The Ugly Truths

What if I only sought to use words in a way that rendered someone senseless? Depriving them of basic skills that left them only fit for stone and rock. Their feet would have an excess of dead skin. Yabba Dabba Doo. You’re running all your life chasing Wilma. What? You think you’re going to create your future with Jane and produce a Judy. Fuck that, you won’t get someone to carry on your name with some good sense like an Elroy with Astro.

Your seed will be stupid, rugged, and always looking for the next treat. Yep, that’s right. The best you could produce is a Shaggy with a dumbass like Scooby-Dooby-Doo. But this is real life so you’re a Scooby-Dooby-Don’t. You Don’t take risks; you Don’t take life by the reins. You’re a red-nosed reindeer because all the ambitious reindeer slapped you on your nose, making it bleed and making you cry. Why are you crying, you cowardly Lion? Did Dorothy hurt you before she clicked her heels home? Or do you not get what I’m saying because your head is full of hay…Scare-Crow? Or are you just a Scared-Ho with no heart and having your buns beat to the sound and tempo of a Tin-Man?

So what is it all really about? This post, this note, this expression of dubious thoughts. Do I need your facial expression dubbed within the pages? Nope, I don’t require your FaceBook. I don’t need you to like me or join my group. We don’t have any mutual friends mostly because I’ve blocked you from my life. Still, the question hasn’t been answered as to the purpose of this post.

Well, here it is: My mind is a conglomeration and an amalgamation of thoughts that coalesce to form the rugged, the mire, the bull, but please hold the shit. Take the shit and scoop it into a bucket of blood and wait on the next prom queen. I don’t mean to Carry any individual…hold up, I mean Carrie any individual but somebody has to pay the price for my wicked thoughts. Thoughts, Thawts, Tawts, Tawt….I Tawt I saw a Puddy Cat with my penis inside.

That’s just an invasion of privacy, excuse me, and Invasion of Pussy and I’m about to squeeze that milk into that egg and make some Cornbread. Are you going to eat your Cornbread? Well, that’s Life. I’m not Martin, I’m not Eddie, but I’m going to always deliver my speech in a state of Delerium, Raw…

But this Raw won’t be on Monday night. Can you smell what the Rock is cooking? No. But I know what’s cooking the Rock - a crackhead. And he’s about to sell his mother’s couch. Yep, that motherfucker is Tyrone Biggums, ashy lips and all. Chappelle’s Show, how the hell did you know that most times you keep it real, it goes wrong? All up in the club, faking just because every bill in your wallet is a dub. But are the dubs in your wallet or on your ride? That’s right, in today’s time only having dubs on the whip is damage to your pride.

Well, I’m fucked up. I’m not all there.
This shit was all connected to overlook the fact that my brain’s not there.
See you soon or see you never
But isn’t it amazing that even fucked up my mind is clever?

I’ve created this prose, I’ve started this writing
In the words of Missy, don’t start beat biting
I am a master of the pen
If you think otherwise, challenge me then

My thoughts are fucked, so are you
Which is why when I cum you do, too
I see clearly all that is blurry
I miss the days when my ex’s Caribbean cooked me curry

I’ve mixed a story with a poem
I know you think, “I wanna know him.”
Maybe one day this will be true
Congratulations, you’ve already met D2…