The truth to the lack of poon.

I've tour'd the fjord, and been bored in borea.
I've HK'd and Gank'd... and spam'd trade for arenas.
I lvl'd pvp... but got sick of QQ...
So transfered PVE to pay my raid dues...
And before you ask... yes i waited in line...
and the day after wrath drop'd, my DK was lvl 59.
bit the day after that, i was back on my main,
Switched spec's and gear sets...
now epic DPS's my claim to fame...
And fuck yeah, we've got maly, and sarth +2
That's right mother fucker, my guild's better than you
And yes, i wrote this poem, to explain why i don't get laid...

But i've gotta cut this shit short... I'm late for my raid.

fuck you. And starbucks.

I'm a barrista bitch, i brew bold black brews. I do caffeine consumption like fox fabricates news.

I'm vegan, but i'll still give your bitch my bone, if she brought you to the show tonight, you can walk your ass home//and cry about it while you beat your fist... like Michael Jackson after he watches Oliver Twist.

I'm a vegan, straight edge, anarcho-feminist. Which makes me a hypocrite if you bought into anyathis.

But thats okay, i write these poems to play with... mediocre shit, that i hope to get laid with.

and don't knock it man, it worked one time... i'm too shy to talk to girls, so i rhyme...

Let them be the ones to break the ice... then drop mad game 'bout how their hair looks nice...

Then at the end of the night, i'll still go home alone, and shoot your mom a call on my cellular phone...

cause i'm serious when i say that i get no play, and if i want it my way, sometimes i gotta pay//and your mom's a cheap treat that can't be beat and i'm better off than beatin my meat...

Okay. I get it. I took this joke further than most... SOoo tip the barristas and thank the host...

And big ups to Baxters... oh, and i got one last thing to say...

Buy some coffee mother fuckers. and have a nice day.

pick up... your mom.

**i'd like to preface this with a bit of a disclaimer that the first line was a bit of a joke between me and a friend... plz don't take offense, none was ment. in fact... this whole poem, is a joke.

I stand before you today to say he's gay, and i'm well on my way... not to the same shit, but the oposite, not straight, but without a date, with no desire to procreate...

and not to hate...

on any women, girls, or sluts... Just to bust nuts, against knuckles, and nothing more.
cause sure i'm all for,
zero population growth...
But really, I need an excuse.

Cause while i keep my eyes on the prize between your thighs that makes you sigh oh my oh my...

I need a reason. Some kind of logical treason why i stand heavin', breathin', believin'... that I'm destined to remain celibate. Aw, ta hell with it.

See, i don't buy into that shit, that it's not legit to hit it...

But i also don't like sleepin' around.

BUUuuuttt.... sometimes i like sex for sex... just like sometimes i go to work just to earn checks... not to say i don't love what i do...

Just to come true with my motivations for this revelations, that sometimes i don't have the patients for relationships...

SOMETIMES, i just wanna bust hips against hips... Or lips... Whatever.

whatever's clever...

Whatever's the cure for all the shit you've endured...

couldn't be half as much fun as the hell we could raise, just by spreadin our legs, and passin the days...

So what do you say...

Wanna get laid?

illiteration is serrrius bisnus

Seriously sweetheat... i'm salivating.

Sometimes i swear you secrete sucrose. Other times, NaCl tho...

But sugar sweet or salty seas... i see scenes of ceremonious singalongs... just you and me.

i told them going vegan's the most revolutionary thing you can do... short of falling in love...

Cause the revolution won't be fought by firing a gun, but you fight the revolution each time you make somebody cum... you build a bond between you that'll never be undone...

but i didn't write this to talk about fucking.

Recent delves into the realm of expression, where i remain seated the speachless exception, gave me a chance for introspection, and my reflection's got me wondering...

Like, why would i choose clothes with holes rather than logos.

or why do i carefully consider every morsel i masticate...

Or why do i sit in my seat while others put heat to thier cancer stick treat...

Or why would i chose a can, over a bottle.

cause that's love.

and not the type you clean off the seat, the type between b-boys and break beats... between vegans and fake meat... the type, that leaves you breathless.

And i'm not talking exclusively about the reckless mutany in the form of aerosal art...

I mean, all art for art's sake, not for corperate intake.

I'm talking poets who find solace in starving to death...

I mean MCs who freestyle on street corners over... *beatbox*... intstead of fucking fuity loops.

I mean screen print artists, who hang their art in urban galleries... ... with wheat paste.

I'm talking food, i grew and cooked myself... Now that's love...

and with it... maybe that expression can once again stand for something...

cause sitting speechless and wondering... felt too much like doing nothing... when there's a whole world, and you've got your whole life... for loving

cuz

i'd be lyin to say i didn't realize, the friends of yours all specialize in influencing minds t'ward euphoric times and euphoric crimes, i seen warnin signs i was never blind, in fact you'll find, in the heart of my rhyme, i'm scared. i think i mighta saved you, but i never dared, now i'm stuck wonderin how i coulda cared, but still did nothin

Your dad called, he can't find you// what do i say, knowin the bullshit that i do?// your dad's gotta know what i told him was untrue// cause i left out the part 'bout smokin bud after high school// with that weight on my conscience, it's my heart i just lied to// With that weight on my conscience in my heart i cut ties too// and i sit back alone with that wet shit that eyes do//cause all i can think is of memories of us two// and as memories go, all i know is there's too few// so i try and i try to make myself hate you// and forget the good times we had with the old crew//but i'm lyin inside cause it's love that i owe you// So if you ever need me you know that i feel you//but i have to live right and it's me that i'm true to//so cousin of mine, just dont forget that i love you.

dies es un machina

when i was little, i was taught a game. i was like 4 years old, i don't remeber the name, but it went... here's the church, and here's the steeple,

but then it stopped.

cause i opened the doors and the people were evil, and their version of jesus isn't one of jehova... just one who wants tithes and to fuck people over... and they couldn't tell me why two of my best friends in the world... are going to hell, just cause they don't like girls...

And i did read the bible, and tho i don't speak hebrew... i did see the part that said, you should fuck like we do... but i also saw a part about stoning your wife... and a god that needs tests with your son and a knife...

and you look at my friends, and say they're unnatural? well they are, if it's patriarchy you're trying to sell... Because believe it or not, there's money in gender roles... you really think some old white fuck cares what you do with your genitals?

It's bad enough what they do behind closed doors... slippin' sneakers under bathroom-stall doors on airport floors... Or in Alaska, where they send short eyed preachers... pass them off to indigenous people who accept them as teachers?!

so no, your god isn't necessarily a crutch, but it's ignorant as fuck to ignore the clutch and role he's played in creating, and perpetuating bigotry.

and yes, i'm an athiest... but if i believed in a god, it wouldn't be part of your masoganistic facade... it'd be a god who valued things like honor and integrity... cause those are the things that i value in me...

instead, these religions seem to value hypocrisy... and the things that they do, are all about money... and that's something, i hope I'll never be... so i stay anti-religion... And god free.

work in progress

I'd like to thank you... for motivating me to wreak some shit tonight.
With my heartstrings stretched this tight, i've got some impulses i'm not even gonna try to fight.

See i'm a good guy, with a bad side, and a bad habit of letting shit slide... but after tonight... i'm gonna break that bad habit... and it'll be the last thing i ever thank you for.

Because frankly... i'm exhausted.

Not that tame tried tired of too many sleepless nights... or even the well earned waking dead shamble won by working well past weary...

No, picture burning the candle at both ends...
with blowtorches,
and girls, or bad friends...
well... they're some kinda suped up butane,
and conversations with em's, a constant strugle with the profane,
and your name...

aint shit.

Just the fuckin match.

A match... something you and I never were...

But the bad ones have a tendency to come back around,
and hit me up, when my defenses are down.

and rebuilding those walls, is what'll finally do me in.

so, fuckem.

I'm gonna fill the fractures with the freedom i find in expediating the process.

i'm gonna tear them down. Wreck shit all around. I've found, new girls and friends and these mother fuckers are down. And fuck candles... our fuel burns cities to the ground.

and we're finding sweetness in our sleeplessness... and we wont feel alive, until we're exhausted.

So thanks again. For tonight. For stretching me tight. For the motivation.

Cause snappin...

has been pretty damn good for me