sweet sticky

Lying on my back, with mackin’ on my lap, staring at the crackin’ in the ceiling. Waiting for the word to come down. It could be days before the drought is over. I wish i could go sit and smoke a blizz with you in the meantime. In between transmissions from the Lord i think you could help me clear my mind. You would go so good with a puff and a pass. I’m finna forfeit my lent vows to get you hotboxed, and perhaps relapse after 60 days sober.

I’d love to try to change your mind. but the herb don’t change the mind no way. It can only more or less fuel the illusion that the tension is broken between us. Let this plant ease you from feeling you gotta ward off my manhood; and let it stop me from fearin’ your power to choose. You can read my palms, and sense that my touch carries both his mess and her caress. My air forces repressed muscle memory into your hips and you are torn between a shudder and a sigh of relief. The both of us, caught between a fear and a fetish; an attraction and an addiction, cannot deny it any longer. I wanna smoke with you, you wanna smoke with me.

“if i could slow you down sometime, i’d love to try to change your mind.”

skeptics are the real swing vote in 2008

This is not one of those articles that will help you decide between Barrack and Hillary. On the other hand I hope it will speak to a very important debate that is going on below the radar of mainstream political discourse. This post goes out to those of us debating whether or not we should be voting AT ALL in this corrupt ass electoral system. We would much rather just be civilly disobedient and stay at home on all of these Super Duper Whopper Tuesdays. We are the skeptics, the cynics, those who have long given up on the possibility of salvaging this government. The country says “Presidential Primary.” We say, “blah blah blah.” We are the invisible minority not showing up in the Gallup Polls, because when they hound us with surveys we sneer and slam down the phone in frustration.

the class of 2012

We grew up in a warzone. The war on drugs and the war on terror. It was too dangerous outdoors so we played inside, in front of the big screen. Ironically, there were 1000 times as many violent deaths on the telly than there were outside. Thanks to 24-hour marathons of Law and Order, twenty-four people were murked in our living rooms every day. When we weren’t eye-witnessing a shoot-em-up, we were watching corporate warfare. The networks battled for our attention so that they could distribute Power Wheels, Beenie Babies and Fruity Pebbles. We didn’t choose between them. We bought all three. The first Jordans came out before we was born, but that didn’t stop us from buying them when the retros re-released. We laced them