Revisions

"You aren't what I expected," she remarked slyly, as she sat there, smoldering. He stood in the doorway, silently, staring.

"You aren't what I expected," she said offhandedly, as she sat there in a pile of her own smoldering feces. He stood there in the doorway, gyrating, gently.

"You aren't what I expected," she exclaimed wide-eyed, as she sat cross-legged, utterly flaming. He stood in the doorway, rapidly fluttering his eyelids.

"You aren't what I expected," she said with her face, as she sat there trying to stand. He sat in the doorway, rapidly sitting in the doorway.

"You aren't what I expect," she said facing him as she stood there, trying to sit. He and the doorway, in an instant, were simultaneously one.

"You aren't, what?" her face cried. She sat there, sitting. He stood there, grinning.

"You aren't," cried her face. He grinned.

Morning Prayer

"Everything's a big joke except for me and what I want"
Desires conflict with preconceived contraceptive methods
And yet, we be giving birth almost constantly
Reaching back or through perhaps
Never quite being fully 'there' or here for that matter
Take time to reflect, merely project
Precocious little ego
Precious little flaws
Special little problems

*Pause*

It's not so bad/It's not that great
It won't be this way forever/It won't stay this way forever
It will get better eventually/It won't last

Give Death a Little Credit, Please

Return to the earth
On the brown side of the grass
While working on the perfect smile
This too shall pass

You don't want it unless you can have it
But you've had it
At times, hated it
At others, lusted after sensations
For the most part, however, it was more or less an alternating binary of confusion and boredom
Regardless, the memory of joy simply doesn't compare
To the reality of sorrow
The memory of pain is simply that, a memory
And the sensation of a loosening grip
Is only acutely displeasing if one is afraid of the consequences of letting go
So let go

If you were to fall from the third floor of a building
The only way to save yourself from certain death
Would be to relax yourself completely
Any tenseness whatsoever would spell your doom
Knowing this, in that instant you would have a choice, albeit a difficult one
You could save yourself if you could find a way to let go of your precious fear
The safety of sadness and self-pity couldn't save you
The choice would be up to you, in a split second
The choice would be yours

To pass your weapon to the left
Kick the barn door closed
Forever, until whenever
Or transcend whatever
It would be possible
Techincally, probable (to a slight degree)

Truth is, no one really knows what they would do unless they are put in a situation like that
But when we do, it will be real
One day we all will face ourselves--our minds, our maker
Everything we've set aside for later; everything we could have done better, could have put more effort into but wouldn't be troubled with at the time
It will all come eventually, and that too shall pass

This, I'm sure of
What it will sound like, smell like, feel like, mean, seem, or lead to, that I have no idea
But it will be real
And that's really all anyone has ever wanted
And that's really all that really matters

PRONE TO STANK

PRONE TO STANK
a poem.

if i had one wish
id wish for more wishes
then take out a loan
and patronize a mortician
to exercise my stank body of a bonerless corpse, of course
and my breath stinks
and i can't breathe
and i can't seem
to get a handle on all these bad dreams and things

don't just do something, stand there
and seem to be something
seemingly, i couldn't even imagine
behaving in such a fashion
dreadful, really
to postpone ones inevitable downfall
i mean brownfall
crowned balls wear the hairy crown
that smell like the last pair of balls that wore it
a diamond-encrusted spire got caught in the sack
and tore it

'bring me back to life', he said
'i can't. i've never done anything like this before.'
'it's easy, just live my life for me. breathe with my lungs, walk with my legs. finish my story, it's yours now.'
'i just can't', she pretended to sob. 'i just don't want to.'
he frowned. i mean he browned. heavy are the balls that wear the crown.

pizza, bring me back to life

pizza, bring me back to life
as i hang me in my quiet place
my happy space, where i am warm and tired
and i truly haven't a fuck to give

melting into sofas
it doesnt matter what color
or who paid for them

glistening, when i close my eyes
it doesnt make a difference what i really look like

i wish you could be more supportive
but i feel like this is something most people go through
i feel like i feel this way more and more often these days
i feel like my parents and teachers would say that this is a good thing

i'm not so sure

Car Commercial Music and Young Bro's Bio

This is a nice song from a car commercial.



Not sure if I want to choose between a teal or beige GMC Terrain or eat a fistful on dirt while spinning in circles with my underwear around my ankles. Just kidding, those weren't real thoughts. Just contemplating the nuanced relationship between art and advertising in the information age or something.

...

This week's Spotlight Artist of the Year and winner of the GMC Terrain Lifetime Achievement Award, fellow MYSPACE artist 'Young Bro'. He plays shows in parks and overcomes life's obstacles.

http://www.myspace.com/abcyoungbro

>>Young Bro's BIO(taken from his myspace)
"Young Bro" was born and raised in Dallas, Texas. He was the middle child of 6 siblings, 2 giving up for adoption and 1 from a different mother. Growing up in the streets of Oak Cliff, life was a struggle for him and his family. It's very common for young males in the streets of Oak Cliff to become victims of the streets. Drugs and violet crimes were a day to day thing. With his dad being in and out of jail, and his mother forced to be a single mother, Young Bro was determined to do what he had to do to better his life.

Growing up he wanted to play basketball. He would go down to the park almost every day and write rhymes on the side. He soon began to grow a passion for writing lyrics. At the age of 12 he started to write lyrics to instrumentals and made at least one song each night.

He then realized that this was what he was meant to do. He later told His brother (Texuz Boy) and his two cousins (J Cash & Young Flow) about it, and the four decided to start a group they named ABC Act Badd Click, a name given to them from when they where growing up. They soon changed the name to ABC All Bout Cash. This was only the beginning for Young Bro

With the help of J Gonzo, All Bout Cash recorded a song called, "Down Here". The song was Performed at the 2006 Latin Energy Fest in Fair Park. The group had their first big gig. Performing in front of a large crowd. Their performance was a success. People all over Dallas started recognizing their music, and things seemed as if they were only going to progress from there.

In August 2006 Young Bro and his girlfriend, Ellie became parents at a very young age, with his daughter born 23 weeks premature, he found himself facing some harsh realities of life. Fighting for the life of his daughter, he became a devoted father on his grind for his family. He is very proud to say his daughter is now three and very healthy.

The Group ABC added two new members cousin (Lil Moe) and close friend (Trigga Rick). People began to notice their music more and weekend began to get booked with performances. Life for ABC became busy if not in the studio they were out in a gig. Although every thing seemed as if it were going good the group slowly began going their separate ways and Young Bro became a solo artist destined to soon make his own mark in the world of music.

Young Bro has just finish his Mix-Tape, “Ride Solo, Die Solo” and it will be for sell soon. The Mix-Tape has a little bit of everything. It also included a lot of his life experience in his music. He not only writes his own music, He produces it also. So If you are interested in buying his Mix-Tape or booking him for a up coming show you can reach him at YUNGBRO214@YAHOO.COM or

Throughout all the struggles and hard time Young Bro has learn never to give up. When one door closes another one will open. He says, “Its has all been worth it, and has made me the strong person I am today”.

sup dog (foreveR)

believe in yourself and shoot for the stars
you're great
you are as cool as your coolest thoughts/feelings
on whatever subject comes to mind
i feel like you probably think about way cooler things than I do

the first time I saw you, I said to myself
"He/she is so hot and majorly cool. (S)he'd never want to talk to me."
And you didn't, because you're that cool
I had to bribe you with treats
(via crackers and snacks)
and then we became friends
now we run an orphanage for foster parents
it's a big waste of time, but i feel pretty good about it

Sup dog, forever

You're my #1. See you in heaven (not hell)

*****************************************************************

father figures

in the wet, wild thicket of thickness
a bald skull gleams
and she sheds a tear
buries her life inside his yellow crust
and a mistake is made
in vain

'this is what makes me different:
I ain't like them other girls
I'm fun, outgoing, I like to party..."
i aint no farmer's daughter, i'm a brand name bitch

hark
evil lurks
krah
skrul live
backmasking is the devil's last refuge
lil' bitch
the ultimate foil

'i see the beast in all my father figures
i seek his warm, hot blood
his cool, smooth way
his steadfast gaze'
the girl's got to have it

a sharp crash, a clean break
cold shudders multiply
shards spread, all erections within a 30 mile radius abruptly cease
tiny pieces 'go out' in precisely different directions, all the time
in their own way, the only way it could be

she flinches/he winces. it's over.
a void emerges, soon to be filled
and removed, perpetually

she is pure
she is a dignified vessel
a beacon of virtue
a light seen from the sea on a dark gray night

she is too human
typically fickle to a fault
a dirty rotten poop of a bitch
that stinks to high heaven

voices interject:
they suggest we project
she's just a girl
nothing more
nothing less

morning prayer

In a cabin
in the woods
in the hills
taking pills

with a long
wooden cane
poking holes
making stains

standing up
sitting down
staring straight
looking round

at the walls
of this room
in the midst
of ein tomb

feelings are just feelers, feeling out a niche
don't give in, there's nothing in it for you
don't give in, there's nothing in it for you

catharsis is a well cultivated myth
there's no direct advantage to screaming at the top of your lungs
there's no direct advantage to screaming at the top of your lungs

acting on emotions is a lifestyle that has been handed down to you from pop culture
no one has to see you do anything to make it worth while
no one has to see you do anything to make it worth while

these people aren't your friends, they're good-time vultures
have some dignity and control yourself
have some dignity and control yourself
control yourself control yourself control yourself control yourself control yourself control yourself control yourself control yourself control yourself control yourself
yourself yourself yourself yourself yourself yourself yourself yourselfyourselfyourselfyourselfyourselfyourselfyourselfyourselfyourself