fitty 9

I remember now how heading home should mean:
don’t forget the swords, the fairies and donations, love; kids still
need to be assured that myth is built
to make you feel like flight, just
write it down before it flits away
rhymes thus become a quilt for conscience
I thought I was I be I stop I
got it all before your
bricks of emotion, circumstance and sentiment got caught up
in their little glass jars, glinting in overcast light;
the only thing between them and the sky,
hood for suburbs, keeping all appearance under wraps

fitty 8

I guess all my protestations

don’t amount to nothing, guess I

need this chance

to bitchslap the shit out of you What you

write always does my head in, see? My sonnet

rhymes, why are yours always so half-arsed?

I love you still, even being a cunt, you

got in my head and your murders stick as

bricks to build and break

into little pieces Yet in

the end, all its underrated glory glow

hoodwinks us But, I guess, that’s what’s left to hope for

fitty 7

in the town where I was born kids
don’t respect their elders – they
need remembrance’s little pills
to jolt their heads back into place
write scripts on their sleeves,
rhymes to rock that gentle night away
I had it once, but not again
got to drink back to the end of skulls
(bricks that fall
in my line of sight
the credits roll my bank account
hooded monks that softly claw electric funds

fitty 6

I should‘ve told jase, but
don’t say anything, he
needs too amazingly, can’t pretend
to like him now. true, we
write each other, but he’s stuck on
rhymes and that got tired years ago
I used to dig it,
got right into that word-around-us kinda shit,
bricks to build a better place
in this west bumfuck of a blurb,
the yanks though do it better anyhow.
hood your eyes, my friend, and lid your pen, go sleep

fitty 5

I’m looking out for you

don’t freak out no

need for alarm

tonight’s a night for celebration, bitches

write us songs for shiny kids

rhymes are such pretty little chimes right

I see that you’re a keeper

got a question for you though; those

bricks in rows look lovely don’t you think

in the bible there’s a parable

the early rapstar gets his

hood smacked out, so try relax a bit

fitty 4

I stopped you from doing it before
don’t make me do it again. I’ve seen
needles and the damage done;
to ask for teaspoons means to tempt that fate
write your name across my heart –
rhymes with art, but also f…
I was watching that –
got a sister? how I’d love to lay you both like
bricks – am I being too formal?
innocence is like smack once you get on…
the song says it feels so good in my
hood – wish they’d make more sense

fitty 3

I was born in molong

don’t act like you don’t know

need we crawl through that again, fly back

to that backtrack piece of crap,

write a claptrap letter to a jacked-up past already scrapped? molong

rhymes with so long and I thought

I made that out – you

got it, right? under

bricks that pass as home we live

in murk, block our eyes, hide

the pupils of our souls; can’t see under that old

hood; put it on and pull down tight

fitty 2

I feel bad for what my brother said.

don’t be fooled; we look alike, but…

need seems such a dirty word

to build relationships, you oughtta

write: an email, card, hell hallmark

rhymes would beat your stupid muttered crap – dear diary

I can’t think of how you look, you

got into my head somehow, but all that’s left is

bricks, not glass– jesus has a lot of friends

in rome, you couldn’t say paul’s

the only one, he’s just some thick young

hood who grew too fast, has a thing for cricket bats

fitty 1

I fling these words to the world; how could they land

don’t wonders cease on sweaty blades of grass?

need wasn’t always an imperative

to err is to think the first fault again

write – a country failure grows closer apart

rhymes with meaning muttered into sleeves

I one of the characters in the plot

got sorrow, give more

bricks touch each other, repulsed

in future love eats itself, intensely

the parting hair stars watch on

hooded snakes tell stories all their own

fitty

the next few (or so) poems will probably come from a sequence i'm working on using a (mis)quote from Fifty Cent's song "High All the Time" ("i don't need to write rhymes, i got bricks in the hood"). hope u enjoy!!!
o yeah...sorry i haven't posted anything for a minute, my laptop died :'(