Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Zanzibar
Z bar
PBR
had it all
one way st
& kids
we'll meet
brooklyn lager
and a broken starter
Travis Bickle
on the bathroom door
painted in
his reflection's sin
to drive far
and be a fan
of fanfarlo
from borough's in
London town
and Ayn Rand
we gave a hand
and left and drove
back home
to sleep and wake
and do it over
again
PBR
had it all
one way st
& kids
we'll meet
brooklyn lager
and a broken starter
Travis Bickle
on the bathroom door
painted in
his reflection's sin
to drive far
and be a fan
of fanfarlo
from borough's in
London town
and Ayn Rand
we gave a hand
and left and drove
back home
to sleep and wake
and do it over
again
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Wait, is that old Norman Visage?
I once knew this man named Norman, Norman Visage. Norman was, for the most part, a regular kinda guy. He was the sort of character you'd see in those dingy, rainy little diners on the outside of town (think like Tom Waits - Small Change era, beatific, NY setting - a time of cabs, eggs, good times, strong liquor, late nights and hookers). You might be thinking, how can a diner be "rainy"? Well, it was those kinds of diners and those kinds of guys that you'd only see once a year when you ran into them to avoid a heavy, unannounced rain. Thus, they were rainy.
It was one of those kinds of days though that I first met Norman Visage. I had been caught in the rain like Woody Allen and Diane Keaton were caught in the rain in Manhattan. You know, the time they ended up hooking up in the Museum?? Totally sexy and romantic, and classic, like black & white museum sex classic. Although this time I was alone, well, just me, and Norman Visage.
As I first stumbled my way into the diner, soaked and confused, I didn't take a bit of notice of the odd and freakish nature of old Norman Visage. I shook off the condensation from the precipitation and took my seat in booth 12 to wait out the storm. No, I didn't notice old Norman Visage at all, not one bit, he was an average Joe, nothing out of the ordinary, not until he stood up from the booth he was occupying and without warning, I then noticed the long, 3 foot cock he had attached to his body that served as his arm.
You see, Norman Visage was born a freak of nature wherein if "freak" is defined as having a large penis instead of an arm, then the term was of appropriate use. As Norman Visage stood up to pay his bill, my world slowly turned upside down and seemed to almost move in slow motion.
If I close my eyes, I can think back to that exact moment when we were all swimming under water. Imagine the opening scene of Reservoir Dogs, the scene where the thieves all walk out of the diner in slow motion as Little Green Bag plays. That was me, except this time, as I turned my head in bemusement to follow the large cock passing me, and as And It Stoned Me by Van Morrison played on the jukebox, I couldn't help myself but to jump up from my seat and try to catch him before he left, knowing that if I didn't speak with him now, I'd likely never get my chance.
"Uh,...Sir!,.....Excuse me,...uumm,..Sir,..Yeah,...My name's %$#@*, could I have a few moments of your time?" Norman Visage rightfully accepted my invitation of conversation. Shocked and nervous as I was, we took our seats back down at my booth and began to converse. "So, what can I do for you today %$#@*?, he directly stated. "Well, uumm, I couldn't help but to notice, uumm, how do I say this,...sorry,...I'm a little nervous,...uuhh the large cock you have coming out of your body where your arm should be??"
(author's note: it was at this precise moment that Norman Visage's large cock twitched with movement in a moment of precise terror for the author)
"Uhh, Yeah, you're very perceptive, what of it, haven't you ever seen a cock before?", he asked. "Well, sure I have, but not coming out of ones body as if it were an arm, you must admit, it's quite odd" I replied. "You're very direct and quite forward if I may say so %$#@*, I like that about you", he articulated.
We spent the better part of 2 hours telling stories, trading tales and getting to know each other. By the time Norman Visage had to curtail our visit for a large cock as arm Doctor's appointment, the rain had stopped and I too could now continue on my journey.
Feeling like old friends from days gone by, we agreed to meet at the same diner in a weeks time to continue our friendship. As I payed my bill, we said our goodbyes and Norman Visage started towards the exit. In a moment of utter stupidity, I decided to engage Norman Visage for one last favor, a respectful handshake. As I caught his attention for the last time ever, I reached out my hand in a gesture of gratitude for his time.
Not thinking about the obvious fact that instead of a right arm, he possessed a massive cock, in a state of ohmygodwhathaveidone?, I grabbed his huge Johnson and began to squeeze and shake the head in a transfixed state of awe and trepidation.
In a hypnotized state of repulsed agony, I consciously watched Norman Visage as he moaned with pleasure, unable to control the now impenetrable, erect cock.
You now realize, there was only one thing left to happen as this sad, sad, story comes to it's woeful demise. As the seconds turned to minutes, as I still stood in my hypnotic state, as the moans and cries of pleasure became louder, faster and more heightened, and as the beautiful Spring sun began to show and dry the earth, Norman Visage began to ejaculate all over my face, hair and had covered my body in a ten second encounter of disgusting embarrassment.
Catching his breath and heading out the door with a bemused smile on his face, Norman Visage was said to have been heard saying, "thanks, %$#@*, see ya next week". As the innocent bystanders who were now large in number stood looking at me with their judgemental looks of displeasure, I began the long road to recovery like that of many war veterans or disaster survivors.
It's safe to say that I never saw old Norman Visage again or stepped foot into that evil diner. Such was my traumatic state, that I actually didn't do much in terms of leaving the house for the better part of 2 years. I'm proud to say that I've now fully recovered from the horror that was my experience with Norman Visage. When I look back upon that tragic day and even when I look back in my life on the mistakes I've made, one poignant reminder always comes to my mind. It's a phrase to live by, to pass down through generations and to speak out loud to yourself everyday before you step foot into this mad, mad world:
Never, and I mean NEVER shake hand to penis with a man named Norman Visage who has a large cock instead of an arm.
As I finish this memoir of tragedy, love, terror and bewilderment from a sunny park overlooking the downtown area of my city, I look up and realize exactly where I am. I'm oddly enough only one city block away from that fateful diner where this tale originated. As the birds chirp and as a soft wind blows through my hair from the East, I take one last deep breath of relaxing spring air and look out from my paper and say to myself,....
Wait, is that old Norman Visage?
It was one of those kinds of days though that I first met Norman Visage. I had been caught in the rain like Woody Allen and Diane Keaton were caught in the rain in Manhattan. You know, the time they ended up hooking up in the Museum?? Totally sexy and romantic, and classic, like black & white museum sex classic. Although this time I was alone, well, just me, and Norman Visage.
As I first stumbled my way into the diner, soaked and confused, I didn't take a bit of notice of the odd and freakish nature of old Norman Visage. I shook off the condensation from the precipitation and took my seat in booth 12 to wait out the storm. No, I didn't notice old Norman Visage at all, not one bit, he was an average Joe, nothing out of the ordinary, not until he stood up from the booth he was occupying and without warning, I then noticed the long, 3 foot cock he had attached to his body that served as his arm.
You see, Norman Visage was born a freak of nature wherein if "freak" is defined as having a large penis instead of an arm, then the term was of appropriate use. As Norman Visage stood up to pay his bill, my world slowly turned upside down and seemed to almost move in slow motion.
If I close my eyes, I can think back to that exact moment when we were all swimming under water. Imagine the opening scene of Reservoir Dogs, the scene where the thieves all walk out of the diner in slow motion as Little Green Bag plays. That was me, except this time, as I turned my head in bemusement to follow the large cock passing me, and as And It Stoned Me by Van Morrison played on the jukebox, I couldn't help myself but to jump up from my seat and try to catch him before he left, knowing that if I didn't speak with him now, I'd likely never get my chance.
"Uh,...Sir!,.....Excuse me,...uumm,..Sir,..Yeah,...My name's %$#@*, could I have a few moments of your time?" Norman Visage rightfully accepted my invitation of conversation. Shocked and nervous as I was, we took our seats back down at my booth and began to converse. "So, what can I do for you today %$#@*?, he directly stated. "Well, uumm, I couldn't help but to notice, uumm, how do I say this,...sorry,...I'm a little nervous,...uuhh the large cock you have coming out of your body where your arm should be??"
(author's note: it was at this precise moment that Norman Visage's large cock twitched with movement in a moment of precise terror for the author)
"Uhh, Yeah, you're very perceptive, what of it, haven't you ever seen a cock before?", he asked. "Well, sure I have, but not coming out of ones body as if it were an arm, you must admit, it's quite odd" I replied. "You're very direct and quite forward if I may say so %$#@*, I like that about you", he articulated.
We spent the better part of 2 hours telling stories, trading tales and getting to know each other. By the time Norman Visage had to curtail our visit for a large cock as arm Doctor's appointment, the rain had stopped and I too could now continue on my journey.
Feeling like old friends from days gone by, we agreed to meet at the same diner in a weeks time to continue our friendship. As I payed my bill, we said our goodbyes and Norman Visage started towards the exit. In a moment of utter stupidity, I decided to engage Norman Visage for one last favor, a respectful handshake. As I caught his attention for the last time ever, I reached out my hand in a gesture of gratitude for his time.
Not thinking about the obvious fact that instead of a right arm, he possessed a massive cock, in a state of ohmygodwhathaveidone?, I grabbed his huge Johnson and began to squeeze and shake the head in a transfixed state of awe and trepidation.
In a hypnotized state of repulsed agony, I consciously watched Norman Visage as he moaned with pleasure, unable to control the now impenetrable, erect cock.
You now realize, there was only one thing left to happen as this sad, sad, story comes to it's woeful demise. As the seconds turned to minutes, as I still stood in my hypnotic state, as the moans and cries of pleasure became louder, faster and more heightened, and as the beautiful Spring sun began to show and dry the earth, Norman Visage began to ejaculate all over my face, hair and had covered my body in a ten second encounter of disgusting embarrassment.
Catching his breath and heading out the door with a bemused smile on his face, Norman Visage was said to have been heard saying, "thanks, %$#@*, see ya next week". As the innocent bystanders who were now large in number stood looking at me with their judgemental looks of displeasure, I began the long road to recovery like that of many war veterans or disaster survivors.
It's safe to say that I never saw old Norman Visage again or stepped foot into that evil diner. Such was my traumatic state, that I actually didn't do much in terms of leaving the house for the better part of 2 years. I'm proud to say that I've now fully recovered from the horror that was my experience with Norman Visage. When I look back upon that tragic day and even when I look back in my life on the mistakes I've made, one poignant reminder always comes to my mind. It's a phrase to live by, to pass down through generations and to speak out loud to yourself everyday before you step foot into this mad, mad world:
Never, and I mean NEVER shake hand to penis with a man named Norman Visage who has a large cock instead of an arm.
As I finish this memoir of tragedy, love, terror and bewilderment from a sunny park overlooking the downtown area of my city, I look up and realize exactly where I am. I'm oddly enough only one city block away from that fateful diner where this tale originated. As the birds chirp and as a soft wind blows through my hair from the East, I take one last deep breath of relaxing spring air and look out from my paper and say to myself,....
Wait, is that old Norman Visage?
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
there comes a time in a man's life when,.....
thinking seriously about retiring this here site of word funk amalgamation mix (ahhhhh it feels so good to have said that, it's been sooo long, it really has)
yeah, yeah, yeah,.....this blog has been so fun for the past couple of years - i never thought i would have enjoyed talking utter crap to all of you fine people. but i guess it's just come to the point where i'm unsure where else i could actually take it.
as much as i like writing broke poetry, verse funk out, all get out football smack down proper hoolie throw down,...there has to be a time to walk away.
for those weeping:
i haven't made up my mind yet, just wanted to test the water of sorts.
see if the demand is still out there.
figure out my mind elsewhere
can you believe all the memories we've had here?
let me know what you think's fair
tighten the head on the white snare
for a beat, a bang, to get you there
i still refuse to cut my hair
i'm jumping ships come with if you dare
dunno,..
i feel like this blog has been instrumental in helping me move onwards and upwards in my pursuit in all things putting pen to paper and creating stories - open lid to electronic thinking machine and rhyme
so here we are - what should we do? will my absence create a deep, dark void in your life? who are you that even still reads this funk out? i'll cherish the memories we've created together, until i make up my mind, i'll remain forever yours,...
yeah, yeah, yeah,.....this blog has been so fun for the past couple of years - i never thought i would have enjoyed talking utter crap to all of you fine people. but i guess it's just come to the point where i'm unsure where else i could actually take it.
as much as i like writing broke poetry, verse funk out, all get out football smack down proper hoolie throw down,...there has to be a time to walk away.
for those weeping:
i haven't made up my mind yet, just wanted to test the water of sorts.
see if the demand is still out there.
figure out my mind elsewhere
can you believe all the memories we've had here?
let me know what you think's fair
tighten the head on the white snare
for a beat, a bang, to get you there
i still refuse to cut my hair
i'm jumping ships come with if you dare
dunno,..
i feel like this blog has been instrumental in helping me move onwards and upwards in my pursuit in all things putting pen to paper and creating stories - open lid to electronic thinking machine and rhyme
so here we are - what should we do? will my absence create a deep, dark void in your life? who are you that even still reads this funk out? i'll cherish the memories we've created together, until i make up my mind, i'll remain forever yours,...
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
We all sing
Like a tourist
Who only
Loves himself
Loves the world
And himself
And only snaps
Time slots
Of tiny little reminders
We all sing
Like a forlorn lovedog
Who notices errors
In his life
And wholes
He creates strife
And we fight
To design time
And think of ways
To rhyme
We all sing
Like a member
Of a club
That I don't want
To be a member of
And remember
Members love
Given and taken away
With good take away
And you're alone
With thoughts
of yourself
Confined to
yourself
We all sing
Like a waterfall
Of acceptance
That falls away
You search for
Your purpose
Gone astray
If you don't create
You'll loose your way
So pay your way
Pave your path
On pavement
And in basements
To make sense
We all sing
Like riddles
Who write
And trick
Your mind
Who fight
Inside
And die
Unless they write
Who feel trapped
Inside
Who've missed
Their time
Like old and dirty
Nickels and dimes
5X10
Thoughts to let in
And put down
With pen
To rest your mind
Or die sublime
By yourself or
All alone
Or joined by
With him
Who brings friends
And ropes tied
Contusion noose
And rule your roost
We all sing
Like a tourist
Who only
Loves himself
Loves the world
And himself
And only snaps
Time slots
Of tiny little reminders
We all sing
Like a forlorn lovedog
Who notices errors
In his life
And wholes
He creates strife
And we fight
To design time
And think of ways
To rhyme
We all sing
Like a member
Of a club
That I don't want
To be a member of
And remember
Members love
Given and taken away
With good take away
And you're alone
With thoughts
of yourself
Confined to
yourself
We all sing
Like a waterfall
Of acceptance
That falls away
You search for
Your purpose
Gone astray
If you don't create
You'll loose your way
So pay your way
Pave your path
On pavement
And in basements
To make sense
We all sing
Like riddles
Who write
And trick
Your mind
Who fight
Inside
And die
Unless they write
Who feel trapped
Inside
Who've missed
Their time
Like old and dirty
Nickels and dimes
5X10
Thoughts to let in
And put down
With pen
To rest your mind
Or die sublime
By yourself or
All alone
Or joined by
With him
Who brings friends
And ropes tied
Contusion noose
And rule your roost
We all sing
Monday, February 8, 2010
Oi Oi
it's only for the
it's only for the
it's only for the hardcore UK ravers!
the best of both worlds
the wurly little girl
Nick Frost!
it's only for the
it's only for the hardcore UK ravers!
the best of both worlds
the wurly little girl
Nick Frost!
Friday, January 29, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
will attempt the impossible today
today is the match the could/will take us to the top of the league and the bummer thing is that live in mother england it kicks off at 3pm which is 10 am eastern states time. since the fa cup seems to be taking precedence, only setanta us will broadcast said match on delay, which equals 3pm eastern time.
so the debate is, do i monitor online or attempt to shut off all electronic thinking devices, such as phone, twit, comp, etc, for a grand total of 5 hrs ? will be difficult, but the ultimate payoff is to watch the match in what my mind will be untainted and untouched at 3pm - successfully avoiding all scores, updates and the like. a little party with myself (eewww, kinky)
is it possible to avoid all updates in an age of hyper-connectivity updatefeaux sporadic info-influx?
w/love
so the debate is, do i monitor online or attempt to shut off all electronic thinking devices, such as phone, twit, comp, etc, for a grand total of 5 hrs ? will be difficult, but the ultimate payoff is to watch the match in what my mind will be untainted and untouched at 3pm - successfully avoiding all scores, updates and the like. a little party with myself (eewww, kinky)
is it possible to avoid all updates in an age of hyper-connectivity updatefeaux sporadic info-influx?
w/love
Thursday, January 21, 2010
this shit has the "F" word in it - such is life
Like a grizzly bear opus
Like a slithering octopus
Such is your divine right
To make the most of it
Your life that is
Is like soda pop fiz
It fizzes out
after a bit
or more likely a sip
like a miserable misfit
Unless you pour more
More Of yourself
Into that tin can meaning
The tang of a divorcee’
Held together by papier-mâché
With a world of wonder
Every “why” has a wherefore
Every whore has their heart torn
So therefore we mourn
Like a teeth less chap
Who scours a map
To find his home
His home away from them
So he can breathe
And quit the tricks
The tricks in his head
Who tease him and leave
sarcastic little comments
About his golden globe dreams
-Something that dreams mean-
Enough to cause a scene
In his imagination
You’ve fist fought the best
Now take your little chance
Your fuck you to the man
Oops a Freudian slip
Curse that evil lip
The beginning to your end
Your face in the mud
the spit to your chin
To pull yourself up
To let love in
inching closer to an end
It’s rained on you before
you scream more, more, more
Nothing more than a drip
Now cut the cord
Stop sucking the nip
Spit out that shit
you've had it with this
kick out and react
reject and hit back
And cruise,………
To the bottom of this broken barrel
every "why" has a wherefore
Like a slithering octopus
Such is your divine right
To make the most of it
Your life that is
Is like soda pop fiz
It fizzes out
after a bit
or more likely a sip
like a miserable misfit
Unless you pour more
More Of yourself
Into that tin can meaning
The tang of a divorcee’
Held together by papier-mâché
With a world of wonder
Every “why” has a wherefore
Every whore has their heart torn
So therefore we mourn
Like a teeth less chap
Who scours a map
To find his home
His home away from them
So he can breathe
And quit the tricks
The tricks in his head
Who tease him and leave
sarcastic little comments
About his golden globe dreams
-Something that dreams mean-
Enough to cause a scene
In his imagination
You’ve fist fought the best
Now take your little chance
Your fuck you to the man
Oops a Freudian slip
Curse that evil lip
The beginning to your end
Your face in the mud
the spit to your chin
To pull yourself up
To let love in
inching closer to an end
It’s rained on you before
you scream more, more, more
Nothing more than a drip
Now cut the cord
Stop sucking the nip
Spit out that shit
you've had it with this
kick out and react
reject and hit back
And cruise,………
To the bottom of this broken barrel
every "why" has a wherefore
Monday, January 18, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
lad
why do I neglect you
Why do I forget you
In this,
Our time of need
Do you fulfill my stinging desires
Do you top off my beer
With your sinister cheats
Do you shoot missiles at my planet
Do you regret our interpretation
If so,
I’ll rename you
I’ll throw out your rubbish
In the rubbish bin
With all the other trash
I read
During my day
& in MY time of need
Will you come to me
With hate & war
Like the Clash once said
Your anglo voice
This football choice
The snow and dread
The books I’ve read
While this affair
Has whored out
Our emotions
To the masses
We suffer
By laughing gases
That tease our thoughts
And bentons insights
To a rigid spell
Over coffee &
Electronic mail
This freakin vice
Like childish tikes
Who laugh and play
On their little toy bikes
It’s all a slight
A ploy to fall
A reason to fail
When we decide
The prize to win
Is when we’ll whiff
We’ll spin around
And chuffed,
We’ll sit down
And have a laugh
And sing a song
And begin to paint
A picture of a mountain top
Why do I forget you
In this,
Our time of need
Do you fulfill my stinging desires
Do you top off my beer
With your sinister cheats
Do you shoot missiles at my planet
Do you regret our interpretation
If so,
I’ll rename you
I’ll throw out your rubbish
In the rubbish bin
With all the other trash
I read
During my day
& in MY time of need
Will you come to me
With hate & war
Like the Clash once said
Your anglo voice
This football choice
The snow and dread
The books I’ve read
While this affair
Has whored out
Our emotions
To the masses
We suffer
By laughing gases
That tease our thoughts
And bentons insights
To a rigid spell
Over coffee &
Electronic mail
This freakin vice
Like childish tikes
Who laugh and play
On their little toy bikes
It’s all a slight
A ploy to fall
A reason to fail
When we decide
The prize to win
Is when we’ll whiff
We’ll spin around
And chuffed,
We’ll sit down
And have a laugh
And sing a song
And begin to paint
A picture of a mountain top
Sunday, January 3, 2010
imagine the possibilities
so we fought a bit of wind, rain, potentially lost iPhones, & ultimately a good bit of lost footage, but the little experiment we set out to conduct yielded a quasi-faux trailer for some form of b & W movie that is yet to exist. see for yourself below-but imagine the possibilities if we didn't have 9 to 5's, did have money, time and maybe even an idea or 2 ??
The Yellow Dart from Benton Edwards on Vimeo.
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