Finished"
Golden Parachute
Package deal,
Grace and Peace
that multiplies.
I can't sleep
L B Oct 2016
I let you go
to Philadelphia
I let you go
thirteen goin' on “life”
to your momma-- (God rest her-- and keep you
--from wherever she is)
to your father in Philly
outa the picture

Sheepish in the doorway of my classroom
back again
one last time--

Say good-bye, kid, to your short stay in Scranton
a town that can't rhyme
whose name falls over its own misery
No use for outsiders

“Where's your book?
Found your binder in the rain
Soggy protest to school's demands?
Of course it's yours
I checked, ya know”

"No way!"

Desk's been empty, three weeks now
Still, gotta ask
“Whacha doin?
Where ya been?”

“Khmir,
I'm sorry for your loss....”
Thirty seconds shares our grief
Thirty seconds for your future's-- all I got

“Listen to your teachers!
Do your work!
Please-- be okay?”

Khmir
in your wooly black coat-- like a bear
like a dare
shruggin and dancin in the doorway
of the “show”

Homework? Aint happenin'
But one paper, though
on why--
YOU-- should be president

and I almost vote for you
"Life" refers to a long prison sentence.

This poem is meant to be an indictment of the American
"prisons for profit" system that disproportionately targets African-American males.
Yume Blade Sep 2015
A finger in my mouth
A nail between my teeth

Am I worried ?
or
Am I stressed ?


A sound came to my ear
A sound of something breakin'

Am I breaking my nail ?
or
Am I eating it ?


No , I'm not
I'm just anxious
I'm just worried
I'm just stress

Anxious about him
Worried about what he's doin'
Stressed about what he thinks about.
about what he's doing without me
.
.
.
he needs me & he knew it.
"Say, whus tha good wurd, Mista Mornin Bird?"
"Ahh, ya know just chillin here singin these here tunes waitin fah Mista Worm."
"Ahh dat Mista Worm - he alwayz be runnin late."
"True dat!”
”Yo! peep this...
Last night he took his ol girl out on a date."
''A date? Really? Mistah Worm?”
"Yup.
But it getz betta tho.
It wuz dare anniversary. Ol fool went to tha chapel an got married."
"MARRIED!!??"
"mmhmm."
"Where dey get married?"
"At dare special spot in tha apple orchard.
Mistah worm told me he and hiz girl are movin to the Big Apple.”
“Big Apple? Fah what?”
“He gunna work fah tha East New York Farms.  I guess hiz uncle Jim
got him in.”
“…Mista Worm…”

"Say, howz Mista Skunk doin?  He evah get clean?"
"I dont see much of him theez dayz.  Heard heez down on his luck. Evah since tha paper mill closed he aint been tha same.  Heez so stressed out he got mo white hairz than a polar bear.”
“Dammmnnn!!!”
”Sumone told me that heez a nasty lil ol drunk wit a funky attitude and a quick tempa!
No wunda hiz wife leftem.
My understandin iz he still outta work - rummigin through peoples junk - collectin cans, tryin to make a buck.
Itz a **** shame, aint it?"
"Uh huh."

"Howz Mista Rabbit?"
"Miiiista Rabbit! Oohh dat Mista Rabbit he dunn got himself a nasty habbit."
"Whys dat?"
"He be stealin outta Mizz Jonsens garden again.
Otha day Mizz Jonsen shooed him away chasin him down tha block wit a pair of ol rusty scissors in her hand."
"Scissors!!??"
"Yup. She told him next time he wont be so lucky wit out hiz foot."
"WHUT!!??  Whus dat suppose da mean?"
"I dunno.”
"Dat Mizz Jonsen gone crazy!!
She dunn lost her mind in her ol age.
She crazier than a ******* rat!
Man, when Mista Rabbit gunna learn?”
"I guess when he haz no foot."

"Say, you talk to Mista Squirrel at all?"
“Itz been sum time.”
“How wuz he doin?”
"Man, you know Mistah Squirrel.  He wuz all ova da place, or at least he wuz.  He alwayz be jumpin from one tree to tha next, alllllwayz tryin to get a nut or two.  Last I heard he got deported and now lives in anotha county.”
“Why iz dat?”
“He dunn got locked up fah breakin in a few too many attics. They finally caught him....Stoopid fool."
''****…”

"Nuff about tha neighbahood.  How you been?  Havent seen you inna while."
"Im still doin my thang, ya know.
Roamin from town ta town, chasin down tail."
"Yous still chillin in dem alleys too?"
"Fa sho!"
"Man, aint a **** thang changed wit chu.
Yous alwayz been a cool cat...”
Universal Thrum Sep 2013
Hey Delilah, whatchu doin tonight
I'm comin right over, we gotta get over our lives..our lives

Hey Delilah, take my hand it is strong
Its gonna get over, we gotta get over your howl..
the sound..of fear

Heed the call now
It's waves resonate in you
shredding the soul
many steps we walk through..to the tune

Circular Paths, streets are callin wild
Resides in our heart
Our vibrational soul
in the while, for awhile, all our days

It would be a sin against my God to live in ignorance of your touch
Feel the Divinity of your womanly warmth, of your warmth
To Explore your innermost fathoms
and the Reflection of Desire in your eye
Found in the sensual meditation of your gaze,
in the night

Our Bodies belong together
The story of their union was told
Long before our birth on this earth, in the old, it was told

Like David on the roof top
For you a man would die in war
So meet me by the hillside
We'll grow old, in the shadow of the wood

Away from tired world notion
of what is right or good
Lay with me next to gurgling streams
Adorned with Gold
Whose gaiety of movement
it will match our own
Finding ******* freedom in the forest
The air both sweet and pure

WE CAN BE TOGETHER
THERE LOST IN TIME
HEED MY CALL IT IS WILD AND WARM IN YOUR EYE,
IN YOUR EYE THROUGH THE NIGHT

HEYAHA!

What I am I don't Know!
I run along Rivers and stand naked in snow
Climb Waterfalls, Smile in Trees, and Howl at the Moon
Surf on the Dunes
Swim in the Sea
Lie on the shore in the breeze
If you should ask me I don't know ask me again
I'll never know my friend

You want something from me
a guarantee
Not mine to give
Falling right over, we gotta get over the fear
of the fear

Feel these arms, they can take you down
fold you right up in the valley of womanly streams
Lost in the waters, Life is a dream

There is nooo goin back....From whence we came
Time is like a river wild, untamed, untamed
Endlessly moving forward
into stratums unknown
Make the most of this moment or ever, forever, feel the pains of cowardice alone

The past is like a window
Burns HOT like the sun
Everyone makes choices and hopes they're not wrong

Life is like a river with so many streams
We all go into the ocean drowning with dreams
With dreams left unsaid

It's been awhile, we're gonna find it again
A human connection, Life is dominated by sin
The material
The desire for more, are we here to acquire a Mate?
A family, a woman, a house?
A couple share their drink


Listen to the river of sand
The torrent of Maia
The reign of illusion, found in your hand
Desire
Are we man enough to face it?
To seize our fates?

We live, as cowards, surviving in shadow
What is our personality, Id or the Ego
Liar...Livin in Time

Standing in the Present Moment
Ignoring my Father again
all things come to an end my friend, your lonely soul therein

Deadened tissue of the heart
nothingness invading
wink of the light
rapturous smile, earthly delight, breeds tomorrow's sorrow

Livin' on the last straw
cresting a turquoise wave
Risking the razor's edge of our fall
Dying with a Song on stage
Sensual desire,
wrapped in the spirit,
touched by the Dark, touched by the Light
Hundred million reasons to fight

Rain Wash this age away
Leave me naked in the wind as I came, as I came
Spread cushioned by the bedding of green moss
Birthed in a forest, sonic cataclysmic sound
Consequence, all our dreamin and dreamin and dreamin around

The cog revolves around the wheel
Fire dancer breathing still
In the harmonium of the heart
Into the night we fly to survive
https://soundcloud.com/universalthrum/heed-the-call-pt-1
https://soundcloud.com/universalthrum/heed-the-call-pt-2
Jared Eli Dec 2013
There once was a boy who was but a slender
Line in a portrait or a smudge on a fender
Nothing more than would be passed by your eye
Was the boy so young who did nothing but cry

The world was a cruel one, but he wasn't so tainted
His picture more perfect than of David's statue painted
But the world would soon tear this boy apart
It would end in the mind what began in the heart

You see, innocence thrives where ignorance rules
For blissfulness is the kindest of the ignorant's tools
But this boy would be taught to feel and to hurt
His tears turned to ash as they fall from lips to dirt

He was now cold and ****** and swore
His opinions had changed when his brother died in the war
There was no point to heaven and less point to hell
When they called out your name, you either stood up or fell

Chipped bricks covered in posters past
Graffiti from people of phrases that last
Like one-liners, humourless, gaining a laugh
And the three-word with the sketch of a heart cut in half

The best philosophes of this past generation
Write thoughts on the wall from their closed imagination
And the boy with his eyes red grew darker
As he reached in his pocket and pulled out a marker

With a couple quick slashes a ballot was drawn
And he labeled the man in the voting booth "pawn"
Underneath it he wrote what might be a phrase
That just didn't catch on in those olden days:

It said, "A stone cast down as in defeat
Will hit thine foot before the street
For he who gives up his voting right
Will have no say in where we fight."

The boy capped the pen and he walked away
He had written down all that he wanted to say
His hands now were smudged from the marks on the wall
And he thought to himself, "In short time, it'll fall"

Right around the corner he was halted by the law
"You thought no one was watching, but guess what, kid? I saw.
The truth is, you're right, we vote for our wars
But the man up on top of the nation? He's yours."

The boy smiled slightly, for this cop was wrong
And he reached deep past the tears in himself to be strong
"That man isn't mine; he approved of this war
And congress has made my brother break the oath that he swore"

The cop looked at boy and the boy at the cop
They weren't talking graffiti, but the man up on top
Two strangers, two people, agreeing the fact
That the choice on the ballot was a serious act

"Most kids don't realize just what a vote can mean
They don't attribute the choice to the step in between
Old ideas corrupted or improved upon
All they know is their voice can make the other guy gone"

The boy nodded and looked the cop right in the eye
Saying, "This president let my brother ship out to die
If you try to make us think that his empathy wasn't fake
Contradiction in contrite diction will no conviction make

"You can't justify death because the harder you try
The more your arguments fade like the clouds in the sky
But before they dissolve and assimilate with the air
They leave behind pain to show that they were there"

The cop nodded, waved, and went back to the beat
More hoodlums and lost souls to help off the street
He passed a dark alley and his instincts erupted
His mind yelling to him, "Check for something corrupted!"

So he turned down in darkness to check out the spot
It looked like a place where blackmarket is hot
The fungus and mold that once grew peeled off
Leaving yellowish stains and the urge to cough

A voice near the brickwork called out saying, "Hey,"
"If it's not to much trouble, mister, couldja stay?
See honest to goodness, mister, I tried to stay clean
But when you take your own product, separation is mean"

"I don't know exactly who is to blame"
Said cop to the girl he could see but not name
"There's no one to blame," said the girl to the man
"There's things that will happen, and with time they all can

"For a creature that thrives on flesh alone
Will bite through the skin to steal the bone
And he must be careful, lest he find
That he's been feasting upon his own behind"

"Yes, sometimes it's true: Desire drives us too fast
Sometimes to places where sanity's long since passed
But sanity's fleeting and must be sought after
Come; let me find you some lodgings and laughter"

"No, mister! I'm a lost cause, my fate's without hope!
Permit me now to symbolize: I'm at the end of my rope!"
"Now miss don't you think like that, No one's soldered to their fate
Such thinking will confine you like a cage with bitter bait!"

This world's harsh and confusing and you've had the short stick
But don't let hopelessness be the only thing that's gonna make you tick
Like treading water in the ocean, panic makes you die
Find beauty out of terror, spread your arms and fly!"

The girl sat there blinking. She'd never heard such talk
She'd never been another thought on anybody's walk
"Now let me tell you, I'm not short on self doubt
But I've got to say: that's not what it's all about

See I met this boy earlier, who told me his story
About how the status of the world often makes him worry
This boy's actin' out, but he'll turn out just fine
But if you're giving up hope, then you're crossing the line

Because we've never needed Merry Men and Robin Hood
To stand up at bugle-call to turn the world good
We just need to remember: We're in it forever!
Fight the urge to look upward and shout angrily, 'Never!'

The world, good and bad, is mixed unto itself
And you can't take you your recipe book from the shelf
And add pinches of falsehoods like seasonings for a mask
You must fix it internally, for that is your task

See, though you've given up, that's something I just won't allow
You're gonna go out and fix it, let somebody show you how
Because there's more than one way to a proper conclusion
Some ways are hard and still others illusion

But become obsessed with the truth, with doin' things right
Become a shining green beacon to lead others at night
Promise me, here and now, in this alley proclaim!
That you will set forth and make good of your name."

The girl gently nodded and as time's hands were wound
She grew like a flower from that dank piece of ground
It's the tiny conversations that can so alter life
And cut the crust of complication like a peace-bringing knife

The boy with his brother who'd gone up in the fight
Was just like the cop said: he turned out alright
He put his mind to better things, gave up the childish art
And in the realm of history, his bio did its part

Because he realized how tangible the change he wanted was
He set aside resentments as the true reformer does
He spoke of love, acceptance. . . And then switched to compromise
Because when you're just a visionary, the vision always dies

He used the good and bad to weld a better, stronger, net
To catch the lost and lonely, his was the best support to get
He filled the heads of others with the change that he once viewed
And little inch by little inch corruption and violence met with feud

A verbal dispute filled with picketing people
Who shouted, "Change!" from their electronic steeple
And the media members had themselves a field day
As they caught on the camera what the boy had to say:

"Too often we forget, that apathy isn't peace
But we allow ourselves to be served it by the leaders filled with grease
And we skip along, ignoring things that should rightly upset us
Bombs abroad are wholly fine but not the one that's gonna get us

We've got to think of the whole picture, got to figure out the puzzle
Though you think the lion's fierce, it always has time to nuzzle
So let's switch the view and take on that trait
And put aside the thought that nuzzling can wait."

The cop saw the boy who was on T.V.
And said to himself, "that kid talked to me!
He smiled a bit, "his speech is pleasing as a wren
And in the case of my boasting, I'll say I knew him when!"

The girl wasn't taped, but she was out changing lives
By having conversations that we've likened to knives
And so it was when time was up on the impending revolution
Armed with words she voyaged forth to fufill her resolution

The boy and she stood side by side and led the people on
And using power words of choice, the old regime was gone
What started out as compromise, effloresced to peace and love
And the cop the two had talked to nodded at boy and girl above

A change in heart, a change in mind, can spark a worldly change
Though originality is difficult, ideas can rearrange
To fit the modern times, and indeed to mold it best
And the answer's sometimes difficult, but as we all know: life's a test

This boy and girl were lost, then found, and so was their whole world
And their string of conversations were around their finger curled
Reminding them that there was out there a better way to live
And revolution was the message that the cop had had to give
princessninann Jun 2015
I don't feel like doin' anything
I don't feel like writin' a poem
I miss my bed, I want to go home
I don't want to move, I can't lift my bone.

I'm too lazy to think of words
My fingers cannot even write this verse
Not moving an inch would be worse
Oh I want to eat something, where's my purse?

I don't feel like goin' outside
I don't want to eat my meal tonight
I don't want to think and decode this byte
I'll sleep, watch movies, eat popcorn... bye.
I really feel lazy while listening to Bruno Mars' lazy song.

— The End —