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.
Wordplay number 164. So tired but so refreshed it’s a paradox. A breath of fresh air, wear and tear but it’s not enough. I’m bottled up, waiting for my very own Mazel Tov, to celebrate like Saturdays that life ain’t just a table talk. Life ain’t just to catch us up, like some donkey chasing carrot stubs, tied onto a string dangling right above his shoulder shrug. Should I get it? should I stand up and reach for this bit of grub? Is destiny worth the best of me or am I just specially built for messing up? Everything happens for a reason as they say, I’m a platitude away from getting absolutely nothing done, sayings are amazing but I’m finding they’re pretty useless stuff. So power to the people here among all of us, the diehards, John McClanes, the ones who are afraid of none. Fearlessly they model and we follow for the same outcome. Or even better, like a sweater, to keep us warm cause we’re cooling off. And one day, just like talks, all our “oughts” will be far and gone. But will we be the foreigners or right back where we started from?
WP 152: Talk, am I worth being spoken to? I’m all crazy but this mind’s got its needs too. My insides are a sign of how I’m Pikachu. Electrifying, yes, but a pretty shy dude. I don’t like to scream, I don’t like to talk over you. It’s just a habit of mine that I’ve developed from the womb. The FJs in the house and we’re bombastic to the root, hand motions in the air like the world’s ending soon. Break me off a piece of that Kit-Kat bar, I need a break cause this pace is taking tolls on my car, and I mean that metaphorically, I means it from the heart, I don’t mind this gig but the cost is pretty hard. Who am I? Once again this question comes across. Manic, he’s depressive, bi-polar like a boss. If I were majoring in mentally challenging the odds, I tell you what, wait a bit, this whole stage is mine to rock. Give me a sec, let me suit up head down to my toes, Second Timothy said we’re more than they oppose. I got power, I got love, a sound mind good to go, let it flow, with no cut backs, “Onward, ho!”
WP 148 - Even in this heart I will still believe. I’m referring to the dark like the blackest sea. I’m referring to the dark like the whack in me. I’m a false pre-tense, a walking wannabe. And I will hold on, Zordon, hear me beep, my watch is going crazy cause I’m powered Green, and I’d like to think I’m powerful, even mighty. But this Megazord’s gone and I can’t morph from me. What the heck are you talkin ‘bout? Silly D. You’re a just a walking bag of Looney with no Tunes in the beat. Yer rhymes are as weak as mac and cheese. And nowhere near tasteful, keeping kids off the street. So why you even bothering? Toss the keys. And then toss the towel, make your surrender plead. What went wrong? Are you a dawg or certified G? Haha yes definitely, but only mentally.
WP 147 - Ode to Linda Su - Hey Su, we’ve been missing you, now tell us where you’ve been. It’s the truth, it’s been the 100s, but go on shine again. Yer the Tinkerbell, real swell, and I means it, no pretend. Now fly back, flutter in, and stage that second wind. I remember talks with no tears, a strong broad, yer amazing. You’d rock me in the beers, I would sip while you were waiting. But you were good like that, you had ears and you were patient, a fan favorite, everybody loved you like Raymond. And I don’t mean yer brother, I meant that sitcom that was famous. Remember how we thought you should have your own show and the name was? Oh yeah, the Life of Linda, centered on this crazy. Power-puffed extra tough, world saving Asian. She might get bat around but would pop back like a daisy. But it’s the girl you love to love cause you knew she wasn’t faking. And we still love you, thinkin of you, like every dude’s baby, every grown up’s favorite girl, and whoo that S. O. Pi. Lady! Cause you is so high rated! And you is so gonna make it! Cause we is so ever waiting, for that misbehavin’ maiden!……….GET BETTER!!!! http://everribbon.com/ribbon/view/1087
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.