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Everybody knows no one like poets 

But rappers keep at it 

Like biter tigers 

In spite of most likely getting shot 


Poets don’t need to make rhymes 

Don’t need to keep time 

Either or neither 

Makes no difference 

For delivery 


Poets don’t need to sell their mind 

And guess what 

They don’t need to buy nothing either right? 


Let me ask you something 


All this fucking stuff 

It’s not liminal 

It’s subliminal 


Get crazy on the street 

Make your body tweet 

Take opportunity 

Live with impunity 


Freshen up 

Be sweet 


Gallop with the horse 

Reach into ravines 

Run with the wind 

For the true obscene 


I’m not saying life is endless 

Just get it on again 

You can’t get nirvana 

Downstairs at the bodega 


You can’t grow in a strangled town 

So loosen up the handles 

Bring out the bengals 


What I mean is U be U 

Like in W 


I have sung young 

And handled blood toned tongs 

And driven death into song 

And driven song into breath 


Brandished the gun 

Shooting the lung 

On the face 

The stomach 

Or the heart 

Have done everyone 

Much more than once 


No kidding hon 

No joking son 

Flooding mountain 


Come to the valley flood 

You brung water and blood 

Undertows of mud 

Undertones of swallowed love 


Like I swung young 

Like I sung young 

My mother myth 

To magic sprung 

From zeppelin sponge 

Her red hook 

Cut out 

My hungry tongue 


Tumbling froth 

Lunge mountain 

Lunge mountain down 

In banks 

Out of banks 

Wrung the last 

I could wring 

From my heart trust 

Done the most lust 

I could 


To make the sounds 

Sound sung 

Driving down the highway 

At the break of day 


I spot 3 figures 

Moving a foot 

In a field of stray 


It was still the dark side of dawn 

So hard to tell 

Something funny about them 

They didn’t seem okay 


I stop the truck 

Get my gun off the rack 

Put my heels on that hard paved road 

And shout hey 


Well just then 

The rising sun 

Cracks the eastern ridge 

And floods the plain 


The 3 freeze a sec 

In the instant light 

Focusing straight my way 


Like a camera click 

My ocular nerves pick up these guys 

Are me 


Younger versions no doubt 

But identical 

And exactly 

Yours truly 









Whatcha looking at old man they laugh 

And launch into a run 

Toward me and my truck 


At the waning moment 

I jump back in 

And hightail it off 


Feeling dumb 

I didn’t shoot the fucks 


It’s a clone encrusted 

Freak infested 

Clown show on earth 


All you can do 

Is live by your you 


Stay 30 grit 

Don’t get yourself bit 

And keep on sifting 

The dirt 


I get back home 

To my house on the hill 

Fuzzy and feeling used 


My wife Ann asks 

Where you been all night? 


Fucking girls 

Fucking boys 

You satisfied? 


Seriously Bill 

Have you been 

Back at that cave 

Stritching around for old bones 

To keep yourself young? 


Yes I was 


Didn’t last week 

You cut yourself bad there 

And drop blood in the dust? 


I admitted I did 


Well that wasn’t good 

I told you that 

100 times 


A call comes in on her cell 

Ann answered 

As I took a swell of beer 


She gets off and says 

That was Joan 

There’s been a kill 

At Funnel Creek 


Where it goes into the river 

I think it’s the Browns 

You want to go check? 

Yeah let’s go I said 


It’s a clone encrusted 

Freak infested 

Shit show of a world 


All you can do is 

Live your best you 


Stay 30 grit 

Don’t get yourself bit 

And keep on sifting 

The dirt 


We get there 

And sure enough 

There’s been a slaughter 


The Brown parents dead 

And their 2 daughters 

Bad shit 


Don’t want to get into it 

Except some people present claim 

They saw me coming and going 

To and from the Browns 

In broad daylight 

Along the road 


You did this Bill 

No it wasn’t me 

Yes it was 


They put me under arrest 

And now I’m in jail without bail 

My clones did this to me 


My wife comes and visits me 

Once a month 

Says with binoculars 

Good ones 


On the far side of the canyon 

She scopes the cave 

And sees 1’s, 2’s and 3’s 

Of me 

Slipping out 


Bivouacking down rocks 

Perfectly free 


Will they all be criminals? 


Maybe some will get a PHD 


Not mutually exclusive 

1st, 2nd or 3rd degree 


It’s a clone encrusted 

Freak infested 

Shit show of a world 


All you can do is 

Live your best true 

Stay 30 grit 




Don’t get yourself bit 

And keep on sifting 

The dirt 

Here’s the starting line 

On your mark 

Get set 



What the hell clowns 

You all jumped the gun 

Line up again 


You fuck up this time 

I’ll expel the bunch of you 

From the competition 

Don’t think I won’t 


I’m used to canceling 

At the drop of a pin 


Okay so you ready now 

On your mark 

Get set 



Jackamo does coke 

With Parker-Poo down 

In Chinatown 


Under the bridge 

At Mr. Fong’s 


Fed up rats 

Grounge for scraps 

In the alley 

Till the sun comes up 


You could use this sketch 

To roll out a flick 

Like high as kites 


And before everyone wakes up 

Let’s jack some Richard Prince 

From the gallery 

And flash his ass 

On social media 


How about a handsome ransom 

From the Prince 

Or maybe not 


But who knows these days 

What does and doesn’t play 


Either I get your goose 

Or you get desecrated 

Some other way 


Sad to say 

You’ve had your day 

Time to go away 


Not to change the subject too quick 

But in certain contexts 

Love wipes you clean 

Like walking in on a sex scene 

You didn’t mean to find 


Minds get dangerous 

Especially when deranged 


Poor Jackamo 

Poor Parker-Poo 


Jackamo drank 

A whole bunch of booze 

With his pap 

In the divest bar 

On Wall Street 

Since noon 



Stands knee deep 

At the end of a thing 

With someone dear 


From here 

That cat in the bag 

Gets loose 


Given the right mix 

Of creativity 

With deviance 

Anything can happen 

No doubt 


Misery and mastery 

Stick it right 

Where it really hurts 



Basic Modernism 101 


The buildings brighten 

Out the window 


What’s frightening 

What really scares me 

Is my shadow 

I forgot I had 1 

And now it really freaks me out 


I woke up this morning 

And I knew I was dead 


Calm down okay 

You still have access to money right 


You don’t have to beg 

In front of McDonald’s or something 

Not sure about that 


Helen grabbed my poor ass 

Off the street 

And made me her toy 

In Troy 

But the bitch ditched me 


At least I’m not wearing a mask 

In the shower 

There is that 


Bright and bushy tailed as ever 

Where's that rat 

Poet brats 


The biggest leaf 

Of my geranium 

Has gone yellow 

I’m going to nick it 





Pox of posies 


We lived like kings 

Now we’re stuck at home 

We got rings 

In our nosies 


Watch this big pharma 

I will karma-lize 

You guys till 

You cry your beans out 


Don’t think you’ll survive without me 

If I’m going out 

You’re coming with me 


I’m the one 

Who gets things done 


If I take a bad turn 

Burn me up 

Don’t forsake me 


Stash my ash in an urn 

Or rake me in the dirt 







Be cool 

Don’t lock the door 

To the bathroom 


Get the loan 

Disown your fam 

Go on the lam 

Start an Ashram 


Man you go out every night 

You’re like a socialite 

Central Valley 

Sweet raisin 


Give me cauliflower 

Give me sex by the hour 

In Fresno 


Set me up in Chico 

With the freakos 


I got restless toe syndrome and covid 

I need to shoot my wad 

At the homeless camp 


Casino to bet crypto 

On a big guy MMA bout 

In Lodi 


If we win 

Me, my sis and my bros 

Get gonzo billions 

Looking at trillions 



I mean ostracize 

Me in Sacramento 


I’m scouting for water 

And an otter 

And my long lost 

Runaway daughter 


All you gay guys 

Lead such great lives 

As new age sages 

In San Francisco 


I guess you do do that 

Cause someone loves you 

On Sunset Strip 

Of the rainbow 


Watch out though 

For opioids and poppers 


And androids 

And especially keep an eye on 



The lizoid cops there 

Eat boys and girls 

For serial killer breakfast 


Wild mountain fires rage 

Smell the burning sage 

Turn the page in the smoke 


All the leaves are brown 

And the sky is gray 


Nothing to see here 

Hey Alcatraz 

I mean San Quentin 


When’s the next 

Scheduled execution 

But I’m not stupid 


Seems like 

Some fucked up shit 

Maybe I do need to 

Get electrocuted 


I mean with no blame 

Entire lives 

Go up in flames 


Gonna take a napa 

A shot of Grappa 

And sip some Grigio 

Before my hair 

Gets singed off 

Like Smokey the Bear 

On the ridge-eo 


(Kurt Schittwas) 


On the ridge-eo 

Smoking on the ridge-eo 


(I've got a mango) 

(Box it up and send it away) 


Truckers to Bakersfield 

And truckers to the east coast 


But I’m not done yet 

California dreamin’


You did too much 

Damage to my thought 

Process to let you off 

The hook like that 


Fuck that 

Fuck that 



Amazin’ raisin 


Gag on your swag 

Gag on your oak aged 

Vanilla notes 

Smooth and nice 

In wine and liquor 

Gag on your life 


Or just take it chill 

Your private eyes 

Know precisely 

Who’s doing who 

And what loads the dice 


Lemme see your ID 


Who’s Bugatti? 

Who’s Vice? 

Or I don’t know 

Is there any there there 

Left there? 


Whole thing 

Just Grand Theft Auto 

Are you all fucking like 





Fuck that 


ID or starve 

ID or starve 

ID or starve 





Or you will starve to death 

I will never see the end of this 

They will 

They will 


Control everybody 

And there's nothing I can do about it 

I must sit here and weep 

I must weep 


Cause it's identification or starve 

Cause it's identification or starve 









ID or starve 


You and me 


So I got down on my knees 

And I began to pray 

To say what the fuck is this? 


This state is in a 

State of dysfunction 

On a scale of 39.5 billion 


Guess what? 

Like that 

It don’t take much 

To light the match 


Facade and mirage 

Love at 1st lay 

Look I know the game 


I’ve gone up canyon roads 

Overgrown with flora 

With houses perched on stilts 


I’ve viewed magnificent vistas 

Upon the Pacific 


From private abodes 

I know what counts 

On the west coast is 

Fidelity in sight and sound 



No way 

In San Jose 


Faithful in trust? 

You must be kidding me 


ID or starve 

ID or starve 

ID or starve 












I see 

I see it 

I know 

I know 

I can't believe it 


I will never believe it 

I can't believe it 

I will never believe it 

I will not believe 




You must be kidding me 


(I need to see ID)


Alright so 

Just play on SM replay 

Your best day 

Take your language lips 

And ripped off looks 


And crimp the opposition 

On your way 

To The Perfect Trip 


The Perfect Trip 


Take your way 

On your way to The Perfect Trip 


Doesn’t matter 

If everyone else thinks you’re jerks 


Which I think is fine 

At least we like what you write 

Even though none of you read 


Such a prime apothegm is 

Don’t read what you write 


Such a Golden State 

Most valuable gem 


That’s all right 

Don’t read anyone 

Especially not Didion 


She’s just a spy 

In the house of love 


Poor old Cali 

You were once fruit of the loom 

Now you’re just 

Another failed dream 


Hate to end it this way 

So I won’t 

To be continued... 

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