Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Hyperbolic

Olive ‘Ali smokin’ trees
Bulldoze rubble’s life on knees
Shoot some pool? Red pool from shot.
rotten luck or fetid rot?
I’m starving and
I’ll die of thirst
we too condensed
we gonna burst

thirst and rot are synonyms
wit’ solemn hymns and piping rims

tough as nails and prison shanks
nextdoor jails and rocks and tanks

infirmity with gritty cough
forty seven Kalashnikov

hope and bones and dreamy sun
melting, smoking, bitterfun
hyperbole
is on the run

.........................................................................................................................................................................

True writers are solipsistic.

Always searching, they rummage through pounds of literature and burn their eyes on black ink, developing an uncanny resistance to papercuts like a dark shaft to a diamond miner’s calluses.

True writers are recognized at their local bookstores, scouring shelf after shelf and purchasing books which are tenuously connected at best. The employees often huddle in hushed discussion (there’s always that interesting tension in bookstores. It’s not quite a library, so the rule of tranquility doesn’t necessarily dictate the place, but it seems to implicitly emerge when voices are raised) about the true writers’ purchases, trying to piece together whether the true writer is a communist or a libertarian; a Buddhist or an existentialist; a lover or a fighter.

The edges of a True Writer’s library cards are worn into round, whitewashed skidmarks and every visit is frantic and ostensibly aimless.

The true writer’s relationship with prose is an infinite meander.

Then, hypnotized by a pale light staring into their faces, they wildly immerse themselves in the beautiful realization (a guilty pleasure, a nighttime addiction) that what they’re looking for is rapidly being created under their frenzied fingertips.

It has yet to be written.

........................................................................................................................................................................

In other news: Jay Z is the new Hammarabi, ‘cause around 1780 BCE, Hammarabi coined our favorite commandment of nomadic justice: “An eye for an eye, a leg for a leg, an arm for an arm…” Jigga provided an eloquent update: “Now if you shoot my dog, I'ma kill yo' cat/Just the unwritten laws in rap - know dat”

Mos definitely. 

9 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

it's been too damn long. i was wondering where the hell you were throwing the words out in your brain.

8:45 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

why do you praise jay z so much?

10:10 AM  
Blogger Khaadim al Insaniya said...

Why do YOU praise jay z enough to skip commentary on everything else?

2:09 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Obviously, the rest of your work is not worthy of commentary...

The name "Jay-Z" was the only thing that truly stood out.

=)

9:36 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No, not "mos definitely"---
The cat didn't do anything, so why should it suffer for its owner's mistake?

2:04 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

It's a trend nowadays to acquire trim and match bodies.

my web site: Skip Navigation

9:40 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

With the personal Bowflex program, you are able to move amongst doing exercises diverse elements of the physique
with relieve, and at your own private speed.


my web site ... Learn More

12:57 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Together with the Bowflex property gymnasium you need to use the angled lat bar that
is delivered to operate your shoulders and lats.



Feel free to surf to my site www.getfitnstrong.com

7:23 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

During another 2 years, I actually let myself go and did not considerably
treatment to obtain again in the swing of factors.

Look at my web site ... http://www.getfitnstrong.com/adjustable-dumbbells/

12:05 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home