@@Enter The Dalurism@@

Park [A Poem]

2011-10-16T23:23:00.000-07:00

Park

I felt you once,
whispering in my ear,
that day at the park,
while I kissed your eyelids.
Blushing,
you glimpsed my breath,
wavering through each tender film.
Unsure of thier worth,
my lips snapped a portrait,
to be swallowed at a later date,
I quietly sigh and eyed.
Glancing down,
our hands intertwined, lovers snakes,
writhed to find the others niche,
clamboring for heat.
Dying to ebb closer,
every puddle of your denim dress
rippled towards me,
wetting my skin, a cloth embrace.
Breaking our heartbeats silence,
lay a whole note,
adeptly scrawled down my throat,
wishing you could read it,
a scar, and I, scared to sing it.
Deftly fingering each solitary strand of midnight,
my prints billow into the rise of your falling locks,
like daylight braille.
This serpentine tongue,
blindly gestured down a nubile neck,
while tastebuds count the days,
searching for love's mounding nests.
Folding over the crest of this womans worth,
parade my teeth,
scrambling towards her pair of pink silver dollars,
adorning a treasured chest.
Your legs sat, quivering,
each lithe trunk locked, teetering,
at the foot of the bench,
waiting to be opened.
A key, piece of evidence,
evident in heavens breath,
sent me your verdict, screaming,
tears chaining each cheek.
I regret not having listened to your gaze, cooing,
cat calling these sorry loins,
begging to strip me of heartache and clothing.
With mouth ajar, words, such tumbling puppies, fell out,
previously held together with a thread of doubt,
and unraveled anew in passion's lap, sleeping.
Twin gumdrops, prayed to the clouds, free,
stiffened by gasping exhalation,
nipples sacrificed, drowning in my wanton mouth.
Unable to speak, I read your lips,
muted by your ever mesmerizing moan,
a battle cry of soldiered flesh,
tmpered with the mettle of young love.
Pressing, pawing, almost clawing at my head,
hands, sweet gemini, guide me lower,
adventuring down your lavender scented landing strip.
A plain tongue,
taxied across your tan no mans land,
with gentle brush sweeping my face,
kissing me with fond welcome.
Bidding adéu to your cumulus, I forget my baggage,
and fall head first into your folds, traipsing,
sliding along each svelte lip, lapping
every iota of ambrosia, a thirsty man.
Burying my face,
I cared not of another breath,
lest it consist of your sex,
inhaling liquid sustenance,
with honeyed lungs, dead and alive.
Loving you inward and outward,
looking forward and back,
tasting each dying sorrow, melting,
wilting, into this temperate flower.
Hips rocking, bucking, flailing,
almost to the point of succumbing,
a seeming voodoo priestess,
you smother me whole.
Reaching out, groping, awash
between the banks of woman,
I grasp handfuls of
earthen breast, tugging myself
onto the shore of love's chest.
Sated, a saviour savored,
as the lioness lounging
or marionette unstrung,
She collapses.
Breathless, dehydrated,
spent, lust's refugee,
He cowers over her body,
a passionate falcon,
guarding his take.
Watching such spectacle from afar,
the average loner can't equate, yet
walking closer, might mistake,
a hulking mass for love mishaped.
Two bodies, tangled,
a mess of limbs,
dangling,
resting gently upon a bench,
tired, dead.
Nouveau conspirators
who died for the moment,
and lived to please,
met once in the park.

Love [A Short Poem]

2011-09-09T22:51:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, September 6, 2011 at 8:07pm

A Short Love Poem

"Love, do you see me

dangling off of every weather vane,

no matter the direction..

wishing I had a better brain,

for detecting your affection?

Sometimes I stand on buildings,

all ten toes kissing the ledge,

just to have an edge,

on these other guys

whose heart bewilders you,

n yet I keep falling as a friend.

Never caught,

except when absconding with a stare,

my neck don't turn too quick,

so when I turn ur standing there.

With a smile,

I choke up

a sordid hi,

but know in the back of my soul,

that I could probably never be a part,

just apart from the one

who filled my whole." Dal. 11

Untitled [Quick Prose]

2011-09-09T22:07:00.001-07:00

August 31 2011

? Behind Me Leaving U R

By Luis Bobadilla

"Wrap ya head around the fact,

imma be dead gone,

than relax n react to the fact,

you were dead wrong.

Im not doin this because

I wanna run my life away,

but doin it because

I want a lil better life,

a wife, n have a son someday.

Not trynna slight you,

because I still love,

like an addict,

im afflicted,

theres still drug.

If this applies,

than it means

you really care,

dont gotta feel scared,

just look inside ur soul,

cuz im still there.." Dal. 11'

=$ummer’s Time= [Rough]: Lyrics

2011-08-17T01:30:00.000-07:00

$ummer's Time (Rough) by Dal.

=$ummer’s Time=

Ayo, people might say that times are tough,
but sometimes that time, just ain’t enough,
when times get rough
cuz ur in a strange strangle,
sittin on the corner where the fuckin chains dangle.
Kickin’ with ya crones,
gurl at home,
wishin’ for some L-u-v,
sittin’ by the phone, dude
n u can’t see.
Sitttin back fakin’, laughin’, smokin’,
as she scrapin, hopin,
buyin groceries usin’ E-B-T.
What a damn shame, these
so called thugs,
givin’ love to a damn game,
sellin’ those drugs, To be O.G
ashamed of a grand dame.
Tellin’ Love ‘but u’ gonna just B..R..B’
while she’s wastin’ summertime,
n you wasting Summer’s time
never makin’ love like a true D.A..D.
When all Summer wanted
was a son’s shine,
phone call
n ya last name.
Time’s up.
R.I.P.

A Poet's Exodus: A Tucson Hello's Goodbye.

2011-08-11T00:15:00.000-07:00

"+==Announcement==+"

Temporary/Permanent Exodus From Tucson Coming Soon!

I have made up my mind to relocate, albeit [temporarily] for a period of approximately 4 months..on or around Sept 3rd, 2011.

    My real heads know the internal trials and tribulations that have occurred in recent years, not due to any one person or event, but more so a personal decision I feel that I must make for ME. It's hard to be selfish, but I feel that my lifelong magnanimous nature's reward is due to me, and for now, Tucson doesn't feel the same in my soul as it once did. No, this isn't me running away from my problems, people, or debts [holla Rick..lol] but merely an 'It's Time' moment. I love everyone that has touched my life, both big and small, and for those that have withstood the test of time, and been by my side through every shoulder crying, ear bending, laughing, angry, hilarious, crazy & insane moment of my time here, I LOVE YOU and my heart is indebted to you forever!! To those [Ash] who may feel I am pushing them by the way side, or after our struggles, and triumphs throughout our relationship, seem as if I am saying 'fuck it', and giving up on you, that is not and will never be the case because I will always love you and your great, caring Mama and daughter Gabby until I gasp my last breath. As dumb as that sounds for those who've known the tumultuous times we've had, it doesn't matter, because I am not willing to just drop anyone I care about from my life completely.

    Everything I have held inside for so long, feelings, doubts, sadness, happiness, regrets, loss, triumph, mistrust, smiles, frowns, are finally able to be internalized and brought to fruition through such a mind boggling decision to uproot this tree I have grown called Self, and attempt to replant it somewhere else with less water-love than I had before, but hopefully maybe the right situations will cause it to flourish once more and extend it's branches to even more people, and shelter them with the undying love that I have soaked up through the roots of my family, friends, support systems, acquaintances, buddies, pals, strangers and anyone I have ever come into contact with. I want everyone to know how much you mean to me, not just because you've been there, but because at some point in your sordid/busy/odd/happy/imperfect lives, you WANTED to be there with me, to experience the world through my eyes, in turn, living life just that much happier, from having known me. If I am to never return, for whatever reason pulls me, I wish that everyone who has ever given even the slightest bit of a fuck about my life, can understand my reasoning and not chastize me, beg, worry, cry, be furious, feel regret, think im leaving you behind, or want me to stay because of you and your feelings, because I have ruminated those as well, ever since I cried in the incubator, having been protected from the elements, in a cocoon, created to save me, until the day I write my last word, i will always consider you and yours...but not right now, not in this decision...because it is my turn to fly.

    My hip hop heads, music lovers, poets, writers, freestylers, beatboxers, and promoters/creators of the craft, I applaud you for carrying on Tucson's legacy and for being the ones out there, willing to give every last can, breath, word, dollar, strength, energy, beat, or bit of spit, or drop of blood in order to provide the masses with something real, tangible, to bump in thier whips, feel in thier soul, bleed on thier shirts, have in thier hearts, and share with the world, because YOU are my HEART as well. Maybe this is overdramatic, maybe this is another bit of prose I wanted to share, or maybe this is an ode to one life, affected by many, but all I know is, its true.

    Please don't take this letter the wrong way, family and friends, this is not my death, nor destruction, but the possibility at a new life and construction of a new apparatus to unleash on the world, a renewed soul. I am not saying goodbye, but merely a 'check ya later', see ya bruh, hasta, hey imma holla, gimme daps yo cuz you know I ain't never really leavin' y'all, see ya soon, until next time, type farewell, because all good things never end, until we make the decision to push all of the above mentioned GREAT, FANTASTIC, memories, people, experiences, thoughts, dreams, words, love, hate, positive, negative vibes, and HUMANITY away and live in a dark hole, never to be seen again..merely the Gollum of society. Maybe I am a bit Gollum'y, but not because of a ring, because YOU..MY people, MY confidantes, MY lovers, MY fighters..are ALL PRECIOUUUUSSSSS to ME!!

    Know that I love and will miss y'all TUCSON when I'm not around, but as I mentioned, this may not be permanent, maybe one day I will return to the Soul Pueblo a man, and not merely the fragile 1 pound 1 0z. shoe box baby that I once was, but with renewed faith, strength, love, and courage to get through another day, lived, and loved.

    See what happens, only time will tell...pssssh fucking cliche's..argh!..lol

I didn't do personal shoutouts to ALL y'all because you KNOW who you are, and you are already tattooed on my arm, through my words, language, and love, so I can wear your ingrained adoration with pride and look down at my soul, from whatever pinnacle of greatness I achieve, and when the clouds are dark, thank my lucky stars to have people who enriched my life, when I was the poorest.

Love,

Always and Forever,

Dal. aka Luis Bobadilla aka Your Favorite Poet's Favorite Poet.
8/10/11 9:51 pm

Honest Intentions: A Dal. & CheBro Poetry Collaboration.

2011-08-09T05:04:00.000-07:00

ø-Honest Intentions-ø

My Cloud Walker, Moon Taster, Rain Clutcher, Sun of Sons.
Together we could be the epitome, of beauty.
Revealing the world’s leprosy through true love.
Your smile, heart and dreams,
shatter all misconceptions of one’s soul purpose.
Radiate honest intentions.
Nothing shall taint you,
Absorb and lie beside me.
Everything about you stains the core, wonderfully .
I’d call it perfection, but you’d correct me…
because utopias exist in the mistakes one makes,
together.
“I am just me” you say, but you are so much more.
Certainly being head under, over, between, upside down,
right side up, forwards, backwards in love could never mean less, I say.
It’s as though you descended from the Golden Gates themselves,
Walked down the stairway to Heaven,
And directly into my life.
Running on its last legs, my heart gasped for you to come home,
to set your wing tips on the table, kick your feet off
and hang your halo on the hook.
There is no amount of
latitude, longitude, time or
Gratitude that I could produce, to thank you,
For all that you have done,
and the qualities you embody.
Mentally tattooed on my shoulder, sits my hero, a living conscience,
reminder, counselor, and Best Freind ForLover.
After meeting you, I look down in the dirt, to appreciate the saviors,
who pulled these hopes up.
Love flew searching the world, not just for you,
but

For me.

©Dal./CheBro 2011. [5/14/11]

This has been a Luis Bobadilla & Chelsea Brogi Collaboration.

Face The Book: Best Of Facebook Poems. [Dal.11']

2011-08-09T03:09:00.001-07:00

Saturday, July 30, 2011 at 1:34am

The BreaThing About Love

Breathing is akin to loving,
In with the good and out with the bad.
Always taken in,
and forcefully pushed back out.
Too bad most lovers have it wrong
and choke,
on their misgivings.
Blocked by the bonds of love,
All is trapped.
Fill her lungs to the brim with all you can,
be her CPR when she falls,
and just breathe.
In, and out.
One. Deep. Breath.
Know when the waters too deep,
and don’t let it go down the wrong pipe,
so it hurts.
Stop before you take any plunge,
Do not allow yourself to drown
And fall into the depths.
When you awaken in your new life,
after having been dead alone,
for so long,cherish each love you take,
and holdevery whisper tight in your chest.
Take hold of every love.
Don’t be afraid to hog and inhale,
just remember that he might be called,
your EXhale for a reason someday,
but hopefully not anytime soon.
Allow him to love you,
to take your heart from your chest.
Give him that trust.
Let him give you those
Irreplaceable butterflies.
While we exist, loving,
and grow gray in places where,
the light may not have shone so brilliantly,
remember that it’s ok to breathe
slower.
Running through life,
allows us to forget love,
and so it quickens,
making hasty respiratory,
decisions,
so

pace

yourself.

©2011 Dal. & CheBro.

This has been a Luis Bobadilla & Chelsea Brogi Collaboration.

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Wednesday, July 27, 2011 at 2:06am

Love [A short poem]

"Waiting on my love to save me, from what I've become,

but suddenly realize that its where I've come from.
Fragile, frail, almost fallen through the fingers of some,
I was captured, enraptured by the hope where was none.
It carried me through the incubator, stayed within n' saved for later,
until the days came where love triumphed over haters.
Suddenly sodden by the tears of the downtrodden, waders,
I learned to float on fears, enough to learn from thier makers.
Still birthed to love, no matter if it hurts, or maims me,
because it's been trained and ingrained, see?.
I'm stuck on auto pilot, until I let go, so another holds the reins,
its ok Love, looks like you've been changed, and you can blame ME." Dal. 11'

======

Thursday, July 14, 2011 at 2:30am

(Prose) Homeless Sweet Home?

"Excuse me ma'am can you spare a crime,

to steal away this homeless hole I live in to pass the rhyme?
Time to lose my job, selling poems for a dime,
cuz noone wants to see a found man go sane
when he lost his mind.
By happenstance have you seen me skip?
..phrases, rocks, and change the locks
on the house that never sits.
Im amazing,
watch me blame my socks,
for never going stiff,
as I trade my thoughts for rainy drops
and keep them in my fist.
Shifting boxes around this two story crate,
means forever loving each and every date,
ahhh yes June and march,
they were quite timid
and feisty old july was hot and livid
but never got a taste.
Deary me,
enough talk about me and my troubled sense,
can you spare two cents,
because my mind has doubled rent.. :)" Dal. 11'

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Face The Book: Best Of Facebook Poems. [Dal.11'] 2

2011-08-09T02:45:00.000-07:00

[Untitled] Prose.

Friday, July 8, 2011 at 6:04am

"Even though it seems

I'm goin' through some sort of crisis mid life,
I birthed the right to exit stage left,
in death or after every fight.
Difference is when I blurt hurt,
I don't really mean it,
you used to curse the worst
and inbetween each Fuck
was an I love you, no semen.
You seen it, and believed it,
my worth once,
touching each moment
like it was our first one,
I just want the time back,
n build slats on the bridge
n not burn one." Dal. 11'

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[Untitled] Me > Them

Monday, June 27, 2011 at 5:27am

"Tongue game like whoa,

good for talking and other stuff,
for some they wanna come,
and for others I'm not good enough.
It's okay though,
My heart's bigger than every love song,
a dude that scoops you up after the thug's gone.
Treat a woman like a million bucks,
although my cash low,
waitin' for the asshole in the castle to leave,
so I can throw the damsel a lasso.
Write you a poem bout pancakes, love,
and how you make me swoon,
while your delishous body glows at nightime
and captures every moon.
Poet branded,
skin hot to the touch,
a nice guys done landed,
got these other dudes fucked up.
Try to sing your favorite song, but
get the chords all wrong.
Lips massage your frame,
ain't gotta say my name,
just melt from the way
we sway n play,
no games,
lights on.
I know your spot
where neck meets clavicle,
is simply magical,
when caressed,
makes ur sex get wet,
n forget the ex who damaged you.
Imma break things down,
express myself concisely,
u'll never get your head bored,
just gently hit the headboard,
by my essence on the nightly." Dal. 11'

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"Awakenedsleep" A poem

Tuesday, May 24, 2011 at 12:43pm

"Awake.
I try to look through your eyelids and imagine you
can see me
for what I really am.
Your face lights up sometimes, than grimaces,
possibly considering a future without me
than with me.
The chest which held me, heaves to and fro,
on the brink of living and dying,
I'm scared to touch you.
Breaths which long ago were hauled away by,
love,
now exist only to move further on.
Skin which once melted into a symbiont,
glowing fresh with sex,
suddenly resembles leather
in it's purest, singular, cold form.
Night Hair revered by scholars,
explored by conquistadors,
and fondled by lovers,
what a long ago treasure,
rests on the crook,
of my souls collarbone.
Hands that broke things, dishes, trysts,
communication, awkward silence,
a heart or two,
lie calmly without fists,
healing.
Feet, what messengers, harlots,
that carried this broken saint, in deceit,
to other lands, and stranded her,
sit idle.
A once welcoming, fleshy, lily incarnate, sopping,
to the brim in delicious ambrosia,
weeps somberly,
nature's dying daughter,
with matted fluff, dries her lips,
adieu.
Ears, sonar lighthouses,
once searching for sorrow,
found me on my wretched pity raft,
clutching to a dream,
and drowned me in enlightenment.
Your kissing cloth, a tongue swathed in spite silk,
loosened tension,
and clambored up my teeth's stairway each evening,
only to fall clumsily,
into the daylight of another mouth.
Your womb, body, mind,
spirit, earthen tone, and sultry
beckoning,
truthfully lies,
slumbering,
peering into my soul,
as I watch you.
Sleep.” Dal. 11'

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Face The Book: Best Of Facebook Poems. [Dal.11'] 3

2011-08-09T02:37:00.000-07:00

[Untitled] A Poem

Thursday, May 19, 2011 at 3:34pm

"I've been chasing you through the nights,
running along your moon beams,
reaching out, hoping to catch air,
awash in your scent, waiting.
I howl aloud my angst, drowning
in the onyx of your midnight hair.
Clambering to catch every star on your skin,
and swallow them alive, enlightened anew.
Alabaster skin, milk, honey, pouring out,
of those denim reflections on water's lithe body.
My muse, light goddess, cloak and dagger,
sky baby, I long to lasso you whole and pull,
you home.
The Pecos Bill of your love, come to me,
moon, night, lover, friend, confidant,
so I can touch you once and,
die an accomplished dreamer." Dal. 11'

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Ideology I-Dal-ology [A Poem]

Tuesday, May 17, 2011 at 1:27pm

"I'm scintillating and simple yet common and complex,
broken and mended with calm sets n bomb texts.
A bum rich with imagery, sees a loser and poor winner,
Looks fat as fuck eating love for lunch but gets thinner.
Word mincer with prose eloquent, a ghost gone evident,
a Hell walking shit talking introverted nerd whose heaven sent.
I listen to hand motions n see speech narrated through air quotes,
Rougher than hand lotion n smoother than Kenya with their hopes.
Just a son less fatherless sun truthful sarcastic gun toter with none,
A brown brawling pacifist when purposes deemed worthless free dumb.
Escaping intelligence by staying in one place, with thoughts running,
I break shackles by making a sand castle, n say bye with waves coming.
Dal. greets the unwelcome and writes to illiterates fostering kids legitimate,
taking them home with their boxes and packing lost hopes discriminate.
A distant friend, that lost contacts through networking who feels closer,
that caught the Catcher in the Rye n tossed him back, A Holden gone older.
A thought giver-taker caged caught free ape, an Ismael Ishmael's student,
giving indirect lessons on learning to think more like the teacher, less human.
Breaking laws of talent to create loss in balance, leaves more to the undesired,
making my cause effect others through creative flaws means less water, more fire.
This man is a hypocrite, soothsayer, savior, naysayer, truth maker, poet, combined,
dick with wit, time-taker, rhyme slayer, hater, lover, booth raper, know it all of the mind.
" Dal. 11'

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[A poem] Heart On..

Monday, May 16, 2011 at 3:49pm

"I wanna stretch you out with my love gurl,
just completely fill your insides
until you feel like bursting,
trembling and shaking in my arms.
Look into my eyes, than look down,
you can prolly feel it pressed against you.
Would adore moistening your lips with scintillating whispers,
a kiss of courtesy,
placed right where you want and need it the most.
Don't be afraid, I know it hurts sometimes.
Trust me, I'm a pro at this,
Love thing.
Spread yourself before me,
wrap me as the newborn brought home
or a presence present.
Enraptured within your natural folds,
I'd hold on for dear life.
Bet u'll never feel this good again huh,
venerated,
healed,
pleasured.
Yeah, it's huge, I know,
but believe me it'll fit in the hole,
where other men have gone,
but never stayed too long.
Open wide and take this big,
throbbing,
juicy,
loving
heart,
it's all yours
for the taking." Dal. 11'

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Face The Book: Best Of Facebook Poems. [Dal.11'] 4

2011-08-09T02:07:00.000-07:00

[Untitled Prose] Ayo..

Monday, May 16, 2011 at 12:31am

"Walk through me, I'm a concept, a word without context,
an anomaly of thought commonly leaving you cons vexed,
my onset got bar backs bent like you live in a con cave,
kneeling slinging a blade in the hills on a long day.
Drunk off the words, absurd n heard cursing the dirt curbs n hurt stirs,
keep working on comprehending what verbs u dig from the earth nerd.
I'm a whole hole filled with an old soul, left to grow mold n hope the diggers of lore gold will pull me from the rock
as a present to your hoe." Dal. 11'

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[Untitled] A Poem of..

Saturday, May 14, 2011 at 10:26pm

"How can a few words tempt even the most innocent
to reveal themselves,
nubile naked skeletons simply sunbathing in freedom.
Unafraid of what harm the exposure may do to their husks,
tossed into the nearest rubbish bin,
already forgotten.
I deftly finger their inadequacies,
penetrating core emotions,
releasing lost levees of their burdens,
allowing myself time to flood.
Dancing on my memory banks,
frolic the walking heart mermaids.
The nymphs ribs bleached truth white,
saturated with appreciation,
are my xylophone
on which to play life's tune.
Always the savior, now becoming the saved,
crushing my charges prior helplessness,
to my chest, thankful to be free.
Words floating to music, washing away
the burdens of prejudice and society.
Women once girls and back again, cry with me.
Plucking my own Adam's bane,
I tuck it gingerly into the nearest Eve's sobbing side,
a gift returned." Dal. 11'

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LoveInCrazy

Friday, March 25, 2011 at 6:20am

"Hat brim tipped, greeting dumb bitches as polite courtesy,
My wigs been flipped, from meeting bitches who like hurtin me.
Not all of em are like that, there's those I know who love true,
they just don't like the fact, a real man cries when he says I love you.
Calling me soft, or stupid, making me feel that I'm off and worthless,
All bets are off, when this cupid gets lost in his loving purpose.
At all costs, the arrow flies but mine has a bit of A.D.D inside it,
Fuckin' nuts, distracted by ur heart, if you got love than better hide it.
Wait for the right one?, yeah sure, let me put a gun to my chest, BLAM,
Deaded by this bullet I got from my Valentine, Signed Thnx 4 Da Love Fam.
Hoodie pulled tighter than my heart tied right to a tight kite string, flying,
I walk by every couple, a couple of times, spouting a couple of lines, trying.
To talk and walk, like the next guy, so she notices me, patiently waiting,
til she gets bored of his lying, dying to get out of this same ol game, fading.
I'm the stranger danger, with wings folded, wrapped in a rappers rapture,
silently invading your soul, offering candy hearts, until you are captured.
Can I feed you poetry? That bulge? oh, it's my soul, thanks for noticing,
I brought you home with me, want to be my girl forever, without knowing me?
Seems like if girls like me, than thats as far as it gets, so I stole you away,
Don't be scared, just wanted to say hello, I Love You, and have a very nice day.
The names Luis by the way, so than I cut the ropes, tipped my hat n walked away."
Dal. 11'

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Face The Book: Best Of Facebook Poems. [Dal.11'] 5

2011-08-09T01:05:00.001-07:00

Beware The Love Beast!!

Tuesday, March 22, 2011 at 1:20am

"The Love Beast roams, waiting to devour sweet hand-holders, tender bench kissers, midnight serenaders, flowers-for-nothing buyers, passionate love note writers, heart melting huggers, and all over each other in public lovers, so if you Love ANYONE...BEWARE. HE exists, breaths, walks, and talks strictly to taste that scintillating, juicy, young thing called LOVE. Hide your girlfriends, lovers, fuck buddies, cuz they LOVIN' err'body out here!" Dal. 11'

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Face The Book: Best Of Facebook Poems. [Dal.11'] 6

2011-08-09T00:54:00.001-07:00

"I L..ike You" A Poem.

Friday, March 11, 2011 at 2:01am

"Fluttering fingers, can't find the words,
muttering lingers, stuttering because of her.
Breathing heavy, these quaking heaves,
Feeling ready, yet unable with breaking knees.
I think I love, wait maybe like, prolly both,
Sinking from, the weight inside, waitings tough.
Might be the last time I say these words first,
If you don't feel the same, I won't be hurt.
Simply crushed, lying inside myself, broken,
ethereal as dust, a soul's vigil, never spoken.
Than you smiled, awakening this human pen,
Writing, writhing, wanting to see you again.
Hope blooms in my throat, should I say it?
Babes, I Love Y...eah..don't wanna waste it." Dal. 11'

======

El Oh Vee Ee :Valentine's Day

Monday, February 14, 2011 at 11:20am

"I'm the type to give it up quickly on the first night,
and scream it out loud in the middle of our first fight.
Write it on walls, jot it down in forms and many types,
spell it out with my hands, and whisper it when the moments right.
Spill it on my shirt and leave it there to set, yeah I just might,
Throw it in your face, or fly it high on the next kite.
We have time to grab it, break it, build it, so hold on tight,
now all I need is YOU, to make this LOVE word take flight." Dal. 11'

======

==I'm Sorry Love==

Saturday, February 12, 2011 at 10:51am

"Wow..WTF got into me last night!? I was acting fuckin' stupid and just mad at the world, and prolly worried and hurt people's feelings n for that I apologize. Just feel alone and I don't like it. I went out and let off some steam, cleared my head [well filled it up with Dos Equis..lol] and now can better appreciate the love my people give me, no matter what. I LOVE all year round and don''t need a day to tell me how loved I am. Those that know me, REALLY know me..are the ones that matter. I'm a beast that survives on love, and sometimes I feel like I gave all of mine away and need more to survive. Maybe thats selfish, but just think that reciprocation should be the reward for my benevolence. Maybe I LOVE too much, and people can't take it all in, but thats just the man I am and wouldn't trade it for the world [fuckin' cliche's..lol]. Let my words wash over you and cleanse your skin of what ails you, reveal the YOU underneath, naked and alive, because THAT is how your soul was borne to the air, when you uttered your birth cry, it was not one of pain but of an unmistakable triumph, when two became one, and than one again. At that precise moment, a person is accepted, and recognized, not for their sadness, but for the will to live loved." Dal. 11'

One day My Love will find Dal...deep inside myself and rescue Luis.

======

==Dilla Day at Vaudeville==

Saturday, February 12, 2011 at 2:17am

LOL...Dos Equis is my SHIT!.. Enjoyed some fuckin' head bangin' Dilla beats @ Vaudeville, got drunk, ate some food [waited for like 45 minutes] at thee Grill than Discount Cab'ed it home.. Ha best fuckin' solo night in awhile.. Just got home n feel good.. If you are my Valentine than I Love You, if you were not hand picked than I feel sorry. G'Night FB. Jay Dilla LIVES through the music! Good seein' Graps, Lee Hybrid, Emerson, Sugar Rochs [Sugarman n Roch], Shaun Harris, Ciphurphace!..and numerous other peeps..Much love.

======

To Those Who Love.

Sunday, January 2, 2011 at 1:04am

"Love is more important than something golden to hold,
I should know cause of the way its coated my soul.
Filled to the brim, not with the finest of gems or baubles,
instead with kin and many friends who'd follow till the morrow.
A lustrous aura breaking through the clouds of doubt,
humble shrouds are tossed aside when this Son comes out.
Dawning Love so tried and true, a natural gift given,
Be proud of such ubiquitous wealth, a Life Loved Living." Dal. 11'

I've realized that those who really and truly LOVE and give of themselves regardless of consequence, attain a higher level of awareness and great reciprocity of love given through those they care about.

To You.

Love,

Me.

"Breaks Day" ©Dal. 2008 An oldie but a goodie.

======

El Amoroso: A Love Poem

2011-03-09T13:33:00.000-08:00

Amor,

Love.

Remember me as the child,

chasing after the pretty pigtailed girl,

tripping,

over my words

falling,

at your feet,

cursing,

my soul,

yet

never catching.

Always left with giggles and her scent wafting,

behind,

I sit,

crying,

waiting for you,

dying,

to know your name,

My Love.

Return to me,

Your Amor.

DJ Quik & Kurupt: Hey Playa! [Moroccan Blues]

2011-01-26T14:16:00.000-08:00

This is what the FUCK the Hip Hop games been DYING for!! This right here is how Legends show and prove relevancy! Ill as fuck.

2011-01-26T13:54:00.000-08:00

"Survivin's my birthright, born into the stress I take
Still alive yet broken but adore every breath I make."

Goodbye My Almost Lover: A Fine Frenzy

2011-01-24T21:24:00.000-08:00

A Fine Frenzy is the music of 22 year-old Alison Sudol:

Goodbye My Almost Lover Lyrics

Your fingertips against my skin

The palm trees swaying in the wind

Images

You sang me spanish lullabies

The sweetest sadness in your eyes

Clever trick

I never want to see you unhappy

I thought you’d want the same for me

Goodbye, my almost lover

Goodbye, my hopeless dream

I’m trying not to think about you

Can’t you just let me be?

So long, my luckless romance

My back is turned on you

I should’ve known you’d bring me heartache

Almost lovers always do

We walked along a crowded street

You took my hand and danced with me

Images

And when you left you kissed my lips

You told me you’d never ever forget these images, no

I never want to see you unhappy

I thought you’d want the same for me

Goodbye, my almost lover

Goodbye, my hopeless dream

I’m trying not to think about you

Can’t you just let me be?

So long, my luckless romance

My back is turned on you

I should’ve known you’d bring me heartache

Almost lovers always do

I cannot go to the ocean

I cannot drive the streets at night

I cannot wake up in the morning

Without you on my mind

So you’re gone and I’m haunted

And I bet you are just fine

Did I make it that easy for you

To walk right in and out of my life?

Goodbye, my almost lover

Goodbye, my hopeless dream

I’m trying not to think about you

Can’t you just let me be?

So long, my luckless romance

My back is turned on you

I should’ve known you’d bring me heartache

Almost lovers always do

One of my dearest friends Savannah Kay posted some lyrics to this song, and it touched me so much that I sought out the song and accompanying video. Her voice is so heartfelt and almost haunting, which compliments a song whose lyrics are so torn and lost, alas like many souls out in the world.

Flying Lotus: FuckYaMindUpMusic

2011-01-04T15:05:00.000-08:00

Wow...how in the musical fucking hell did I NOT peep this cat earlier!! His music really messes with a person's perception of reality, eclipsing transcendence while genre melding/bending in the same song, leaving one to sit and zone out everything; the world, problems, people, bullshit, the universe ect., and focus in on that one minutia of time where the beat yells down the ear canal, hits the eardrum, rattles the bones of the inner ear, fucks wit the tempanic membrane, kicks rocks through the cornea,..lays' scillia down like dead rappers, bebops back through the muhfucka, n moonwalks up the 8th Nerve, to skullfuck your synapses until you fall into a rhythm induced COMA...THAT's what FlyLo is all about!

Untitled: Masterpeace

2010-12-25T13:25:00.000-08:00

"Give Love every second,

even to those that don't reciprocate,

because one day u'll utilize each one to build a sanctuary.

Once complete,

whilst standing aloft on it's highest peak,

one will look down,

and feel proud that through time illuminary,

a hand did not waver,

for every stone savored, replacing hate.

Though emotions are varied,

Love withstands the task of time,

our inner soul sanctum is revealed unabashed to the world,

for jealous minions blinded by the shine

of a heart stacked too high." Dal. 10'

The Genius Child: Ode to Basquiat

2010-12-14T02:32:00.000-08:00

Riding With Death (1988), Jean-Michel Basquiat

The Genius Child

This is a song for the genius child.

Sing it softly, for the song is wild.

Sing it softly as ever you can -

Lest the song get out of hand.

Nobody loves a genius child.

Can you love an eagle,

Tame or wild?

Can you love an eagle,

Wild or tame?

Can you love a monster

Of frightening name?

Nobody loves a genius child.

Kill him – and let his soul run wild.

=Langston Hughes=

Oh No: Bang Ya Head III: Mixtape Mixed By DJ Rhettmatic

2010-11-07T23:37:00.000-08:00

Bang Ya Head 3 [Mixtape] Mixed By DJ Rhettmatic

Bang Ya Head III by MED

1. "Intro" - prod by JRocc
2. "Advice – LMD prod by Madlib
3. "Misunderstood " -MED prod by Madlib
4. "Candlelight" - MED feat/prod by Georgia Anne Muldrow
5. "50,000 Watts" - MED prod by Soul Professa
6. "Salute – J Rocc/MED feat WildChild & Baby Boogalu
7. "Fall Back – Fred feat MED/Poke prod by FRED
8. "R.E.M" - Epsilon Project Feat MED prod by Oddisee
9. " West Iz Back" - MED prod by Khalil
10. "Saga Cont." - Babu feat MED prod by Babu
11. "O.U.T" - Matt feat MED prod by MED
12. "Listen" - Descry feat MED prod by Descry
13. "Outro Prod by JRocc feat Daru Jones on the drums

Fucking Hip Hop GOLD right here.. feel good fuckin' music!!

Broke Beat: A Love Song.

2010-10-13T02:15:00.000-07:00

There you sat,

a beat once broken.

Fragmented by unsure hands,

that never knew the right buttons to press or,

how to optimize the balance of your

tender rhythm.

When I handpicked you,

that day at the store,

I knew.

You were the soundtrack to my troubled life.

Every time my headphones blared,

your beautiful leprosy touched,

me,

and I didn't fall apart.

Rather my soul skipped along,

till the needle landed into the right

grooves,

and let our Love play on.

//Baby call me crazy,

but I think you feel it too,

maybe I just gotta get next

to you//

Jordin Sparks fly,
after each syllable bounces off the walls,

and traps me in your embrace.
I feel your touch within,
carving out a niche,
just for us.
Together,
we meld hiphop and R n B,
Funk & Soul,
sharing bandwith like,
Newlywed rings.
You are just what I'm looking for in,
a woman,
a song,
a lover,
of music.
A whole heart <3
beat.

√Dueces√ Chris Brown & Tyga Feat. Kevin McCall

2010-10-02T00:20:00.000-07:00

[Verse: Chris Brown]
All that bullshit's for the birds
You ain't nothin but a vulture
Always hopin for the worst
Waiting for me to fuck up up
You'll regret the day when I find another girl, yeah
That knows just what I need, she knows just what I mean
When I tell her keep it drama free

Ohohohohohohohoh... [x2]
I told you that I'm leaving (deuces)

I know you mad but so what?
I wish you best of luck
And now I'm bout to throw them deuces up

[Chorus:]
I'm on some new shit
I'm chuckin my deuces up to her
I'm moving on to something better, better, better
No more tryin to make it work
You made me wanna say bye bye, say bye bye, say bye bye to her [x2]

[Verse: Tyga]
Uh, Use to be valentines
Together all the time
Thought it was true love, but you know women lie
It's like I sent my love with a text two times
Call cause I care but I ain't get no reply
Tryna see eye to eye but it's like we both blind
Fuck it let's hit the club, I rarely sip but pour me some
Cause when it's all said and done,
I ain't gon be the one that she can always run to
I hate liars, fuck love I'm tired of trying
My heart big but it beat quiet
I don't never feel like we vibin
Cause every time we alone it's a awkward silence
So leave your keys on the kitchen counter
And gimme back that ruby ring with the big diamond
Shit is over, whatchu trippin for?
I don't wanna have to let you go
But baby I think it's better if I let you know

[Chorus:]
I'm on some new shit
I'm chuckin my deuces up to her
I'm moving on to something better, better, better
No more tryin to make it work
You made me wanna say bye bye, say bye bye, say bye bye to her [x2]

[Verse: K Mc]
Look, my shawty always on some bullshit like Chicago
So I flip that middle finger and the index finger follow
Deuces, we ain't got no future in tomorrow
I'm a dick, so it shouldn't be that hard to swallow
The other chick I'm with never complain
She make wanna leave the one I'm with Usher Raymond
Probably didn't register, don't trip, later on it will
Shorty full of drama like gangsta grizzles
I finally noticed it, it finally hit me
Like Tina did Ike in the limo, it finally hit me
I got a new chick, and she ain't you
She Paula Patton thick, She give me deja-vu
And all dat attitude i don't care about it
But all dat shit i do for her you gonna hear about it
Breezy rep two up two down
But i'm jus putting two up chucking up the deuce now.

Wow..this song sure came at an awkward time in my life....What else can I say gurl but DEUCES!.

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You

2010-09-28T15:19:00.000-07:00

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You by Pablo Neruda

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

= Babes, I don't know why you feel the way you do right now, but I hope that in the future, you will realize the deep love that must still be there, somewhere, in that conflicted soul of yours. Time will tell and if I am not the one you need in your life right now, than so be it, but know that you will never be forgotten. I Love you more than you will ever know, and I hope you find true happiness within yourself one day.

=Atmosphere: The Woman With The Tatooed Hands=

2010-09-15T23:53:00.000-07:00

+=Atmosphere: The Woman With The Tatooed Hands=+

I used to know this woman who had the most beautiful

tattoos on the top sides of both of her hands

she was forty three years old and as far as I know

had never yet been with a man

its not that she wasn't attractive she was beatiful

but its the way that she interacted

she was aggressively passive to the point where she

would of intimidated any mitt that ever tried to catch her

on the right hand she had a tattoo of a nude girl

she claimed it is what God resembled

but on the left she had a mirrored image of the same female

and this one she explained looked like the devil

I remember once watching her touch her own breasts

how the tattoos smiled as they stared down her stomach

as if anticipating would they be allowed to caress

the sweet flower that they both seemed to hunger (sweet flower)

now maybe I was high but it felt so right

heaven and hell both take to this womans womb

it didn't make sense how she could commence

touching herself with me wide awake in the same room

now if I've learned anything in my years (my years)

I learned I no longer believe in surprise (in surprise)

but what happened next damn near stole my tears

the tattoos came alive right in front of my eyes

they both slowly stood up and climbed off her hands

and showed me why she never took some time with a man

they climbed deep inside of this woman's garden

she closed her eyes and she gently bit her bottom lip

I stepped I left and I don't regret leaving

and I'll never forget all the things I saw that evening

a glimpse of religion a piece of coming closer

to understanding more about what intrigues me most

I didn't get turned on I just got turned

I wasn't as aroused as I was concerned

for each one of em I've hurt

and every time I've been burned

I've got a lot to teach but even more to learn

so now I keep my eyes open hoping to take in all I can

about Woman taking in all she can

and for as long as I breath i'll save a seat in my memory

for that woman with the tattooed hands

(chorus: repeat 5x till song fades)

There's good and evil in each individual fire

identifies needs and feeds our desires

as long as we keep our spirit inspired

she can bite her bottom lip all she wants

Wow...I don't know why, but after listening to this song, I just feel DIFFERENT. Just downloaded err..obtained legally, the Lucy Ford EP's and it just struck me hard! I been going through some things recently and it just made me realize and appreciate my woman for the gifts she possesses, and never to take her for granted. The lyrics are interlaced with such honesty, and the captivating mental images that are evoked from listening to this song are simply beautiful in thier simplicity. Slug tends to speak about topics and situations that everyone can relate to, or at the very least pulls you in to listen a bit intensely to what he is saying.

Been A Long Time..But Fresh Perspective= Refreshing Music

2010-07-22T02:29:00.000-07:00

It has been way too long for me not to have blessed my blog with anything of relevance. After spending the summer, a harsh one [both in heat AND problems], I am now standing in the face of both future academic and relationship careers with optimism. The relationship I have fostered with my girl has been one of ups and downs, but we still seem to always push through and come out of it in one piece, and I count my blessings for that. The thoughts occupying so much of my time have been ones of self-doubt, pessimism in relation to my own accomplishments, and just true to life insecurity. Now, I realize that obviously I have more to offer than meets the eye, and regardless of my physical appearance and internal struggle, endearing qualities shine through. This is merely reinforced by the unconditional love that my woman has for me, and her honest, oftentimes blunt, no BS attitude, which gives me a kick in the pants when I need it, and allows me to gain personal strength through anything. It will be a whole year [Sept 7th] that we will be together fairly soon, and I sincerely hope that we continue to learn to love each other more and more as time goes on. Work is work, and nothing can change that.. but I am considering carrying the brunt of 2 jobs and school on my back within the coming months if things take a turn for the worst. My family has been nothing but supportive [as much as they will admit] and I still feel thier presence, although they seem to be scattered throughout the region. I need to ge back to writing more and worrying less, and hopefully the latter will lessen as my activity level increases just a tad in August when PCC starts again. Music always tends to bring me solace during tumultuous times, and the aforementioned Zion I videos encapsulate all of the feelings I currently have streaming through my proverbial veins. Whether anyone reads this or not, I will move forward. I Love You Ash.

Relation Ship [A Poem By Me]

2010-02-21T01:45:00.000-08:00

+=Relation Ship=+

Breaking lips,
merely to shudder,
breath escapes,
but merely a mutter...
facing one's mirror,
the eyes deceive the quips,
building up courage to go down with the ship.
Why must you tear?
Can you see my flag waving,
fingers dig into trestles,
is this vessel worth saving?
The mast creaks but don't let your will break,
the horizon is mist,
and you've missed your mistakes..
Overlooking the trail of petals down to the galley,
wafting in sorrow,
they careen down the alley..
clinking against the hull,
are bottles of hope,
cast out your lines,
for a savior there's rope.

Dal.©2009-10

I Walked By [Poem By Me]

2010-02-21T01:31:00.000-08:00

=I Walked By=

I walked by your house today.

Wishing it were the same as any other day.
Before you knew me inside and out.
Before we had the chance to smile first and laugh last.
Before we found out that people make mistakes.
Before I made you cry than laughed because it hurt.

I walked by your house today.
Denying I ever knew your name or what your bed felt like.
Before the time we went to the park and kissed.
Before we spent so much time yet knew so little.
Before you allowed me to pull your pigtails in lust.
Before I knew how real love was supposed to feel.

I walked by your house today.

Needing your emerald beacons to guide me through the torrential see.
During countless hours of scrawling your name on every surface.
During the days when my tendrils traced your figure on any beautiful thing I saw and felt.
During so many years as my body grew weary from walking forward in thought.

I walked by your house today.

Thinking about how your life has been or where it's going.
During my fights with death, you gave me life and held me up.
During the hardest times you were my rock when my knees crushed under the bulk of myself.

I walked by your house today.

Hoping to catch a glimpse of your auburn hair turned black.
After remembering the sensitive spot on your neck.
After forgetting our anniversary so many times over.
After tenderly holding hands to make the world jealous.
After eagerly opening our very first valentines day cards
than smiing because we thought alike.

I walked by your house today.

Wanting to run down the driveway and knock on the door ever so gently.
After allowing myself to be loved so deeply that the scar never bled.
After waiting so long for I love you's that never came.
After caressing your breasts and dipping tongue into lips.
After lamenting for you as if you had died alone.

I stopped by your house today

Realizing.

You moved away

not from your house

but from me.

©Dal. 2007-10

Zion I and The Grough: [Video] "10 fingers 10 toes 10 pounds 10 oz"

2009-11-02T20:34:00.000-08:00

Wow.. my life has definitely been altered by the new love in my life, Ashley and causes me to ruminate on the beauty of children and the birth of life. we hope to have our own children in the future, and this song just exudes a father's true sentiments on the issue. The rhythm and underlying meaning behind the oh so tender lyrics simply touches my heart and releases a butterfly of hope for the future, from the hardened jade cocoon I had around Love...Thank you Ash' for letting me love again.

Artist Show Case: Blu and Exile

2009-09-28T22:20:00.000-07:00

Hailing from the West Coast; emcee Blu was raised on the likes of Public Enemy and N.W.A. thanks to his father; later gravitating towards Common, Mos Def & Talib Kweli (Black Star) and Black Thought (The Roots). It's clear that the above artists were in the 22-year-old emcee's mental tape deck while he was perfecting his craft. Blu is an extremely talented lyricist; clever rhymes, technically sound, intensely personal and witty. Add this to the fact that the entire album is produced by Exile (one half of the slept on duo Emanon) and you are in for a rousing eargasm reminiscent of that classic 90's sound that so many people bitch and moan about missing and saying that it's nonexistent. It's there (I promise) you just have to dig a bit deeper than you used to.

The album begins with The Dells-sampled "My World Is..." which acts as Blu's chance to introduce himself properly with lines like "I don't pack stadiums yet, I still rock em/ and they still spell my name fucked up on they flyers, it's B-L-U/ and if you see the E, drop em/ it's like they droppin E from the beats E is droppin/ got you peeps eavesdroppin/ and the world keeps watchin him." Next up is the lead single, "The Narrow Path." After giving this song a few listens I'm convinced that Blu is far beyond an artist that only has flow and hot lines. Containing one of the many sung hooks (and doing it well, unlike others you may know of ... *cough* no need to name *cough*) he speaks on the struggle an artist goes through within, ("I'm trying to tell my folks that flowin ain't easy/ I'm driving down this yellow brick road until it frees me/ I need a pen, I need a pad, I need a place to go/ to get this shit lifted up off of my soul").

"I got a call from my girl last week/ she telling me about that time of the month, and hot it may not come/ dropped the phone right before she said we have a son/ and I started asking God 'how come?'/ I got dreams I ain't reached yet/ aim's I ain't meet yet/ when it comes to being a man, shit, I'm barely getting my feet wet/ trying to hit reset, knee deep in debt/ trying to figure out how to feed a mouth that ain't got teeth yet." Even if you haven't been in that situation you can't help but feel emotionally attached to what he is saying. That is a talent that very few artists possess. Blu's ability to be as personal as he is with his music leaves the listener with no choice but to relate. From his struggles of holding down his family by working two jobs, lady troubles ("First Things First," "Greater Love"); and unexpected parenthood ("Good Life," - see above) ... the confessions pour from this man's soul and are laid beautifully over Exile's canvas.

I can't stress enough that Blu is talented ... VERY talented. This actually becomes the ONLY thing wrong with Below the Heavens. The fact that this album is so intimate and set as an autobiographical look into a man's struggle, there really isn't a need for guest emcees. Case in point - the Ta'raach (together as C.R.A.C. Knucks)-featured "Juicen' Dranks." If I had heard this song at any other time or on another album it wouldn't be that bad. But for this album, it sticks out like a nun wearing a mini skirt and red lip stick. And while Exile does a really nice job on the production front, it isn't always that good. Blu definitely steals the show every time.

While "keeping it real" seems to be the "cool" thing to do with most rappers, Blu does this simply because he wants his story to be heard. Comfortable enough in his own skin, he lays it ALL out there ... not just concentrating on the extremes. I still feel I haven't done this album justice but it's impossible to include all the gems that are pouring from my speakers without writing a ten-page review. So just know: after hearing Below the Heavens I'd be damned if anyone still spells his name wrong on the flyers...

It's B-L-U.

Source: http://www.hiphopdx.com/index/reviews/id.847

I am so lame. Why didn't I keep my ear to the raw hip hop instead of glancing at my Suicide Girls membership or recycling the same old CDs from years ago?..damn I'm ashamed. Now 3 years or so later after its critically acclaimed release, the album "Below The Heavens" is barely coming through into my Oh Shit radar. This album is smooth, contemporary, head-nod feel good hip hop. I have been bumping it nonstop for like almost a month. My good friend LEE told me about it and since than, I have never let it stop hitting my audological receptors. One song in particular that tickles my fancy, not only for its content, but because it also features Stones Throw songbird Aloe Blacc, is "Show Me The Good Life". This track is simply mesmerizing and illustrates the importance of taking care of your fatherly duties, and portrays the reality that a lot of people tend to ignore. Wonderful!. I am going to buy anything and everything by these artists from here on out. Better late than never eh?

In Lubb!!

2009-09-16T11:29:00.000-07:00

I'm In Love...
Just Sayin'.

Who Dee Who [Poem by Me]

2009-08-23T10:01:00.000-07:00

=Who Dee Who=

Hop..Skip..Jump,
Children play hopscotch on a dead man's outline,
yet still smile when they land back at 1.
Walking along the schoolyard fence,
they pick up shell casings,
and trade them for barrettes or
a peck on the cheek by the "popular" girl.
Wino's are your favorite uncles,
and the local night-walkers babysit on weekends
for another hit.
There are candy stores, merchants, and a burger stand or two,
at night they transform into white baggies,
open trench coats, and glory holes,
just to keep it lively.
Dark alleys are the meeting places
for lawyers and thieves alike,
they each take from the same pockets,
yet stand underneath different lights.
Bullet holes freckle the stucco patios
and tell a fable of Kings overthrown,
while knife-cut frowns and 9mm tears shine like medals
on the skin of the "Old-Timers."
Gap-toothed wives sip Flavor-Aid sitting on $6.oo lawn chairs,
spinnin' yarns of gossip
enough to fill a quilt for the deaf days.
Colors fly from rickety poles at the cemetery,
foreshadowing the sullen future for the flags
tucked away in the folds of Ben Davis's mirror.
Dairy Queen is the ruler of all that is sweet and delectable,
many an allowance is brought here,
only to melt away into a freshly washed polo behind the register.
They say that beauty is only as precious as the shadows which hide it.
Ask a dirty child why they hold thier heart-strings so tight around thier face,
and they'll say..
"cause my hood is beautiful".

Atmosphere: Happymess [Video/Lyrics]

2009-08-10T14:21:00.000-07:00

=Atmosphere: HappyMess=

[Verse 1]

Remember that time that I made you so mad
Last week right ha ha you know that
It's not like it's all that rare
So put it here and let me cherish the embarrassment
I realize I've been a dick head yes
And I respect how you question your investments
I take the plane but it ain't to be impressive
It feels like a cop out to label it lessons
I've been though the rain but I've put other people
through a hurricane just to work the game
Some time I swim through so much shame
I think my little man's blessed that he didn't get my last name
And here you are right in front of me
offering it all like tell me what you want from me
I wanna love you today and forever
Let me clear my throat and rub my wings together

[Chorus X2]
It goes: I'm not perfect but I'm this that and this
My hands are dirty and I'm this that and this
You've been searching for this that and this
Let's break the surface and make a little happy mess

[Verse 2]
Whoo girl, you're the most beautiful thing I've seen
Enticing, exciting
Even the sound of your voice gotta nice ring
Ya seem like the type that might help me tighten up my pipe dreams
We can keep digging through this dirt
Team up, you and I against the universe
Think about it, What cha say to yourself
You can wear my cape and I can play with your belt
The truth is there now
Stand with me, look into that mirror now
And tell me you don't see the same image
Gonna be a brand name babe once the rain is finished

[Chorus X2]

[Verse 3]
I can't believe she got me on a ball and chain
It's not a complaint, I appreciate it
For all the dumb mistakes I make
I'm surprised baby girl ain't threw me away
I never meant to hurt no one
I just want to stay productive till the work is done
I dance to a certain drum
but when I fell off beat you didn't turn and run, no
You see me at my lowest moments
You gave me sight when I had broken focus
With a smile that opens up like a rose does
Even when it felt so fucking hopeless
And here you are, right in front of me
Offering it all like 'tell me what you want from me'
I want to thank you today and forever
Let's make a little happy mess together
You know

[Chorus X2]

Pablo Neruda: 'Tonight I Write..' [Poem]

2009-08-04T14:15:00.000-07:00

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  
                                                                                                                                                                                                   Tonight I can write the saddest lines                                                                                                                                                                                       
                                                   
                                                                                                                                                             

                                                                                                                                                                       
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              =                                                                                                                                                                                                   Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.                                                                   
                                                                 
                                                                   =Pablo Neruda=

TOOL: Stinkfist [Video/Lyrics]

2009-07-22T13:04:00.000-07:00

[TOOL] Stinkfist

Something has to change.
Un-deniable dilemma.
Boredom's not a burden
Anyone should bear.

Constant over stimu-lation numbs me
but I would not want
You any other way.

Cause,
It's not enough.
I need more.
Nothing seems to satisfy.
I said,
I don't want it.
I just need it.
To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive.

Finger deep within the borderline.
Show me that you love me and that we belong together.
Relax, turn around and take my hand.

I can help you change
Tired moments into pleasure.
Say the word and we'll be
Well upon our way.

Blend and balance
Pain and comfort
Deep within you
Till you will not want me any other way.

But,
It's not enough.
I need more.
Nothing seems to satisfy.
I said,
I don't want it.
I just need it.
To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive.

Knuckle deep inside the borderline.
This may hurt a little but it's something you'll get used to.
Relax. Slip away.

Something kinda sad about
the way that things have come to be.
Desensitized to everything.
What became of subtlety?

How can this mean anything to me
If I really don't feel anything at all?

I'll keep digging till
I feel something.

Elbow deep inside the borderline.
Show me that you love me and that we belong together.
Shoulder deep within the borderline.
Relax. Turn around and take my hand.

Big Tuck Featuring Sleepy Lee: Bottom B!tch

2009-07-22T01:02:00.001-07:00

Bottom Bitch - Big Tuck ft.Sleepy Lee

BIG TUCK - Bottom Bitch lyrics (feat. Sleepy Lee)

[Big Tuck:]
What's happening mama, let me shoot at you
I'm digging your style, I see you feeling me too
Let's hop in the slab, go to the lake front view
I got some'ing on my mind, I'd like to share it with you
The limo tint, the bank up loud
It's just me you, and this hydro cloud
Damn you fine, thinking out loud
You got the potentials, of what I'm thinking about
(my bottom bitch), I need some'ing to trust
And at the end of the night, you'll be the some'ing I touch
It's easy right now, cause my life's so plush
Plus my cabbage is up, I won't ask you for much
I hope you get the point, that I'm shooting at you
If I was down on my luck, I'd be counting on you
To be my bottom bitch, my bottom bitch
My bottom bitch, my motherfucking bottom bitch

[Hook: Sleepy Lee]
I don't mean to come at you like this, but girl I need a bottom bitch
My motherfucking bottom bitch, (one just like you
If my hustle don't work, I could count on you to be my bottom bitch)
My bottom bitch, (show me a grind
Before I invest my time, I need to know that you down
To be a bottom bitch), my bottom bitch-my bottom bitch-my bottom bitch

[Big Tuck:]
My game too real, I know that I got her
The flawless jewelry, I guess she know I'm a rider
Fresh out the shower, body covered in Prada
The brand new Benz, plus the whiff of Piscota
I'm fresh to death, you'll be fresh too
My world's off the chain, let me share it with you
You won't be the same, after a hour or two
First class to London, to the Madimalshu
For my bottom bitch, diamonds and pearls
Don't forget the passport, we bout to travel the world
And it's just like that
It's amazing to have a face, and a shape like that
Let's blaze this sack, take this stack
This what it feel like, to have mink on your back
This for my bottom bitch, my bottom bitch
My bottom bitch, my motherfucking bottom bitch

[Hook]

[Sleepy Lee:]
Baby it's some thangs, that I gotta know
Would you be around, if I was po'
If I lost a million dollars, in a day
Would you still treat my Tempo, like an Escalade
Or would you, leave me lonely
Thinking bout you only, I just gotta know baby

[Hook]

[Sleepy Lee singing]

Let It Enfold You: Charles Bukowski [Poem]

2009-07-21T16:43:00.000-07:00

Let It Enfold You

either peace or happiness,
let it enfold you

when I was a young man
I felt these things were
dumb, unsophisticated.
I had bad blood, a twisted
mind, a precarious
upbringing.

I was hard as granite, I
leered at the
sun.
I trusted no man and
especially no
woman.

I was living a hell in
small rooms, I broke
things, smashed things,
walked through glass,
cursed.
I challenged everything,
was continually being
evicted, jailed,in and
out of fights, in and out
of my mind.
women were something
to screw and rail
at, I had no male
freinds,

I changed jobs and
cities, I hated holidays,
babies, history,
newspapers, museums,
grandmothers,
marriage, movies,
spiders, garbagemen,
english accents,spain,
france,italy,walnuts and
the color
orange.
algebra angred me,
opera sickened me,
charlie chaplin was a
fake
and flowers were for
pansies.

peace an happiness to me
were signs of
inferiority,
tenants of the weak
an
addled
mind.

but as I went on with
my alley fights,
my suicidal years,
my passage through
any number of
women-it gradually
began to occur to
me
that I wasn't different

from the
others, I was the same,

they were all fulsome
with hatred,
glossed over with petty
greivances,
the men I fought in
alleys had hearts of stone.
everybody was nudging,
inching, cheating for
some insignificant
advantage,
the lie was the
weapon and the
plot was
empty,
darkness was the
dictator.

cautiously, I allowed
myself to feel good
at times.
I found moments of
peace in cheap
rooms
just staring at the
knobs of some
dresser
or listening to the
rain in the
dark.
the less I needed
the better I
felt.

maybe the other life had worn me
down.
I no longer found
glamour
in topping somebody
in conversation.
or in mounting the
body of some poor
drunken female
whose life had
slipped away into
sorrow.

I could never accept
life as it was,
i could never gobble
down all its
poisons
but there were parts,
tenous magic parts
open for the
asking.

I re formulated
I don't know when,
date, time, all
that
but the change
occured.
something in me
relaxed, smoothed
out.
i no longer had to
prove that I was a
man,

I did'nt have to prove
anything.

I began to see things:
coffee cups lined up
behind a counter in a
cafe.
or a dog walking along
a sidewalk.
or the way the mouse
on my dresser top
stopped there
with its body,
its ears,
its nose,
it was fixed,
a bit of life
caught within itself
and its eyes looked
at me
and they were
beautiful.
then- it was
gone.

I began to feel good,
I began to feel good
in the worst situations
and there were plenty
of those.
like say, the boss
behind his desk,
he is going to have
to fire me.

I've missed too many
days.
he is dressed in a
suit, necktie, glasses,
he says, "I am going
to have to let you go"

"it's all right" I tell
him.

He must do what he
must do, he has a
wife, a house, children.
expenses, most probably
a girlfreind.

I am sorry for him
he is caught.

I walk onto the blazing
sunshine.
the whole day is
mine
temporailiy,
anyhow.

(the whole world is at the
throat of the world,
everybody feels angry,
short-changed, cheated,
everybody is despondent,
dissillusioned)

I welcomed shots of
peace, tattered shards of
happiness.

I embraced that stuff
like the hottest number,
like high heels, breasts,
singing,the
works.

(dont get me wrong,
there is such a thing as cockeyed optimism
that overlooks all
basic problems just for
the sake of
itself-
this is a shield and a
sickness.)

The knife got near my
throat again,
I almost turned on the
gas
again
but when the good
moments arrived
again
I did'nt fight them off
like an alley
adversary.
I let them take me,
i luxuriated in them,
I bade them welcome
home.
I even looked into
the mirror
once having thought
myself to be
ugly,
I now liked what
I saw,almost
handsome, yes,
a bit ripped and
ragged,
scares, lumps,
odd turns,
but all in all,
not too bad,
almost handsome,
better at least than
some of those movie
star faces
like the cheeks of
a baby's
butt.

and finally I discovered
real feelings of
others,
unheralded,
like lately,
like this morning,
as I was leaving,
for the track,
i saw my wife in bed,
just the
shape of
her head there
(not forgetting
centuries of the living
and the dead and
the dying,
the pyramids,
Mozart dead
but his music still
there in the
room, weeds growing,
the earth turning,
the toteboard waiting for
me)
I saw the shape of my
wife's head,
she so still,
I ached for her life,
just being there
under the
covers.

I kissed her in the,
forehead,
got down the stairway,
got outside,
got into my marvelous
car,
fixed the seatbelt,
backed out the
drive.
feeling warm to
the fingertips,
down to my
foot on the gas
pedal,
I entered the world
once
more,
drove down the
hill
past the houses
full and empty
of
people,
I saw the mailman,
honked,
he waved
back
at me.

Anonymous submission.

Charles Bukowski

Aesop Rock: Water [Video]

2009-07-20T15:08:00.000-07:00

Aesop Rock: Water

It was the most beautiful second-coming of Christ that anyone had ever seen...

Yo
The water ain't safe, the land's made of water
I hug a half empty glass my dignity's trying to pawn her
I'm trying to see the future in a tea cup and a saucer
But I rather be drinking coffee with my cigarette foster
And a run away buckle the cloud-nine fantasy filter to force the
brutal truth
Of daily market place wars through the roof
I mean I stood beneath the icicles that bleed under the awning
And magically mastered the great absorbing of spirit falling
But I'm sick, I've plowed these fields a thousand times over
Sold botanicle research studies to farmers with whole quarters
And when science proposes to art besides that peace-full sea
I'll be that cat with a ring on a pillow shouting finally
Take a number, the apple seeds rained upon each slumber
A hundred thousand freaks on parade for the village hunter
My every when acted upon has gone loopy
But I play a game called lets prepare barnacle city for the end
or new sink
I split the radius at go getter bellies, reconnaissance
Seeping fossil genie bottle optimist freeze
Run from the fountain but the fountain is a desert optical
tease
Tummy full of sand running man impossible stop
There's a wing in my gut and i'm all dust
Surfing the earth and I dine-rise certainly flushed
Now one in the hand is worth two atop the tallest cedar
But what lies inside my heart is off the mother f**king meter

[Chorus]
See the Water ain't safe no more
'I'm just trying to build my self to act as a truly better man
damn'
See the water ain't safe no more
'Nah nah the water ain't safe no more'
I'm just trying to be a solid oak tree for every child to carve
its name across
'The water ain't safe no more'
I'm just trying to be the dream of ever peasant the hurricane
can offer
'I'm just trying to be some body I can talk to in the morning
with a smile'
The Water ain't safe no more..

[Verse Two]

And i've always been a 40 night chronologic hostage
Rusted hook in the lip of the monarch
Wingless Anime
I don't play in the man race cycle
Hope floater
Gloating inside carnal indifference till doom cops are slight
and
potent quotas
I'm 20 something pumping acrylic tomorrow side ways
Blazing passage with a map tattooed on the back of the classless
Now tip toe across a lost cause
Because a lost cause found
Don't mean you found a cause
That means you found a lost cause
Ok now ive been here for role playing
Slaying my here and now
To benefit consumption for my peers steering the plow
And its incredible
Handy jackets turn numerals to sentinels
But bad apples ain't sweet and cretins ain't that memorable
I'm Mozart with a focus on the tide
Hiding the inconsistencies of man behind water and wine
I wear a tiger stripped ego and bilbo act my progression
With a kingliness formulated through the flesh of the oppressors
God had a flask I can prove it
You really think the 13 loops that loose daughter
spawned me a sober unit, check potion
Addressed the ghost inside my TV with a ruler
Adhere to the back bone stone pusher
Here ten thousand hackers deep in a movement
Thats 20,000 crucial ruby heels clicking in unison
It's beautiful, truly beautiful
I keep a stick inside my hand
and carve my name inside every wall of the falling hologram

[Chorus]
See the Water ain't safe no more
'I'm just trying to build my self to act as a truly better man
damn'
See the water ain't safe no more
'Nah nah the water ain't safe no more'
I'm just trying to be a solid oak tree for every child to carve
its name across
'The water ain't safe no more'
I'm just trying to be the dream of ever peasant the hurricane
can offer
'I'm just trying to be some body I can talk to in the morning
with a smile'
The Water ain't safe no more...

Interview Excerpt: Madlib in The Wire

2009-07-15T17:10:00.001-07:00

Madlib interview in The Wire

"The Crate Mass Experiment"

July 15, 2009

This is an excerpt from Wire's cover story on Madlib from their Aug. 2009 issue, which is available now. Check out thewire.co.uk for information about this issue, an MP3 exclusive of Madlib's Summer Suite, or a digital edition of the magazine at exacteditions.com

Prepare for a new yesterday, advises Madlib the former Lootpack MC who digs deep into his mental record crate to produce the wayward hip-hop of Quasimoto and the sample-libraries of Beat Konducta. Lisa Blanning hears about virtual one-man jazz bands, collaborations with J Dilla and Melvin Van Peebles, and his attempts to curate the past for music lovers of tomorrow. Photography by Jeremy & Claire Weiss

"My computer?" echoes Madlib incredulously. "I never use a computer. It's too easy. It's not easy to sound like Dilla, but you can make beats like Dilla with your computer, so that's why everybody sounds like Dilla." Madlib is in the middle of a European tour giving a rare interview - his first, in fact, since 2006. As we sit in his East London hotel room, I'm reminded that I'm talking to a man who doesn't use the internet or email. "You gotta look me in the eye," he explains. "That's why people start arguing. You can be bold while you're typing."

Otis Jackson Jr - producer, rapper, musician, crate-digging antiquarian - was born in 1973 and raised in Oxnard, California, 60 miles west of his current base of Los Angeles. We can get a glimpse of what life in suburban Oxnard must have been like from Gilbert & Jaime Hernandez's Love And Rockets comic books (Los Bros Hernandez are also from Oxnard, and many of their narratives are set there at the time young Otis was growing up). However, Madlib's lineage immediately set him apart. Born into a family of musicians, including his father Otis Senior, a vocalist, bandleader and studio player, mother Sinesca, a songwriter and guitarist, and his uncle, jazz trumpeter Jon Faddis, he was exposed to the secret workings of music recording from an early age.

From such auspicious beginnings, Madlib has become one of the most diverse and prolific artists in hip-hop. He made his underground cross-genre breakthrough as his wayward, apocryphal alter-ego Quasimoto; and his other major projects include Beat Konducta's curated collections of MC tools; his one- man virtual jazz band Yesterdays New Quintet and its spin-oils, in which he contributes drums, keyboards, bass and vibraphone; and his collaborations with the late J Dilla (Jaylib) and MF DOOM (Madvillain). Madlib's work traverses modern-day hip-hop to an extent that few can claim, and his crate-digging has reached such depths as to make him a veritable crate in himself, providing others with scores of tracks to help construct their own tunes. Yet for all the success his workaholism has brought him, he is a reticent public figure. "I hate standing in front of a crowd and having to show myself," he admits. "I'm a background dude."

The 'bad character' of Quasimoto is his most popular face, but behind all his masks Madlib is a reasonable and intelligent man. "It's all image," he smiles. "I play around, it's not serious. People take it seriously, but it's just playful."

Indeed, playfulness is the key to Madlib. When I spend a few post-interview hours with him and J Rocc - accomplished turntablist and the Funky President of LA's Beat Junkies crew as well as Madlib's friend - where we listen to an extraordinary amount of unreleased material (both by Madlib and by Dilla, whom they were both close to), the pair lose themselves in their own language, miming to tunes they are obviously very familiar with and joking endlessly, while constantly interrupting one tune to play another. It's a gratifying experience, especially when I see that their public performance at London's Fabric club the following night is almost exactly the same - only it's happening in front of a thousand people. From the stage, Madlib keeps repeating that we'll never hear these tracks again, and I believe him. "I'm more like a freestyle dude with beats," he confesses. "I just make a beat, go to the next. Take whatever you have, whatever you pick up you gotta use."

If you're using whatever you pick up and you're spending upwards of 12 hours a day in the studio, you end up with a massive amount of music. But, like his performance at Fabric, it's apparent that Madlib would be doing this even if nobody else was there. "All the music I do, I have to like it," he agrees. "1 wouldn't really care if nobody else liked it. I just have to feel it first. I love that people like it, though. I wouldn't really trip if nobody ever liked it, 'cause I'm doing it for my health first."

But people do like it, as his record sales prove, not to mention a steadily growing queue of artists asking him to produce them: names like De La Soul, Ghostface KilIah, Talib Kweli, Erykah Badu and now Mos Def. Just this one facet of his work would constitute an entire career for most people.

To hear some of Madlib's earliest appearances on record, though, you need to rewind to Lootpack's first releases in 1998 for Peanut Butter Wolf's Stones Throw Records, plus the trio's appearance on Wolf's own single of the same year, "Styles, Crews, Flows, Beats" - the start of a working relationship between Madlib and the California independent label that has lasted to this day. The following year, Stones Throw released Lootpack's only album, Soundpieces: Da Antidote!, produced by Madlib and featuring himself and Wildchild as MCs. Soundpieces was a solid album by the Oxnard school friends and featured appearances from a number of underground West Coast hip-hop artists, such as Dilated Peoples and Tha Alkaholiks, as well as mixing-from Kut Masta Kurt. Lootpack looked set to swell the ranks of California's healthy independent hip-hop community, but when Wolf persuaded Madlib to unleash his alter ego, Quasimoto (aka Lord Quas), it became obvious that Lootpack alone couldn't contain all the producer's ideas.

Although Quasimoto had made multiple supporting 'appearances' with Lootpack, he released his own album, The Unseen, in 2000. The project - which began as a private, psilocybin-fuelled joke never meant to be heard - quickly eclipsed Lootpack's promising start. "The second album came out first," Madlib confides, referring to The Unseen. "The first one never came out. The first one I was really just on 'shrooms, bugging out like crazy."

The reception for Quasimoto's 2005 follow-up, the equally disjointed The Further Adventures Of Lord Quas, was less effusive, yet its uncompromising experimentalism and full-on weirdness makes the record a deeper and even more satisfying journey. The mood is more intense than the laid back bounce of The Unseen and the grooves are wider in scope, playing off his preoccupations with Prog and films such as the 1973 French sci-fi flick Fantastic Planet (La Planete Sauvage). Amid its false or alternative endings and silent-movie-like accompaniments there are tracks like the rhythmically complex "Players Of The Game", a sobering examination of life in the music industry indexed to the richly harmonic, sliding stops of a bassline.

In the five years between the two Quasimoto albums, Madlib returned to his jazz roots with a project called Yesterdays New Quintet. While 2001's Angles Without Edges may have been credited to a quintet - YNQ purported to have five members, each with their own personal histories - every note played and sample triggered was the work of Madlib. "I knew jazz before I knew hip-hop," he reminds me, while pointing out that he always navigated his own personal route through the music when he was growing up. "Even though a lot of my family took lessons, I wanted to do my stuff a little different because) didn't want it to sound like the regular thing. I'm still learning. I just want to show the progress, from a beginner to finally figuring it all out."

As his ambition for the project increased, his musicianship likewise outgrew the original name. He has now discarded Yesterdays New Quintet in favour ofthe myriad fictional groups and genuine collaborations collected on Yesterdays Universe (2007), but he still directs us to "Prepare For A New Yesterday" (Yesterdays Universe's subtitle, and perhaps the most succinct strapline for the entire YNQ enterprise). With so many invented personalities peopling his projects, Madlib doesn't just record musical history, he rewrites it; and Stones Throw art director Jeff Jank's accompanying artwork pastiches naggingly familiar jazz LP sleeves, including one in vintage Blue Note style, for some of Yesterdays Universe's imaginary groups. These albums didn't come out in our universe, but in Madlib's parallel one, and here's the sleeve that proves it - complete with used price sticker and wear-and-tear marks where the vinyl pressed too long against the cardboard in some forgotten dusty crate.

All this hip-hop ingenuity and jazz worship did not go unnoticed. Eventually, Madlib was allowed access to original multitrack recordings from the vaults of jazz label Blue Note, who released the results as 2003's Shades Of Blue (the first album, in fact, produced under the name Madlib). Shades Of Blue featured remixes and YNQ reinterpretations of a specific post- bop era of the Blue Note catalogue, roughly between 1965-75. The label's patronage probably didn't affect the outcome too much: the laid back suppleness of the Madlib touch is familiar. But the absolute reverence with which he treats the source material is even more affecting than usual. The loving renderings pay homage to the musicians he has been attentively listening to for his whole life - Horace Silver, Wayne Shorter, Andrew Hill, et al. While some may have been hoping for Quasimoto-style radicalism, Madlib's record-coveting, music-nerd deference brings out the preservationist in him and solidifies his position as guardian of yesterday for the music lovers of tomorrow.

This is an excerpt from Wire's cover story on Madlib from their Aug. 2009 issue, which is available now. Check out thewire.co.uk for information about this issue, an MP3 exclusive of Madlib's Summer Suite, or a digital edition of the magazine at exacteditions.com

www.stonesthrow.com/madlib
www.stonesthrow.com/quasimoto
www.stonesthrow.com/ynq

Happy 27th Birthday To ME!!

2009-06-12T00:49:00.000-07:00

=A Birthday Wish To Myself=

Give me the strength to push forward
Hold me up when I stumble back
Help me forget my misgivings
Allow those I've hurt to move on
Make me believe more in myself
Whisper love into my heart again
Inhibit creativity through my talents
Forgive me for not trusting in my own strengths
Aide me in finding the answers to my wishes
Amen.

Youngblood Brass Band [Artist Spotlight]

2009-06-11T12:50:00.000-07:00

**The Youngblood Brass Band** [Artist Spotlight]

http://myspace.com/youngbloodbrass

The Youngblood Brass Band is a brass band from Oregon, Wisconsin, United States that was started by students at Oregon High School in 1995 when they were known as the One Lard Biskit Brass Band with the name changed to the current name in 1998.

History

The band's founding members, sousaphonist Nat McIntosh and snare drummer/lyricist D.H. Skogen, both went to Oregon High School and first played together in 1994. The band came together in 1995 as the One Lard Biskit Brass Band. The Youngblood name dates from 1998, the year the group put out their first album, Word On The Street. In 2000 Youngblood released Unlearn, which featured appearances by Talib Kweli, Mike Ladd, DJ Skooly and Ike Willis. Unlearn, which like Word On The Street was released independently, garnered the band significant attention and led to them being signed to Ozone Music NYC. The band's first album for Ozone, called center:level:roar, came out in 2003. They tour consistently in the United States and Europe, and in 2005 released a live album entitled live. places. on their Layered Music record label. Their newest album, Is That a Riot? (2006) was supported by multiple international tours and festival appearances. The band is also known for frequent educational visits to a range of public and private institutions.

Musical style

The Youngblood Brass Band combines the inspiration they took from the traditional New Orleans brass band sound with influences from jazz music, improvised music, a decidedly punk ethos, and a strong hip hop component. More than many New Orleans groups, the Youngblood band focuses on tight ensemble playing and pushing the boundaries of brass band music beyond its traditional genre, which allows them, even when performing live, to provide solid, diverse backing for Skogen's rapping and McIntosh's virtousic sousaphone work. Unable to be classified as either jazz, hip-hop, punk or any other existing genre, the band coined the term Riot Jazz. The band acknowledge the debt their music owes to the New Orleans bands, however, with performances of traditional tunes such as "Chinatown, My Chinatown", which they included on their Unlearn album.

In 2004, sousaphonist and primary arranger Nat McIntosh left the group. As Nat's music was a "main component of the band's sound since inception"^[1], his departure marked a change in sound for Youngblood Brass Band, as chronicled by the release of Live. Places.

Educational work

Band members credit "really good public school system arts-education programs" ^[2] for inspiring their love of music, and they make an effort to play for schools as well as at clubs and larger venues. Under the aegis of the Layered Arts Collective, which band members co-founded, they also present musical lectures where in addition to performing they speak about the history of brass bands and hip-hop. Layered also promotes free workshops for local Wisconsin youth, brings in national touring musicians and functions as label/publishing house for their family of artists (including Cougar, another genre-bending group of experimental rockers that also count D.H. Skogen as a member).

Members

Youngblood's current lineup features:

D.H. Skogen - percussion/vocals
Tom Reschke - percussion
Moses Patrou - percussion
Conor Elmes - percussion
David Bentley - sousaphone
Charley Wagner - trumpet
Mike Boman - trumpet
Tony Barba - saxophones
Zach Lucas - saxophones
Joe Goltz - trombone
Matt Hanzelka - trombone

Former members

Nat McIntosh
Carl Bartsch
Joe Goltz

Source:

"Pelo Muerto" [New Poem by Dal.]

2009-05-22T10:25:00.000-07:00

A Boy.
I pull a comb through the once fertile
waves
grains of age flicker and flake off with the
days
Pains, knowing the protection lessens against
rains
Gains, from experience and range through a
sage
Knowledge contained within each and every
strand
While they detach and fly away, know that I
stand
A Man.
©Dal 2009

I wrote this in response to a simple phrase, "going bald," and I feel it expresses the sentiments that a lot of us feel with age. In turning 27 soon, I certainly feel and witness the metaphorical and literal death of my hair each day.

Camp Lo: Real HipHop [Uptown Saturday Night]

2009-05-12T21:32:00.000-07:00

Can you feel the wave of nostalgia flood your ears and soul with euphonious melodies that resonate throughout, allowing one to reminisce on what matters? Do YOU know what that 'thing' is?....It's FEEL GOOD MUSIC! Support hip hop, not the MoneyGram rappers out in the world right now. Granted, the heydey of hiphop has led to the proliferation of wackness, but as long as we look back to and learn from our past, than we can influence the future. keep ya heads movin'!!

Artist Spotlight: Zezäo

2009-05-10T02:46:00.000-07:00

Artist Spotlight: Zezão

Not many people see sewer systems as a perfect artistic arena,
but then again Zezão is no average artist-
he’s a leader of the Brazilian abstract street art movement.

To Zezão, sewers are the perfect canvas.
Famous for his activity in the city's underground,
Zezão goes into sewers and invades the rainwater channels that flow
toward São Paulo's rivers to reveal the beauty of the city’s monstrous garbage.

Talk about beauty being in the eye of the beholder.

More on Zezão at www.lost.art.br/zezao.htm

http://www.flickr.com/photos/zezao/

Artist:Zezâo [PSYCHODELIC'S 2008 Series]

2009-05-10T02:44:00.001-07:00

PSYCHODELIC'S 2008, originally uploaded by zezao.

I came across this photo on Flickr and simply had to throw this up on my blog.. Wow the blending of color almost seamlessly, as if each one was borne of the other is stunning!! [Interview Coming Soon]

MURS: Break Up (The OJ Song) [Video]

2009-04-23T18:38:00.000-07:00

MURS: Break Up (The OJ Song)

Artist: MURS
Album: Murs For President

Lyrics:

I wanna hear your voice but I don't want you to call
I wanna see you girl but not see you at all
I wanna make up but I still wanna fight
I wanted to break up but it just don't feel right...

I hate you, you hate me
but still can't escape we
and all the bullshit we've been going through lately
heartbroke, lovestruck, tellin' y'all it ain't me
life without you girl, is something that I can't see
I ain't gon' lie say I don't get lonely
but it's only so much I can kick it with the homeys
somebody told me you already moved on
I broke up with you, you ain't supposed to get your groove on!
Not now, at least wait a couple weeks
got me looking like a chump with my business in the streets
been a couple weeks but it feels like you're still there no matter how clean I'm still finding your hair or some shit you forgot, or I'm standing in that spot, where you came so hard I didn't think that you would stop!
But quiet as a step, I know you miss me just a little
washed the sheets when you left, but still smell you on my pillow and...

Everything I do it reminds me of you, and
Everything I see reminds me of we, and
Every time I lust it reminds me of us,
Girl I wanna stay together cuz I hate breaking up

You didn't call me last night, what you trying to be, strong?
You'll call yourself stupid when you finally hear this song 'cause I would've took you back
I was waiting to, in fact
all you had to do was hollar, girl
I would've just collapsed and
fell into a trap and started to relapse
and yo ass never called so it just never happened.
Now I'm thinking Jasmine, Tanya, Sherane
some exes I could call that'll probably ease the pain
I try ta follow through but I wind up calling you
hanging up before it ring, girl it's really all on you
but you'd wanna get into it, make me mad, push my buttons
got us tripping off of little stuff that don't mean nothin
I was sick of the suffering, the fighting, the fussing
what happened to the love and the late night discussions
about children and family, the future, the planet
now it's all over 'cause you couldn't understand me...

Everything I do it reminds me of you, and
Everything I see reminds me of we, and
Every time I lust it reminds me of us,
Girl I wanna stay together cuz I hate breaking up

Started missing you again last night -
'til I remembered all the reasons that yo ass loved to fight, it's like dude-
I really wanted this to work, but you-
had to get your shit together first,
but what's worse
I really wanted you to stay but I needed you to leave 'cause we was fighting everyday
Alright, not everyday, I know that that's a lie
darn it, we was supposed to be companions
we was more like opponents
don't this song make you wanna do it one more time?
Can I still be the only dude that's on your mind?
I'm too proud to beg, but I'm hoping that you're not
I would take you back quick girl, without a second thought
but I'm caught up in my pride
and I can't make the call
I didn't want ta break up, just a break, that's all
it's been a long time, I know I probably shouldn't have left you
'cause you're the only woman that I wanna sleep next to

And everything I do, it reminds me of you
And everything I see, it reminds me of "we"
And everytime I lust, it reminds me of us
Girl, I wanna stay together 'cause I hate breaking up

You say you're sick of me and I say I'm sick of you
But we crazy 'bout eachother, girl, what we gon' do?
Said I needed you to leave, but I hate to see you go
Can't make up my mind, girl, I just don't know
I wanna make this work but I'm sick of the struggle
Girl, what I gotta do to make you realize I love you?
I ain't gon' lie, sometimes I just don't feel you
But find another man, and I just might kill you
(Sitting here waiting on you).

P.S. I don't know why, but this song just touches me from a humanistic perspective. Although he is an artist, who is known for his accolades, a song such as this, replete with honesty and feeling is refreshing, and illustrates a passion not found in most musicians. We all have felt this way at some point in our lives, but to have a soundtrack to such an emotional event, allows one to feel that 'Hey-Me-Too' epiphany stemming from deep within.

The Desperate Ones: Nina Simone [Song/Video[

2009-04-21T00:52:00.000-07:00

CLOSE your eyes...LISTEN TO/WATCH THE VIDEO...Your eyes will OPEN.

alisolja15 (12:53:16 AM): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0SXtIjSN2w
calisolja15 (12:53:23 AM): that.song.right.there
calisolja15 (12:53:40 AM): Dal!
calisolja15 (12:53:46 AM): get it togetherrrrrrrrrrrrr
calisolja15 (12:53:58 AM): (and listen to that song lol....it can be your soda)
daluris (12:54:51 AM): that voice freaks me out :-(
calisolja15 (12:54:56 AM): good
calisolja15 (12:55:10 AM): she has the voice of raw emotion
calisolja15 (12:55:31 AM): and shes only whispering on this song lol
daluris (12:55:58 AM): The old lady picture makes me ascared :-\
calisolja15 (12:56:16 AM): lol
calisolja15 (12:56:18 AM): close your eyes
calisolja15 (12:56:22 AM): and focus on the words
daluris (12:58:57 AM): That was the craziest mind fuck I have ever experienced [The Desperate Ones].. Faovrited
calisolja15 (12:59:05 AM): lol
calisolja15 (12:59:16 AM): its one of my favorite nina songs
calisolja15 (12:59:27 AM): her voice isnt good at all, but its so pure
calisolja15 (12:59:33 AM): kinda the way tom waits is
calisolja15 (12:59:41 AM): (or bob dylan?)
calisolja15 (1:00:22 AM): ^all three are legends...so i guess that says a lot about overcoming what you dont have with what you do
daluris (1:01:47 AM): yeah, like after a bit.. i was in a wierd trance just listening to that song..it flowed into my ears, whispered into my heart, than yelled at my brain :-(
calisolja15 (1:02:03 AM): lol
calisolja15 (1:02:13 AM): thats something to be proud of.

CLOSE your eyes...LISTEN TO/WATCH THE VIDEO...Your eyes will OPEN.

P.S. The above convo illustrates the power of experiencing new perspectives on music, the human mind, and the beauty in being open to new ways of listening to whats inside each of us. I like cats.

2009-04-21T00:00:00.001-07:00

Do you see yourself in this picture? Can you see my bones?

We are all walking skeletons, turned inside out. Our bones represent the inner strength that we inherently possess, with flesh merely being the precursor to our true selves. Why must we touch, retouch, and beautify the cocoon we call skin, when inevitably, our insecurities will fall away and be lost? If your skin becomes looser with age, than you are one step closer to becoming a floating, brittle butterfly, a skeleton, free of the prejudices that bind you from the world. Scars will be laid open wider than a child's smile, for all to revel in.

Always,

Dal.

"Metaphors to Microphones": Essay By Luis I. Bobadilla

2009-04-20T22:19:00.000-07:00

"Metaphors to Microphones"
Mixed Methods Essay
Luis Bobadilla

4/17/07

Take a deep breath. Inhale the city smog and the subtle scent of Curve wafting on the air currents from some perky club goer in the crowd.. Let the warbling of the feedback from the large Pioneer speakers behind you tickle your membranes, as you prepare to grab the microphone. The various onlookers seem perplexed by this anonymous figure whose silent aura seems to command attention. Quick to uncrumple the ball of paper you’ve been holding in your fist for the last 10 minutes, it looks like its your turn to read. Before every performance, the same scenario plays in my mind, causing me to relapse to a place of familiarity, the stage of life. Every iota of my body was made to create and share my poetry with the general public, which makes me feel like im making a subtle difference in someone’s everyday experience. I know that most people are fearful of being subjected to public presentations, whether it be in front of a class, or at a poetry reading with some close comrades. I have a few steps that you can take, based on my experiences, that may lead you in the right direction to possibly getting involved with public poetry reading. These steps include building relationships with poetry lovers, attending events, and the tandem team of writing and reciting.

My love of poetry has grown from the seed instilled in me ever since elementary school where I was assigned to write a poem or two to stir up creative juices. I mixed my feelings up into a piece about a peach in reference to life, and drank the nectar of literature with furvor and undying interest. What piqued my writing, even at such a young age, was not just the simple act, but the many different ways in which I could express one idea. Throughout the years, this artistic versatility also brought out of me, many feelings which had been previously untapped. The sap of misery leaked from my hands onto the paper with every sentence i wrote, and to this day, i constantly remind myself that the rotting spots in my tree of life can be patched up with love and the acceptance of my mistakes. Along the way, I have not only met people who feel that poetry can heal pain, but those who want to help others to alleviate thier tribulations, and garner more attention by staying positive yet poignant in thier writing. In learning how to eventually perform your pieces in public, you need to surround yourself with good friends, or even mere acquantances that have the same love for poetry that you do, which only boosts your confidence tenfold. Of course noone in your writing circle is going to wear a poet pendant or write with a guilded gold pen, but they will understand the apprehension you will have when writing your work, and can usually give you valuable feedback on what to improve. Your poetic friends shouldn’t be your writing crutch as you struggle with the knowledge that as a future spoken word poet, or live poetry performer, you will inevitably write that one bad piece that noone, not even yourself, really enjoys reading. When this happens, we as writers, need to take a break and enjoy the creative writing of others to gain experience and cultivate new ideas from a fresh perspective. Most, if not all of those in my poetry circle are local hiphop artists who have meticulously honed thier lyrical ability, who want to present themselves in a more sensetive and personal light. Yes they are skilled at thier craft, but it doesn’t mean that you have to be a wordsmith to read poetry, or have rappers as friends to gain and build friendships. Anyone that shows an inkling for writing can be invaluable in accepting poetry as it is, and enjoy the simple musings of an everyday citizen who has something to say. As I may have mentioned the favorite method I have to expose myself to poetry is in a raw and real, spoken word performance which is the culmination of the steps in your journey.

Snap. I am not the average spoken word poet. Snap. I’ll never don a beret, or wear the stereotypical dark glasses in a smoke filled coffee house, but I know what being alive means to me. Snapping back to reality, I begin to think about how energy flows through me, everytime I hear someone read a piece they’ve written from the heart. I began my interest in the art of live performing through the unlikeliest of places, an online message board. A few years ago, I went to a local emcee hiphop battle that happens every year, Micfights, and was referred by the host, my friend Runt who has his own hiphop group, to his website, jivinmusic.com. As I began interacting through the boards, I found many people with common interests who hung out on weekends and at various local happenings. One such happening was a monthly venue called Dynamite Soul, in which local artists, poets, breakdancers, and musicians gathered to express themselves through poetry, art and conversation. It was free for the public, and planted the seed of acceptance in many poets who wouldn’t have otherwise stepped forward to read thier own poetic epics. Events such as these are key in the exposure that you as a spoken word hopeful might want to go to, in order to gain valuable insight and socially assimilate yourself into the artistic community.

I feel that listening and watching others perform can help the casual writer gain confidence and experiences that otherwise would probably never be discovered in everyday happenings. Live poetry is a reverie so raw that tears through the toughest of flesh, a spoken word performance is the crescendo of the human condition. At a reading, you and your words are vulnerable to the world, as a naked babe is when it absconds from the womb. When I am standing in the crowd, I feel at peace and am infused with the literary musings of another person, which lets me peek into the keyhole of thier perspective. If you don’t feel comfortable going by yourself, im sure a few buddies wouldn’t mind going with you to gain some knowledge and have fun. Once you immerse yourself in the spoken word element and find your poetic identity, it will hopefully encourage you to take the next step, writing.

Even though I have been involved with creative writing since elementary school, I hadn’t really written and conceptualized anything substantial with any intensity for the public forum, until my freshman year at Palo Verde High School. As most adolescents are when crusading into a new environment, I felt that I was alone and vulnerable to the social bully that is education. From this solidarity grew a want and need to express myself with whatever tools I had at my disposal. During the next few years, through my poetic musings, I began to assemble an identity to which the world could identify me with. Solace was gained through my scribbled ranting, but only within my own mind. Initially, I didn’t share any of my ideas with others until I found, what I thought, was my true love. She was a raven-haired yaqui woman with a smile that lit my heart. We were together for 1 year and 11 months, but alas it wasn’t meant to be. After that, I longed to be whole again, and used writing to hold my hand. The friendships that I gained, mostly through my stronger love for hiphop and poetry, allowed me to grow and flourish in the community. During my last 2 years at PV, with the egging on of my small group of buddies, I began to formulate what we lovingly referred to as “freestylin’”. Sporadic sessions of random ramblings thrown in the middle of infrequent spitting and beats constructed through tongue and teeth, were our ways of passing time and squeezing some fun out of monotony. Through our sessions, I found that sloshing the words on paper was a better way of organizing my thoughts, and could be used to formulate my thoughts for poetry. We all write things everyday, whether it be notes, memos, or letters to friends. Since you, as a potential writer and performance artist will be doing alot of writing and some performing, it’s best that you take from your experiences and close peers, and apply them to your own work. If you attempt to grab random things out of the air, than your pieces won’t be nearly as personal and filled with that raw, tender emotion that flows fluidly through the rivers of prose.

When I feel that problems are too hard to deal with, I most often try to write and express them, in order to relieve myself of tension and as a sort of release. You might feel, as you unlock your soul, that some things should be contained and never shared with the public, but that most often isn’t the case. Others who hear or read your words can learn more about themselves through your eyes, or merely think about the world in a different light. Even if you think that the little nuances that pass through your mind aren’t important enough to write down, they are. I know that it may take time before you as a writer, or interested party, release your doves of poetry to the world in any form, much less spoken word, but writing will certainly help. We have a duty as writers or fans of poetry to lend support and asisstance to artists that want to make a career of creativity, or merely get the gall to perform and share thier art aloud.

The final step in our journey is the performance of a lifetime, a chance to bare your soul to the universal community. One of the most memorable times that I had when involved with a live set was at the CD release party of one of my esteemed colleagues, James Ciphurphace. As one of Tucson’s premier underground hiphop artists, and a heart felt performer, he invited me to open for him at the release of his opus, An Honest Days Work. Nestled in the confines of Vaudeville Cabaret, the night began with little fanfare or hoots and hollers. At around 9 pm, I arrived early to get in front, I snaked my way through the scattered makings of a crowd. Along the way, I shook hands and greeted with open arms whoever recognized me, and took the time to chat a bit. Finally, at around 10pm, the time came for the festivities to start. I had my poem clenched in fist, and felt something similar to gnomes doing a jig in my stomach. I had arrived. This was the ultimate test of my skills and would ultimately be one of the last times I would perform for a long time. James began the introductions of those who would ultimately perform, and thanked those in attendance. My name was called, and I walked onto the stage. My eyes were blinded, not by the lights overhead, but by the fact that i had made it to this point at all. There seemed to be an azure haze sneaking among the floating heads, with murmurs and banter eminating from somewhere in the back. My mind slipped a little, as I started to read, because of the annoyances and rude people not paying attention, but my true fans stood solemnly in the front, egging me on. I read from the scroll on which my words were penned, with more enthusiasm and feeling than a thousand poets, and my chest burst with the power of the sun, as my friends and family erupted with applause. This was my destiny. Finally, after so many years, I had done what i felt was right, but didn’t have the heart to do, until that day. I think that every person who wants to write poetry, and possibly perform a piece in public, would benefit from such an epiphany as i had. It doesn’t have to be on such a grand scale as my experience, it could be in front of your parents or even a mirror. When you feel the time is right for your words to be unchained, you will know. As you stand in the back of some coffee shop, listening to someone else’s words, or while sitting on the bus reading a passage you’ve enjoyed many times before, you will know. As you write, and expose yourself to criticism and praise by peers, family and instructors, im sure there will come a time when you feel ashamed for having said so much, but you will be stronger for it. The main obstacle you have to overcome before stepping from the crowd, into the light, is the fear of rejection. I have felt at times that I wasn’t good enough, or that my words were insignificant, but when someone told me they were touched by a phrase or emotion, I felt right. It will probably take months, or in the worst case scenario, years for a spoken word poet, to hone thier craft, but good things come to those who wait.

We all have hobbies that we enjoy doing to pass the time, and as we know, in order to be the best at our game, we must make tiny steps of improvement. In my own way, I have stumbled along the spoken word community with the above advice in mind, and have succeeded. Through following my advice, you as an interested party, can also learn to expose yourself to the element, possibly pen your own musings, meet some buddies who want to listen, and hit the stage with your own work. I feel that by seeing the world through my eyes, you can get a real life touch of what its like to be a live poet. In conclusion, poetry is near and dear to my heart, and i would love for every single person in the world to become a spoken word poet, but I know that only the strong will survive. It takes practice and perseverence to overcome the literary hurdles that life throws in front of us, but we need to be that body in the masses that says, “I have a voice.”

P.S. This essay was an assignment I found on my computer for my WRT 101 class that I hope inspires someone to get out there and READ/WRITE/SUPPORT Poetry! Enjoy the read and let me know what you liked/disliked, loved/didn't love about this piece. Keep your heads up and your pens down. Always supporting good literature.

Peace,

Dal.

Mayer Hawthorne: I Wish It Would Rain

2009-04-18T02:04:00.000-07:00

Mayer Hawthorne - I Wish It Would Rain

This song is SO beautiful, it simply encapsulates all of the feelings that are running through my life at this point in time. This joint is so soulful and feels so natural, and oozes with potential to be the 'sound' that carries the world out of this creative funk that we have placed on our backs. This man's music is what our inner selves need in order to truly feel whole again, we need melodies that can tug at our proverbial heartstrings once more. The giants with puzzled hearts shall rise and beat their breasts with renewed faith in the power of REAL humbling melodies and lyrics that cut to the marrow of reasoning. Enjoy it, because we all need the rain, to appreciate the sunlight. Peace!

Break Yo' Neck!!! [ASL Video]

2008-12-25T13:05:00.000-08:00

Break Yo Neck!! [ASL]

It's heading to a new year, hopefully rich with talents, innovations, ideas, and aspirations, coming to the forefront more than ever. I would like to think that all of the same concepts mentioned above will be realized in my own life, and if not than at least I can enjoy the culmination of humanity whose expression of love show true.

RoC 'C': "My Life" Feat.. Aloe Blacc, Produced and Directed by Oh No

2008-12-16T15:42:00.000-08:00

RoC 'C': "My Life" Feat.. Aloe Blacc [Video]

P.S. This shit is fuckin' dope, y'all better Listen UP! Peep out all of Stones Throw, especially Oh No and Madlib Da Bad Kid, they insane with the beatage!

The Grouch: "Breathe" [VIDEO Premiere]

2008-12-15T21:04:00.000-08:00

The Grouch: "Breath" from Show You The World Limited Vinyl EP

P.S. Legends baby!! This song is fuckin' dope, fresh, whatever you wanna call it...stone cold music!!

Mayer Hawthorne & The County [New Stones Throw Artist!!!]

2008-11-05T18:59:00.000-08:00

Introducing: Mayer Hawthorne & The County

November 04, 2008

Mayer Hawthorne is Stones Throw's newest artist. His debut track “Just Ain't Gonna Work Out” (aka “I'm Sorry”) premiered on Giles Peterson's Best of 2008 (BBC Radio 1) a few weeks back. Mark Ronson picked it up for his show, saying “I have no idea what this is, old or new, but it's fucking good!”

We held off on saying anything about Mayer Hawthorne while we waited for these heart-shaped 45s to roll in. We've got them now: “Just Ain't Gonna Work Out” b/w “When I Said Goodbye” – limited 1000 copies.

Mayer Hawthorne is from Detroit and now lives in Los Angeles. He wrote, played, recorded and sang on these tracks. As for the rest of "what it is," check out Mayer Hawthorne's bio written by Ronnie Reese at the link below.

Mayer Hawthorne bio:
www.stonesthrow.com/mayerhawthorne

The heart-shaped 45 & high-quality digital download:
“Just Ain't Gonna Work Out”

The song:
MP3: “Just Ain't Gonna Work Out”

Mayer Hawthorne - When I Said Goodbye

Gravity: John Mayer [Video/Lyrics]

2008-10-28T20:04:00.000-07:00

Gravity
John Mayer

Gravity
Is working against me
And gravity
Wants to bring me down

Oh I'll never know
What makes this man
With all the love
That his heart can stand
Dream of ways
To throw it all away

Oh Gravity
Is working against me
And gravity
Wants to bring me down

Oh twice as much
Ain’t twice as good
And can't sustain
Like one half could
It's wanting more
gonna send me to my knees

instrumental

Oh twice as much
Ain’t twice as good
And can't sustain
Like one half could
It's wanting more
gonna send me to my knees

Oh gravity
Stay the hell away from me
Oh gravity
Has taken better men than me
Now how can that be?

Just keep me where the light is
Just keep me where the light is
Just keep me where the light is
C’mon keep me where the light is
C’mon keep me where the light is
C’mon keep me where keep me where the light is

P.S. Wow, I can't believe I barely heard this song on Dancing with the Stars last week! This song is absolutely amazing and just touches me in such an intense way. In "Live from Abbey Road", a studio session series, John Mayer actually explains his song whose original intent was to illustrate the true meaning of the human experience and that "It's about not falling from whatever rung of grace that you're on". This song could be played over and over again, and each time a new experience can be related to it, although the lyrics mention a man, the underlying concepts can be applied to anyone. Hopefully anyone who listens to this song will feel a scintillating rush of emotion and simply enjoy the simplicity with which the lyrics are delivered and the smooth melody that permeates through the musical landscape. John Mayer is such a talented writer and musician with such velvety vocals and immeasurable presence in the world of music. Enjoy.

Pigeon John: Dropping Some Ill Shit

2008-10-12T23:14:00.000-07:00

Pigeon John: "So Gangster" Live from Fingerprints Long Beach
P.S. the video is a bit irky in some parts n throws up a bit..but fuck this song is DOPE!

Pigeon John: "Life Goes On Feat. Abstract Rude"
P.S. this joint is simply positivity and feel good all over music..no need for guns n bullshit, just plain ol' music!

Sonnet XVII: [Pablo Neruda]

2008-10-03T18:00:00.000-07:00

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

-Pablo Neruda-

P.S. This piece was originally featured in the inspiring movie, "Patch Adams," and essentially encapsulates the undying love that one can have for another, even in death. I was touched, not merely by the manner in which it was written, but by the performance of said poem in the aforementioned movie. Patch [Robin Williams] evoked such pain, longing, and irrefutable passion when reciting throughout the film, that at one point I had to pause/fast forward/rewind the movie just to catch a glimpse at the title of the book wherein it is contained! Neruda's poem, is the epitome of heartfelt reasoning constructed around the shell of the human spirit, that allows the reader to divulge and exhume their own feelings, even at first glance.

The Panther [By Rainer Maria Rilke]

2008-09-27T20:52:00.000-07:00

'The Panther'

From seeing the bars, his seeing is so exhausted
that it no longer holds anything anymore.
To him the world is bars, a hundred thousand
bars, and behind the bars, nothing.

The lithe swinging of that rhythmical easy stride
which circles down to the tiniest hub
is like a dance of energy around a point
in which a great will stands stunned and numb.

Only at times the curtains of the pupil rise
without a sound . . . then a shape enters,
slips though the tightened silence of the shoulders,
reaches the heart, and dies.

=Rainer Maria Rilke=

This poem speaks to me on many levels, namely the feeling I get sometimes when feeling depressed or utterly frustrated. it's as if I can see the creative horizon, yet stand stuck within the confines of my own emotions which never let me reveal anything but what the world wants to see. In these troubled moments, there are those that can, for a subtle instance get close, but not ever closer, to the true, inner ME.

Count Bass D: Robbed Without A Pistol!!

2008-09-22T01:00:00.000-07:00

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Count Bass D - Robbed Without A Pistol (2008)

Feel free to share this instrumental project on your blogs by sharing the link or making your own. It's 320KBPS and it's 30 minutes long. Please let me know if you share this on your blog so I can add you to my Blog Roll Call.

Please mention to everyone that I have a project called L7 (Mid-Life Crisis) that will be released next month on 1320 Records. If you have the ability to support that project, I would certainly appreciate it. I would also appreciate it if you put this project on your blogs instead of that one.

Everyone can not afford to purchase music in these days & times so here is my gift to all those people.

Thank you in advance for any show of support.

This Is The Link

P.S. The above was 0riginally Posted By Count Bass D

Don't Let Anything Defeat You! [Video]

2008-08-18T10:59:00.000-07:00

There has been speculation as to whether this gentleman is a sham [whether or not he is debilitated] but you can't tell me that isn't kinda inspirational.

-Poetential [Writer Photo Series]-

2008-08-12T13:19:00.000-07:00

The Time Has Come..

2008-08-12T13:12:00.001-07:00

Dal.0314.JPG, originally uploaded by daluris.

Now is the time for decision making, the poet plots his plan of action...

My Identity Must Be Kept Secret!

2008-08-12T12:55:00.001-07:00

Dal.0318.JPG, originally uploaded by daluris.

Fearing that his alter-ego was compromised...the poet hid his face from the world.

Leave Me to My Work!

2008-08-12T12:43:00.001-07:00

Dal.0317.JPG, originally uploaded by daluris.

During his literary experiments, our dark hero was disturbed....

Eye Will Conquer..

2008-08-12T12:28:00.001-07:00

Dal.0316.JPG, originally uploaded by daluris.

Contemplating his vengeance, the brooding hero sits waiting for the opportune time to strike...

Vessel [One of my Fav. Older Poems]

2008-08-01T08:34:00.000-07:00

**Vessel**

The vessel sails away with her amber sails waving somberly in my direction.
I long for the nights when I could see the vessel’s ivory paint gently gleaming in the moonlight,
unknowingly teasing my mind.
My dreams are filled with adventure and mystery, than as if by a hidden miracle,
my vessel coasts into the emerald pools of lust.
I gaze at her cavernous interior, forever peeking through the keyhole, but never tread too far forward.
Why do you evade me so?
Why does your anchor never touch ground, as i sit in my self-made no man’s land?
Love is the treasure map that leads me forevermore to your harbor, o’ silent marauder of the sea.
I see that you have no captain to steer your lamplights by the stars, yet you waft through my life each night.
During the day,
i see nothing.
My vessel of passion is no longer visible in the calm waters of turmoil.
Absentmindedly, my eyes look to the horizon, but see nothing but an old tugboat,
floating alone.
Could it be?
No my sight must deceive me, that is not my beloved vessel!
At dusk, I solemnly lay on the cold deck and stare up at the milky sky,
littered with peaches and pillows of sangria.
Tenderly, my eyelids close like an old barn door,
slowly and wearily creaking shut.
I constantly wander around town,
wishing you would sail back to me.
your sheen is reflected in the countless windows and side walk cracks.
My tireless feet take over, journeying to the water’s edge,
waiting
anxiously for a glimpse of your whispering sails.
I’ve written many letters with these calloused hands than tucked them gingerly into Dr. Pepper bottles to be set into the ebbing waves.
the message bottles float amongst cerulean froth and embracing current,
to one day clink against your hull with good tidings.
On a restless February evening,
with my sheets suffocating the life out of my skin,
you appeared!
I was so close to the brink of arctic chill,
without knowing when my breath would cease
until my beloved vessel returned.
There you were,
with your emerald lamps glowing gently through my fogged eyelids.
I still remember your amber sails and iridescent ivory paint each night
as you lay beside me.

Dal.©2004

p.s. You know you are...this is for you.

[ASL Sign Song:] KJ- Eminem/Superman

2008-07-24T01:01:00.000-07:00

One of the best rap songs I 've ever seen signed by a Deaf person in a long time.. enjoy and appreciate that he is doing this all without the luxury of hearing, and essentially 'feels' the beat.

Ode to Little Feet [New Poem]

2008-07-19T14:16:00.000-07:00

Im' Kickin it'
old school
in the womb.
Imma practically be born
with Chucks on.
But for now
i'm kickin'
when im hungry
sad
mad
glad
whateva.
This is my crib.
I get to eat when I want
and sleep when I want
I got it made.
I been waiting to bust out
cause these walls
trynna keep me down man
but im
fresh
safe
classic.
I'm the New Kid on the Block
but without dat wack hair.
Mom and Dad collaborated
and made me
a G.
I got mad poetential to be
anything I want.
I can rap
write
paint
fight
smile
laugh
cry
wake up my moms
slap my pops
whateva.
I do what I want,
until I break out this
joint.
Than my folks gonna be buggin'.
But
Imma kick it
for about another
8 months
than
I'm outtie!

Dal. Open Mic Poetry [Videos Circa' 2006]

2008-07-16T00:05:00.000-07:00

..

..

Performed during the hey day of open mic poetry in Tucson Arizona, [R.I.P. Dynamite Soul], these pieces were important in cementing my place in local literary history as one of the last true testaments to what we lack in the scene nowadays.

[Artist Spotlight]: Sharlok Poems!

2008-07-15T13:53:00.000-07:00

Float [New Poem]

2008-07-15T00:43:00.000-07:00

Float

Sleep
Float on your pillow until
day breaks
Awaken with new breath
feel me in your chest
Awake
seeing the world through
new eyes and fresh
passion
Rise above all else
Alive
Touch your skin and remember
Me.
I love you
scrawled on every surface
with awaiting
arms.
Missing
the way you seem to
glow with awe inspiring
beauty.
Within my mind
you slumber
each night
and when day breaks
think of
when we felt alive
and light enough to
forget the pain
and
kiss until we
could

float.

Cardbored Box [Poem]

2008-07-13T21:11:00.000-07:00

=Cardbored Box=

Welcome to the kick-around palace that my mind slumbers in.
I hate it.
Sneaky droplets try to steal my warmth
with their flitting daggers of poverty.
Peeking behind each crevice
they gurgle gargle and laugh
all the while sprinkling on my
parade.
Rap on my beat box
and awaken
the crying beast
within.
I peer through the holes
soul
cavities
to get to the root of my problem.
decay........

Quasi-Haiku Series [Poems..Duh]

2008-07-12T21:44:00.000-07:00

/Quasi-Haiku Series/

my balls itch a lot
please rub away this bad pain
I no longer have feeling

You shall die soon bitch
poetically you suck ass
An ass kicking gift

Gentle midgets dance
frolicking in the poppy field
dance midgets dance

Saliva drips down
My pillow awakens sad
Why is my face wet?

A gentle breeze floats
no one knows it came from me
silent but deadly

Male cats need sex too
they get the nookie at night
some male cats are gay

p.s. If these offend, well...too bad.

Eye See You [Older Poem]

2008-07-12T21:39:00.000-07:00

Eye See You

Eye see you lying there, your mouth agape like a door ajar,
with teeth smiling.
Eye see you trying to eek a life out of the boulders and crags of our desolate landscape,
scraping the surface with a wooden spoon.
Eye see you complying there in your little cubicle
amongst your staple friends and paper enemies.
Eye see you replying to those angry love letters,
clutching the Bic dagger in your broken hand.
Eye see you flying through many windows yet,
your skin is never pierced and your eyes stay blind.
Eye see you lying scared,
eluding the fact that your skin is your worst camouflage.
Eye see you trying to make money by rubbing yourself on aluminum,
wrapped in band-aids.
Eye see you making a mockery of your people by signing for plastic,
instead of working hard for your paper.
Eye see you faking your identity,
so you can drown in glass bottles and surround yourself with bubble buddies.
Eye see you taking off your face,
swabbing away the television image,
revealing your beautiful leprosy.
Eye see you staking a claim to land that isn’t your’s,
killing it’s inhabitants.
Eye see you erasing the past with a single eraser swipe,
filling in the blanks.
Eye see you facing life's problems with a dull knife and a gun jammed.
Eye see you wasting away your life flipping beef and taking orders from a big styrofoam ball.
Eye see you wanting to make a change,
but still want coins clinking in your cup.
Eye see you flaunting flashy things but your expressions as dull as a backwards b.
Eye see you lying there with a chalk line halo without a means to say hello.
Eye see you dying there.

©2004 Dal.

Ghost [Older Poem]

2008-07-12T21:18:00.000-07:00

*Ghost*

Soldiers clamber and fight thier way up the valley, wielding their lifeblood like swords of passion.
All of them vy for the heart of one.
A mystic fortress awaits them in the distance tempting their fortitude
and tugging at the essence of power.
I await their arrival
longing for any one of them to rescue me from this cavern of
evolutionary splendor.
Only one prevails
in the fight for life.
My shivering hero appears in the night
whose mere presence emits white light
We now hold hands, clutching the tendrils of love and intertwining
our dreams.
We are one.
Living within the walls of moving hunger,
my inner self murmurs and kicks outwards to hit the temple.
‘Can you feel my movements and jabs of self-preservation
which let the world I am
alive’?
I am alone within my own thought
for my knight has faded into obscurity and no longer calls.
My mother no longer remembers the romance and chivalry of love
only physical yearnings of skin and meat.
My eyes do not see the truth yet
but shall soon feel the consequences of stubborn ways.
While I sleep, my veins fill with bitter poison which leaks
into the core of my being,
whose source is not known.
My opaque limbs are numb of all feelings and now
float at my sides in this world of blood satin.
I survived the first attempt.
A sliver of steel grazes across my legs
with the oppressors hand now visible
slicing at me through the darkness.
Slits now permeate with the skill of a lawnmower,
leaving me as merely a shell of my former self.
What have I done?
I survived the second attempt.
Days pass while I heal from my wounds which feel
like the proverbial salt has been rubbed into them.
Engulfed with pain yet brimming with love
I am saddened by the actions of the world.
Unrepentive hate sickens me.
I will brace myself and crouch
within the confines of myspace
never to venture out until the time is right.
My loins are cold and weak
I cry out with all of my might
to anyone who hears me.
An aura of flowing whispers pervades my ears
ringing with security.
With swift strikes I now see the flashing sheen of titanium
coming towards me.
‘This is taking too long
get this THING out of me!’
‘We will try one last method.’
‘What are you going to do with those scissors?’
‘The blades of the surgical scissors will penetrate the skull
with enough force to crush membranes
shattering the brain stem
resulting in instantaneous death.’
The child is pulled free
from its embryonic cage.
It is nothing but a memory
a reminisce of the past.
‘I am finished
you can open your eyes now.’
There is nothing left but a life left baby
Still born
Aborted
Ghost.

©2004 Dal.

Note: This is an older poem finally retrieved and typed up for display..thanks!

Puddleglum [Poem]

2008-07-11T14:59:00.000-07:00

-Puddleglum-

Peek into the water of my eyes.
Leaking tears are caught by surprise
as they scurry from my tongue.
I am rippling with emotion
while waving at you from deep within.
My face is a puddle of self-worth yet
I manage to stand still.
Throw a stone into the depths of my chest
to see an ice cube melt
from the inside out.
You will see a transformation of passion
and shall long
to be a ripple.
There are no free feelings here
only those which saturate my mouth.
I could spit and drown the world
with my liquid emotion
choking back tidal waves of lust and omnipresent
sadness.
Walk along my memory banks and trace
your finger along my boundaries.
Wondrous feelings wanting to be kindred with reality
lay on my beaches
in the form of
dead whales.
Cleanse my mind and release the whales
back from whence they came.
Have you ever witnessed such a dream?
A
puddle.

©2004 Dal.

Ode To Raven Hair [Revamped]

2008-06-13T23:22:00.000-07:00

~Ode To Raven Hair~

Whispering across your face
like so many wind torn sails.
Each follicle waves
forlorn in the darkest of seas
Swallowed up by such torrents
lips, teeth, and tongue float
as mere castaways on the isle
that is your alabaster skin.
Glimmering in the sun
like abysmal strands of
piano keys in consortion
between enamel and epidermis
exists
your raven hair.
Wrapping itself like silk around
a milky Fabergé' egg
cradled in midnight.
I long for it yet loath it.
Yearning to caress and finger
rubbing the surface like rare
Moroccan looseleaf.
Lusting after your hair more than
Caligula's passion for power
I cry in awe
of its splendor.
I wish to breathe in and inhale
the very morning dew that precipitates
from the midsummer night sky
you call
hair.
When you lie beside me
I crawl towards your light
like a newborn fennel fox,
comforted by darkness yet
needing enlightenment.
From within your folds I cry out
not in pain
but because I love you.
I love everything about you
the way your hip bone compliments
your tender stomach
with gazelle legs that wrap themselves
around my frame so nicely.
Round cutesie breasts with supple aureoles whose
nipples pray to the ceiling.
Most of all
more cherished than life
your
raven
hair.

Untitled [Poem]

2008-05-15T11:58:00.000-07:00

**********************
Untitled.

A face racked by sleep,
with red eyes bulging like pimp wallets,
stares.
Frenzied screeching creeps through every nook and cranny of the alarm clock nearby.
it's time to get up and for her to get out,
of his everything.
With knees and heart broken, a forlorn shadow stumbles into the
realization that he slept in the wet spot,
a chasm deeper than sleep whose surface ripples with shallow lies..
Drunk with sex, the protagonist riffles through his memories and remembers,
pills.
Toes stub and breath leaks from narrow nostrils as his zombified wooden legs trudge into the restroom
His spider cracked mirror glares back and laughs,
like the child with no friends and plenty of jokes.
Tepid fingers trace her frame along the counter, among the remnants of soapy caresses,
wet with rose petals and dirty rings.
Fumbling for the medicine cabinet, he sees his prize,
her eyes,
crushed like so many Vicodin,
look back through the prescription label.

'Take One Tablet Every Four To Six Hours As Needed For Pain'

Swallow.
.......
Her.
.......
Gone.

©Dal.2008

*******************************

Poetential: Subsided

2008-05-15T11:56:00.000-07:00

Poetential: Subsided

Slit my eyelids and release the butterflies of chance.
Allow the Monarchs, with thier spectacled backs,
passage into the future while peeking back at the past.
The butterflies,
with thier every rise and fall in the winds of change,
flicker like so many ideas stuck in the bug zapper of life.
Dead at Will.
I no onger hear the scurrying of feeble minded mice within
my synapses, as thier cheese rots and decays while
falling into obscurity within the folds of my clothes,
The skin that once grew over my mistakes and scarred
these calloused hands, now flakes and crumbles like
a twinkie long forgotten.
Blood curdles around my bones, whose ceramic tile
complexion, glides between my muscles,
Poking through thier cottage cheese cage of fallen
cell mates.
Strong calcite that once held me wretchedly above
the ground now cackles and cracks against the burden of
my self pity, and simply shatters on the floor.
A china doll exposed.
My arms, the wooden planks on which many an embrace
would walk, now bend and warp into an unsightly picture.
Gheezus!
When will this stop.
Globs of candle wax flush through my ears drowning out
the death rattle that was born of a thousand suns.
Each moment hobbles my broken neck,
causing me to crane my head away from the heat
that permeates through my pores.
Follicles of hair singe from the scalding euphoria ebbing
underneath the jealousy for you,
the average man.
©Dal.2008

Artist Spotlight: BlackStar w/ [Video]

2008-04-05T00:30:00.000-07:00

Black Star is the self-titled debut by the pairing of rappers Talib Kweli and Mos Def from the group of the same name Black Star. It is sometimes listed as Mos Def and Talib Kweli are Black Star. The album was released on August 26, 1998 to mass critical acclaim. The title is a reference to a shipping line founded by Pan-Africanist Marcus Garvey. Black Star deals with modern day issues, ideas, and life in Brooklyn, New York City as the two artists know it.

Overview

The album's fruition came about from the chemistry between the two emcees. Both planned to release their solo albums around the same time, but postponed their individual projects and decided instead to collaborate on a full-length LP.

The late jazz musician, Weldon Irvine, played the keys on the album's opening song, "Astronomy". The song interprets the word "black" in a positive way and contains similes such as, "Black like my baby girl's stare".

The next song, and first single, "Definition", is a stern response to "hip hop's fascination with death", and a dedication to slain rappers Tupac Shakur, and Biggie Smalls. As the chorus goes:

One two three / Mos Def and Talib Kweli / We came to rock it on to the tip-top / Best alliance in hip-hop, Y-O / I said one two three / It's kind of dangerous to be an emcee / They shot Tupac and Biggie / Too much violence in hip-hop, Y-O

The chorus is also a play on Boogie Down Productions' anti-gun song "Stop the Violence". "Children's Story" is a re-imagined version of Slick Rick's original, with Mos Def cautioning against overly materialistic pursuits.

"Brown Skin Lady" is an affectionate tribute to brown-skinned women. The song encourages black and brown women to be proud of their hair and complexion, and to not be influenced by Western and white supremacist beauty standards. Kweli says: "...We're not dealin' with the European standard of beauty tonight / Turn off the TV and put the magazine away / In the mirror tell me what you see / See the evidence of divine presence."

The centerpiece of the album, "Thieves In The Night", was inspired by author Toni Morrison's novel The Bluest Eye. In the album's liner notes, Kweli explains that the paragraph "struck me as one of the truest critiques of our society, and I read that in high school, when I was 15 years old. I think it is especially true in the world of hip hop, because we get blinded by these illusions." The excerpt interpolated in the song is as follows:

And fantasy it was, for we were not strong, only aggressive; we were not free, merely licensed; we were not compassionate, we were polite; not good, but well behaved. We courted death in order to call ourselves brave, and hid like thieves from life.

And the version on the track:

not strong, only aggressive/ not free, we only licensed/ not compassionate, only polite (now who the nicest?) / not good but well-behaved/ chasin' after death so we could call ourselves brave, still livin' like mental slaves/ hiding like thieves in the night from life/ illusions of oasis making you look twice.

The album's cover was designed by artist Brent Rollins.

Source: Wiki/Youtube

What is the Deaf Community?: FAQ Answered by Me.

2008-04-04T14:30:00.000-07:00

Article: What is the Deaf Community?

1. How would you distinguish between Clinical-Pathological and Cultural views of deafness?

The Clinical-Pathological view focuses on a person’s inability to hear, and sees thier condition as a ‘defect’ or something that has to be ‘fixed’. This viewpoint gives precedence to oralism and to making the ‘affected’ person as ‘normal’ as possible. The Clinical-Pathological viewpoint also negatively shed light on the differences between communication between the deaf and hearing communities.

The Cultural view of deafness does not focus on the audiological defficiency, but on how the Deaf individual flourishes within the Deaf community, using ASL as thier primary means of communication. This view also emphasizes involvement in the Deaf community, including events, meetings, and everything that the Deaf Culture has to offer.

2. What is attitude?

Attitude is, within the context of the Deaf Community, a person’s willingness to accept all available facets of the Deaf Community and be involved in Deaf Culture as much as possible. An individual should show ambition and a penchant for learning as much as they can about Deaf Society, get immersed within the many activities offered, express good communication sklls and have working knowledge of the language.

3. Why do you think that attitude is the most important factor to the deaf community?

Attitude is such an important factor to the deaf community, because without having a positive outlook and an ambitious attitude while wading through the Deaf-World, one can become lost and unaware. The Deaf Community is so close-knit that one cultural wrench in the community affects everyone. No one person is more important than anyone else, and if a person is unwilling to participate or has negativity in mind, they are most often put to the sidelines.

4. What is the difference between attitudinal deafness and audiometric deafness?

Attitudinal deafness is when a member of society, identifies themselves with the Deaf community and supports the ideals and values of said community, without regard to degree of hearing loss, or any other factors that may influence thier decision.

Audiometric deafness is the identification of actual degree of hearing loss in a person without regard to the cultural aspects of the Deaf community and its members.

5. As Deaf people have a variety of communication modes, who would be on the fringe of the Deaf community?

The citizenson the fringe of the Deaf community would be those individuals who recognize, possess and identify with most of the avenues into the community, or only a few but have strong attitudes. For example, a sign language interpreter would be most involved in the Linguistic, and Socio-Political avenues into the Deaf community but yet still sit on the fringe because of thier lack in the Audiologic portion of said spectrum. Since a hearing person can never, and will never know or experience what it is truly like to be deaf, they can become involved in and support the other avenues with strong values and a great attitude, based on thier skill level and compitence, but can not be easily accepted into the Core. There are those who jump between the Core, and throughout the rest of the spectrum, whose efficiency and acceptance into the Core is based on thier background i.e. Deaf parents, linguistic prowess, and a fluent understanding of Deaf Culture, i.e CODA’s.

6. List 4 avenues to membership in the Deaf community and expand your definition of all the four avenues of each. How can “attitude” impact on each of the four avenues?

Audiological: this avenue refers to the actual loss of hearing ability. Those with some semblance of hearing loss are accepted more wholeheartedly and quicker than say, a hearing person with like skills, or experience.

Attitude impacts the audiological avenue because without acceptance and understanding of those with some degree of hearing loss, than you would, in effect be shunning the very community that you want to be a part of. Acceptance of differences, whether they be hearing loss, or skin color, is a most important factor that one must recognize and realize when dealing with others, and the way in which you express yourself to others is important.

Political: this avenue alludes to a person’s potential ability to impose a certain influence on, or become a proponent for issues that directly affect the Deaf community and its many members.

Attitude impacts the Political avenue because without knowing about or even supporting local causes, not necessarily on a national level even, than you will not be proficient in being able to discuss or have knowledge in the problems affecting the community with which you want to become involved. If you have a nonchalant attitude towards the political issues affectng the Deaf community, than you will not necessarily be a very well rounded candidate for inclusion.

Linguistic: this avenue refers to one’s ability and profficiency in using American Sign Language and understanding it’s purpose in relation to the Deaf community. An individual’s fluency is a determining factor in thier acceptance in the community, based on shared values and belief systems which are most important.

Attitude impacts the Linguistic avenue because if a person has no true ambiton towards being exposed to or learning the language, than there will be a lack of communication and since this one of the most, if not the MOST important facet of the community there will be a huge barrier to overcome. There are many ways in which a person can overcome the language barrier, but without a decent skill level nor a great willingness, one cannot be easily accepted into the Deaf community.

Social: this avenue involves the ability to participate in social functions in the Deaf community, in a manner that expresses positivity and ambition. This concept involves being invited to, and attending deaf events with an open mind, having deaf friends, and a good attitude are most definetly a plus!

Attitude impacts the Social avenue because if someone wishes to gain access to the Deaf community than they have to be SOCIAL. The social concept in the spectrum of avenues is of utmost importance becaue without knowing the members OF the community and involving yourself within the activities in which many relationships are honed and gained, than one cannot thrive. one learns many things by scoialization, including history, culture, more of the language, and belief/value systems, and without a great attitude and want to participate, a person cannot be a viable member of deaf society.

7. Why do you think that Deaf people are reserved in sharing their ASL outside of the Deaf community?

Deaf people are reserved in sharing thier language [ASL] outside of the Deaf community, frankly because thier language is the only truly sacred entity they have that is truly ‘THIER’s’, and since there has a been prevalence of outisders i.e hearing, overtaking many facets of thier lives, some feel why share?

The above questions were based on an assignment in my Intro to Deaf Communities Class, and also gleaned from the book, "A Journey into the Deaf- World." I hope you get some great information from my work, and understand that these are answered from my own experience, along with the information gathered from the text included above.

Untitled: Video Poem [Lyrickings Exclusive]

2008-03-30T11:58:00.000-07:00

This is an exclusive poem I performed for the website LyricKings.com! It's un rehearsed right off the brain type shit, and I hope you view and enjoy. Please let me know what you think. Peace and poetry!

Lost and Found: Video Poem [Blogger/Youtube Exclusive]

2008-03-26T02:16:00.000-07:00

I know most of you may have already read my poem entitled, "Lost and Found", and if not..here it is in video form. I know it's not perfect..but nevertheless I hope you enjoy and take something away from it. This was written during a time where i struggled with where I was heading in life..and where I am now. Thank You so much for watching and reading. Appreciate it. Comment n let me know what you think. Peace and Love.

Welcome To Meaty's World: Video [MTV Cribs Watch Out!]

2008-03-26T00:50:00.000-07:00

Originally aired on Youtube. I felt that I shouldn't be greedy with such a grandious lifestyle that I live in, and so here is my world for you to enjoy!.. Thank You so Much for coming through to travel into my mind and home.. Holla LyricKings.com!!

Aloe Blacc: Artist Spotlight

2008-03-23T18:51:00.000-07:00

Aloe Blacc

Download "Im Beautiful" [My Favorite Track of off Aloe's album Shine Through]

So Cal native Aloe Blacc began his recording career as an MC back in 1995, when he joined up with hip-hop producer Exile to form the mainstay indie rap group, Emanon. A few years later, Aloe would stow away on a Lootpack European tour and become fast friends with Oh No a relationship which led to many fruitful collaborations as a solo artist.

These days, Aloe Blacc has evolved into a true Renaissance man dubbed the indie R. Kelly by online retailer Turntable Lab. Recordings like his Latin cover of John Legends Ordinary People prove that not only can this multi-instrumentalist produce, rap and sing but he can flip it in Spanish, too. With an amazingly broad set of influences ranging widely from the acoustic guitar stylings of folk artist Cat Stevens, to the soul-stirring sounds of the Negro Spirituals, Aloe prides himself on the spectrum of his musical roots. His sound often forays into the digital R&B realm, but always grooves with a tinge of Latin and the pulse of hip-hop.

Distant Friends: Immigration Opinion

2008-03-23T17:53:00.000-07:00

La Migra is a term or phrase that causes many immigrants, specifically mexicans and latinos, to open thier eyes wide with abandon. I believe that immigrants contribute to our economy, are valid individuals, and we would not enjoy a lot of our frivolties without them. We can learn a great deal from migrant cultures and do as they have done, adapt to change and be accepting of where they came from.

Opportunity is a modern day fantasy that most if not all of the migrants to this country die willingly for each day, with thier families entire fortunes in the grasp of a greedy vagrant upon which they rely. Much like our own social leaders, these coyotes, as they are called in Mexico and abroad, trick poor immigrants into believing that the U.S holds a better life, and for a few dollars they can live thier dream. When the migrants arrive here, they struggle to eek out a living by working off the books in warehouses, fields, and as lowly housekeepers. Believe it or not, these people are what made our economy what it is today, and keep on doing so in the back rooms and underneath the blazing sun for less than a couple of dollars. The east coast has been home to many economic contributors such as Puerto Rican garment workers, Mexican mushroom pickers, and intelligent Costa Ricans. The Northwest has fathered many prominant Chicano writers such as Pablo Neruda, and Octavio Paz. Southern contributors have been back-breaking Caribbean sugar-cane workers, and the flavorful Cuban musicians and cultural innovators that we seldom see. Migrants do the jobs that the average American would never do, and they risk all they have to travel back and forth between thier families and work. What ever happened to the magical pass that we used to call the work visa?

Look into the eyes of any common person that walks along the city streets, and you will be staring into the face of an immigrant, or a descendant of an immigrant. This country was founded on letting people come to seek refuge within the gentle arms of our shores, and the calming breath of our lights apon thier lungs. Now we live in fear of the unknown, and never want to publically admit that we are essentially a poor country with new clothes. We hide behind the skirts of weapons and politics to emulate our power, but yet cannot use these same qualities to protect the migrants among us. It’s almost like we are clean children, who don’t want to play with the muddy kids that live on Pain and Poverty Blvd. There is a fair chance that our own children have been playing with one of these “dirty” kids all along, but in thier innocence choose to overlook that fact. More people need to look around for an opportunity to help anyone and everyone that needs a hand. Migrants of latino descent are not just selling tacos, or washing windows anymore, but owning restaurants and cleaning up the drug-infused streets. The mexican government is even aiding us with our own drug problems, and attempting to stop drug trafficing into the good ol’ U.S. Setting up a lawn chair in the desert isn’t going to stop immigration, but will merely slow down the inevitable. We don’t have the right to stop the future.

Here in the States, there are many things for which we can thank migrants for, such as popular sports, poetry, and popular music. These frivolties are sometimes taken for granted, and aren’t dually noted in the annals of everyday life. Football as we know it, was adapted by the Incas, transformed into Fu’tbol and than later into the N.F.L that we spend so much money on each year. Pablo Neruda, one of the most revered Chilean-borm poets of modern times, composed one of the most recognized love sonnets. The sonnet, “XVII (I do not love you...)” was popularized in the motion picture, Patch Adams, and in its simplicity adorns the soul. Here is an excerpt from that selection: “.....so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. “ With the heart and honor of thier prospective countries coarsing through our veins, its no surprise that many Latin-Americans have captured music’s simplicity as well. Celia Cruz, Enrique Iglesias, and Jennifer Lopez have now become synonomous with Tina Turner, Eminem, and Ray Charles. Genre benders like Selena have stepped over the line of indifference, into cross-over sensationalism. Next time you channel-surf, read, or shake your butt, think of migrants.

Latino migrants, along with the constant flow of other ethnic immigrants each hour, day and year, are now being recognized for thier accomplishments and being introduced to the world anew. Without them, we would not appreciate what we have, and what we are able to accomplish when we work together, not apart. Walk with me in the streets, or stare longingly into the sky, and you shall see that migrant or not, our skin scalds the same.

@@Enter The Dalurism@@

Park [A Poem]

Love [A Short Poem]

Untitled [Quick Prose]

=$ummer’s Time= [Rough]: Lyrics

A Poet's Exodus: A Tucson Hello's Goodbye.

Honest Intentions: A Dal. & CheBro Poetry Collaboration.

Face The Book: Best Of Facebook Poems. [Dal.11']

Face The Book: Best Of Facebook Poems. [Dal.11'] 2

Face The Book: Best Of Facebook Poems. [Dal.11'] 3

[Untitled] A Poem

Face The Book: Best Of Facebook Poems. [Dal.11'] 4

[Untitled Prose] Ayo..

Face The Book: Best Of Facebook Poems. [Dal.11'] 5

Face The Book: Best Of Facebook Poems. [Dal.11'] 6

"I L..ike You" A Poem.

El Amoroso: A Love Poem

DJ Quik & Kurupt: Hey Playa! [Moroccan Blues]

Goodbye My Almost Lover: A Fine Frenzy

Flying Lotus: FuckYaMindUpMusic

Untitled: Masterpeace

The Genius Child: Ode to Basquiat

Oh No: Bang Ya Head III: Mixtape Mixed By DJ Rhettmatic

Broke Beat: A Love Song.

√Dueces√ Chris Brown & Tyga Feat. Kevin McCall

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You

=Atmosphere: The Woman With The Tatooed Hands=

Been A Long Time..But Fresh Perspective= Refreshing Music

Relation Ship [A Poem By Me]

I Walked By [Poem By Me]

Zion I and The Grough: [Video] "10 fingers 10 toes 10 pounds 10 oz"

Artist Show Case: Blu and Exile

In Lubb!!

Who Dee Who [Poem by Me]

Atmosphere: Happymess [Video/Lyrics]

Pablo Neruda: 'Tonight I Write..' [Poem]

TOOL: Stinkfist [Video/Lyrics]

Big Tuck Featuring Sleepy Lee: Bottom B!tch

Let It Enfold You: Charles Bukowski [Poem]

Aesop Rock: Water [Video]

Interview Excerpt: Madlib in The Wire

Madlib interview in The Wire

Happy 27th Birthday To ME!!

Youngblood Brass Band [Artist Spotlight]

"Pelo Muerto" [New Poem by Dal.]

Camp Lo: Real HipHop [Uptown Saturday Night]

Artist Spotlight: Zezäo

Artist:Zezâo [PSYCHODELIC'S 2008 Series]

MURS: Break Up (The OJ Song) [Video]

The Desperate Ones: Nina Simone [Song/Video[

"Skeleton Day" © 2009

"Metaphors to Microphones": Essay By Luis I. Bobadilla

Mayer Hawthorne: I Wish It Would Rain

Break Yo' Neck!!! [ASL Video]

RoC 'C': "My Life" Feat.. Aloe Blacc, Produced and Directed by Oh No

The Grouch: "Breathe" [VIDEO Premiere]

Mayer Hawthorne & The County [New Stones Throw Artist!!!]

Introducing: Mayer Hawthorne & The County

Gravity: John Mayer [Video/Lyrics]

Pigeon John: Dropping Some Ill Shit

Sonnet XVII: [Pablo Neruda]

Sonnet XVII

The Panther [By Rainer Maria Rilke]

Count Bass D: Robbed Without A Pistol!!

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Count Bass D - Robbed Without A Pistol (2008)

Don't Let Anything Defeat You! [Video]

-Poetential [Writer Photo Series]-

The Time Has Come..

My Identity Must Be Kept Secret!

Leave Me to My Work!

Eye Will Conquer..

**Vessel** [One of my Fav. Older Poems]

[ASL Sign Song:] KJ- Eminem/Superman

Ode to Little Feet [New Poem]

Dal. Open Mic Poetry [Videos Circa' 2006]

[Artist Spotlight]: Sharlok Poems!

Float [New Poem]

Cardbored Box [Poem]

Quasi-Haiku Series [Poems..Duh]

Vessel [One of my Fav. Older Poems]

Ghost [Older Poem]