"HEY MAMA LOOKIN GOOD TONIGHT!"
Thanks! and you look like a friggin...
here I want to say rapist
maybe thats too harsh
but it's what comes to mind
idiot
idiot works
you look like a fucking idiot who doesn't know when to shut the fuck up.
who doesn't know when enough is too much.
who doesn't know when to close his mouth before his teeth get broken.
who doesn't know I've got enough rage in this body to knock him down and pray for mercy.
Brooklyn's finest on the Downtown L train at 10 PM- pitiful
Yes Papi I know how I look-
I always look fuckin good
Cause I check myself in the mirror before I leave
I see a confident chica staring back at me
what do you see? cause i see a sloppy mother fucker.
Cause I see: a rapist, molester, dickless loser, tiny brained fuck.
No: I see a muthafucka with no respect for the higher sex
Did your mama teach you to act like that?
Did she feed you bullshit and teach you to act like a worthless worm?
or did you figure that out on your own?
When you and your bros, dudes, brothers, and man folk when you call after a girl
follow her a little
say excuse me- come over here
put your hands where they don't belong
drop quarters to see if she'll pick them up so you can check out her butt
When you call her a bitch for not running over and sucking your dick
you make yourself look like a fucking prick
you look like
worthless
useless
garbage
So disposable- my only reaction is to call you a RAPIST and laugh in your face
You disgrace the human race
and you will be judged.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Your disposition aint so sunny
Hello up there
It's me, crushed under your boot heel
I'm starting to get tired of your hierarchy
Could you please- get the fuck off me?
Hello up there
It's me, squashed under your thumb
I'm starting to get tired of your ideas of identity
Could you please- get the fuck off me?
Hello up there
It's me, caught in the net of your social scheme
Could you please, GET THE FUCK OFF ME?!
LET ME GO FREE
or I'll start to scream
tell the story of my injustice
tell of the destruction of my innocence
How your inventions of internet and TV's
brain washed me
into thinking I've gotta be
someone whose not me
someone who'd rather be
suffocated by your design of sexuality,
of humility,
their ideas on how the masses of humanity ought to be
that is not me- and never will be
I'm tired of your hands on my body
Your fingers trying to pick my brain
call me insane for sleeping in,
loosing the job for which I had been trained
I refused to remain part of your machine
I will release my brothers and sisters
Give them pitch forks and pens
and we will dismantle you with
your boot heels and thumbs
use your trash cans to make drums
howl at night to spread the word
the truth will be heard.
It's me, crushed under your boot heel
I'm starting to get tired of your hierarchy
Could you please- get the fuck off me?
Hello up there
It's me, squashed under your thumb
I'm starting to get tired of your ideas of identity
Could you please- get the fuck off me?
Hello up there
It's me, caught in the net of your social scheme
Could you please, GET THE FUCK OFF ME?!
LET ME GO FREE
or I'll start to scream
tell the story of my injustice
tell of the destruction of my innocence
How your inventions of internet and TV's
brain washed me
into thinking I've gotta be
someone whose not me
someone who'd rather be
suffocated by your design of sexuality,
of humility,
their ideas on how the masses of humanity ought to be
that is not me- and never will be
I'm tired of your hands on my body
Your fingers trying to pick my brain
call me insane for sleeping in,
loosing the job for which I had been trained
I refused to remain part of your machine
I will release my brothers and sisters
Give them pitch forks and pens
and we will dismantle you with
your boot heels and thumbs
use your trash cans to make drums
howl at night to spread the word
the truth will be heard.
Friday, July 23, 2010
drinking beers
wasting away
trying to remember when
life was worth a damn
was it ever worth it?
was it ever a good investment?
pbrs to pass the time away
whiskey to make the pain go away
cigarettes to pass the time away
wasting breath
wasting away
wasting talents
scorn filled faces
sorrow filled eyes
furrowed brows
pouted lips
batting eyelashes
teeth grinding out a grin
facial muscles straining a smile
foolish maneuvers at faking
happiness, interest, intrigue,
genuine doesn't live here anymore.
wasting away
trying to remember when
life was worth a damn
was it ever worth it?
was it ever a good investment?
pbrs to pass the time away
whiskey to make the pain go away
cigarettes to pass the time away
wasting breath
wasting away
wasting talents
scorn filled faces
sorrow filled eyes
furrowed brows
pouted lips
batting eyelashes
teeth grinding out a grin
facial muscles straining a smile
foolish maneuvers at faking
happiness, interest, intrigue,
genuine doesn't live here anymore.
@ The Johnsons
There is this girl I know whose life is going down the toilet faster than she can grab the handle and hold on
Her face burns from the heat of failure. Her fingers ache from trying too hard, or not hard enough.
She watches people moving on, staying stagnant and those with no direction or desire.
Where does she fit in. Where does she fall.
Change the story
Edit the beginning
Rewrite the middle
The end isn't decided until it begins
Nothing is decided until you've said it is so
What will you do?
What will you do?
Her face burns from the heat of failure. Her fingers ache from trying too hard, or not hard enough.
She watches people moving on, staying stagnant and those with no direction or desire.
Where does she fit in. Where does she fall.
Change the story
Edit the beginning
Rewrite the middle
The end isn't decided until it begins
Nothing is decided until you've said it is so
What will you do?
What will you do?
Monday, July 19, 2010
Ayyy
AYYYYY MAMI! HOW YOU DOIN!?
FUCKING AWFUL AND YOU'RE NOT HELPING!
You wanna know how I'm doing? GREAT! Fantastic! I've had a super day of working endless hours dealing with moronic coworkers and a Boss with a brain the size of a fly.
You wanna know how I'm doing? GREAT! Fan-fucking-tastic! Got stared at by some really rude women on the hot sweaty subway platform who shoved me out of the way to get to a seat.
You wanna know how I'm doing? GREAT! Fan-fucking-tastic! Went to pick up groceries and came up short. Had to put back the ice cream treat satisfaction behind.
THEN your punk ass holla'd me on the street asking me "HOW YOU DOIN'?!"
Well... I ain't doing that great.
FUCKING AWFUL AND YOU'RE NOT HELPING!
You wanna know how I'm doing? GREAT! Fantastic! I've had a super day of working endless hours dealing with moronic coworkers and a Boss with a brain the size of a fly.
You wanna know how I'm doing? GREAT! Fan-fucking-tastic! Got stared at by some really rude women on the hot sweaty subway platform who shoved me out of the way to get to a seat.
You wanna know how I'm doing? GREAT! Fan-fucking-tastic! Went to pick up groceries and came up short. Had to put back the ice cream treat satisfaction behind.
THEN your punk ass holla'd me on the street asking me "HOW YOU DOIN'?!"
Well... I ain't doing that great.
Journalism 101
On our first day of my college journalism class my teacher asked us what we hoped to accomplish with writing- where did we want our writing to take us. To myself I started to craft an answer of poignant brilliance while listening to my fellow students hopes and dreams.
"I want to become a journalist and work for a really influential news source. Like the New York Times."
A solid goal.
"I want to start my own fashion magazine that would rival Vogue."
Very ambitious.
"I want to write novels. But I'd want them to get turned into movies."
Uh.. yeah... that's what all novelist's hope for.. a movie contract.
"I want to write for Rolling Stone so I can tour with all my favorite bands."
Yes... that sounds unrealistically feasible. I'm sure Rolling Stone wants to help you meet celebrities.
"I think I'd like to work for one of those tabloid magazines!"
Alright that's not exactly what she said. But she might as well have. People magazine? TV guide? USA Weekly? That's where you want your education in writing to take you? Years of schooling, thousands of dollars, hours of energy for fucking film credit and fancy cocktails with whoever is hot right now?
"I want to write shitty romance novels that only sell at CVS."
"I want to write spam emails and mail order bride contracts."
uuuughhhh!
"And where do you want a career in writing to take you emma?"
Don't say to the bar.. Don't say to the bar...
"Well after cashing my checks for writing obituaries- I suppose I'll go to the bar."
Hah. I wish I had said that. I don't remember what I said. Probably something half-witted witty snarky and far too thought out. Something about wanting to write to take me away from the things I despise so much. Something about writing taking my toilet water swirling uncontrollable half-assed sass thoughts into brilliance which will allow me to live in a house as opposed to in the park.
With that money I'll move away from society and make moonshine to keep the sentences coming.
Eventually I'll have a psychotic break in which I realize I've become a soulless drone for society to prattle over and dissect. I have become the capitalist goat whore which I have always despised. I'll go into a furious frenzy due to an overdose of herbal supplements. I'll start to hallucinate and watch my books form a stairway to hell.
Not glamorous. But good enough for someone to write a book about and then turn into a movie.
Turning profits has always been easier than turning a page.
"I want to become a journalist and work for a really influential news source. Like the New York Times."
A solid goal.
"I want to start my own fashion magazine that would rival Vogue."
Very ambitious.
"I want to write novels. But I'd want them to get turned into movies."
Uh.. yeah... that's what all novelist's hope for.. a movie contract.
"I want to write for Rolling Stone so I can tour with all my favorite bands."
Yes... that sounds unrealistically feasible. I'm sure Rolling Stone wants to help you meet celebrities.
"I think I'd like to work for one of those tabloid magazines!"
Alright that's not exactly what she said. But she might as well have. People magazine? TV guide? USA Weekly? That's where you want your education in writing to take you? Years of schooling, thousands of dollars, hours of energy for fucking film credit and fancy cocktails with whoever is hot right now?
"I want to write shitty romance novels that only sell at CVS."
"I want to write spam emails and mail order bride contracts."
uuuughhhh!
"And where do you want a career in writing to take you emma?"
Don't say to the bar.. Don't say to the bar...
"Well after cashing my checks for writing obituaries- I suppose I'll go to the bar."
Hah. I wish I had said that. I don't remember what I said. Probably something half-witted witty snarky and far too thought out. Something about wanting to write to take me away from the things I despise so much. Something about writing taking my toilet water swirling uncontrollable half-assed sass thoughts into brilliance which will allow me to live in a house as opposed to in the park.
With that money I'll move away from society and make moonshine to keep the sentences coming.
Eventually I'll have a psychotic break in which I realize I've become a soulless drone for society to prattle over and dissect. I have become the capitalist goat whore which I have always despised. I'll go into a furious frenzy due to an overdose of herbal supplements. I'll start to hallucinate and watch my books form a stairway to hell.
Not glamorous. But good enough for someone to write a book about and then turn into a movie.
Turning profits has always been easier than turning a page.
up all night
6 AM on the fire escape listening to bird chatter
Looking over at the neighbour's backyard gardens
Watching the sky turning from dawn to morning
A thin layer of clouds drift along
Stretching out
Yawning with me
They too have been up all night
The sun rises higher
It filters through the leafy trees casting abstract shadows on the apartment's backsides
Looking over at the neighbour's backyard gardens
Watching the sky turning from dawn to morning
A thin layer of clouds drift along
Stretching out
Yawning with me
They too have been up all night
The sun rises higher
It filters through the leafy trees casting abstract shadows on the apartment's backsides
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