Ques?ion

I found happiness
In a pair of oxfords.

Two small,
Pointed toe
Oxfords.

Each stride dignified,
Deliberate,
Distinguished.

Each step
Clicked.
Each step
Clinched
My breath.

Ablaze,
On fire,
A fierce path led
Me

Found me,
Drowned me
In all
I’ve ever wanted.

Call it infatuation

I’ll agree.

What is stagnant?
I don’t remember.

All I remember
Is Click
Click
CLIck
CLICk
CLICK.

My soul
Her soles stole
And held me still.

Caught up in motion
Avoiding stillness
I forgot what stillness meant.

Bury her,
Sorrow that is,
In the dust kicked up
By the click
Click
Click.

We walk,
We stand still,
We move foreward
As if we were running all the same.

I used to run away,
Then run back.

Now I run away,
So I can run back.

I finally found
What I was looking for,
Where I never looked
Before.

Fast or slow I know
That a click
Has never meant more

Than it does now.

Once
I listened to myself talk.
Thank God it’s not my job.

I’ve never,
Or,
I never listen to myself.
It’s an expensive thing.

It’s vague,
A little too vague.
It’s misguided,
A little too misguided.

Miss. Guide me,
I don’t remember where I
get off.

In my memory,
It happened too long ago,
I remember learning of
Value.

Morals quarrel
When I speak,
So I talk because

Orally I am wisdom
But talk is better than
Speak.

Reflect,
Like a mirror,
Or a reflector.

My mirror image
Is funny. Exceptionally
Comedic, but only when
I imagine.

It’s a problem when I walk.
My mouth hates me.
It doesn’t stop
Even when it should.

Do good!
Do good I say!
I say do good
Because,
Don’t be bad!
God is good!

Be godly,
For once.
Be Godlike,
Do good!

Once,
I listened to myself talk.
Until I speak
Talk is cheap.

But I was

too

lazy to
write
it.

I can't sleep.
I've been staring at this screen
for more than
14 hours.

that's much longer than
half a day.
making the day
seem shorter.

I've blinked
259000 times
Which means I've winked,
if you divide those up,
more than 259000 times.

But when I blink again
I will be winking
my 259000

time

is moving that slowely.
Don't stop the clock.
It's not crunch time,
yet.

If I had a book
The face of the book
Would have no face
At all.

It would have words.
No names. Just
Words.

Words that are just.
Words that are strong.
Words that are weak.
Words that would say,

This guy loved himself.

I think that would be the title.
This guy loved himself.
Because this guy loves himself.
Because if this guy didn’t love himself,

Why would anyone else?

If I had a book
The face of the book
Would have no face
At all.

Turn off your tube,
X the videos,
And get past the face
Of the book.

Find your space,
No distractions.
No flikring
Or twittering.

Turn down your tunes,
And explore the word.
Excel on the front page,
With powerful points.

But don’t dwell on the office,
Postpone them and paint.
Frequent photos, and shops
And make movies through windows.

Bite into a mackintosh,
For a book needs flavour,
And without flavour
Words are just words.

If I had a book
The face of the book
Would have no face
At all.

Keep droppin them guns down the well.
I’m dead
Serious.

Let the mutants rise against
The guard
Dogs.

Soon the push of death
Wow this bitch needs to shut the fuk up
She always needs to fucking say something

Don’t try and be cute
You’re fucking lucky I’m faded,
Otherwise I’d say something useful
And shut you up myself.

Flashes of violence
And torture
Fly through
My
Brain.

What
The
Fuck
Is poetry?

I can’t
Figure out why
You’re talking about peace.

Don’t
Stop it
While it’s in motion

It’s a push
It is the push
Of mental discourse

I woke up from a sleepless sleep,
Awake the whole time,
Mumbling something I couldn’t
Understand.

Wakeful still,
I wandered.
My house isn’t big,
But I was lost.

Is that a hallway?
Or a doorway?
Either way,
Which way do I go?

Does that door lock?
Is the lock locked?
Can I get out?
Or do I just wait again?

These stairs never end.
They aren’t big stairs,
They just never end.
But they must.

The warmth of my bed
The comfort of my bed
They’re at the top of this.
But that’s unimportant.

I sleep sleepless,
In my cold basement,
Making love to words
And the sweet sound of smiles.

Look! A problem,
Get under it.
It’s easier than over it,
But you’ll never get past.

Climb the stairs, J.
But I love her.
So?
But she loves him.
So?
Climb the stairs, J.
But I don’t want to leave her.
So?
I’m under it, she’s over me.

Dammit man, get yourself together.
Then climb the stairs.
Get over, not under
And it won’t be over you.

That’s stupid,
You’re stupid.
Once I’m over it,
I’m uninspired.

Is this what it’s about?
No, you fucking idiot.
Yes, you fucking idiot.
I don’t know I fucking idiot.

Just go upstairs
I’ll meet you there.
You’re already here.
So it appears.

Hip hop is from the heart.
Hip - Hop is from the heart.
Hip is from the heart
Hip is from the heart
Hop is from the heart
hop is from the heart.
Hip - Hop is from the heart.
Hip hop is from the heart/
Hip hop is not in your ears
hip hop is not from your ears
hip ears?
hop ears?
Hip ears
hip ears
hop ears
hop ears
hip hop ears?
Hip hop is not from your ears.

Hip hop is bombing
emceeing,
scratching,
break dancing,
and beat boxing.
Those are the five pillars,
the tenets,
the choice of strength
or way of life
and it's not through the ears,
and even still
the pillars are not hip hop themselves.

Hip hop is from the heart.
Hip hop is not a visual,
you can see hip hop
you can hear hip hop
but hip hop is not from the eyes,
hip hop is not from the eyes,
hip hop is not from the eyes,
hip hop is from the heart.

Monopolize the industry
Wrap it up in chains,
return the fucking culture
To the pit from whence it came,

The mono-tone-Police stop in the dust and try
to stop it.

Hey now, this is my monopoly,
mother fucker,
It's been 3 fucking hours
and we're not even close
to finishing the stupid game.


And has anyone realized that we're encouraging gentrification?

W/e, I'm not making a difference.
If only the bank would stop fucking my income,
maybe if I could get the FUCK off baltic.

and maybe then I could take the railway and NOT
get sent to jail.

This isn't a fucking game,
This is a fucking genocide.

Good thing I own
and run,
the utilities,
They get rid of me and they're screwed.

Chill,
it's just a game.

most of the shit i've written has been composed of large words and oddly formatted stanzas,
most of the shit i've written revolves around my own pathetic self-pity,
Most of the shit i've written is stream of consciousy and shit like that but really,

who thinks,
like,
this?

on this day, i dont. fuckit, i dont even capitalize where i need to
or use fancy words to make a fancy stanza that even i dont fucking understand with hopes that the readers will find something deep about it.
on this day i just dont give a shit because there is not enough time to make it pretty.

aisle write it in a fucking paragraph if necessary
but since its not i wont.
fuck punctuation too. really though

anyway im not going to be profound, im not going to be nice, and im not going to be quaint
because that has never been my style and i never want it to be.

i digress
theres way too much shit that i need to worry about that i dont need to worry about that im worrying about
i really do hope you followed through that thought with me because i sure as hell did.

what i mean is, im remembering past times when i've been deeply embarrassed, both private and public
and its giving me that rush that you get when, even though the moment has passed you're still blushing.

what the fuck am i talking about? im a dork and thats all i have to say

FML