| Author | Topic: Rebel, Post The Last Piece Of Writing You Wrote |
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Location: Fuck some damn dumminoes |  posted Monday, June 18, 2012 4:04:00 PM 
non-poetryPartial IP: 04.220.134 |
Total Posts: 1383
Member Since: 2012
Location: Hey Huni huni! How was your daddy condition? Did he getting better now? :) | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 4:06:56 PM
Wiggers and Wnnabes: White Ethnicity in Contemporary Youth Culture
by
Josh ******
I approached the club from a narrow shadow of old London town. Got there down stairs solo head low in the sparse crowd beats loud and heavy bass fills the place with sub aqua gravity echoing our heart beats inside my lung cavity the DJ's dope slipping eternal hope between revolving globes and cosmic space in a trans continental inter planetary embrace.
The jam changed tack. Trinian poet Roger Robinson took the stage with a double bass player. He was singing the blues in a jazz style. Poetry in effect. "I wrote this poem after I heard two girls talking on the tube about whether UB40 invented reggae. I was vexed, so I went home and wrote this poem. It's called The Music Man."
The bass tumbled down from the stage enfolding our expectance with rapture. Roger Robinson set off on a lyrical storm that rained passion and anger on the appropriation of black musical forms by white musicians. Four verses with three choruses to separate:
UB40/UB40 what the hell you know about reggae music?
Simply Reel/Simply Red what the hell you know about soul
music?
Harry Connick/Harry Connick what the hell you know about
jazz music?
The poet rode waves that peaked on accusation and explanation:
you weren't there when whips cracked the backs
I was there I didn't see you
The crowd was shouting back to Roger as he voiced its feeling, gave air to black peoples' grievance at the commercial success of white bands imitating black bands. "The Music Man" continued. Locating himself as the heir to a culture formed from the experiences of Afrikans in enslavement. Black music is his birthright and we white people who play this music and sell it out by selling it off in watered down forms were being called to task. He said that he was there on the slave ships, that he had sung the songs of slaves, that he was those people and they were him, in him now, calling his poem, inflecting his voice with its Trinian accent, fuelling that fire that gave birth to his passion. The last verse fell off of a crescendo and he slowed down easing us to the close:
i am the music man/ i am the music man/i am the music man
and you're a t'ief.
He left the stage to acclaim from his peers. The MC came on and all he said was "Yo Red," which was my poetry call sign. Speaking to me in poetry. The whole poem was addressed to white people working with black forms. People like me. In fact, the poem was addressed directly to me. I stood there dealing with my feelings of disorientation. I was being called out, again. Twice in one night. Something was happening. Something I couldn't deny. A challenge to what I was doing surrounding myself with the signs of black cultural forms.
First I was defensive. But I live in Peckham. I've been down for time listening to this music. No one owns culture, anyway. It's all shared and made out of mixes. Music is everywhere. UB40 are half black. No one calls black people thieves for playing classical music. I felt threatened. The way I constructed my sense of self was being attacked. The character I was writing for myself was being called a fake. People were saying I was faking the funk. A wannabe black man. What they were calling back then a wigger. What Norman Mailer called a white negro.
When I looked around I could see that the white and black neighbourhoods were clear about their territories. The whites class had their culture. The blacks had their culture, and more than us because we were the home culture. But we influence through creative forms and the eternal rhythms of Afrika calling us in black music. The blacks were working-class too, but not white working-class, though some of them had taken on that culture. I knew a black cockney who drank in a pub round the corner who flew the union jack and was proud of it. Me and him had a lot more in common than just a taste for a lager. we shared space in the neighbourhood. Shared British identity. We also shared a duplicity of identities, black with white culture, white with black culture. It's the mix the city breathes. In the air itself between all the city dwellers. Inescapable, or so it seemed to me back then.
In Jacques Lacan's theory of identity the mirror stage comes at the end of omnipotence. It is a traumatic passage into individual identity, into consciousness of self. Lacan locates the beginning of identity at the point where we realise we and the world around us are divided by space. He relates the experience to that of an infant recognising itself in a mirror. This consciousness of internal and external, of private and public space, is the source of self-identity for Lacan. The process of identification is how we learn to define ourselves in relation to the environment around us. The end of infantile omnipotence heralds the period when we begin to interact with our surroundings and integrate them into our identities. Our means of expression are formed in a dialogue between our existing characteristics and those we are experiencing around us.
Definitions of authenticity are very difficult to pin down. Absolute terms are often used within debates over essentialism and notions of purity, but are difficult to justify within the conditions of a mixed society. When I was accused of fakery and thievery the accusers were confident in their position. Calling me a thief can be interpreted in relation to a call for reparations. A call for the paying of dues long overdue. In the context of a continuing colonial exploitation of other nations by the West the appropriation of black music for mass financial commodification is another form of colonial rip off. For me to be a thief I have to take someone's property without asking, and the conditions by which my black cultural identity was formed do not constitute thievery. The concept of thievery is dependant on stealing, and becomes untenable when the artefacts are openly for sale and are being purchased. The real issue is over the currency with which the culture is purchased. It is not enough for white people to exchange money for a black cultural identity. Money is controlled by international capitalism and is not an appropriate currency to exchange for the riches of black culture. the effects of commodification are too water down the essence of cultures that have not been formed for commercial purposes, but have rather been integrated into peoples everyday struggle for survival in market-led societies. A more appropriate currency is the currency of dues.
The delusional fantasies of my colonial omnipotence facilitated the maintenance of my black cultural identity. My black ego ideal. This ego ideal functioned to inform my self identity with a sense of ethnicity. A sense of cultural self. I drew this sense from black culture because I did not have an ethnicity of white culture to draw upon in my peer group. It wasn't that we weren't white, it was that white cultural consciousness is based on nationalism, jingoism and racism. The only people I knew who displayed a sense of white identity were skinhead gangsters who violated the Asian people in our area. I instinctively rejected their ideology and its little brother hooliganism. Alternatives to the skinheads were played out passe punks, and retro sixties types who erred between mods and hippies. My parents were old rock and rollers and I was not going near that. My Dad's count Basie collection was cool, but Basie was the black atomic, and that was my fetish. My Reality Avoidance System (RAS) that shrouded my sense of self from the realisation that I was a white person living with a chronic lack of self-identity.
The construction of white identities has been identified by several people as a result of an absence. Whiteness is seen as an absent centre. Pajacowska and Young (1990) suggest that the identity of white culture is absent in a political and subjective sense:
Within European history descriptions of whiteness are absent due to denial of imperialism, and this leaves a blank in the place of knowledge of the destructive effects of wielding power. An identity based on power never has to develop a sense of itself as responsible, it has no sense of its limits except as those are perceived in opposition to others.l
The absence is born of imperial power relations that privilege definitions of otherness over definitions of self. The self then acts as a universal assumption against which the other is supposedly defined. Whiteness then becomes an identity with the power to define the boundaries of others but not of its selves. In this way whiteness can be seen as a universal ethnicity against which all others are defined, but which remains undefined itself.
While we as white people still define ourselves through a universalist assumption, we are propagating the hierarchies of colonial culture because we are still acting as the subjects of colonialism. Developing colonial identities. In this way our involvement in culture is often structured by a continuing mythology of white constructed multi-culturalism which serves to appropriate and co-opt cultures into a controlling framework. This controlling framework serves to maintain the status quo of post-colonial racism in the west, which is a system of white supremacy.
White supremacy is based on the maintenance of colonial dominance, both financial and cultural. Dr Frances Cress Welsing has identified the root of white supremacy as the imagined need to maintain a pure blood line of white genetics. This genetic pool is threatened most by the potential of black men to father mixed black children to white mothers. Cress Welsing believes that racism (white supremacy) is the strategy used by the western system to control the black man and his threat to the supposed purity of white blood.
Cress theory, as it has become known, illustrates the depth of lack that is apparent in whiteness once we begin to examine it. This lack is a big secret. We are not taught any of this in our education system. Our systems of colonial omnipotence maintain the illusion of white universalism to veil the fact that white people in the west are not the elite people that colonialism created as the masters of demonised and subjugated colonial subjects. It has only been through a form of mirror stage and raised awareness of my position as a white man that I have learnt to conceive of the loss of white people who have been falsely termed an elite. The legacy of colonialism most often focuses on the loss of enslaved peoples, and the continuing ripple effect from the shock wave of colonial genocide. The loss of white people has been the fall from the human family. The colonial lie that white people are a global elite has not only ex-nominated us from a sense of self-identity in relation to other cultures, but has set us up in conflict with the rest of the human race. By defining ourselves and others as racial beings in different races we fracture the human family. There is only one race, the human race, and then comes the differences of skin colour, ethnicity and culture. we as white people are the global ethnic minority. The only people defined as being not of colour.
As a people ostracised from the rest of our race, we are living en masse in the alienated conditions of identification that Lacan theorises as a passage to self-identity. Many white people are stuck in this phase. Either creating delusional ideals to put off the advance of a traumatic mirror stage, or paralysed by the trauma of the mirrored alienation of the world. The absent centre of whiteness maintains its vacuous bubble at the heart of our self images.
The wigger strikes back, defending my position as a product of a multi cultural society. I was just reacting in kind to the world around me. Creating myself out of the mix of music and languages that circulates the M25 and swirls round London. The mirror man stands there shaking his head with anger. The bus man cuts his eyes and whispers with disdain that I am not watching MTV now. This is the street and bullshit stinks:
some people understand some people don't
some people keep it real some people won't
keep it real to my people on the street you see
understanding street knowledge was your only key2
The voices speak through speakers from far away studios and radio transmitters broadcasting one wave over an infinity of destinations. I tune in, turn on and get down. Dancing in the mirror in my room, rapping into my hair brush.
Real experiences of English teenagers: I had an Ice T poster with guns and a woman in a bikini. I had a KRS-one album cover, "By All Means Necessary" with KRS posing on the front looking out of his window with an Uzi, replicating the photograph of Malcolm X looking out of his window with a shotgun after death threats had been received by his family. I had hire purchase in my sister Jane's name on two turntables with which I kept the room rocking as I learnt to keep the beat flowing between two breaks, the way they started it way back in the Bronx. I had no homies, no posse, no freestyles on the mic, no mic, no brothers, no breakers. I had a Beastie Boys album and my memories of Public Enemy live at the Hammersmith Odeon 1987. Chuck D talking to the most hyped-up crowd I have ever seen:
There's been a lot of talk about Public Enemy, but I want to say in this house tonite we are all one family.
This was the heritage I brought to the mirror. My experiences of black culture over years of reception. While I had learned to become a sophisticated consumer of black culture I had not learned to be a sophisticated exponent of black culture, white culture, or the space between. I had developed a connoisseurs taste. It was a matter of importance among the wiggers to be into the most underground sounds, the purest, most authentic of cultures, because that was how we defined our own authenticity. The more real the culture, the more real we were.
I could model myself on the styles of rap album covers and rap video shoots in a one way dialogue with style. The photographs couldn't talk back and tell me I looked wac3. Only a live person could do that, and from my own condition of omnipotence I could not catch myself out. When I was brought into personal contact with black people I at first found either unexplained disdain or superficial, polite, friendliness. I returned the polite friendliness, being English, and being keen to have black friends to authenticate my involvement with black music and black music's involvement with my identity. I was collecting tokens of authenticity. Like a wardrobe, or a prized record collection. Back then I was DJing, People liked my sound. Danced to the tunes that I was spinning. That was all okay. it didn't draw direct criticism to me. When I became involved in a vocal culture the criticism became overt. My omnipotent identity was maintained by DJing and ended by poetry. While could support a black cultural identity as a DJ musician I could not support a black cultural identity as a poet rapper. Why are there so many white hip-hop DJs but so few white rappers?
John Trudell is a Native American activist and poet. I saw him speak these words on a CD ROM:
We live in a technological society that creates many illusions of reality, but they are only illusions We have a responsibility to life, reality is based on responsibility. I look at this technological society that we've been placed in and its the most irresponsible behaving entity that has ever lived on this planet. This civilisation is not about responsibility, it's about guilt, sin, blame and aggressive bad behaviour. This is that shadow world. That's the shadow. The real world is about fulfilling our responsibilities to life.
His definition of the illusions of reality, in which we interpret as our environment as the "shadow world," made me think of white hip-hop producer DJ Shadow. His album "Endtroducing" (1996) is sample based hip hop music mixed down into a spatial and minimalist sound, Most often these tracks are instrumental, reflecting the absence of white vocality in rap. DJ Shadow's album has sold well. He has been publicised by his record company as "the Jimi Hendrix or Jimmy Page of the sampler," For me the interesting aspect of his work lies in the white identity of the man himself as a practitioner of black music. By naming himself Shadow he is positioning himself as an unidentified silhouette, an inversion of his own body. The shadow is a blank outline of the original, cast by the light of the sun, The subsummation of an embodied identity to a shadow musical identity is especially interesting to me because Shadow is a white man, The creation of a Shadow alter ego is a way of dealing with the contradiction between the DJ's whiteness and the origins of his musical aesthetic. The shadow can be seen in relation to the cast of black music by which it is defined.
DJ culture offers a means by which white youths can redefine their identities and create subcultural enclaves from which to operate. In the hip-hop culture of white B-Boys it is DJing that is the most popular of the forms. Back in the past hip hop was a four legged organism. Breakdancing and graffiti which were popular in the mid-eighties have become marginalised. Rapping has never been a common practice among white people. DJing has become the dominant form. Recorded music offers its own authenticated sound of the real experience. Edinburgh-based DJ Yogi Haughton grounds the power of his DJing to the fact that he plays real black music. In an interview with DJ Magazine he asserts himself as a DJ who plays authentic "Black music":
What can we expect from you as DJ?
Yogi: "Real Black music."
Define Black music.
Yogi: "Black music is the real flava. It's the real jazz, real funk, real soul, real R&B, real swing, real garage...Black music has always been here and it always will be. Everything that these pop star pricks are playing in clubs comes from Black music."
But you're white?
Yogi: (laughing) "What the fuck has that got to do with it?"
Aren't you a bit too old for this?
Yogi: "Fuck off..."4
After defining himself as a "Black music" practitioner Yogi is then challenged to justify the authenticity of his "Black music" as a white man. He denies the relevance of the question and the interviewer changes the subject. Yogi seems to be asserting that "Black music" is an aesthetic which is defined by its "real flava" rather than by the identities of its practitioners. The music is seen to be mobile in being able to cross cultural boundaries and retain its "real flava". But if "Black music" is an aesthetic what makes it real? And while music is mobile, can people have the same mobility?
There is an imbalance between Yogi's assertions of the "Blackness" of the music he presents and his denial of the importance of race, or ethnicity, when it is applied to himself. It seems that while it is important to him to reference his musical taste within a racialised framework he does not apply the same frame to himself. The way that Yogi privileges colour in black culture but not in white identity illustrates the problem that we have in reconciling ourselves as white people to our identities as black cultural practitioners. The main strategy that white people employ is to deny the importance of colour in the construction of their self. We might say "what the fuck has that got to do with it" because this denial justifies the greater denial of our alienated whiteness.
In an interview with The Wire magazine DJ Shadow says, "I can't deny that I'm drawn, as I am in books, film, and paintings, to an 'alternative reality' type of theme". DJ Shadow creates his "alternative reality" in a soundtrack made out of seventies funk records inside nineties sampling technology. The soundtrack is the backing for the alternative life fantasy of blackness, as aesthetic. This fantasy can be created in music because of its mobile qualities, which can be used to express the psychic mobility of the self in negotiation with its local and mediated environment. In other words, the beats let us play role models of blackness that offer pleasure as a form of redefinition. This process of escape and redefinition is appealing to us as white people, who feel a lack of identity in the voices of the white mainstream when compared with the voices of marginalised groups. As Waiter Hughes put it:
Minority status can free us from being trapped in miserable white, straight, Christian enclaves, just as the disco beat compels us to contemplate new forms of social and personal integration5
Hughes tellingly pulls the dual mobilities of self and music together in his analysis of the motivation behind music led identifications in white peoples. The identity of white practitioner of black music constructs a whiteness based on this mobility of music to cross cultural divides. The work of DJ Shadow is non-vocal because spoken language locates the subject by accent, dialect and tempo. Instrumental music retains its universal de-location wherever its is played. In the white practitioner it also, crucially, retains its authentic black sound. The personal transcendence of cultural boundaries by white absentees parallels the quality of music itself to cross space and specific locations, bonding the floating white subject with a similarly mobile black music This is where the form becomes detached from the feeling. The feeling that created it, but also the feeling of reception which is defined through the mechanisms of otherness and denial rather than integrated into a coherent cultural self. We can buy the style, put on the CD as we put on the clothes, but the feeling is transmuted into imitative fashion. The fashions of hip-hop as appropriated by many peoples act as boundary crossings in which the identity of the cultural other is integrated as style. The style acts as a cloak to veil the transparency of absence, which is visible in the necessity of imitation and the lack of re-interpretation. The "real flava" of the music does not automatically manifest itself into the real experience of the listener. The real flava needs to feed from the voice of the listener, be that vocal, musical, physical.
Assertions of social reality work as a counterpoint to theoretical views of decentered subjectivity, and also to the challenge technology has made to the defining boundaries of reality and virtuality. John Trudell sees the illusory reality of technological society as a shadow world. A world of darkness in which the life light of responsibility is blocked out by the ideologies of our civilisation. Trudell speaks as a counter dominant voice from a position outside of the mainstream that is similar in its marginalisation to the positions of rappers. That both positions articulate definitions of reality that are rooted respectively in responsibility and lived experience marks them as different social codes to the western critical discourses of representation. In Trudell's model the freedom of intellectuals to make philosophical points can be tested by the responsibility of having to face their philosophy in socially challenging situations. In this way, reality is authenticated by the interaction of cerebral ideas and physical movements in a spiritual sphere. The shadow world is the territory where responsibility is detached from freedom of expression. That Trudell identifies this as a symptom of technological society relates this detachment to the detachment of sampled beats to their original creators and the detachment of black styles from their encoded social meanings. The lack of responsibility in white identities means that the freedom of choice to construct our own identities is also illusory. Freedom without responsibility is not freedom. It is mobility, but it is not emancipation. It is in this sense that the floating amorphism of the shadow worlds stalks the cultures of otherness in the construction of a definable self.
Last night was the spring equinox. I was in a club called Potent Funk. The flyer says: classic late night grooves. when we walked in they were playing Roy Ayers' "Don't Stop the Feeling". The atmosphere was like a party. I started dancing straight away while the people round me in the bar were chatting. Then the DJ played "Flashlight" by Parliament and I headed upstairs to the dancefloor. Three and a half hours later I was a sweat-drenched non- stop raver. Distinctly an individual and at the same time united with other people on the small dance floor. Then the DJ played James Brown's "Give It Up, Or Turn It Loose" as the last but one tune and slaughtered me. In the middle of the track there's a famous percussion section with Mr Brown chanting "clap ya hands stomp ya feet"; then the break kicks in and I was moved into oblivion by the call of the drummer's beat to Bootsey Collins' thunderous bass. If you know the tune, you know where I was at. Potent Funk. Potent-ial energy. A battery charge waiting to be plugged into a circuit board. When the connection is made the energy flows through the network amping all areas with the realised charge.
Earlier in the evening they had an open mic session for MCs and singers to jam with the DJs. Three rappers and one singer took the mic. The DJ played the instrumental of LL Cool J's "Doin' It" and Torro from Liverpool's O.I.C. crew started rapping. I was buzzing off of Torro's style. He has a fast delivery notable for its intensity, improvisory flair, and the distinct scouse tones of his voice. Much of the originality of Torro's style comes from the way he integrates his identities as a white man with his black form of rapping. I interviewed him once and he told me that at first people wanted to criticise him, but that if you are yourself, then you get respect.
Next to Torro was a man I'd never heard rap before. I'd seen him busting some Kid 'n' Play style moves on the dancefloor earlier. In my eyes he was turning out to be a bit of a star.
A little while after the open mic session had finished the Starman walked by me on the dancefloor. I stopped dancing and offered my respects for his contribution. He introduced himself as Melvin, and then immediately asked me to give him a topic. A hard topic. I thought for a bit and I remembered one of my friends' advice on how to research this dissertation. He told me to personally ask the people who were involved in the culture. So I gave Melvin the topic of white people's involvement in black music. Melvin nodded and said he'd do it, paused for a moment's thought and then began to flow. His freestyle was constant, strictly riding the beat, ordered into rhyming pairs. he continuously improvised on the topic of white people and black music. I can't remember all his lyrics, but I remember the parts about how white people are making money out of black music, how The Fugees are selling his blackness and it hurts, how hip-hop is his life, how people have to be true to their reality. He ended by saying as long as you're true he don't care if you're black white or blue...l said to Melvin thanks for the education, he bumped my fist and went back to his crew.
As we white people synthesise our self-identities with black cultures we are forming what can be seen as hybrids. New sets of identities that serve to redefine ourselves through a dialogue with black cultures. To define the quality of this dialogue it is necessary to understand what culture is. Culture is the connection that turns the potential energy into the kinetic, the movement that opens the heart to expression. My main argument is that the cultures of us white people who use black cultural forms do not function to open our hearts to expressions of ourselves. They lead us into delusional identities based on fantasy to maintain the projections of an absent cultural heart.
With a history of nationalist racism on the one hand and multi-culti liberalism on the other, the only frameworks on offer for white people to interpret our relationships with different cultures have been based on the aggression of bigotry or the paralysis of guilt. In advance of these positions I am seeking a strategy to integrate my given identities as a white European and an inheritor of the legacy of colonial dominance, with my found identities as a writer and poet working with a mix of white and black cultural forms.
The appropriation and imitation of black culture by white people changes the context of the culture and therefore its meaning. The absence of personal contextual links in the reception of global media commodities problematises the meaning of real experience. When these mediated cultures are internalised into identifications there are serious implications for the ability of that identification to nurture a balance between given and found identities in a person. The resulting cultural identities suffer from the post-modern malaise of meaninglessness. When both Torro and Melvin prioritised the quality of being true to yourself they were grounding themselves in lived experience. The functions of cultural identifications that are based on media projections rather than interpersonal experience are inherently under tension between the pulls of fantasy and reality. A cultural identity that does not balance lived and mediated experiences is not making the connections that facilitate representation, cannot generate meaning, and cannot contribute positively to the collective. It is on this basis that I am questioning the quality of white appropriation of black cultural forms, and the use of black culture as oppositional practice by white people.
What I have found from my own experience is that black culture can provide a critical reflexive view of whiteness that is lacking from our own perceptive framework of selfhood. This critical perspective helps to move through the omnipotence of dominant colonial identities and the traumatic confusion of the mirror stage, developing a cultural identity which nurtures my personal truth in dialogue with my collective. And that is potent culture.
So that was how it was in the Potent Funk. A white MC and a black MC working the mic with their freestyle lyrics. Bootsey Collins and the outernational vinyl funk. The sounds of Afrikan America grooving with the mixed British people in the crowd. A party vibe over the place that reminded me of house parties in London in the eighties, intimate and friendly with everyone going for it on the dancefloor. I stood under the disco lights confusing the forms all around as Steinski's "lesson three" ended with the famous question:
and think children, what does it all mean?
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Notes
1. Pajacowska, Claire and Young, Lola (1990), "The Absent Centre of Whiteness" in Donald, James and Rathansi, Ali Race Culture and Difference, Open University and Sage, Oxford.
2. Group Home (1997) "Some People..." Chrysalis, New York.
3. WAC: slang for "without merit"
4. DJ Magazine, issue
5. Hughes, Waiter (1994) "The Empire of the Beat" in Ross, A. and Rose, T. (eds)(l 994) Microphone Fiends: Youth Music and Youth Culture, Routledge, New York. p 152.
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Partial IP: 15.189.251 |
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Location: He wants to take the bar one day but he's too busy counting them | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 4:16:46 PM
holy fuck that was long op, no one is reading that shit:
As it stands, baring preoperative transgender inmates from the proper psychological therapy and sexual reassignment surgery violates their fundamental right to privacy as under the decision of Roe v. Wade. Further, interfering with a post-operative inmates ability to receive consistent hormonal therapy is a violation of the right to privacy under the Due Process clause of the 14th amendment as well as an implication of the 8th amendments protection against cruel and unusual punishment and deliberate denial of appropriate medical care.Partial IP: 184.253.25 |
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Location: Hey Huni huni! How was your daddy condition? Did he getting better now? :) | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 4:20:07 PM
synopsis: hey prisons, stop being mean to post-op trannys!Partial IP: 15.189.251 |
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Location: Fuck some damn dumminoes | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 4:23:25 PM
coolPartial IP: 04.220.134 |
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Location: He wants to take the bar one day but he's too busy counting them | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 4:27:00 PM
post and preoperative, you dick.
i wanted to post a poem up in here. but instead trev made me post a paragraph from my paper cause he's a dickPartial IP: 184.253.25 |
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Location: Fuck some damn dumminoes | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 4:30:11 PM
ok, post a poemPartial IP: 04.220.134 |
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Location: He wants to take the bar one day but he's too busy counting them | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 4:38:41 PM
for the house i build
for maya
i am sinking
into the river bank
i am perched on a river-washed
bench, the stream slips over sun-bleached stones
you are breathing the maples,
you are full of summer, the sun drowning
in every pore, we pretend the broad
leaves into stepping stones
I fall into the sharp crook
of your smile, like thread through
a needles eye, you bury
into my shoulder, your hair shrouds
me like a shadow.
---
i need help with this one cause it's the one i'm working onPartial IP: 184.253.25 |
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Location: Hey Huni huni! How was your daddy condition? Did he getting better now? :) | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 4:47:05 PM
rip maya angelou 1 lovePartial IP: 5.96.65.66 |
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Location: Hey Huni huni! How was your daddy condition? Did he getting better now? :) | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 4:47:45 PM
nvm she's not dead i coulda swo' she was dead my bPartial IP: 5.96.65.66 |
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Location: He wants to take the bar one day but he's too busy counting them | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 4:48:02 PM
maya angelou is so overratedPartial IP: 184.253.25 |
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Location: He wants to take the bar one day but he's too busy counting them | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 4:50:36 PM
 Partial IP: 184.253.25 |
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Location: Fuck some damn dumminoes | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 5:17:24 PM
what do you need help with? seems finished to me.. who's maya? i found it discomfiting, is that what you were going for?Partial IP: 04.220.134 |
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Location: He wants to take the bar one day but he's too busy counting them | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 5:23:45 PM
its as finished as finished can be without a real close reading. maya is a person who the poem is for.
so long as it's slightly uncomfortable and a bit awkward in feeling, then yes. i worry if you meant a bit embarrassing? then no.Partial IP: 184.253.25 |
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Location: Fuck some damn dumminoes | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 5:26:57 PM
not embarrassing but i dunno, defeated, helpless.. something like thatPartial IP: 04.220.134 |
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Location: Fuck some damn dumminoes | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 5:29:49 PM
anway, seems good to mePartial IP: 04.220.134 |
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Location: He wants to take the bar one day but he's too busy counting them | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 5:54:17 PM
Thx dude. I think im going to submit it to a journal with this poem about my brother and another one about beating your wife.Partial IP: .147.72.23 |
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Location: Hey Huni huni! How was your daddy condition? Did he getting better now? :) | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 6:06:44 PM
beating your wife is wonderful
beating your wife is fun
beating your wife is wonderful
now come on everyone
if she doth step out of line
dont give her a tap
hit her HARD with a closed hard fist,
but make sure the teeth'r intact.
- JoshPartial IP: 5.96.65.66 |
Total Posts: 1383
Member Since: 2012
Location: Hey Huni huni! How was your daddy condition? Did he getting better now? :) | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 6:10:23 PM
josh i like how you colloquialized "teeth" and "are" at the end of the second stanza. bravo.Partial IP: 5.96.65.66 |
Total Posts: 1669
Member Since: 2009
Location: in comes Phil Da Agony and his 5'1 | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 8:22:15 PM
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
you are breathing the maples,
Partial IP: 200.185.61 |
Total Posts: 1669
Member Since: 2009
Location: in comes Phil Da Agony and his 5'1 | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 8:23:06 PM
lol thanks for the hearty chuckle. it's so bad.Partial IP: 200.185.61 |
Total Posts: 152
Member Since: 2012
Location: You always reference that zoo shit from a pic I posted of me in Puerto Vallarta with tiger cubs. | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 8:28:28 PM
i liked it
dope read
Partial IP: 169.158.36 |
Total Posts: 1669
Member Since: 2009
Location: in comes Phil Da Agony and his 5'1 | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 8:30:22 PM
i loled so hard irlPartial IP: 200.185.61 |
Total Posts: 813
Member Since: 2012
Location: rancho cucamonga | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 8:36:17 PM
me like an elongated shadow.
on a lazy late summer afternoon
soon our orange n amber cascaded clouds
would turn purple
as a volatile ring of fire slowly buried itself under the fleeting horizon
cool breezes permeated the sweet scent of vanilla and coconut extracts from her luscious soft brown hair violently into my nostrils...
Partial IP: .45.210.12 |
Total Posts: 152
Member Since: 2012
Location: You always reference that zoo shit from a pic I posted of me in Puerto Vallarta with tiger cubs. | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 8:39:54 PM
i knew josh still wrote
evn tho hes a fgt i respect his writing
i read a wrap he poted on the gen board a few months ago and it was dope
shame on these other nobodies for making such a thing so taboo here
Partial IP: 169.158.36 |
Total Posts: 1669
Member Since: 2009
Location: in comes Phil Da Agony and his 5'1 | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 8:48:28 PM
i am climbing
into the highlands
i am pooping outdoors
legally, the forest floor glistens with wet pine needles
you are breathing my ass,
you are full of shit, the air seeping in your skin, we imagine the frogs are bubble wrap under our feet
I drift into your gravity,
like a magnet your,
fat ass pulls me in.
your genitalia buried with blubber,
your massive body blots out the sun.
-----
take notes.
Partial IP: 200.185.61 |
Total Posts: 152
Member Since: 2012
Location: You always reference that zoo shit from a pic I posted of me in Puerto Vallarta with tiger cubs. | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 8:50:23 PM
"DJ Shadow's album has sold well. He has been publicised by his record company as "the Jimi Hendrix or Jimmy Page of the sampler," For me the interesting aspect of his work lies in the white identity of the man himself as a practitioner of black music. By naming himself Shadow he is positioning himself as an unidentified silhouette, an inversion of his own body. The shadow is a blank outline of the original, cast by the light of the sun, The subsummation of an embodied identity to a shadow musical identity is especially interesting to me because Shadow is a white man, The creation of a Shadow alter ego is a way of dealing with the contradiction between the DJ's whiteness and the origins of his musical aesthetic. The shadow can be seen in relation to the cast of black music by which it is defined."
now THIS is comedyPartial IP: 169.158.36 |
Total Posts: 152
Member Since: 2012
Location: You always reference that zoo shit from a pic I posted of me in Puerto Vallarta with tiger cubs. | posted Monday, June 18, 2012 9:02:37 PM
im reading the 'paper' and its the lols
i don even kno where to sstart
i almost missed this opie
Partial IP: 169.158.36 |
Total Posts: 4060
Member Since: 2010
Location: Fuck some damn dumminoes | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 1:05:05 AM
flak, i'd be very surprised if rebel's poems don't get published. what the fuck do you know about poetry, bitch? and ya, i know that was the least threatening use of ", bitch?" ever.Partial IP: 04.220.134 |
Total Posts: 1669
Member Since: 2009
Location: in comes Phil Da Agony and his 5'1 | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 1:16:03 AM
lol.
i started writing poetry long before i wrote rap. i know what sounds good and what sounds gay like Walt Whitman. Walt Whitman was gay.Partial IP: 200.185.61 |
Total Posts: 4060
Member Since: 2010
Location: Fuck some damn dumminoes | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 3:03:07 AM
gonna go out on a limb here and say that you could never get anything published.Partial IP: 04.220.134 |
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Member Since: 2000
Location: I don't know if u got the memo, fuckboy season is over | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 3:04:13 AM 
josh rebel is a plagiarist
he never wrote that wigger essayPartial IP: 194.52.149 |
Total Posts: 1060
Member Since: 2012
Location: A pin cushion without pins is just a cushion bro.You calling me a cushion, bro? | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 3:39:09 AM
you don't like Walt Whitman?
you clearly have no taste.Partial IP: 174.22.153 |
Total Posts: 2684
Member Since: 2011
Location: He wants to take the bar one day but he's too busy counting them | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 5:34:28 PM
lol i lost this post and didn't notice flak was trying to troll my poetry. he hates walt whitman?
flak post a poem. we'll have a poem-off.Partial IP: 184.253.25 |
Total Posts: 2684
Member Since: 2011
Location: He wants to take the bar one day but he's too busy counting them | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 5:36:08 PM
and i never wrote that wigger essayPartial IP: 184.253.25 |
Total Posts: 4131
Member Since: 2007
Location: an undergrndhiphopcom perusing faggot obviously isn't gonna be able to care for a baby fuckin bird | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 5:41:13 PM
i liked your poem josh. whoever maya is, she makes you feel safePartial IP: .185.20.10 |
Total Posts: 23672
Member Since: 2001
Location: Official Discordian Sorcerer Prime Rib with melted horseradish cheddar Pick Up | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 5:59:19 PM
I agree with trev
Sounds like u and Maya has a bittersweet relationship and things are too complex for a simple solution.
But Im not a poet. I dont understand why people need to make language more complex. Just doesnt make sense to me, but my mother loves Walk WhitmanPartial IP: 17.142.222 |
Total Posts: 2051
Member Since: 2002 | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 6:03:06 PM
does maya have a phat ass?
sorry
are you related?Partial IP: 54.202.218 |
Total Posts: 23672
Member Since: 2001
Location: Official Discordian Sorcerer Prime Rib with melted horseradish cheddar Pick Up | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 6:58:34 PM
those suck dudePartial IP: 17.142.222 |
Total Posts: 23672
Member Since: 2001
Location: Official Discordian Sorcerer Prime Rib with melted horseradish cheddar Pick Up | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 7:05:50 PM
Im pretty sure everyone thinks they suck.
My humor is pretty awesome. Youre sad/angryPartial IP: 17.142.222 |
Total Posts: 23672
Member Since: 2001
Location: Official Discordian Sorcerer Prime Rib with melted horseradish cheddar Pick Up | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 7:13:16 PM
I laugh at things that are funny, smartness is not a prerequisite. I like pet videos and good comedians. I dont like outdated Memes that no one things are funny.
Of course Im happier than you. I was not born paki.Partial IP: 17.142.222 |
Total Posts: 4060
Member Since: 2010
Location: Fuck some damn dumminoes | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 7:41:40 PM
becca thinks sinking, falling, and being shrouded are all comforting. lolPartial IP: 04.220.134 |
Total Posts: 4131
Member Since: 2007
Location: an undergrndhiphopcom perusing faggot obviously isn't gonna be able to care for a baby fuckin bird | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 8:18:55 PM
thats how he felt before her trevor. then he got lost in her teeth and hair.Partial IP: .185.20.10 |
Total Posts: 23672
Member Since: 2001
Location: Official Discordian Sorcerer Prime Rib with melted horseradish cheddar Pick Up | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 8:38:38 PM
Yeah dude so what did you want to ask me about the schizophrenia symptoms you were experiencing again? You do know Im taking patients.
Oh, yeah your life rules
Partial IP: 17.142.222 |
Total Posts: 23672
Member Since: 2001
Location: Official Discordian Sorcerer Prime Rib with melted horseradish cheddar Pick Up | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 8:42:06 PM
Hey gr8, can you show us something that you posted that you believe to be funny?
Just curious if youre applying bible code to your jokes or something cus u suck balls when I just read them. Do I have to read you posts out load and backwards or something? Let us know because I dont want to miss something funny.
Yeah so post something you think I should think is funnyPartial IP: 17.142.222 |
Total Posts: 23672
Member Since: 2001
Location: Official Discordian Sorcerer Prime Rib with melted horseradish cheddar Pick Up | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 8:52:46 PM
You made the post about your feelings of disconnectedness and feelings of unreality.Nothing is related to Gr8 in anything I wrote. That was an odd loose connection
Just post something funy and Ill type lol like I do when people who are funny type something funny (ie. not you).
Prove me wrong. Show me a funny post you did. If Im being biased others can hop in and defend it as lols worthy.
But you are not able to do this
because you are not funny, just angry and sad.
"best looking guy on here" said the pakistaniPartial IP: 17.142.222 |
Total Posts: 5475
Member Since: 2009
Location: A week has never gone by without me doin Hiphop shit... actually, not ever more then a day or two | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 9:00:57 PM
i thought it was pretty funny when Jason said you look like Danny Devito.Partial IP: 96.20.5.87 |
Total Posts: 23672
Member Since: 2001
Location: Official Discordian Sorcerer Prime Rib with melted horseradish cheddar Pick Up | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 9:02:08 PM
as did IPartial IP: 17.142.222 |
Total Posts: 5475
Member Since: 2009
Location: A week has never gone by without me doin Hiphop shit... actually, not ever more then a day or two | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 9:27:43 PM
i think both of you's are pretty delusional.
tyrone with his ''experts lounge high horse'' style of posting.
and 85 and his I'm the best looking guy on ughh ramblings.
fuckin la-la land in here.Partial IP: 96.20.5.87 |
Total Posts: 712
Member Since: 2009
Location: *sensitive nigglets* | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 9:50:04 PM
*reb*Partial IP: 23.19.93.5 |
Total Posts: 23672
Member Since: 2001
Location: Official Discordian Sorcerer Prime Rib with melted horseradish cheddar Pick Up | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 10:32:01 PM
youre a virgin and an indian.
I am superior to most. I am the expert on multiple topics and I am hardly ever wrong.
Thats not a delusion, thats fact.
You dont have a "hilarious cool guy personality" you have a "I fucking hate everything and every one and I offer nothing in the way of humor or interest to anything. Yet I spend all my days here alone and sad abut my surroundings". Pathetic.
You think I cant see though your overpowering depression and misery? You think youre any different than one of my patient's with your self soothing rationalizations? Inability to acknowledge that you are unattractive? Maybe in some indian tinroof slum youre considered a good looking guy but not in the civilized world.
Reaching out for help one day then claiming superiority on another. You have no idea how you present. Plexiglass paki
Youre am indian with a big fat nose. You dont have any "dimes" fucking look at you. Youre a dork and youre ashamed of yourself.
Youre not funny. Nobody can find anything funny you ever said. All you did was try to ruin some guys life. Youre just a shitty duchebag with a rain cloud over your head.
Yep Im condescending and yep I feel superior to you because there is nothing you can or have done that I havent already. Im aware that may annoy you but thats been me from day one. I do feel superior to you in every way and I truly believe you have never had a girlfriend and are most likely a virgin.
Im just all around better.
Thats not saying much as youre kinda bottom of the barrel.
Partial IP: 17.142.222 |
Total Posts: 4060
Member Since: 2010
Location: Fuck some damn dumminoes | posted Tuesday, June 19, 2012 10:34:03 PM
becca,
"I fall into the sharp crook" - not positive
"you bury" - not positive
"your hair shrouds" - not positive
this broad is killing our boy here, as they embrace/fallPartial IP: 04.220.134 |
