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Saturday, May 3, 2014

I Am Immortal



I Am Immortal
.................. for Paul Ryan
.
I might as well admit it. Nobody
gets out of here without the
rest of us. Which means we're
looking at a long goddamn haul. ...
On a more personal note,
that means in plain English:
we'll be dragging you, friend,
and paying the freight for it,
all the way. To keep accounts
current, as an update to the
cost/benefit analysis ongoing,
I should probably say: Paul,
I don't have the least problem with
that, uh, recent thing, the problem
“we” have in “our” inner cities,
you know, with those men, and
their “culture;” sheeit, man...
their lack of a deep and
meaningful involvement
with, you know, like, “work”...
it nearly equals my own. Even yours,
for that matter. But, hey, my brutha,
that is, homie, dude-ski, my man,
I gotta say it, if I were you, and if
MY bitches wouldn't or couldn't
bring home “bacon” sufficient to
the day, that is, stuff enuff to keep
the crib cush and cozy, I wouldn't
go around admitting to it. That shit
takes some real, well, it's not balls,
it can't be that, given your...um,
I mean, due to... well, never mind.
But you know it, as well as any of us,
that's sure not the reason.
WTF, holmes, it must just be
the damn and downright simple;
and to be fair, I've got to give credit,
willingly, where and when it's due:
so, though it does for sure goddamn well
boggle the mind to consider it, I think
we've got to accept the facts when
they're plain. It must be, can only be:
you’re even dumber than you look.

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