Saturday, January 31, 2009


The skinny bearded guy lying face up in my doorway calls "everything" weird once every eleven seconds.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Welcome Back

I nuke two chicken patties. The ham and cheese kaiser roll warms up in the panini grill. In the dining room my homie tries to persuade his homie to sleep on the couch and to not drive home drunk. His mother has a lump on her breast. I'm the only one who hears and during our twelve second exchange I try to act like it isn't a big deal and he shouldn't be scared. You express hunger, buddy. So the three of you hydroplane down to the O for some pizza. I eat my cordon bleu sandwich in safety, wishing I would help more.

The French

What sense does it make for transportation workers to strike due to economic woes? I mean, the people that ride public transport in order to get to work, shop, live, can't get exactly does this help the economy?

Monday, January 26, 2009

Previously Written: To The Stupid Kid

My rediscovery of poetry a few years ago started with hip hop. What I didn't know then was that lyricists are really just poets that incorporate a lot of rhyme and rhythm into their poetry. I was very interested in battle rap, rhyming poems that share a common aim: to elevate oneself and simultaneously degrade an opponent. I used to visit online forums and post lyrics against other web emcees. We were judged by other forum goers, who were mostly Canadian underground hip hop fans. I wrote this poem to be a sample of that community. I borrow a lot here.

To the stupid kid who thought he could challenge Tabasco Velasco but had to change his boxers because I made an example of him and verbally curb stomped his British ass in front of his disappointed father and his girlfriend who played Cho Chang in the last two Harry Potter movies and probably never slept with him because the obnoxious Slug wannabe rapped worse than Kevin plays Madden
and Kevin fucking sucks at Madden

In your distress
my hormonal levers
depress, you never guessed
I’d sever your best tonal endeavors
and yes you’re pressed, pinned,
not destined to best me
I attack with cat naps and
make the kill with narcolepsy
you’re a sleeper to my Sean Nokes
snapping off the belt
if you shot a verse
with arrows and boobs
you wouldn’t be felt
you dug in real deep shit
logs hugging your kneepits
sloppy trails
reveal your copy and paste secrets
stiffened like a puppet
and I’m lifting up your strings
I could kill you in two couplets
like a zombie king

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Penny Meditation

I swig my coffee. The copper taste of a penny, the acid hops in my throat like a virgin at a rodeo. My mouth is stagnate.

The Chinese are ruthless

I agree that those s.o.b's deserved the death penalty, especially if they were aware of the toxins in the milk. I don't always agree with the Chinese, but on this point, I nod to them.

Monday, January 19, 2009


Wisdom #2 of the day: If you black out while eating sandwiches, just stop eating them. Thanks.