Step 1 get money Step 2 repeat the first never get high on your own supply that'll buy you a hearse it hurts to have to hit the corner till dawn feed death to my people but I've never been underneath a steeple I couldn't afford the time only church I know is where I lay these rhymes I'll split the Indonesia with the dude who had a seizure I believe ya but the gat don't, so to insure my profits your brains will splat don't take it personal I'm just trying to survive until the sunrise I'm not legal but the streets always advertise I advise you to stay away from my path the ballad of a Hustler cut up into halves

may the way that gives way to this accord of may be in awe of truth and not the fruits of disarray

I shall be meditating upon the roads travelled and many discoveries gather that I have unravelled

I shall curl my high excitements and misguided ambitions to unfurl what the calls of the wise unfurl and admonish

In the mist amidst the tricking twists of fits and false gists, may I hold up fists that will seize to desist and delete the disease of fallacy in curtailed wit

In the shadows dark, some pale
may I not fade into the tales of lies and manipulative games

In the guise of dames so modern and fabulously inclined to fame,
may I guage and carry my animosity into the mystery of my identity where only the genuine and real can relate

In the encounters with material and all that deters from the mystic and ethereal,
I hope to remember the real surreal to surmise the reels of fantasy thrills in graphic frills and euphonic trills

However the gigantic systems of the world in money, greed, vanity or lust, may doctor sickness into the souls of the lost and weak:
may my heart remain meek and my vision bright and led by the lens of the soul....

With or without I pray not as a religious pilgrim but a sage seeking neverending Light... ever the more grateful, harnessing the grapes of creation, worshiping a servant's code in humility.

hustling about this rash hassle of life overshadowed by pyramids and castles
remaining true to the cause even when temptation is endlessly bustling about
remember remember the hustle when you were down and out without

the ****** on fifth street
don’t ask you to buy whiskey;
they take it from you.

there are too many
words—lascivious, lewd, *****—
used to describe them.

and too many names—
**** ***** harlot ***** *****—
used to deride them.

you want one tonight
someone who’ll snort ketamine
whose laugh sounds like bells.

someone to talk to
for thirty bucks an hour;
the best ones come cheap.

the best ones come drunk
(when they’re not doing molly)
and dance in the street.

the best ones wear rouge
that glows under streetlights and
rubs off on your lips.

the best ones **** quick
and leave quicker—out through the
back door, and lights out.

She sneaks in undetected,
turns off the light
and turns on the lamps;
then like a ghost she is gone.

My sanity is fleeting with every flicker.
Questioning myself,
once, twice.
What ghost was here?

They'll rather die complaining.
They'll rather die hurting.
I'll rather die, trying.

I'll rather die trying.
This is the life of a hustler.
This is the life of an entrepreneur.

I'll rather die trying!
Backward never, forward ever hustler!
Backward never, forward ever entrepreneur!

They'll rather die hurting!
They'll rather die complaining.
Forward ever, backward never hustler!
Forward ever, backward never entrepreneur.
I'll rather die trying.

-Written by the Senior Date: 22/08/2021

For a Child of 1918

My grandfather said to me
as we sat on the wagon seat,
"Be sure to remember to always
speak to everyone you meet."

We met a stranger on foot.
My grandfather's whip tapped his hat.
"Good day, sir. Good day. A fine day."
And I said it and bowed where I sat.

Then we overtook a boy we knew
with his big pet crow on his shoulder.
"Always offer everyone a ride;
don't forget that when you get older,"

my grandfather said. So *****
climbed up with us, but the crow
gave a "Caw!" and flew off. I was worried.
How would he know where to go?

But he flew a little way at a time
from fence post to fence post, ahead;
and when ***** whistled he answered.
"A fine bird," my grandfather said,

"and he's well brought up. See, he answers
nicely when he's spoken to.
Man or beast, that's good manners.
Be sure that you both always do."

When automobiles went by,
the dust hid the people's faces,
but we shouted "Good day! Good day!
Fine day!" at the top of our voices.

When we came to Hustler Hill,
he said that the mare was tired,
so we all got down and walked,
as our good manners required.

I have found myself related to Gomer;
yes, I am also a hustler.
She had relationships with different men,
while I engaged myself with my own selfish plans.
She slept with them for so many nights,
while I slept with selfless thoughts, unaware it wasn't right.
She had correlation thinking it was alright,
while I linked myself with faulty motives and to it I delight.
We were ****** in our different ways.
Unrighteous deeds we both had praised.
It corrupted her mind and body,
while it made me a ******* spiritually.
In the midst of my unfaithfulness and cruelness,
I have found love and forgiveness.
For love came down and bought me with a price,
showed me the beautiful meaning of sacrifice.
The blood of the lamb cleansed and restored my impure soul.
An enough reason that makes me whole.

*-Steph Dionisio, December 02, 2015

Narrowed visions of the limitless heights of hope
Dreams deferred not dashed or shattered like glass
Head held high to the sky
Feet always grounded never caught off guard

Hopeless

Dark clouds Dark Thoughts
Altered by substances poisoning the community
These hands Those hearts hardened by this cold existence
His hands Her thighs Their minds killing the hopes of the future

Savage

The stench of failure and poverty reeks throughout the streets
Hunger pains and dope fiends screams vibrate the streets like a sick beat
Cries of the children young and old scatter the air with grief and unbearable pain
A young man dead A young woman ***** harsh realities simmer in this mixing bowl of misery

Numb

Hopes Dreams fears ignored by the outside looking in
The mindset of a hustler taught to struggle and fight the hard way
A better life shown in the gleam of a child eye
Reality worsens with the smell of death

Ghetto Dreams

When the world is in trouble and theres nowhere left to turn.
Well your **** outta luck till then theres the Gonzo report.

Live from hidden location in a Florida basment broadcasting
now it's time for the Gonzo report.
With your team of in depth and seldom sane news team.

Your anchor man Gonzo   co Anchor that Batsheba
weather chick Neva finally gotta mention Flores.
Sports with your favorite ****** Richard Shepard.

And then theres Paula Swanson  who's sitting on my other side
I dont really know why  but eveyone likes Paula so who gives a *****.
Who wants a sandwhich im just saying.
And are field reporters Jeremy Wyatt,Chris Smith,And Mr E,

This just in.
A old man lost control of his car running over 17 people
and seriously ******* off one dwarf.
And if your keeping track at home kids it's old farts 20 crazy texting while driving teen *****   15.

Theres big trouble in Cairo kiddies  with more  no the situation
are own version  of snooky Bathsheba   take it away.
the camera zooms into  the   queen of Hello.
I swear to God Gonzo if  dont back the **** up i will knife you
you crazy *******  and put some ****** pants on you ******.

Yes Bathsheba ******* the outside  and  kinda ****** all around as well
but enough with the foreplay children.
Oh look Paula made cookies!
Baths began here report on troubles that had befallen this country
And as i mixed a drink it made me wonder.
Were the **** is Eygpt.

Opps looks like i dropped my cookie.
Like a mighty ninja with a hot flash I was met with a searing
pain to my nose.
In the name of Cindy Crawford what was that for?

Thats for even thinking bout going under that table.
But .
No Baths replyed  then hit me again.
The pain the agony my modeling carear.

Now with coverage from the World Series  heres Richard Shepard
Richard Can you here us.
The cam camera  cut  to a shot of a monkey masterbaiting in the Bronx zoo.

Yes the production team of Goldie and Joel M Frye
when not watching hot oil dwarf  varsity wrestling death match
there top notch.

Richard  dear lord man were on air it's no time for that now.
This isnt Chris's  bachelor party.
That isnt Richard you ****** Baths  spoke in that charming yet
Voice that told me if i didnt stop I might get a free *** change
voice of her's.

And it's not the world Series you half wit it's the Superbowl.
No  wonder  there was no mention of the stanley cup.
Baths what do you not know.
So after i mixed another wild turkey and put a mirror under
Paula's nose to make sure she was still breathing.
I told her  the roofies really help with the nerves.

Finally The artist formely known as Jack Horner   was live on the screen  from some cult meeeting it appeared.
*** they've captured Fergie.
Richard take it away.

Well these ***** keeping fighting over this ball.    
Runnin back  and ****** forth its driving me ****** bonkers.
Oh yeah amigo I these knickers ya asked for.
Richard held a pair of black *******  to the camera yeah
smell of  no talent  and overproduced songs.
dam you slash.

Back in the studio.
Ummm haha well i didnt ask him to steal anyones *******.
Paula broke the awkward silence i dont wanna go to school.
Paula you alright?
***** you John Travolta.

Ok well also at the world series of poker Jeremy Wyatt and he's got a special guest Taylor Swift.
Great god of the traveling  flying squirrell monkeys pants.
anything but her.

Screaming like a naughty little school girl with a  bad texting  habit
on a unlimted plan i dove underneath the news desk for it's better
die at the heels of Baths and a tap dancing kinda drugged Paula than   face a evil more sinister than Drew Dillegence or Ghandi  combined.

Jeremy was in the danger zone note even knowing it for beneath that
yummy little body layed the soul of satan  himself.

It was Nashvile  a few whiskey laced years ago  I was a drummer
for local sessions  she was 16 I.
well I wasnt.
you mix in some drugs s0me cars crashes knocking over a liquor store or two.  
That little hell cat had a thirst for danger  and some  lets just say
weird habbits   okay it was more like a curse.

Strange things happend to here past lovers.
John Mayer,  The gay cowboy from Broke Back Mountain  you know
that movie about the sinking ship, and that lesbian  from the Jonas Brothers.

Yes just as soon as she wrote a song you were good as dead.
You'd vanish to here secret torture chamber were her music played
non stop   and your blood was drained slowley so she could feed
her own talent or lack there of.

Jermy puzzled  hey Gonz you there Baths umm Paula ?
Underneath the saftey of are second hand news desk hey look gum.
huddled togather like three okay one drunk monkey and a passed out frat sister and a very ******* Baths please dont stab me im
fragile   like a aged bottle of good whiskey im just saying.

We gotta make a brake for it look Baths  you distract her im blowing this joint  like a long winded madman  on a five day binge
let loose on old country buffet.

Baths   spoke   in a  language  that was always a challenge  for me
called sanity.
Gonz if you dont let me out from under this desk.
Im going to rip your heart out and feed it to the  homless dwarfs.
And heres a napkin Paula's drooling on you.

I have a heart?

After a brief break.
And another check to make sure Paula was still breathing we
returned.
Dear lord where's Jeremy!

Screams could be herd Jesus Richard   it's no time for killing hookers
But 10 dollar beers  are a real kick in the ***.
Oh well Wyatts  gone he'll be missed.
this just in Taylor Swift to release her new single Why  Not  Jeremy!

Dear lord sweet sallys *** it was code she had taken him hostage
in the love of all things lady gaga  someone had to save my amigo.
except me  cause that ***** was crazy  and she's got a hell of a bite
im just saying  stay  strong   Jeremy  and think happy thought's

I could feel the ****** clamps and smell the burning flesh
from the car battery as we speak but enough  bout me and skeeters
personal life.

now its time for the weather with finally she's gotta mention Neva voice like a angel  Flores.
thanks Gonz that southern bombshell replyed okay in the south.

Alright Neva that was great  like i need to hear the weather.
I havent been outside in  seven years.

This just in Mr E  has been taken hostage in Cairo.
Well kids all i can say is as much as this hurts
we dont deal with terrorist  like we could raise a hundred bucks.

The bulletin came across the wire Raitch with a look of dont **** with me   Gonzo  although Pepples  thinks your okay in a ***** kinda pervert way.

All hells breaking loose  a all girls school for hot super models    
in trainng.
Baths  in shock and mock concern replyed oh dear lord.
I dont who has chops to cover such a story in short notice.
Raitch  Oh Baths I dont know either   ive herd  there ripping  each others clothes off   hair pulling its worse than a prison riot with
hot half naked strippers.

Baths kept speaking but in the name of chain gang women
i was lost deep in thought over ******* and world events
while downloading  pictures of Fergie eating a banana
what im a health nut okay.

Yeah I dont know who should go cover such a story right now hint.
Gonzo Baths and Ratich spoke like a tag team of terror hint!
Hey I should go shouldnt  I  ?

Yeah Gonz  ya think ?

With some ***** looks from the people who much like my family
wish id forget there names.
So they wouldnt have to join the witnness relocation program
i love it when they play hard to get.

Finally i was off the trusty Gonzo Report news van  waitting for me a bottle of wild turkey and some fine reading materials by that thinkers mag hustler waitting in the back.

There my amigos stood standing togather waving goodbye.
crying tears of joy hey is that a keg?
Chris on the turntables im beginnning to think it was a party.

But if Chris  was there just who was driving the Gonzo van!

The little dwarf laughed in glee as we flew threw town
like Charlie Sheen on a coke binge.
I was tossed around  like a beach ball at greatful dead concert
as finally   over the cliff the van flew.

There was a explosion that could be herd for at least a half a mile
course that was drowned out by the party.

The party was in full swing  finally Paula awoke.
Hey what the  hell happend and why is Trimman
******* my leg?

                                  
                                  Is Gonzo really Dead?  
    
    Will Jeremy Wyatt ever escape the *** dungeon of Taylor Swift.
                    
                        Will Richard Shepard ever put out a book
                        how kick lots of **** yet win the hearts of millions
                        and do a co write with lady GaGa and Mel Gibson?


                    Will Neva Flores  get ****** over her five second
                     mention hunt me down  and torture me for hours
                     im just saying  a girls got needs.


                    Will Paula Swanson  kick Trimman like a field goal
                                                    or just pass back out?

               Find out in the next action packed trillogy  called
                                          The Death Of Gonzo  

                       Untill  Next Time Stay Crazy Kids

A hustler raised in a the city
Is a natural born businessman
Destined to make millions

I bent down to her ear and said
Thank you for all you’ve done
Not just for
NY
But for the World
She looked at me expressionless from her chair
I don’t think that she understood nor cared
Then I handed her a little
Bag
Containing two lipsticks
And two pencils
I think she threw the pencils on the floor and
Wondered aloud
Why was everyone giving her pencils?

She did not notice that of the two that I gave her
one was stamped in gold
With the one word
Hustler
And on the other, two
Strictly
Business
I made no suggestions nor references
I didn’t smirk
I must have appeared a bit sweet
A treacly aberration

It doesn’t matter
I had selected two perfect reds in LA
One a bit more blue
and one
a classic vampish carmine
Blood red can be a challenge even against
pale
pale
Skin.

Standing in the lift
Fully attuned
she caught me
not merely looking into her eyes
But seeing what I saw
A death’s head?
I hate when I’m caught doing that

Under the fluorescent light
She was dog rough
Pasty with sad sunken eyes
I was thrown, but by what exactly
Her magpie distress?
Her etheric calamity?
Her puffy, aging face?

We sat and spoke for a while later that night
She did not recognize me at all and apologized
maybe it was the next day
that the three of us had lunch
Everyone in good spirits
The mandrake’s screams
Forgotten with smiles and a wink
Memory bamboozled and
Make-up duly applied
She took out the lipstick
And redrew the lines
She liked the shining black case
with the little black ribbon for a pull

She told our companion sitting on a stoop
smoking cigarettes
I like your friend and
I wondered does she realize
that we already know one another?

I am tired of being torn
But inside I know im being warned
I gatta choose, but this feeling inside wont let me loose
I got a real good man in my life, takes care of me and treats me right
Shopping sprees, trips around the world, **** this man even buys me diamonds and pearls
He spends quality time with me and when im down he makes sure that I don’t wear a frown
But I have a secret that’s so bad, being torn like this is so dam sad.
I got a man in my life who wants to do right
And a **** who loves on me every single night
Bald headed, Strong, muscular, ****** chocolate
Tall, dark and handsome
tattoos all over his body
Tongue ring in his mouth and when he kisses me all over he makes me tremble and shout
DAM I love u boo!
I call him my mandingo cause he’s so true
The *** is so good, tears roll down my eyes and I cry tears of joy
And wish he would never stop and for a moment I think im in love
Forgetting this ****  aint nothing but a scrub.
He’s a hustler, gangsta, liar and thief
I said all those bad things but still he makes me weak
I got a good man in life he just proposed
I don’t wana  loose, but this man  he gat me so confused.
And now im pregnant, and I feel like ****
Cause I don’t even know who my baby daddy is
I cant tell my fionce im having second thoughts
You should see him, he’s so excited about this new life im bringing forth.
What do I do this **** don’t even care
He disappeared off the face of this earth and went some where
And now  im stuck with a seed that was planted in side of me
Cause all I wanted was some fun!
Now I have to live with the bad mistakes that I made
Being torn like this really doesn’t make my day
Ladies if you got a good man in your life
Please love and treat your man right
Be faithful and true, cause if you don’t I guarantee it’ll  come back
AND HURT YOU!
Written By- Shakela Donnet Storr

Let's get high
why not said the dark angel
Don't cry just fill it with this.
Ignore it.
**** it.
Just do it.
Let's go home.
I'm lost.
Where's did the love in this world go?
I'm in pain
I'll just smile
Nod my head say "yeah its been a while"
"It's in gods hands" says the old man.
Why isn't god carrying me?
Let's share a needle
It's a secret that I got hep C.
Let's ****.
What's love? When you got to get another hit.
You lost me at hello
but I'll stare until you say goodbye.
My mind runs
Ive been awake for days.
I'll stay in bed for hours.
I'll miss you,
even though I shouldn't.
*******,
you know who you are.
Yeah I said it and I'll say it again
*******!

yesterday we used to pray
today you say it ought not be that way
I was born in the gutter my mother was a *****
she sold her junk in the trunk in back of the liquor store
I was raised by my grandma Mable
feeding her dog underneath the table
back then as a young G living came most naturally
as the years would pass having every reason to grasp
those silly days of my youth with the loose tooth
shopping trips at the nearby mall
playing bat and ball at the end of my street
Pop Rocks those fancy socks eating candy with the dots
loose lips sinks ships took some time to move those hips
Went to high school thought I was way to cool
smoking **** listening to boom box with Scot Lerock
block parties that where it began the day I became a man
working on my tan selling dope down at the 8th Street Station
getting busted by the cops doing time
made a name for myself on the streets
The hustler was soon released had the best of suits but a noose around my neck
What the heck had to put things in check
Had my mind on my money but my money was gone
Until that day I went to church payed a visit with the savior
Now I get high with the Lord up in the sky
No fly by or getting shot in the eye
God is good to those who love & put him first
Most of my friends were in the back seat of a hearst
The moral of this dope joint is have faith in God
Forget about your good for nothing friends yet who are they anyway
Let us learn to stay humble everyday and bow the knee to pray
Couldn't share my story any other way

Look, I just want to move you.
Woo you.
Shake you loose but never lose you.
I want to
Savor the glazed reverent silence
Of your gasping, ungrasped breath.
Sip it down till there's nothing left
Yet still explain all the rest.
See, it's time I unearth some gold.
Nothing here sold.
Just given freely to slurp up,
served up cold.
But I dare not go it alone.
Not when there's so many heplping hands
Beyond my own.
So I first court Eloquence.
She's an easy mark to find,
volubly masticating volumes
while leisurely lathering her tanned,
Leather skin.
Dolloping her monocle-bodied features
In librarian sin.
She says...
"My dear boy.
Berate them NOT
with your false start,
lethargic oddities.
Your penchant,
Melancholic falsities.
You must but grunt through the trudgery
Of your muddy misgivings,
And birth only accessible
Pertinent notions.
Neither precarious nor
Incongruous to the truth!
Robby.
You must simply relinquish your
Intrepid, frenzied paucities!
So I dismiss the diss.
Since
her big scary words are kinda lost to me.
Evidently, though,
I must need a Joe Blow.
An Everyman.
A Streetcorner Clairvoyant.
I turn to
(drum roll)
Raunchiness.
His beer belly **** and **** jokes
And dollar store aftershave suggest
A pleasing 'pull-my-finger' charm
that just might turn the trick.
He licks his lips,
And chides through a buck-tooth,
Spit shine smile.
Sheeeooot, boy,
That there one's easy.
All you gotsta do is
Go down deep
And speak from your gut.
Tell em how you feel..
How you REALLY feel.
Tell em..
shoot, tell em they rub you just right,
You might well feel as ***** as
Your gas gauge after a good pump.
As ***** as a McD's wrapper
Corner-pinch-discarded like
A used diaper hammock.
Yeah! You tell em your as ******
As a receptacle
For used diaper hammocks!
Hells yeah.
Girls will eat that **** up!
And say you're as gay as rainbow gold
As straight as an arrow-head.
As misled as finding your folks are still *** fiends
or as contradictory as ***** like me!
Boy, you are as con-fused as the
Lumpy, stumpy, pimply dimpled teen who finds out
Santa Claus IS real!
And he's hanging out loose
In every single Hustler Magazine!
Now hear me boy.
If they still don't care,
Or they see that you're scared,
Just say you feel as guilty as midnight dials
From parents of Girls-Gone-Wild,
sneering,
"Well shoot, sugar plum.
You sure ain't been feeling
Real secure in awhile."
And as he loosely labels me
As awkward as **** thermometers,
As misunderstood as **** plugs,
I give Raunchiness a dismissive shrug,
And return to the mystery
Of what I've missed from me,
Whatever still may be
My own poetic style.

My Lucifer, unwitting Muse, dog-eared Vonnegut,
          afrobeatnik third eye, howls escaping
from your headphones, wailing about secrets, about infidelity,
          about analyzing life until there ain’t nothin’
left. Then you shuffle by in your black and white Adidas,
          hair in twists, wearing the striped sweater
of nihilistic intent, quoting the rants of Holden Caulfield
          in your blog like you never didn’t know him.
I never asked to know you, to want who I can’t have
          when I can’t even love myself. And every fiber
Of my being yearns for reciprocation. What is there
          to return? What is there to feel, you meditate on truth,
fallen angel in the parlor of rebellion, blasphemous goodbye,
          bright and morning star simpering like crickets in the palms
of daybreak. Your musicality radiates from subway chatter
          and overheard profanity down El Camino Real.
I take in your ballad at my post office mailbox,
          in the abandoned echoes of daydream monologues.
You’re a philosopher, exploring theory of mind, a cartographer,
          mapping the labyrinth of your deepest desires.
Tell me again about desires, demonstrations of divine sadism. Tell me
          about human empathy, the animated faces of wordless expression,
the metaphysics of free will, my beginning and my end,
          alpha and omega, my fortress in the land of chic.
Blasphemous hustler, let your idealism simmer, your wit, your mojo,
I come to you an amateur, a neophyte, a lowly scab
in the strike against ignorance. Give me my melody, my song,
          my one-hit-wonder of all that is cliché and unknown.
But I can’t be the other woman, your girlfriend, your aspiring
          ******* bunny only 10-bucks-a-throw. Your highness-who-yells-
his-ideas-into-the-ears-of-echoes, your every quirk spellbinds me.
          Each day I wake to your entourage vibrato.
I am held captive by your brooding stare, empress of liberal
          doves. You visit in my dreams when the sky is a force of darkness
viewing light through peepholes, your flaws an aphrodisiac, a love drug,
          a fast hit in the basement from the ecstasy of words.

"Your father wants to talk to you"
"He said he'll meet you at the club"
I thought, I haven't done much wrong
And therin lies the rub
Sixteen years old, the time had come
For the old many to do his duty
He was gonna tell me just the things
To help me land some ******
I changed my shirt, got showered quick
And drove off to meet my dad
I always wondered what this'd be like
You know, it made me kind of glad
Most things I knew, I got from friends
And most I guess was wrong
My mum said, "He'll buy dinner"
So, I guessed the talk was long
I'd seen Playboys, Penthouse, Hustler babes
they all set my mind ablaze
I think I saw a **** girl once
Not sure though, there was haze
I parked the car and grabbed my clubs
Met my dad on the first tee
He said "Boy, I'm glad to see you're here"
"I'll be back, I've got to ***"
I said that Mom informed me that
It was time to have the "talk"
He said "I guess we'll take a cart"
"We can't have the chat and walk"
I waited for the first big point
Information that I'd need
You see, the stuff I'd heard till then
Was nothing good or that I'd heed
"Son"....he said and cleared his breath
Here it comes, the talk had started
"Remember to excuse yourself"
"so no one knows you've farted!"
What the hell was that I thought
Maybe he was warming up
He took another sip of beer
But, he would not put down the cup
"Son, this is not easy..."
"There's alot I want to say"
I thought OK here goes
Today will be the day
"Never...never leave de-icer"
"In the car on an icy winter day"
"It won't help you inside the car"
"And you;ll still need triple A"
What? I thought...that's not the talk
This would not help me get laid
"Son, always put some cash aside"
"Every week when you get paid"
"Dad, are you sure this is the talk"
"The one we're supposed to do"
"I thought this was about having ***"
"That's what I had thought...did you?"
"Son, you have to give me time"
"I'm new at this you know"
"I'm sorry Dad, It's just....I thought"
"We'd talk of strippers and of hoes"
"We'll get there son, just give me time"
Then he hit me with a thought
"you can use an old banana peel"
"to clean shoes stained with salt"
salt stains, savings, locked doors, farts
This was not what I expected
But, at least he was here, out with me
And his duty was not neglected
"Dad, I know most of this stuff"
"And I know this is quite tough"
"But, I thought we'd speak of other things
"Like treating women soft or rough"
"****, son....I can't tell you that"
"Your mum would have my nuts"
"I can tell you lots of other things"
"If I did, she'd whip our butts"
"Now, listen close I've more to say"
"It's how to remove a broken light"
"You can use an raw potato"
"Stab it then you turn it right"
"Thanks, dad....but, I'm gonna go"
"As soon as we're done nine"
"I'm gonna go out to the mall"
"You can go and drink some wine"
"I appreciate your candor"
"And Dad, thanks for the advice"
"But, most of this you've said before"
"And now I've heard it twice"
"I'm sorry son, I tried my best"
"But if it's the *** talk that you want"
"I guess I'll have to do it"
"It's just not knowledge that I flaunt"
"Listen close, I'll not say this again"
So, I pulled the golf cart off  to the side
It was finally gonna happen
I hope the talk was worth the ride
He took a breath and stared at me
Then in one almighty rush
Came a word barrage like none I'd heard
It was an awful aural crush
"NEVER DATE TIJUANA HOOKERS
THEY WILL MAKE YOUR THING GO GREEN
THEY DO NOT ALWAYS SHOWER
AND MOST ARE REALLY MEAN
WEAR A ****** WHEN YOU DO IT
ALWAYS CLEAN UP WHEN YOU'RE DONE
NEVER TELL A GIRL YOU LOVE THEM
UNTIL YOU'RE SURE THAT THEY'RE THE ONE
YOU'LL NEVER UNDERSTAND EMOTIONS
I'M 52 AND I DON'T YET
AND IT'S EASIER TO ENTER
WITH FOREPLAY TO GET HER WET
NEVER TELL YOUR GIRLFRIEND
EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANT TO DO
AND ALWAYS  ASK "CAN WE MAKE LOVE?"
AND DON'T SAY "WANNA *****?"
The Old man, sat, exhausted
I just sat there, stunned as well
He got the talk done in one big sentence
It was something that I would not tell
We'd bonded at that moment
Father, Son had reached a stage
Where we both could not return from
We both had turned the page
I hugged him close and shook his hand
I thought, this talk could not be nicer
"Dad" I said...."Please tell me more"
"Where should I store the lock de-icer?"

bigger,
means better,
older,
means smarter,
muscular:
a two faced hustler
comeback after comeback
lie after lie
yet we never know why

When asked what there is to gain while attending college, most of the time the answer is a great experience, time to find out who you really are and how to fulfill your career goals. For some, figuring out what career field to enter and finding out who they are is easier said than done. Others might be lucky enough to have a moment of epiphany and realize exactly what they are meant to do.

Tae Lynn is one of the lucky ones. On the morning of October 13, 2015 she woke up and decided to launch her own makeup brand, Tae Lynn MUA.

Lynn is a senior spanish major with a minor in information systems, however, art has always been a passion of hers. Using her artistic skills she turned the faces of her client’s, into her canvas.

“I had to find an outlet and makeup definitely filled that void. It’s very lucrative and wherever I go people need their makeup done,” Lynn said.

Lynn also incorporated the “hustler” mentality and business savvy skills she learned from her business fraternity, Delta Sigma Pi, to build her brand. She made an instagram specifically to showcase her work, posted fliers around campus and used her connects to start the buzz on her brand.

However, the feedback that she received after launching her brand wasn’t the most positive. People posted negative comments about her work, which almost deterred Lynn from continuing to make a name for herself in the makeup industry until she had that defining moment, an epiphany.

When she went home to Atlanta for Thanksgiving, her car was stolen Thanksgiving night. Everything she had brought home over the break was gone, except for her makeup bag that contained all of the makeup she owned. It was the only thing she brought in the house.

“That was my epiphany moment and I ran with it. From that point on, I felt that was God’s way of telling me that this what you’re meant to do,” Lynn said.

After that “defining moment” as Lynn calls it, her brand took off like a rocket. Using her skills she has been able to meet celebrities, work for a makeup studio in downtown Statesboro and fashion shows held at Georgia Southern. The most significant event she participated in was New York Fashion Week as a published makeup artist.

Her work was noticed by the creator of a clothing line ran out of New York called Wise Guy Apparel. The creator asked her to be a makeup artist for their boutique fashion show in New York Fashion Week.

“I loved being a part of that fierce, fast-paced environment, but because all the models needed were touch-ups here and there, I wasn’t able to showcase my talent,” said Lynn.

Working in New York Fashion Week was definitely a confidence booster for Lynn and it helped her realize her worth, despite the negative criticism. She even uses the hashtag “#knowmyworth” frequently as a reminder that “you can’t let people deter you.”

“Over time I used those negative comments as motivation and I just got better at my craft, so I was able to overcome that through just being confident and knowing my worth,” Lynn said.

Lynn has a Style Seat profile where clients can book appointments with prices that range from $7-$200. She’s also available for booking in both Statesboro and Atlanta, GA. Customers have nothing put positive things to say now about Lynn’s services.

“I like the way my face transformed and it made me look a bit older. I’d definitely go to her again,” Sade McMullen, junior business management major, said.

Lynn plans on making Tae Lynn MUA a global brand one day or at least well known in the south. In order to reach her goals she simply just takes it one day at time.

Her motto is “Don’t shoot for the stars, shoot for small goals that’ll get you there”.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/backless-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses

she was a single mother,
mother of three,
children had no father figure
all of them had to grow up trying
to figure out what father means to them.
she was tired of men whistling and tripping
over her big behind.
see, she held on her hands a university degree
seems her life was stuck on day volunteering
and night waitressing.

all she ever wanted was a man who would
sweep her off her feet and be a leader to her
kids.

no luck, all she ever met were *******,
pimps and hustler all who had the intention
to bust a nut on her.

so the black unicorn sang, mama i need
your prayers, mama i need God's hands.
pray for me again, again and again.

night light's light shines too bright on
these electricity bills and the landlord
dont even care how she feel.
said, "if you laid on this table any time for me, you
wont need to worry about the rent, boo"
so she did it.

every time he touched her, he ripped off
parts of her spirit.

so the black unicorn sang, in jazz clubs while
the kids stayed with grandma. she sang
a piece of mind just to get a peace of mind.

she was tired of being told she was beautiful
because every finger laid on her was a *******
to her beautiful skin, queen.

she was tired of "im not ready","its not you, its me".
she was tired of wearing her heart on her sleeve.

The Black Unicorn still sings.

Once I held you in my arms,
I loved you in my sleep,
above the traffic
and the circumstance,
above the slaughter of the sheep.

You made me sing at my guitar,
a grown man falling to defeat.
Now I cannot find The Answer
in the company I keep.

The game is rigged, we know it is,
in a hustler's *******,
the bank cartels
and corn-fed chicken
descend upon the weak.

I held you in my arms
on a precipice brave and steep,
above the breadlines
and the cannibals,
above the slaughter of the sheep.

You have me writing poetry
about landscapes left unseen,
you kissed the addict on the mouth
and now he's looking to get clean.

But the day is long, you know it is,
forgive me for sounding bleak,
a sucker for
those sad, sad songs,
and that chemical retreat.

I am not working on perfection
in a lifetime stretched and brief,
but I am working on a promise
that for once,
I intend to keep.

See, I've got a knack for giving up,
for feigning inner peace,
I've had my fill of oil spills
and the slaughter of the sheep.

You've felt it too, that burdened love,
the dead-end of familiar streets,
you lay down with him,
habitual ease;
lilac skin now a slab of meat.

The dignitaries come,
the friends you have to meet,
a compromise of ancient ties,
amongst the ******
and the thief.

Words are falling fast for you,
though I lack the skill to piece
all the fragments you paint for me
in this temple of disease.

The race is run, you know it is,
a pace we couldn't keep,
our lungs are full
of cigarettes,
our tongues of old deceit.

The Lie is out amongst the crowds,
but I have no time for war and peace;
I am slipping into
my lover's robe,
into your twisted sheets.

Once I held you in my arms,
I loved you in my sleep,
this wolf's disguise,
those bells that chime
at the slaughter of the sheep.

The Skyscrapers are so high, they seem to touch the passing sky.Freely the puffy white clouds fly, with the birds, mile-high. A high-flying pigeon peeks down from it's perch on a high-rise. The temperature, high eighties, a clock blinks three thirty-five. Tupac bumping from the speakers stock, Pandora blaring from a jukebox. Mercedes windows rattle, when the speakers knock, like forte knots. The sound carries for blocks, but its blocked. By the hustle and bustle of the pavement blocks. Cold streets, paroled by even colder cops. The city never sleeps, so the crime never stops. Hustler’s hustle from the sun up until it drops. Making Wall street money off of these inner city blocks. The ghetto is a project that needs to stop. A homeless man, donation cup in hand, “The American Dream, needs a real back up plan.” Read the sign, by his cardboard stand. His blind dog, named Stan, rusty dog tags hang. He shares and wears the same struggles on his coat, as does the man. Chanel shoes, and big ***** on the cover of a Magazine stand, getting more attention than this wise dog, and this old man.

I was stuck
there's nothing else to say.
I was stuck on the corner of Innes and Main
walking to Expressions, the only smoke shop
where high times wasn't ready to
come out of the closet,
where Hustler was always
6 months old,
where you had to call a **** a water pipe
because the cops came in too often.
I was thinking of the **** trailers
20 minutes out by the lake
and how when I was young they all seemed like
weather factories - heavy cloud but no rain
*sniff sniff
something's on the oven.
it's a world of difference
on Innes and Main.
bankers, business owners,
and old folks walk by with a
look in their eye that says "you're
exactly like you're t-shirt -- secondhand."
here I am secondhand.
here I don't have a name, just a presumption.
here I am nothing.
nothing good.
I kept walking.
I started thinking about my dad --
the first time we got high
together was on xmas day.  I was 20,
he was weary and his roommate ALWAYS
had bud.  here's the skinny:
we'd get ******, watch ****** movies,
he'd argue about how good they were
and I'd never quit laughing.
then the come down.
he'd start in about what a huge mistake
he's made of his life.
and he'd count his past regrets
on his fingers like he was learning
addition and it took the strength of all of my bones
not to grab him by the shoulders
and yell "DAD.
QUIT BEING SENTIMENTAL."
and I swore I'd never be sentimental
and I'm not sentimental.
I just know where I'm going.
but when memory's teeth breaks skin
like plaster,
when fresh marks color blood
over old wounds,
when you can't find home anywhere
but in a blunt or a bottle,
it doesn't matter where
you're going.

Even I cannot find this care anymore.
I’ve run vague and dry of all moist thought,
Brittle will scores this round,
All life is best endured no more,
I will not bend to peek at joy,
Each smile a twist, all laughter ups to snort and ugly choke,
Time strides by, a hustler, a tomcat, a victim on the run.

At last the end of dreams, such bold relief.
Not more takes or edits done,
I breathe in whole, without the worry of dismal hope,
Each expectation outed now and free to fade,
I court the hours without a scheme,
Death will pace until my shift is done,
This warm friend who sentences but can’t condemn,  
Staid promise, an infinity of next for all.
Soon enough this now is gone,
Rejoice

Summer ice box, bolted to the block like a hustler’s ambition.
King of the corner. Hand to hand to every family man or,
A fiends fever dream. Metal mattress for the meek.
Chill spot on the streets,
For a late-night congregation of labeled freaks;
To people passing by at least.
Neighborhood staple. A practicing painters graffiti canvas.
Crowned with empty coffee cups turned bank accounts for the beggar.
Bent from stray bullets, but never broken.
Stalwart, abandoned bodegas
But the ice box remains.
The signature of a city that speeds away, but
Will never change.

Its timeto yoke the joker


yo to the emcees that think they could get with me
i wet em like an ocean tide personality like jekyll and hide
which means im a killa slash for short drama no comma imma
brutal emcee eatin' 'em up the best of em im the lyrical cannibal
flesh rent devil sent no need for repent
comin' with wickedness born with 8 flows if ya only knew
******* come in the sets of three im givin' wishes for free
the rap genie aint' comin' to be a hero the black zorro thorrough
shoot up the barrio dead eye hawkin' assassin' blastin'
with the greatest tech mouth shots or physical shots it don't matter
whatever it takes to get the job done
my posse cocked d slapped you *******
you can smoke all the spinach you want and you leave like popeyes
get it naw forget sensitive ******* i knit it
write in graffiti love hoes shape like Nefertiti queen b goddess
never a ***** **** in my encore **** with me and ill bring the war along with gore
******* never been a softie
daddy had to be a gangsta **** hustler drug dealer all summed in one
so i had no choice but to pack a gun
but meanwhile im onto bigger and better things like rappin' on the mic i cling
flows tighter rhan pliers leave emcees wrapped up like cable wires
the sire embraced higher learning spurning over obstacles
turn complexity into miracles
how could i ever fall if i never fall failure not an acceptation
id rather sells drugs and extortion and get caught wit 25 big ones
fed time **** the state time im on the grind one time
always wanna see me fall black man finna rise planet of the apes style
hot and wild j ceasar with these skills i spills sendin' chills
its an ice age all over just say its over when big yosef grab the mic
prepare for fright when i ignite blast through hearts like a cannon
i just smoke ya ya mediocre its time to yoke these jokers
yea
 

I am Mexican:
       Brown and forgotten inbetween,
       Brown like the dirt poor I am.

Iv'e been in hard labor:
      I do what "they" don't want to anymore,
      I am the backbone of the working class.

Iv'e been poor:
      I see no handouts under the pyramid scheme,
      I am the Latin prince of the ghetto.

Iv'e been a hustler:
      Every penny earned off my back
      Makes dollars for "their" pockets.

Iv'e been here:
      I am no *******,
      I am the American dream,
      Still I must show identification.

I am Mexican:
      Brown and four generations deep
      American, I am still
      The immigrant face.

Addressing issues in society.
Maybe in away with people.
If the man you're messing with is taken.
And you knew of it.
Don't complain now.

If he's a hustler, ****, drug dealer.
Simply unemployed and you're a struggling mother.
Don't complain now.
You made your bed.
You made your personal decision.

If your son should meet the wrong end of a gun.
After deciding to rob somebody.
Don't complain now.
Which many people seem to want to do.

For better or worse.
We must journey on.
Because our life continue on.

We all have done something wrong.
When judging others.

Just because I’m reclusive, doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Above you stand only second-hand crossword puzzles chucked by gods, their errors in ink. The newsprint covers your head and you fill in some blank squares to make words shorter, how you want them to be. If you had your way, you’d be a philosophy major. You’d submerge yourself in knowledge like a child who spiraled from heaven via twirly slide in a pit of plastic *****. Your way would lead to fortune cookies filled with morbid maxims and hand-picked lucky numbers because computers are so impersonal. You’d call the absence of ignorance death; but until then, bathroom wall banter must do. **** what goes on in bathroom stalls. I touch myself in a public restroom thinking of you, my eagerness a shaken bottle of ginger ale. Two hours later, they start peering in the stall, asking if I’m alright in there. I feel the way I did when Jessica Serber ripped out my braid in second grade when we were playing Marco Polo. I told Coach Fish and she asked, “What am I supposed to do? Glue it back on?” I hated her ever since. And yet it’s not just hatred, but also fear, like the fear of killing spiders in case their family chooses to avenge them. I can never get over it; I can never live it down. So forgive me for never telling you this. Forgive me for never telling you much of anything. Just because I’m reclusive, doesn’t mean I don’t love you. But if one day you decide to leave me, I’ll hire a hustler who looks just like you.

We sat there in a group a circle of freaks with a doctor more ****** up than all of us put together on  the side.
So John anything you care to share today ?

I paid little or no attention to the ******* rattling off about feelings or all that other **** I truly could give a **** less about .
I was in this asylum and that was ******* embarrassing enough .

John?

realizing this paid babysitter for the insane wasnt going to leave me the **** alone untill I said something or told him the voices in my head were telling me to buy a hand gun and do a little spring cleaning .

I replied .
Yeah Doc I'm good not really feeling like sharing or talking or giving my opinion about crazy Larry's compliant about the martians trying to speak to him through the microwave okay.

John we try not to joke about are fellow residents .
Yeah whats not to joke about we got people in here who talk to walls and write letters with there **** okay!, Sad part is they spell way better than me for **** sake Deny here is scared of cats and I tell you I never trust a man who's scared of ***** alright .

John tell me about Gonzo.

Is this a ******* joke doc ?
I asked half ready to flip the **** out yet considering ****** would probably be frowned upon when it came to me getting out of the nuthouse.

Alright doc what the hell do you want to know?

Well is he a separate personality from you ?
No ******* it's me okay you ever hear of a nickname I'm sure your wife has one for you like needle **** the bug ****** .

The doc looked at me like well he looked at me like a guy who went ape **** and got locked in a nuthouse .
John is humor how you keep people out from knowing the true you?

No doc it's how I deal with the *******  who ask me stupid questions like that.
I sense you don't like me asking you questions.

Oh doc it's not that honestly you see I hate life right now and being locked up surrounded by dipshits who think a wild night is getting a extra graham ******* before night night time well it's kind of ******* lame okay that and I want a ******* drink and maybe a piece of *** okay!
Not from the doctor that is get your minds out of the gutter hamsters cant you see I'm using humor to be serious  here?

Yeah I know who gives a **** now enough with the foreplay kids.

Mr Robbins can you please re-frame from using vulgarity .
Can you believe this guy ? , Or the fact I can spell vulgarity and who said nothing good comes from a nervous breakdown .

I took a moment to look deep inside I saw a forest  and other pretty gay **** I'm kidding it was more like a brothel and Disney land combined  minus that hot duck with heels but enough about Selena Gomez.

Before the doc could say anymore stupid **** that would probably land me spending the rest of my life sharing a room with a guy that enjoyed making wine from his toilet I had to unleash a rant from hell and put a end to this this **** fest of a write cause it's happy hour and the drinks are a calling kids.


Look doc I'm going to tell you  like this.
Yeah sure I went a little a little nuts tried to **** somebody took one to many pills drank a little to much parked a car in the bar hey what can I say least when i woke up I didn't have far to go for cocktail in the morning.

But all the **** aside were all ******* nuts in this life hell there's more dudes and chicks sitting at home just building up pressure waiting to off one another like some bad mafia movie .

Yeah more ******* blood has been shed over that ******* word love than I can write about .

Yeah ******* I can sit here talk about about my Godammed feelings let me tell you what I'm feeling some of those good drugs that nurse with the great **** is handing out .
Her and me and some time alone that's what I'm ******* feeling sure it's just some cheap thrills and some ***** hot *** but hey thats about as wholesome as apple pie and ******* baseball pal.

So if your done with your stupid as questions I'm going to get the **** out of here hit on that nurse make her laugh and get shot down and probably go practice some self love alright amigo .

And let me also point out look how about some better mags in this place hey you ever tried to ******* to better homes and gardens?.
Yeah talk about a bush oh how a love the fall and a fern don't ask.

Mr Robbins.
Shh I put my finger to the docs beautiful full lips .

Look I'm crazy and I'm dam proud of it so to poetically put it shut the **** up cause I'm out homeboy.

With that said I left this circle of fellow freaks behind slammed my pills took my copy of home and garden and treated her like a copy of my favorite intellectual magazine hustler .


See and who said I didn't believe in happy ending.

Stay crazy or you just might go sane .

Gonzo