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Thursday, November 1, 2012


spring,hail,sleet,snow,July turn December
these blistered fingers are hook,line & zinger
got me into the dialogue like Maury/Wilkos/Springer....preacher with a heater
digg & get the meter,
meteor shower type word reader at his zenith
word of mouth come up on the lowkey parade of leachers
watch as I spin this art & your soul is reached...
due to me,naw,im simply out in the streets
fuckin up towns
demanding clout,stringing
your just in your hometown
complaing about how you never get
I see all sorts of things
like passion in the rain
or blood stains on the audomin
inaudible gargalling from my followers
because no man deseves
and I barely have 60.00 dollars to my dick
being that its almost winter
I should dip south & dissapear for a bit
but Im way to proud to
so Ill just sit still and
every single word I ever conjured in the cauldron I call
post modern DADA
realisim with a hint of not giving a fucking

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