Category: Uncategorized

The day I stop giving a fuck
Is the day the fuckers win. Even if
All around me are losing their fucks
And blaming the same fucking thing.

These fucking times we live in
Are the only times we possess
And how history’s proved,
When our fucks are removed,
We end up in the same fucking mess.

You may feel disenfranchised,
A screw in a fucking machine,
But a fuckload of us all giving a fuck
Can at least make the fucker run clean.

Don’t blame generations above you,
Claim their aim is to fucking forsake us,
Mankind survives on fucks supplied
By those who fucked to make us.

But beware the fucks in sheep’s clothing
Who declare only they give a fuck
But who don’t give a fuck about reading the notes
While they’re tearing the rulebooks up.

If you think your fucks don’t make a difference,
That the system remains just the same,
Then some fucker wins through who will fuck over you,
Then you lose your right to complain.

Stop passing the buck,
Let’s pass on our fucks,
Let the age of fuck-giving begin.
The day we stop giving a fuck
Is the day the fuckers win.

A shadow of a man I used to be
A bag of bones brittle and broken you can see
A stray dog would not even nibble upon me

I made it here by the grace of God
It’s the only reason that makes sense to me
The places I used to dwell; Hell bound indeed

Pitiful sorrow drowning in drugs
Swimming in disease if you please
My friends all demons wanting the worst for me
Got their wishes fulfilled you see

A beacon of light through the fog I see
An illusion or lie or could it actually be
A hand of help reaching out just for me

Nothing to lose its all been lost
but this hand I grab and it grabs me
The grip unbreakable as it drags me upon
a raft of hope to a path of light
to save my soul to Serenity Lane

In Kyoto, the hawks circle over Gion
Seeking no prey above the traveled streets
Where the crow unheeded passes cherry trees by.

The steps of Kodai-ji are emptied now,
And clouds close in on Higashiyama’s crests –
In Kyoto, the hawks circle over Gion.

Night rain heavy air drags at the cherry blooms
Flowing down the mountain side to the gate
Where the crow unheeded passes cherry trees by.

Heavy as headstones the stain-shot sky hangs
Over the fir-lined stone block steps up the hill –
In Kyoto, the hawks circle over Gion.

A breeze – squeaking the wet tree tops, waving
The black-ribbed cherry trees, grazes the roofs
Where the crow unheeded passes cherry trees by.

Now down the steps on sandaled feet, seeming
Asleep, a monk comes who does not see how
In Kyoto, the hawks circle over Gion
Where the crow unheeded passes cherry trees by.

HANGMAN, HANGMAN, HANG IN LOOSE
I GOT NOOSE FOR YOU
I’M NOT GONNA DIE TODAY
SO, NOW WHATCHA GONNA DO?
AND HE GRABBED MY LEGS
HE STABBED MY CHEST
HE TRIED TO KILL ME
WITH A BOY SCOUT KNIFE
BUT WHEN I SHOUTED AKELA
HIS FACE GREW PALER
HE TRIED TO TAKE HIS OWN LIFE, I SAID
HANGMAN, HANGMAN, HANG IN LOOSE
I GOT NOOSE FOR YOU
YOU’RE NOT GONNA DIE TODAY
SO, NOW WHATCHA GONNA DO? HE SAID
WELL, SOMEONE’S GOT TO DIE
SOMEONE’S GOT TO DIE
THE CROWD ARE GETTING RESTLESS
THEY’RE HERE TO HEAR A DEATH WISH
SO, IT’S YOU OR I
AN EYE FOR AN EYE
BUT SOMEONE’S GOT TO DIE
I SAID, WHAT DID I DO?
HE SAID, BOY, YOU KILLED
I SAID, SO DO YOU
HE SAID, BOY, I’M SKILLED. I SAID
HANGMAN, HANGMAN, HANG IN LOOSE
I GOT NOOSE FOR YOU
GOD HAS TOLD ME I’M INNOCENT
SO, NOW WHATCHA GONNA DO?
AND HE CALLED FOR GOD
AND GOD HE CAME
AND AS HE DID
IT STARTED TO RAIN
AND THE CROWD DISPERSED
THEY WENT TWO BY TWO
AND GOD CAME DOWN, AND SAID
HERE’S WHAT WE’LL DO, HE SAID
HANGMAN, HANGMAN, HANG IN LOOSE
I GOT NOOSE FOR YOU
THE REST OF THE WORLD’S ON NOAH’S ARK
SO, NOW WHATCHA GONNA DO?
AND I SAID, WHAT ABOUT ME?
HE SAID, YOU’RE MY SON
I SAID, YOU REALLY MEAN I’M THE CHOSEN ONE?
HE SAID, YES, YOU ARE, SO GET INSIDE
COS TOMORROW MORNING
YOU’LL BE CRUCIFIED
WELL, SOMEONE’S GOT TO DIE
SOMEONE’S GOT TO DIE
THE CROWD ARE GETTING RESTLESS
THEY’RE HERE TO HEAR A DEATH WISH
SO, IT’S YOU OR I
AN EYE FOR AN EYE, BUT
SOMEONE HAS GOT TO DIE.

I etch it in parchment,
now I can calque it in cement
– I meant it, though parched,
since I chanced upon
you – you are
panacean penchant
for me. Me, in
chanting phase,
change of pace.
You enchant apace.
For once,
benevolence bends valence,
hence
be set-in.
Besetting bed-wetting
of a love still young,
or above, still, yang.

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For some it starts
with fashion.
Pegged pants, t-shirts, facial hair.
Or the lack of it.
Then music.
Jazz, rock, hip-hop.
Then the hair.
Then the clothes.
Then the music.
Fast cars, big cars,
small cars. Electric cars.
One day you’re on
the cutting edge,
dancing nights away
fueled on drugs
and alcohol, the next
you hear for the first time
the name of the most
popular singer in the world.
Wonder where you’ve been.
Then realize even your children
have aged out of contests
open to beginners aged 18 to 35.
You are part of the past
captured in photographs
of women with beehives,
soldiers in field ops,
crowded streets where
no one is masked,
and obituaries of icons
in every category
and class who have
been there with you
from day one.
Like impeachment,
it’s a process where
you might never hold
public office again.

Genres: Dark, Death, Funny, Hurt, Love, Relationships, Romantic, Sad, Rhyme

I have been struck by lightning, twice,
once in the neck, once in the Trossachs.
I crawled out of a crash with whiplash
and made a bleeding, limping dash
across the border. Armed guards fired.
I’ve stowed away on boats and planes
and jumped from high-speed, foreign trains.

You keep the curtains closed all day
and never come out before dark.
It’s a wonder we ever met.
I found you wandering the streets
like Aphrodite in a nightie.

I’ve been in fights, been read my rights.
I changed my surname by deed poll
and still got chased by Interpol.
I’ve phoned from every call box,
mailed cards from every post box,
just to tell you, ‘I’m on my way
and getting closer every day.’

When I crawl up your garden path,
your mum tells me to go away.
I can’t go on, I can’t go back.
When you wake in the morning
you will find me dead on your doorstep.

I tell U,
The history of our people
Lead us to beautifully colored rainbow lands
But we should never forget where we started
So I take U on the journey tossing away all your stereotypes

Classical artists from Harlem Renaissance tell our story in hidden messages
And oh how they did it
They would tease the listeners

Who think we’ve got it all figured out
I mean whichever side of the sexual tracks U grew up on
It really doesn’t matter
Whether U top / bottom
Or play it straight

We all share an aching need to be blissfully lost,
Lost in the magic of their words
From James Baldwin to E. Lynn Harris
We trust when time right
U will lead us home-

From Langston Hughes to Essex Hemphill
We trust when time right
U will lead us home-

From Zora Neal Hurston to Audre Lorde
We trust when time right
U will lead us home-
We trust U…
Langston Hughes
Countee Cullen
Bruce Nugent
Zora Neal Hurston
James Baldwin
Audre Lorde
Essex Hemphill
Joseph Beam
Assotto Saint
Marlon Riggs
Isaac Julien
Bayard Rustin
E. Lynn Harris
&
all the talented tenth in between

Dale Guy Madison
daleguymadison.com
mylifein3easypayments.com
twitter & instagram @damngoodman

Leroy my neighbor had some lottery luck
But he went off and blew it all on a big old monster truck
Now he can’t afford to drive it
The gas cost too much
Leroy’s old lady she packed and left
She was pissed that Leroy was only thinking of himself
But if I know Leroy
He wasn’t thinking at all

And I’m just sitting on the front porch getting high
Watching my street passing by

Wendy Lou the widow lives across the street
She keeps bringing strange men over for something to eat
I don’t know what she’s cooking
But you never see those strangers again
She invited me for dinner just the other night
Said she was in the mood for something tasty and white
But I politely declined
For reasons clearly obvious

And I’m just sitting on the front porch getting high
Watching my street passing by

Tommy the mailman weighs over four hundred pounds
Everybody’s amazed how fast he makes his rounds
He says the secret to his speed
Is all in his shoes
So I went online ordered fifty-three pair
One for each week and one to spare
But I don’t move no faster
Cause I ain’t going nowhere

And I’m just sitting on the front porch getting high
Watching my street passing by

Little Bobby Jenkins is the kid that lives next door
He’s a mean little bastard, the kind you can’t ignore
He throws rocks at my windows and tries to lynch my cat
Before he gets much older, I know what I’m gonna do
I’m gonna get me a pit bull
The kind that likes to chew
Little bastard kids
And their bastard parents too

And I’m just sitting on the front porch getting high
Watching my street passing by

Sad Old Henry lives in the gray house to my left
But no one ever sees him
He keeps completely to himself
He has everything delivered
By a man dressed in black
There’s a rumor that a woman broke his heart in two
And fifty years later He’s still got the blues
Man, I wish I had me a memory…half that sweet

And I’m just sitting on the front porch getting high
Watching my street passing by

Freddy Jones the salesman is a very proud man
But he lost his job a year ago, now he’s living hand to hand
And the bank where he does business
Doesn’t care or understand
So Freddy Jones and family are moving out next week
Corporate downsizing has kicked them in the street
And the rich get richer
Everybody else just moves

And I’m just sitting on the front porch getting high
Watching my street passing by

I used to be a soldier stationed in Iraq
But when I lost a leg or two
They had to send me back
I ain’t bitter
I just don’t dance as cool
Now the goverment sends me money that barely pays the rent
I guess it’s just their little way of showing some repent
You know “support the troops” and all that…stuff

Now my neighbors all around me stop by to pay respect
They wanna to see those medals hanging from my neck
But I gave ’em all to Leroy
So he can buy some gas
Sometimes this world is beautiful, sometimes this world is mean
It all depends on how you look at everything you’ve seen
And I’ve seen plenty
On the street where I live

And I’m just sitting on the front porch getting high
Watching my street passing by

Not a single heart
among a nameless, faceless, uniformed mob
Informed by a system intent to do more harm
than good
Uninformed of the way in which they wear a uniform
that makes them see monsters
beneath every hood
And every mask—don’t bother to ask questions
Answers don’t matter now
as long as you stand
with Black Lives Matter, man
Knock an old man to the ground
and walk away
while his ears bleed
Shoved him down without need,
without cause built
To offer help
is to offer an admission of guilt
That’s how you’re trained to see things
instead of how to think
things through
in order to do the right thing
Then claim he tripped and fell
like how JFK’s brains just fell
out of his head, too
Whose law is at work in this disorder?
And are there any borders you’re unwilling to cross
to establish the right order?
And what good could ever come of this,
the way it is and the way it’s been,
for anyone
—including you—
who isn’t sat atop the pyramid?
It’s a scheme
where they sell dreams
to everyone who stands beneath
their privilege
Because it seems
as though there’s something
more important for you to do
Than to be a brother or a sister
to your fellow citizens
Who you now see as merely wOkE denizens
Of a world that’s rightfully yours,
the lawfully good
I would laugh if I could
but it’s an awfully bad joke