Funk-A-Licious

Funk a licious, dunk attricious, where you buy those pants at, cause they malicious?

The colours don't mesh, just like our schedules, I'll prolly never see you again because you're visually illegible.

Like a vampires reflection, invisible to detection, like the nervous stuttering kid at the spelling bee might be needing correction, corrective lenses, pre tense programs with an intense lack of friendes.

Aye-aye there chiefy, seems to be quite leafy in this spot that the rot has begun to become beefy.

Unlike those vegetarians who claims that fish aren't meat, there seems to be a problem with that statement they seat, in the back of your mind.


Trying to trick the establishment into establishing a new rule, where anything with feet is meat and those that swim are considered cool to eat.

Off topic, sub tropic, snowing where the air is stereoscopic.

3D tvs wont work inside the sea, or anywhere that's wet for that matter can't you see.

But real life works whether swimming or not, whether dimming or trimming or even spinning on spot.

Sometimes I say stuff, and it makes no sense, but it's fodder so why bother, even trying to fence, off what I'm saying, kinda like saying off with my head.

As it be rolling, you be trolling, about to climb outta bed. I'll prolly be climbing in, to my mattress of leaves instead, of material istic, is it, or is it isms?

I can never remember, ballistic-cali-schism, that's a password I wrote, to a place that don't exist, so why did I use the blade to carve into my wrist?

Just kidding, their ain't no carvings, my arms no a jack o lantern. Plus I could never back space if I messed up where the plan turned.

Wholly moley, what a foley I made and when I made it I made it solely, at the discretion of the goalie who scored the shot across the ice but super slowly.

Puck driven, muck given never had a smuck briven. What ever that is, I never had it, so am I liven?

Gonna end, so pretend, you care, and then befriend, a stranger at the place your going to before the weekend.

thanks

Thanks for nothing, thanks for everything you didn't ever do, didn't try, didn't care, got by by being unfair, over here, over there, everywhere, where's where?

I don't care, and my words will display, the discord I never felt from all the projected dismay.

Now I'm moving on, what's next, where will I end up?

What do you care, with your shish hair, and your jellied fliff flup.

That's right you got some features that be a needing new names, Like Lou Garret had that thing that made him uncanny in ways.

Like a ruffian hoodlum, you always seem to be, not worrying about anyone else, but you only considering ye.

Like an apple that's gone rotten, taking others to the grave, cause you were useless, and ruthless in the kind of talentless way.

You smile is vile, your teeth are all black, their rotten, soft as cotton, and your breaths smelling bad.

So what do I care if you never ever reconsider, consider sitting with the sitter you gonna tell me I'm bitter?

Just think of my words as litter, spewing out from my brains, they have no meaning till you add it,  does that make it inane?

What does it matter without matter, without me, not to be flattered, considering the latter to be as if it's kinda batter, that you coat your emotional state with while you go on getting fatter.

Time riding, laden with lying, wasting money, don't need buying, get your things together before you crying, it's too late, you have been flying, now your older, more brittle in your ways, and fiddling days, almost gone, and filled with haze.

All your hairs turned into greys, all those memories have erased, like a blank slate you be in a stank state for days.

So what do I care once again I ask, you need me more than I you. But you've forgotten that since the last time that I told you, but much time has passed.

Thanks for nothing, spanking muffins, cranking stuffing just to say, painting the picture that I wish to display.

Today's the day

Today is the day, just like others before it, has an equal opportunity for me to adore it;
What memories today will I create, for the synapses in my brain to clearly state;
Established thoughts, bewildered imagery, contextual alignment, deciphered semantically.

What makes this day different from any other, I ask?
Is it the fact I've changed up the tasks?
Or could it be this is my day to finally relax?

Unknown to me, what will unfold;
I keep my eyes peeled, and do what I'm told;
By the thoughts in my head, some could say it's my voice;
But don't tell them that, as their ideologies rejoice;
Attempt to bolster my ingenuity, stopping my fluidity.

Keep my being well, and just over the under toe that's meant to be there to keep you down low;
Last thing we want, is for all of you to know; 
By we, I mean me, don't know why I include;
Others that aren't present, presently is that rude?

What should it matter, This here is my thought;
The process that brought me here, kept me from what you got;
And if you're reading this, then you've played into my game;
This is my road, I'm paving to fame;
This is my picture, I've painted to frame;
This is my normality, to you it's insane.

Today's another day, here right now, but later gone;
Tomorrow may not exist, but as long as the sun has shone, and the moon makes it's revolution;
I think we'll be alright, cause right after today, we'll be entering tonight.

As the sun is leaving, setting beyond what we can see, it'll rise on the other side;
Waking them eventually;
So that being said, it's always a new day somewhere;
If not here, than it will be over there.

What memories will they have, what will make today special for them?
What will they be doing, for their dendrites to be stemming?
For their neurons to be buzzing, for their thoughts to be blitzing;
It may not be particularly glamorously glitzing.

Either way, today's the day.
What things will you do;
What words will you say?

ObiWan digi-painting

Hitler Tank(older needed some place to put it)

Pleasure of the Visit

Sitting in a waiting room, overhearing bits of convo;
smells a plenty in this shanty, people going gonzo.

Take a number, then please sit, like that lady at the desk actually gives a shit;
kids there messed up, parents there is more so;
there happens to be a person in a wheel chair looking like just a torso.

The buzzer rings, a new number gets called, when it's not their number, moods become appauld.
Everybody gets a number, then they call you in twice, once to verify your info, second time ain't not so nice.

A clickity clack, whizzity furl, whizo;
That's the sound of the machine that prints out printouts with yours, and other peoples bizzo.

Pee in this cup, sit still and gimme your blood;
That happens to be their job, and the request, and it may sound odd.

When it's all said and done, they do their best to usher you off;
Then they deal with the rest, unless that is you got a new cough.

I just touched my eyeball, now I'm seeing various tingles;
Two weeks from now I hope I don't end up with shingles.

I can't wait to get their call, I hope there's a walk-in valet;
Please don't look at me weird, just because of somethings that I say.

There's a dude there in the hall, talking loudly, his voice sounds like he's into boys;
But he claims he's there for a horse, who's mouth his wiener did destroy.

What'd I tell you, messed up, just like a toilet seat warmer;
Sitting in an outhouse in the middle of the summer.

That don't make no darn sense, this is the kinda shit that makes dollars;
Now if only I incorporated a beat, snare drums, and a wild holler.

I could transcend all my thoughts, and emotions from this paper, to the screen;
Then it would go into your mind, and you could envision what I've seen.

If you will, please remain seated, and please for the sake of your friends;
Try not to imitate me, cause my thoughts come out not making sense.

You may find this kind of shiza mildly mindless, and uproaring;
Like a lion waking up, after a long night of snoring, after wasting a gazelle;

Waking up to her dead face, last night his teeth he'd sunk;
in her skin to get a taste, of her tasty gazelle meat, but he leaves her sweaty feet.

Short poetix

Hubba bubba digeree doo, I can hear humming noises, how about you?

Heebie jeebie snifery snarf, if you go slay a dragon will you make me a scarf?

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Never do it for just for the money, do it for the love of doing it, the soon you know what it is you

love, the sooner you should start pursuing it.


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Everyone who is or wants to be, will eventually realize, that everyone who was or will eventually be,

had learned this lesson eventually.


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Perfectly perfect isn't perfect at all, it's perfect at covering faults and flaws, cause anything perfect

had to make mistakes, then keep moving forward for perfectness sake.

- Landon Crosby