Poetry

A Little Style Can Go A Long Way

How can I say this?

Let’s end the debate. I’m great.
I wipe my ass with tissue made of clouds
It feels like someone blew on my butt a mouth of vape
You wipe your ass with the sticky side of tape
Out of all the apes I be the most poetic one
I walked into a room full of human tombs
And they said, Ah, it’s the Poetic One

I be so crazy that the sanest psychiatrist wants to try the shit
How can I be crazy like you?
Do as I do, but in your own way, I said
Then I leaned on her desk and I got the most insanest head
You can’t picture me dead
I have the air of immortality
So harsh is reality at times
That I had to prepare a gallantry of rhymes
I’m Hines Ward in the fourth quarter catching a bomb
And strutting into the end zone unharmed

Fuck it. Let’s bear guns and shoot it out at the park
That’s how some determine shit
When I was in college…I was remembering shit, but wasn’t learning shit
Don’t burn the witch!
Said the Wizard
Now you know I gotta rhyme that with blizzard
I also just thought of the name, Eddie Izzard
I looked it up and it’s a real person – just as I suspected
I mess with Texas, I mess with any state who want the drama
That girl, got a bigger ass than the humps on a llama
This girl, got a bigger ass than the camels on humps
Other cats keep their trap shut, I’m about to say what’s up
I figure if I talk to her she’ll be receptive
I said, Hi, I’m Jose
And I handed her a contraceptive

This may be the last poem of the day
So I gotta end it with style
Every poem may be my last poem
So I gotta end it with style
Every time!

Ok…I signed a contract
that pays a fortune
for timeless bombast

And the substance, I do for free, pro bono – that’s legalese
Please bear with me, a hippie’s in the tent collecting his thoughts
What you bought, was a purchase that satisfied you for a second
I ain’t preaching no lesson, just addressing the essence of adults, which in essence is their adolescence
Ain’t nothing more natural than a mother caressing her baby
Ain’t nothing more depressing than a mothafucker who’s 80
Pray for me, in other words, do nothing for me
I got this, nigga
Oh shit! The keyboard is on fire!
That’s what happens
When I jot this

NIGGA!

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Poetry

I Think I’m Tom Brady

I think I’m Tom Brady
I’m the Tom Brady of poverty
Wow they’re on to me
They think I’m Tom Brady
They saw me throw a football
And now they think I’m Tom Brady
Several people came up to me
With Tom Brady jerseys and a Sharpie
I guess they think I’m Tom Brady
I looked into a mirror and said, what the heck
I think I’m Tom Brady

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