Poem: Antioxidants

We were young but we were plastered
We hadn't yet mastered
The art of going after
The girl that we want
Or the goal that we see
Swinging in the wind
Just outside your reach
Clench your fist make will to clasp your dreams
Like you're last man standing and they killed your team
Gotta get on up out the house out the city
Make a bitty, go and make a young girl pretty
Pretty hot sexy  what's that mean what's that say?
Ratchet cust skanky whatchu braying out today?
Take another shot, put on tv, never stop
Eating bullshit sucking more dick watching panties drop
Motherfucker realize that you're not yourself
Hang that faggot in your room with your dad's belt
Recreate the revolution that gave us our freedom
Cause they taking it from us through IV don't feed em
The monster's grown already we can't kill it cant stop it
The bigger they are the harder they fall, on that topic
Where do they fall, if they the size of countries
How many get crushed for us to make our dreams
No just rip the chord, house this necessary evil
In the kennel outside, leashed, be don cheadle
Make the terror your bitch, use to create again
Until it's small enough that its starved life just ends
The violent rapist that infested the general population
That reaped more devastation
Than civil wars tear nations
That shat on more livelihoods
Than pidgeons in rich neighborhoods
That ignored more misery than a subway through the inner city
Or better yet the urban youth
The universally known and forgotten truth
That the more you have the more you have to lose
So to keep your swag safe you descend to recluse
Into the gated community where all you see
Is the community watch telling you you're free
And surveillance van saying it's not for you
It's for trespassers getting near your kids school
Don't fool yourself into thinking you they protect and serve
When the law they uphold they tend to swerve
And write and rewrite as they see just
And all complainers are just making a fuss
It's a brave new world
And these bastards get braver
Every day they reinforce that we're givers they're takers
Till one day we realize we're their spies
And we're also the boogeyman that comes at night
They make thought the boogeyman that comes at night.
~ Prophit

Comedy: Dick Diaries

Hows it going hows it going, nice crowd tonight.
Im gonna keep the material light, keep it funny tonight, nothing too mature or dirty. Alright alright.
So have you noticed how most nouns we use to describe how cool something is does not work for describing a penis?
Lets start off with the easy ones.
-My dick is HOT!
-ey man I dont need to know you got crabs or something

-My dick is DOPE!
-So what, you got like a limp dick? It's white and powdery? Crack heads love it?

-nah nigga my dick is the shit!
-so like, did you not clean up after anal or... are you implying your penis is an actual literal piece of frozen turd. Cause like, the shape works, ill give you that but... its a bit unsanitary.

-No no b, My dick is off, tha, chain.
-What the hell?! What kind of fetishist are you motherfucker?

-nah homes, my dick is off tha hook!
-the fuck did I just say

-ey man, My dick is tight!
Hey man, what, like your foreskin?
Nah man, like my dick is tight butthole!
K im done.
No no that was me, im done with that segment of the set. Off to something a bit more, classy.
Now the slang you CAN use to describe your dick boys, is this. And ladies, my beautiful ladies, dont think ive forgotten the vagina. Y'all can use any of the above and your guy will like it, hot, dope, rad, off the hook, mad, tight butthole.

so yeah, guys, dont use descriptive nouns, use adjectives plus something.
My dick is mad thick, my dick is bare long, my dick is wicked huge. See?
I should start a show or something, just call it "Reading Dickbro"

Essay: On Black

What a brilliant colour black is. What an imperceptibly magnificent rarity this deficiency is. The absence. The lack thereof. The definition of the abyss, of the eternity which rests beneath the surface of impenetrable opaqueness. Truly, the very definition of black is that which absorbs all light, all brightness and luminosity and candlelight and leaves you in a world in which only your mind exists. That which eats up all those rays hoping to lay a blanket of brightness over the unseen, give vision to the blind; hoping to expand and put forth an image of variance and texture and size, saturation and a whole spectrum of light, a veritable Rosetta stone in itself, allowing communication between people centuries apart. 

Doesn’t that excite you? The possibility that the absolute destruction, for most of us, of the most essential building blocks of information is a simple flick of the switch, a covering or two, a tent, away? Isn’t that why we try to tame it as our plaything? Teeming at its very edge, ever peering into it, but we try to escape it whenever it becomes too big, too overbearing or overwhelming. Oh, mediocre, abstract understanding of shape and form! What an ideal construct to hide those things shameful to us. Necessity to reach out and grasp, measure and compare, all of which at a distance become blurrings of the artificial lines of categorization. Fascinating isn’t it. 

But one coverage too much and the set in of fear overtakes you. The black bag over your head, the blotting out of the sun by the earth, the possibility of danger lurking not around the corner, but in front of your very face, the absence of communication of information of any kind. Well, not any kind, just those kinds we use the most, we rely on absolutely, concretely, clear as day and crystal, with our own two eyes, eye-witness to the falsity of illusion. And even there, even in our meager attempts at domesticating this wildness, this imperfect perfection, the thousands of which I simply can’t have enough paper to state, even in that, isn’t there the lack of ability? The weakness of human capability, its utmost limitations coming ironically most to light in attempts to recreate the ephemeral lacktitude. 

Fundamental absence is ever escapable to our touch, but touching the corners of the mind. Grey, onyx, obsidian, ashen, smoky, cloudy, shaded. All demonstrating the feeble attempts we take at recreating that beauty with our own hands. For any ray, any crack, any window or reflection or sheer temperature will shatter that manmade idol in an instant, casting shadows in shadows, an overlap of veils that never truly cover. For shame, that with all our fascination with making the depths of nothing into our own we can truly accomplish naught. Yet, it exists. We know it exists, we all do. Lurking at the edge of infinity, just beyond the peripheral vision of humanity it exists, prowling, giving you that sense of unease when you’re alone, reminding you of your vulnerability. The necessity to shine a light into every corner, to reduce the grasp and reach of the construct and contain it as much as possible. 

Take a moment, think about it. It’s right there, behind you, between your shoulder blades, reaching down. You know it, you can feel it with the only sense capable of escaping it when your vision’s robbed. Look at the shadows around you, looks at the depth you can see, what beyond? What’s outside of your field of vision, what’s there when you can’t see it? We both know don’t we? Humanity’s bane, the greatest fear, the thing we try to kill, for it would drive us to the brink of madness and isolation, creating a separation of sizes unfeasible to imagine in inches. Even those futures in which we see humans having powers beyond belief, and control over life and death and other humans, unbelievable leverage, the main ideal is light. Brightness, whiteness, no dirt in sight, no shadows to hide in. The ultimate in human power is control over contrast. Fascinating. Simply so.