Hell, I forgot I even had a blogger I've been so busy. Whats up blogger world, how goes the struggle to make dreams come true? Fear not, I've regained a ton of time and passion. It took me a while but somethings have to be experienced. Welcome back, Father...
Yes.. and all my fathers out there.. Fathers, by my meaning.. Those that not only pay for and make babies.. but are there for and raise women and men.. Happy day to you.. You've earned it.
Deuces.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Lost Boyz
THey come over the ridge
Living just over the edge
No parents to calm their rage
Timeless in age
they Know nothing but endless hunger
Snapping jaws spit, gutter drawl
From deep within the gut
call it
Young man fustration
Colored and tagged Tote bags
big enough to hold the brownest of bodies..
Not to exsclude the paler homies..
Cause if you followed me
I'd show you the horror dubbed amityhood.
Guns don't aim in my hood and the lost boys don't Care who they spray
Just as long as Anti Color catches the stray
any one of their soldiers Empty clips
Hopeless hands raising Hopeless kids
Nah!!
They not hopeless just
hopelessly defeated
They can't see being needed
So useless is their collective state and
No one truely minds the blind mice,
chasing the rotting cheese of lost girl dreams
Taught getting it in
Is whats in
So she gives in
to a thugs claim where
had she known the lords name
she wouldn't have had to slay
Malcom 7months before his earth day.
Baby jesus..?
Nah we aborted him.
His timing was just Unfortunately
Too Early
While I hold back my pen.. Don't want to seem Rushed.. .
So,
So
hows about
we follow their lead
slow it down and stay back watered
Dumb it down so much
we Bass ackwards
Perplexed by our own inability to keep pace,
Then shun those that Leap from those lost blocks
To Hardlywood.
Where they strip your idenity,
steal your streetness,
Like it was right after kanye's verse
They recieved this.. Take as meny as we can!!
Lost Boyz Part2 Never leaving the hood
Action!!
Living just over the edge
No parents to calm their rage
Timeless in age
they Know nothing but endless hunger
Snapping jaws spit, gutter drawl
From deep within the gut
call it
Young man fustration
Colored and tagged Tote bags
big enough to hold the brownest of bodies..
Not to exsclude the paler homies..
Cause if you followed me
I'd show you the horror dubbed amityhood.
Guns don't aim in my hood and the lost boys don't Care who they spray
Just as long as Anti Color catches the stray
any one of their soldiers Empty clips
Hopeless hands raising Hopeless kids
Nah!!
They not hopeless just
hopelessly defeated
They can't see being needed
So useless is their collective state and
No one truely minds the blind mice,
chasing the rotting cheese of lost girl dreams
Taught getting it in
Is whats in
So she gives in
to a thugs claim where
had she known the lords name
she wouldn't have had to slay
Malcom 7months before his earth day.
Baby jesus..?
Nah we aborted him.
His timing was just Unfortunately
Too Early
While I hold back my pen.. Don't want to seem Rushed.. .
So,
So
hows about
we follow their lead
slow it down and stay back watered
Dumb it down so much
we Bass ackwards
Perplexed by our own inability to keep pace,
Then shun those that Leap from those lost blocks
To Hardlywood.
Where they strip your idenity,
steal your streetness,
Like it was right after kanye's verse
They recieved this.. Take as meny as we can!!
Lost Boyz Part2 Never leaving the hood
Action!!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
The Rizen
Oh lord, it’s like you tease sista. Cause I just met the she that
Should have been. That you she would never be. So here it plays
Like high school drama on an old man conscious. Wishing she were
A thousand miles away so I could day dream about her kisses.
Cause if she were you, and you she.. Your lips could tame savages,
Calm seas, all while bring the strong country to its knees.
Because if you were she, there would be rizen for this kind of
Massive chaos. I’ve seen the madness before, but it ain’t shit
In comparison to how you loot hearts and plunder dreams.
Last I check your conquests have been legendary. So I hold back
Nothing, like Saxon’s we hit your shores, no waiting just quick
And precise penetration. Yet this is more then a story of Pandora’s
Box. She, if she were you, we’d spend night on end causing living Dreams.
These things require no sleep. No bed would be safe, and lord knows
No fury like project reasonable chaos. All things in moderation.
If you were she, crazed from daily works of you on top of me
On top of sheets. Comforters being kicked to the floor. You
Praying for a breeze. Fire in your eyes, and an arch of your back.
I’d put lips together and blow you a sigh of relief.
See multi-talented couldn’t account for the configuration, the
Flexing of bodies built in general sutra, Just challenging enough
To cause intrigue; yet simple. Simply put if you were the she I wanted
Her to be then there would be nothing but hard times leaving the house.
We be constantly late, and by late I mean period. Birthing new ways
To conjunction, while twisting the metaphysical theology of conscious
Poetry. Weighing the con’s and pro’s of our actions wouldn’t even
Be considered, the consequences would be half the fun.
See I know all about this battle, so no average Joe’s need apply.
See if you were here and she there meaning you were the she I
Always wanted her to be. Sleep would be a daunting task. Struggling
Not to touch one another’s pens. Or talk about all the things we
Couldn't control nor plan for. Yet still encouraging each other to
Change the world. See I still have faith in serenity, that’s peace.
Should have been. That you she would never be. So here it plays
Like high school drama on an old man conscious. Wishing she were
A thousand miles away so I could day dream about her kisses.
Cause if she were you, and you she.. Your lips could tame savages,
Calm seas, all while bring the strong country to its knees.
Because if you were she, there would be rizen for this kind of
Massive chaos. I’ve seen the madness before, but it ain’t shit
In comparison to how you loot hearts and plunder dreams.
Last I check your conquests have been legendary. So I hold back
Nothing, like Saxon’s we hit your shores, no waiting just quick
And precise penetration. Yet this is more then a story of Pandora’s
Box. She, if she were you, we’d spend night on end causing living Dreams.
These things require no sleep. No bed would be safe, and lord knows
No fury like project reasonable chaos. All things in moderation.
If you were she, crazed from daily works of you on top of me
On top of sheets. Comforters being kicked to the floor. You
Praying for a breeze. Fire in your eyes, and an arch of your back.
I’d put lips together and blow you a sigh of relief.
See multi-talented couldn’t account for the configuration, the
Flexing of bodies built in general sutra, Just challenging enough
To cause intrigue; yet simple. Simply put if you were the she I wanted
Her to be then there would be nothing but hard times leaving the house.
We be constantly late, and by late I mean period. Birthing new ways
To conjunction, while twisting the metaphysical theology of conscious
Poetry. Weighing the con’s and pro’s of our actions wouldn’t even
Be considered, the consequences would be half the fun.
See I know all about this battle, so no average Joe’s need apply.
See if you were here and she there meaning you were the she I
Always wanted her to be. Sleep would be a daunting task. Struggling
Not to touch one another’s pens. Or talk about all the things we
Couldn't control nor plan for. Yet still encouraging each other to
Change the world. See I still have faith in serenity, that’s peace.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Strangled!
Control of ones life goes to the victor...
Cut free from the moments in life where we could only sing our freedom,
Reduced to the cords ability to vibrate at a quicken and strained pace.
If only we all learned to keep it.
We all know this,
The smiles on faces hold no place among the leaders of our race
And should they happen upon us.
Short lived is certainly their status.
Some ass always finds a way to embarrass the majority
With the grace only out measured by their sheer ignorance.
Who's going to save our naqisha's and laquisha's
When all we see is her hip size and thick thighs.
Perpetuated by our singers and rap stars?
Blinding us by stirring up falsehoods of endearment.
These meant to cover up our augments.
Hardly meant, but just as deadly as round sent to chase down streets aimlessly.
While we claim we want it all, just not you.
You care for me as long as my cares can be ignored,
My desires unaffordable.
So our hope goes un-restored.
Accomplishments go unheard
Lost to the seas of wrongs we've done and continue.
Two against the world three against the current.
Control goes to the victor!
Which of course is not here among us to stand and be accounted for.
So we put our lives in the hands of those that stole and bargained away status holding ancestors.
While drug abusers crying over tracks the revolution shall be televised but
Who believes Bobbies lies anyways?
This is amazing hands out while big belly white politicians are
Replaced with model quality liars of the same up bringing
Prostitutes our lime light elders and peers.
That isn't as amazing as the state of emergency in our urban streets where
Convicts are our heroes,
Drug dealers our teachers,
And fiends their aids.
Road to obliteration.
Conceder this ain't even the aftermath.
Just the soft sigh of breath in-between the continued onslaught
Of our most valuable possessions.
Our souls...
Not even in the biblical yet in the stereotypical since.
Since cents goes to the victor...
Our lives into the sewers of tranquility.
Happy to just be, so control goes to the victor.
The load goes straight to shoulders the Burdon ours to bare. And our arms are out,
Alarms give no sign of stopping the cries innocence
or other wise. SO..
Our off spring seem destined for low tolerance matched only by their degrading mentality.
Stating all they'll ever see beings and ends with streets numbered from 1st to lost avenue.
Big thinkers not here, not unless your talking video hoes and
Late night unplugged video hoes.
So control goes to the victor.
Souls go to the lesser and all were left with is our confessions
That fall on deaf ears.
Fear success and no man,
Work hard at keeping the system in working order.
Working order aka for without reason
Kill or be killed.
Ask not what your country thinks of you,
But think the world of your country.
Order is dictated by the victor, guess that's what keeps me out of it.
Mad at the labels yet govern by their restraints.
Mad with reason, still gone in the wind.
Chaotic the world's secret agenda.
So control goes to the victor...
Control goes to the victory...
Control goes out the window with each victorious
Up springing head strong gun tooting
Secretive back stabber
Willing to kill family members to get close enough to the nine gates.
So I write in sevens waiting for the hour.
The hour control is returned to the people.
Cut free from the moments in life where we could only sing our freedom,
Reduced to the cords ability to vibrate at a quicken and strained pace.
If only we all learned to keep it.
We all know this,
The smiles on faces hold no place among the leaders of our race
And should they happen upon us.
Short lived is certainly their status.
Some ass always finds a way to embarrass the majority
With the grace only out measured by their sheer ignorance.
Who's going to save our naqisha's and laquisha's
When all we see is her hip size and thick thighs.
Perpetuated by our singers and rap stars?
Blinding us by stirring up falsehoods of endearment.
These meant to cover up our augments.
Hardly meant, but just as deadly as round sent to chase down streets aimlessly.
While we claim we want it all, just not you.
You care for me as long as my cares can be ignored,
My desires unaffordable.
So our hope goes un-restored.
Accomplishments go unheard
Lost to the seas of wrongs we've done and continue.
Two against the world three against the current.
Control goes to the victor!
Which of course is not here among us to stand and be accounted for.
So we put our lives in the hands of those that stole and bargained away status holding ancestors.
While drug abusers crying over tracks the revolution shall be televised but
Who believes Bobbies lies anyways?
This is amazing hands out while big belly white politicians are
Replaced with model quality liars of the same up bringing
Prostitutes our lime light elders and peers.
That isn't as amazing as the state of emergency in our urban streets where
Convicts are our heroes,
Drug dealers our teachers,
And fiends their aids.
Road to obliteration.
Conceder this ain't even the aftermath.
Just the soft sigh of breath in-between the continued onslaught
Of our most valuable possessions.
Our souls...
Not even in the biblical yet in the stereotypical since.
Since cents goes to the victor...
Our lives into the sewers of tranquility.
Happy to just be, so control goes to the victor.
The load goes straight to shoulders the Burdon ours to bare. And our arms are out,
Alarms give no sign of stopping the cries innocence
or other wise. SO..
Our off spring seem destined for low tolerance matched only by their degrading mentality.
Stating all they'll ever see beings and ends with streets numbered from 1st to lost avenue.
Big thinkers not here, not unless your talking video hoes and
Late night unplugged video hoes.
So control goes to the victor.
Souls go to the lesser and all were left with is our confessions
That fall on deaf ears.
Fear success and no man,
Work hard at keeping the system in working order.
Working order aka for without reason
Kill or be killed.
Ask not what your country thinks of you,
But think the world of your country.
Order is dictated by the victor, guess that's what keeps me out of it.
Mad at the labels yet govern by their restraints.
Mad with reason, still gone in the wind.
Chaotic the world's secret agenda.
So control goes to the victor...
Control goes to the victory...
Control goes out the window with each victorious
Up springing head strong gun tooting
Secretive back stabber
Willing to kill family members to get close enough to the nine gates.
So I write in sevens waiting for the hour.
The hour control is returned to the people.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
You a Poet!
Crazy brother man called me a poet..
I politely corrected him.
I'm a writer.. First...
Poet but category.. See
America classified me.. Poet..
Not just any type though..
I'm a street poet..
classic avenues I don't follow.
Had to put the darkies poetry in it's proper...
Element.. the streets..
This is so we can't contaminate their..
Rose are blood red..
Diamonds blood blue..
But all still just a bitter reminder that
We just N***A's to you..
I mean it's crazy
Brotha.. I fought and bled for America..
Nah I'm not speaking hypothetical.
We speaking in actual.. like Facts
I left blue turn red dribbles of life
on shore you haven't seen in your life..
be it this one or your next..
See I've learn to write cross time.
so like minds can't confuse
who's my audience?
mine like Hughes; sometimes called a gift.
but still in America
black man
expendable..
watch your black
they bleaching kids through
radio waves..
Digitally placing them into mental
compliancy.
Keep an eye on your seeds
afro America is the new..
an improved..
Afro Terminator..
Programmed and armed to the teeth.
the more they leave us to our selves.
the better we get at killing
our selves.
We laugh and brag about it..
Over boosted cells
You know where they at
but you arrest me.
No good at killing them darkies..
I'm expendable to the world.
That hummer won't save me..
No matter the color.. All America see's
is just another brotha.
Dark to complicated to understand.
So they mark me Un-able to be reasoned with.
Not following the system put in order.
Rebelling against the normal slaughter of things.
He's black with a strong back; kill him..
I thought he had a gun..
Turns you into free men.. liberated of all wrong
for having a unjustified thought.
America America...~Sung~
Shedding shrapnel and insults
at us through funny films or..
playful gestures.. asking us all to laugh at... US.
Mancia be my hero!
God shed his grace on ~Sung~
WE..
The people, damn the title for.
People make America.. We..
Afro Americans, Asain, West Indian, Purtorican, Mexican, to the nearly forgotten Indians
And yes even you White Americans..
For we are..
We are America..
I politely corrected him.
I'm a writer.. First...
Poet but category.. See
America classified me.. Poet..
Not just any type though..
I'm a street poet..
classic avenues I don't follow.
Had to put the darkies poetry in it's proper...
Element.. the streets..
This is so we can't contaminate their..
Rose are blood red..
Diamonds blood blue..
But all still just a bitter reminder that
We just N***A's to you..
I mean it's crazy
Brotha.. I fought and bled for America..
Nah I'm not speaking hypothetical.
We speaking in actual.. like Facts
I left blue turn red dribbles of life
on shore you haven't seen in your life..
be it this one or your next..
See I've learn to write cross time.
so like minds can't confuse
who's my audience?
mine like Hughes; sometimes called a gift.
but still in America
black man
expendable..
watch your black
they bleaching kids through
radio waves..
Digitally placing them into mental
compliancy.
Keep an eye on your seeds
afro America is the new..
an improved..
Afro Terminator..
Programmed and armed to the teeth.
the more they leave us to our selves.
the better we get at killing
our selves.
We laugh and brag about it..
Over boosted cells
You know where they at
but you arrest me.
No good at killing them darkies..
I'm expendable to the world.
That hummer won't save me..
No matter the color.. All America see's
is just another brotha.
Dark to complicated to understand.
So they mark me Un-able to be reasoned with.
Not following the system put in order.
Rebelling against the normal slaughter of things.
He's black with a strong back; kill him..
I thought he had a gun..
Turns you into free men.. liberated of all wrong
for having a unjustified thought.
America America...~Sung~
Shedding shrapnel and insults
at us through funny films or..
playful gestures.. asking us all to laugh at... US.
Mancia be my hero!
God shed his grace on ~Sung~
WE..
The people, damn the title for.
People make America.. We..
Afro Americans, Asain, West Indian, Purtorican, Mexican, to the nearly forgotten Indians
And yes even you White Americans..
For we are..
We are America..
Miss. Coffee & Danishes
It's hard to call it..
She was like this strange
arrangement of sweet scents and powerful lips..
she'd hurl whirl winds of fantacies
mind blowing fragments of smiles and waves.
Like a game we play every week..
My single use friend. Once a week friend
Me trying to fence my way into eye contact.
glances that stop hearts..
Or at least causing momentary Arrest
Bail set at entertaining a perfect act of innocense.
See she ain't your average blend..
Foldgers hasn't the aroma
Max well doesn't discribe the way
her every curve is accented by
Every stich, and should a sem break...
~Gasps~ I might faint.
See miss coffee is perfect blend of inperfection.
Childish and flirtatious.
Rounded yet still going through..
Blinded by the life.
Her danishes has men and women
Tripping over words
While try'n to act in control.
All the while praying that she ends
Every word with a glance to the floor
A meek smirk, as eyes rise to look
upon eye.. together watching each others
future unfold through birth. Their privet revolution.
Shit let the movements be televised.
With each step she's granted standing
~Claps~ Appreciation.
See these danishes pack bite.
Miss. Coffee and Danishes
To some might just be an average miss..
you know something thats easily missed.
note the "You know"
Cause I didn't miss the honesty in her
words and the pain in eye's swirled
in a soup of miss-understanding.
I ain't miss shit..
Mrs. Danishes..
So smile and laugh at me..
Or with me.. but I'm playing it out.
Is that all right? Baby..? ~Sung~
See Coffee be having floetry on late night repeat.
So open up you mouth and just say yes..~Sung~
or
Cause you make me so.. so.. so..~sung~
Hold up..
Cause I don't want to hurt no body..
But if godi had to be offended
for me to exspress an opinion..
let the tommy guns go..
Shattering all imatations
let no false prophets
Spit foul of me.
I was just letting the record show.
Not on the just to get down with the danish
or take long sips on yah coffee.
I want to bat the home team.
Play the couch for late nights
and a movie..
Laugh about the shit we've been through.
And Ma, know.. I've been through..
But i'm willing to let all that go.
let a new light show.
right now.. this very night..
Just to go..
For coffee and Danishes
With you..
She was like this strange
arrangement of sweet scents and powerful lips..
she'd hurl whirl winds of fantacies
mind blowing fragments of smiles and waves.
Like a game we play every week..
My single use friend. Once a week friend
Me trying to fence my way into eye contact.
glances that stop hearts..
Or at least causing momentary Arrest
Bail set at entertaining a perfect act of innocense.
See she ain't your average blend..
Foldgers hasn't the aroma
Max well doesn't discribe the way
her every curve is accented by
Every stich, and should a sem break...
~Gasps~ I might faint.
See miss coffee is perfect blend of inperfection.
Childish and flirtatious.
Rounded yet still going through..
Blinded by the life.
Her danishes has men and women
Tripping over words
While try'n to act in control.
All the while praying that she ends
Every word with a glance to the floor
A meek smirk, as eyes rise to look
upon eye.. together watching each others
future unfold through birth. Their privet revolution.
Shit let the movements be televised.
With each step she's granted standing
~Claps~ Appreciation.
See these danishes pack bite.
Miss. Coffee and Danishes
To some might just be an average miss..
you know something thats easily missed.
note the "You know"
Cause I didn't miss the honesty in her
words and the pain in eye's swirled
in a soup of miss-understanding.
I ain't miss shit..
Mrs. Danishes..
So smile and laugh at me..
Or with me.. but I'm playing it out.
Is that all right? Baby..? ~Sung~
See Coffee be having floetry on late night repeat.
So open up you mouth and just say yes..~Sung~
or
Cause you make me so.. so.. so..~sung~
Hold up..
Cause I don't want to hurt no body..
But if godi had to be offended
for me to exspress an opinion..
let the tommy guns go..
Shattering all imatations
let no false prophets
Spit foul of me.
I was just letting the record show.
Not on the just to get down with the danish
or take long sips on yah coffee.
I want to bat the home team.
Play the couch for late nights
and a movie..
Laugh about the shit we've been through.
And Ma, know.. I've been through..
But i'm willing to let all that go.
let a new light show.
right now.. this very night..
Just to go..
For coffee and Danishes
With you..
Writers Block!
Calling all poets.. Calling all poets..
Writers block has been spotted on the rise..
raiding note pads and pen jackets
We have an apb out on the suspect.
See block was born on the first day
of creation the moments before man designed
penmanship.. Block was waiting to address
Witness to manuscripts.
Amazingly block's longevity is astounding.
Living long past it's time.
Block had an idea.. then it lost it..
feeble in it's attempt to lock it..
it blocked it.. ingenious
block found it's self committed to
word blocking.. block pop locked it's way
into thoughts and stole creativity.
like a gremlin in the night.. and it was way past 12,
belly full from thought stealing.
got this criminal, the villain strong enough to capture the greatest of feelings.
warp them down and hype up the ignorance of emptiness..
No writing for you it screams..
Writers block.. Flee's the scene..
We got an APB, on a MC KILLA!!!!
Writers block is strangling the youth..
Damn the youth..
Writes block is strangle the Music..
Damn the Movement..
Writers block is hitting Women up.. for more the just numbers
Calling all writers Calling all writers...
Block is on the loose..
Independent loose cannon aiming for your written action.
Drama's loose their Dramatic ploy..
Film flops the box office..
Writers block is to blame.
Got producers pimping out their company logo's
while managers get wet to dollars
while
Artist get stretched to their limits..
pushing
they push
then block makes them
attempt to make us believe it's cool to be ignorant and lazy
yet glitter like the stars..
Swagger blocking ... Blocked.
Like "You know writer.. I've followed your character since the beginning
and I must say I really like you.. But your to graphic for the kids..."
Blocked..
Writers are in a panic...
One writer has gone on record as to have said.
"It came out of no where.. I tried to move or dodge it, but I don't know; when it hit me my head was all open.
Then with grace and a doctors skill block sowed up my creative juices.. I mean I'm alive but."
Roll credits..
Calling all imaginative people.
Writers block has escaped the clutching of lady long law.
Clueless of the threat surrounding you a
warning like truth messages " Writers block slays 5million articles a year. "
End message.
Calling all registered artist.. Calling all artist.
Paints have lost their softness and bold luminations..
Brushes no longer have bristles
empty canvas's attack lone painter..
No photo's have been permitted to be taken..
emergency reconstructive services won't save
the thing.. Blocked...
Breaking news this just in..
Cop-O's have the writer cornered in the Walt district.
Disney is Sue'ing for a million..
In the sky...
Blocked..
word is writers block has lost the battle but not the war..
Writer was quoted to having said..
"If it wasn't for those meddling pens"
Dots followed...
perhaps writer was... Blocked..
Writers block has been spotted on the rise..
raiding note pads and pen jackets
We have an apb out on the suspect.
See block was born on the first day
of creation the moments before man designed
penmanship.. Block was waiting to address
Witness to manuscripts.
Amazingly block's longevity is astounding.
Living long past it's time.
Block had an idea.. then it lost it..
feeble in it's attempt to lock it..
it blocked it.. ingenious
block found it's self committed to
word blocking.. block pop locked it's way
into thoughts and stole creativity.
like a gremlin in the night.. and it was way past 12,
belly full from thought stealing.
got this criminal, the villain strong enough to capture the greatest of feelings.
warp them down and hype up the ignorance of emptiness..
No writing for you it screams..
Writers block.. Flee's the scene..
We got an APB, on a MC KILLA!!!!
Writers block is strangling the youth..
Damn the youth..
Writes block is strangle the Music..
Damn the Movement..
Writers block is hitting Women up.. for more the just numbers
Calling all writers Calling all writers...
Block is on the loose..
Independent loose cannon aiming for your written action.
Drama's loose their Dramatic ploy..
Film flops the box office..
Writers block is to blame.
Got producers pimping out their company logo's
while managers get wet to dollars
while
Artist get stretched to their limits..
pushing
they push
then block makes them
attempt to make us believe it's cool to be ignorant and lazy
yet glitter like the stars..
Swagger blocking ... Blocked.
Like "You know writer.. I've followed your character since the beginning
and I must say I really like you.. But your to graphic for the kids..."
Blocked..
Writers are in a panic...
One writer has gone on record as to have said.
"It came out of no where.. I tried to move or dodge it, but I don't know; when it hit me my head was all open.
Then with grace and a doctors skill block sowed up my creative juices.. I mean I'm alive but."
Roll credits..
Calling all imaginative people.
Writers block has escaped the clutching of lady long law.
Clueless of the threat surrounding you a
warning like truth messages " Writers block slays 5million articles a year. "
End message.
Calling all registered artist.. Calling all artist.
Paints have lost their softness and bold luminations..
Brushes no longer have bristles
empty canvas's attack lone painter..
No photo's have been permitted to be taken..
emergency reconstructive services won't save
the thing.. Blocked...
Breaking news this just in..
Cop-O's have the writer cornered in the Walt district.
Disney is Sue'ing for a million..
In the sky...
Blocked..
word is writers block has lost the battle but not the war..
Writer was quoted to having said..
"If it wasn't for those meddling pens"
Dots followed...
perhaps writer was... Blocked..
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