it seems there’s a feeling among some folks that i haven’t been writing great poetry lately.

no fucking shit.

but y’know, i’m actively trying NOT to write what i always write. want to be lighter, and more willing to put SHIT out here in order to get better at what i do. need to expand my palette and that means mixing up some mud on occasion.

that means i’m gonna make some mistakes. but y’know…sorry gang. i’ll be better…but at heart, i say, fuck it. yeah, i may not be batting a thousand right now, but i’m out there SWINGING, y’know?

again, fuck it.

just for fun, based on a memory of a comment i heard once in a club.

hiphop and your stocking cap

i listen to hiphop
all night thinking about
your stocking cap.

raise your hands
in the air like you just don’t care.
it may be a cliche

but it makes it easier for me
to lift your shirt over your head
and pull it free.

the beat drills me
deep down, the way
i like it.

you’re a beat all by yourself.
we’re a track mixed at night
booming in the basement

until the neighbors grind with us
the way all lovers do
when they find their groove.

so i keep thinking about your stocking cap
and how your hair looks when i take it off.
you know i want to take it off.

you oughta be a rockstar, live large,
don’t believe the hype,
love by any means necessary,
and any other cliche that works

i’m gonna use because
it ain’t what you bite, it’s when you bite;
it’s who you bite

when you bite, and when all is said and done
i’ll bite you, cause it’s like that,
you’re all that

when the lights are out,
when the cap comes off
and the stereo’s off,

and the phone’s off the hook,
when we both figure it’s time
to put up and shut up.