...the satanic verses...

...anthologie complet...

welcome to the persian perversion
a momentary lapse of diversion
from the regular bullshit version
a vocabulary that's scary
in a vernacular that's spectacular
complete with some curses
i present the satanic verses

the subterranean iranian
like two tons of uranium to the cranium
the new poet for the masses
is sending you back to english classes

versed in proverbs
spoken words over beats
rockin' the NJ suburbs
to the NYCity streets
with superb verbs
my adjective is objective
& my memory's gone selective
my preposition position
is sedition
some marvin gaye
some new edition
to make the ladies listen
to nothing sweet
like cinnamon
& its synonyms
with my proper nouns
i get dirty & down
when it comes to conjunction
my parts of speech all function
my exclamations are aggressive
on other people's possessives

my verse is unrehearsed
from haiku to quatrain
catch me in creation
on the downtown N/R train
i'll be takin' over the nation
while you still at home rackin' ya brain
for words you never learned
are words in which you can't be trained

lookin for a new vocation
in a new location
b/c this nation
of inflation
and overconsumption
got my gumption going
and my verses flowing
from New York to Tibet
making me a threat
of the verbal kind
a beautiful dangerous mind

my discourses
on the forces
that be
tween you & me
so my eyes can see
when i'm a busta rhymes
on nickels & dimes
what scenarios
for super marios
and oreos
like me

my prose
can only pose
to my foes
the greatest danger
like the yankees tradin' alfonso
for a-rod to the texas rangers
a wolf like denzel as alonzo
or even camus' stranger
only reppin' NYC
from MLK to avenue D
from mecca to medina
have you seen the
best player in the game?
mohammad jones is the name

mohammad jones
can slay you in a million ways
with limericks
on a big booty trick
or haikus
with dykes too
i spit verse
across the universe
and i’m not just like you
you never thought
i would arrive
after i hit twenty five
but like a cat with nine lives
i’m dodging taxi cabs & knives
because i’m an urban
verbal herbsman
without a turban
and pretty soon my
verses will spread from
NY to Durban

my ill skills
kill bill
and wow dimes like uma
they're diggin' my wild style profile
and my sky blue pumas
so they leave the hawkes
for the persian prince of new yawk
'cuz i'm a wolf, not a sheep
helpin' little bo peep
who can't tell where to find 'em
bringin' their tall tales behind 'em
of glamour & splendor
while i'm breakin' the law
bashing 5-0 fenders
all dressed in fatigues
grey & black camoflague
they ain't even in the same league
when i drop a verbal barrage
of freestyle flows
and lyrical sabotage
rippin' up shows
'cuz i'm the new funky buddha
with hoes in diff'rent area codes
splashin' waterfalls like luda
and tho i'm prone to grab the mic
i'm at home on my compuda
and what you see is what you like
porque soy el mejor sin duda
flippin' the script
in diff'rent tongues
got the jury all hung
'cuz they can't understand
the way these words i command


vandals of scandal
the white house was vandalized
media's all scandalized
white collars tell more lies
it comes as no surprise
we're 2004 years into christ's past
wondering whether our integrity can last
trapped in towers of glass
and minds full of babble
we look unto you to rouse the rabble
something's gotta give
they say live & let live
and let someone else die
on the shores of the river kwai
divert people's attention
there's no need to mention
what happened that day & why
just keep blowing smoke in their faces
until they forget the names & places
and until their eyes have dried


years pass me by
i forget the days
i remember the ways
she played our games
i remember the names
i remember the places
i remember the faces
i forget the times
i forget my rhymes
livin' the wild life
the pen as my knife
the night as my wife


fish in the sea
i’m feeling mixed emotions
about ladies from across oceans
and others i see crossing the street
everyday new fish to meet
so many in the sea
too many decisions for me
to not make
i don’t fake
my feelings
i’m just stealing
a few moments of pleasure
swimming & searching for treasure
not yet found nor yet lost
at great cost
by any means
so many scenes
of this life in water
just to be with your daughter
feeling so good inside
in each other we confide
when we ride waves
for it is love that saves
every fish’s day
living to please,
wanting to stay,
dreams of foreign seas
far away
for one moment to seize
this day
your present
is present
and your future
has yet to arrive
how do we survive
waiting for the right current
& overwhelmed
with a drunk captain at the helm,
lost at sea
is where you’ll find me
sleeping with the fishes
fulfilling our wishes
all wet & delicious


we'll always have paris
je t’aime paris
ton lumieres et ta femmes
après tes nuits
ma vie n’est pas le meme

de la rive gauche
a le quartier latin
avec une verre du vin rouge
je t’aime das la nuit et le matin

je veux
ton rues
dans ma vie
comme une reve
a quelque arrondissement
sous ton ciel exactemente


ain’t got no
ain’t got no money
ain’t got no love
what to do when all your friends are gone?
writing songs
on the great lawn
under the clouds and starry night
baritones boom with might
philharmonic harmonics
echo while
wooden planks shudder
cyclones are landmarks
by food fried in butter
and when the eyes shutter
and blink for two seconds
the moment is reckoned
in recollection
a selection
of faces and stories
twelve stories
above the ground
the street sounds
and drowned
by the bridges over oceans yonder
an alphabet of streets i wander
in hot pursuit
of fast loot
and a girl that’s cute
with no flute
this piper
pied words like a sniper
in many directions
his affections
through erections
manifest the overwhelming desires in his chest
pumping in the valves of his heart
playing a small part
in a cast of millions
fulfilling yins
and yangs
with pangs of pleasure
and moments of pain
everything to gain
when you
ain’t got no money
ain’t got no love
what to do when all your souls are gone?


a city of overstimulation & instant gratification
everyman’s pontification
will come at the hands of consumer saturation
in the information nation
we try sedation
for our elation
but why not meditation?


the birds stopped singing
the birds stopped singing
blasts were ringing
throughout night air
a lot of people had no care
they got paid
and sometimes laid
so all was good
in the white manís hood
until one day fine & dandy
along came a man of skin sandy
who couldnít stop talking
from block to block walking
with a pipe dream
sewed into the inside seam
of italian jeans
he says what he means
and what he means to say
is that there is no fucking way
this shit can go on any longer
the will of the people can only be stronger
when youíve taken lady liberty and flat out wronged her

the birds stopped singing
the pain was stinging
the whole world of reason
that warm & cold season
suppressed by men of treason
saying nothing on television
leaders of the new division
in the body politik
the media made many sick
and dinner was spent with the simpsons
OJ, bart, lisa, homer and marge
whilst a man afraid of the camera was in charge
leaving martin sheen to play the role
of puppet in the old house that he stole
yet many cowered in our darkest hour
to let peace overcome
the evil in some
and so revenge took hold
lots of flags were sold
and half of the tax
went to fund attacks
deploying our poor
to kill the even more poor
until the news channels were bored
and covered up all discord
and focused on pretty white girls instead
who were missing and presumed dead
no more pundits and generals
talking about how to get minerals
and resources fastest from the ground
and what international laws by which weíre not bound

the birds stopped singing
he started drinking
and stopped thinking
there was anything
he could fucking do
whoís going to take over
fucking you???
because it won't be fucking me
iím just hoping to be fucking she
and maybe her friends
when days reach their ends
and hope may be lost
it's alright to have paid the cost
of sharing love
and guidance from above
open your heart
and the world will start
to open its heart to you
in the form of its goddesses, fair and true


waiting for america
waiting for a boat named america
one early july night
by the bayshore
she promised freedom
arrived late at the dock
one early july night
waiting for a boat named america


leaving las vegas
leaving las vegas
never felt so good
gone is the green for the money
and the gold for the honey
and those sunny dry desert days
the night that glitters
makes me shiver
leaving las vegas
looking back on the strip
sunday nights
full of glimmering neon lights
and empty pockets
i tried to tap into bellagio’s profits
and ended up with one last chance
in mccarran
wanting one last lapdance
with diana & karen
but ended up at the hard rock pool
and just like everyone else here
i plays the fool
plotting to rob steve wynne’s jewels
the neon lights
the booze
the buffets
the cons
the tables
the riches
the bitches
the pros
the pose
she does on that pole
made all the bachelors lose control
into the daylight
a forgotten unforgettable night
tenpence none the richer
i get the picture
while the wheel of fortune
spins in terminal A
my body might make it through
this month of may
though on this 11th day
i need to play
a few more turns
and get burned
before i learn my lesson
leaving las vegas
will lessen
my bank and my body
but enliven my spirit
the jackpot
i’m near it
the truth
about the skybooth
and bottle service
was i
of no cares
to chain me down
with so much
to keep me around
while i clinged to the desert ground
looking for some water
from someone's fine daughter
gave in
to a city of sin
and then begin
a life anew
returning to the life
you already knew
so i’m
leaving las vegas
financially scarred
emotionally uplifted
knowing full house well
the game
the game
my game
just shifted


je ne le oubliez jamais
searching for
my piece of the pie Americana
roll it up with a little bit of
tobacco and marijuana
frankfurter friday mornings
in Delaware
making French fries
ainít cool
itís tough
dancing in the flesh
for fast bucks
and young fucks
like me
can be a way of
living in this society
tolls donít take bills no more
whatís an out of towner to do?
where oh where can my baby be?
sheís certainly not here riding with me
so I kept riding until the sun came a rising
with no place in mind
just the road
that I follow
looking for a girl
in Delaware
that swallows
bearing my heart on my sleeve,
itís become alone and hollow
sleepy like ichabod crane
I am going crazy with this brain
at 4am mornings
I canít help not yawning
and disregarding the surgeon generalís warnings.


blackouts bring out
the writer in me
fireworks and festivities
for some strange reason
these moments i seize
to make a notebook out of trees
bombs a thundering
flurries asunder
without my vision
left my ears to wonder
was it beauty beforth
amidst the summer sky
the celebration of a nation
of demand and supply
these moments I took
to the red tattered book
hung in my sling
like the flag in spring
a battle of epic proportions
wooed and cheered
the victorious masses
their hands full with beer
twas a display of might
in a new era
of light speed thought
and information
yet with no power
you donít know the hour
or even how are your friends
you only know when the day ends

I clung to the past
for many years
due to my fears
that the world would be built by my peers
and the further we steered
towards the future
with the fossils for our fuel
chaos would ensue
from technocratic rule
render the learned the fool
helpless with but a candle and pen
when you leave the room
doth my soliloquy being

you hath given unto me
a certain proclivity
towards the open minded trails
of your wheat filled fields
your hills and valleys
from susquehanna
to san fernando
had me feeling like a commando
always on the defense
with my sixth sense
my pockets full of no pence
led to a lack of common sense
no means left to recompense
our future and past
so I took it upon myself
to set the precedents


brooklyn bomber
unrelated to the rest
i thought i was best
focused on my quest
it all just seemed like a mess
when it got to be too much, the stress
i tried to dream of that soft summer dress
lying between the glass
the sun is my savior
though i am a vampire
a creature of night
standing before the fire
my line of sight
is too far and in between
so i am too clean
and dirty at the same time
not for the sake of rhyme
i have no reason
it comes during all seasons
i am no longer pleasing
to my own needs
i refuse to feed
without remorse
i have chosen my destined course
shedding this first person
it took not long
yo write love song
a metamorphosis
for heavenly bliss
and not the stuff of riches
the stuff of dreams
through with all the bitches
and on to all the queens
crawled my way out of many niches
and out of my teens
now almost half way through
the next decade
i would figure to have it made
held down to get laid
out in the open
sometimes I wear the frown
others the smile is my crown
when i have reached down
into a reservoir
of film noir
and Issachar
set my people free
or let me go alone
i have had only one home
to have left
to do like they do in Rome
and to do it even a little better
i turned to the verse
and flipped on the letter
i did not rehearse
and i did not let her
be my night nurse
to help me get better
i gave it my all
and still seemed to fall
i’ve never stood tall
so i watched from better perspective
acquiring the knowledge like a private detective
cannot help but to get reflective
only to retract and to defend
to the loneliness of my heart i see no end
all of my pain i have tried to mend
resorting to liquor and medicine
and other expensive worldly sins
when doth my retribution begin?
i absolutely refuse to give in
i am not yet done with living
neither with giving
shall i continue
to wear blue
bearing the birth of the cool
and the infinite circle
i have nothing
but blame
and everything but the girl
remixed for the streets
circa two thousand and twenty
in the information age
supplies were plenty
but people were yet to understand
what was the creator’s original plan
and that was to mate
and to create
to love
and not hate
i thought that this was my fate
among all
i wanted to ball
suckers waited to brawl
but they were all
too busy walking
New York
looking for a fork
in garbage cans
another paycheck from the man
so i could go on to live out my plan
everybody else was just in the way
i had neither the time nor inclination
to stay any longer
though the feelings
got stronger
i did not wish to wrong her
or her beloved name
i refused to play her wicked game
and so it is the song remains the same
i’m going back to Colorado
with a brand new bravado
with rectangles as my motto
the hard step
put numbers
back to basics
as code passes
and flashes
through the matrix
turned tricks
took its licks
kept on ticking
though this world
got sickening
the plot kept thickening
for the others
i just laid low with the brothers
trying not to act my age
24 years and 20 minutes ago
all my life i have raged


stranded in a town called harrisburg
the lone traveler
a gunman without a holster
and any ammunition
gunpowder shaken off his head
like dandruff on january days
snow so pure
you could snort it straight
and pray to your god
for more in fifteen minutes
because we need oblivion
and we canít get enough
suffice for shorter periods
but they canít drown
out the wails of sorrow
bellowing from within
i see it in their eyes
the truth to their lies
actors abound
above the ground
but venture below
as shadows creep slow
there are things
i will never know
who am i
and to what do I owe this visit?
where am I going
walking blindly
without knowing
tis not the destination
but the path
which enlightens
and to venture alone
does my heart frighten
murmuring its weakness
drowned out by drums
that beat within me
so i can keep the time
i donítí wear a watch
because i am already aware
that even when i am angry
i do still care
despite my misgivings
i keep on living
and getting stronger
though my body is no longer
lying under sheets
woven from the east
the distant lands
that have not graced my presence
and so I find myself lost
speaking with peasants and thieves
pushers and patriots
and one who jumped the fence
who stood before the naval court in defense
how could i ever recompense
a man for whom i know no solution?
when i have none for myself?
selfishness has become a sickness
in this foreign land
many have arisen to take the stand
but lacked the power
that comes with a hundred grand
so they were deemed doomed to failure
and yet another win
was chalked up for big business
inanimate entities
encompassed our very being
those latter millennial years
and yet everywhere
there was money to be had
so there seemed to be no fears
everyday the innocent died
and no one shed any tears
because one must make sure to smile
as the cameras near
to archive your fingerprints
in the media encyclopedia

southern hospitality
in the north such manner
is a mere formality
its sheer normality
mere conformality
of conformation
within the money culture
there are no more nations
only corporations
and so no hesitations
when it comes to profit maximization
there are so many organizations
and not enough legislation
so i chose verbal terrorization


enter the dragon
enter the dragon
and his welcome wagon
of stories and years
overcoming fears
hiding tears
in the shed
with the word
and hammer
time stopped
when it smashed the clock
time scattered
in pieces
the sickle
flew off the handle
and i caught it
cut lines across my life
and burned it
chapter by chapter
the logical progression
sessions call question
upon resources
in codes
like morse’s
traveled halfway
around this land
and seas
that surmise
and walked away
with a dream
that was revolting
revolving on its own
was Abraxas
“ destroy the world
to be from from it
fly to god”
you are everything
and everything is yours
and yours
can open many doors
and close even more
and find even more than that
wear different hats
and other people’s pussy (OPP!)
i have got a monopoly
on my emotions
playing football
against Americans
i am afraid of
such as myself
at a situation
the past
made of this moment
it’s been ages
how many years have you?
the hundred eighty proof
is in the pudding
and i’m just eating
up the evidence
cuz i don’t want to get busted again
i’ve got ten years
to live
so let the games begin
as i prepare to take on the world
as an armchair assassin
if i am to outlive
jesus and bird
but they were way ahead
i’m taking my time
hiding my rhyme
this verbal landmine
leaves convention
in a wasteland
of ideas
when i lose track
of the time
and the lines
i cut on the mirror
some nights i snorted
my life
for a quick jolt
of what’s good
but then it seemed
that it could get old
if i got old
unless i stayed bold
solid gold
i sold
in stories
i haven’t even told
my hand is pretty weak
so for tonight, i fold


i wonder how i will meet the sky and kiss it on its sky blue lips
excuse me while i caress the clouds
invoking the saint of electric ladyland
samples of would be prose
words i have used on the other girls
until making love to the sky
gave me the thunder clap blues
from which i need protection from myself
for plastic is the death of me
preacher can’t you see
what’s become of me
the passenger a stranger
wandering about smiles
through the alleys
ringing up the music for high art
and the shirt off my back,
i prefer to whistle tunes from the twilight zone nights
when the sky cast black on her stage
all the world for which my heart holds love
i prefer to be naked
and look to the sky above
to take my love and heal my pain,
‘tis she the blanket of beauty
to which I will make my love
underneath the stars she keeps in her shroud
and feel her rain as it cleanses my soul
to kiss the sky it is a dream of mine…


i don’t feel right
that is to write
on this cold night
even despite
all of my might
through my blurred sight
to remove plight
which like a kite
with me does fight
for wind and for light
on autumn nights
doth the air bite
numb hands clenched tight
struggling to write


a drum is a woman
once famed as a jazz man,
the noble duke maintained,

a drum is a woman
a woman of great pain

a woman of great joy
a woman i have loved
since the age of a boy

to her skin was i lured
a caress had assured

a drum is a woman

a drum is a woman

to whom i must be near
to hear the music i hold so dear

from the depths of her heart,
my hands & her hollow soul,
is borne a child of art

from it, in fear, i ran
to find another one
a drum is a woman
and music is her son


the devil and the good lord
tired of convulsions and the same old, same old,
begins the hot urban journey of a heart so cold,
spinning through the depths of faces, words and sounds,
due dizziness forces a fixed gaze at the ground,
slavishly indifferent, an infinite plane of concrete,
hideous and soiled, a beloved village street,
becomes an underground temple of velvet red,
as visions of sweet music dance about the head,
jazz, smoke, drink, the comfortable friends,
it had to have been sin in the end.


who what when where why?
what is with
whining wishful words
weary with worship of women
water wavering wet washed in we
why wow well weight weighs weightless
when the way weaves wide
wild west wits wrest awry from the rest
wise her eyes were aware where the world was
wonderful this wanderer woke me while waiting for the weekend
woe is me without a wife a wink a whisper
whither winter warm weather
whenever i walk whistling wearing white
witness to wilting wildflowers
wayward wading through weber’s werk
wishing you weren’t wasting away in the way
who would want what was worth when’s wonder???


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