Archive | September, 2013
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The Tunnel is Closed

30 Sep

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The Button

30 Sep

John frantically searched for his button. It had fallen out of his pocket when he had pulled his pack of cigarettes from his left pocket. It fell to the ground and rolled across the floor, he had lost sight of it as it navigated through the legs of the people getting off the J train. He did not know exactly where it had wandered off to but it was rather in a deep crevice a few feet in front of him or it had rolled off of the subway platform.

He was now rushing through the crowd to investigate the crevice, all of the caulk weathered away and left a narrow six inch slash in the cement floor. Panicking, he pulled out his phone to use as a flashlight, getting flashbacks of his dad heading for the garage door of their house leaving the Davises as a family of two. Two sounds haunted John throughout his life: the sound of his dad’s car peeling out of the driveway and the sound of that white ivory button peeling off his father’s cardigan as he shoved 12 year old John off of him on his way to the door. But now the button was lost.

After inspecting the crevice for several moments John concluded the button was not there and must have fallen off of the platform. Does he dare jump down the platform to retrieve his last memento of his apathetic father? Here he is, a 52 year old 6 foot 1 high school principal about to risk his life for a button. He stood there trying to imagine himself calmly waiting for the C train to arrive and going home, leaving the button on the dirty subway tracks forever. His shoulders relaxed and he smiled a bit at the thought. Suddenly, he noticed the subway tracks beginning to tremble. As if it was instinct, he dropped down the platform, picked up the white ivory button off of the tracks, and jumped up to the platform just as the train started braking.

John’s shoulders were tense and his smile had disappeared as he boarded the train.

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29 Sep

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29 Sep

The story is

The million dollar profits

and ravaged and razed souls in the cemetery

are part of different stories.

Much like a cart and an ox

Used up and left for dead

but they the only option

The pathways to heaven are large

but they’re narrowed by the funnels

and called tunnel, opportunities.

 

 

I command respect from the masses

half playing half serious like Cassius

For every dollar made

A punch to the heart exclaimed.

Criticisms of modern history

Lay blowing in the wind

Its much too long a story

More than a several handlers

Led to where it lies now

But you just see it with the wind

Like that is the only option

Like thats the way it should be

Has to be

 

 

I recline to chill

retrospection on introspection

leaves me cheesing

smiles that were previously stolen from me

 

 

As I inhale

A breath is stolen

A brain wrinkles

As a heart sinks

 

 

Pass the rifle

BLAH BLAH bourgeois

It’s time to roll out

out of bed

hearing stories of the dead

opportunities are wasted

Its because of the hatred

The underlying gimmick is the huge roll of linen

enormous in size

the only thing in sight

all cut from the same cloth.

Lies of amber grain

Pies of propaganda

For every ball hit off that bat

Another fallen soldier

Street Disciple

Philosophical gangster

Too many thoughts

they deviate from reality

So he’s lost until the world finds him

Until each track is laid until the end of days

Centers of vanity and distraction

Filler

Fluff

Than the meat comes in

Emptied out and candy coated.

Video

Today’s Song of the Revolution is:

24 Sep

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=i4CChz4DjQE&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Di4CChz4DjQE