Diving into bath salts, raving flue that is as sicking as math, at least that is what I conclude from my findings presented to the court. Objection, objection, sir I don't see the connection, maybe your rhyme scheme needs perfection. Maybe it does, but ***** it, I'm blessed by God; baby please sit down and take a chill pill and just enjoy this buzz. Busting off, so back off, bout to prove my case like I’m Ace Attorney, oh and I know it’s off topic but if I lived in America, I would’ve voted for Bernie. What the **** am I on? Came to save the digital world you can call me a digimon, you bet I’m a champion! Serendipity dear deputy; I’ll be typically wittingly searching for some tranquility. What is the validity of this vicinity as I only accept notability and won’t let this become a liability!

Pathologically paraplegic hypochondriac with insomniac who be popping poems profusely perfect; while whimsically worm's try to be strategic, but sadly choke and lose it. Miles set apart; it certainly is not a strut in some park, but everyone has to start somewhere before they engrave their mark. Don't reside yourself to just being a silhouette, nor be one to toot your clarinet. Two sides to every person like Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde; be careful to not let your pride turn into carbon monoxide. For pride will always lead to your downfall, so please take off your iron curtain and tear down your Berlin wall. Improvident incongruous incredulous confidence; underwhelming astonishment of such fundaments of these heinous and callous acts of deceitfulness. Trickery of thy decadence; why art though jittery when you are full of benevolence? So used to getting what you want I bet; well this situation can not be fixed by dough, so I see why you are in a cold sweat! Fake confidence won't help you here especially when one lies; you made a mistake and will face the consequences and I am not one quick to forgive no matter how much you apologize.  

Don’t have time to consider your sensibility, because my life is going a twitter with too much hyperactivity for me to deal with your stupidity. Befittingly that I’ll be building up the intensity, to infinity and beyond goes this creativity of this anomaly. Not going to prolong this phenomenon, I’ll be going off like a Molotov over this intercom, yeah you better not ever underestimate this underdog. Lackadaisical are these other rappers; they’re so replaceable and incapable to be educational. Incomprehensible is this loop of hip-hop now a days, why can’t we be inspirational or is it to late because we left morals and substance back in the olden days. Can’t afford to be anchored anymore, I’ve poured in too much time to be just be locked behind some door. I refuse to be ignored and be left ashore; I am not worried about going into the storm; because you are bound to come across some things that need some work like chores. Spinning the wheel, reminiscing of how it felt when I no longer concealed who I was and my self-image had been healed.

Used to be reclusive & convinced myself that I was a duffass, but now I’m exclusive to being a smart ***. This is the new era, this is a new fire; it’s time to spice things up so better pull out the sriracha. Leading the revolution like I’m Che Guevara, I’m light as feather whatever the endeavor even if my life story doesn’t end up as pristine as Cinderella’s. Why so infatuated by worldly wants? Why so decorated when you can't hide the fact that you're the same basic *** font? Trying be something else, striving to be someone else, wanting to be anything else. You are who you are, if you think it will make things better you cucu, because in my eyes you are really a star. You have to expand your interpretation and perspective of life, you have to demand without hesitation a piece of that collective pie; because I believe everyone should be equal in this life.

Calculated bullets that go straight through my cranium; manufactured outlets that show great things but have also turned us into brainless aliens. Complicated hookups that grow irritating and become as unstable as uranium; what was once sacred has become as spontaneous as going to a gymnasium. Confiscated trinkets cast away and leaves those affected very irritate; while also simultaneously making apathetic souls that have gone through the same thing be able to understand, help or relate. Cultivated rebellious culprits that don't take the memo of being cooperative, instead they choose to be provocative and opposite of the other conglomerates. I’m so fascinated by this fabricated segregated supposedly liberated and sophisticated community; where-as some so foolishly stupidly amusingly think that everyone has the same equal chance at opportunity. Moderated, regulated and orchestrated where some are situated; if you don’t think that it has something to do with be affiliated to a certain demographic then maybe you never got educated in the affairs of those discriminated. It’s a good thing then that class is in session; so viewer or listener  please use discretion when taking time to witness or hear my position. Deafening out all ill whims; wrestling with these unsettling menacing fears and guilt from all of my sins.

Yeah no need for hallucinogens, all I need is two hydrogens and one oxygen. Rocking in my moccasins; so you can bet I am not one to drop my promises. Native honour who is also a innovative scholar and who was created not to falter. I may not be good with numbers, but I'm good at making sure you never slumber on my words; because I work on them day and night in my 36 chambers. Beware the pretender, they are manufactured by the vendors to keep us from being together. Defend your heart; be wise who you befriend and who you pick for your counterpart. There will be hurt and affection can be perverted, so know your worth and never ever let yourself be distorted. It is not your fault, it is not my fault, so then who is at fault? Is it just life in general? Is it because of the being who lives eternal? Is it all of the above? I don't know, but we shouldn't judge and instead choose to accept and love!

Pardon me Martin, but if this class were a prison I’d be the warden. I make the rules here and I took the tools given to me to get me here. So listen, please listen to my lesson that I have to present to you as class is still in session. Loading yawl with ammunition to be able to transition to be able to complete your goals or missions. No I’m not tripping, I’m driven  by a higher force to break away the old ways of thinking such as division. This is not the prohibition anymore, so please open your minds and join me on this expedition. Going into the unknown, so here’s to hoping you get through this, as time goes on and be able to look back at it we may feel like this was no more than a tiny but important milestone.  Achieve, believe, conceive, receive, intrigue, and succeed because I think you are unique. You are the only you in the whole galaxy, don’t let agony turn into tragedy; ***** anxiety; yeah and never let your dreams just be some fantasy.

Outro: Sit down class ain't over yet, forfeit those frowns or fake faint or try to jet. Lastly remember what transpired today; don't go hastily and forget about it on December break okay? For though class may be over, more days or years to come until its finally over. Though education ends, one never stops learning even on vacations with family or friends.  I hope you can look back with fondness, I hope you can stay on track in the future if you truly take the time to just focus. Is there truly an end or is this just the beginning to a new bend.

i marinade my fingers,
banana pepper juice, hot wing sauce, sriracha,
i beg you to come close enough so that
i can burn every inch of your lukewarm skin

i'm not looking for revenge
i just want you to know what it feels like
to be set on fire and live to talk about it
when the sun blazes tomorrow

i drank enough whiskey for ten men last friday
and followed familiar footfalls,
i held myself up on barstools and good friends
and watched the door, waiting,
confusing look alikes through blurred vision

when you finally sauntered in
i saw it in slow motion,
i felt absolutely nothing
except hammered and free

toaster strudel makes me doodle
eggo waffles feed my poodle
sriracha  hot sauce makes my gut toss
taco salad tastes like farts.
smarty thinkers with big wieners
clear the way for bathroom cleaners
dangerous pokemon in the sky
teach me things like how to fly
supple ******* against my chest
your ****** is hard and so are the rest
eat this pear
munch with care
put those shorts on
watch me stare
take a bath in tasty grease  
my wiener is small to say the least
now let's race inside this tub
we'll see who get's out first
should we get out?

Below my sleeping taste buds
a low gurgle is heard
(through my veins or skin?)
and the groggy bits of tongue
entice my need to feed
    --Something sweet, salty
        spicy and satisfying...

So wander, i did to the kitchen
so medium with cupboards filled
with boxes and bottles
cans and stretched stomachs
(too, so medium).
I reach for bread, a toaster
then milk and a mug.
I toast and zap,
then spread and rip
then pour, and oh! what more?

Aromas lifting my nose higher
than my need to feed.
A ding for warm milk,
and a splash from a spoon

Some spice? Squirt some Sriracha.
Salty? Add seasoning of garlic and pepper
The PB&J; classic: now advanced!
Warmed milk turned Cocoa
more splashing, then stirring, i made
L   U   N   C   H

Funny, as i bite into the
sweet, salty, spicy and savory sandwich
I look onto the spilled milk and Cocoa powder
and am reminded of the cosmos.

AVA:** drinking sriracha so that i can feel something
GRACE: *** how'd it go
AVA: not well
GRACE: *** ava u liar u r practically a genius
AVA: that's hilarious
AVA: sayS THE GIRL IN GENIUS MATH
GRACE: wish you were here
AVA: what???
GRACE: nvm, ignore me
GRACE: wrong person

GRACE: i'm sure ur test went fine

Keep packing the sand
grains deep in my brain,
back it up and prepare
for war, cancer climbs
its way down my throat and
nestles in my lungs. Choke me
with your flypaper ideas and rip
off the collected dust on my face.
Abstract art, cigarette love.
Illusions and spiky throats can't
talk or communicate effectively
like a frog with a tongue ring, I
may hook on your lips if you try to kiss
me. sriracha detergent... spin cycle on tremble

I like you like I like sunny days,
and sun rays,
and kittens,
and chocolate ice cream.
And you make me happy like that **** does.

I like you like I like my bed in the morning,
and my black out shades shut,
and watching Netflix in bed all day,
with my Christmas lights on.
And you make me feel warm like that **** does.

I like you like I like walking through the woods,
and staring up at the clouds,
and writing late at night,
and even talking to myself.
And I like you like I'm discovering something.

And I like you like I wasn't expecting you to come along,
like I haven't felt this way in a really long time,
like you keep me wondering.
like you're different.
And if I'm being completely honest,
I've never met another person as interesting as you.

I want you think about me like I think about you,
and I want you to like me like I like you,
and I want you to be able to know little bits about me that other people don't.
I want you to notice things that I'm not trying to show off, like my earrings,
I want you to notice things that are just for me,
And I want you to notice them purely because you're interested in discovering who I am too.

And I know whatever is going on between us has an expiration date,
and its not fair that time isn't on our side,
but I don't care that I only have a couple weeks with you,
because you've begun to awaken a part of me that I missed.
And it hurts sometimes,
but I don't mind the ache,
because you've already brightened a spark in me that was dim for too long.

And I don't want you to forget about me when I'm not there next year,
or over the summer,
or even this weekend.
I want you to think of me and always remember lazy mornings spent under my covers,
and late nights spent getting ****** and eating Sriracha and carrots,
and long days spent under the Mexican sun.

I want all this because I like you,
and I can't take it away,
and I can't lessen it,
and I can't apologize for it, and I'm not going to try to,
because, whether you realize it or not, you're helping me.

And the way I feel about you is so bittersweet,
and when this all ends it might break my heart,
because I think it already is.

I can't taste
I can't feel
no matter how many
layers i peel

i pour sriracha
on everything i eat
it's all i can do
to make it sweet

then you came along
to quench my thirst
what a joke
it just got worse

so i'm on a new mission
just need basics to survive
sriracha for my oatmeal
to keep me alive

Today
I did not think of you as much.

When you love someone for long enough,
You begin speaking their language.
You find yourself saying the same things,
Even stumbling over the same words;
I used to think it was silly the way she'd
Say "Spiracha" instead of "Sriracha,"
But love has a way of changing
The way you think,
Translating your old ways of
Thinking into something new.  
Intercultural.  Bilingual.

Jimmy Page rips into his guitar as I rip into some nachos,
Covered with some real toxic-spicy **** I accidentally created in the kitchen,
And suddenly Black Dog becomes an anthem to my agony.

The habanero peppers dig hooks in as the serannos and the jalapenos begin going to work,
Hitting me with staccato body blows,
Pausing but for a moment before laying in again.

It's as if the very air itself is aflame,
The sriracha's heat sears my throat and lungs,
With the cayenne peppers charring my stomach.

My eyes water,
I want to wail like Plant at the moment,
As sweat begins to gather on my brow,
The sickly sweet stink of the apple cider vinegar used laces the air and stings the nose,
****** hair practically gets singed as it passes.

Page let's loose a riff with his instrument that imitates my heartbeat,
As the heat finally grows too high.

I reach for my only lifeline,
Something almost as terrible as the devil's ketchup itself.

I take the mason jar and take a swig,
And another fire snuffs out the one currently raging in my esophagus and brain.

My breath fast,
Blinking hard and quick,
As the song fades along with a bit of my happiness at creating something so wicked,
As I grab another chip...

Dive kicked off the aspirin,
overdosed on vitamin D.
Up all night, celebrating,
properly sober;
properly hydrated,
properly fed.

Stomach ache from experimenting foods,
sriracha on salad and chocolate and eggs
threw it all over everything like "HADOUKEN!",
there's information floating on the wind everywhere
and most of it is ***** and cats,
people saying, "hey" and "yo" and "whats up?"

And I'm addicted to Tom Waits,
and probably ***, and probably the internet,
and probably video games and thinking,
but thinking about offing myself.
Genesis does what nintendon't
and lately every modern gaming console
simply just www.WillNot.
I guess we're all fantasizing till we stop.

Also, punk and jazz will not mix well,
my grandfather wrote me from the grave
just to say so.
He says the rent isn't so bad,
but the landlord is the ******* devil,
although there's a room for me to move in.
I just might if I don't get medicated,
for right now I'm whimsical
and singing up and off key.

All these zombies are feeling my vibe
with their teeth and fingernails,
and affection never felt so good
from such a friendly crowd.
I don't get out much anymore,
I'm slipping into old habits
more often because I'm lonely
and melancholic and bored.

It's all right or whatever.

poetry with two spoons and a salt shaker

~for poet, writer, Lora Lee, unexpectedly~

my symphonic orchestral accompaniment today, musically
unlimited, except by lack of disowning skill, a voice unkempt,
spoons and salt shaker, there in-nate rhythmic opinions off key,
worse, my manly word-smithy, out o’town in June, July, August too?

He, having an affair with my she-muses, left me bereft & berated,
helplessly hoping, the timpani of my words clashing, overrated,
woeful under-something, betraying my need for spicy sriracha,
poetry, sans hamburger helper, no-tasty, even less-than-average

everyone comes rushing in to the kitchen, hearing my to-sky-voices
howling, thinking something wrong, the four instruments rack up a cacophony of rhythmic-less noises, words emerging, to-a-person, they announce, “you’re no Allen Ginsburg, ppp-please not so early next time”

alas, they don’t know the poems are coming hot and heavy, guess I’ll
go outside, serenade them birdies in the trees, the striped bass in the bay, the rabbits procreating/sleeping/eating under their (our) dock

the squirrels know better, have skedaddled to the next-door-neighbor who feeds them classical stuff with a dollop of jazz creme mixed in, but I don’t care, cause I got all day, the rest of my life, to amuse me & you too

to refine the qualitative, to improve my creative, I’ve gone “native” and the rush is the best, the wind beneath my spectacles (haha) drives my rhyming to lowlight heights of prosody, besides seems

everybody has gone to a different beach, so it’s just me and the giant blackbirds cawing holy hell noises, and I’m thinking seriously about baking pie, but they just don’t get the hint, how annoying is that!

harrumph!

BESIDES GOTTA WRITE SOME SERIOUS STUFF...

They are telling me to have a mentality of hakuna matata,but if really knew me, I like things to have a little heat to it like sriracha. No chakra for me please, for I am real, I say things as is, not to crazy about starting off with the story of the birds and the bee's. That **** is some true b.s, for real man, awkward talks can get thrown out in the trash cans. Kumbaya my lord, I can't handle these foolish people that conspire with their idiotic deeds, they must be full of a bunch of ****. I proceed to take out these exceeds, that pray onto beads like some kind of cult or creed. What the **** is wrong with us, hanging onto lost values, no wonder it's so easy for you to say in God you trust. Gentiles and philistines lined along with their hypocrisy, is there a way where we can cure this disease. I speak about real deals, to eventually help this world fully heal. Although no body wants to hear me, maybe I am just not speaking clearly or maybe everything is becoming to **** weary. Where be the hope, where be the believe, offended offenders roasting each other as if they are beef. So what makes you have the authority to tell me to chill and sing kumbaya at camp, when people are struggling to get some food stamps. You have no idea, to blind and privileged entitled bricks, you are the reason why future generations will continue being privileged entitled *****. No time to take a chill pill or check all the haters emails, it time to be real it's time for our society to finally begin to prevail. All hail no one, we are all equal, no one is more great than the other, everyone is one with one another. Oh brother, did I just say something that makes sense, because your looking a little tense, playing the defence.