Archive for the ‘Slam’ Category


Posted: April 11, 2011 in Anger, Dark, Life, Musings, Rant, Slam, Thoughts, Ugly

Don’t you dare fucking think
for a moment that I’ll take
self-pity street! I drink
criticism straight, no chaser; fake
ME out, you say? You can try and fail,
overly polite disrespecting sonofabitch!
I’m resplendent with skill to nail
words deep into your brain, invisible itch!
Ain’t no reason I should be rejected thrice,
you hardly even know me! Your unfeelin’
collection of faceless masks ice
cold left your souls reelin’
deep in a snowfall that left you numb
to the plainest spoken word.
Now nurse your broken jaw makin’ you dumb,
maybe you should’ve taken a second or third
look at the letters so carelessly tossed aside,
makin’ a nice guy turn mean!
I’m a reject and it hurts my pride deep inside
that place kept clean
by creative construction that let me function
day to day with my failures adorned on my chest
as body armor for the fools hidin’ at every junction!
I accept I ain’t perfect but as for all the rest
you’re damn morons unable to see my vision!
And it won’t be long again before the pen hits paper
and again my faithful words will be arisen,
I’ll turn your fill-in-the-blank letter to vapor!
Don’t! for my own fucking sake
be the snake takin’ words out of my throat
before I can make a debut and slake
my thirst for written word, you can quote
me on it! And I say this for every time
I look on and smile at the red-pen pretender gods
making slashes through masterpieces sublime
when they never had the time to see through the facade
that they think is all bad but it ain’t, I know it’s good,
and I don’t give a FUCK if it ain’t understood!


I can see the devil’s apprentice, a man with buzz-cut gray hair and long thin sideburns. Tattoos snake up and down his arms like twisting wires and his fingertips grind against the steel chords of his midnight guitar. The slim spectacles glinting on his nose conceal nothing as he pours his soul into the strumming and plucking of strings.
On either side of the devil’s apprentice stand two with instruments of gold clutched in their gifted claws. A saxophone, a trumpet, they squeal and stamp their song into the crowd. They are red in the face, mouths bulging with fire and brimstone. Their fingers tap out the whirling crescendos that dazzle and blind before they lay their weapons to rest.
The devil’s apprentice grins now; a tongue of flame escapes from his maw.
The roiling undercurrent of sound that pulses beneath guitar licks and snares and shrieks can not only be heard but felt as a wild-haired demon kisses his thick strings with steady fingertips. He stoically stands, a sharp contrast to the devil’s apprentice, a solitary and silent companion to the intense threads of fire issuing from the midnight guitar and the golden ones. His bass guitar is obsidian and sharp angles rimmed with white gold.
Behind the four black and white imps lies a master of rhythm in steady repose. One two three four, he sets the tone and pulls puppet strings like he controls their every move with his shining beats. He flicks the drumsticks across his set of tightly drawn skin and hard bone, he relaxes. He can feel the power behind his staccato beats and thumping rhythm.
The devil’s apprentice still bares his teeth in a grotesque fashion, a maniacal smile.
He laughs.
He laughs and drops the guitar pick to the ground and unleashes a new wave of sound and pounds away at the crowd with dancing tapping springing fingertips.
The devil’s apprentice is slowing, swaying from side to side. He slows, he relaxes.
He stops.
And the crowd bows low as the Devil’s apprentice swings his arms high.


Posted: July 15, 2008 in City, Electric, Humor, Life, Musings, Rant, Slam, Snippet, Urban

I remember the first time
I met you, with crazy ragged hair
And bloodshot blue eyes
Concealed behind dirty lenses
I can’t recall all you said
Those two, three years ago
But it made me laugh my ass off
Your outlandish tales of sex and drugs met
With my doubtful acceptance
I met you your senior year, and for
A long while after, you fell off
Of the radar, only reestablishing
Contact at the most random of times
Eager to entertain, you would launch into a
Monologue that always began with
“Dude, you won’t believe the
Shit that happened last night.”
But believe I did, no matter
The premise, no matter how full of shit
You might have been
I remember these tales of everything
That happened “last night”
I remember the iconic bat story,
Where you wandered, stoned, through tunnels
Beneath the streets, and encountered a
Swarm of bats, one of which nestled on your
Back for three or four hours before
You finally found out about it
I remember the time you combined
A few hits of Salvia with a five-hour energy drink
And took a “spirit walk” through Ojai’s
Streets as Bo Diddley spoke
To you with his songs
I remember the time you
Were walking through the mall
With a bag of candy from the Sweet Factory
You saw this asshole pushing his
Girlfriend around close to the edge
Of a balcony high above the first floor
And you beat the shit out of
That motherfucker with assorted
Jelly beans and licorice and Skittles
In a brilliant display before
Mall security was hot on your tail
Over these last two, three years you’ve been
A friend, a jokester, a partner in crime, a juxtaposition
To my boring self
But most of all you have been
A randomly occurring constant,
A stable variable,
A guy that can discuss film and literature and
Seriously contemplate the moral issues raised in Grand Theft Auto
And I never can wait for your crazy eyes
To see something new and tell me
“Dude, you won’t believe the
Shit that happened last night.”