Laurel’s Day (my Mother’s Birthday)

Laurel’s Day
(Happy Birthday Mom)

I hear there is a secret to the way ya do things
I’m perplexed by you sometimes mother because i wonder if we can rewrite what’s supposed to be history
Because Life used to be a mystery soaked with hilarious jokes and a lot of false smiles
Sometimes you reminisce how you walked down the aisle, or how you traveled
And sometimes i catch you unraveling oh dear mother
Don’t go just for any time, you are a superstar standing in your own way, your shadows are never to far, but i want you know that you’ll always be my star on Laurel’s Day

Please celebrate and just admit your a beautiful, i’m not lying because i don’t have a leg to pull
You are the ceiling, hanging yourself
So instead of             *Sulking*
Rearrange yourself
Oh mother, i catch you sometimes unraveling
With the weight of the world
Thinking about when you in high school, or when you were a little girl
Don’t hate yourself and don’t go this time, you might just be a superstar standing in your own way, Laurel’s Day can’t be the same without Laurel
My words can’t be true if i lacked meaning, but all these visions i’ve been seeing
They keep me believing that there is a no day that has been deceiving our line of sight, but i know that there will be Laurel’s day when its right

Whether it’s missing teeth or a overbite, you are still out of sight
Whether it’s a knock in your step, or the bands that you rep you’ll always be the next step far from obscurity
my birthday poems growing with maturity
Mom you mean more to me then any other person, i might just be a big fan, so i’ll set fire to the rain and stay right where i stand
We missed each other while i was in residential, and our relationship has never been to potential but tonight is the night for something
Expediential
So listen, it’s us against the world “Fuck The Rest”
Had our finger up to the world for a minute ma
Staying calm in chaos couldnt have been from a better conglomerate

Ode to my Grandma

 

 

Ode to my Grandma (Round 2)

 

Grandma, I miss the times when you’d kiss my cheek and we’d talk

About all my plans which at the time I wrote in chalk, not permanent

But now I wish I could tell you these ideas have fermented in my head and now I’m ready to live by the lyrical words and write free verse like some shit you’ve never ever heard

Because you are a Lion God, with so much passion, and I remember when you threw your cane at those kids messing with your trash and, when you told me to never give up

And sometimes I might hiccup like a pause in the beat, but I’ll claim my throne on any seat, and never concede to defeat

I’m a parasite in a system, a pistol among sharpshooters, a crazy bastard who moonlights as a master of the words

I have my own bible, notes I took from my grandma

Words she muttered between the drag of a cigarette, knife on the wall and fist like a brick, you make the call?
You take the risk, you step to her and be slapped mostly by wisdom and pep

Down to fight even with a replaced hip

She taught me…

Life is a fatal sickness, perpendicular to strep and we all have to found something to represent before we get lost in retrospect

Taking care of an entire family to ride the waves of a tsunami, traveled the world while I watched toonami

She was a boss of all bosses, live and prosper at all costs

Never count your losses, and the only time to worry

Is if the pain you feel is more than the love you’ve received

Time is a spec compared to a giant chess bored where I used to make my move, high above the trees in your backyard grandma

We’d throw rocks off the porch

Smoke a cigarette during the drama as she would count the commas, the wisdom was unreal

Something a thirteen year old boy could love and feel

And when my dad wasn’t there, my grandma was
For that there will always be lots of love

All the live I ever received paled in the comparison of my grandma and I

And as the rest of my cousins decided to hate, my grandma taught me everything and helped me decide my fate

I can read her my book, now’s not to late

Sometimes I feel like sedating myself to crawl away from life’s pain but then I remember my grandma

He didn’t stand, she ran toward the problems facing all around her land

She is so tough I like to call her my main man, but she might sock me so I stick to best friend

My favorite person from now to the end

 

 

Remy Santana: January 6th (Short Story)

Remy Santana 

 

January 6th

 

            “Look at this fucking guy Rem, I’m telling you I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. The man is a pederast, if you don’t believe me and do something about it I will,” said Ricardo fidgeting in his seat. Remy started grinding his teeth looking at Jonathan, one of the workers at his grandmother’s retirement home.

            “I don’t like this place man, it’s creepy as fuck,” said Hanley. Ricardo, Remy and Hanley had each sniffed a several lines of cocaine before they had gone into the New Haven “Jewish Home”. They were all being loud, covered in a dense layer of sweat and in Hanley’s case he had some cocaine on his nostril.

            “You got a little something there, nah right there bro,” said Ricardo pointing to Hanley’s nostril. He nodded his head, wiped his nose with his finger and shot the little particles up his nose. Ricardo rolled his eyes while Remy had his fixated on Jonathan. He had on high pants, he wore Velcro shoes and he had a comb over. His smile and voice reached beyond the limits of bizarre, and his demeanor suggested what Ricardo was saying had to be absolutely true. The drugs persuaded Remy to believe there was no other plausible explanation for this man to be working in a convalescent home. Remy wanted to take this man, whip out his gun and break his teeth with it. All this made sense when you were to that high.

            Remy kept a steady glare on Jonathan as his Grandmother finally walked in. She waved over to him as the three of them stood up. Ricardo and Hanley worked for Remy for three years and they had grown to know his grandmother Ana Marie as if she was their own. That was the way she was, especially when she was well. Remy had watched his grandmother’s health decline quickly. The timeline was fairly cohesive with the extension of his drug use.

            “Hi grandma,” said Remy walking over to greet his grandmother. She smiled and he kissed her on the cheek. He wasn’t sure if she even knew who he was at that point, over time she had started to call him Carlo. Carlo was Remy’s dead brother who had been gone for about five years. He was gunned down by rival gang members near the Methadone clinic on East Street. He never visited his grandmother, who raised Remy and Carlo after their mother overdosed. It was a bleak life, one that made it feel natural to do wrong.

            “Yes, yeah, it is that way. You know? Yeah that’s it,” muttered Ana Marie Santana looking at her grandson. She smiled a little but then looked clueless again which made Remy sick to his stomach. He closed his eyes and looked down at the ground as Ricardo and Hanley helped Ana Marie into her chair.

            “How have you been Grandma? Did they give back your teeth?” asked Remy grabbing his grandmother’s cold hand. He rubbed it with his finger as she looked up at him and smiled again. She nodded her head but stayed silent.

            “Hello Ms. Santana, how are you. Do you remember the last time we were here, we did the Irish sing a long,” said Ricardo. Ana Marie turned her head and looked at him and smiled.

            “Yes Carlo, of course. Of course, yes, of course. And that’s daddy,” said Ana Marie. Remy sighed and looked up at the ceiling in frustration.

            “Where is my husband? Get me my husband now! Send him a message, tell him I’m ready to go home!” shouted Nancy, one of the other patients. They were all in the dining room as it was six pm and they usually would eat dinner around four in the afternoon. Remy and the crew purposely avoided dinner at all costs, due to the sight of his grandmother struggling to eat. While they ate there would be arguments, fights and beeping from the various gadgets beneath the residents that would go off when they would stand up.

            It was a gloomy environment that nobody wanted to be, and it was a constant reminder to Remy that he wasn’t living up to his grandmother’s spirit. At least he didn’t believe so, he knew deep down that if she was ok she would tell him to leave her alone and live his own life. Nevertheless Remy felt obligated to take care of his grandmother, and it killed him when he realized that even if he hustled relentlessly and used all his savings he’d only be able to afford a decent place for six months. The reason he was reluctant to do that, was because it would cripple Remy for the near future and he didn’t honestly believe he could do things any faster.

            “T-t-t-the b-b-baby, where is Carlo? C-c-c-ca-can you find it?” stuttered Ana Marie as she began to shake.

            “Should we call the nurse?” asked Hanley as Remy grasped her hand and dropped his head. He winced as he watched her in pain. He remembered the day that she told him if she ever got bad and stopped being able to function normally, to take her outside and shoot her.

            “Let’s call the nurse Rem, she isn’t well man. I’ll go get her,” said Ricardo standing up. Right after Ricardo walked away there was a loud scream that came from a different room.

            “Fuck this place scares me,” said Hanley shaking his head with an expression of disbelief. As Ana Marie kept stuttering, Remy brought her even closer to him. He had her face against his chest but she kept talking. Remy looked up to see the nurse coming over.

            “She sometimes refuses to take her meds, but if you all are here it might be easier to persuade her to take them. You are Remy?” asked the nurse to Ricardo.

            “No I’m Remy, these are my friends Hanley and Ricardo,” said Remy pinching his nose and then wiping it with the back of his hand. The nurse looked at him with an odd expression as he started to sniffle, but then turned around.

            “What’s she looking at?” asked Remy shrugging his shoulders. Ana Marie started to laugh obliviously as there was another scream in the other room. A few moments passed and then the Nurse returned carrying two cups, one considerably smaller than the other one.

            “Here she comes,” muttered Hanley as the nurse came back over smiling.

            “Ok Remy, could you help me with this. She hates taking pills,” said the Nurse to Remy quietly. She then turned to Ana Marie, who was sitting next to Remy. “Ok Ana Marie, are you having a nice visit with your grandson?”

            “Yes, v-v-v-very nice, yes,” stuttered Ana Marie.

            “Grandma,” said Remy.

            “Yes!” shouted Ana Marie suddenly becoming hostile. Remy sighed and scratched his neck. He pinched his nose and sniffled as the Nurse looked at him again with a suspicious gaze.

            “Grandma you have to take these pills now, please do it for me ok?” said Remy bluntly. Ana Marie nodded her head but he wasn’t sure what that meant.

            “Here is your meds sweetheart,” said the Nurse bending down and placing a few capsules into Ana Marie’s hand. She held them and didn’t put them in her mouth, so the nurse grabbed her hand and brought it up to her mouth. “Put them in your mouth. Ana Marie, put them in your mouth.”

            “Grandma, please take your medicine. Do what the nurse says,” said Remy putting his hand on his grandmother’s knee. She nodded her head and then put the capsules into her mouth.

            “Good job,” said the Nurse bringing her the other cup. The nurse was clearly surprised that Ana Marie actually took the cup and drank the water. “Great job Ana Marie, have a nice visit with your grandson.”

            “Y-y-yes, I will. Tell da-da-daddy ok?”

            The nurse walked away, so Hanley and Ricardo pulled their seats back over. Remy looked down at the ground for some time but lifted his head up when he remembered that there was a candy bar in the car. He had noticed that he stuttering and shaking had gone done, but she was still muttering nonsensical words that nobody could understand.

            “Yo, I’ll be right back. Grandma, I’ll be right back ok? I have a surprise for you,” said Remy bending down to kiss his grandmother on the forehead. He walked away from her, Hanley and Ricardo exiting dining room from the front. He walked through their little sitting room, past the nurse and then to the door. The door was locked as this was the Harbor, also known as the dementia and Alzheimer’s ward. Remy tried to remember the code to press, but was struggling. The nurse must have noticed and came over to push the numbers in.

            Remy thanked her, opened the door and watched it close behind him to make sure that no one left behind him. After the door closed he cruised through the long hallways completely zoning out. He passed lots of people and would nod to all of them, some not looking back. As he floated through the halls his vision started to become blurry and convoluted, his skin started to feel pasty. He began to crave drugs and knew that once he got back to the car he had to do a few lines.

            Remy became sick to his stomach after he passed patients who smelled viciously of urine and feces. Remy’s stomach turned after walking by one room that really smelled foul. After he had passed through that he walked into a room that had a large gazebo in it. A few patients were sitting with family at the couches and the tables. Remy started to walk a little faster as he began to crave the cocaine more and more. He finally got to the lobby to take a right and finally leave the building.

            Their car was parked in a handicap space because Remy hadn’t been sure if they were leaving that day to go out to eat and also because he was lazy. He pressed the button to unlock his Black Nissan GT-R and then opened the car door. He slid into the front seat but didn’t close the door. He looked back to see the bag full of candy bars and brought it up to the front. After that he looked around the car trying to remember where they put the cocaine. He then realized it was in the glove compartment. So he reached over and pulled the bag out. He looked around the parking lot and then turned back to the bag. He grabbed some with two fingers and then dropped some on the back of his hand below the knuckle. He pushed one nostril closed and then shot it up the other. He sat there and put his seat back and must have dozed off for a few minutes. He then awoke and decided to do some more. Just as he poured a line on his finger and went in to shoot it up his nose her heard someone calling his name.

            He flipped out and dropped the bag into his lap.

            “Remy, you there?” asked Hanley. Remy looked over to see Hanley walking out of the front door. Remy started punching on the steering wheel and basically growling as his friend walked over. “What’s wrong man?”

            “You scared the shit out of me man! Fuck man!” yelled Remy. Hanley walked up closer and opened the passenger seat.

            “Oh you fucking jackass, you spilled all the shit man! Come on, you’ve got to watch what you are doing!” exclaimed Hanley. They both stepped out of the car and started to clean up by dabbing the cocaine and then putting it on his gums. There actually wasn’t that much on the seat, not at all but everything that was ended up back in their nose or in their mouth.

            “Why did you come out here? Where is Ricardo?” asked Remy.

            “Oh that’s right I meant to tell you,” said Hanley rubbing his hands through his long black ponytail.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         “So we were sitting there right, and then your grandmother said something. Now we heard it, but she wouldn’t say it again for us but maybe she’ll say it for you?”

            “What did she say man, come on!” howled Remy as he shot a line up his nose from his finger. The drugs made him grow more and more impatient.

            “So Ricardo was talking about getting a massage, and Ana Marie says that man Jonathan could do it for him. So Ricky and I were like woah, so we asked her about it and she said that he takes her pants off,” said Hanley. Remy just starred at Hanley while shaking violently. He was so angry that his finger nails had cut through the skin on his palm. When Remy would snort cocaine he’d always get very violent and angry, it was usually part of his job, but today he was with his grandmother. He knew something bad was going to happen.

            “Are you telling the truth, swear to me that you are telling the truth man?” demanded Remy grabbing the collar of his friend’s coat.

            “Honestly I wouldn’t be lying about something like that,” said Hanley. After speaking he shot some cocaine up his nose and shook his head. “That guy in there is weird Rem. We watched him, he kissed one of the patients right smack on the lips.”

            “Are you fucking serious man, fuck!” yelled Remy slamming his hand on the steering wheel. “Where is Ricardo, I hope he is with my grandma?”

            “He is with your grandmother, should I go get him?”

            “No don’t go…wait yeah bring my grandmother to bed. I’ll come by and see her tomorrow, but just put her to bed and casually ask that fucking piece of shit when he is getting off from work. Seek a random conversation, you know what I mean? Be like, must be rough days here, when you getting off?” instructed Remy.

            “Alright, I’ll say it just like that,” said Hanley. He got up from the car and walked back into the front entrance. Remy watched Hanley nearly fuming from his ears. In a moment of unsurpassed clarity, he realized that what he was going to do was wrong. But something about Jonathan made Remy sick, he looked like a pedophile. Remy knew about that, something that only he and the uncle that molested him and Carlo knew.

            As he sat there steaming whilst snorting dangerous amounts of cocaine, he realized that he was becoming sick sitting there. He probably had done to much, as his heart rate had gone up to an insane rate and he was sweating profusely. He started to wonder if this was the end. If he started to convulse or have a severe seizure, he wondered if it would be ok. If he would have done enough in his life to where if he died at that very moment it would be ok, and he decided that he hadn’t. So Remy got out the car and lit a cigarette.

            As he smoked the cigarette and stood there, he started to become rather woozy. His eyes kept drifting closed so he flicked the cigarette to the ground and smashed it with his foot. After he stumbled back over to the car and fell asleep. It took another half hour for Ricardo and Hanley to come out, as they casually had a conversation with Jonathan. When they came out they figured that Remy was dead by the way his head was back.

            “Rem, wake up bro,” said Ricardo pushing his friends shoulder. Remy woke up abruptly and jerked his body up nearly colliding heads with Ricardo. The front door of the car was open, luckily the car was off.

            “Yeah what happened?” asked Remy looking at two old women who had walked out of the front entrance. They stared at them for a few seconds but then shifted their attention to walking to their car.

            “He should be coming out any second man, and he is done with his shift. I said that we wanted to show him something of your grandmothers,” said Ricardo. Remy nodded his head and slapped his hands together with glee.

            “Alright so get ready. Get your guns ready just in case. Let’s all stand by the trunk and be really nice, this is going to be great,” said Remy. He looked over at the front entrance and opened the glove compartment. He stuck his finger into the bag and then put it into his mouth. After he jumped out the car looking around meticulously, he adjusted his handgun which was tucked in his pants. Remy bent down and opened the trunk and then finally closed the car door which had been opened for about an hour. Remy gravitated toward the back of the car and leaned against the side.

            Multiple people were coming out of the entrance at that point, none of which were Jonathan. Remy sighed and closed her eyes for a few minutes. He opened them when he heard Ricardo howl, “Hey Jonathan, over here.”

            “Hello, I’m sorry but I’ll miss the bus if I don’t go now,” said Jonathan as he walked over to their car. His voice sent chills down Remy’s back and fear through his heart. He knew he was close to having a flashback.

            “We can give you a ride home, that’s no problem,” said Remy nodding his head.

            “That would be very nice, are you sure?”

            “Yeah we are sure, come on get it,” insisted Remy. Ricardo walked over to the passenger side and slid the seat up. As Jonathan stepped in Remy grabbed Hanley. “When we get there I pull over. We do the trunk.”

            With that Hanley stepped into the passenger side front seat and immediately closed the glove compartment which was wide open. Luckily Jonathan couldn’t see much in the dark, but they didn’t want it to spill all over the place. Ricardo and Jonathan had already been situated in the back seat. Remy started up the car without further ado and sped off.

            “So where do you live boss?” asked Remy pinching his nose and wiping his forehead.

            “I live on Mill River Street it’s not far from here. The dead end street that’s just ahead of Humphreys and behind the old Starter building,” said Jonathan. His voice once again freaked Remy out and made him angry.

            “Yeah so we appreciate how you take care of my grandmother. She is a beautiful woman right?” said Remy looking back at Jonathan as they stopped at a red light.

            “Yes she is very beautiful. She looks a lot like you. Was that your mother who always comes in?” asked Jonathan with a weary smile.

            “Come again?” asked Remy wiping his forehead.

            “Is that your mother, the woman that visits with your grandmother? She looks exactly like you.”

            “No that’s my Aunt Mina,” exclaimed Remy as they drove past the diner and turned into the Starter Building.

            “Oh no sir, my house is beyond that tunnel,” said Jonathan as Remy drove deeper into the parking lot.

            “We forgot to show you that painting of my grandma,” said Remy. Jonathan just went with the flow as he sat there holding his small lunchbox. Once they stopped, Remy and Hanley shot from their seats to the outside. Their dressy oxfords and loafers on the pavement was a welcoming sound. Jonathan slowly departed from the backseat and stood there not knowing where to go. “I apologize but the painting is in the trunk.”

            Remy went to open it while Hanley and Ricardo reached for their guns. The trunk popped open and Remy walked over to lift it open all the way. Jonathan turned his head because there was nothing there. Hanley and Ricardo expected a tense tough guy dialogue, but Remy just grabbed the back of his head and smashed it a few times against the trunk door. The cracking sound was loud and it didn’t look like Jonathan would be getting up.

            “Get him into the trunk and then grab his phone in case he wakes up,” said Remy as Ricardo and Hanley had him in their arms. They dropped him into the trunk and closed it, then looked around and saw nobody. The part of the building that faced them had no windows and there were few cars there as well. As Hanley got into the back seat, Remy turned on the car and grabbed the bag of cocaine. Ricardo slammed the door after he was in and took a deep breath.

            “Now what?”

 

 

 

Old People of the Future!

I always visit my grandmother every month, sadly I can’t see her more because she lives so far away. She used to live in a very nice, well kept little community, but wow was it expensive. We basically had no chance of long term residence for my grandmother there. So we had to sacrifice and she is in a home which she is starting to really enjoy.

One thing is that my grandmother, is the source of my inspiration. I almost cry when i think about her, because of all the amazing things she did. I was a pampered, well taken care of boy and it was mostly due to my mother and my grandmother. She had lots of money making it possible, and she was always willing to go the extra mile for someone in the family. Now that my grandma’s isn’t doing so well, there is no family.

However i chose not to drown in the sorrow of a past, even though i often find that the vivid memories are more difficult to shake then others. As a kid i went through a lot, mostly rooted in anxiety and depression. Even to this day i still feel the same, but it wasn’t like that as a very young kid.

My grandma and I would go and make fun of people at the grocery store, she’d call people fat, get into fistfights over cigarettes, use the “n” word more then Chief Keef and she’d throw you out the house in a second. We were extremely close but i got thrown out twice for bad jokes. My favorite memory is when we fist watched Goodfellas, the first scene was so radical i couldn’t believe it!

The worst memory, was saying goodbye to my grandmother before the dementia ate away at her brain. Even without most of the contents of her brain functioning correctly, my grandma is still the same woman. She’d beat the hell out of you, she’d diss you and call you names you never heard on.

This made me think, what will old people be like in the future? Will they be decked out on the couch in high waist skinny jeans and gauges, playing some Nintendo game. Will an 88 year old woman’s biggest concern be…lose Twitter? It’s a morbid thought, how this world works. But think about the new generations, things are changing so quickly we can’t even keep up. The assembly lines for phones is slower then the rapid growth of humanity. I’m just curious, will they have Tablets at the retirement home libraby?

Nightmares (ReRelease #1)

Tears on the hillside, please don’t take me this way

I want to stay and become somebody, I want to prove you all wrong

And I can see the city at night from my bedroom window

Gashes from lashing on my legs

But I don’t want your tears

I just want you to know

That if meteors came falling from the sky, I’d still be there to love you

When the music stopped I’d be there to sing

I want you to listen to me

I just want you know, that I’m bigger then this

 

I hurt your child and you look down at me

But I feel like I’ve been away while you got to sit and stay

Don’t look at me, please don’t look at me that way

I’m scared of the pain and the long hard days

These black eyes and the nights when I didn’t know if I’d stay alive

My mother sleep, apologies on his bloodied fists

I don’t want your tears and I don’t need your love

I just want you to know

That when night dawned on my side I needed someone to care

I needed something to be there

Don’t you dare look at me that way

Don’t talk about me that way, don’t you dare

Because I’ve gone through the fucking shit, while you got to float away

I needed a home, while you needed your day

 

And I’ve fought for my life every single night

I did everything to keep breathing, I had to keep my eyes open to keep seeing

And I know that I’ve been gone while you got to sit and stay

I’ve been wrong, and that’s all you say

I need someone to love me, and need to make sense of these nightmares

This is a righteous plea, because fear has a hold on me

I’ve apologized a million times through so many rhymes, but you’ve read but one

Please don’t take me this way, I can’t take seeing the past

I don’t have time for arguments and back talk, I want something to happen

And I’ll say it one more time, I don’t need your love, I don’t need your hugs

I just want you to know
I’ve been through the night times, I’ve been through the halls

I was being hurt, but you didn’t hear my call

So don’t you dare look at me that way, don’t you dare have a word to say

This is my time, this is for me

Some nights when I’d rather flee, then have nightmares I can’t make sense of

Some nights I’d do anything to relive what I had to see

For my Grandma (2nd Re-Release)

My Grandma taught me everything i know, and one of the things she repeated often was, “Dont Take No shit from nobody.”

 

Painted a lullaby and the child inside wanted to cry, physical description to show how I’ll die, I’ll replace every swear with a bleep, clean up my act and pledge in some prayers that my soul is for god to keep, fake like I’m indebted to religion, indentured to some sort of spiritual beginning. Buts its my Grandma who I’m owing, Edwina the Queen, I’m not going to fake like I have a hard gangster lean, but my family started the new haven scene, it was 1950s, travel back in time to get the definition of mean

 

A Clip of even numbers in my umbrella, alphabet cars painted blue, red, and vanilla, switched from acting hard to a pink hat like DJ Yella, and now I have a hell of a smell, for the misery, and the pain, I threw myself into rehabilitation with nothing to lose and  nothing to gain. I held pictures of my grandma to keep from going completely insane, shot caller in a mental institution sporting a benzodiazepine gleam from a whole different lane, I conquered my demons but I made it look plain.

 

That place erased all restrictions and moral, Desensitized to the violence but I can’t write raps about slinging Cristal , I can only embrace my Grandparents as my two best pals, the hate almost derailed my voyage home and I fucked up the tall roadblocks to the height of a gnome. I think about days sitting in room with blood dripping, I was crying all alone. If you had my genetics or looked through my eyes, why would you worry about dying when you roll the dice, Grandson of a Queen so why would I never not rise, blessed to be able to observe the stars, I can upgrade my home and crash a fast car. Through all my success my Gran will never go too far from my heart, sprinkle cigarette ashes on the daily depart

 

 

 

And with all this debauchery, some of us chose to go on and on about pubescent philosophy

 

And this is the plight of the living dead, verbatim is a death sentence so never quote what I said, now I’m reminiscing about the days when I didn’t have two thousand fans and the potential to publish a revolution right at my hands. Gil Scott Heron would be proud, passed down the asterisk and the slant, Black Panthers are gone but now I’m the man

 

Kool G Rap was on the edge of sanity, and now I sit back judging this calamity, the town is overflowing with drugs and prostitution to bring the grit to reality, calling out losers is just a formality, to win is like spewing debonair profanity and I’m crushing a hyped house of shit and I’m not talking about Amity, disturbing the peace to the metal of the wood and drawers that are shitty, I was bred in the underbelly of a ugly city, I’ve got the lock on the these other skinny cats, can’t touch me or the way I’m shitting facts

 

So fuck copyright, Fuck Rights and Motherfuck the peace, I’m the man behind the book taking a stance. My message contradicts my sickness, decided the winner early to add some speed and art to my hit list, who rhymes like this spitting in tongues with such quickness, I’ll bomb the world with mediocre physical fitness, I got this world on Lockdown and I see the horizon with my grandma as my witness. There were three sides to the story so when I finished my 180 degree spin, I contemplated solving the triangular equation before I’d begin, It is my pain that suggests suicide before  I win. I always worked to keep my mind, but god decided to not include me in the general population of mankind.

 

I got my butter from Calcutta without a pot to piss, can’t see me in a decade with a shiny gold wrist then I’ll help you see the future with an optometrist. Spat lines of ill shit with a major lisp, economist had me in the front sea while I sat back with a morphine drip, then I flipped and moderately constricted the script, I wrote this little book and promised my grandma I’d never ever slip, having my family in my heart with keep me from injury during my ego trip.

 

Maniacal motherfucker for goodness sake, I don’t wake and bake, and I hate and fake, like I don’t wake and pop, even with the world spinning around me I’ll never stop.

 

 

 

You can’t put a number next to my name, take a life from my surplus because I live life like a game, KKK stopped us in our car and I swear we never changed lanes, my grandma passed down BDI, Black Determined and Insane, I’m an abomination and a lion so ill slap you even if you think it’ll be easy for me to be tamed. I’m not the warm hearted boy I was raised to be

Leper

I wish I got along with myself better, they called the cops and the bull dropped its charge

 

It was surreal how the shit stayed at large, or how the very sight of bright colors gave me a flashback

 

To a time when I had unflinching hope and my sins could be cleaned with a brush and soap

 

 

 

Simplicity is to complex, my endeavor will have a conclusion like hot sex

 

I was born with a trigger on my back, I moved it to my head, if you come for me make sure I’m dead

 

My philosophy is an archetype, the neo-noir type for the dismal in distress

 

I’m the little bitch in a red dress

 

I have so many good qualities for a cow, my farm is blessed

 

Milk me for thought, slaughter me for a few meals worth of meat, then Temple GRANDIN could be reborn to make my defeat more humane

 

 

 

If this is the end, when did it begin?

 

I sleep all day, its neither work nor play, its suicidal decay

 

I’ve got a lust for redemption, I get hot when I smell blood, I was raised from the mud as a scavenger. I don’t care, ill bite you, I was born to lose, the day I die I’ll win. Maybe that day, happiness will begin

 

I cut myself, spit and write, I’ll ignore umbrage,  your sophisticated words, because I want to fucking fight

 

 

 

Addiction to synesis, philanthropic as the crusades were, compared to my slow burning melancholia. Eat up any road block, to later regurgitate a modern day piece of art, while you fornicate I’ll root for you to precipitate something, because there is riot going on, things are going to fucking explode! So before our hate implodes, we need for you to create offspring.

 

The End is nigh, call up and cry, as all hopes die, apocalypse now, the streets have been stained with blood for so long, vermin are born from mud

For my Grandmother <3

My Grandma taught me everything i know, and one of the things she repeated often was, “Dont Take No shit from nobody.”

 

Painted a lullaby and the child inside wanted to cry, physical description to show how I’ll die, I’ll replace every swear with a bleep, clean up my act and pledge in some prayers that my soul is for god to keep, fake like I’m indebted to religion, indentured to some sort of spiritual beginning. Buts its my Grandma who I’m owing, Edwina the Queen, I’m not going to fake like I have a hard gangster lean, but my family started the new haven scene, it was 1950s, travel back in time to get the definition of mean

 

A Clip of even numbers in my umbrella, alphabet cars painted blue, red, and vanilla, switched from acting hard to a pink hat like DJ Yella, and now I have a hell of a smell, for the misery, and the pain, I threw myself into rehabilitation with nothing to lose and  nothing to gain. I held pictures of my grandma to keep from going completely insane, shot caller in a mental institution sporting a benzodiazepine gleam from a whole different lane, I conquered my demons but I made it look plain.

 

That place erased all restrictions and moral, Desensitized to the violence but I can’t write raps about slinging Cristal , I can only embrace my Grandparents as my two best pals, the hate almost derailed my voyage home and I fucked up the tall roadblocks to the height of a gnome. I think about days sitting in room with blood dripping, I was crying all alone. If you had my genetics or looked through my eyes, why would you worry about dying when you roll the dice, Grandson of a Queen so why would I never not rise, blessed to be able to observe the stars, I can upgrade my home and crash a fast car. Through all my success my Gran will never go too far from my heart, sprinkle cigarette ashes on the daily depart

 

 

 

And with all this debauchery, some of us chose to go on and on about pubescent philosophy

 

And this is the plight of the living dead, verbatim is a death sentence so never quote what I said, now I’m reminiscing about the days when I didn’t have two thousand fans and the potential to publish a revolution right at my hands. Gil Scott Heron would be proud, passed down the asterisk and the slant, Black Panthers are gone but now I’m the man

 

Kool G Rap was on the edge of sanity, and now I sit back judging this calamity, the town is overflowing with drugs and prostitution to bring the grit to reality, calling out losers is just a formality, to win is like spewing debonair profanity and I’m crushing a hyped house of shit and I’m not talking about Amity, disturbing the peace to the metal of the wood and drawers that are shitty, I was bred in the underbelly of a ugly city, I’ve got the lock on the these other skinny cats, can’t touch me or the way I’m shitting facts

 

So fuck copyright, Fuck Rights and Motherfuck the peace, I’m the man behind the book taking a stance. My message contradicts my sickness, decided the winner early to add some speed and art to my hit list, who rhymes like this spitting in tongues with such quickness, I’ll bomb the world with mediocre physical fitness, I got this world on Lockdown and I see the horizon with my grandma as my witness. There were three sides to the story so when I finished my 180 degree spin, I contemplated solving the triangular equation before I’d begin, It is my pain that suggests suicide before  I win. I always worked to keep my mind, but god decided to not include me in the general population of mankind.

 

I got my butter from Calcutta without a pot to piss, can’t see me in a decade with a shiny gold wrist then I’ll help you see the future with an optometrist. Spat lines of ill shit with a major lisp, economist had me in the front sea while I sat back with a morphine drip, then I flipped and moderately constricted the script, I wrote this little book and promised my grandma I’d never ever slip, having my family in my heart with keep me from injury during my ego trip.

 

Maniacal motherfucker for goodness sake, I don’t wake and bake, and I hate and fake, like I don’t wake and pop, even with the world spinning around me I’ll never stop.

 

 

 

You can’t put a number next to my name, take a life from my surplus because I live life like a game, KKK stopped us in our car and I swear we never changed lanes, my grandma passed down BDI, Black Determined and Insane, I’m an abomination and a lion so ill slap you even if you think it’ll be easy for me to be tamed. Motherfuckers live in fairytales, but painkillers are my Aladdin, and I’m a variation you wish you’d never see, I’m not the warm hearted boy I was raised to beImage