disillusioned steps around college campuses

Max Julien

midnight park benches wet with dew and cum from runaways who found a friend
sat there trying to find the right thing to pretend to be and decided it would be easier to ask questions hoping she decides to at least undo a button
what's your favorite flavor of ice cream? who do you think is going to win the election? will you be the one to save me?
his subtle intention to see if she shaves her pubic hair has been forgotten ever since he thought he saw momma walk by
now her breasts is provoking a cocaine craving for cereal bowls of milk with powder on the table
mama always knew how to keep up in the morning so he wouldn't be late to school
never late to school so mama would have enough time to make sure she felt nothing when papa came home and watched pretty tony jive about why he should make her sing and scream

Freddie Freeloader

contemplating whether or not

to ask the girl in the

hat worn to seem mysterious 

if she likes bebop

it's too late i caught a glimpse 

of what she likes to fill her

cup up with & it's making me consider finally cleaning

my room

i don't have a plan 

for if i find out the person she looked

up to was a whore 

reminders of my fear of pissing in toilets

with shit in it already

we should meet somewhere in the dark 

so i don't have

to worry about her going home 

because i wore the wrong shoes

or maybe i should stay right here 

and pretend i still enjoy

this coffee and how well it goes with my last few cigarettes

i wish i could just ask her if i can only love her without having to

introduce myself

sky blue gray and i haven't went yet because there's shit in that one

contemplating

Blue Velvet

lady luck gets drunk with her cousins on Thursday nights walking
amongst city lights giving clues about what fabric their panties are
and what type of gun cool cats need to use if they want to get them off

fill my cup up with broken bones because lost souls are going out of
style but don't worry I'll stay true to the hat you bought me last year

show me what a good father wears bring me to a library where people aren't just trying to get out of the rain 

call me when i ask you to and not just because i was nice enough to not kill your mother

it's going to take more than a glass of wine for me to confess about
how it was when the priest put his hand on my knee

my girlfriends a catholic and wants me to memorize a couple pages
before she allows me to go through her medicine cabinet

I just need to make sure i nail my close up before she allows me to make it painless

waking up to the window closed and no known name yet for her

and the panties she left on my bathroom floor

The Hours

what is it that's keeping you and me away from each other
     you thought it was that girls jeans, 

    i thought it was cause your

mother never told you she loved you 

for trying so hard to become

a jazz singer… 

or, is it just that jazz and soul 

distract’s you and I 

from being able to take our clothes off 

  just let marvin influence

the motion’s in our advance 

& the groove within how we step into

the diner 

you showed me how your grandmother 

taught you
how to stir your coffee 

& how many tablespoons of (preferably BROWN) sugar 

to make it perfect

         so tearful

of me to realize i'm what inspired 

you to light your cigarette 

how heartbreaking it would be to you 

if I confessed how the scent of Ella's hair 

directed the stutter in how i hugged you 

please forgive me 

sweet no need for
lipstick 

i'll

 call you when i get home and won't hang up until i know

 you've fallen
asleep… peacefully

Sophie's Choice

I remember the smell of teen spirit when I figured out the meaning
of life and had no one to share it with to rejoice in the jazz and guitars
that guide the direction of what we are and ideas of love all come together
for small instances and destruct again with no recollection of the how hills seemed
to me and you and how it would of been to her if she was there to witness
the first time you felt the need to be in the protection of your father and the
comedy that comes along with it i can't go back now i just let it guide itself to
a direction where it will end up on the grand stage to have that very moment
where the memory and eventual creation of all great things come together for
this very moment where I finally choose to let the song play and maestro finally
introduces the beautiful lady who will introduce me and I introduce to all of you
this very moment where we all feel together no need to justify it in books or pictures
or even love letters though excuse if I choose to do all those because it's what makes
this moment all the more better funnier when we're discussing it over our favorite
town pancakes i recall the days roaming through Filmore trying to understand why
anyone would choose to sleep on the ground until we felt it for ourselves and made love
and sang songs and then warmed under the same blanket i can carry on now because
i was able to stay warm throughout the night thank you brother and sister and lover and
killer i don't ignore that you're still alive and you're still there perhaps if i treat you kindly
you woulnd't be as mean to me and the people I know as you've been to Foxy Brown
and John Somename they didn't deserve the shame of having to bury an old friend cool
cat that influenced you and how you tied your shoes the way you do and stride through San Francisco lights trying succeed the idea of love through the way you light your cigarette and ask the prettiest thing in sight if they would like the idea of sharing a bowl of ice cream come with me
my beatiful dearest and take your lipstick off because there's no need to pretend anymore that we're both just trying to find a way to get each other naked and show each other our ideas of how to make it feel good

Peace to the beauty of Ruby Dee

peace to julia, lookin for quarters in the corner floor of the liquor store.

Talking To The Sun

Peace to bunny's on the street who provide me 

with the pleasure of lighting their cigarette 

and asking them about the mud on the bottom of their boots...


Not sayin' that happened to me today, 

but the sky's are so gray, I feel the need to 

show my gratitude before it all ever happens

It's been almost a year now. Please don't rain on my Jazz,

 because I chose to keep the red pen I use to cross off all 

the days that have passed since that first winter.

 It adds sophistication to trying to remember...

I'm also curious if there will ever be a point 

where I forget to use it anymore

If it does, then I'll know how many days 

it took to get to my favorite part. The needle has been put to the groove, 

now it's time to wait and let the honey drip

What's with the curious eye? You're making me nervous because I don't have my best hat on. Did you see the hole in me that I hide behind cigarettes and coffee?

Oh, all the questions that I've rehearsed to answer. I've gotten standing ovations from ghosts who understand my monologue. They've been here ever since S/he stopped wondering.

The shoes are tied, and I haven't even put them on yet. I like them like that, so all I have to do is take that last step. And it's on. Ice Cream, for bent spoons block party when we see the moon and it's time for us to all to turn into vampires, who get weaker in the morning.

Broadway Danny Rose

slight disillusioned and mind trife institution teaching playground stars
what to think about mama and papa duke when they forget to cook dinner
after cocaine insane picture past frame and the best artists always color
outside the lines to define empty space so runaways won't feel like nothing
is truly what it is

who knows where time goes after 12 i do but no one will ever believe
me and what I saw when I crossed the thick red line that makes lovers
reconsider their new born children

i can't describe the jazz when it played and the money that was paid
to make this slow dance and the 20 mins in my room an act of survival

just talk to me like you know me and you understand my need to have
a soft blanket when i sleep

teach her something different so she won't think the blood dripping from
her wrists are a good reason to put on her favorite dress

sit like you mean it and have every intention to make yourself comfortable
as I wait for your reaction for how the 1st act ends

pump your clenched fist birthday boy to scare off maloks trying to tell
you how to use your spoon

She's Gotta Have It

blasphemy you yelled after you found out only ghosts can write in water
much to say but the cup still isn't empty enough for angels and demons to wander
slumber before i took the pill i figured love can only be found after the equals = sign
dark corners that don't have plugs for lamps, or phones to call her, or clocks reminding
you how everything is measured in 12
doze off to a point where the sun can shine, and her could smell good while she pulls her
panties down, and this blanket will still never come off
i can't see as good as I used to, favorite color is blue because it's only one I see as I'm about to drown then suddenly wake up to the needle off the groove
I got to put it back again before I forget how the song ends and loose the silk in my speak
or shoes on my feet as I'm running towards cities where they might notice something isn't
right with how I'm moving

The Impatient Years

Take time to unfold 

what's been thrown 

underneath your bed 

& willfully forgotten

Lost souls asking ghosts 

for directions being told to 

follow the reminders of jazz

matches don't last long enough 

when you're trying to relight reasons 

to play Ella
keep yourself at a distance 

whenever no home Molly 

          looks at empty spooons

king sized beds invaded by hipsters 

who found swallowed keys in untrashed 

alleys
compensate me no mind

   as i attempt 

to not look like every face 

on the street you've ever seen
       meet me at the drugstore with your humble intent (secretly) laced wit’ an appetite to see what see she looks like underneath
——- freckles on her backside 

inspire your next composition, 

      because of how much they 

remind you of the night you were distracted away from freaks because of how the constellation looked that night…

the comfortable silence that came along 

when you both took the time 

to take notice to someone introducing 

themselves on walls

a thousand words written with one pen 

could never express the color 

they expressed in one name

hookers caught off guard 

with questions about 

what they like on their cake or pie 

before they work for that pretty dress they saw on Haye
stutters in her tearful song of mama's favorite has her wishing that we both could just get down to business… 

as she feels the growing pains of getting closer to where she really wants to be
       she told me she didn't need my money, but asked me if she could keep the change.progress

Mo' Better Blues

singing with no intention but to have them all witness
some people just prefer fruit from a tree or cup with juice all up in it
to sip on nectar before it inspires the letter he's going to write
and who he's going to write it to to see if she knew he was letting
someone else's apples run down to his shirt seduced by gimmicks
no matter how neon obvious something just isn't following what
he's used to but don't blame him for needing to fulfill seeing color
in fire trying to do what other kids did with it somethings television
just can't give on july 4th it's hard to deny it when it's still within
your vision and all the silly questions asked how come the people
papa raised with him didn't seem distracted by people doing good
impressions of the black skin would be considered sin until addiction
10 more years for adding a little salt to the food on the devils favorites
from the kitchen where known victims of an apple a day cook their favorite
pie baked from crop picked by snakes that were thrown away by eve
simply because she's getting tired of waking up in the morning with no
recollection of her last bite


Word to Bleek Gilliam

Dirty Harry

... and I turn quickly at first reminder of how long her hair was
first time since first winter since that has happened
silly me to think it was approriate to take my coat off
i spot the first thing in blue mysterious and find all the ways to every meaningful nothing until it's safe again
for lovers who whored themselves to jazz and pissed together bonding
so many times after lighting cigarettes have i realized maybe i should have stayed asleep beside her to see if should really would of made those pancakes she promised
i'm still buzzing from the moment she scared me with her tatoos
figured out after 9th street that our skin are blankets and tatoos are incisions giving space to see the stars & holes black in our souls giving light as well as consuming it

Word to cowboys who hunt down men with no name

The Pope of Greenwich Village

i remember how warm the bread was when i reached the staircase that led to remembering everything
why can i dance better when i know i have an excuse to forget what you told on me in the middle of the 7th song
when's the next time lady luck's going to wear the red dress again, yes the red dress, the dress that takes away attention from wedding rings on the hands of father time
the ring that reminds me of my my fear of circles and provokes the stutter in trigger fingers when you're trying to stick up for your little brother
the same feeling you get when you're trying to figure out whether you have a big dick or not and can get away with leaving in the morning after she told you it was her first time
turning the corner on a purposely made wrong turn keeps me wearing my best hat until it's time for dinner again and it's time for me to take my shoes off
pardon for being late, i'm was trying to find a coin to flip to see if i should confess to you that i was trying other peoples cooking
color in your smoke exhalations for more detail to put in frames and finally remove dust from your truth's past when you hallucinated the one who stopped you from having to run ever again because of their ability to catch up

i pump gats and punk cats

because insecurity turns her on

the shit that i rock is nice

Mona Lisa

sometimes I don't even know why I open the page
pen moving with no intention other than to undress
the air was colder than usual exhalations stained with thought seen easy
open the mind induced when love was breathed into the air
cigarette smoke eases withdrawing from the smell of her hair

i don't even know what s/he looks like but i still speak
s/he responds everytime jazz as the needle missionaries wax
phone bells wake my sleeping casablanca hoping it gives me a reason to take my pants off
paint on the bottom of her feet as lunatics interpret the meaning of where she travels
there's art in how she moves and it grabs Mona Lisa's attention realizing intention in her fake smile
open your mouth and you will be remembered forever

Green Eyes

my love my brown skin french undertone mr. jones on the corner of 5th just wants to know what's underskirt green eyed love

i try to catch you every tuesday to catch your rare herbs and the symphony it plays to my spirit after your weekly routine of ignoring Nancy.youreyeslooklikepuddles

unlock my chest so I could join you on the end of Philly and breath love and my perfect president in the air

early morning inspirations for rape in a tall glass with bubbles brewed you know how to remind them about Saturday morning pancakes before they do it

sometimes there's no one in theater to see the jazz from your seat as you watch Casablanca reasons to order the same candy each time

i've watched you seduce ghosts naked because you liked the fabric of their white sheets and left them weeping when they realized you weren't there for them

A Strange Arrangement

midnight strolls for strung out beatniks 

looking into puddles
counting every face that left in the morning 

before breakfast
tearful interpretations of billie 

and however many times they
changed their minds because they realized how heavy a bag
full of books really were

ain't no reason to pack light

    when experiencing violet for the
first time we ever chose to dance for rain 

the way we did when 

we
all once were hoping jazz wouldn't cease to play 

at the same time

every thursday 

after lost attempts of 

seducing waitresses to sing
us their best song

nobody ever told him 

all he must hold onto 

as he said goodbye to carvings in the tree he gazed at 

  until she would come to offer

fabric from her most softest of sweaters 

she wore 

not caring 

what
the people say or if jesus wept

 when he easily guided them to
salvation 

before all apologies 

were mentioned to distract marchers
to freedom when they caught flashback 

of that one night they decided
to share their bed 

and forget what they were named

A Strange Arrangement

Word to travelers who found humble beginnings in red jackets

Cinderella Fella

leftover stains of passing summer's rhythm seen in yellow autumn leaves
memories of honey soaked lady blue as you walk on sidewalks once seduced
by jazz and hipsters who sought after children of war still interested in candy
who haven't walked too far down hell's steps to still remember what it felt like
when warmth wasn't torture and nothing felt more heavenly than to sin with
foxy brown on Thursday nights after tasting the end of chocolate aphro-hypno
and a need to understand why Miles was so inspired by champagne blamed bruises
and rouge lips as the of author d'evils once said so charasmatic during hazy day sunlit

Can It Be All So Simple (Remix)

sound off for a minute: following isn't dedicated to anyone specific.

For all Noah's who've lost wisdom...

lately i've been feeling completely disregarded by the most powerful yet manipulative feeling merriam defines as love

i feel a little less love from my parents, i'm trying to figure out whether or not i'm loved by my friends, but none of that mattered until i lost love from her

and it hurts how she's still apart of me and it's impossible for me to let her go because the oxygen in my lungs still has traces of the life s/he breathed into me during our first kiss

one seed was planted into two hearts which grew into a love that connected us as one

i wanted to study every tear that ran down her cheek, not only to nurture her sadness but also so i could see the world through her eyes

and all i really desired from her was to walk with me, talk with me, and hold my right hand so when i pledged allegiance to her, it was with an open heart

and all those times i whispered something into her ear that was really my imagination wandering hoping to find it's way home within her

and if i could i would drink the wine of her blood so that apart of her would always flow through me and she would have faith when i say she defined my existence

but all that's gone now

one morning i thought i had witnessed the creep up the mountain top, but then i realized i had come across her waking eyes, i miss it

everyone else is just bunch of mindless albino kids who don't know how to handle her love and run away with ghosts at dawn

suicide is on my mind not to end my life but to be reincarnated into another being finally be able to love her again through them reborn

word to esther phillips

The Savoy Lessons

lonely broken hearts don't have to make excuses for midnight pancakes
his favorite diner just makes em' so well after hazy walks blue digging
fly jazzy jive isn't here for her coffee like tuesday's last asking him for cigarettes
he handed em' to her holding seconds hoping for minutes till his dessert came
sugar substitute foxy brown is kind of like ice cream the way cold melts away
she brings him to his sunday's best without having to seduce jesus for convince
only seconds for effect of memories of his favorite jazz groove drunk father time
no need to consider undergarment size he won't get that far till her charm rapes
it's okay after eggs and pie honey walked away 3 days ago he'll take anything sweet.hetero
$5 to culture cypher and the encore of late night television reflection of how her hair smelled


dedicated to man who built pyramids

Sketches of Spain

the rediscovery of the key to hell's back door in your pocket
the only reason you consider is because the bed is comfortable

observing the lynching of your brother interpreting joy & pain
now i know why jesus bled with a smile

lonliness dwells in warm places and only expresses itself when there's no light
don't blame him for his erection underneath the sheets after you've been gone for so long

strung out with a gun out fully unloaded
it helps for dramatic effect when he attempts shakespeare

jazz has found it's way to be heard once again
Hallucinating 7 steps to San Francisco for the sake of hearing her one last time

even the most charming and manipulative of snakes from the garden have been fooled by big breasts
ate the fruit he's been tempting others for so long and realizes why sugar is so addictive

... He likes to shoot his gun

lost and forced language in the middle of transition
the search for midnight delights as the leaves turn yellow
past the point where lovers reconsider walking seperate
pages filled with attempts to reinvigorate bruised fruit
acoustic songs and memories of miles first attempting bitches

if only we talked two months ago before hollywood came
it's not too late to return back to white after mexico gold
mumbling for streams hoping sources of flow come back
keep the subtitles and vails over stylish ways to death
base is gone and there's no need to look when it's you

i don't give a fuck anymore about making cents.sense
just turn it back off again so her ghost can keep me company

striving for culture in the midst

Make Me Wanna Holla'

dusted vinyl's still play yet you feel like something's different

12"of sanity revolutions for scholars drawing chains that

aren't even really there but muscle from the escape has

you feeling like there's something that needs lifting

lovers fear showers because they appreciate color left behind

by lipstick which bring memories of blue when jazz finally

decided to introduce itself after a few shots of foxy brown

playing the same songs over and over again make you feel

like happiness is something strived for even though you

felt like nothing could be better than the lit end of havana

let the honey drip on it's own without the help of lonely

femme fatales trying to take advantage of how much you

love your mother

What Huey was saying, What Assata was saying,

What Sundiata was saying... What Rodney bled for,

What Mumia is contained for, what Bruce fought for,

what Martin marched for, is what Laurence Powell

tried to hide, what Stacey Koon tried to hide, what

James Earl was hired to kill is what Leprechauns

have realized: There is gold at the end of all colors combined.

check the script as you and ya god's get it ripped

blunts and fifth 40 dogs to the lips

meet me in

charlie and the yardbird to remember cool travels
open minded only comes before headaches for some

As High As Wu-Tang Gets

on the road to mexico blue moons painting brownsville
at filters end 58' San Francisco dispelled what was pen'd
technicolor jazz with strong hints of earth and her
echos without note to remind why we pick thorny roses
seduce the gun from jesus before he realizes hollywood
children playing hopscotch over the point of no return
guided by mama's voice before mine I wish she was still here
after the line was crossed to help choose fruit offered by snakes
hands held misspell her name for just claims of not knowing her
like her like you used to.byebyemysteryjonesyousangquitewell

D'evils

i haven't written in a while
busy skippin jivin smoke contemplating lady.style
vanilla hello sorry for ignoring it's kind of hard to ignore the carribean horn riffs
dirty is humble to some overtime eventually the cool settles in and sin's since convinced
open for improvisation to of course look for autumn leaves
love supreme tastes milky like earth birth or even stick it in for what it's worth
crying over strange fruit billie couldn't have cried it any better please let her finish
in tune and soul dripping from a tendency to fill up champagne cups
park walking for understanding or demanding all leads to motels and money tenderloin
wisdom for chess and invitations of poetry all under city lights around routne
acid under confessions of urges to take friendships to next levels
pardon the penmanship and the blood it just helps me take her to december
sidewalk brother from the bus who helped you remember how you can color it in any way you want

a visit to hell once I flick camels into the neighbors garden

Word to Brotha Wise and the uncivilized

...and I'm still trying to find em
thoughts come and go but some how the pattern still seems to stay the same
it's been a while since the last letter read before that night's dinner
trees's are worth more than just imagining
paths that lie beneath streams that flow towards a penny for a thought
cheap cool to carry for later and ferment until it turns into Friday morning amnesia
it's been awkward and black since the day words didn't have to stay on pages
feed the caged bird you bought and forgot till reminded when s/he knocked
open the box it's all there when you used to take her to buy waffles and cigarettes
remember the song but don't listen until s/he tries to impress you one last time
taste the tea to memorably forget heavy ceilings that one night s/he peaked over
i mentioned the bird, and the words, and there's no one around to change the subject on
make me feel silly for living and remembering then shout obscenities when you're gone again
deliberate misspelled names to unclaim having spent any moments of forging eternal sunshine
... for those who speak to themselves and weep to themselves at thought of what the shotgun might say. won't say nothing because a speech i made has made the shotgun speechless and mute. four score and seven more, none of that shit has to do with you and me. the things i write and forge in sight the days after s/he.

noise disillusion

Televison volume and

Full Deck

It's time for me to climb out of this cave of introverts...


Truth comes in layers. Especially personal truths, up until recently I've been without sources of energy since April. Some have been on the road, some have followed the path of lovers. Slowly the layers began drift away to nourish other parts of the earth on the way to their own peronal mountain tops. And as they traveled, so did the layers. In the middle of it all, I was left with the layer that was left in the corner of my closet when I finally saw the first light after S/he left: The escapist. Yes, that familiar stranger that avoids mirrors and walks the earth choosing to only see his reflection in pen strokes and blank pages. The hermit who values comfortable couches over the child like search of ?.

This cave is familiar to me. Yet so unfamilar, as I realized. There were discoveries of trap doors every now and then since my first visit. The pen I used to first put writing on the wall still has ink in it. I love writing on the walls. Though this visit I've found myself loving writing on the wall a little more than usual. Me and this pen have interpreted the darkest shades of black to the whitest of lights. And I've found that trap door in the cave that lets my pen choose the color I want to write each letter with. Word is bond, yo... It's mad personal pats on the back fa' me jack. I can watch any television show and be entertained all of that shit now, and even though there's this, that, and the third with a slight pinch of bullshit up in the mix, I've broken personal mental barriers and I can find value in all. Which perhaps may be the pleateau of any persons journey to self actualization, the state in which there's interpretation rather than judgement and one can see value in anything, whether it be the darkest shade of black or the whitest of lights. In my journeys for now I believe that could be the plateau. But I don't know for sure. I'm not dead yet so I can't tell you.

In the current those sources of energy have found there way back to an accessible proximity for me, and I am thankful. I feel reinvigorated by what I've written on the wall in my cave, and my eyes have readjusted to the light again. And I continue my journey of finding eternal sources of energy, and yes there is a such a thing as an eternal source of energy, you just haven't made it yet. So wordlife fam, go and fuckin make that shit! I made one, I'm bout to make another one next week after school. Shieeet.


Again to those that need it especially: Peace to the gods and the earths and the Zulu Nation, it's all bouta be safe soon. I promise.

Word to The Prophet...

The Dharma Bums (remastered)

I've seen the most romantic hearts 

of my generation destroyed by empty beds,
senseless, roaming illuminated streets 

looking for someone with a spare light,

forgotten descendants of the cool note 

yearning for the understanding of stars
and a lit cigarette for who sanity ink’d 

, strung up glassy eyed sat up 

speaking to no one that was there 

exhaling their best interpretations of 

     New Orlean’s Summer Nights

colored in soul with different shades of paint 

than the usual under the Le' and saw
buddah teetering on halfway house rooftops 

and somehow still managed to be luminous,

who passed through institutions 

with subtle steps yet radiant eyes 

trying to figure out the difference 

between pipe dreams 

and moonless nights among
the scholars of vanity, 

who were condemned for the 

moment lady day took
their attention away from Jesus, 

who were violated

while still having on their
underwear and still not feeling 

the full effects of what they ingested earlier

the consent was inhibited by poor judgment 

 
who walk in straight line all the way 

through Mount Vernon on the way to
San Francisco with a sheet of Abbey Road 

under their tounge.eastcoastwestside

Who swore the return of werewolves 

in the corner of Thursday blues night… 

sipping whiskey from a personal 

hoping to find someone willing to take an offer,

Who ate dirty ice in stolen living spaces 

or drank urine in paradise alley (desperatetimesthemeasure)
or confined to their torsos with dreams, 

with drugs, 

           alcohol and conversations

while painting nothing other than 

the calloused hands

of time.stilltryingtopaintwhatitfeelike

Word to the Fillmore... I'll be there on time, I promise.

Strange Fruit

On the way to promises of things you can't even remember
Still going along just as long as the band keeps playing
And S/he keeps singing

Places to fill and wine to pour the shrimp tastes fresher here
Foxy brown sugar by the tablespoon trippin open toed type
Rock and Roll and Jazz Queen confused by rage and rhythm.needsbothforthesakeofemotionalbalance
Interuppted by phones and moans and things of the shiny bright
Lead the people on hot sidewalks memories of colder nights bring praises to the lord
Confused and high and lost what can you do they put the needle to the groove
Stanzas and notes and vomit fuck and love the bittersweet of life
Encore for more bring back lady day so I can color in this memory for detail
Streams of reminisce and pen strokes.conscioussness while withdrawn
Easier days and a maze to be forgotten and occupied by those turned away by the forgetful
Hymns and dances still have yet to be taught to by uninstitutionalized rain dancers
Crack dealing peaches stolen from folks keeping it retro starved and raped and compensated for their troubles
Unaware and seduced underneath comfortable sheets stolen merely because of soft fabric


Word to Nancy Wilson and Mario Van Peebles for soul...

The Black Saint & The Sinner Lady

Addictions for sleeping in
Brilliance that wasn't there before the first hit
Open eyed Rosalyn stuck in a dream
Priest reconsidering religon in midst of exorcism
Art in black and white past the movies.life
Finally giving in and chess once you turn A St.

Mexico and black tar and Jazz before dinner
Unorganized the wisest of men for Casablanca broken hearts
Strings in the guitar plucked and seduced because of whiskey
5 days of not having been back but coffee still there
Funk & Joy & Colors & Smoke mindless you turn as she...

Respiration

Subejects of identity over cigarettes and textbooks

The insanity of trying to put words to feelings best expressed in the other

Don't you know what music is for?

Back against the wall wearing a three piece with the chains

Intoxicated as he's supposed to walking by the broken hearted

hedonist turned away from the romantic begger he gave his clothes to

The song he sings is soul over the battle drum in the distance

Miles sent a melody for future lovers fooled by chocolate

Black fist left young blue eyed anonymous abandoned his leather jacket

for feeling the same cold, despite what's been written

Carl Solomon

The one song missed, and it hurts because you accept it
Panic for the lack of guilt towards the brick wall you built

The most romantic of men seduced by the charasmatic whore
She sings and lights cigarettes after makefuck/pretendlove.anonymous
Synonymous forms of art to express the same ways to cool
Arranged by Thelonious pipe tobacco and a hat for the night to come
Lost lover on the path to her bedroom for a person to not.fuckjustlisten

She's thrown off by your lack of an erection but abundance in vulnerabilities
Upset by your inability to be affected by sex and ice cream.italwaysmadeherfeelbetter

High and induced ecstasy as she played the strings to her tribute to Bob
Drunk with rhythm in his stumble in his attempt to catch her eye

Ferry boat set out to sea for dancers out to find the song neglected

Follow The Leader

Heroes and Sheroes written for history
or unsung left to roam along the road
less traveled

Unnoticed in the corner watching her
sing indulging in her aura holding onto
the colors to paint his next picture

Uneasy on a worn mattress in his
apartment that faces east pokes
him in the eye to remind of the night
before

Untouched in the picket line as the
beast comes to enforce their "freedom"
and their connection to the creator

Undecided on the poison to take her
very soul away you dont want to risk
her falling in love with you and reading
your journals


Word, and dedications to the one who know's why the caged bird sings...

Lucien Midnight

There Mary is, sitting in front of the diner
looking for someone with a spare light

There's a double meaning to her wait
Oh though they'll only offer her one
Charles Mingus powerfully raping his
trumpet after falling in love

Holding the book as if it's the only thing
that can save her from being seen
She turns the pages, and flicks her cigarette
with her long fingernails still wearing her sunday
best

"Good enough for God!" she exclaimed while
taking off the shirt she borrowed from papa
last week

"Don't leave me if it felt good" She cried while
trying to contain her need for her morning
coffee

She prayed to the wrong God and got too
high to realize she was offering her body
to Jesus

She's too afraid to admit he touched her in
way that wasn't meant for her to cum
but she did it anyway

Damned her saviour to hell for leaving before
she could wake up
Only to find out he left hoping to surprise her
with breakfast when she first got back

A Coney Island of the Mind

I want a home to roam on my own
Write verses to urge Jesus to come out of his hiding place
A mirror in a bathroom to contemplate her beauty

A Love Supreme travels through the hallway
Pipe Tobacco lingers and it's all making her
reconsider you for more

The old earth comes earlier than expected
You could still feel the buzz from the night before
Old meals from home that make you despise time

If only it was all so simple as it was
$5 doesn't hold you over like it used to
Cream and sugar is a painful way to settle


But it'll all do for now

Bags' Groove

The feeling of friendship and the defence of powdered heaven
Kindly asking for an offer, it would of been easier if it was the
clothes off my back, or my sister, sadly to say.Milesunderstood

Brought the cool to the blue note in 7 steps, next came Jesus
Offered you Bitches Brew and the guitar kind of threw you off
It's a new decade, and she just doesn't get you lustful and insane
anymore

1958, Folsom St. fur coat warmth for madam considering sinning
with the beatnik who kindly lit her cigarette
The hedonism in his pen invites her to excuse herself politely

go behind the door to touch her breast.fuckmelikeyoulovemeandoeverythingyoucantomakemebelieveyoumeanit


Called her a bitch and said the pussy was good
Too prideful to admit the intimacy you felt because
it scares you to fall in love with someone so insane

Apartment Jam Sessions

The pen feels funny when it's forced.sometimesyoutrytofindwordstodescribethemostmeaninglessofsoundsjusttofeellikethere'satleastsomethingoutthereyoucan understand.


Have you forgotten the arrangements of Charlie Parker?
Wrote the cool note for the one who always showed up early
Left a $5 tip and it's the only you payed attention to
Had a sip of Jose to catch a quick glance without her noticing

Mama used to whip me across the back with a strap

The tree was perfect the way it was, until I came
Now they won't consider taking it away to
just end up throwing away later
it means too much to me to just be held on display

one time in one month, then bring it to it's death to
signify the new year

Word the Bird.

4th Chamber

What the fuck? I just witnessed one
of my sisters friends try to flirt with
pop dukes. That has got to be the
most disturbing shit I've ever been
subjected to.

If I fuckin' catch this bitch anywhere
in my house ass naked, rolling around
in a bunch of rose petals... I'm pulling
out the fatal flying guillotine. Word the motha!

Sisters friend:


Me:


...Cause I don't play that shit.

It was a hurtful image for me,

watching young ason pick up a dropped cigarette

Naked Lunch

Sinners of sentences forced to express in rhythm
Amnesia feels guilty only when they say so
The song isn't long enough for you to
feel like it's right to fall in love with her

There's a question I just can't seem to answer
because the painter can't decide what color to use
The brown on her skin, the powder white around her nose,
the black they still don't believe is      beautiful.itmakesthemdanceenoughTHO’!
the red everyone forgot about.thecasinoishauntedandthatdollariscursed


Peace to the 5%.

...and she said.

ready to put my fists up
bare hand no guns

just trying to check how
strong your chin is
for the one that decides
to give you the advantage

it's kind of hard to pull
the trigger now isn't it?

startled at the site of
the foe who knew how
to pick locks ringing your
doorbell and greeting your
grandmother

it makes you deaf
when someone has a
vendetta and acts it out
kindly not stating thesis
about how bad he could
fuck you up

rodney king felt it and now
wants all of us to break bread
wounds always make the
same statement.beatdownonthepavementitbreaksyourheartwhenit'snotpapaandhiswitchwhitemanpresidentandhisobedientpig.


Word to 1992

Stan Getz Live in Europe 1958

Divided between the girl who wants to stay home and the
one that wants to run away and become a jazz singer

Church, Sunday television, relatives drinking up all
your liquor, the weeds are too long but you
just don't give a fuck yet

$10 to heaven, fucking upstairs before the final act,
contemplating dropping your last nickel even though
they're playing your song.itsoundssosweet

confined comfort or indulgent vulnerability

Extraordinary Machine

Him and her conversations you overhear that brings the blue back
The eyeless stare that turned medusa to stone, and set her free.
Sight and sound, effects profound, sex and freedom go so well together.

Doesn't it feel good to keep the cigarette unlit?


S/he threw away the journal you left before it all came.
Only one entry, S/he can't help but to keep writing
in between the slash lines in her arm in an attempt
to justify the pain.

Is blood the only thing that's truthful anymore?


:"Don't you know how beautiful you are? Such great literature
can wait to be written. Hold my hand, and write the ressurrection
of Miles, John, Ella, and Billie in the middle of my palm, so I can
have something beautiful to hold onto."