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Making music for a change.
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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.
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“Wordplay” No. 171
Alright roll the tape back, play it once more, but crank it up on the playback. I don’t really see why it’s gotta be a-sap, guess I don’t wanna be gone like the 8 track. I don’t wanna be gone like your gas tank, burning cool through your cash, but we’re broker than a Kit Kat. I used to be afraid of being of nada, just a flashback. Folks reminisce about his hooks and his hunchback. But remember his baby? That slick, black, hatchback? Crazy, quasi-calm but his motto was to fast-track. He sped through his words, but lacked cool of a Cadillac, more bull and china shop, watch it go gallivant. But then they come along, all the folks and their “matt’a facts.” Touting how the tower talks, yet no one dares to talk back. You bring around your melodies, and sell to me the super-pack. Bundled up superfast, heart in sleeve bubble wrap. Now it’s hard to sleep, knowing kids don’t second glance. They hardly know a thing about patience, what’s that? Intimidated by the facts, lest they get the Can-Can. Kicked in the rump, bump up-up-and away act. Cracked in the skull and the truth might counteract, infecting convention, and the truth becomes hazmat. A beautiful artifact, recovered like a fanny pack, a blast from the past, shoulda stayed but we want it back.
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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.
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Worked to death so I relax? Broke their back so I can slack? Yeah I know, the curtain’s nags to take what’s mine, this play’s one act.
WP 155: Can I make two up? To make up for my screw ups? Before my eyes get heavy and I can barely type two words? I wish that I could take it back. My years are falling way too fast. And gravity is like back hand, reminding me, Dan will soon be damned. I’m not as far as I’d like to be. I’m faring well but is that for me? Is that what this brain really needs? To walk head down after epiphany? But pretty please, I’m pen not piece. I’m vision, not violence, my intention’s deep. No reservations, I’m my own fiend, type like a beast, but boss? Puh-leaze. I’m polished, grit be gone, and yeah I’m clean. I’m safe riding, high fiving easy life, but it’s not mine, it stings like police. I feel inept, realized in debt, of wasting all the grind my folks had pressed. Worked to death so I relax? Broke their back so I can slack? Yeah I know, the curtain’s nags to take what’s mine, this play’s one Act.
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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!”
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WP: 152 Ten-thirty nine at the Laundromat, I’ve got nine minutes left til I dry and dash. Thinking why am I still here trying to rap? I guess passing the time is the best I got. Maybe one day I’ll be trying Zagat, no not the tiger uppercuts, it’s the fancy book with all the spots, mere mortals like me can’t afford to hop. And maybe wining, dining, to pass the time? Won’t need quarters no more to set aside. No twenty-four, seven, eyes thinking, “Who’s this guy?” And me feeling like they don’t like my kind. But that’s alright, I’m fine, I’m still Jackson Heights. Won’t let some hood-rats harass my highs. I’m about D. Thomas this tonight, and rage, rage, against the dying of the light. And we forgive and we forget cause that’s the line, that He shouted into dark and foreboding sky. Love hung high for us here living low-lives, amazing is grace, words can’t describe.
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I wish I was good enough to be called a charmer, spit it like a Midwest seasoned farmer, then me and the game would be like Greg and Dharma, I’d show these nuts who’s the G Dub Carver. It’d be Thanksgiving all year as I’m prepped to carve it, piece by piece, I’d be revved to start it, so please step aside I beg your pardon, I’m madly in love to square it off at the Garden. I’m not from the hood, no need to card me. But I have no problem speaking from the heart man. I’m hardly educated like some of the hardest, I’m community college while these dudes are Harvard. But that’s fine, I’m alright, the truth can’t harm me, mind over matter, and you matter hardly. I’m stuck in the clouds like that Prince and carpet, ready to swing in like the missing Parker, and though I’m late please excuse my tardy, I’m still gonna marry this thing, y’all can catch the garter.
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I accept jesus as my lord and savior. Please pray for me
- Linda Su 8/3/2011 8:52pm (facebook)
WP 149 - And I thank God that you see it, that you’ve opened to believe it, that this day, though was down, has everlasting meaning. And when you call He will answer, from the morn to the evening, and even when you mourn, even more will you meet Him. I still remember wrestling with the Lord to beseech you, the hound was around, but you thought we would mislead you. I know I’m not perfect, but I got low down to plead too, seek through, speak truth, on the ground as knees do. And as the word says, heaven opens and the trumpets sound to greet you, welcome to fam, hot dang, this is theeee news! Are you ready? No more waiting, twenty four seven, no debating, a life turned around like the triple lutz skating. And yes, there are ups, just as downs, no escaping. But guess what? No fuss, of our own complicating. There are things we can’t change but it’s for our own painting, each stroke from the Savior, for a life worth saving. More than just a pager that we beep when we’re aching, a divine life line, and fullness for the taking.
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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.
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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
