Wild Card

You know that feeling you get when you take a gamble and win,
That same feeling making tingles, before the rush starts to begin,
The excitement that enthralls, overcomes and then befalls,
It's when your heart begins to flutter then it skips and it stalls.

That existential exuberance,
Inflates you till you're feeling tense,
Egotistically ballistic and manically optimistic,
Stereoscopic material building insatiable cravings for endless variables;

Leaving no room for error though,
Eliminating all doubt,
Taking over your brain waves,
Pushing negativity out;

Saying no isn't an option,
Or in the least quite hard,
That urge you feel, it's very real,
That's me, I'm the wild card;

I'm what you been missing,
All this time in your life,
The thing that you been looking for,
The cure for your strife;

I'm right here, and you are there,
Here's the rules,
So it's fair and square,
Gimme your money and I'll keep it coming;

The feeling that you seek,
I'll speak it in literary tense,
You can read it tongue and cheek,
Or if required verbally, I'll read it once a week;

Guided by blindness

There's a voice in my head,
It sometimes confuses me,
Tells me to say things,
Or do things, but truthfully;

I'm not sure if it is mine,
I can choose to ignore it,
Free choice is opportunity,
Decisions can be abhorrent;

So far it's led me here,
The darkness becomes clear,
Days are getting longer,
As is my growing hair;

When I go make bad decisions,
Often leading me astray,
I listen to this voice again,
It guides me back, but I don't stay;

I seem to have this problem,
As I'm unable to cope,
With rational existence,
And I think it's mine, I hope;

As the forces in my mind,
Constantly they battle,
One fights for right now,
The other for tomorrow;

Procrastination is the game,
Been a victim, and a player,
Seen the outcome, and the hand dealt,
Turned a quick task to all dayer;

Learned to listen,
Control the outcome,
Make my mission,
Remove the doubt from;

Let the inner voice lead,
Ignoring blindness,
Using just thoughts,
Perfectly Time this.

Stark Raving

I be stark raving mad when I jumped so high I hit the ceiling, Like a bark making proud the tree that grew the rough protrusion, on the outside of the skin, reflections looking in. What is it you see when you look on a whim.



Is it me that I see when the feelings inverted, kinda like sugar cane no candy cane, just blurt it. Minty whips kicking doing flips like a ninja hopping round about to get licked, like a lolly pop play ground, about to get dropped, sand dune castle made inside an hour glass. Hand made tassels, probably never last.

Like the ribbon you don't get when you come in eleventh in a race, or the congratulations you miss cause you in the wrong place. The hooray, and applause from almost making it to space, from a couple caged monkeys with gnats on their face.

What good is a balloon if its only made to pop, what good is glass when it always gets dropped. Eventually everything will be broken and shattered, like Shatner's career, who can blame him for getting badder?

Is that even a word, or am I making stuffs up now? who the hell cares this is my place to throw up, sow... I take verbiage and spin it any way that I want, and when you come here to read it, you only think that I thought, that you think that I think that it matters at all?

Well it doesn't, in the end it's really quite small...

Mad At The World

I'm mad at the world because it's keeping me down, no not the gravity there from spinning round and around. Things are constantly taking a turn for a shitty, why can't life be wonderful, why do I stay in this city?

I'm coming to the conclusion that the ones who got it good are also the same ones who did what ever they could. As I try to do the same my life gets more so inane, as further forward I push and I keep expecting the train to come and get me. Save my life, take me off of these tracks, and it won't because it can't, because it never looks back.

I seem to be the one here fallen off of my path, keep on wandering further, until I add up the math, at this point one and one don't seem to add up to two. So I speak with other wanderers encountered inside of this zoo, they tell me over and over that I'll eventually find what it is that I'm after if I keep on the grind.

Grind it up, like the beans going into the cup, percolated, then demonstrated. My perpetration is up, like the leaves in the wind, I be flying on a whim. Years ago before the fall I used to live on a limb.

Now like a stab in the dark, I'm just that kind of crass, a haphazardous approach to falling flat on my ass. Like a blanket that's wet, I'm feeling heavier than I should, like I said a moment ago I feel grounded below, if I could I'd be flying high, but I'm not, no I'm stuck in this rut, left to rot like I died on the spot, and I'm looking out, living out moments of time.

The sadness always leading me to a state of frustration is the fact that I can't seem to avoid all of this  constant confrontation with myself, inside my head, during this juggling act, the one I do where the things I'm tossing always end up coming back, biting me in the ass, taking me down the wrong roads.

Tricking my mind to make me think that I'm about to expose the next chapter in my life that will eventually lead to the close, to happily ever after that never seems to exist. So I wonder and ponder why is it me the world's dissed?

At this time now I would like to conclude, that the my time on this earth has left me feeling proverbially screwed. I want to stop this constant cycle that tears at my inner being, being as I'm suppose to be able to, what is it I'm not seeing? What is it that I have seemed to have forgotten? Is it someone, or is it something that with money can be boughten? Is it some kind of relic that if I had broughten with me on my travels, treasure would easily be gotten?

What I do know is I don't know, and I can't know or I won't, so therefore is it the world that I'm mad at, or a reflection of me that I see in the world that makes me disagree?

When a brainstorm rains

Chaka Mushaka went out to get some baka, but what he got instead was a case of the runny cacas;
Roony toony, jumping dragoony watch out for that spill before you become a bafoony;
Smack yo head, would you be dead? Depends on how hard you hit the bed;
Bed of rocks, bedrock, or dirty socks, either way the situation sucks like wooden blocks.

Now hows he gonna wipe when ain't nothing round to do it;
How you gonna prove that the apex is congruent?
What you gonna use to clean the blood from yo cruddy duds?
The same thing that they use to clean the floor with bubbly suds.

You can't get drunk from drinking soap, and you can't get high from firework smoke;
Don't try, you'll die, and the people will cry;
Like the time that cat got sand in it's eye;
Meowing all night, till the dog's bark on;

Then you try to drown it out while the night turns to dawn;
Cover your head with feathers from a bunch of baby ducks, in a sac on your bed;
Sounds a little nucking fricken fraggen futs;
But what do I know about it, cause I do the same thing, sept I cover the feathers with my head and a blanket covers me, whilst I lay in my bed, Inside my house that's right beside a tree.

And night turns into day, and I leave eventually;
As I watch out for the puddle, the one thats eight feet deep;
It's right beside the nether realm that's hiding like a creep;
Like a vine slowly growing, wrapping around as it's snowing;

Is that ashes, or dust that's falling;
Where are the stars that be calling;
Out my name, like the name game;
The one with the fella bo bella;

Ip sip quip lip;
Ships a gonna tell ya;
As it sails away into the sun;
Would it eventually melt? or is it just gone?

Velvetta, queso con quetta;
Cheesy line from rhyme time;
As far as I con-seeda;
If I can stop, I'll try to drop, the message here is don't drink pop, or soap, or hope to get high on smoke from poison gas and allotrope, or you transcend to another place, whether here or there or outer space.

Work Week

This week I worked a lot;
 last week not nearly as much;
Some people complain about working too often;
 others that their work often sucks.

Having two jobs is like riding two horses;
 can't tell which one is the faster;
Till one rears back and kicks you off;
It'll begin to be quite a disaster.

I worked as much in one week, as others work in two;
But till this day there's barely pay as I spent it before I was through;
My credit cards are maxed out, there's payments out the wazoo;
I just got approved for another one, oh golly what should I do?

I'm thinking of taking a vacation, my mind has already split;
So should I pack, or just hang back, and wait for my body to quit?
I don't think it's gonna happen, at least not for a while;
The last time it did, I was a kid, afraid of crocodiles.

Working kinda stinks, Why can't I get paid to do nothing?
I guess its cause that wouldn't make sense, and so I'm forced to be constantly roughing;
By that I mean doing the gritty, the things other people cannot;
Or possible won't because they just don't, and that's that, so I'm in a though spot.

I need like a billion dollars, a millions simply not enough;
There's a chance I could spend it too easy, pretend that I would buy a castle, and stuff;
I'd probably buy a Ferrari, a Lambo and even a Plane;
A helicopter hummer, damn wouldn't that be insane.

There's a reason shit in life costs money;
Cause if not we'd all be dumb;
Dumber than we are, cause we all can't be stars;
And some of us would end up so numb.

So tomorrow I go back to work;
Another seven day work week again;
Hang my head up high as I work till I die;
Why must I constantly expend?

All real no lies

 Oh yeah, uh huh, this is just me letting go of everything, breaking it down.
 You see...

This the type of thing I do, I like to write here, at times it feels so true.
This is where my filter gets turned down or even off oftenly, as the world turns like tornados,
as my thoughts swirl they get softer see.

It gets me alright, not the way that you make me feel girl, that's just tight.
But I got no qualm, even though like a palm life can be rough, that's not all.
I'm living right now, for tonight now, is that so wrong, the short sight now?

I don't think so, so I drink mo, couple more drinks till I feel slow, then I'm gone.
Bringing with me the mind bomb, it obliterates my thoughts, then everything's together,
if just for a second, then it's not.

Explosions of explicit images become deficient, till they relax like I'm fishing.
Tryna catch that golden vision, gonna get that, it's my mission.
Like I was born, to be dishing, out the same thing, you be wishing.

Lyrically it's a rainbow of extrusions that I start slow, then it speeds up in the spectrum, getting louder in your eardrum, till I funk off then you left like, you a soldier who's been dropped right,
in the action, but you don't know, that your friendlies are not there though.

There's a cavern in the back of, where your skull is, so I stack up, all the boxes that can sit there, full of things, I really don't care. If you open or destroy them, then I got more then, some are foreign, and some are for rent. Wanna buy some?, it's a store then for extorting.

Here I come with them back taxes, like a rhino on a mattress, gonna sink in but I can't see, cause past my nose, Big and horny. Keep a blanket in the attic, just in case, I'm up and at it. See my progress, where it came from, are you hungry? come and get some.

Spin around like a 360, when your return, what do you see? is it here now? was it there though? starting to get kinda scared yo. Cause I can't sit in one space and all my thoughts are all misplaced, and all my fans are non existent, not that they have bad intentions.

Just that they have, yet to find me, once they do though, they will bind me, with their feelings, common places, it's pretentious so I fake it. Tell myself that I am like them, but the truth is what's inside them, makes us different but you can't see, either way it's kinda risky.

Never know how I should end it, always better at pretending, the beginning is what started, all of this now, it retarded. Which is to say that its much slower, like using scissors as a lawn mower. So I will end it abruptly like I drop dead, drinking buckleys.

Taste like shit, but it works...