all i know

I never marched on the Pentagon with Allen Ginsberg and the masses
but I shared the moments with O’Hara during lunch breaks
in supermarkets where housewives go to shop
and where the junkies go at midnight to satisfy their need for
saltines and nutrients.

I carry my poetry with me everywhere that I go
that’s how it goes, that’s how I go
Did I hear the lady sing in the background
did I see the words seep into my being and curse me
forever with a yearning for freedom?
I know, that’s the way it goes, 

the beauty of quitting, is now that I’ve quit, I can have one…’cause I quit

— Tom Waits

by: A-BB aka Wang Tao

May 8

Outside of my window, it is like a rainforest.
I hear the birds calling out to each other
and if I were to close my eyes, I would be
in the middle of a tropical place,
with exotic animals and fruit that grows
elegantly on branches for me to eat.

But I hear the sounds of cars, trains and airplanes
tainting the skies and the earth, leaving
tread marks and scars upon the surface of a place
that I loved only in my imagination.

wednesday

I posture and pose for the pictures, miniature flashes of brilliance
capturing the essence of these colored lines of prose and poetry
that bleed through the mead from my knotted hands,

They tell stories, utilizing language to create, to destroy, to be slanderous
to lie and rhyme, existing in alternate realities where the burnt flesh
is the mark of a speaker of truth; the smell is just the same,
the purpose remains.
I cant explain the knots in my throat, nor the aches in my fingers
that prevent me from speaking my mind in the specific moments
that remain parched, yearning for their lover to return
but the purpose remains.
There is a moment in my life that I have seen, perhaps it has already passed.
The moments slip past me as I reach for their apparitions that taunt, point and
laugh at the man who missed his chance,
but my purpose remains.
I am part of the fellowship, the conversation that speaks in couplets and rhythmic
slurs, spurring them to mute our voice, so we speak through the pages and computer screens that tell of dead voices in the wind and freedom,
and my purpose remains.

7 et fin

there were 7 demons,
and angels who prayed for the lovers,
the possessed and the dead
who had been patterned upon the skins
of the living.
Baskets of fractured clay fell from the skies
piercing souls as each made of wicker wound itself
back to the Earth which it came from,
stained crimson from the blood of the innocent
murderers and guilty children who hid behind
empty bottles and overflowing ash-trays.

“Tetelestai,” they spoke in unison, 
unified for the final moment of judgement 

Typical Cats - Cliche

enjoy

To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else’s heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell.

— Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Love in the Time of Cholera (via fleurishes)

(Source: rotule)

Reinventing the Wheel - Typical Cats

where all my smokers at?

this next ones for you 

5:23 am

 I heard
a voice speaking to me in a language
I did not know, an Ancient vernacular
from before the downfall of Babel.
My tongue could not move,
helplessly I listened to the Foreigner
tell me tales of destruction of souls
for strangely I understood the words
that came from shadows.
Against the will of my paralyzed body that slept
I opened my eyes
and I saw Lucifer, accompanied by Beezlebub and Azazel
looming over me with their sinister grins
hugging my astral body, limp in their collective embrace. 

Athens vs. the Forest

Happiness does not dictate how I will live my life,

I have come to terms with the fact that this world that I live in

is plagued with enough evil to obstruct the divine from my soul.

Rarely, do I ignore my human intuitions,

rarely though, do I succumb to the Holy.

Even though I live by the law of the written word,

my soul does not understand the language it is written in.

My emotions run free,

love, lust, hate, happiness, anger jealousy, 

it is a mess of chaotic brilliance,

like a fractal or a factual piece of evidence

proving the existence of both magic and God.

I cringe, at my blasphemous attitude, I was raised by Love

and nurtured by the Trinity,

speaking to me in voices so familiar.

My life has been lived by a man I never knew,

a man so raw and ignorant to his own contradictions.

It will get better though, 

as I continue to attempt to make my point,

accepting my human nature, hoping it will be nurtured

by the mysteriousness of the forests and the caves

which I see in my natural dreams. 

So till the police leave,
Until the streets live and breathe,
Until we all rich and ain’t nobody in need,
Until I see some politicians bleed for everything that they could have done but didn’t cuz of greed,
Until we all free, fuck the world, pass the weed,

— DENIZEN KANE

you’ve failed to realize that hip hop has always been about the rusty fork trying to eat like the silver spoon

— LEMON