Poetry

So Profound

Hazy daisies shine ubiquitous
Wind blows cold wind blows ticklish
Winds without impetus
So no grey leaves flutter
And a twister twists no longer

A preponderance of people at my gate without a cause
A piranha was the fish that was talked about in Jaws
Photography replacing photographic memories
Concertgoers saw the same concert as those not attending it

Yo, it’s a word so slick and so beautiful, Yo
Age is an ever shrinking cage carried on the shoulders of a beautiful hoe
Radio jams play in the Club of Sam as cruddy hands reach for the mustard jam
All movies now display Apocalypse themes

The Apocalypse theme is pertinent
As the world tires of itself
Humans grow tired of themselves, and that is true maturity
Like a silent emergency you ain’t never heard of me

So well-fueled is drool at the altar of class
The professor filled a glass and skinned a last drip off a Carmex lip
Heard ‘round the corner a half-hearted quip, then a sneeze, and no one blessed it
Atheists opened shop with no suggestions, on sale was logic that lead to question

A single sunflower is dumb power
Smoking cigs outside Trump Tower
In Chicago, that’s where I’m from yo, listen
If you’re driving on LSD, no way you can miss it

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Poetry

An Actual Pterodactyl

Please don’t shit in the punch bowl
I heard someone say
Who is a pussy, who is gay
The biggest fag rides a pink Jag thru a fruity metropolis
Not only am I sexual, but I am also metro
I grabbed a stranger’s hand on the street
And said let’s go
She abided and now our destinies have collided

Hours later we’re watching alligators fight
And everyone around has money on a winner
On the way home we listened to Born Sinner
She gave me her number and that was that
She left her hat in my car on purpose
So she can have an excuse to see me again

I think I’m a ten out of ten
The hottest boy a grim grey block can produce
I’m like juice for the parched
My clothes be wrinkled, yo clothes be starched
Yet I be flyer
Like Michael I Myers
I’m feeling strong
Like when you just put air in a tire
My situation is so dire, it’s beyond the point of critical
For fun, I spend all day sounding out syllables
It’s just a thing I do
My poetry ain’t no shortcut, it ain’t no haiku
I’m the type to have a wedding just to say “I don’t”
When it was expected that I say, “I do”
I’m crazy like that
Crazy as 89 flapjacks
I’m the type that makes people curious as to what’s in my backpack
Like, what could his possessions be, what are his interests
Diversity vision with more views than Pinterest
People be peeping the syntax in texts, so just call it syntext

I prefer real-life interactions
In the digital age that’s a cataclysm
I prefer real-life interactions
You gotta peep my inflections & mannerisms
A truism
At some point was imparted as wisdom

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Poetry

Stratosphere

There’s a rumor
Around town it’s going
They say a certain guy
Is in his basement flowing

I’m here to say them rumors be valid
I’m the type to never order a salad
Nope. I stay away from healthy food
I avoid it like people
If I heard there was a plague in a nearby suburb
I’d go pay it a visit

I think the clock is ticking
When was time first invented?
These are the questions
Has time existed always
In my high school homeless people
Used to piss in the hallways

I’m all day with this chaotic tango of verbal mango
I hang yo, but the rope don’t choke
Instead it massages
My neck
I stick it out
Many folks respect that
But they respect is meaningless
Kuz tomorrow they’ll call retarded
Who today they called a genius

The best geniuses be self-proclaimed
I’m living in a society
Heading towards a state of no shame
I beat em to it! I’m always ahead of society
Ahead of the curve
I’m the type to burn down society
And store its remains in an urn

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Poetry

The Observer Who Comments

I was raised on the streets
I had not a thing to eat except
A breath of air, and not even fresh
In school I took tests, pure memorization
No practicality, hops
Banality rocks
In a world that dreads boredom
We ensured its antithesis
In the highest office
This is my rocker, I’m off this
Some people are born with no towel to toss in
Woe is they, I am repping for they
Kuz some people have too many problems
To blog about them all day

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Poetry

Society Piety

Social media & Wikipedia
Our generation in a nutshell
Our generation is the generation of lost souls
Aside from online, there’s no where to go

I observe this, and concur this
Is a state of emergency
But everyone suppresses
Their sense of urgency

Hmm. I’m thinking about society
In generalities, then specifics
The Christmas tree represents tradition
Even tho, I’m no longer Christian

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