Xmas Xcitement

Santa stands at arms
Locked within a snowglobe
Puffed up with air, chest proud
Belly prouder
Air flow creates snow effects
His world, himself,
Metaphysical bubbles,
Bubbles on bubbles
With hard plastic shells

Contortions

Stimming in piss, voodoo
Shit hoodoo
Contained explosive
To handle neurosis
Emotive expression
Kali in seconds
Flames and lesions
Roman legions
Neon brown
Freyon Sound
Like Enterprise doors
Better eyes score
Better brains imagine
What really is happening
But better thoughts don't exist
Than solemn woes drowned in piss
Shattered beyond devastation
Tatter the verb, manifestation
The noun, protruding
As a school shooting
The mind is removed by chaos
Reality comes back slowly in waves
Tomes for the masses locked away
Written in stone broken like glass panes
Deny everything,
Self-regard
Actions escaping
From the heart

RIP KJI

Kim Jong-il, gotta say peace
from piece-of-shit Patrill
Another ballaholic steady gettin' bills
Seems like you're down now forever
And I'm left to think I coulda known you better.
Whatever you did to get a starving country on your back
Stress yourself out, coulda arrested your cardiac
Kept shit running, but shit was all you had
Plus a son, Kim Jong-un to takeover
Well kid, break's over, thanks dad.
You died in your country, you died poetically.
But was there a day when you said fuck this gray suit?
Got tired of the lousy North Korean rain,
Your country's lack of birds, surely that void of chirping
A conscience pang
But more a need to get away
A cowardly decision sure but one just for you
One day you said to yourself I'm done
Put some money aside and got a new identity
Built a nice swank mansion in the Phillipines
High walls like Osama had, on second thought scratch that
Nobody would think it's you anyways
Had a stroke once so you stayed close to family
A soldier at his post you woul never leave
Doctor's orders too got you doing business through embassies
So you go to a place where nobody notices
Maybe we do all look the same, you think
You change your frames, no you get contacts
You laugh at that, you've severed so many
But at least you had your money
And I'm not saying this to be subversive, cute or funny
Just saying that he probably could've used a break like all of us
But what distinguised Kim from us was
That he could afford to die,
Just like Elvis

Devil Without a Cause - History

'Yo he was true to his shit
Gave it his heart and soul
Shined like a diamond
But was passed as coal
So fuck off' if you hate that I bited
But H.E.R.in' K.R. I still get excited
And I write it, this shit that he spit
And it's 13 years old
And still people talk about rap rock
And leave him in the cold
And say it's music without soul
Yeah maybe You know him as a country singer,
I like to think he was a culture bringer
Cause Twisted Brown Trucker was like Family Stone
And kid did over 11 milly sold
So at least the people gave him a diamond
Unlike all these mc's falsely shinin'
And sure you don't like Kid Rock
Cause you don't recognize rap rock
You listen to Limp Bizkit and think these guys suck cock
And Mike Shinoda's flow you scope as more MS than MC
True Crazy Town never spent no time in the penitentiary
And for every de la Rocha, you got ten Papa Roaches
And Y2K was when rap rock was most played
White guys that could barely mc were steady gettin paid
And that fell out like the goddamn NASDAQ
And aside from eminem you couldn't rap if you weren't black
So Kid Rock fell off the charts and he had to come back as country
But at least for a moment we had a hillbilly OG

A poem from The Future

Fuck the Dow Jones cause when it's real
I don't even need a microphone
Nor a record company backing me
No publishing deal even no fans
I imagine these words like I'm John Lennon
Preaching from his pulpit, a poetic reverend
Words are all most of us have
Nouns and verbs and the gift of gab
A post-apocalyptic world
Or just one where everybody's broke
MCs freestylin' they ain't no joke
War-torn world most records got burned
Government wreckers keep music it don't deem safe
In a safe, they say
Ignorance is taught to school kids and you can bet they learn
But you can't keep a poetic man down
Much less a poetic woman's scorn
Hell hath no fury still
Even with so many buried with the nuclear chill
The spread of poison effecting mind, body, soul
Still we keep our voices loud
Our mouths they can not control
At least not all at once
Step to the government whenever they front
Never give an inch, never compromise
Live honestly and never lie
Fuck poetry when the time comes
You bear arms and die

Yes, you mess with me
Get under my skin
With little tact
It's a sin
And you wonder why anyone
Couldn't absolutely love you
Yes, you think you can hang
You do a pretty good job of pretending
But you don't know anything
You're weak
You shield yourself with comfort
Insanity is a straight jacket
Your words a nasal racket
A mess, yes, that I just can't deal with
Your whole cypher is a myth
Your whole life you've missed
The point
Still young yet
Your parents mistakes in front of you
Like a path to take, a road clearly strewn
And you know your doomed fate
You take from others
As if their words were just free
You envelope trust and breed honesty
In others, you do this as a crutch
To your own perceived inabilities
Yes, you make me angry
Because you do not know anything
You just pretend that you do
Lie that it is true
Yes, I know you
Yes, I know your ignorance
Yes, I regret not knowing sooner

Next

Trying to keep something out of my head
yet I sit and write poetry instead
I got this mentality
this crazy abnormality
to forget the things I shouldn't
and regret the ways I couldn't
so I gotta clean out my memory
of all the good, the bad and the heavenly
I'll never listen to that song cause it makes me feel foolish
and I can't stand to think on things that do this
so I got to put you, I mean "it," out of the way
this is all so I can get through my day

Wait!

Eyes set against my taciturn face
I try to remain cool and not give away
The pain set in that tends to remain
Yet leaves for a while only to return
To tell me I miss you, for your soul I burn
The Love, the Worries, the Fear and Concerns.
The way I pressed forward is my regret
The things I asked seemed to put you in debt.
It was always the wrong things that made me fret
Makes me wonder what came of us when we met
Everyday now is pain, regret and it's loss
The times I would speak were the times I would boss
Control, Manage and manipulate
All in my sick desire for fate
Wait!

10 Things I Hate About U of C

I hate how U make me go all the way to the prof's offices to get a comfy and clean place to shit.

I hate U for Ur lack of consistent interior decorating, got me all confused on what decade it is.

I hate U for having three Tim Horton's that won't take my Tim's card.

I despise Ur Subway.

I hate that U think having a hotel makes any sense and then U pick the ugliest looking building for it, don't give people that impression of my city, it ain't cool.

I hate that U won't let me buy smokes, my gambling and alcoholism U are cool with though.

I hate that U never have enough of the comfy chairs.

I hate that U took away all those computers in the old library. I guess not being a compulsive-facebook-checking-concentration-wrecking-solitaire-playing laptop user means I draw the short straw.

I hate that U allow so much tacky and meaningless adverstising and I hate that Ur SU campaigns for being the worst culprit, what are we voting for anyways???

But most of all I deeply hate that U make me so sad about leaving U. U with Ur crap food and piss poor theatres, beautiful women in overabundance that don't got no time to talk on their way to class and profs that are lovely and inspiring and smarter than I'll ever be.

Thank U for Ur knowledge, I'll miss U but don't forget I still fucking hate U.

Mahalo (Maya)

Patti Smith: the focus,
the jumpoff, the fountainhead,
the start, a Rock & Roll poet
with a New York heart

Robert Mapplethorpe: A painter,
a jeweller, a collage artist.
Like most gay men when
AIDS came he got hit the hardest

Just Kids, two friends meet in the
60's, brought together by their outcast
artistry. First lovers but more
friends, still closer, siblings

Smith has these wild poet dreams
Imagining free form poetry and
Breaking rules, glass windows too.
Poet Laureate of Punk, Heavy Metal Dylan

Mapplethorpe, a good Catholic
When he could handle it
Needed the world to see
Sexually charged photos of flowers and men
Women naked, even in their clothes

A young kid runs into Horses (normally allergic)
"Jesus died for somebody's sins" but not we
Punk in a Kind of Blue sense. Improvise!
and Rise Above, but always always always do it with love

Just Kids hits this kid as an adult
A grown-up right? Wrong! Never in line,
Rarely on time an individual through and through
Live till we die, do what we do.

Thank You

Poem written from strife and ultimately for Stefania

I lost what I had
Now where did it go?
A sick type rhyme something metaphorical
A question I earned the answer to
knew it, rhetorical
Got caught, happens a lot
Within my bullshit, I forgot
Now I'm staring at the page like Nick Cage staring in a mirror
The rhymes are coming now but it ain't getting clearer
I lost it like a foster kid
Cause I thought I embossed it
You know, like I had it in my head
Within me forever
The decision not to write, can't say it was clever
Cause I'm not
I forgot, I forgot, I forgot
And that's a lot that I leave behind
Grand thoughts of mine, ooze out of me like slime
Time after time and I vent cause I rhyme
But I can't intuit always how to do it
I mean how I did it, and my mind don't stay with it
And thoughts may feel here but they ain't here to stay
Read Plato
On what's it called? Phae?
Nope it was Phaedrus, who said writing is a drug
Cause the mind is sick, you know it really can't remember shit
This pen, this pad though I don't see as no crutch
I ain't got this memorized like some double dutch

[and that's it]

Untitled Biggie Riff

We'll jump off with some Smalls

"When I die, fuck it, I want to go to hell
Cause I'm a piece of shit, it ain't hard to fuckin' tell."

But yo it is hard to tell
The way your brain seems to swell
Hopeless I feel through a life eternal

Makes me wonder about God, if He made life sacred
Just to give me my own and have me wanna take it

I bust down just thinking about it, I don't wanna die
Still I remain curious, wanna give it a try

We leave and from those around us
A bet with unknown odds
We can choose the time but are we ever certain?
Maybe death is only and always by accident and no one truly wants it
In the end

An "Off-Switch"
to stress to love to time to commitment to identity to pain to guilt
to death?

It is hard to tell
Blame it on how my brain swells
When I let my mind dwell remind
Myself
I'm living in Hell
Hate the world box myself in never ever tell

But I don't
Simply won't but instead
Let death come to me
as an accident
I choose to live a life poetic
Don't need to control my own death

The Poet [a fragment]

(rules for the poet)

The poet is a craftsman, he must always have his tools at the ready

The poet must aspire to beauty, must praise it as a god, God or His most important attribute. The poet must try to emulate beauty in all of her works

The poet must embrace a life poetic

The poet must never embrace death for life fosters greater poetry than death

The poet must always fail