GRAMMY HQ

grams HQ

GRAM DIDDY

grammy taylor all ready

gramps taylor the don gorgon

from this window have i

PICT0002
Originally uploaded by viskus.

i will never forget this view. it was muchy more than the in-out in-out.

my reflection in your rims is not a good look for me...

the wheel keeps spinning.
the motion continues,
the eyes cannot stop looking.
they automatically rise up to doorlevel.
to see the passenger and driver
the nigger keeps grinning,his folly continues.
I keep looking in the ride.
waiting for something else to appear.
something new to see.
some new screen to appear.
some new puzzle to solve.
did i talk too much?
did i mix too much?
did i blend too much?
did i react too late?
all i am is that reflection in those rims.all i am is that reflection of the brother.all i am is the reflection of my nigga.

The lingering fragrance

My thoguhts of you are often
seperated
Into categories
Paradigms of emotional organized disarray
Some drip with honey
Some dry the slow drip of funeral parlor myrhh
Some drip leak of energy from face heart and unreadable capricious
persona
But they come and linger...
Sight of 8 by 8
Weed burning innocence.

I will just say I miss them you me us.
Jireh -

Nymphomania - for those that don't know...

Nymphomania - inability to leave the second chakra.

Salaciousness

Very hungry lovers
Jireh - sent from Sidekick

stop touching me dun

the pressure of the empty spacesurrounding your palms hand fingertips and earthenware genitalsthat we watch eb and flownothing touchingonly fieldsand bits of information...the scientist awakens again and notices there is a placea place for all those thingsinside the confines of his new quantum sex toyday and night.with said new device of godlike pleasuretirelessly he fucks himself.tirelessly the the niggers are fucking themselvestirelessly whitey buffs himselfadmiringly our hero tries losing himselfdropping his keys...leaving pieces of himself everywherelike a maggot wishing for a chrysalisam i not the worm?do i not move by squirm?
more questions drip outmorphine likethey are release as well as addicting prisonone leads to the next without closing the door behind him or her.people try and reach new levels without leaving the old ones...
like ok. imagine you are trying to take an elevator but you dont want to leave the first floorimagine how thin you stretch yourself
let go of the ghettolet go of the backwoodsstop talking so damn loudact decentfuck your pridefuck that identityis that what you think you are? your big speakers?a piece of fried chicken?watermelon?an annual police controlled parade?a waving flag?i look at flags wavingand i see large sheets of linen,which become huge green leaves of iceberg lettucs... and i am there as the maggot... in between them alltrying to find a cool place...a place to chill yall the fuck out...

the beginning of the end of the ending to my beginning

being clever these days is so easy. they say it is anyway.
the premature slam of an enter key and you go from prose to poetry.
i hope i didnt just clever my way out of the best girl ever.
i said i just couldnt do it anymore.
was it true?
had i searched my heart enough to really know?
it's how i felt and how i acted.
i was crazy about the 2.5 dumplings and all that entailed.
but i couldnt get my arms around anything else.