THE SINS of Kalamazoo are neither scarlet nor crimson.
  
The sins of Kalamazoo are a convict gray, a dishwater drab.
  
And the people who sin the sins of Kalamazoo are neither scarlet nor crimson.
  
They run to drabs and grays-and some of them sing they shall be washed whiter than snow-and some: We should worry.
  
Yes, Kalamazoo is a spot on the map
And the passenger trains stop there
And the factory smokestacks smoke
And the grocery stores are open Saturday nights
And the streets are free for citizens who vote
And inhabitants counted in the census.
Saturday night is the big night.
  Listen with your ears on a Saturday night in Kalamazoo
  And say to yourself: I hear America, I hear, what do I hear?
  
Main street there runs through the middle of the twon
And there is a ***** postoffice
And a ***** city hall
And a ***** railroad station
And the United States flag cries, cries the Stars and Stripes to the four winds on Lincoln's birthday and the Fourth of July.
  
Kalamazoo kisses a hand to something far off.
  
Kalamazoo calls to a long horizon, to a shivering silver angel, to a creeping mystic what-is-it.
  
"We're here because we're here," is the song of Kalamazoo.
  
"We don't know where we're going but we're on our way," are the words.
  
There are hound dogs of bronze on the public square, hound dogs looking far beyond the public square.
  
Sweethearts there in Kalamazoo
Go to the general delivery window of the postoffice
And speak their names and ask for letters
And ask again, "Are you sure there is nothing for me?
I wish you'd look again-there must be a letter for me."
  
And sweethearts go to the city hall
And tell their names and say,"We want a license."
And they go to an installment house and buy a bed on time and a clock
And the children grow up asking each other, "What can we do to **** time?"
They grow up and go to the railroad station and buy tickets for Texas, Pennsylvania, Alaska.
"Kalamazoo is all right," they say. "But I want to see the world."
And when they have looked the world over they come back saying it is all like Kalamazoo.
  
The trains come in from the east and hoot for the crossings,
And buzz away to the peach country and Chicago to the west
Or they come from the west and shoot on to the Battle Creek breakfast bazaars
And the speedbug heavens of Detroit.
  
"I hear America, I hear, what do I hear?"
Said a loafer lagging along on the sidewalks of Kalamazoo,
Lagging along and asking questions, reading signs.
  
Oh yes, there is a town named Kalamazoo,
A spot on the map where the trains hesitate.
I saw the sign of a five and ten cent store there
And the Standard Oil Company and the International Harvester
And a graveyard and a ball grounds
And a short order counter where a man can get a stack of wheats
And a pool hall where a rounder leered confidential like and said:
"Lookin' for a quiet game?"
  
The loafer lagged along and asked,
"Do you make guitars here?
Do you make boxes the singing wood winds ask to sleep in?
Do you rig up strings the singing wood winds sift over and sing low?"
The answer: "We manufacture musical instruments here."
  
Here I saw churches with steeples like hatpins,
Undertaking rooms with sample coffins in the show window
And signs everywhere satisfaction is guaranteed,
Shooting galleries where men **** imitation pigeons,
And there were doctors for the sick,
And lawyers for people waiting in jail,
And a dog catcher and a superintendent of streets,
And telephones, water-works, trolley cars,
And newspapers with a splatter of telegrams from sister cities of Kalamazoo the round world over.
  
And the loafer lagging along said:
Kalamazoo, you ain't in a class by yourself;
I seen you before in a lot of places.
If you are nuts America is nuts.
  And lagging along he said bitterly:
  Before I came to Kalamazoo I was silent.
  Now I am gabby, God help me, I am gabby.
  
Kalamazoo, both of us will do a fadeaway.
I will be carried out feet first
And time and the rain will chew you to dust
And the winds blow you away.
And an old, old mother will lay a green moss cover on my bones
And a green moss cover on the stones of your postoffice and city hall.
  
  Best of all
I have loved your kiddies playing run-sheep-run
And cutting their initials on the ball ground fence.
They knew every time I fooled them who was fooled and how.
  
  Best of all
I have loved the red gold smoke of your sunsets;
I have loved a moon with a ring around it
Floating over your public square;
I have loved the white dawn frost of early winter silver
And purple over your railroad tracks and lumber yards.
  
  The wishing heart of you I loved, Kalamazoo.
  I sang bye-lo, bye-lo to your dreams.
I sang bye-lo to your hopes and songs.
I wished to God there were hound dogs of bronze on your public square,
Hound dogs with bronze paws looking to a long horizon with a shivering silver angel, a creeping mystic what-is-it.

Took my time as I woke myself
Made it my prime, simultaneously fell
Now I'm here, looking back
I built myself along this track

Every day, another piece
Black paint for the formerly white sheep
Learn and learn, watch and imitate
Slowly conforming to the idea of wait

Here I am, I love myself
But nothing to show for it lies on my shelf
Materialism isn't what I desire
What I desire is cognitive fire

Fire that will make me help others
Fire that takes me out from my cover
Still I want more, I can't even reflect
This is me looking back, so I'm not done yet

Every single movement that I made
Every memory I decided to save
Every person I was pleased to have known
Every person who knows I have grown

They made me love all, they set me free
As is they were, so that I could be
Rungs on a ladder, steps up the stairs
Every single one, it is not even fair

It isn't fair that they loved me back
It isn't fair that I was rarely attacked
Why did you let me walk with you always?
Why the kindness, the unconditional praise?

Don't ever change, don't stop moving on
Don't stop moving until your energy is gone
Thank you for taking time to give me your eyes
Thanks for myself, my real grand prize

Thanks if you ever looked in my direction
Thanks for your constantly veiled affection
Thanks if you even gave me any of your words
Thanks for making my voice feel it was heard

I love myself more and more every day
It really helped to be discouraged to dismay
All that I do that I can't really face
You helped me to stop trying to erase

Well now, I have felt love, every day more
And all who I met, hopefully they do too
I hope that I reached you through my actions
I hope I gave anyone some satisfaction

Don't take me back! It's time to move on
All of these memories are already gone
I must move forward, search for better days.
Loved you even more, now a fadeaway

Life is
About getting buckets.
How would Kobe live if he couldn't?
That's a mystery mankind will never truly comprehend.
A bucketless Kobe is a fake Kobe.
The sound of that string music is unmatchable.

The Kareem sky hook.
The Curry j.
The Kobe fadeaway.
The PG windmill.
These are all different forms,
They all get buckets.

Cherish these buckets like no other.
One day you will be old and grey.
Like bill Russell.
You won't be able to get buckets anymore except for in your dreams.
When your career is over. You will miss it.
You can't get buckets forever.

Three hundred sixty five days has passed
Still under the tree I wait
I would no more dare to ask
To myself that is fading away

When did the sky turn gray?
Or are my eyes simply losing it
A memory of each day
Slowly weakens a heartbeat

This is a battle
And it is your final last call
As to pieces I shatter
can you make it... before I fall

I will make your wait worthwhile. With every moment and every smile. You just keep flipping that hour glass making sure that no moments pass. We'll hold on to what's true, we'll always say I love you. We'll hold each others hand as we sprint through the grass, and fall in the leaves as the summers pass. Skating on through this endless time, watching the snowflakes and seeing you shine. We'd watch as seasons flew. we both know that id stay until Id turn gray and the nights fadeaway because i cherish those moments with you. We'd stay until the day that one of us would say that I'll be waiting for you. As time goes by and the seasons fly by our strong lovers story would be through. He'd smile at the day when he could lay down and say don't worry I've come back to you.

I will make your wait worthwhile.

With every moment and every smile.

You just keep flipping that hour glass making sure that no moments pass.

We'll hold on to what's true, we'll always say I love you.

We'll hold each others hand as we sprint through the grass, and fall in the leaves as the summers pass.

Skating on through this endless time, watching the snowflakes and seeing you shine.

We'd watch as seasons flew.

we both know that I’d stay until I’d turn gray and the nights fadeaway because i cherish those moments with you.

We'd stay until the day that one of us would say that I'll be waiting for you.

As time goes by and the seasons fly by our strong lovers story would be through.

They’d smile at the day when they could lay down and say don't worry I've come back to you.

i wasn't tired until you
fell into my arms

and i wasn't tired until
i threw a thousand
weightless snowdrops
to the ground

and i didn't hurt until
the first word
and now
my home is a loud
roar of reverberations
that pass through me

(like a million spoken knives)

and i didn't understand
pain. Until your somebody
stumbled into me

and i couldn't let go
(because they were made of ash)

and i felt the weight
of so many somebodies
(suddenly)

and i began
to think

that - my existence
(the sea
the sky
and the nothing between)
manifested to
pulverize
the
planet
with
each
further
strained
breath
until
it
can
feel
each
pinprick
loss
of
life
it
enforces.

And maybe my rage
forged bellowing
stormclouds over deserts
or made rivers flow backwards
from storm surge (tear driven)
but the somebody i'm not

and the somebodies i carry

will never
be more threatening
than a fadeaway
wind that cries with the lone
wolf.

Every morning I wake up
Hopeful, Ambitious, Pretty
I feel like this could be the day all my problems fadeaway
I feel I could take on the world and beat it with one swift jab
Till I turn on my lifeless phone and it’s back to the same old drab
I see news articles about wars, famine and greed
I try to look away but it’s on every site so I guess I must read and read
It makes me feel sad, it makes me feel hopeless
I woke up feeling I was free but now I’m four walls boxed in and the freedom was just a silly dream
Everyday I go to bed feeling that one day things might change
But even when I’m focused, all I feel is pain

When the morning comes and the
sunlight opens its bright dimensions
inside my veins, all the tears that I've
shed over your fadeaway world will
be nonexistent.  I don't know why I
allow your love to disentangle my mind,
how its destructive vowels intensify
and explode in the most despicable
ways, how my lifeless eyes are grey
and drained, stained and changing,
drowning and dying, a scarred shape
sinking under bursting volcanoes.  
I'm so done with the consistent
arguing, the slanted diction rising
and falling, falling and rising.
so confused and creeping in slippery
mud.  What is it about your dangerous
passion that keeps me lingering inside
your existence, the good times that
shifts into damaged affection,
how every warm sensation falls
apart and shatters in the dark,
how the trees shake their leaves
in disgrace, a splitting state stabbing
my soul in the dreary air.
My thoughts are drifting in itself,
and I'm afraid that I can no longer
carry on inside slammed snapshot
world.  I'm all cried out my love
and my heart can't take another
brutal beating by the hands of
your smashed kingdom.