prayers to Kevin Ware for a complete and full recovery. then FYEAH! louisville’s beatdown of the duke bluedevils…. and… and… CAN THIS BE RIGHT: the louisville women’s team is currently up big over baylor and Griner?!?! never had much use for easter, but this so far is a great one!
from my old morethanmud.blogspot.com page…. MONDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2010 (edited feb 12 2013 at 2:damn-early a.m.) this pathos-by-proxy still twitches at the mere mention of paterollers storming the gate / neanderthals with knuckles dragging - swarming the stanza; dupes in white robes, haute-couture dunces capped in trivial pursuits; they’ve come for the gardenias, the organza. and the...
If you have to choose between being a pretentious smart-ass or a smug son of a bitch then go with the one that will get you laid the fastest, depending on the circumstances, because chances are you’ll have nothing else going for you.
a black man jumps the shark
i want a bar mitzvah. or something. i’m 43. watching boyz in da hood with my homies while checking email from a cell phone does not count as “rite of passage” “In traditional societies there was little room for the “unplaced person” who had yet come to terms with his/her society. In part the creation and extension of adolescence is a reflection of a casual motif in modern...
see eyes / rainbows boiling within retinas / eye jellies a rolling black hole...– indigenous redesign, upfromsumdirt © 2012
urban water buffalo theorem #1
up at dawn… i strap on africa: my metaphor, my phantasm. africa is the yoke i harness my imagination to, pulling me up from this assimilated coma; tan docker’s and my tattered olive hoodie make for a poor man’s american-styled dashiki. midnight is the work-clothes i fit my words into; i’m a pullman car porter for old adages and new mythicisms; i’m a houngan...
if there can be such a thing as a ghost writer then why not a corporeal...– “Africadabra, motherfucker” by upfromsumdirt
'meanwhile, ten years later...'...
(my poetry-hand’s been waaay off lately. this is just me scratching around, and for now, might be the worst thing i’ve ever written) … 1. aahhh, yes, “the dystopia”, right? with its broken neon, ashen sheen; bedtime stories of sex and soot. we are in s&m to what we mistake as “beauty”… cocooned. spooning the echo of an older era....
boxora's pan / bizarre (czar) shit /...
we kiss and color bliss outside the lines / scholar blind. we trace sun and bow the rain until sky dances a prismatic trance. we hope / black isotope in heart this kaleidoscope of skin, lips apart / we collide / twin isosceles. this is what happens when black love becomes anti-coumadin - this collusion of caress: a high platelet count. a thickening. a quickening. a beautiful thrombosis. climb...