Pharoahs and Pheromones

clasp, those fingers like cufflinks, too tight to let even air escape.
behold, the lovely light that finds quarter finally in our eyes.
steal the seconds,minutes,days until you finally get your life back.
bow towards the ones that make you feel as if bowing is something worthwhile.
create a barrier between yourself and false love, between you and honest hate.
The little ones, our captives, we've got 'em! Let those son's of bitches free!
I'ts melting growing and bubbling, don't be the only one not consumed.
if the sun beats down upon you, Beat Back! Show him weve got a sense of humor, and huge balls to boot.
Madness is doing the same thing over and over, expecting something different. Like going to your job without an uzi, and hoping that your life will change .
wander with abandonment towards the goals you didn't know you had.
Once you've found it, lose it. this way there's always an excuse to look again.
Blaze.
On tracks, on fields,mics,discs,paper,j's,beds,consoles,feet.
Blaze the heartbeat of a notion, that rises rhythmic in tune with your own.
Notariety is insecurity with support.

Is there some kind of point here?

I think God put me here to love. Something I haven't been partaking in at all as of late. So I have to ask if I have been living or existing. Hell, I'll just play it off like everthing's cool in the remote case that someone asks. Have I been this way all along? I'm not really sure, I always thought of myself as friendly, but now I'm beginning to doubt it. Times where it would be so easy to outstretch a hand, I withdraw, relying on my shaky judgement of the situation. Sometimes I wonder whether or not I'm scared, but then I realize that the only thing in this life that I am truly afraid of, is that which I perpetuate.

I cringe all too often at my mistakes of the past. Rather than learn the lesson, I go straight to the test, making sure I pass, but not knowing why. Why is there regret in my heart? I haven't screwed it all up that bad have I? No, I haven't. I'm just pissed that I have to resort to philosophical crap just to have something to write about! Ha!

I'm starting to think that maybe I ain't as good at reading people as I once thought. This above all includes myself. I over and underestimate contstantly, even now as I think. Much of my family seems to be cut from the same cloth as me. I value people and ideas above all else, but people value and worship objects, which I put little or no stock in. This means that someday soon I'll be forced to abandon these ideals, in order to acheive monetary notariety, and have those same people value me as well. So I'll be alone in my outlook for now, the only one who can truly see that we are all we've got, or maybe truly blind to the fact that I am all that I have.

Steve Dub's twenty-second revolution

Well, well it's monday the twenty-fourth which make's it Steve's birthday. He's twenty-two now, which seems like a good age. Although this means that he'll have to stop shitting himself and wear big-boy pants from now on. I'm just kidding, Steve hasn't shit himself in at least a year. Anyway this is for Steve in all of his button down, onatallnightmanibeonatalldaystraightuppimpifyawantmeucanfindmeinAK, Cracker ass pimpocity. Here is a list of jobs that I think Steve could excel at, some of which I've told him and some I haven't.

A. Politician-This kid could argue with his mom about what time he was born, he has never been wrong about anything ever, and he loves the sweet aroma of all of the fesces he's constantly exuding.

B. Pro-wrestling manager-like paul bearer or that jimmy guy who came out with the honky tonk man and wore the piano key neck tie. Steve already hangs out with big dudes who've got his back, he might as well put on a neon tux and get paid for it.

C. Pimp- Steve love's the ladies, and the ladies... Steve loves the ladies. I think if he wanted he could convince a few of his more "questionable" hook-ups, (and a few of his friends',) to partake in some Ho-ing.

D. Ho- I think I could convince Steve and some of my more questionable hook-ups to partake in some Ho-ing.

E. Regular contestant on Mtv's "Real world/Road rules Challenge"- I feel that Steve could fit right in with these whackos. He already has shit talkin down to an art form, and is extremely competetive. Plus he would totally dig all of the drunk-ass trim regularly featured on the show.

F. Leader formerly known as King- Steve would be demoted to this rank when he encroached on my decrees. We would then poison one another after the collapse of society.

Z. Analyst on "Around the horn"-Steve knows a fuck load of sports, and he is always down to throw his two cents in. After Mariotti leaves the show Steve will step up as the ATH token asshole. Watch your back Paige.

This is my "gift" to S-Dub. He is my brother from another mother, and I will be breaking my foot off in that ass later today. Steve will enjoy it waaayyy too much. So Steve, I hope you've been offended to the point that you take this as a heartwarming compliment. If not, I really couldn't give two shits.

Smirk

The wind was blowing south as the skies acted as strange is I've ever seen. There were huge snowflakes mingled with a sprinkling rain that caused the snow to clump before it even hit the ground. The temperature felt like almost fifty degrees, warm enough not to need a coat. I remember how everything was permeated by the bright light of the sun, however bright it was cast with a gray hue. I distinctly remember him because of the way he came down the road towards me. His head hung in a manner that made me question whether he could even percieve the world around him. Somehow he saw me and began making his way slowly in my direction. I felt a strange sense of contempt and pity towards him, if only because of his unhinged demeanor. It seemed with every step he took that he might fall flat on his face, but every time he managed to get one foot precariously in front of the other.

Even as he neared the patch of grass that I was standing on, I couldn't make out his face. His hair hung over his eyes, and it seemed to float to cover him as he lurched his head to and fro. He started walking up the drive towards me, up until then I had been merely a spectator to his seemingly drunken stride. I began feeling a strange sense of dread as he walked up to me and outstretched his hand. This was not a fear that he might try to harm me but only of what he might reveal. As he grabbed my arm a jolt was sent through my frame that almost knocked me to the ground.

"The stones cast in malice create the barrier from perfection. It is crowded outside the wall, while attainment lies within." With an almost maniacal smile he revealed his face, and it was a mirror of my own.

"Walk the true path or walk akin to me!" He turned and strode off toward the road quickly and deliberately in his pace. He never faltered and turned only once, to smile and show the possession of his true value, and that of my true vanity.

Help Wanted

seriously, three people is all i need to rock the shit.
i know dudes that play guitar but just aint got my fever, the flow will mesmerize and make the party true believers.
drop and rock the baseline keep it going let it lift, i compliment that knowledge with a rapid verbal riff.
you aint gotta be hendrix dog, a couple licks is all i need; float melodies throughout the air like the smoke from a bowl a weed.
thirdly comes the snares i love, they live inside my mind, without them all my lyrics would need a beatbox of some kind.
i cut fractions of factions that doubt my skills are many, seein me for free's like gettin a QP for a penny.
if you see something you like, just email call or write, whether i need to scream sing or kill the mic it will be tight.

Going down in spades

Which way should I head? A boy will ask himself as all boys at one time do. Toward the harsh and beautiful sun, the trail is fraught with ache and exhaltation. Toward the cool call of the treeline; the shade invites, promising a lull of easy dissapointment and remarkable inability. It seems that this choice, so simplistic in it's view is not taken lightly, by but a select few. As he nears the wood's edge, he feels his shoulders lighten from all burden, however displaced is the weight upon his heart. As the youth is gripped, by the lullabye forsaken by resillience, he hears the faint calls of heartache and glory. Toward the damp and dark those cries become much softer still, till only gray and dull surrounds. The realization of complacency! The Youth feverishly retreats from the place where neither ebb nor flow exist. And strikes his path, onward, outward, and inward, toward the turbulent beauty that is manhood.

In the immortal words of ice cube..."Tadow, How ya' like me now?"

So here it is, my first blog chock full of poetry, song and other inane bullshit!My first foray into anything like this and you get to bear witness! Awesome right...well actually it is awesome, and i can't whine like no punk. Cuz I leave that to the damn bleeding hearts. I think my heart started bleeding once, but a few beers later and it cleared right up.

So as the saying goes, my momma didn't raise no fool , my daddy didn't raise no punk. However, since everyone has both, and most people were raised by either their momma or daddy, how the fuck come there are so many punk ass fools in this damn country. Maybe all the p.a.f's just spring up out the ground... like cabbage bitch kids. Someone please help me figure this one out.

Ha,
Nofuknway

not a' ne'er nada

this is my first blog. that is all.