I just found out, via a PM by a lovely human, that a messed up draft of this is showing up as an “update”. I didn’t post it, and so now I’m fighting stray shame feelings due some unsolvable technical glitch.
I’ve decided that rather than waiting for some Emily to handle this technical glitch, I’d better kill off a bad update with one that at least is formatted.
Then, I forgot and trusted the OS.
I edited it so nicely -- really focused on spending more time with what I post. Went to post it , and got “ Open Salon is not currently open to New Members.”
And, as many of you know, the post then went missing . From past experience, I know it will never ever be recovered. Lost in some cyber bus stop somewhere in …. Nebraska?
This is my earnest (Yet silly!)attempt at having a Cigna supported Second Career.
My Cigna supported second Career: To become a Wrapper for the revolution that just must occur when considering the landscapes we now face. Wrapper? See I'm a wannabe writer and rapper. Wr-rapper, See?
Hip Hop for highbrows/Rap for raconteurs
Solopsistic top feeders Unite.
The niche is there
So won’t it be queer
If us curmudgeons put up a fight.
Let them call us disgrungled, even romantic.
When we are forced to foresee
A president Mitt Romney
we need to get frantic.
Yeah, I’m talking about taking awn the
unchattering classes, the herd, the sheeple --the bourgeoisie.
The cultural reality
that don't belong to you and me.
Highbrows of Generations X Y, baby and boom!
Let’s not give in to doom.
Did I say doom?
I don’t want anyone to panic.
Yet ya’lls got to admit
that it just ain't enought to diss plastic and buy only organic.
Kerouc didn’t have no serontonin uplift.
He would be miffed
To know
That he could no longer
Take Greyhound,
with their lame companion pass
And their restrictions on smoking grass.
Amtrak has wifi now?
Kiss my ass.
Just heard about a new
poetry competition in park slope
If Lord Byron signed up and lost
how would he cope?
Would head to the nearest martini lounge were he couldn’t smoke?
Pass me the crack, forget about the coke.
Martinis, Bistros, latte
Make us feel like a shmatte.
Going upscale
Making us pale
!
Y’all let’s stop being defeatist, fatalistic, nihilistic
DJ elitist Ice floe
Is here to unharsh your low!
We need to get back the spirit
That Oprah is trying to steal
Let’s club her with her books
And take away her meals.
While she gets more and more gluttonous on gourmet
How many debts they want us to pay?
Sexton and Plath
Were not waving but drowning.
Stevie Knicks wrote that
No, I’m just clowning.
Socrates was all about dialogue
Plato was all platonic.
They and Sinatra are dead.
All we got now is Harry Connick.
Pass me the gin, forget about the tonic
I be so sick of Kim Kardashian and her crazy ass tits
We be needing you—Fran Leibowitz.
That reference might be esoteric.
Andrew Lloyd Webber
Is in the house
Where Be David Merrick?
The time is now to play the vulture
Start pecking at the corpse
that is mass culture.
Zarathustra thus spoke
Raskolnikov done slayed
And all we have to show for it is --
David Spade
Wanna escape Cultural rape, aesthetic pillage?
Not going to find safe harbor in Greenwich village.
Modern bohemians can’t afford the dues
On even studios with alley views.
Forced to commute
If we don’t want to wear the monkey suit.
Paris is out, don’t hear anymore about café society.
Aw fuckin shucks,I ain’t talking about starbucks.
I’m talking about gay paree – Sarte, Camus, Debouvire(De- boo-vee-ay)
A place to escape Rachel Ray
The world is all partisan.
Extreme teams of fighting leftists, and rightists.
The truth is in between seems obvious to only
the best and the brightest.
I’m optimistic about my mad rhyming skillzz
To be the DJ who conveys society’s illz.
Lower brow broth- uhs will say I have no cred
Gotta be outta Compton, South central
Or like tupak or biggie--
get dead
They gonna diss me and try to make me mope
Cause my core audience lives in park slope.
Straight up, I don’t know from ghettoes and hos
But I know me some ennui and existential woes.
On that I am a schola.
If you can relate to my fate, please do Holla!
I’m serious. No dilettante here to dabble
I’m taking charge, ain’t no control freak
Don’t give me that psychobabble.
Chick lit
Dating ,mating, overweighting, irritating.
A womans life is made suffocating.
Theroau spoke of quiet desperation.
Desperation is now in stereo sound.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about
You be a newbie rube.
Two words-
You Tube.
The publishing houses say we too small a statistic
Smart is passé .
The marketer’s vision is bleak.
Any one with any wit calling theyselves a geek.
Everywhere you look
They hail the death of the book
Blogs , bulletin boards, social networking sites
The huddled masses fighting cyber fights.
Perez Hilton hailed as one of our leading lights.
Mail now is incessantly rhymed with snail
emoticons try at emotion and fail.
Hands busy typing, trolling, and scrolling,
no one seen strolling.
Diet doctors feeding on lies.
Obesity on the rise.
The world is trading, trading
I know about NAFTA.
But they’re idea of cultural sharing is not what I’m afta.
We need to clean up the system,
Give it a Colonic and a Juice fast.
What you say?
You too busy listening to a podcast?
Just kidding,
What would we do if we couldn’t get Ebay
to do our bidding.
Shoppers with pepper spray.
Endless arrays of message t-shirts
The heart of darkness
didn’t end with Colonel Kurtz.
Knock me out .I need a soporific
When every piece of shit is awesome, and amazing
Notice that nothing good is prolific.
Dark days, my friends.
Days to to rue.
When being an individualist
Means your nipples are pierced and you got a tattoo.
Peeps are networking on the net.
The best mind of our generations sharing views about reality TV,
to those they’ve never met.
When Allen Ginsburg wrote Howl
He couldn’t have foreseen that
It would be not suitable for Americas got talent’s producer-
Simon Cowell
No ghettoes, no hos
Just existential lows
Inertia, weary with ennui.
To be or not to be?
The Bard too is gone but we
have James Cameron.
Titanic 2 will be out next summer
Shiiiiit, alienation is such a bummer
Allz I know is that I'm DJ Ice Floe,
and I hope you permit me
to unharsh your low.
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Comments
Using that wrap.
Wrapping up yer content in easily digestible spurts of highfalutin verse for the
Higher than the Highbrows:
Them with relaxed brow.
Why relaxed brow?
To know such as you out there somewhere, perhaps confined
By a sentence of traumatic agoraphobia
Or intense social anxiety precipitated by violence on the Person.
Anyway…
“We need to get back the spirit
That Oprah is trying to steal”
Tis : spirit is not deterministically downtrodden, it is free.
Kerouac on a bus
On wifi wouldn’t be too bad to take.
It would be mild stuff from him.
Too clean this world.
Cleaner still they wanna make it.
Who? The Greenies.
Why? They hate those Red folks, all fundamentalist.
We are purple, and timidly dancing above the firmament.
Just existential lows
Inertia, weary with ennui
To be or not to be?
Erika: Thank you. My rapster name would be Raisinet as opposed to Eminem, see? What a generous comment. As James knows current agorophobia so can't get to any place like open mics.
Janie Again: I won't wish you another Happy birthday but I want to :>(. Much appreciated. Sadly, I have a good 20 more pages of this though it's too long as it is.
James: I posted this thinking "Mikey will like it" at least. The Mikey in question was you. You picked my favorite-- the oprah thing.
"To know such as you out there somewhere, perhaps confined
By a sentence of traumatic agoraphobia
Or intense social anxiety precipitated by violence on the Person."
Absolutely!!! How long is the sentence is the big question.
Thank you very much, James.
the crime is fluctuating.
in yer brain.
Crime and Punishment is what the mean streets of phantasmagorphic America
Is all about…just see Dr. Phil’s latest diatribe…or Oprah’s newest vitriol about
How she was treated unfairly cuz she was downtrodden when she was riding
Over the necks of her staff or audience or guests.
Or see the family or civil courts. Blah.
All ya gotta do is rap. Play with words. Change the damn fools’ language on them.
So that when they say, “well, under advisement of myself, I find 4 things offensive
In what u spontaneously said,
But 3 things giving me hope that you can someday see the errors of your
Incorrect thought,
And 2 things I dunno what the hell u talkin about,
And one thing that I found to be oddly mindblowing in a naughty way,
And herein is my blah blah to help you correct yerself…etc”
When they start spoutin such shit,
Simply shimmy to the side and outta the corner of yer mouth , nod,
And with the rest of yer face roll yer eyes (they will not see that but others will…)
And then say,
“good sense ya make, but I got t a go do something selfimprovin, scccccuse me.”
ha
mikey? poprock boy? eater of all?
hm.
of rapping to in a long while,
keeping rhytm to this treasure~
tapping my fingers and a smile.
Yo the best, Ferns!
R♥
We be needing you—Fran Leibowitz."
Pure poetry~~
Start pecking at the corpse
that is mass culture."
My favorite line.
Howevah...
Don't be dissin' on my 'tinis
they help me cope
The latte helps us
Monkeys climb our ropes
You don't like the bistro
Prefer Mickey D?
You keep that McRib
I'll take the short ribs.
Braised.
Peace out.
I dreamed we were in jail.
Ya had the best top bunk.
We never got gloomy or sad.
We stole sugar pack for wine.
I made wild Elderberry wine.
You snored and had hiccups.
Matt Paust was our jail guard.
He gave us bushels of fruits.
Spring ferns taste like limas.
Limas beans taste like ferns.
You know. That top fern curl.
Canadians love Spring ferns.
Lima bean honey is so sweet.
I best read this in a bunk bed.
I'm gorging on vegetable soup.
I wish you a non-jail New Year.
“Fernsy. I'' read this in bed.
I dreamed we were in jail.
Ya had the best top bunk.”
A lot of black men in jail w/art james.
The top bunk is paramount.
In jail.
………………………………………
Just existential lows
Inertia, weary with ennui.
To be or not to be?
To be.
For now, for 2012, to dare em to end it, the fuckers.
Shakespeare:
“For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death, —“
That dread. Existentialism.
Dread whatnot.
The fear of death is more to be dreaded than death itself.
…………………………….
When death is sweetest joy to come
What say we suicides?
We abortions?
We cannot consummate the deed, can we?
We wait, and trust, and have faith in something above or in front of us.
God help us, if he exists.
“Fernsy. I'' read this in bed.
I dreamed we were in jail.
Ya had the best top bunk.”
A lot of black men in jail w/art james.
The top bunk is paramount.
In jail.
………………………………………
Just existential lows
Inertia, weary with ennui.
To be or not to be?
To be.
For now, for 2012, to dare em to end it, the fuckers.
Shakespeare:
“For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death, —“
That dread. Existentialism.
Dread whatnot.
The fear of death is more to be dreaded than death itself.
…………………………….
When death is sweetest joy to come
What say we suicides?
We abortions?
We cannot consummate the deed, can we?
We wait, and trust, and have faith in something above or in front of us.
God help us, if he exists.