tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53677778627159655352024-02-06T18:15:14.147-08:00Meaningless MetaphorsA poetry blog of life, love, happiness and everything in between...just think about it...Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-77406249765824350622009-10-05T15:42:00.000-07:002009-10-05T15:57:16.777-07:00The Road Behind us as we travel FORword“The road behind us as we travel forward:”<br /><br />We can look back along the dusty path, two roads diverged from an urban jungle…<br />A spork in the road.<br />A path chosen that leads through ideas, innovation and technology<br />Strife, struggle, impulse, revolution—a superior risotto eating utensil<br />Documentation of all this somehow…and then we wonder.<br />A life full of wonder, a WONDERFUL life.<br />Can we SOLVE or DISSOLVE?<br />Financial planning problem solving dissolved like sea salt in Brita filtered water<br />To a history forgotten…but still exists, CAPITALISMO!<br />Unfair free trade, fair trade comes at is costs.<br />A new beginning in a culmination of progress<br />Powerful ideas.<br />Put to rest.<br />Come to life!<br />Because…“There is nothing more POWERFUL than an idea whose TIME has COME!<br />Jesus laughs as Buddha weeps<br />Both all knowing omniscient unconscious synonyms: Sun/God, ignorance is common, above antonyms, are just the norm, underground synonyms, then peace, now war.<br />Parallels…like train tracks, but what causes train wrecks?<br />Derails—freedom from the track.<br />Free by any means, freedom, it means!<br />Yesterday I was sitting at an infamous dive bar staring at its red bricks.<br />Realizing I never really read books.<br />I read Inscriptions on the wall<br />Red ink messages engraved on red bricks.<br />I continued to read.<br />Two question marks the spot <br />¿Que?<br />“X “marks the spot?<br />“What?”<br />And exclamations, the way its read, or the way we read it, or the color red. <br />Read red words on red bricks and tell your friends red bricked stories and how you read them on red bricks.<br />Tangible thoughts coming to life expectancy glistened…like morning dew drops—Listened…<br />Like she wanted me to…<br />Shooting stars in the distance dancing across our milky way<br />And…today I’ve FOUND my way! <br />But tomorrow I walk on longer, windy roads, leading to windy desert oases. <br />Windy windy roads of frosted memories. <br />Jogging to stay in shape, and remembering that just jogged my memory…<br />FIGMENTS of imagination, creating a MANIFESTATION OF THE PEACE<br /> Is just one puzzle piece.<br />Please offer silence, one piece at a time.<br />Or, offer peace please.<br />Feel and seal the deal, our rights are freedom of thought, freedom to WRITE!<br /> Though thought without the “t” its just a conjunction I propose a position<br />An omission of prose, cause I forgot the “T’s” in though(t)s {those} THOUGH’T’S, <br />So I guess they weren’t really THOSE THOUGHTS!<br />Y<br />Existe un momento…to feel an emotion entre tiempo y espacio…<br />Space vs. Time<br />¿Pero cuantos….e quando? <br />Tangible vs. Intangible <br />Nonsensical pain and pleasure: enlightenment nirvana, black white, suffering and non suffering…all…possible…Even plausible!<br />Sitting ovations oddly applausable.<br />Performances appeasable, palpable, edible and even palatable.<br />We will always have love and sacrifice…<br />Are you afraid, or a frayed knot? <br /> I am NOT afraid. <br />You are a knot tied to the pillars of untangled tangible philosophies neglected by people who never quite respected your analogies<br />Monologues are left unspoken to be read in your secret diaries. <br />Burn the edges to seal in security. Lock out insecurity. <br />No longer a frayed knot.<br />No longer afraid, I am NOT.<br /><br />By Trent Hartman, Meaningless Metaphors <br />“The road behind us as we travel forward”<br />A Compilation of collected metaphorical nonsense: 9/29/09<br />A member of the Vetted Word Community: “Poets Wanted”<br /><br /><img src=http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs204.snc1/7133_164278285434_144131950434_4136464_915133_n.jpg>Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-17582277555019787462009-07-10T15:41:00.000-07:002009-07-10T15:42:04.404-07:00GorgeousYou're gorgeous...<br />But not that melancholy self loathing I wish I had you--<br />Love poem tantalizing unattainable...<br />No.<br />You are gorgeous!<br />Oh so sweet like mango juices pumping through veins of deliciousness<br />Intrinsic within<br />Self Reason<br />Crimes against personal <br />Treason<br />To think otherwise<br />No surprise<br />Time suspended <br />upside-down <br />Like sunrise...<br />Love repeated.Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-54857531979612730672009-03-20T12:48:00.000-07:002009-03-20T12:49:33.190-07:00Coffee PresidentI Like My Coffee How I Like My Presidents<br /><br />by Trent Hartman<br /><br /><a href="http://vettedword.com/meaninglessmetaphors.aspx"></a><br /> <br /><br />I like my coffee how I like my Presidents. Shade grown in Indonesia and cultivated on the hills of pacific islands, or grown by ancestors in the heartland of Kenya, the cradle of human civilization. Picked, dried and roasted by hand on what were once large coca fields, now running profitable organic ventures. I like my coffee like I like my President, drinking it first thing in the morning and digested with a glimmer of freedom knowing that is why I am a citizen of this world.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Fairly Traded to be consumed by an alleged free market from all parts of the world sometimes for $4.28 a cup. A marked up price attempted possibly batched by a bad barista, or so inorganically streamlined that you are assured it will get your day going. Or served from your<br /><br />favorite cafe, by your best friend and barista who creates a simple cup of joe into a masterpiece. A delicious latte with a good friend, profound, articulate and innovative conversation to spark ideas that caress your eagerness to follow your dreams. I like my coffee like I like my Presidents, shared with cobblers and tailors, artists and CEOs at cafes around the world, short pulled espresso shots or hot and sweet like a Cuban cigar, sticky and dark like a Turkish or mastered to perfection with a small hand crafted dessert morsel.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I like my coffee like I like my President, economically bailed out or not, I still need it everyday, all day, and even sometimes at night, its the reassuring blend of filtered and roasted goodness that I am addicted to. <br /><br /> <br /><br />I like my coffee how I like my Presidents, black, bold and in the morning!<br /><br /><br /><img src=http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1052/1389119724_9231b8d780.jpg><br /><br /> <br /><br />-- Trent Hartman<br /> Meaningless MetaphorsHolistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-16262597157473021842009-01-28T12:32:00.001-08:002009-01-28T12:32:10.911-08:00a love poem.Resonating profoundly among boundless empires of our desires purges the urge of simple words<br /><br />Placed on a pages to provoke unexpected visual provocation, to you my invocation:<br /><br />A blessed and sacred and subtle temptation of words with recognition of our prize possession<br /><br />A benediction more delicious than two forms of eggs benedict; blessed by holy water and mixed in bottomless vats of crystalline champaign bubbles bubbles toils and recoils all insignificant troubles.<br /><br />Do you still want the illusion of unspoken conversations, the unlocking of secrets and adherence of communication?<br /><br />To break down barriers and be the barer of my best kept secret...<br /><br />Secrets kept best...<br /><br />Quiet walks and silent sleepless nights, nostalgia of procrastination, time and solitude.<br /><br />Clarity. <br /><br />Simplicity.<br /><br />Penetrating unforeseen barriers so deep in the drudges of desire that transcendence itself seems to have no merit more than a simple word, enlightenment.<br /><br />The light in you shines so bright it lights the light in me as you begin to enlighten me so vividly and proudly.<br /><br />My truth, unobstructed by ego. And you...so pretty.<br /><br />Contradictions so benevolent they spray unadulterated dreams of insight unseen to any manipulated mess of manifested blurriness.<br /><br />And to this I confess.<br /><br />Love.<br /><br />Pure in its form.<br /><br />Unlike any other. <br /><br />Like pristine rain drops on glistening concrete streets...<br /><br />Insomnia?<br /><br />I lay awake late at night with no one watching is if semi discreet--<br /><br />fantasies of you as I sleep, but battling nothing as my wants and needs are complete.<br /><br />A Neo-Exestential outlook on something so essential, it must be...<br /><br />DAR FAR<br /><br />Virgo Nihilist using your words to compile this manifestation of unaltered ART.<br /><br />Come TRAVEL with me. Wine. Warmth, Giving and Receiving--<br /><br />Exceeding<br /><br />All expectations met and yet...<br /><br />Im still falling...<br /><br />Falling...<br /><br />F<br />A<br />L<br />L<br />I<br />N<br />G<br />inlovewithYOU!Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-57015758668772133942008-12-05T00:12:00.000-08:002008-12-05T00:14:51.227-08:00Live Love LiveWith or without $<br /> its all the same<br />Happiness to protect<br />Freedom to achieve<br /> Define<br /> ask<br /> Reflect<br /> Listen & Learn<br /> YEARN<br /> Live Love LiveHolistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-72181035047692458972008-11-18T10:47:00.001-08:002008-11-18T10:47:53.483-08:00Meaningless Quote...<span style="font-style:italic;">"There are men who can write poetry, and there are men who can read balance sheets. The men who can read balance sheets cannot write." </span><br />-Henry R. LuceHolistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-11448769769540168142008-10-10T16:51:00.000-07:002008-10-10T17:06:43.419-07:00The Modernism Prism1the modernism prism...<br />1<br />1 like thoughts put down to rest.<br />1 OR, unadulteRated R Rated<br />1 cynical freedom of the press.<br />1 Reflected and Refracted<br />1 Precisely sliced-<br />1 Like a surgeon...<br />1 <br />1 Extracted<br />1<br />1 Like dictators<br />1 limiting.<br />1 morals<br />1 AND<br />1 religion.<br />1 Controlled.<br />1 Like dice rolled<br />1 pit bosses and house favoured <br />1 ODDS.<br />1 In at life's odds <br />1 Strife.<br />1 Excite.d.<br />1 Adventure.s.<br />1 Repent<br />1 Confess<br />1 -or-<br />1 Believe<br />1 and<br />1 Achieve!<br />1 <br />1<br />one.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvs7rMoPyhEMlcn6JRQi5lb3xfJFO5uNF8mdO1nsjBCST_ojXMvsUr1TKSgezgpqHljIpjexMaRm86MHTmoAfwJXWHzci6n9ONY5bx11ZE8N_8DvPgdXQnDRn1O4okzW9RlHLzH6dBSmy1/s1600-h/DSCN0416.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvs7rMoPyhEMlcn6JRQi5lb3xfJFO5uNF8mdO1nsjBCST_ojXMvsUr1TKSgezgpqHljIpjexMaRm86MHTmoAfwJXWHzci6n9ONY5bx11ZE8N_8DvPgdXQnDRn1O4okzW9RlHLzH6dBSmy1/s400/DSCN0416.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255680440041766962" /></a><br /><br />10-23-2007Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-18576543369917166862008-08-25T10:53:00.000-07:002008-09-27T18:51:49.795-07:00If love is blind...If love is blind...<br><a ..="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vMi5icC5ibG9nc3BvdC5jb20vX2FsbUNhMDFySHBnL1NMTHdjYnNFVXdJL0FBQUFBQUFBQVdvL1lVOUpKSlFtejMwL3MxNjAwLWgvRFNDRjAwMDcuSlBH"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiolZUAVset1jw-_CxYxAyviVKsS4hQ6FhpJSanPz6nRIQan6w73f1g-hQo2AGdsVWLB_PVttF_-j_kVaJ0yyKYES7SvQ2cq6-BL3Y-PJiWsnsH_kV5Tbda3xZBqMtxoGVEY1Izl6uNECBL/s200/DSCF0007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238513687844901634" /></a><br><br><a ..="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vNC5icC5ibG9nc3BvdC5jb20vX2FsbUNhMDFySHBnL1NMTHdoNFlZd3ZJL0FBQUFBQUFBQVd3L3NFTVZDMUdTMUZNL3MxNjAwLWgvRFNDRjAwMDguSlBH"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5dp5IsXbV4gywzw6znsf4AZWB0SS7PYhMUstdO4uIJRwbUFac1x1caE8qwIkh76-JFA0uPP_kQnIhDF2j6WznUusn1hx5m2dmUK-n9HShob_dc2GkdDHwAM9Lb-bpQ5UwA9Qw90frvi73/s200/DSCF0008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238513781446329074" /></a><br><br><br>...then who will listen to the deaf?Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-56782707941054254382008-07-24T22:46:00.000-07:002008-07-29T18:25:27.559-07:00"Passed and Past: 'Butterfly Pushed Sequel'"*meaningless*metaphors*<br /><br /><br />Back on track I feel as though these canvass streets have led me astray...today.<br />I once felt like a butterfly pushpinned on velvet wall for all to display<br />Carved out of the wood block of what they like to call reality's fallacy<br />I felt as though my wings were snipped, clipped, punctured battered and bruised that led me to a period not just more than confused…<br /><br />…but now that seems like a mere yesterday.<br /><br />Despite my plight I flew relentlessly amongst that broken sky , <br />pushpinned needles tore through treacherous terrors that charred my wingspan<br />And on that once and pondered day I looked down into an abyss of carpedted darkness…<br />Only to know the truths of what I truly miss…<br /><br />But now its bliss, rebirth with a one start charcoal kiss<br />I now see from above that carpeted blanket of a deep abyss one that I used to truly miss, passing in the darkness as I sore towards new days with fresh suns rays<br /><br />A glance at sunshine that diminishes in a cloudy haze<br />The kind that falls so blindly and screams relentlessly to deaf ears--<br />and those tears drip dreary relentlessness matters of abstract realities…<br />Scared, screaming…fears that no one seems to hear <br /> that no one seems to hear<br /> That NO ONE seems to…be here…for me, or you?<br /> ...and even then they still they tend to go unnoticed...<br /><br />Now flying high in the pristine sky I can finally sense your five senses <br />Sensing me to sense something...sense something Wrong and begin to convey your subtle messages to the tune of a Siren's songs <br />But masked by your beauty I played your tune out of key<br />Lost one finger and my nine nails inch along the treble cleffs like blind lemmings led to miracles to see<br />Guided like the Titanic lost at sea...Its hard for me to Vitamin C...<br /><br />Beacons of lighthouse hope arise preminitions around those fluttering ambitions...<br /><br />Will I EVER be heard or just remain in the buffalo herd nibbling on grassy knolls inhaling inhibitions for the world to see my hopeless exhibitions<br />And each bite has an impact that intertwines in a seemless cycle that never seems to repeat exact<br />Never repeats exactly…in the same manner cause FUCK all your debutant manors and mannerisms<br />I try to find myself...again...amongst other lost and benign souls<br />So, if two lost souls make a right, the look at who is left <br />And this is where we find each other, beside one another.<br /><br />Best kept secrets like lies illuminate starry skies with constellations that somehow don't fit astronomy’s description <br />I am, as they say, a Virgo--lost in the Milky Way<br />But if you are my painter the refill your brush and repaint these canvassed streets<br />So I can perform my glorious feats, I now walk barefoot on these prickly streets<br /><br />Each stroke pinpoints where to go like topographic maps<br />Your scribbled contours guide me in search of more<br /> And only begin to guide me on my never ending quest to explore <br />But as the lines intersect, I begin to realize that<br />…(there is nothing more)…<br />-Or-<br />That the only constant is change and the only thing that is changing is alluding us<br />Brooding us, searching for us as we are searching for them<br />And now with my holy water glass no longer half empty--<br />Its full to the brim<br />Boiling over like melting pots of insignificant truths <br />Where the only constant is that nothing is for sure<br />But now my rekindled butterfly's wings can begin to flap free and pure<br />Finally completed my metamorphosis process outside knocking on your front door<br />And now its our time to soar<br />Like moving on forgetting memories like the Raven...Never More<br /><br />We are the manifestation of the butterfly that flapped its wings in Kansas that caused earthquakes in Mongolia, Hurricanes in the Carribean and sunshine in Antarctica<br />My vase sits on a pedestal no longer broken, pieced back together and no longer full of misled misconceptions of immaculate conceptions<br />Reaching for new goals I encounter new challenges like overcoming the past...<br />Now that that has passed its time to remember to remember <br />and remember to release<br />Remember to remember and remember to release <br />Remember to release and your soul will be at ease<br />And now that release has released and relinquished my uninhibiting peace<br />Only to come to the realization of realizing that I lived through it<br />I am living through it<br />So what was it? And what IS it?<br />And it is…exactly that…that it WAS!<br />Simply this, now simply that...<br />Nothing more than what we just passed…the past.<br /><br /><br />-T Simp<br /><br /><br />‘Passed and Past’<br /><br />Written around July 2004, edited July, 2008<br />Rekindled and published by T Simp, Oakland, CA<br />Dar Far for Life, This One and the Next! <br /><br />*meaningless*metaphors*Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-91158219315620697772008-06-18T16:28:00.000-07:002008-06-18T16:36:27.248-07:00Meaningless Metaphors 2-16-2007Hiding like thieves in the night make you look twice<br />Rhythms blind in the night like the three wise mice<br />So hot you can feel it Miami like...South Beach<br />Reach out and holler to the top bills and dollar<br />Examine like salmon swimming 'contra' currents like contraband<br />Against the bandwagon mudslinging white sandy politicians<br />Get your hands dirty building sand castles at the beaches<br />Latin Americans say 'beaches' confused with catty little 'bitches'<br />Peruvians say 'shits,' bed clothes and sheets<br />Cross cultural languages<br />Man, learning this is the shit!Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-33913072382965569212008-06-18T16:15:00.000-07:002008-06-18T16:24:01.551-07:00Great White Hyphe, World Play no. 1Great White Hyphe, World Play no. 1<br /><br />"Hella Hyphy Hellas?!"<br /><br />I fill condoms with holy water and throw them and abstinate vampires<br /> just to watch them burn like camp fires<br /> <br /> Salma Hayek-esque desires<br /><br />You know, the little shit that inspires<br /> Needles through knows like telephone wires<br />Hot like burning rubber nascar tires<br /><br />Won hit one-ders expire<br /> like misplaced avocados under umbrellas<br /><br />On street corners 'hollarin' at lustfull lost Cindarellas<br /> <br /> Come on fellas<br /><br />Or is all you can say just hella hyphy hellas?!<br /><br /><br /><img src=https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5waK8XPq8dhvAIEwMSf8uiizNbpAAhyphenhyphen1VsL1F2UpVBrtZpFS8R87DaLvRLx8jgMI_eDxEWkwnLiP3wprksc-AVtI2w7NIE3GkvNaXh465uOQmjNWESvj9NzZYzoYVfgFhIOObJrL_wD_2/s320/IMG_0390.JPG><br />A Hella Hyphy Avacado<br /><br /><br />~GWH/MM/TS 2007~Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-11609815888106148562008-06-18T16:09:00.000-07:002008-06-18T16:14:02.976-07:00Sanskrit and Grits-udated, probably around july 2007-<br /><br />Left over pizza and coffee<br />Hungover at my computer I sit<br />Wondering what it would be like...<br /> If I could write in Sanskri<br />But shit<br />I fill my mouth with buttery grits<br />And hope that one day my poetry blog<br />Might get more than six hits<br /><br /><br />Sanskrit<br /><img src=http://www.worldscriptures.org/john1-jpgs/sanskrit.jpg><br />and<br /><img src=http://www.ansonmills.com/page19/page41/files/page41_1.jpg><br />Grits<br /><br /><br><br><br />~trent simpson's meaningless metaphors~Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-21240912522070657292008-05-29T03:20:00.000-07:002008-05-29T03:23:10.875-07:00MomentLive in the moment<br /><br />Plan for the future<br /><br />Remember the past<br /><br />Positive energy awaits<br /><br />Is there<br /><br />Can be channeled<br /><br />Through open gates<br /><br />Of oneself<br /><br />And harnessed<br /><br />Used and sent back<br /><br />To others<br /><br />Who await<br /><br />Positivity<br /><br />To gravitate <br /><br />Back<br /><br />Towards them<br /><br />In the moment<br /><br />This one<br /><br />And the next<br /><br /><br /><br />Retrograde Philosophies: May, 2008<br /><br />loveHolistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-154200766000175312008-01-15T14:06:00.001-08:002008-01-15T14:06:35.420-08:00Trent does Modernism...How....?<br /><br />...Does a man fall in and out of love so Precisely...?<br /> ...So Quickly and Concisely...? <br /><br /> (Im so scared) <br /> <br /> I cant even see my...¿Fright, Sí?<br /> My emotions are less than Might-E<br /> But I dont want to FIGHT thee<br /> I might take FLIGHT-¿see?<br /> And nevertheless...I might end up so spite thee<br /><br />Because on so many levels I think of you so HIGHLY<br /><br />HUG ME!<br /><br /> tightly...<br /><br /> so we can, betogethernightly.<br /><br />You never know...<br /><br />I just MIGHT "B"<br /><br /><br /><br />Sounds unlikely <br /><br /><br /><br /> BUT THE <br /><br /> WORLD <br /><br /> IS MIGHTY<br /><br />How Unlikely...<br /><br /><br /> or<br /> NOT <br /> .Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-80196985376933183932007-09-25T19:36:00.001-07:002007-09-25T19:36:28.691-07:00"Haters" by Trevor Simpson“Hater”<br />By Trevor Simpson<br />Sept. 11 2007<br /><br />I'm such a fucking hater, but like that way I see it, it just doesn't make sense.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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<br /><br />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"<br /><br />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.Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-51793266050727555722007-09-25T19:27:00.000-07:002007-09-25T19:32:26.098-07:00Inspired by Documentary "Freestyle"Yes...Indeed, indeed dee da dee day<br />Come to play<br />From Oakland to LA<br />"Up in 'hneaahre'" is what dey say<br />OKAY<br />Ohhright<br />White boy?!<br />Damn dem rhymes be tight...<br />Tight like clothes lines<br />Hung out to to dry like beef jerky<br />But dont come wit no beef to me...jerk (e)<br /><br />Ive been from Miami to Jersey<br />Sporting Brasilian soccer jeresys<br />Bahia to Gremio, grab me a game...damn boy lets go<br />To the 'Baile Funke' show...<br /><br />And when Im rockin my Flamengo...i be representin Ri-O!<br />Lets do it my way, rock the white and black <br />forever my love Olympia of of PARAGUAY!<br /><br />Cant nobody hurt me<br />Except sticks and stones<br />Cause they break bones<br />Like my rhymes break micraphones<br />Spittin illmatic shit back forth like<br />PALINDROMES!<br /><br />My toxic rhymes--<br />Bringing hurricanes that knock down Superdomes<br />Shrunk like gnomes<br />Allover globes, like my wandering sole<br /><br />Wherever it lands<br />Is where the Great White Hyphy's gonna stand<br />Like on demand><br /><br />Spittin flows...in my bath robe<br />Steamy showers, last about an hour<br />Getting clean, makin shit<br /> Steam<br />Etch-i-sketchin my dream<br /> Shake to erase<br /> Erase the face<br />That gave you this Rhyme<br /> Cause for the last time<br />I come with clocks<br /> To knock you off your socks<br />Knock you off you Socks<br />Like Yankees and Red Sox<br />Rivalries like tic tock<br />Hopin for the pick off<br />And hope to win the series<br />And lose to the Braves<br /> National League, representin, Hella Brave<br />Now the Hunger gots to Stave<br />Off like light switches<br /> Switchin like switch hitters<br /> Swapin like swingers<br /> And always comin ill that American Idol SINGERS!!!<br /><br /><br /><br />BOOYACACHAÇAHolistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-6359485625406887692007-06-12T23:19:00.000-07:002007-06-12T23:39:33.715-07:00Thank you SaulPut Trent Reznor and Saul Williams together...I think its a dangerous combo of incomprehensible genious...<br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/l1llNYAlYrc"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/l1llNYAlYrc" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><br />http://www.ilovemusicvideo.net/artist/Saul+Williams<br /><br /><br />Untimely Meditations lyrics<br /><br /><br /><br />The fiery sun of my passions evaporates the love lakes of my soul <br /><br />clouds my thoughts and rains you into existence as i take flight on <br /><br />bolts of lighting claiming chaos as my concubine and you as my me i of <br /><br />the storm you of the sea we of the moon land of the free what have i <br /><br />done to deserve this? am i happy? happiness is a mediocre sin set for <br /><br />a middle-class existence i see through smiles and smell truth in the <br /><br />distance beyond one dimensional smiles and laughter lies are hereafter <br /><br />where tears echo laughter you’d have to do math to divide a smile by a <br /><br />tear times fear equals mere truth. i simply delve in the air and if that’s <br /><br />the case, all i have to breath and all else will follow, that’s why drums <br /><br />are hollow, and i like drums drums are good but i cant think straight i <br /><br />lack the attention span to meditate my attention spans galaxies here <br /><br />and now are immense seconds are secular, moments are mine, self is <br /><br />illusion, music’s divine. noosed by the strings of jimmy’s guitar i swing <br /><br />purple hazed pendulum hypnotizing the part of i that never dies, look <br /><br />into my eyes are the windows of the soul. it’s fried chicken collies and <br /><br />cornbread, its corn milk flour sour cream eggs and oil. its the stolen <br /><br />blood of the earth, used to make cars run and kill the fish. who me? i <br /><br />play scales. the scales of dead fish of oil slicked seas my sister blows <br /><br />wind through the hollows of fallen tress and we are the echoes of <br /><br />eternity, echoes of eternity, echoes of eternity maybe you heard of us, <br /><br />we do rebirths, revokes and resurrections we threw basement parties in <br /><br />pyramids, i left my tag on the wall, the beats would echo of the stone <br /><br />and solidify into the form of light bulbs, destined to light of the heads <br /><br />of future generations they’re releasing it up in the form of ohm. Maybe <br /><br />you heard of us. If not then you must be trying to hear us, in such <br /><br />cases we can’t be heard we remain in the darkness unseen, in the <br /><br />center of unpeeled bananas we exist uncolored by perception, clothed <br /><br />to the naked eye, five senses cannot sense the fact of our existence <br /><br />and that's the only fact, in fact there are no facts, fax me a fact and i’ll <br /><br />telegram i’ll hologram i’ll telephone the son of man and tell him he is <br /><br />done. leave a message on his answering machine telling him there are <br /><br />none. god and i are one. times moon times star times sun, the factor is <br /><br />me, you remember me, i slung amethyst rocks on saturn blocks ‘til i <br /><br />got caught up by earthling cops. they wanted me for their army or <br /><br />whatever. picture me, i swirl like the wind tempting tomorrow to be <br /><br />today, tiptoing the fine line between everything and everything else. i <br /><br />am simply saturn swirling sevenths through sooth the sole living air of <br /><br />air and I, and, and all else follows. reverberating the space inside of <br /><br />drum hollows. package and bottles and chips and tomorrow then sold <br /><br />to the highest nigga. i swing to the tallest tree, lynched by the lowest <br /><br />branches of me, praying that my physical will set me free cause i’m <br /><br />afraid that all else is vanity mere language is profanity, i’d rather hum <br /><br />or have my soul tattooed to my tongue and let the scriptures be sung <br /><br />in gibberish as words be simple fish in my soulquarium. and intellect <br /><br />can’t swim so i stopped combing my mind so my thoughts could lock. <br /><br />i’m tired of trying to understand. perceptions are mangled matted and <br /><br />knotted anyway. life is more than what meet the eye and I, so elevate I <br /><br />to the third and even that shit seems absurd and your thoughts leave <br /><br />you third (eye)solated. no man is an island but i often feel alone, so i <br /><br />find peace through OM.<br /><br /><br />www.saulwilliams.comHolistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-18430771072487142062007-06-08T01:16:00.000-07:002007-06-08T01:19:07.139-07:00WWHBBe on the look out for the WWHB series...If you dont know...ask what it is...Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-7473971878171052992007-06-08T00:34:00.001-07:002007-06-08T00:38:27.003-07:00Preview-GWHGotta post this ish a little bit early by my patnah in crime..Hollan-Daze:<br /><br />cynically speaking I reek of money and good breeding<br />politically speaking I'm like Obama– left leaning<br />meaning this beaming stream<br />of no meaning<br />is either a beacon of hope<br />or dark scheming<br />been meaning to preen my dreams<br />of their excess fiendishness<br />a kind of mental spring clean<br />the thing it this–<br />It's the dark side of life that makes the light side lighter<br />lighter side like comic strips, daphodiles and toddlers<br /><br />and the light side of life is a miracle<br />don't fear it bro<br />it's spiritual<br />embrace it yo<br />feel it all<br />ova ya bodee<br />like a long shower or a sip of tea<br />just look at me<br />I used to be a nihilist<br />and now I'm free<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKu8tgzjTzjZk1eLgZyqnR5jNZOxT78juvLLOngyxWQOzzQIfn4FkZqRCOxmGMMHTxM1ojSFKikGUbX7z_X-7TTnSFXzvHsgGhAXk76jxPbjk_B9sQbkOqBu5Yop5enGPta_XQEp2r6tV0/s1600-h/eldritch.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKu8tgzjTzjZk1eLgZyqnR5jNZOxT78juvLLOngyxWQOzzQIfn4FkZqRCOxmGMMHTxM1ojSFKikGUbX7z_X-7TTnSFXzvHsgGhAXk76jxPbjk_B9sQbkOqBu5Yop5enGPta_XQEp2r6tV0/s320/eldritch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073594363944470498" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />DAMN!Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-70316013660226178592007-05-28T20:24:00.000-07:002007-05-28T20:28:37.044-07:00Distinguish<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JjAGS_S0XKEH1pOzIYt_R9cePoFkuNtPa1xofYRjuhLWrEZEMfWUWpMFHuVHEZ3HjpCcLQlXFYv4fns2eLbJ_8J_YpgnBEucaCzZYjE43x6KqD0xKq0bApjVAyfkeD2JQXgiNlEZ-Yeq/s1600-h/1071.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JjAGS_S0XKEH1pOzIYt_R9cePoFkuNtPa1xofYRjuhLWrEZEMfWUWpMFHuVHEZ3HjpCcLQlXFYv4fns2eLbJ_8J_YpgnBEucaCzZYjE43x6KqD0xKq0bApjVAyfkeD2JQXgiNlEZ-Yeq/s320/1071.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069819322762292114" border="0" /></a><br />Thinking of a day that is soon to come...<br />And not knowing where these thoughts come from<br />But they must come from somewhere<br />And they will always come from somewhere over there<br />Thoughts of love that distinguish a man<br />And distinguish a man only love can<br /><br />23.07.2002Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-35748314341016611582007-05-03T19:37:00.000-07:002007-05-03T19:39:14.667-07:00"Etched in Stone"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaBlvDnkMk0ImjRM5vl5HN2R7S0MeuyLUwjJ9nntyC72pJ4DAEJjmLK3Nngf046onMVl5jB2uHHDF_dLxw70zaEu2yi4EoR7hFTZ7L87EdlO57AGTyGoJf4vjEH52fK9M7pSupIKw8RVOt/s1600-h/rock_garden.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaBlvDnkMk0ImjRM5vl5HN2R7S0MeuyLUwjJ9nntyC72pJ4DAEJjmLK3Nngf046onMVl5jB2uHHDF_dLxw70zaEu2yi4EoR7hFTZ7L87EdlO57AGTyGoJf4vjEH52fK9M7pSupIKw8RVOt/s320/rock_garden.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060529539207887426" /></a><br />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....Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-30007153527591510862007-05-03T18:21:00.000-07:002007-05-03T18:51:04.838-07:00Meaningless Metaphors 3-02-2007<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqDmEXBJq_m6_VObcJiCdXc8aPaJEO4ptF4K_nRZxn1dBCyY-Nb4N0tAcvKMWF0pUFaAjaD9mM-TVh-ZkoWInvx9pKdaNHuYKOSTzQbiIOlM4RpvaXflOpT85Nrhyr31SUbne0pQ1YXZh/s1600-h/coffeeface.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqDmEXBJq_m6_VObcJiCdXc8aPaJEO4ptF4K_nRZxn1dBCyY-Nb4N0tAcvKMWF0pUFaAjaD9mM-TVh-ZkoWInvx9pKdaNHuYKOSTzQbiIOlM4RpvaXflOpT85Nrhyr31SUbne0pQ1YXZh/s320/coffeeface.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060516869054364210" /></a><br /><br />I passively attack delicate matters with sledge hammers and smash them like windows on golf courses with seven irons on Sundays.<br />I speak in ridiculous oxymorons to juxtapose the reality that we are surrounded by elected morons who go off of unconfirmed evidence they supposed.<br />I often hide in the shadows cause I hate to expose the fact that each waking moment adds inspiration for my prose.<br />A writer with secrets only my notebook knows<br />Like shredded CIA documents filed in top secret rows.<br />My blood line blotted and bottled from a stranger, Ive never seen anything stranger--like allahs son Jesus raised in a manger...<br /><br />These lies only grow.<br /><br />Forced into an ubiquitous mystery of misery, I stare down and walk aimlessly<br />Off center I begin to spill coffee in my hungover state like a struggling poet<br />Tattered leather couches, wandering souls, headaches--I have no idea where my house is.<br />Slicing through butter like hot knives through sticky sausages heated by microwaves.<br />I allude to obscurity and fill up on verbal obesity served on silver platters<br />Often dwelling on things that dont really matter...or do they?<br />My house is now falling the noises the clatter, it bothers me, it shatters my brain.<br /><br />Into pieces<br /><br />And when that happens I get so excited I prance on sofas <br />like Tom Cruise on Oprah<br />I look like <br />With fleeting feeling I get thinking there is hope--uh...<br /><br /><br /><br />...I really dont knowHolistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-849060505344424322007-04-30T11:55:00.000-07:002007-04-30T11:56:35.856-07:00Picture of Poetry<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHoWbB9Vfkqm2AeNb5G-bGTtdTlk4EEpuk76GO8fKMDUQwe52LxTpRPK5KD4U5vufwDeAv0XnNV52jT8_w_FcuojISNsPIkDAjY0IKxqjtuFxyPiFNfT9s2uQa1PYni4TMBAsM9RVCc9x/s1600-h/poet.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHoWbB9Vfkqm2AeNb5G-bGTtdTlk4EEpuk76GO8fKMDUQwe52LxTpRPK5KD4U5vufwDeAv0XnNV52jT8_w_FcuojISNsPIkDAjY0IKxqjtuFxyPiFNfT9s2uQa1PYni4TMBAsM9RVCc9x/s320/poet.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059296900773804578" /></a><br /><br /><br />Street Poet: Salvador da Bahia, Brasil 2004Holistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-8072121894878044262007-04-30T11:41:00.000-07:002007-04-30T11:42:37.708-07:00Pinned Like a ButterflyI feel like a butterfly push-pinned to a velvet wall flapping to get free<br /><br />So beautiful in its struggle, yet hopeless, trapped, and waiting so desperately<br /><br />But with my wings clipped I cannot fly among the sinking rays of the broken sky—the sun shattered into pieces bringing darkness<br /><br />There I lay in my abyss amongst carpeted blackness and I begin to know the truth to what I truly miss<br /><br />Like the blink of an eye where in that instant you missed the only glimpse of pure bliss—Found on this green earth…<br /><br />but its not so green anymore<br /><br />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<br /><br />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<br /><br />Like closing your eyes as if it were for the last time and replaying all the beauty in this world<br /><br />Because your beauty made me walk down endless desert roads without water<br /><br />And your beauty made me climb the highest peaks without oxygen.<br /><br />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<br /><br />I took in all the beauty of the world for one last glimpse of you<br /><br />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<br /><br />Its like playing cards where you have four aces I lost against with a pair of twos<br /><br />The adrenaline pumps as my heart races<br /><br />Lost in the valleys of wide open spaces<br /><br />Where, glacial tills erode our history and wash away a path along my hearts misery<br /><br />There you will forever be enshrined as the alpin-glow lights illuminate the way<br /><br />Questions bleed from my veins hoping to wake up another day<br /><br />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 eyesHolistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367777862715965535.post-58201012516823963832007-04-30T11:39:00.000-07:002007-04-30T11:41:05.980-07:00Creative Crayola ColorsI got a box of crayons…<br /><br />But my box of crayons doesn’t contain those creative Crayola colors like chamomile brown that we all remember from our younger years<br /><br />It doesn’t have that-- school bus yellow we used to paint those big bright suns in our stick figure family portraits<br /><br />Yea, we all thought were masterpieces--with the brick red house and platinum blonde haired family standing happily on the forest green grass<br /><br />My box of crayons is full of colors of the world that we see today, each and every day<br /><br />Unfortunately, they aren’t the original creative Crayola colors such as my favorite: purple mountain majesties, or the classic macaroni and cheese<br /><br />My box of crayons consists of colors like: heartbroken grey and fuck Valentines Day<br /><br />To me, the once popular purple pizzazz blends well with the new governmental favorite terrorist alert orange<br /><br />Shaded by the popular preemptive purple we find ourselves filling with fucked by Bush Black<br /><br />And forget the days of lime green and vivid tangerine<br /><br />I’ve replaced those with where is the democratic party blue and lung cancer nicotine<br /><br /><br />There are, of course, the poetic crayons that paint the pictures of this globe<br /><br />Sunset orange, radiant red, tantalizing turquoise and Beautiful Brazilian blue<br /><br />But all those have been replaced with American Airlines pilot finger flicking fuck you<br /><br />Constitutional lies yellow goes nicely with media manipulated maroon<br /><br />Soon enough we will all end up like the WTF mate cartoon<br /><br />…Fucking kangaroo brown<br /><br />Governmental globalization mahogany pollutes the once popular peaceful periwinkle<br /><br />Atomic Middle East accents well with al Quaida orange<br /><br />So why don’t we just color destiny with clash of civilizations mahogany<br /><br /><br />Anyways, lets check the black and white and read all over fabricated news<br /><br />With endless references to Michael Jackson child molesting baby blue<br /><br />Or how about scarlet letters paint the way for Kobe Bryant yellow<br /><br />Because that’s just arbitrary orange<br /><br />We need to see more colors like humanitarian aid green<br /><br />And blush from a first kiss excitement rush<br /><br />The colors of the rainbow have brought us to the brink<br /><br />Like creating an amendment prohibiting gay marriage pink…<br /><br />Angry adolescent youths prefer the popular color of my opinion doesn’t matter<br /><br />And people below the poverty level have way too much I ain’t getting none of that green<br /><br />Whereas president Bush’s sidekicks are rolling around in reconstruction red<br /><br />Halliburton yellow and Arthur Anderson orange are building and accounting for our future<br /><br />Fuscia’s fury is now green with envy<br /><br />And Oscar winning gold sees a terrorist frenzy<br /><br />Creative Crayola colors that were once so divine, have come to see their dreams decline<br /><br />But--on a lighter note…Nike shox are coming out with their new spring lineHolistic Himhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07485237354960174866noreply@blogger.com0