Dirt Bag

Enter my dream world

Oh what luck to find this nymph!

Addicted to porn

Withering Blooms

Strong swift breeze floats by

A noxious scent follows you

Did someone just fart?

F*ck you, Haiku

It is with great pleasure that I announce a new installment of the Landing Pad! A daily haiku brought to you for your enjoyment. Each day,17 syllables of  insightful perspective, reflection on nature, and the address of common problems our society faces today whether it's ugly chicks, light pollution, or penis envy (that's you, not me). Even a stab at Doo Doo Mamas of America! I promise you won't be let down. However, if you are a true connoisseur of prose and poetry and manage to stumble across the haiku series you'll probably be little more than slightly nauseous in which case I'd recommend that you pop some Skittles and chill the fuck out. Really excited about this...no, the picture is not entirely relevant, I simply hoped to evoke a similar level of disgust with the series to come.

J Dilla Artwork

Everyday R.I.P J Dilla...chances are, if you ever spit to an instrumental that blew your mind or tried to track down "that one sick beat" it was the work of the master JD. This work was entered in the J Dilla Tribute Contest. What's with the donut? Maybe the ill tape Donut Shop...I really feel terrible for not having a larger feature for JD but I'm absolutely sure that there will be many many more to come  *right click, save link as...enjoy...Mmm good

MLK

I was digging through the dusty old files that my mom kept and I came across this little number that I thought to share with you. I wrote this poem as part of a writing assignment in the 8th grade as a tribute Alex Haley's novel Roots: The Saga of an American Family. Fun fact, it won 3rd place in an island wide poetry contest though in reality there were probably three entries (c'mon St. Thomas)...please enjoy this nonetheless. Also keep in mind these were my younger years ;) 


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A Struggle Deeper Than Thought

The Struggle, the trouble, the people, the hassles

Like brothers fighting brothers, we are in mental shackles

My people were beaten, captured, shipped on boats packed like mice

Only to be sold, enslaved to pick cotton and rice

Proud African men protecting their families with their lives!

While the white me beat and rape our girl children and wives

Plotting plans to rebel, listening to stories of redemption

The white toubob call us a name that today we can't mention

This will one day Passover, the wise one tells us

Yet our children to come must sit in the back of a bus

Kept strong in our journey though dust filled our boots

We stayed steadfast in the effort to rediscover our Roots

And now looking back at the challenges we faced

We came together like the thread of a beautiful sarong

The Mandinka woman has laced

And as I look back at the battles we fought

This was a journey, a struggle, one deeper than thought.

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 Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness ~~ Martin Luther King Jr.

Breathe Out

I crinkle and crumble

torn pages in my fist

Above and below the surface

leaden questions arise

in a wisp of smoke

Close my eyes and see

the world in frozen frames

Click. Snap. Flash.

They kill the ones who dream

Breathe in,

I have nightmares

Exhale,

I am still a Dreamer

so I cry at night.

Restless