let’s reflect on some random shit that will mean nothing except to those who actually speak with me.

-starting a movement means shit if that movement is dead.

-it may take a village to raise a child but only a press agent to make a griot.

-there is bad poetry in this world, nothing has convinced me otherwise.

-if my life was being shown in a movie theatre, i would duck out the back.

-i would read all the reviews.

-being the cornerstone of a movement that is dead is kinda like winning the cookie game, tu sabes?

-i am being pulled in too many directions.

-focus is a motherfucker but success is like getting with the prom queen.

-i need to change the color scheme to this blog.

-there goes three weeks of my life.

-i still refuse to post anything about my life on this blog.

-what the fuck did chuito de bayamon sing about?

-“fester/like culture”

-“radio wado was the soundtrack and you didnt know why”

-“all we have is gated minds”

-“tracy towers/a world away”

-“read like a POET”

-if i dont write this father poem, ima burst.

-workshops will save my life.

-poetry wont

-yes, i know it’s 17 syllables.

-see, see, see. yeah but you can show it too me.

-teaching is a bitch but a damn good poem is like getting with a first night stripper.

-the following poem is about (and 5 minutes pass), let me start, (3 minutes pass), thank you

-cheryl’s rants are quite contagious.

-yep, still convinced about that bad poetry thing.

-mattingly shoula waited till torre left.

-ima miss zim.

-the sax goes way better with poetry than the drum.

-bass is sexy.

-everyone may be a poet but can they produce a poem.

-use the comment section.

-more than zim, i miss the honda.

-how many times can a person fuck up before they exhaust all their chances?

and that’s that. next time, i’ll stick to reviewing venues.

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