m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-mun-dane

'when you put grease on paper you can see right through
and the same shit happens when you're watching greasy news
with pundits flappin one wing when to fly they're needin two
you have to wonder if what you're lookin at is lookin back at you'

i never rhyme

i wrote that a week short of a year ago
walking from sarah's house to my parent's
it was never finished

i was angry and insecure last summer
perhaps the best of my life
i don't write like i did
a year ago

more detatched
less wordplay
too many essays
(now)
maybe it's cause i got sick of poets
or moved to Ukie Village

things are starting to fall into place again
my eyes are bugged from two hours of sleep
i may very well pull off the school thing by yule
and i'll be a grownup for Hanuukah

I'm still the king of bullshit. I shat out three presentations today, the first was a powerpoint on how Satan is fucking Tits. In the second I was Arthur Barclay, a representative of Liberia arguing for the independence of six African colonies Germany had to capitulate when the lost the First World War. This was my role in the 1919 Pan African Conference. A girl who referred to us all as 'delegants' was W.E.B. Dubois. Finally, I shat my way through a sympathetic counterpoint as the King of Sweden at the concurrent Versailles Conference of 1919.

I noted that I was happy earlier
no wordplay though
and far from the best summer ever
i've yet to feel sand
but my phone is ringing again
and nearly 200 blogs later, i'm still at it

i'm glad breanna is back in town,
that nate and tania are relatively functional,
the pets aren't dead and i've gotten ahold of an air conditioner
god is afoot and my toes will find the fire yet