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The man said freestyle,
ReplyDeletebut we had no street and no corner,
empty boots with no socks and no beatbox,
hollow bones with no brains;
sackless wonders, leaking talent and
waiting for skirts.
then years passed
in the race of the egg timer
against avalanches of boredom
and we aged smoothly, politicians of the flesh
on a ride to rejuvenation through lies and vulva
Before the end,
we wrote our confessions
on thick pages.
Nobody would say that we had a napkin life.
Chop Foot Blues
ReplyDelete(for Seann)
Friend of mine
Had the chop foot blues
Dey cut of his toes
He need dem special shoes
Don’t want the chop foot blues, no no
Don’t get the chop foot blues
You wanna run away
From dose chop foot blues
But dem bones grew back
Pokin’ outta his skin
Hoit like crazy
Dey do the chop-foot agin
They chop mo’ of da foot oh yeah
He got the chop foot blues
You wanna hop away
From dose chop foot blues
He be livin’ his life
Woikin’ at da museum
And one day dose bones
Gonna poke out agin
Don’t want the chop foot blues, no no
Don’t need the chop foot blues
You wanna limp away
From dose chop foot blues
So til da bones poke out
He gonna do his thing
Writin’ and drawin’
Chop foot blues he sing
Don’t want the chop foot blues no no
Say no to chop foot blues
You want to crawl away
From dose chop foot blues
Cryptic and scary, in that order
ReplyDeleteagreeing to be wary
aggrieving to even try
solo in Show-Lo
waiting for a fire
on a cold desert moon
waiting for a light in the sky
just bubble of heat
to light,
my anger fuel