a note to my old friends

we use to

carry backpacks with notepads and pens and markers and black books
we were young and we didn't understand the talent we possessed but as I
look back and reflect...I really think the time is now, we're older,
our backs have carried burdens
we've had our fights
and failures to count...now my brothers
I call you to once again work to achieve that which you've
blessed me with yr nights late in the studio smoking and drinking and
writing

long drawn out poems

that give grins
on nights like this

shit we're really good at rapping

I mean really FUCKIN good

we stuttered on session tape we've giggled to farts
we're the last of stinking poem bums............:::::::::::::::::
""""""""""""""""""""::::::::::::::::::LLLLLLLLLLLLLLL... dead beats

fear the pen fear the writer that doesn't fear
to :::::::::::::::::::::put his chips on selling out

never folds

and is

always empty handed


for this man will raise to power

and destroy **********************the art
that has destroyed %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%the flame

market is flooded with fairies
writing uplifting GOD poems
and angels
with saintly halos

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^IIIIIIMMMMMM
NN.NOT.OOO...T.T.T.T.T.T.T.

SCARED TO VENTURE into
the unknown ((paper)) w/o~~~~~~~~~ my trusty ##########2pen
that has held my hand for so long
that it forms my songs

with only heart and god