blue bayou

holy moley, it's hump day.
terrential downpour,
thank you very much katrina.
thinking about heading down to the bayou to do some demolition work.
i hear the poisonous snakes are pretty rough around those parts,
but,
that's what mechades and forty-fives were made for.

snakekiller,
out this piece.

deditos

say something

shout out

mitzee- lurve ya

word to the wise

im being hacked
my privacy has been invaded.
imperial troops have entered the base,
but......

im not worried about some lame who thinks they have a glimpse into my life through just one of the many accounts i have. (althoughmyfavoriteaccount).

im also not concerned about what they think they know-

im only concerned about their safety.
that's right,
your safety, my little im buddy.

see, i'm the type of guy who doesn't let things rest, you know, dig and dig untill the truth is uncovered.
so, while you think you're slick, or whatever, i'll bide my time.
remain calm, and cool, just like the pimp i am, (imsureyouknowthatbymye-mails).

know this though.
you're a limy little IT geek, and i'm a pitbull waiting to bite.

like i said, your safety.

close to home

jumped off rocks instead of going to class. bad me.

twenty-five feet in the air, calm water below.
even higher cliffs nearby. huge air time and too much fun.

new spot for hanging out and debauchery.

nature rules.

sunday blues

contemplated going to church,
need to feel spiritual again

instead,
i watched black exploitation movies on local cable,
and cleaned house,
x-men style.
clash, clash, (claws extending).

ever heard of the fish that saved pittsburgh?
how about puddintang?

clean floors and cultural diversity...
spiritual o no?

ending to a three part series(fin)

morris's head throbbed immediately. he had to focus. right now he was laying on top of two dead men, and about to be number three. focus man.
"i'm tired of your goody goody shit. " eugene cocked his gun, emphasizing the situation.
"give money to that old hag of boz's. that's not acceptaple. she'll just have to make due."
the fat man started circling the hole, gun lowered towards the last obstacle standing in between him and retirement. no more bosses, no more shitty cuts, one bullet and nobody else even had a clue.
"you've never been selfish, eugene." morris had to save his ass, quick. "you've always been cool with boz, so, i just thought...
"you thought wrong." the big man smiled at the thought of his new sailboat, being on the lake, and tons of food. one more cut.
"don't do this bud. we don't have to give his share away. i'll understand if you're not cool with that. whatever you want." morris was inching away from the pistol in front of him, and suddenly felt another jab into his back. lucky.
"think about what you're doing, man. we're friends." he was now within reaching distance of the gun on luck's chest holster. an old thirty-eight his grandfather had given him.
"i am, now turn over."
slowly, morris turned over, pulling the gun from the dead man's holster. face to face with lucky. that shovel fucked him up, bad.

"can i ask you one more thing, face to face, you fat fuck?"
"you got balls morris, i always said that. what is it?"

part two

"i told him not to call me fat, you heard me morris. plaese don't be pissed, i didn't mean to kill em." morris looked down into the rather large hole that this rather large man was standing in. next to the massive figure layed his best friend, and his safe-man. such a waste of talent, morris thought to himself. how did this job get so out of control? "boss."
"yeah eugene?"
"you're not going to kill me, are you?" morris looked at this man, so huge and sweaty, and now scared that his boss would find it easier to leave him in this hole.
"climb on out, you fucking lummox." morris grabbed the big man's sweaty hand, and pulled hard.
"it's just us, huh morris." eugene wiped his brow with his oversized t-shirt. "more money for us."

"were giving boz's share to his wife." morris spoke plainly and clearly, so there could be no interpretation. not an order, so much, as a fact.
"a third goes to boz's family."

"boz is dead morris, and so is lucky. what about lucky."
"you killed lucky, fats, so if he needs money for anything, it comes out of your pocket. and he doesn't have a family, boz does." morris was determined to do at least one thing right this job, even it it was late in the game.
"i don't care about his family, and we weren't all buddy buddy like you guys were. were splitting the money in half, morris."
"what happen to boss, you miserable prick? and yes, were giving boz's share to his wife. he was killed on the job, so he still get's paid. final fucking say, no disputes, let's go."

the large man looked at the ground, and then back at morris. morris was only five foot something, and at least two hundred pounds lighter than eugene, and both thes thoughts were crossing the big man's mind. also, the money was only a hundred feet away in the trunk, and there was a lot of it. one way is better than splitting it in half, and fuck three ways. that's only four hundred g's a piece. eugene thought hard, and made a decision.
"hey morris." the smaller man turned around and caught a huge right hand across his jaw.
he looked up at the fat man who now held a gun above him. "you should have been more flexible, morris."

d's list

the shortwave set-"is it any wonder"

awesome song and set
highly recommended

heady as heck

first one's free

part one

thick fog and dense moonlight hid the faces involved in this late night meeting of the minds.
twice before had they met, but this time there was money involved. no one acted so, but a definate tension filled the air.
"what's the cut?" a fat man in a sheer blazer and and high cut pants moved side to side as he spoke, breathing heavily.
"three ways you dumb ass. there are three of us." a snarl curled around a lucky strike. "you shouldn't think fatty."
"don't call me fat, rico."
"what do you think morris?" morris leaned against the el dorado. "this motherfucker fa?"

"duna." morris scratched his head, thinking about the real task at hand. "don't really care, about now."

they had known each other for years now. always did jobs together. family men trapped into professions not suited to their lives. now, here he was, burying his friend.
"move that shovel fat ass." lucky strike flew through the air and landed on the rather large man.
"i told you not to call me fat," and with that the rather large man swung the shovel at the owner of the lucky strike, striking him at an odd angle, and sticking it into his head.
"fat fu...oh." the man fell,
and the the cut just got bigger.

we know where you live

her careers include real estate agent, bengal cheerleader, and dog whisperer. go bengals. bet we make the playoffs y'all, with or without ms. sherri the dog whisperer

i couldn't remember my dreams for so long.
recently, michael myers visited me.

you all know mike- from halloween

well, mikey decide to mess with me, (couldn't make this shit up),
and,
i wasn't scared.

seriously,
i gave this dude the fight of his life.
totally cutting him up.

awoke by loud noise
and grabbed the mechade

couldn't make this shit up

meet with legal begal,
hoping for the best

a professor just told me ther are three ways to deal with obsticles
ignore them, get upset by them,

or just love them.

give the fans what they want, teach.

i slack because i care

totally got class all week
still making up work from last week.

so why do i feel the urge to blow off society and responsibility, once again.
maybe it's me being all alone this week, and i'm not used to being alone,
and my dog refuses to talk to me. (why i even feed her ass, you got me.)

or possibly because i cut my fingers off two months ago,
and, since i haven't worked in two months, been drinking cheap beer. (it's depressing.)

or possibly the fact that i'm just a slacker, and need to get my shit together.

or do i?

power trips

"excuse me sir, there is no food or drink allowed."
"thank you, i'm aware."
"sir, could you need to take your drink outside?"
"it's not a drink, it's an empty cup."
"ooh. you need to put the cup in a locker then."
yeah, hopping right on that.
"sir...."
"ma'm, aren't you the same person that was eating a bearclaw while typing yesterday?"

"please put the cup under your seat."

venus fell out of the sky

i can see back in time,
predicting the future with confidence and humility.

i can mend, repair, or demolish and rebuild anything, untill greatness is achieved.
never once asking for assistance,
or gratuity.

i walk alone,
years upon years,
pacing circles amongst circles i've spun over time.

i hope for the best and prepare for the worst,
a contradiction embedded into my mind.

do you feel like i do

walked out into the population this morning, and did not like it.
messenger on a bike, trying hard to be kevin bacon from the movie quicksilver, almost clipped my van while weaving through traffic. not only did i scream at him, but drove behind him for two blocks screaming at him, before realizing how ridiculous i seemed.
i pulled off into a mcdonalds, only to realize that my wallet was nowhere around me. no soup for me.
my bed never seemed so appealing, all day nap.

proceeded to explain quantum physics to me

freaky friday

i got one good hand, there's no denying that. one good hand to strangle your ass.
watched texas chainsaw massacre, (the new one), and couldn't help but send leatherface over to see you.
see, me and him got this agreement. i laugh at his jokes and invite him in for beers some time, and he knocks off crazy, emotionally shallow girls who try their best to fuck me over.
kind of a good friend that way.
don't fuck with the gimp baby.

mind scape

i come home dirty
minded
you're there , standing
smiling
nothing but a t-shirt

burning candles
pronounce soft curves

i've waited so long

carefull fingers explore far away lands
so welcoming,
so sweet
shangralah

parched, swaying
arched and coyly smiling at me
the thrill shakes my being
echoing down my legs

we collapse laughing
and you kiss my hand

tenderly playfull

what does it all mean

fifteen till' one.
shit, ten minutes.

"un cerveza mas, por favor."
"yo d, you do know we are in ohio, right." always the party pooper this guy.
"you might be in ohio, but my transcending ass is in the islands." i inform him in my best jamaican accent, which i hear sounds alot like my indian and middle eastern accent.
"you drunk monkey, you're on a bar stool in appleby's." another party pooper.
"sup dude," dap, dap, "lemme buy the interstellar traveler another shot of the usual,"
c always shows to buy me a shot just as i'm leaving. "i'll take one too."
"who's car is parked in the curbside pick up spot?"
"what's it look like," i inquire.
"like your's, buddy." sweet waitress girl gives me a hug
"you forgot to dress your girl," she points to my tattoo, again. "when are you going to buy her some clothes?"
"when you stop using that cheesy come-on line."
"it would work any day of the week, and you know it. you love me."
"i'd love it if you ran your drinks." bartender interupts the ongoing flirting.

ten minutes passed ten minutes ago.

"yes, yes, let's reschedule for tommorrow."

everybody needs a break
a little siesta from the everyday grind.

maybe one or two days where you turn off your phone and pretend to be non-existent.

or a week of binge drinking, oreo eating, and general debauchery.
you've gotta come back sometime.

probably when your physical therapist asks you how much you've had to drink during an afternoon session.

just a few my dear, just a few.

walk about

if i could change my name, i would call myself the big ragu.
and if you ever adressed me, it would be as mr big, or mr. ragu
that being said..

i've noticed lately a wave of depression setting across the street i live on, and,
like some foul creature searching for more rotted flesh to nibble,
the dark wave of misery has stretched it's full belly across my mat, hoping to warm itself in my glow.

only,
this time,
i didn't welcome him.

as silly as it seems, i had become oddly fond of miseries visits.
fed into the agony,
building one great ball of misery we could share till,
alas,
misery would up and leave.
and i would be stuck,
not only with wounded spirit, but undue baggage unloaded and heaped onto
my shoulders.
some great weight being shifted into a more precarious position.

no,
this time grief was shooed off of my steps,
asked not to return,
and given a stern look as he turned to wave goobye.

hard to do, believe me.

we're old friends.

playing at a rib-shack near you

super sounds of funk and hot guitar licks- can't offer either, but i can promise loud noise and screaming. i'll be the guy on the microphone playing the guitar with one hand.

accepting groupies now.
better sign-up before i blow-up.

salis's head just blew

no sleep because of pain in hand, kids up at six. breakfast at mc-d's- $8.99

five hours of midterm exams and six pink lemonades- $7.50

gas and dinner because i'm too tired to cook- $18.00

burning down and drowning myself in the tub- priceless

shot down in flames

i've found ms. right, and she's sitting directly across from me.
what's that, you couldn't help notice me staring. well, i just can't help myself. your beauty is breathtakin..

what?

you are huh? oh ms. right, that's ok. i'm not the jealous type. she can come along too.

well excuse me then, only trying to be polite.

find your happy place

light can be found in the darkest of places
sharp dressed vampires leading the way
perils of soul swapping suddenly apparent
prices vary based on need

voodoo economics

ghetto wars 2

"my dog can kick your dog's ass."
a little kid who should be in school is flagging me down.
"hey-hey. my dog can kick your dog's ass."
"great kid. gotta go."
"want to fight them?"
his dog is couped in a cage in a thrashed compost of a yard- emaciated.
"you should feed him first. gotta go."

ten feet later

"your dog's a punk, your dog's a punk."

i love kids.

ghetto wars

nothing beats coming home from a long road trip to find that some one has tried to break into your house. on top of that, they were novices who had neither the tools, nor the know-how, to achieve success. the only thing their were able to do was cut up the wood and break a little piece of the glass, causing work to the landlord, or tennent who gets tired of waiting for a little security.