"i have my BOOKS........and poetry to protect me......SHIELDED in my armour i hide inside my room safe within my womb i touch nobody and noone touches me..........I am a rock....I am an island......and a rock feels no pain and an island never cries"
Jimmy Dean, he smokes his own sausage, thats one tough son of a bitch..... The Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past From the Future
"in mike fights i swing swords and cut clowns the shit is too swift to bite and record and write it down...i flow like the blood on a murder scene like a siringe on some wild out shit to insert a fiend......but it was your shop stolen art that kept your swollen heart from not going smart.....i put mad pressure ....i'm phoney like rhymes are getting hurt shits played like ______......thats minimum and femanine like sandles... my minimum tables stacks i verge on a gamble......energy is felt once the call is delt with the impact of roundhouse kicks from black belts that attack the mike-phones like cyclones a typhoon i represent from midnight to high noon i don't waste ....hey nigga i think, i drop mega-ton bombs more faster than you blink cause rhyme thoughts travel at a tremendous speed from clouds of smoke of natural blends of weed.......only under one circumstance is if i'm blunted turn that shit up my clan in the front want it" "hold your hand out you silly girl..... look what you done, when you find youself in the thick of it, help yourself to a bit of what is all around you....you silly girl....take a good look around you......" ghost of Belle Starr she hands down her wits To Jezebel the nun she violently knits A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits At the head of the chamber of commerce, Now I wish I could write you a melody so plain That could hold you dear lady from going insane That could ease you and cool you and cease the pain Of your useless and pointless knowledge Forgot my woman, lost my friend Things I'd done and where I've been... Sleep in sweat the mirrors cold See my face it's growin' old... Scared to death no reason why Do whatever to get me by, Think about the things I said Read the page it's cold and dead..... Take me home Come on, seein' what's at stake Action for reaction If your mind's in a somewhat complacent state Get a check up This is a stick up Our freedom or your life "in a little hilltop village they gambled for my clothes I bargained for salvation and they gave me a lethal dose I offered up my innocence and got repaid with scorn. Come in, she said, I'll give you shelter from the storm". "but it motherfuckin makes me try, Makes my try and that ain't no wrong, i'll tell you why. There ain't no right"
"when somebody talks to me like that, it kinda makes me want to resist a little more I know that i'm not as pretty as a pair of titties
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come on we should go see him, this old guy is a kick in the ass, 50 years old, he sits around in his shorts and underwear drinking wine out of his chipped white cup.he sits with the shades pulled down and hes never owned a tv set. the only time he goes out is for more wine or to the race track in his baby blue'58 comet. some woman has always left forever and he pretends to play it with bravado but his little slit eyes are filled with pain. he'll pour drinks all around, he just gulps the crap down and then sometimes he'll get up and puke. it's really something. you can hear him for blocks" there was something about the city though: it didn't let me feel guilty that i had no feelings for the things so many others needed. it let me alone. sitting up in my bed the lights out, hearing the outside sounds, lifting my cheap bottle of wine, letting the warmth of the grape enter me as i heard the rats moving about the room, i preferred them to humans. being lost, being crazy maybe is not so bad if you can be that way: undisturbed "Drunk and writing poems at 3 a.m. what counts now is one more tight pussy before the light tilts out. some people tell me that i'm famous. what am i doing writing poems at 3:18 a.m.? i'm as crazy as i ever was they don't understand that i haven't stopped hanging out of 4th floor windows by my heels- i still do now, writing this down i am hanging by my heels floors up:68, 72, 101 the feeling is the same: relentless unheroic and necessary. sitting here drunk and writing poems at 3:24 a.m. "since i had peeped over the edge myself, i understood better the meaningof his stare, that could not see the flame of the candle, but was wide enough to embrace the whole universe..."
i just came in to find that sad look upon your face "We've no use for intellectuals in this outfit. What we need is chimpanzees. Let me give you a word of advice: never say a word to us about being intelligent. We will think for you, my friend. Don't forget it." "in a world like this and with such compainions as these how can we not be restricted by things without us" Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards. "you'd be suprised how little i knew, even up to yesterday"