launchpad
Making music for a change.
-
Wordplizzy One-Seven-Tizzy (172):
Sometimes I’m feeling like a walking piece of crazy. I’m my own kind of sideshow, with no ads shown daily. I’m off on tangents enough to be the main thing. Wanna watch me lose it? I can seat you, no waiting. It’s appalling, a pallbearer for my own waking. My own little zone, you can call it home on the raging. Outrageous, how heinous, how dare this young Asian! Ooh still young? Like a mental vacation! But really, is there really a point to belly-achin’? I tell you what, if there wasn’t, so what? I’m famous! Well at least in my head, and my mama says to say it. Whatever’s on your mind, son, we all get to weigh in. And even if I don’t, trust me I’ll find my way in. You will appreciate, and you will entertain this. You will learn to love your fellow man and your lady, cause even if we don’t meet your plans, we were created, magnificent and in an image we were all made in, a likeness both frightening, like lightening but amazing. You think you know yourself? Just a faint imagination.
-
WP 170 (Scared China-man): They tell me, “You’ll go far, Danny boy, you’re a star, man.” But don’t stars burn out, and all you see is the remnants? I’ve been this paranoid, since I was a nervous kid, man. Overweight, Chinese spectacle, trying to get through adolescence. And now here I am, trying to get through the present, my spectacles still slipping, and I’m a show for your senses. I might be a good fella, but am I here for your amusement? I’m used to it, usually, it’s become an institution. I start me off my days with a boost and my two steps, solitary me, three’s company, so do step. I’m trying to be courteous so please carry on lest we lose it. Alright, I mean me, I’m like a bomb without the fuse lit. I’ll be honest until the day I go, I’ll try to be translucent. It’s just hard when you’re on your toes and eggshells guide your movements. You think it’s easy being me? Let’s take a walk, you must be new to this. It’s called empathy, and mentally I take a bruising. I think more than I oughta, and they tell me to please loosen. Up is where we need to look but not so much that you’re useless. No earthly good, a weirdo that’s aloof to the music. In his own world, wishing for a girl that could soothe it. The aching, the breaking, the masterpiece theater that’s a nuisance. You call me critical, I call it simply my two cents.
-
I just wish that I could spit it like a minute-win-it debtor, but I’m less bass in yer face and more falsetto ghetto tenor.
WP 144: Am I back? Am I bad? Am I better than ever? You can have the shirt on my back, but you’ll prolly need a sweater. Cause I can bring it when I sing it, not to be some arrogant competitor, but I know what I can does, and I’m colder than the weather. And sometimes I needs to be, cause the heat is more than temperature, it’s the tension, it’s the tongue-lash, and I how I can’t keep it together. I’m a rag doll, tossed between the doggone whatever’s, passive Asian male and completely off-center. I’m completely incomplete, and my wordplay’s like letters, in an alphabet soup for grown bed-wetter. I just wish that I could spit it like a minute-win-it debtor, but I’m less bass in yer face and more falsetto ghetto tenor. What does that even mean Dan? That my “better” hasn’t entered. I’m just a go-getter chasing dreams, and by any means, I will get her.
-
I can see the sunshine, glowing in the distance. Here I am standing, glad I didn’t miss this. But beyond that I am glad that I could witness, the rise and the fall of what we call our “business.” Who am I that you would even mindful of me? Could anything I ever do ever be lovely? I stand in the presence of everything from nothing, who makes beautiful anything that was once ugly. And I won’t front, I won’t play dumb, like some bumbling, dead beat. Unaware of anything, deaf to my ending, hear no, see no, say no evil? Heck I’m the keynote at the world’s biggest professional creep show. Yet I can see the hope, gold lining all my clouds, the dark’s losing ground as I’m pulling through now. My mind’s supernatural as I’m gunning ghost towns. No room for undermining as I’m protecting this house. A new leaf is turning as my talent cries out, this burden is more a blessing, as I grin and bear instead of bounce. And I’m bound to my word now that I’ve found what I’m about. You should take the time to find you instead of following the crowd.
-
But your honor in my defense I’d like to plead, that even winter sometimes dreamsWP 141: Yep I am that oldest man. Scatter brained, please hold my hand? I’m about as lost from track, as a tourist in their fanny pack. But not the one the North Face has, I’m chugging back to 80s land. Right underneath your belly fat, a horizontal camel’s back. But all the nonsense now aside, where’s the doggone meaning at? Once again you failed us Dan. You can’t escape this heart attack. Cause this, oh yes, is of your heart. The blackness chars all light that sparks. We’d like to stay warm inside your arms, but it’s as cold as north from south is far. But your honor in my defense I’d like to plead, that even winter sometimes dreams, I’m as uncapable as promises sworn, by compulsive liars crossing their arms. But it’s all I gots and I gots no more, are you still in the business of forgiving the forlorn? I’m a latchkey kid of my own décor, a storm that settled outside your door, huffing and puffing, a teary eyed dork, but accepted you are, were your words at my morgue. But what of this? What do I know about you, oh Lord? Never enough, but from what I’ve learned, I want more.
-
Here’s something to write about. How my failures are paramount. Yeah I could hold back, refrain as I own that, but the truth is the music, small value from a big mouth. I hear that I’m a talker. And I’ve heard that from a packed house. The audience knows the bill, I have no hiding and no backing out. My words are like a clumsy man falling down the stairs, tripping over tippy toes, afraid that no one’s there. But I’m alright if no one’s there. I run the lone-star dare. You can be the Russian Roulette but I’m gambling how I care. And in the end, there’s the kicker, no one saw it but it flickered, like a moth to a flame, I’m burning up in my knickers. I’m a liar, I’m a big fat jerk-face liar. You can take that to the bank and save it for the choir. As they sing for the moment and I get my just desserts. From the verse to the chorus, I’ll walk the bridge to where it hurts.
-
WP 130: Here I am watching 27 dresses, and here they do come, a free falling of questions. Hey Dan, you a man, have you lost yer mind with a passion? You’re indulging in a monumental dance between the fences. Hey don’t mention it, I know what the offense is, but ah, been one of those days I do reckon. But maybe, just a tad, just a bit, I might like it? The whole laugh and a cry, and a shoulder to make ya dry thing? No I won’t cry but I do laugh until my side tings. It’s good for the soul to remind yourself of hijinks, that come with the fun, of romance in the night thing, captivating your yada yada, dance when it’s raining. Anywhoo, anyway, yeah I’m watching this on FX, thought it’d be a good way to end the night with some antics, yeah its no Seinfeld or Jim from The Office. But often, it’s nice to take a break from the obvious. What’s the point of this? Why bother with this status? Who knows, who cares, just thought it be fun to toss wind into the cautious.
-
I’m more nosy than Pinokie, just a wannabe but dangerous. And I lie way enough you can call me Snuffaluffagus.
WP: 125 Everyday I wander off and wonder how I write this, talking to myself, is it really worth the migraines? Staring at my phone, or the screen, or papyrus, Ha! who says “papyrus?” But hey I know you liked it. Benched for a reason, I’m batting both my eyelids, trying to stay awake, my batting’s in the minus. I’m the swing, I’m the miss, Kong strikes out like he likes it. But the lose is elusive if he don’t know what he’s tryna hit. Sometimes I’m feeling torn between a tie and where my talent is. As if an A - Z - N could count his way into the top ten. Can I count my way into the Billboard’s biggest hits? Can I count on words to work a jook sing out of “worthless?” But I’m not working well enough to even wake me out of it. This engine’s gone cold, let alone warm enough to rev. I’m more nosy than Pinokie, just a wannabe but dangerous. And I lie way enough you can call me Snuffaluffagus. Who am I? I’d like to know, I’m not trying to be anonymous. I know I’m no anomaly, but ordinary isn’t this.
-
It’s Daniel’s Birthday! Want to make it the best ever for him AND your fellow NY-er!? Please check out the Launchpad Charity Fund [http://launchpadnyc.tumblr.com/happybirthdaydaniel] and THEN have your first taste of our 5 brand new songs by checking out our official music video for Hope!! [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3h5SfSlLTss] The other four songs are coming out at 5:25pm!!
-
Write me up, I’m pretty stuck. Caught between a hard place, a rock, and anything rough. But I’m not complaining, the blame goes to me and passing cups. Easy way out? Consider me down! Yes, you may now envy his Emmy winning ugly mug. TRUST ME, this one’s half empty, cast your bets, ladies and gents, he’s looking tough, but spine-less is timeless and time has once again shown how little of a man this “man”s become. A murderer, a liar, a merciless monster in the buff. A sinner among the savages, a Dorian Gray kind of class adjunct. I see him in the mirror, and I’m merely seconds far from getting punched, if it weren’t for my skates being cheap, I’d be flying on the highways and byways for Ikea runs. Run, yes, run, into the sun where you came in from, and set your sights higher, though zero ain’t too hard to bump.
