Saturday, October 28, 2006

Six Word Story

In the spirit of this Wired Magazine feature I give you my own six word story (with apologies to Ray Bradbury):

Once, books were printed. Now? Burned.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Heading to Hollywood: #6

The CONTRACTOR, oh, where should I begin?
Blueblocker shades? The beard used as a chin?
The seven inches of expos-ed chest?
The hopeful-hopeless comb-over (the best!)?
So many points there on that tasteless chart
That pointed to a sad and wounded heart:
"That fuckin' bitch," he said with great ado,
"If I see her, I tell you what I do."
He ne'er finished that thought, got too choked up.
"Fuckin' slut. Fuckin', goddamned whore, coked up
Ev'ry day and then, what? She gets it all.
She's laughin' now, yeah, shoppin' at the mall
On my motherfucking Roosevelt dime."
Oh, love's a cliff! The meek, they dare not climb!
"I'll show her, though," he said it more than twice,
"The sun, the sand, the girls. Shit, this sounds nice."
He planned on making cash with swimming pools,
"A great biz: take your time and milk the fools.
'I'm sorry, lady, hit shallow bedrock.
You want it quick, you can just suck my cock.'"
Where was he from? Westchester? Manhattan?
No, sir, from that island they named Staten.

[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here.]

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Heading to Hollywood: #5

There was a guy, was just about my age.
Figured when he arrived he'd be the rage.
He was a RAPPER, called himself G-man,
And claimed Snoop knew his stuff and was a fan.
I know 'cos he was working on a line
Describing how he'd headed out to find
The fame the five buroughs had denied him.
It was terribly mean and deadly grim.
And also premature, if you ask me,
I'll say it but not claim it's quality:
"You bitches think you know me, suck my dick,
I never showed you nothing, you a trick.
Think I should owe you something, get in line,
Your shit is ugly, fucker, mine is fine."
Yeah, that's what I remember as the best,
(And I won't bother to repeat the rest -
Most all his rhymes, they had an awful slant,
And I was never sure just what they meant.)
I know that I'm supposed to think it's art,
But I prefer that music have some heart -
I'd rather Dylan, Pearl Jam or the Dead
Than any lyric that the rapper said.
Vernacular! Give shit a fancy name
And some claim it and Dante are the same.

[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here.]