"ric" poems
broken glass and christmas lights that don't light up anymore, i hung you about with glitter and gold, called you art, kissed your face. there were tattered things on our clothes, i spit words into the gutter and they ran down the stream into the ocean where the letters got tangled with a sting-ray, a clown fishes fins. tiny fawns painted themselves across your palms, they sung me to sleep at night, wandering down my back and across my nose when i couldn't breathe because there was something knotting my veins into pretty patterns, stopping the bloodflow and shutting down my liver slowly. ric-rac danced two-steps and alcohol-drenched cakes infiltrated tea parties where lace was all the rage and ladies always wore gloves, *** was a thing never spoken about. the fifth most dangerous city in the us took me under its wing, tucked me into train station corners while paedophilia took hold of the government and shook us soundly. people held candles into the night sky when the family was killed, when the police asked if they were involved with drugs, when tiny bodies littered the basement because they were old enough to identify the killer. notebooks and traced fingerprints hung on the walls like christmas decorations before thanksgiving, pictures of you taken in secrecy, dipped in fluid that looks black in the dark room.
i knit sweaters. they have rabbits and bears and deer on the front.
Nov 20, 2010
Nov 20, 2010 at 7:19 PM UTC
Finding seed in fibers needed for the humming bird robe.
Thread twisted so,
fine fine fine,
sof-ein
my point in the twisting tale
The book my culture arose from
knowing any rose is a rose.
thank you, Gert,
this book, the book, our culture- global
post
the elec'ric link to steam and steel
and cotton picking
through
assembly line guns, before automobiles, by Ford.
Yes, as an aside, who saw
- pause the prosody, break the lines
- goto .7 speed
- or bullet speed if you know the idea
As handspinners, we indulge our senses with each new yarn that is spun.
From <https://spinoffmagazine.com/a-practical-guide-to-ginning-cotton-by-hand/>
As handspinners,
we indulge our senses
with each new yarn that is spun.
We are entranced and soothed
as our eyes watch the twist travel through the fiber.
We fluff, stretch,
and tug it into every possible yarn configuration
and enjoy that therapeutic zen
that comes with it.
Ginning your own cotton by hand
adds another layer
of bliss
to the spinning experience.
At a glance,
we just pluck seeds
from a nest
of fiber.
You’ll want
to work methodically
in order
to save time and leave your fiber
as lofty
as possible after ginning.
Understanding how the seeds are organized
within a cotton boll and using the best technique
for the variety
of cotton that you have makes the handginning process go much easier.
Oct 9, 2021
Oct 9, 2021 at 2:22 PM UTC
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Verse 1
Driving around fronting like a boss.
Feel the connection, better come correct kid.
For in the hood one is always in need of some protection.
And if ya don’t ya best watch your neck kid.
It’s all about respect kid.
So better watch your mouth kid.
Because yawl be dead if ya ever start snitching.
For If you wanna survive you just gotta be packing.
And If you wanna a meal on your plate than ya better start stealing.
Just be careful because the pigs always creeping.
Watching our houses, tapping our phones,
Every day and every weekend.
For there is no freedom in the project zone.
It’s like gulag out here man, with gangs all trying to sit on the iron porcelain throne.
But it doesn’t mean **** for the government will still be the true al capoene.
Testing out their drugs on us like we lab rats.
Using racism and propaganda to keep us on our backs.
Which makes makes me wonder why the rest of our society don’t just neuter these ***** cats?
**** But as long as...
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Verse 2
Stunting with my money like a true mob boss!
You want power?
You want respect?
You want to fly around in a purple jet?
Than ya better come correct.
I feel ya J, we gotta makes them waves.
Like a big kahuna, drinking some corona.
Coming in like a super hero to save the day.
We will be the rulers, taking out the opposition like a true mobster.
And ya might think us monsters, but we just doing what we can with this natural disaster.
That you created, ya I ain’t faded.
Opportunity for all, in this world so devastated.
From Atlanta to the bronks.
Only got one rule, which is don’t be a foolish punk.
You gotta think smart and not just rely on luck.
For every dog has its day, so be careful where you run a muck.
Just as long as you never forget...
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Got that money, power, and fame like Kriss kross.
Do you got that sauce?
Does he have that sauce?
Because if you don’t, than that’s a loss.
So remember to never lose that sauce.
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 9:50 PM UTC
My lyrics are malicious drive you ballistic like holistic priest thinking something vicious My flow is viscous moving down the beat like a runny nose the flows sick call a doctor I'll examine your lines like a proctor or a projector I'm the protector of the legit hip-hop style I profile like Ric Flair no care while you stare at this skinny black kid with the name brand flows I eat generic emcees for breakfast while my pen explodes is it so or no let it go like frozen ice cold like frozone while I Make the Mic moan and bust on stage with my lyrical *** while on the decks the wax spins sealing your doom like Indiana Jones in the temple for you theirs no room
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
a debt is owed to those of you
who write so clean and pure and true
inspiring me through and through
washing away shades of grey and blue
t’was as if you’d always knew
the way to build me up anew
like a cobbler designing a shoe
you spoke to me as I changed and grew
i lost to taste for rotten shrew
and threw away memories not of you
until I sat alone, hair askew
wondering what next I would do
then came a flash that skewered me through
I was only able to muster a ‘mew’
as the realization came that this could never undue
the great Ric Flair and his infamous “Woooooo”
the point is, if I can get real here, crew
it’s important to me, the writing you do
this comes from my heart so it has to be true
I hope you all have a day under skies sunny and blue –
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 11:14 AM UTC
yeah they use us
abuse us then divorce us
after we put our trust
in the system
ever since then my feelings been rust
ashes to ashes dust to dust
in memory of my brain
cuz I put it to rest
along with the rest
ain't no test
just looking around we going to the ground
one day I say let's not pray
instead prey with the AK
ready to spray
down the shadow government
punish em with no sentiments
no remorse
**** the credible source I light a torch
burn them black letters over white paper to chedda graded cheese please don't take these
threats lightly
we moving forcibly not slightly I just might be
eradicatedfo r exposing the truths
like black Jesus
Malcolm to Martin
Lennon to Jimi
Hendrix but my minds ain't playing tricks
listen to the tocks n ticks
clockwork ready to hit
but then again time is a manmade
Thang
even though it's limitless sick of this
society we living in
nothing but pain aggression and sin
will I ever make amends
to my ancestors
rebirth my girth
cuz I know what I'm worth
you can tell my strength by the length
in my hair true playa like that boy Ric Flair
and I'll be there
showing up like the Jackson's can't get no satisfaction
in this deadly game
made a name now I'm pushed to the hall of shame
works go unnamed and I'll still remain
A silent great but wait
it's too **** late of course
cuz we settled for the Hollywood Divorce court!!!!!
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 4:08 PM UTC
I got me a dear rico step ya danny. oops I mean a derrick stephani message.
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC