maintenance required.

poor kay. i sincerely wish she never ever has to go through that again. ever. life is experience and sometimes maintenance is required.

loveukay.

clouded clarity. sick. wired yet tired. compare that of course to the life of a dog. marley just sits there and rips into his disney turtle, he runs arounds, pees on things, hops and licks anything and everything. hes a puppy. fun.

middle child.

Yearn for freedom but to scared to be truly free, we have become automated response machines, doing what we are told whilst placing creativity on hold
Following paths and routes paved in by the soles of drones that march incessantly to the beat of their owner’s drums, for mediocre sums
Numb motivation with a lifeless expression, their dreams replace yours, while the hour glass switch from doles to pours to too late.
Our lives for hire, we are cars with no tires, so were not going anywhere, except back to our stations to bask in the glare as we stare endlessly into our personal windows with no walls, just unfortunate that its found in the room with no exits.
Continued search for the climax, meaning & the glory... just another day in the life of a middle child of history.

venting.

everyday concerns w/moving forward/ no time to breathe / less time to take steps back/ roses remain as scenery no seconds to relax/ constantly on search for things life lacks/ cut me some slacks in my slacks / performing office tricks just to get my greenbacks back/ so i can burn some green and accept living within my means/ in a system designed to chase another mans dream while yours remains a dream/ grinding daily surviving on the ashy knuckles of our life just looking for some C.R.E.A.M./ and some sort of fine linning, a clue, a hint of something bigger to come/ itoo want to live the "good life" and momma says i can do it, reciting to me many words of the wise, but living in these times words just wont suffice/ they say seeing is believing then i must have closed my eyes/ lid upon the canister of our goals/ limitations to the expression of our soul / shackled down creativity/ watered down reality/ as the beast incorporates our being into the capital motivated machine of corporations/ routine is the slave master of contemporary times that dulls our sights and clouds our vision so we have an obstructed view of our goal and a front row seat to distraction/we need it because it defines "me"/ in form of raw denim jeans, track jackets, and nikes/ not definition/ submission / slave away for a pay check to issue checks payed to the order of nike & every other conglomerate so we join every one else in the category/ is it hypocrisy that i write this in Air Max 90s?/ or instead of studying i rather get bent /maybe i just voicing my frustration trying to find improvement as i let smoke through my vent.

riddle me this...

strange thoughts of strangers cots put the strangest knots in my relationship plots
constant search for loves warm embrace, common ground, understanding or is it the challenge and the chase?
that makes a lovers look about face and re-think the time, pace and space being used or spent
all for someones love to rent
with the most honest of intent but still too disatisfied to be content
its only human to see something you dont have and feel like your missing out
but should it be an everyday bout with yourself as you continue to convince yourself thats its not all about self
while placing people on pedestals or on shelves
emptying your soul on lines of paper and computer keyboards to the point where all thats left is a mere shell
shadow of a man
i want to be the artist not the fan, the painter not the canvas
i dont know if its the desire to impress or the desire to be desired
if lifes climax is death then do people go to work to be fired? fall in love to get hurt?
buy into the philosophy that tradegy inspires, like how the rose that grew from concrete is stronger than that from the dirt
if love at first sight is as true as its feeling
then what happens to that love when second sight start seeing?

distractions.

my hands paint whats in my mindscape, trying to alleviate the stress, convince myself im bless, or at least better off than most, not trying to boast just trying to appeal to my better sense, im trying not to take plays off or settle always swinging for the fence, so is it wrong of me to cut short this song and not prolong the things going wrong, when i said "we can spend a slow forever" i meant we can two step to the same beat, but change is a hard thing to beat, especially when u get tired of being on your feet and decide we can get "too comfortable", thats the type of thinking made the last "one" portable, im not trying to collect a past thats assortable, things like that just happen, when i spoke of us, i spoke of tr-us-t, others brought up a fuss and it all became about envy and lust, and i stay never being jealous, Jay told me that was a female trait, make no mistake i attempt to calculate every step i take weigh out the positives and negatives keep an open mind and stay subjective, but people cant help the way they feel, im trying to keep my mind on an even keel, even when memories of the past come back trying to heal i just keep moving, i need to focus on text books not texts and hooks, need to figure out how to make out like a crook instead of wondering about who shes talking to on her myspace and facebook, i need to go on and find that missing component, stop living in memories, man up and realize perfection last but a moment.

just thinking.

writing just to write, speaking from my mind through my pen record my insight, constantly on search for the light, escaping through words trying to loose baggage, i find solice in my element and project expression through my verbige, living hell or heaven, depends on the perspective, if the constant state is bad then it must have been good retroactive or vice versa, working progressively forward ignoring inertia, taking steps on stepping stones while stepping through stones, aching back bones, tired wish i was retired, so much resistance form this constant tug-o-war,got me stuck in the same space not getting toofar, life takes money, money takes life, i try to stay sharp but lately my blades been a dull knife,stabs for capital, lifes a battle indeed a beautiful struggle, were all 6 feet and under in the end, yet we continue to pretend, break and amend, if its all the same whats the purpose of creating a name or a legacy, am i that vain that even when ive passed i need you to speak of me, maybe, but for what thousands of greats have passed all for muck, lincoln freed the slaves but nodody is truely free,civil war has ended yet still theres death on our streets, from our guns and our bullets, seems as if nobody really cares, ammuniton , fuel for hatred when we spray is the only thing were willing to share, me takes care of me,govt takes care of them, i try to lend a hand"but your taking the whole arm my man", drowning in my pints of hops and barley, sitting, waiting in vain like marley , these thoughts to myself, my soliloquy.

copy and paste.

Just a bunch of copy and paste,

Sad how the world is in so much turmoil, everyday people dying and getting sick, but all these lemmings care about are jean brands and kicks, bunch of copy and paste vultures laying waste to a cultures future, for some nikes and new sutures that’s suppose to define you, funny part is it does, your definition is one of a false allegation, this isn’t you this is who you pretend be.
Hip hop?
No hip pop.
how do you feel being as real as a Louis Vuitton purse from chinatown?

kobs.

"Last night he broke the defense down with haiku, tonight he's ballin' to the sound of sestina."t.v.

making clouds just by breathing he says...

Break it down, roll it up, give it a flare then throw it in the air.

He sees the world in rewind, utilizes most everything that he finds. Mad scientist of life trying to conjure up the right chemical mix to get the proper fix. Dons a lab coat and some air max 90s, old Levis faded, everything calculated. No gold on his wrist just a watch that’s a calculator, master debater, keeping blunt tips on Bunsen burners, he makes clouds just by breathing, awake when he sleeps but never sleeps when he’s awake, wolverine animal instincts with a spider sense that keep things anticipated, eyes dilated, probably on a magic trip, maybe you couldn’t tell by the words coming from his lips but don’t listen too intently its probably heresy, sometimes talking out of his ass is where he plays, you can listen to his advice but that’s where you gamble, might be kind of lit, that’s when he rambles. Nice guy but kind of an asshole, hater but distributes props properly if you’re a “right move” maker. Dude looks like a square, but mentality holds no shape, versatile in his abilities even in his red eye state, inner villain trying to get out and fly, mind control, confusing, illogical Jedi or sith depending if you meet the hero or the villain underneath, never mask a smile but what’s the smile hiding, careful how you thread don’t want him to catch you sliding, he’ll let you know he don’t care, just comb it to the side no products in his hair. Kids kind of crazy just observe how his thoughts flow, not a “know it all’ he just knows what you don’t know.

Ash it, burn it to the tip and monster mash it.

Why is it so hard to just be alone? By yourself. Just you and your element. Why is that we feel we need that other person to “complete” us. By definition alone the “other person” will literally never complete “us” since it’s a whole other person! Yet here we are raping earth on our off time scouring for the other half to our whole, mate for our soul, the muse for our genius, that one vagina to rewire the mind of your penis, even though all is possible with just us. Of course all of this is coming from a serial monogamist who jumps from one situation to another, leap frogging from one venture to the next. Perplexed by the reason, is it the pheromones in the air or is it the season, that makes your life a mission for a conquest that’s not really that epic yet you depict it as life changing when you didn’t really change your outfit you just altered it. “You are who you were before you got hair…” is it true? Is it just a toupee, pay to play, you take the right and I take whats left? Soooo you take the moon and ill take the sun…when the sun rises the moon should go down, compromise of a lovesick clown all to prevent boredom and a frown, loneliness and a scowl, a cold shower and a towel…

pc

speaking truth through a conduit of an alter ego, smiles and hellos hide the inner thoughts of the sociopath that lays inside and grows, ideas are fed from the voices in his head, empty thoughts and hollow words from peers being recieved with a masked smile and a deaf ear, one cannot succumb to the dance of the dumb because of uncertainty and fear, go against the grain even if it brings pain, one will be driven crazy to the daily life of the "sane", you know what they say about all work and no play, may make your pocket fatter as you turn into the mad hatter, living life not as meant but instead do whats needed to accquire funds to be spent, so we could keep up and stay bent,thats how we get fucked, if enviroment truly does dictate the need, then i need to move to a farm with flowers and weed(s), lakes, nature and trees, i do not need material to validate my existence, i need freedom for my inner masked villain this instance, i need to erase the "alter" from the alter ego because where he leads is where my mind follows, true freedom is an idea, be careful of what you say, always think before you speak, some cannot handle truth and are condemned by the sheep, we as a people have been programmed.

lets light an L, sip on a brew and do those things that make you YOU.

the sun is shinning and life is fun happiness is not always a warm gun.

smile, theres always tommorow.

im sleepy. -)

another day, another battle, another co-worker with a rattle, another argument about this, that and the third, hurtful comments , pain through nouns, adjectives and verbs, nothing solved, no ground gained, instead hurtful memories brought up by one supposed to be a teammate.

life is unfair and people dont really care unless it affects their stomach, pocket book and/or hair. pseudo hellos, and the facade of intrest makes one detest the everyday office experience.

so step into my office, stay awhile, dress in style and feign a smile.

have a nice day.

routine.

routines are the slave master of contemporary times. confined daily to a schedule we must adhere to simply to survive in this corporate ran concrete jungle. office politics along with office poli-tricks, slacks and collars around our necks, no ball and chain around our feet, instead our souls are shackled. 40 hours a week we chase their dreams while ours lay in slumber. daydreams of random escapades pave routes for my minds escape vicariously living through my mindscape. i sit and stare in front of my electronic window with no walls downloading with envy the next mans adventure, things i would rather do with my office tenure. searching for the working class cure, one must remember those who shall conquer must endure.