"hustlers" poems
sages and brethren
gather, and share
and slowly souls
are bared
their tempered voices
and quiet eyes
reserved of judgment
with passing smiles
moments blend
in current trends
opinions wide
and reflections deep
the concepts
and irregularities
once murky
now clear
they prioritize
and familiarize
that staunch resolution
of generation net
will remunerate
and illuminate
through the checkpoints
and formal reviews
through the purple curtains
and open stage
nothing tainted
or bitter
left for taste
cause its they
who’ll plant the seeds
the captains of commerce
healers and jugglers
the coaches and councilors
negotiators and compromisers
the kings and queens
hustlers and hellcats
(who've all found their way!)
let us tip our hats
and salute them*
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC
Uhh,..Young Ston, What up..
Shoutout to my hustling **** niggas..Shoutout to my hustling gangstas..Uhh, Shoutout to all my hustling ****** ****** Shoutout to all my ****** real ****** aye..
/OFTR, We ****** Hustlers man & , (we handle our business, Yeah*2)..Aye we some ****** real ****** & we (handle our business*4),Our business Yeah..OFTR we ****** Hustlers man , Aye we some real niggas..Stoned young ****** , but we (handle our business4) our business..(Yeah we handle our business2).. Handle (our business*2)..,OFTR, we gangstas..we ****** hustlers man Yeah we stay high all day. ,but (we take care of business, Yeah2)..we take care of business man.. Handle (our business3)..we some ****** real ****** but (we get to business, Yeah*3)..We ****** Hustling young ****** (young real niggas2)..gangsta (thugging..real niggas3)...Yeah,OFTR, We ****** Hustlers,man..(We handle our business..3) (Yeah we handle business3) man...we (handle business,2)..our business (we handle..our business..2)(our business2)..nigga (Yeah we bout our business4)..We some ****** Hustling (Thugging..gangsta niggas3)..OFTR..(Stoned young niggas3),..but we bout our **** Yeah we ****** (Hustling Gangsta young niggas*3),We gangstas nigga..ONLY FOR THE REAL..
Aye Yeah..
(we handle our business4)..handle (our business3)..Aye we some ****** Hustlers man Aye, Yeah (We bout our business2).Yeah we (take care of business2).. We take care of (our business..*2)business..We busy
We bout our business, Yeah we handle business man, We some Thugging ****** we some gangsta ****** & (we stay ****** nigga*2)..Aye, but we all on our **** man, Yeah..We ****** Hustlers ***** Yeah (we handle our business2)..(our business3)..Yeah..Uhh
I wake up in the morning I gotta Thank God, & I gotta get (back to ryhming, back to grinding*2),back to taking care of business..my business nigga,Aye, they say stick to what you do best & stick to what you know man..& stay true to yourself, don't let these devils confuse you & mislead you to the wrong path my *****
Aye, hard work doesn't go unnoticed & that's real talk, this is real game from a younging, don't be scared to learn something from me, don't be a fool man, I know they don't know too much about me, The Young ****** Disciple, but I'm one of the realest rappers that's still alive tho dude, Fo sho,I'm the best rapper in Atlanta OFTR, we our own league dawg..& I'm the commissioner, we will never fall, we stand tall, & We forever gone ball, stay strong, & keep grinding.., Yeah, we take care of business..
Yeah..We bout our business..
/We ****** Hustlers, ****** (young niggas,2) that (handle our business,2..)(our business2)..Yeah we take care (of business3), Yeah/*2
Aye we getting to business..man , I'm making these hoes famous just for one night my nig,I'm macking on these hoes,like the 70s, then I'm (back to business2) man..I handle (my business2),yeah, my ***** I'm too much , too handle, I'm too much to control,Young Ston nigga..(too much*2).. Man
I got the full control of my music..I got the control now Kendrick,..Uhh,I'm proving all of them ***** *** critics so wrong now man..They made a big mistake dobuting on a young ***** a ****** Hustling Thuggin Gangsta,ayo The system created a monster that's about to go off like Godzilla on my city dawg, I'm causing alot of chaos my nigga,no regrets
Fo show dude ..Ohhwoah..Uhh.
Shoutout to my hustling **** niggas..Shoutout to my hustling gangstas..Uhh, Shoutout to all my hustling ****** ****** Shoutout to all my ****** real ****** aye..OFTR
We ****** Hustlers.. ONLY FOR THE REAL
mufucker
Yeah..
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
I speak the language of God
I speak Alleluyah and Amen!
I speak a perfect spoken word,
The language of poets and gifted men.
I speak fluent Norwegian
The language of the Norsk.
I was born a Liberian.
That took time and hard work.
I speak sound French
The language of French Guinea.
I speak it whenever I pray in church,
God blessed me there as a refugee.
I speak the English Language,
The universal language of business.
Wall Street used it to do damage,
Damages that caused the financial crisis.
I speak the hustle language,
The one adopted by hustlers.
This language I have used to engage,
All my challenges and troubles.
I speak a special creative language
The one spoken by writers and poets.
This language is so unique,
That it has produced many laureates.
#IvanBrooksPoetry©
1/8/2018
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
Watching night step-sitters staring at each passerby
abiding time as if counting sheep stepping with the city's cadence
Hearing sirens alarming in their BEWARE BLARING;
persistent fearfulness for evil and citizens securities
Staring-walking-bodies searching a barren land prostrating
before the great needle
Patched streets and decaying sidewalks by flooding night lights lay surreal
DECAYING fingers of poverty playing its fingers into every crack, crevice; into every pore, into every cell member
into one's whole being
Sounding the hip-hop generation street corners of hustlers
jiving away the night
The hustled and hustlers' overwhelming struggling for power; being surrounded by red brick and stone; being incased in poverty
Pounding city hysteria;
at times laying silent in sleepless depth
by the waning gradualness;
anytime readying itself to ERUPT
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 9:39 AM UTC
When you’ve had enough
Of maniacs and hustlers,
Of fakes and phonies
And smooth talking hucksters
It’s time to pull back
And sort through the weeds
To find the flowers
And see what you need.
Not what you want,
That’s something different.
If your needs aren’t met
Life can get belligerent.
You need breath and water
And some other great stuff
Or you stop living a lot
And that is rather rough.
Once we move from needs
The rest are all your wants
And you can live without them
Despite all your rowdy taunts.
How many times have you heard
I need coffee when I wake up?
That is a case of your want
That comes in a handy cup.
Or, I need to buy cigarettes
But that isn’t really true.
You don’t think you’ll die without
I mean, not really, do you?
Or, I need some ice cream now
Or a cruller or two or three.
That doesn’t sound fatal
Unless you do that daily.
So, the best thing you can do
For your one and only body
Is to try your best to keep
The thing from getting shoddy
By separating the things
That your body best deserves
And realize that ignoring wants
Does nothing but get on nerves.
With that clearing of your head
And setting of new priorities
The Big Things of the day
Turn into pesky minorities.
Suddenly you see that you
Can choose who to ignore
And then see what you need
And need for nothing more.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 11:36 PM UTC
We ambled the streets of Harare
Meandering aimlessly
Fleeting past wide-eyes scanning us enviously
Hand in hand we walked into the restaurant
Leisurely on Second Street
Our hunger awakened
Our appetites heightened
At almost closing time
With no one in overtime mode
A signal that here we could only dine on another day
Joina City was our next stop
Up the lift right to the top
'Closed' it read at the coffee shop
Into the nearest chair I went flop!
Though hungry, we gabbed non-stop
By and by we regarded the clock
It chimed 8 o'clock
And sadly, it was time to go home
Busy and noisy
Were the streets of Harare
Jabbering crowds, kombis hooting
Hawkers, vendors or is it hustlers now -
Calling for buyers or just huddled to pass time
No chill in Harare
Picturesque like a dream
Surreal…
Hand in hand we dawdled
In despair for a hot meal
In the shimmering distance
Like a mirage in the desert
The neon lights read
'Creamy Inn'
Something to calm our rambling bellies
At last…
Nippy evening air hit our souls
'Ice-cream tastes better at night'
I said
'I can't believe I'm having ice-cream'
He said
We frolicked
Hand in hand we danced past faces painted with adoration
'What a handsome lover!'
They probably thought:
My delectable younger brother
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 4:18 PM UTC
Some stand on the corner and seek a donation.
Stating nothing more.
I believe some of the nicest people, are the homeless?
Now, the meanest are?
Mmmm those with negative comments.
Why?
Don't they get a job?
Good point?
Except, those that donate do so from the heart.
And yes, some are hustlers with a job?
But those with cars might not be homeless at all.
We know not their stories and many have a testimonial to encourage another.
But in my heart, I believe the homeless, are some of the nicest people?
Have you been around those judgemental church folks?
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 10:42 PM UTC
Yes, ear hustlers exist.
They at home, at work, and even at church.
Instead of concentrating on themselves.
They seem to be concentrating on your conversation.
What little bit they hear?
Has now became a blown up story.
With more added details than they ever know.
That's how the ear hustling stories goes.
One small detail that they came in the middle of has destroyed many relationships.
What makes us get involved in things not related to them?
Is the oldest question to ever be asked.
Ear hustling in school.
Ear hustling in the homeroom.
Makes you know that many are concern with you.
What rumor that is spread?
Never has that much truth within it.
Maybe a half percentage if at all.
Oh, the rumor mill won't ever fade.
Some people lives to talk about people they do and don't know.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 8:21 AM UTC
In the ghetto
Huh they say you can be anything
You wanna be
So i joined the army
Notknowing that I'll still
Face tragedy and racism aint went no where
It feels ghostly evil stares
Of past scornful memories
They traded stock off the fields
And put us in the penitentiary
I got my first arrest in elementary
Just for being black on a sunday
Walkin' on a one way street
Preachers aint talking about that
Cuz they know theyll get lynched for that
Now they follow anything
And everything
That attracts money fortune and fame
You know the name?
We die more for the name of the father
Religion is ********
No matter whats coming out the puplits
They still gone ****
Think of you as a nigguh belittle
Troublesome and only good
For cheap labor
Be good and ya might get a penny raise
For good behavior
Still lookin' a savior?
That ***** been dead think abiut it
He died at 33 ?
Now ask yo self how many nigguhs
Died before 33? Ships full of slaves?
Lots of babies young men and women
Mothers fathers to sons n daughters
Two thousand fifteen and we
Still seeing slaughter ???
Can you see me running from the police
And we still think we run the streets
Peep game homies
Its no longer about racism
Its about us as a minority
Wither white black mexican or puerto rican
We all slaves
Payin' debts to society before we
Took our first ****
**** how could this be ?
My birth belongs to a bank industry
So all my real gangstas thugs to hustlers
Yea even wall street yall slaves too
Wake up the time is now
Gotta mind gotta use it
Or else these muthaphukkas will abuse it
This aint nothing new
Since the sun been shinin'
The same from beginning to end
The world was castedwith sin
There was darkness before light
Now that I'vegot the light
Its time to enlightened others
With the torch i aquired
Not long before ill be retired and life expired
For trying to reach for the truth
And many more
Live carefully
Cuz this is somethin' 2 die 4....
The ghetto!!!!
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
its tha return of tha gangsta thanks to ya
too many blacks out here livin' they life in fear
families seeing tears problems tier
blurry visions make it hard to see clear my dear
cant get through the atmosphere
feel me it's the return of the gangsta I'd like to thank ya
Malcolm for giving me the principles and reaching a few people's
opening minds to grinds and you'll find
me chilling on the corner puffing marijuana yep I'm a gonna
in society outlaw outcast put my thoughts on blast
techs is humming cuz I smell war coming armies drumming
po folks crying innocent victims dying
for no apparent reasons caught in daily treasons which gives me a reasons to put an end to Americas sin but too many folks stuck in
a fantAsy called reality in actuality
they plotting our burials G
troops overseas findings empty caves so the government can make saves war profiteers racketeering gangsters hustlers
exposing lies don't be a busta like a Douglass no diamonds in my cutlass couldn't move so I had cut less people out of my circle I'm nerdy as urkel yea my intellect carefully selects
what's real from reality I envision myself as well as my enemies in a fatality so battling me I was made for war built off the backs of my ancestors sore yea white house was built by the slaves for white supremacy kind of irony they sayin' my folks was lazy?
worked up from Sun up to Sun down
I can't believe my folks walking with they heads towards the grounds
how bout we get mad and let off gun sounds pound for pound
you know they can't hang with us
that's why they had to make laws against us
scared of rise and corruptions ain't a surprise through the eyes
of real people who realize pain ain't a substitution for happiness bliss
I guess I was sunkissed
by wisdom mouth open hail Mary entered me and told me
we all family eyes lit no **** no fit nothing
but a glowing brain exemption of fame down goes my name
in the book of life made wisdom my wife
she took my arm she's my charm
as I glance at the souls gunned down on plantations farms gangsta....
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 2:49 PM UTC
professional thieves and lunatic royalty
rule the alleys and burned out geniuses collecting cans
to earn the morning's medicine
fighting off last night's tremors
vampyre women that eat men alive
and live in darkness and
nobody's ever seen the forest
central park predators
Mad Hatter transplants
and eternal sages who stay drunk by being interesting
and getting good at giving tourists a smooth line of ********
(you can always spot the tourists in new york. they are the only ones wearing bright colors. in portland, they can be spotted by similar means, but the eye must be trained. the city abounds with sprouts)
always looking up
eternal chatter of madness from corners,
doorways, windows, liquor stores
*** barrels floating on tears
with a police state terror squad
2 floors above
killing justice and truth
black ties jumping out windows of Wall St.
cracked by pressure and greed and ego
street hustlers retiring at 35- or dead at 13
the street musician dying from apathy
he is a withering poppy flower
cut and bleeding
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
At the party,
I saw faces
painted passionately
In smiles and laughter;
Eyes sparkling
like Crystal
In every hue of inebriation;
Hands clapping
Extended waves
Of cheerful celebration;
Lips smearing
lavish layers of
Love on captive ears;
Friends toasting
The Life
With Ciroc, Moët and beer;
Hollywood wannabes rocking
Bootlegged Ray-bans
In the dark;
Buzzed ex-lovers
waging battles
Of the heart;
15's smashed
into 10's,
Flashing rolls of flesh;
Uncle Johnny
in his Walkin' glory
Stumbling way past 'when';
'83 Hustlers
in furs and fedoras
Feasting on free treats;
Soul Train rejects
moon-stalking
On two left feet;
iPhones and Samsungs
Making memories
For the curious web;
PotHeads
in the smoky loo
Getting bloodshot red;
At the party,
The living colors
of life
Piqued my creative core...
And
I saw
poetry
in motion...
~ P
(#AtTheParty)
3/3/2014
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
I am so difficult that I wonder how I've been able to survive
In this world of corruption, greed and power trippin' fools.
Beyond the surface, inside of me, there is pure love and joy
Always pushed into a corner with hustlers with a hidden agenda, trying to be cool.
The choices in my life have my name written upon them.
Yet, the solutions come from the Divine, are words written upon my heart and soul
Traveling free, not afraid to be me...
So, I walk upon this earth, never allowing the evil to take it's toll.
Here you are and here I am too.
I try to understand why you did those things to me.
I come up empty-handed for the reason you chose that way.
Just when I thought I had moved on, I see you for who you are supposed to be.
You were diagnosed with Cancer and finally opened your eyes.
But, now it's too late to open up myself to the pain you can cause.
I tried to be there for you cuz that's just who i am.
Your never ending lies only hurt me and add to my loss.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
When I was a little kid
My friends and I would play
At cowboys and Indians
In the barn with forts of hay.
We crafted guns from sticks
We found about the farm
And though we shot each other
We managed to come to no harm.
Bang, bang, bang! I got you!
No you didn’t, you missed!
The bullet whizzed by me!
You can’t see me in the mist!
Of course, if we were Indians
The same rules held true there.
You never managed to **** us
We never took your hair.
But, we knew we were villains
Because cowboys were king.
We didn’t even question it.
It was that sort of thing.
Bang, bang, bang. I got you!
Cowboys don’t ever cry.
We twist and dodge you redskins
So, don’t even bother to try.
Holding invisible reins, we rode
On our noble painted steeds.
We pretended it was the old West
Here in our playground of weeds.
Some of us had play weapons
Santa had brought to the lucky
But forcing improvisation only
Made us a lot more plucky.
Bang, bang, bang. I shot you.
You ***** lowdown rustler.
Oh, we thought of every dodge.
What young, clever hustlers.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 10:52 PM UTC
It's funny that those that lives in the best of town.
Find many ways of opinions to put the poor side down.
Only if we check their back ground.
They point out the crimes that seems to run rapidly.
When many of the same things happens in their neighborhoods.
Sure they have up the crime watching signs.
But they gets robbed by their very own neigbors child.
Yes, only if we check their back ground.
Then we would see that there's no safe neighborhoods.
Because all have embellezers and wannabe thugs.
They might be business executive or simple hustlers.
They all share a common bond.
Except it depends on your side of town.
Strange when the rich seems to face justice.
They then try to call upon all their powerful connection.
The mayor, the governor, maybe a judge or a lawyer.
The rich just hates to be exposed.
Because they realize they no better than those they call poor.
The safe neighborhoods are just a smoke screen.
Where many lives according to their dreams?
Scandals, are better in their communities.
Watch them gets better attention then you possibly could think.
Except, when it comes to the news.
Then you find out the rich wealthy folks knows them too.
The group that crys about the public right to know.
Seems to sit upon stories they should have reported days ago.
The group that hides behind secured gated fences.
Fails to realize crime invades them through associates , they came to know.
We , without.
Or those with plenty of.
Shouldn't look down at others.
For, we all have been told.
What goes up?
Eventually will fall.
Judge not, if you won't judge yourself.
Because when push comes to shove.
We must turn to one another.
Don't matter, what side of town.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC
I came, and I went there.
I went there and came.
I furnished my money, my loving and fame.
I drank and I piddled, I piddled and sang,
a song for Bukowski, for Bukowski I sang.
The low-lifes and hustlers,
the ****** and the cops.
The ***** in the bottle,
the dives and the flops.
The racers and wasters,
living on luck.
For all of the chasers,
I now raise a cup.
A song for Bukowski, for Bukowski a song.
A song for Bukowski, Bukowski so long.
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 3:23 PM UTC
Hii life ni ya kuhustle,
alikuja kugundua that,
ile night alijimess kwa disco hall,
ma-hustlers kwake walikuwa ni masufferes,
na yeye kivyake alikuwa mtu wamastarehe,
Easy money without pain,
na juu ya ignorance,
hakutambua kuwa,
no pain no gain,
ama labda,
aliogopa the pain ya kugain,
legally according to the law of her body,
juu alikuwa after easy money,
na hakutambua kuwa hii pain ingetake long kuheal,
Asiyesikia la mkuu,
huvunjika guu,
Walijaribu kumfunza,
wavyele kwa walimu,
Lakini maneno yao yalienea kwa sikio la kufa ambalo mara nyingi
halisikii dawa,
Life yake ilikuwa surrounded na pressure from peers,
Drugs alizimeza na kujipierce,
Malimwengu walimfunza machungu na ma regrets,
juu ya mama aliyapuuza,
Alijiona msupuu sana kuattract pesa,
coz, si pesa huvutiwa na urembo,
All in all,,
urembo wake na kuremba kwake kulimlead to waste,
na akawa waste,
Alikuwa anafuatwa na wengi juu ya manukato,
but sasa,
anahave kufuatwa na nzi wengi juu ya shombo,
Alicome back to her senses,
ongezea ya sita,
after kujimess hiyo night saa sita,
Na juu alikuwa amejawa na ma regrets,
pain ilikuwa more na too deep in her flesh,
Akaanza kujifeel less fortunate,
hakujua pakupata msaada,
coz,
alidis maarif wake ile time alijifeel high,
so high ungedhani amepita limit ya sky,
But one thing is for sure,
angehave kuget back on her feet, a get from her seat,
ya comfort zone,
Akaamua kurudi to her first life,
Aweke maringo na kuremba kwake,
to her last line,
Na her life her hustle,
Aliamua kuchukua her hustle to the second line,
Christ akiwa on the leading line.
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 8:19 AM UTC
We are on the "no call" list
Yet, our telephone still rings
We've a sign that says "No Pedlars"
But, there's people selling things
Showing up and disregarding
The sign that we've put there
They won't accept the fact they've trespassed
They really do not care
We get calls from companies
Who aren't allowed to phone
And when we say "we're on the list"
They leave us alone
It last for just two hours
Then they call back again
We start the "No call" salsa
From the beginning once again.
People drive by and they stop
They say our house needs work
They saw it from a mile back
They must think I'm a ****
I figure that their eyesight great
For our problem's not out front
The problem is around the rear
They're just searching on a hunt
Have you ever asked yourself
How do they "fly by night"
For they're all so full of ********
They couldn't muster any height
They tell you that they did some work
For the lady who lived here
But if they're work is so **** durable
Why did it only last a year
They're nothing but cheap hustlers
Who want to rip you off and leave
They're just out to get your money
They practice to decieve
They've never got good papers
To show just where they're from
And when you ask to see them
They hightail it and they run
The honest ones leave me alone
And they do not cross my step
For they read my sign "No Pedlars"
And they leave my place...with pep
They move on to the neighbors
They do not wait around
They don't look inside my windows
They just evacuate my ground
There's salesmen doing driveways
Professionals, these guys ain't
All they want to do is
Cover up my drive with paint
They ask about my eavestroughs
It is blocked, that's why it drips
But, it has a gutter cover
That's help on with plastic clips
They phone me during dinner
And they say, "Hi, my name's Jay"
But they sound as if they're calling
From an office in Bombay
They know that my computer
Has a virus I can't fix
And if I let them in my system
This problem they will nix
They prey on you not knowing
And they catch you unaware
So if you don't know these people
i'd advise you please take care
You can tell them really nicely
Or you can tell them go to hell
But right now, my phone is ringing
It must be Jay upon my cell.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 6:27 PM UTC
Okay,
so the streets are mean out there,
out there in the jungle,
the only jungle you've ever known.
Street hustlers & pimps,
neon fuzzies
& sirens.
Motorino pizza.
No place like home,
okay.
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
The truth of the matter is that justice unfair.
Least when addressing important matters.
A man that fails to pay child support is mainly locked up.
If, he has failed to adhere to the many warning.
The balance of justice doesn't always fit the crime.
It seems to some men that many judges are blind.
What about the mothers that doesn't pay?
To the jailed father, they doesn't face to many threats to be place away.
Similar to domestic violence.
In many cases they both goes to jail.
It's a cooling point for common sense to kick in.
Now, in some cases many women knows the man they date.
And if he's worth having a child with in the forth coming days.
Some children are born because of the money paid.
Yes, the pay for play still exist in society to day.
And, when the hustlers, the players are locked up.
Pay attention to the people it really hurts.
Adding more days.
Adding more time.
Doesn't always accomplish your goals.
The money you seek isn't getting paid the correct way.
So essentially, the child's the one that pays.
Well, I stated the balance of justice doesn't pay.
If the women that faiuls to pay child support.
Doesn't serve many days.
There are men that has custody too.
Many doesn't push the issue the way a woman does.
They would accept it.
If she was pushed to take care of hers.
Except, a man tries to stand behind the male pride.
That he's willing and able to take care of his child.
Same with a few ladies that you see.
She will never request a dollar to prove many things.
That her strength comes from within.
That her friends, mother, father and other family's member will step in.
That's the emotional and maternal side that a mother has.
Except, it's kinda sad yo see a child not know their dad.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 10:52 AM UTC
Tim Hecker
And crowds
A match made in heaven
Earphones in
I glide through the crowds
Each glitch becomes
The next person (a glitch in nature)
Each hush
Becomes a waft of permafrost air
And the rhythm blends in with a thousand feet and faces
Elements become
Hustlers
Bourgois ladies and their little dogs
Stern old men
A lost looking child
Or
Those two girls - restrained by mall security
People try to untangle my expression
I am euphoric
I am exalted
By my music video
Playing just for me
Here
Now
I'm beggining to like these people
I hope the music doesn't wear off
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
Allen Ginsberg, a raving madman, a man beyond the borders of normal
once said, “Poets are ****** but see with the eyes of angels.”
His ranting howls, mere paradoxical clamorings (LOUDER).
His bootless, penniless, homeless cries, slight nonsensical musings.
His power subdued, his passion put-out, his well of enumerations run
dry…
Can you hear him?
(LOUDER!!!)
Are you even listening?
What do holy angel-headed hipsters like he see?
A myriad of star-crossed artists, poets, gurus, and monks?
A tired and beat batch of street corner hustlers, homeless and hungry?
A drunk in the back-room bar?
A stumbling, shadowy silhouette in the by-street (an enigma...)?
An old man, philosophizing to everyone and no one but himself?
A juke box stuck on repeat?
A young couple, making love with their feet under the table?
A trio of jazz musicians out back for a smoke?
A bar maid making minimum wage, or nothing?
A priest who's losing his conviction?
A down-n-out loner, dreamy, dazed, dashed,
staring at the bottom of his empty beer glass
(who will buy the next round)?
A nosey cop?
A rosey fop?
A belligerent racist?
A beat runaway?
A child begging? (there are so many...)
A fed-up fanatic? (too loud, too loud…)
A would-be protester-rioter-anarchist, giving up and going home?
A giggling girl, flirting, with her skirt hiked high?
A show-off with an inferiority complex?
A shy recluse, too afraid to walk through the door?
A power-hungry politician, his propaganda blasting through the static of
a detuned radio advertisement, paid for by (who are these people?)?
A struggle, never-ending, ever-renewed, always there, always alive,
but only seen through crazy, mad, angelic eyes.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
Hustlers run day and night
Only sleeping when the time is right
Hustling isn't the life
Come help me be a hood wife
Eat chicken one night feathers the next
He won't take checks
Running every hustle you've ever been taught
Never know when you're going to stop
Robbing, skimming, and Pimpin you don't care
As long as you have silk underwear
Send your b---h out to get paid
B---h don't come back till you get laid
Once you come back with cash duckies
All of the dope dealers get new Uzi's
That's when the F'er runs to score
Then he gets ready to soar
Watch every step or move you make
Because he's got a hit to take
With every hit he takes
The demon inside starts to wake
He starts to replay the day
Worrying if you'll go stray
He knows he's breaking every rule
But he still maintains he's super cool
So he starts beating you
Making you black and blue
B---h you come a dime to dozen
You cross me you'll be frozen
Could mean do or die
So don't apply
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 6:05 AM UTC