“Hater”
By Trevor Simpson
Sept. 11 2007
I'm such a fucking hater, but like that way I see it, it just doesn't make sense.
Like when I first got in to the club scene, it was eighteen and up, and everyone was trying to be a b-boy, yo but it was cool cause everyone tried to out do each other in a friendly fashion..like yo I dance better than you, or I spin better than you, or my threads are way fresher than yours. But it still is was about being part of the music, reminiscent of the raves that we grew up on.
I'm such a hater though cause then I was brought in to the 21 and up club scene and everyone was trying to be upscale. Like yo I'm gonna wear suits and burberry and have five girls on my arm, and we hate hip hop so we go to the upscale club not for the house music but because its upscale.
So i'm such a hater cause these guys all paid my rent, but I was like yo, I'm 22 and fresh, I'm not upscale I'm a rock star. So Enrique and I go out or our way to change or styles, the way we dress, old school rocker ts and hells anges shirts, and we throw fucking rockstar parties where people can just wild out and love the house music, but it was more real, it was who we are. And the girls loved it, the fashion shows, the hottest go go dancers, all the you party crowd would come out... I'm not upscale I'm a rockstar, except for the benz maybe.
So then the upscale crowd looses momentum so they have to like bind together and hate on us like you guys are trashy and were upscale, But I'm such a hater cause when I go to the quote un quote upscale parties, all I see is used car sales men spending all their money on designer clothes and bottle service like yo, were upscale. And I'm such a hater cause I think to my self...dude real fucking rich people don't go to club you fucking idiots...i'm such a hater.
So then our parties keep getting bigger and bigger and one day I notice that everyone is rocking there ed hard or affliction t-shirt and rocker jeans with bandannas and i'm like yo! fuck now everyone looks like me, so i went preppy cause I'm such a hater, but I look fresh in a florescent pink polo like kanye west and shit...anyway
So then I blow up and I get hated on like yo, you're mainstream, and were underground. And I'm such a hater cause i'm like fool when did you ever get arrested for throwing an underground party, when did you get fined by the police for putting flyers on cars. And I'm such a hater cause I'm like dude your'e a fucking dj, your job is to express yourself while pleasing the most amount of people you can and spreading dance music...and i get, well you just play hit after hit that's not djing, you gotta be underground...and I'm such a hater cause i'm like hey douche bag, I'm the music director for the only successful dance music radio station in a top ten market...those records weren't hits until I played them on the radio every day for thousands of people and made them hits...what impact have you had on this city except to make some pretty girls walk in to hear you play and get so board that they decide they hate "techno"
Wow I'm such a hater, I gotta work on that. Cause the truth is, this beat is all we have. This beat isn't trying to be anything it's not. This beat isn't trying to impress anybody. This beat dosn't care if you love it or hate it. This beat isn't electro or trance or drum and base or tech house or ghetto or progressive or minimal. This beat just is. It's so much more than we are because it has no ego, it doesn't want to be liked or loved, it doesn't set rules, people don't speak or kill on behalf of it, and it makes the people that believe in it genuinely happy. I'm such a hater, I could learn a lot from this beat.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Inspired by Documentary "Freestyle"
Yes...Indeed, indeed dee da dee day
Come to play
From Oakland to LA
"Up in 'hneaahre'" is what dey say
OKAY
Ohhright
White boy?!
Damn dem rhymes be tight...
Tight like clothes lines
Hung out to to dry like beef jerky
But dont come wit no beef to me...jerk (e)
Ive been from Miami to Jersey
Sporting Brasilian soccer jeresys
Bahia to Gremio, grab me a game...damn boy lets go
To the 'Baile Funke' show...
And when Im rockin my Flamengo...i be representin Ri-O!
Lets do it my way, rock the white and black
forever my love Olympia of of PARAGUAY!
Cant nobody hurt me
Except sticks and stones
Cause they break bones
Like my rhymes break micraphones
Spittin illmatic shit back forth like
PALINDROMES!
My toxic rhymes--
Bringing hurricanes that knock down Superdomes
Shrunk like gnomes
Allover globes, like my wandering sole
Wherever it lands
Is where the Great White Hyphy's gonna stand
Like on demand>
Spittin flows...in my bath robe
Steamy showers, last about an hour
Getting clean, makin shit
Steam
Etch-i-sketchin my dream
Shake to erase
Erase the face
That gave you this Rhyme
Cause for the last time
I come with clocks
To knock you off your socks
Knock you off you Socks
Like Yankees and Red Sox
Rivalries like tic tock
Hopin for the pick off
And hope to win the series
And lose to the Braves
National League, representin, Hella Brave
Now the Hunger gots to Stave
Off like light switches
Switchin like switch hitters
Swapin like swingers
And always comin ill that American Idol SINGERS!!!
BOOYACACHAÇA
Come to play
From Oakland to LA
"Up in 'hneaahre'" is what dey say
OKAY
Ohhright
White boy?!
Damn dem rhymes be tight...
Tight like clothes lines
Hung out to to dry like beef jerky
But dont come wit no beef to me...jerk (e)
Ive been from Miami to Jersey
Sporting Brasilian soccer jeresys
Bahia to Gremio, grab me a game...damn boy lets go
To the 'Baile Funke' show...
And when Im rockin my Flamengo...i be representin Ri-O!
Lets do it my way, rock the white and black
forever my love Olympia of of PARAGUAY!
Cant nobody hurt me
Except sticks and stones
Cause they break bones
Like my rhymes break micraphones
Spittin illmatic shit back forth like
PALINDROMES!
My toxic rhymes--
Bringing hurricanes that knock down Superdomes
Shrunk like gnomes
Allover globes, like my wandering sole
Wherever it lands
Is where the Great White Hyphy's gonna stand
Like on demand>
Spittin flows...in my bath robe
Steamy showers, last about an hour
Getting clean, makin shit
Steam
Etch-i-sketchin my dream
Shake to erase
Erase the face
That gave you this Rhyme
Cause for the last time
I come with clocks
To knock you off your socks
Knock you off you Socks
Like Yankees and Red Sox
Rivalries like tic tock
Hopin for the pick off
And hope to win the series
And lose to the Braves
National League, representin, Hella Brave
Now the Hunger gots to Stave
Off like light switches
Switchin like switch hitters
Swapin like swingers
And always comin ill that American Idol SINGERS!!!
BOOYACACHAÇA
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Thank you Saul
Put Trent Reznor and Saul Williams together...I think its a dangerous combo of incomprehensible genious...
http://www.ilovemusicvideo.net/artist/Saul+Williams
Untimely Meditations lyrics
The fiery sun of my passions evaporates the love lakes of my soul
clouds my thoughts and rains you into existence as i take flight on
bolts of lighting claiming chaos as my concubine and you as my me i of
the storm you of the sea we of the moon land of the free what have i
done to deserve this? am i happy? happiness is a mediocre sin set for
a middle-class existence i see through smiles and smell truth in the
distance beyond one dimensional smiles and laughter lies are hereafter
where tears echo laughter you’d have to do math to divide a smile by a
tear times fear equals mere truth. i simply delve in the air and if that’s
the case, all i have to breath and all else will follow, that’s why drums
are hollow, and i like drums drums are good but i cant think straight i
lack the attention span to meditate my attention spans galaxies here
and now are immense seconds are secular, moments are mine, self is
illusion, music’s divine. noosed by the strings of jimmy’s guitar i swing
purple hazed pendulum hypnotizing the part of i that never dies, look
into my eyes are the windows of the soul. it’s fried chicken collies and
cornbread, its corn milk flour sour cream eggs and oil. its the stolen
blood of the earth, used to make cars run and kill the fish. who me? i
play scales. the scales of dead fish of oil slicked seas my sister blows
wind through the hollows of fallen tress and we are the echoes of
eternity, echoes of eternity, echoes of eternity maybe you heard of us,
we do rebirths, revokes and resurrections we threw basement parties in
pyramids, i left my tag on the wall, the beats would echo of the stone
and solidify into the form of light bulbs, destined to light of the heads
of future generations they’re releasing it up in the form of ohm. Maybe
you heard of us. If not then you must be trying to hear us, in such
cases we can’t be heard we remain in the darkness unseen, in the
center of unpeeled bananas we exist uncolored by perception, clothed
to the naked eye, five senses cannot sense the fact of our existence
and that's the only fact, in fact there are no facts, fax me a fact and i’ll
telegram i’ll hologram i’ll telephone the son of man and tell him he is
done. leave a message on his answering machine telling him there are
none. god and i are one. times moon times star times sun, the factor is
me, you remember me, i slung amethyst rocks on saturn blocks ‘til i
got caught up by earthling cops. they wanted me for their army or
whatever. picture me, i swirl like the wind tempting tomorrow to be
today, tiptoing the fine line between everything and everything else. i
am simply saturn swirling sevenths through sooth the sole living air of
air and I, and, and all else follows. reverberating the space inside of
drum hollows. package and bottles and chips and tomorrow then sold
to the highest nigga. i swing to the tallest tree, lynched by the lowest
branches of me, praying that my physical will set me free cause i’m
afraid that all else is vanity mere language is profanity, i’d rather hum
or have my soul tattooed to my tongue and let the scriptures be sung
in gibberish as words be simple fish in my soulquarium. and intellect
can’t swim so i stopped combing my mind so my thoughts could lock.
i’m tired of trying to understand. perceptions are mangled matted and
knotted anyway. life is more than what meet the eye and I, so elevate I
to the third and even that shit seems absurd and your thoughts leave
you third (eye)solated. no man is an island but i often feel alone, so i
find peace through OM.
www.saulwilliams.com
http://www.ilovemusicvideo.net/artist/Saul+Williams
Untimely Meditations lyrics
The fiery sun of my passions evaporates the love lakes of my soul
clouds my thoughts and rains you into existence as i take flight on
bolts of lighting claiming chaos as my concubine and you as my me i of
the storm you of the sea we of the moon land of the free what have i
done to deserve this? am i happy? happiness is a mediocre sin set for
a middle-class existence i see through smiles and smell truth in the
distance beyond one dimensional smiles and laughter lies are hereafter
where tears echo laughter you’d have to do math to divide a smile by a
tear times fear equals mere truth. i simply delve in the air and if that’s
the case, all i have to breath and all else will follow, that’s why drums
are hollow, and i like drums drums are good but i cant think straight i
lack the attention span to meditate my attention spans galaxies here
and now are immense seconds are secular, moments are mine, self is
illusion, music’s divine. noosed by the strings of jimmy’s guitar i swing
purple hazed pendulum hypnotizing the part of i that never dies, look
into my eyes are the windows of the soul. it’s fried chicken collies and
cornbread, its corn milk flour sour cream eggs and oil. its the stolen
blood of the earth, used to make cars run and kill the fish. who me? i
play scales. the scales of dead fish of oil slicked seas my sister blows
wind through the hollows of fallen tress and we are the echoes of
eternity, echoes of eternity, echoes of eternity maybe you heard of us,
we do rebirths, revokes and resurrections we threw basement parties in
pyramids, i left my tag on the wall, the beats would echo of the stone
and solidify into the form of light bulbs, destined to light of the heads
of future generations they’re releasing it up in the form of ohm. Maybe
you heard of us. If not then you must be trying to hear us, in such
cases we can’t be heard we remain in the darkness unseen, in the
center of unpeeled bananas we exist uncolored by perception, clothed
to the naked eye, five senses cannot sense the fact of our existence
and that's the only fact, in fact there are no facts, fax me a fact and i’ll
telegram i’ll hologram i’ll telephone the son of man and tell him he is
done. leave a message on his answering machine telling him there are
none. god and i are one. times moon times star times sun, the factor is
me, you remember me, i slung amethyst rocks on saturn blocks ‘til i
got caught up by earthling cops. they wanted me for their army or
whatever. picture me, i swirl like the wind tempting tomorrow to be
today, tiptoing the fine line between everything and everything else. i
am simply saturn swirling sevenths through sooth the sole living air of
air and I, and, and all else follows. reverberating the space inside of
drum hollows. package and bottles and chips and tomorrow then sold
to the highest nigga. i swing to the tallest tree, lynched by the lowest
branches of me, praying that my physical will set me free cause i’m
afraid that all else is vanity mere language is profanity, i’d rather hum
or have my soul tattooed to my tongue and let the scriptures be sung
in gibberish as words be simple fish in my soulquarium. and intellect
can’t swim so i stopped combing my mind so my thoughts could lock.
i’m tired of trying to understand. perceptions are mangled matted and
knotted anyway. life is more than what meet the eye and I, so elevate I
to the third and even that shit seems absurd and your thoughts leave
you third (eye)solated. no man is an island but i often feel alone, so i
find peace through OM.
www.saulwilliams.com
Friday, June 8, 2007
Preview-GWH
Gotta post this ish a little bit early by my patnah in crime..Hollan-Daze:
cynically speaking I reek of money and good breeding
politically speaking I'm like Obama– left leaning
meaning this beaming stream
of no meaning
is either a beacon of hope
or dark scheming
been meaning to preen my dreams
of their excess fiendishness
a kind of mental spring clean
the thing it this–
It's the dark side of life that makes the light side lighter
lighter side like comic strips, daphodiles and toddlers
and the light side of life is a miracle
don't fear it bro
it's spiritual
embrace it yo
feel it all
ova ya bodee
like a long shower or a sip of tea
just look at me
I used to be a nihilist
and now I'm free
DAMN!
cynically speaking I reek of money and good breeding
politically speaking I'm like Obama– left leaning
meaning this beaming stream
of no meaning
is either a beacon of hope
or dark scheming
been meaning to preen my dreams
of their excess fiendishness
a kind of mental spring clean
the thing it this–
It's the dark side of life that makes the light side lighter
lighter side like comic strips, daphodiles and toddlers
and the light side of life is a miracle
don't fear it bro
it's spiritual
embrace it yo
feel it all
ova ya bodee
like a long shower or a sip of tea
just look at me
I used to be a nihilist
and now I'm free
DAMN!
Monday, May 28, 2007
Distinguish
Thinking of a day that is soon to come...
And not knowing where these thoughts come from
But they must come from somewhere
And they will always come from somewhere over there
Thoughts of love that distinguish a man
And distinguish a man only love can
23.07.2002
Thursday, May 3, 2007
"Etched in Stone"
In my zen rock graden, I have a stone that has the phrase "Nothing is etched in stone" etched in it. Just want to hear your thoughts on that....
Meaningless Metaphors 3-02-2007
I passively attack delicate matters with sledge hammers and smash them like windows on golf courses with seven irons on Sundays.
I speak in ridiculous oxymorons to juxtapose the reality that we are surrounded by elected morons who go off of unconfirmed evidence they supposed.
I often hide in the shadows cause I hate to expose the fact that each waking moment adds inspiration for my prose.
A writer with secrets only my notebook knows
Like shredded CIA documents filed in top secret rows.
My blood line blotted and bottled from a stranger, Ive never seen anything stranger--like allahs son Jesus raised in a manger...
These lies only grow.
Forced into an ubiquitous mystery of misery, I stare down and walk aimlessly
Off center I begin to spill coffee in my hungover state like a struggling poet
Tattered leather couches, wandering souls, headaches--I have no idea where my house is.
Slicing through butter like hot knives through sticky sausages heated by microwaves.
I allude to obscurity and fill up on verbal obesity served on silver platters
Often dwelling on things that dont really matter...or do they?
My house is now falling the noises the clatter, it bothers me, it shatters my brain.
Into pieces
And when that happens I get so excited I prance on sofas
like Tom Cruise on Oprah
I look like
With fleeting feeling I get thinking there is hope--uh...
...I really dont know
Monday, April 30, 2007
Pinned Like a Butterfly
I feel like a butterfly push-pinned to a velvet wall flapping to get free
So beautiful in its struggle, yet hopeless, trapped, and waiting so desperately
But with my wings clipped I cannot fly among the sinking rays of the broken sky—the sun shattered into pieces bringing darkness
There I lay in my abyss amongst carpeted blackness and I begin to know the truth to what I truly miss
Like the blink of an eye where in that instant you missed the only glimpse of pure bliss—Found on this green earth…
but its not so green anymore
Like the touch of a beautiful queen, pushed into you on the street…holding her boyfriends hand, but you caught her sight…For just one eternal instant her eyes met yours and the scarlet letter A blinded her and made you turn away
Then, holding your breath only to exhale her thoughts and become in tune to her rhythm as you lie next to each other in bed—tired but not willing to drift into dreary distance of sleep because our harmonious gasps for air have become intertwined and we feel as though we are divine
Like closing your eyes as if it were for the last time and replaying all the beauty in this world
Because your beauty made me walk down endless desert roads without water
And your beauty made me climb the highest peaks without oxygen.
Your beauty made me dive to the deepest depth gasping for one last breath…one last breath of you…exhaled…but now I am blind
I took in all the beauty of the world for one last glimpse of you
But you left me with just that vision and now I’m like a vagabond on your voyage freely floating around on this globe searching for one last breath of you
Its like playing cards where you have four aces I lost against with a pair of twos
The adrenaline pumps as my heart races
Lost in the valleys of wide open spaces
Where, glacial tills erode our history and wash away a path along my hearts misery
There you will forever be enshrined as the alpin-glow lights illuminate the way
Questions bleed from my veins hoping to wake up another day
And as my chest grows beyond your absence--I might as well become abstinate, I cant go on with these lies…I cant go on with this disguise, I want to just take one last look and for the last time… close my eyes
So beautiful in its struggle, yet hopeless, trapped, and waiting so desperately
But with my wings clipped I cannot fly among the sinking rays of the broken sky—the sun shattered into pieces bringing darkness
There I lay in my abyss amongst carpeted blackness and I begin to know the truth to what I truly miss
Like the blink of an eye where in that instant you missed the only glimpse of pure bliss—Found on this green earth…
but its not so green anymore
Like the touch of a beautiful queen, pushed into you on the street…holding her boyfriends hand, but you caught her sight…For just one eternal instant her eyes met yours and the scarlet letter A blinded her and made you turn away
Then, holding your breath only to exhale her thoughts and become in tune to her rhythm as you lie next to each other in bed—tired but not willing to drift into dreary distance of sleep because our harmonious gasps for air have become intertwined and we feel as though we are divine
Like closing your eyes as if it were for the last time and replaying all the beauty in this world
Because your beauty made me walk down endless desert roads without water
And your beauty made me climb the highest peaks without oxygen.
Your beauty made me dive to the deepest depth gasping for one last breath…one last breath of you…exhaled…but now I am blind
I took in all the beauty of the world for one last glimpse of you
But you left me with just that vision and now I’m like a vagabond on your voyage freely floating around on this globe searching for one last breath of you
Its like playing cards where you have four aces I lost against with a pair of twos
The adrenaline pumps as my heart races
Lost in the valleys of wide open spaces
Where, glacial tills erode our history and wash away a path along my hearts misery
There you will forever be enshrined as the alpin-glow lights illuminate the way
Questions bleed from my veins hoping to wake up another day
And as my chest grows beyond your absence--I might as well become abstinate, I cant go on with these lies…I cant go on with this disguise, I want to just take one last look and for the last time… close my eyes
Creative Crayola Colors
I got a box of crayons…
But my box of crayons doesn’t contain those creative Crayola colors like chamomile brown that we all remember from our younger years
It doesn’t have that-- school bus yellow we used to paint those big bright suns in our stick figure family portraits
Yea, we all thought were masterpieces--with the brick red house and platinum blonde haired family standing happily on the forest green grass
My box of crayons is full of colors of the world that we see today, each and every day
Unfortunately, they aren’t the original creative Crayola colors such as my favorite: purple mountain majesties, or the classic macaroni and cheese
My box of crayons consists of colors like: heartbroken grey and fuck Valentines Day
To me, the once popular purple pizzazz blends well with the new governmental favorite terrorist alert orange
Shaded by the popular preemptive purple we find ourselves filling with fucked by Bush Black
And forget the days of lime green and vivid tangerine
I’ve replaced those with where is the democratic party blue and lung cancer nicotine
There are, of course, the poetic crayons that paint the pictures of this globe
Sunset orange, radiant red, tantalizing turquoise and Beautiful Brazilian blue
But all those have been replaced with American Airlines pilot finger flicking fuck you
Constitutional lies yellow goes nicely with media manipulated maroon
Soon enough we will all end up like the WTF mate cartoon
…Fucking kangaroo brown
Governmental globalization mahogany pollutes the once popular peaceful periwinkle
Atomic Middle East accents well with al Quaida orange
So why don’t we just color destiny with clash of civilizations mahogany
Anyways, lets check the black and white and read all over fabricated news
With endless references to Michael Jackson child molesting baby blue
Or how about scarlet letters paint the way for Kobe Bryant yellow
Because that’s just arbitrary orange
We need to see more colors like humanitarian aid green
And blush from a first kiss excitement rush
The colors of the rainbow have brought us to the brink
Like creating an amendment prohibiting gay marriage pink…
Angry adolescent youths prefer the popular color of my opinion doesn’t matter
And people below the poverty level have way too much I ain’t getting none of that green
Whereas president Bush’s sidekicks are rolling around in reconstruction red
Halliburton yellow and Arthur Anderson orange are building and accounting for our future
Fuscia’s fury is now green with envy
And Oscar winning gold sees a terrorist frenzy
Creative Crayola colors that were once so divine, have come to see their dreams decline
But--on a lighter note…Nike shox are coming out with their new spring line
But my box of crayons doesn’t contain those creative Crayola colors like chamomile brown that we all remember from our younger years
It doesn’t have that-- school bus yellow we used to paint those big bright suns in our stick figure family portraits
Yea, we all thought were masterpieces--with the brick red house and platinum blonde haired family standing happily on the forest green grass
My box of crayons is full of colors of the world that we see today, each and every day
Unfortunately, they aren’t the original creative Crayola colors such as my favorite: purple mountain majesties, or the classic macaroni and cheese
My box of crayons consists of colors like: heartbroken grey and fuck Valentines Day
To me, the once popular purple pizzazz blends well with the new governmental favorite terrorist alert orange
Shaded by the popular preemptive purple we find ourselves filling with fucked by Bush Black
And forget the days of lime green and vivid tangerine
I’ve replaced those with where is the democratic party blue and lung cancer nicotine
There are, of course, the poetic crayons that paint the pictures of this globe
Sunset orange, radiant red, tantalizing turquoise and Beautiful Brazilian blue
But all those have been replaced with American Airlines pilot finger flicking fuck you
Constitutional lies yellow goes nicely with media manipulated maroon
Soon enough we will all end up like the WTF mate cartoon
…Fucking kangaroo brown
Governmental globalization mahogany pollutes the once popular peaceful periwinkle
Atomic Middle East accents well with al Quaida orange
So why don’t we just color destiny with clash of civilizations mahogany
Anyways, lets check the black and white and read all over fabricated news
With endless references to Michael Jackson child molesting baby blue
Or how about scarlet letters paint the way for Kobe Bryant yellow
Because that’s just arbitrary orange
We need to see more colors like humanitarian aid green
And blush from a first kiss excitement rush
The colors of the rainbow have brought us to the brink
Like creating an amendment prohibiting gay marriage pink…
Angry adolescent youths prefer the popular color of my opinion doesn’t matter
And people below the poverty level have way too much I ain’t getting none of that green
Whereas president Bush’s sidekicks are rolling around in reconstruction red
Halliburton yellow and Arthur Anderson orange are building and accounting for our future
Fuscia’s fury is now green with envy
And Oscar winning gold sees a terrorist frenzy
Creative Crayola colors that were once so divine, have come to see their dreams decline
But--on a lighter note…Nike shox are coming out with their new spring line
Friday, April 27, 2007
Meaningless Metaphors
This blog will be a place where I can store and share my poetry, the poetry of others and the things that inspire me: past, present and future.
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