Anger is a gift

Come on!
Uggh!

Come on, although ya try to discredit
Ya still never edit
The needle, I'll thread it
Radically poetic
Standin' with the fury that they had in '66
And like E-Double I'm mad
Still knee-deep in the system's shit
Hoover, he was a body remover
I'll give ya a dose
But it'll never come close
To the rage built up inside of me
Fist in the air, in the land of hypocrisy

Movements come and movements go
Leaders speak, movements cease
When their heads are flown
'Cause all these punks
Got bullets in their heads
Departments of police, the judges, the feds
Networks at work, keepin' people calm
You know they went after King
When he spoke out on Vietnam
He turned the power to the have-nots
And then came the shot

Yeah!
Yeah, back in this...
Wit' poetry, my mind I flex
Flip like Wilson, vocals never lackin' dat finesse
Whadda I got to, whadda I got to do to wake ya up
To shake ya up, to break the structure up
'Cause blood still flows in the gutter
I'm like takin' photos
Mad boy kicks open the shutter
Set the groove
Then stick and move like I was Cassius
Rep the stutter step
Then bomb a left upon the fascists
Yea, the several federal men
Who pulled schemes on the dream
And put it to an end
Ya better beware
Of retribution with mind war
20/20 visions and murals with metaphors
Networks at work, keepin' people calm
Ya know they murdered X
And tried to blame it on Islam
He turned the power to the have-nots
And then came the shot

Uggh!
What was the price on his head?
What was the price on his head!


I think I heard a shot
I think I heard a shot
I think I heard a shot
I think I heard a shot
I think I heard a shot
I think I heard, I think I heard a shot

'He may be a real contender for this position should he
abandon his supposed obedience to white liberal doctrine
of non-violence...and embrace black nationalism'
'Through counterintelligence it should be possible to
pinpoint potential trouble-makers...And neutralize them, 
neutralize them, neutralize them'

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!
Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

How long? Not long, cause what you reap is what you sow

Give a dumb drunk animal a home.

If you are a staunch feminist with who has had your sense of humor surgically removed don't watch this, there is nothing for you here! 

Sail Away

I was thinking today that there were a lot of people who sent me cards and letters and gifts while I was in the hospital and I have yet to properly thank you guys for thinking of me.  If  you gave me something during my hospital stay or helped orchestrate anything like that, allow me to thank you now. I don't remember much about that time and I don't want to be remiss in giving you all at least a blanket thank you. And to everyone else concerned. I was about to come unglued back then thinking each day was going to be my last and any sign from those on the outside that I was still in the land of the living was a breath of fresh air that kept the walls from closing in on me. Thanks.

MULDERFAN !!!

MF This is the best I can do on short notice

Or is does this suit your tastes?

Weak little two-faced shallow little bullshit punk cuntface mean little bully bitch

There you go sweet talking me again you friggin psycho.

What shall we useTo fill the empty spacesWhere we used to talk?How shall I fill the final places?How should I complete the wall?

Do you want to know a secret?

Listen.
 do you want to know a secret?
oo ooo ooo
Do you promise not to tell?
 whoa oh oh
Closer.
 let me whisper in your ear.
 Say the words you long to hear.

Mumford and Sons suck  ohh ohh ohh
I've known a secret for a week or two



Dane Cook does too.

 

After the thrill is gone.

Mama don't allow no skiffle around here

For Ruth

Got sixteen days
One for everytime I've gone away
One for every time I should have stayed
should have worn my wedding ring
Got sixteen days fifteen of those are nights
Can't sleep when the bedsheet fights
It's way back to your side.
Well the ghost has got me running
The ghost has got me running

Well the ghost has got me running
The ghost has got me running

Away from you away from you
away
Yeah the ghost has got me running away from you
away from you
got sixteen days got a bottle and a rosary God I wish you were close to me
cause I owe you an apology

Got sixteen days fifteen of those are nights
Can't sleep when the bedsheet fights
It's way back to your side.


 The ghost has got me running
The ghost has got me running
Away from you away from you
away
Yeah the ghost has got me running away from you
away from you away
old tin cups
little paper dolls
all wrapped up
in ribbons bows and hearts

old tin cups
and little paper dolls
all wrapped up
in the rhythm of your heart
I got 16 days
16 days
16 days It's like a fool I am

The Immortal Barbarian.

The first requisite to immortality is death

What people still tell me if I confide in them about the totally berserk person that was my mother, is not to worry she is getting her comeuppance on the "other side" Yet if I was to present a Karmic timeline of events  that have occurred since her death I could make a convincing case of just the opposite. She dies and I get notified by mail months after the fact in the citation about the petition from my ex wife with her presenting my mothers will in probate  the will that left everything to her. And before I have time to digest it all, I am afflicted with a brain event that affected the same  areas, in me, that my mother's stroke did in her. And now doctors are checking me head to toe to document the effect that decades of being rode hard and put up wet  had on my body, hard living done as a maladjusted coping mechanism to forget  the freak show that I sprang  from  now I will  receiving scientific analysis confirming what used to be a bunch of idle yammering about me and what a brain damaged old worn out fuck up I am/was, who even as a youth could not be trusted to believe what he saw with his own two eye's. It's as if after a lifetime of foisting evil and senseless acts on her family she has received her wings in heaven and has been appointed the over seer and perpetrator of my early demise. I logically know this is all impossible, that she is mouldering in a grave across town and pushing up daisies. But  the paranoia in me is hard to contain when the trajectory of my life since her death has dovetailed so nicely with what she would have done to me if she could have gotten those bony fingers on me one last time.