S3V3N G4LL0NS 0F 01L C00K3D...

seven gallons of oil cooked

inside of each tire, rendered

useless by worn away tread

SONG OF THE DAY: Soulmate

[I ain't really feel like writing about no damn Lizzo, so instead 

I wrote a freestyle sonnet I guess triggered by this song, but idk tbh] 

Cyborg self-marketers claiming soul, screaming "SOUL!" 
through digital fog of polluted innerstates. 
We all so fragmented from birth from feeling whole, 
chasing love-based serotonin to lighten the weights 
of physical dread. This world's hard, can take its toll 
on simple folks focused on heart first, trusting fate's 
gonna follow what you sow, despite seeing hole 
in that thinking daily... far more multiple hates 
indulged by too many, poisoned brains trumping heart, 
mushroom clouds of toxic thought pushed upon "time" lines 
no longer chronological. We're pushed apart 
by our own alleged progress, these strange designs 
of how to most deeply connect... divisive art 
of our entered nets as collective care declines. 

TH1S TW1ST3D 3X1ST3NC3 1'V3...

this twisted existence I've

bent myself into, which don't

do shit to satisfy soul

1N 4ND 0VT 4T TH3 TRVCK ST0P...

in and out at the truck stop

to top off slow leak in rear

tire, then kept heading westward

W4S G0NN4 WR1T3 4 H41KV...

was gonna write a haiku

with "the thin black line" and "blue

skies matter" but then didn't

SONG OF THE DAY: Tamaditine

The checklists of basic human desire - to find a home, and love, and feel the freedom to seek both those things, free of obstacles and fences and razor wire so on and so forth. This is the "life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness" trinity, which is not the intellectual property of the United States, cannot be patented or trademarked as an exceptionally American quality unseen in the rest of history. This is innate to being a live, and wandering this confusing existence seeking shelter. One wants a home to rest, and to recognize the geography as a space they understand and understands them and in fact are like symbiotic in relations. And one wants to feel the spark of blood pumping with tingle from heart muscle because there are others of the same creation who share those feelings and you all shelter each other to continue to generate that buzz, the dopamine and serotonin of sustained emotions in generally-speaking safe space, or if those things are not entirely stable, being able to wander further to find it. That's all the fuck anybody wants. Being a human is not nearly as complicated as we make it with all our damn rules and regulations and hoarding of abstract signifiers of more.

TRY T0 K33P MYS3LF GR0VND3D...

try to keep myself grounded,

but still got dreams that transcend

this corner I'm living in

SONG OF THE DAY: What Am I Afraid Of

BlackLiq’s been dropping a mixtape from his archives of freestyles every month this year. He just dropped Volume 10 last night. I ain’t even processed all the earlier ones. This track is off the one from all the way back in May. I love crazy prolific creative types, that ain’t even fucking around with waiting on you to catch up. It’s very inspirational. BlackLiq’s actually inspiring me to try and fuck around and make more music in 2020. But seriously, check out his fuckin bandcamp – it’s full of great shit.

SPR34DSH33TS 0F HVM4N1TY...

spreadsheets of humanity,

each windowed cell full of lives

concatenating events

R04M TH3 34RTH WH3R3V3R...

roam the Earth wherever

my path accidentally

takes me, ain't yet found a home

SONG OF THE DAY: I Choose You

Tobe Nwigwe been dropping a video a week for a thousand weeks in a row, straight lineage to Houston style, just like Rap-a-Lot having a thousand tapes in a row, just like DJ Screw doing a thousand mixtapes in a row, the endless productivity of creative lane that nobody can fuck with because everybody else is afraid to even occupy it. Tobe was a D-1 football player (North Texas, just like Stone Cold Steve Austin and Mean Joe Greene), but had that lane roadblocked by injury, and found himself accidentally switching into this lane. First generation Nigerian-American as well, so culturally, though steeped in Houston, has a larger global flavor to what makes him uniquely him. But damn, Houston always seems to pop out these amazing forces in hip hop over the decades, and absolute game-changing things. Is Tobe a game changer? I don't know, because the current modus operandi of music industry is something ferments locally, the lactofermented bacteria blossoms on a larger scale, usually through the internet petri dish circulation, and then gets signed somewhere and has that natural energy pasteurized into something not quite so tingly. So enjoy this Tobe Nwigwe run for as long as it lasts. He's already blessed us.

S3TT1NG MY 4W4Y 3M41L...

setting my away email

message for vacation at

work to the shrug emoji

W4ND3R1NG THR0VGH W4SH1NGT0N...

wandering through Washington,

feeling dissociative,

with phone battery dying

SONG OF THE DAY: Trill Burr

There’s so many creative geniuses operating out here in the wild that the majority of people have no idea about. Richmond remains a breeding ground for that energy, and I’ve never been able to figure out why exactly (and hopefully they don’t gentrify/pasteurize it away) but it remains an incubator of wild ass spirits. I still feel more connection to Richmond than Charlottesville, even after all this time since I moved. Lately I’ve been listening to Nickelus F like crazy. Dude is just straight brilliant, wandering through infinite styles, left and right (and all directions otherwise). It’s very inspiring to just hear a dude going off on incredible tangents constantly, and it makes you wanna do your own shit. You know there’s a ton of hard work, practice, and raw intelligence involved in doing that, but honestly man, if you feel inspired by a wild ass artist, that’s good, and part of what’s supposed to happen. Lockdown and make a thousand mixtapes.

I ain’t really trying to crush dreams, because we all gotta dream in this shitty cold ass world, but too many rappers (and really all artists) get attached to hyping themselves up and building online marketing buzz, without putting in the constant practice and work. You build a large volume of work, it’s like dandelion seeds, it’s gonna start sprouting somewhere, in the cracks over here, in a vacant lot over there… if you’re scattering your creative seeds enough, they can’t be stopped from blossoming. I feel like too many folks think there’s a shortcut to success (which there is – be born rich, so you can buy access to everything), but it’s not.

And the beauty of wild ass artists is that when you finally stop sleeping on somebody like Nickelus F, fuck there’s like this whole giant catalog of amazing shit to dig into. Your art you consuming ain’t got to be brand new. We’re not on no time-table here. None of us have to be pop culture curators of the newest hottest shit. In fact, you go find Nickelus F on bandcamp and there’s two Gold Mine releases of shit he found on a hard drive that you can pay what you want, and that shit all fuckin’ rocks as well.

I don’t know if people still read websites like this anymore. Hit up the comments with some unknown brilliance you’re aware of… let’s start connecting to this wild ass geniuses running around in semi-obscurity out here.

SM4LL T0WNS WH3R3 TH0S3 F0RG0TT3N...

small towns where those forgotten

by flyover know-it-alls

still build most meaningful lives

SONG OF THE DAY: g01n' d0wn sl0w

The act of screwing previously recognizable music is an intentional act of sabotage upon the defining shackles of accepted time management. The concept of time is taught to us at a very young age in order to stifle our innate desire to play and wander and roam and explore life, and is the beginning of tethering our human existence to the mechanistic expectations of productivity. The creative act of song composition, as originally done, was potentially a shot at breaking free of these confines, but generally speaking if you’ve heard a song from back in the day, it was already compromised and perverted by the materialistic and exploitative actions of the music industry. Why would anyone make an “industry” of music? What a horrible idea.

Taking this original composition and then further fucking it up, altering the speeds at which it is heard adds nuance, and also resists the notion that an accepted standardized length is the only one acceptable. The single beginning length can be altered longer or shorter (longer is always better in my opinion, it jibes with my personality which has been baked into loving sloth by the southern humidity for over four decades). It is often argued that the human mind won’t be able to handle time travel, because we are three-dimensional creatures (x-axis, y-axis, z-axis… so firm in this belief we make them the end of our alphabet) and time travel is a fourth-dimension, where you exist along multiple points on the time continuum. I’d suggest even further that true transcendence of three-dimensional slavery is to accept there are no longer even points on that space-time continuum, to be charted like a colonizer’s map, but instead just the full oneness of time itself. This is the abolition of time, and true freedom. Fuck your clocks, and fuck your appointments, and fuck your expectations that I be “on time”. I am always on time, simply by being alive.

DR0PP1NG 4 T3SL4 3NG1N3...

dropping a Tesla engine

in a classic Chevrolet

body, then getting some Daytons

S1NG1NG P30PL3 S4Y 1'M N0...

singing "people say I'm no

good, and crazy as a loon"

loud as fuck, under new moon

F1ND MYS3LF 4LL T00 0FT3N...

find myself all too often

staring up at the sky while

wondering, "what the fuck, yo?"

SONG OF THE DAY: Tip On In (Part 1)

Motherfuckers don't say "sock it to me, baby" nearly as often as they should anymore. And yet people still say "motherfuckers" all the time. Like me. I am the people, and also problematic af still. Part of being people is being problematic. If somebody's perfect, they ain't real people. And there's a lot of that type around. Motherfuckers.

TH3 PR1V1L3G3D D0N'T R34L1Z3...

the privileged don't realize

that when things get ugly, their

blood will be the first to flow

SH4R3D QV4L1TY 0F L1F3'S SL0W...

shared quality of life's slow

decline not always mentioned,

even though it's obvious

SONG OF THE DAY: I Did

Woke up this rainy morning imagining what if I operated a food truck except it'd be a food winnebago, and I know I'd have to sell chicken gizzards, and it'd be an anti-hipster spot, and I'd be bumping Choosey & Exile this morning most likely. But of course being anti-hipster ends up becoming hipster because in this day and age of self-loathing, where few things are whiter than white people making fun of white folks, and nobody decolonizes so much as recolonizes in a different more exciting way, and I'd hate my own creation and set it on fire one night, by accident on purpose, to save me having to interact with the filthy self-important privileged human beings that one is required to interact with to have a successful business in late stage capitalism.

But I'd definitely have chicken gizzards, because nowhere makes good gizzards. There was even a soul food spot in the gentrified portion of Belmont, and they had gizzards, and I got them, thinking they'd be great, but they wasn't. Most places don't even fuck with them. My favorite gizzard spot right now is a gas station outside of Dillwyn, true Southside Virginia, where the last time I stopped they still had peach Perriers a dollar each if you got two, and the lady working the food counter was talking shit to a logging trucker who stopped in for lunch and threatening him with the butcher knife, and he was like "You see how she do me?" to me, and then I got involved, and we all talked shit together like a bunch of bumpkin ass multi-racial hicks in true and living southside Virginia style, while she filled up styrofoam clamshells with gizzards and livers for the both of us. That's my five-star review, but I ain't telling you what gas station outside Dillwyn, or where Dillwyn is. Find it, then try all the gas stations that got gizzards. Do your own research, bitch.

My dad's favorite meal was fried chicken livers, made them on his birthday every year, big heaping plate full of livers with onions and mustard. I always preferred the gizzards but looking back I wonder if that was one of those trickle down things, like I knew he was gonna eat all the damn livers so I trained myself to love the gizzards. Although I guess nowadays livers are sold separately, and gizzards and hearts come in packs together.

I love chicken hearts too, from when I was younger at a big ass drunken cookout as a kid, and one of my dad's friends put the hearts on the grill (which was an old grate from a long gone kitchen stove sitting on cinderblocks over a fire), and at first I was like "eww, hearts," but then I had them and loved them.

The process of writing is always beneficial because some barbaric shit will make itself obvious when you type it out. Reading "I love the hearts of chickens grilled over a fire on an old stove grate" is kinda shocking to the cultured ass word typing side of me. But then again both sides aren't really sides, and it's all 69ing inside of me - big ol' spiraling ball of dirtgod energy. All of this is who I am, and I love it.

P00R CH01C3S 1S MY M1DDL3...

"poor choices is my middle

name," I once told a woman

outside Nashville bus station

1 C4LL TH1S MY 4B0VT T0...

I call this my "about to

play dominoes with Tupac

in Malaysia" ensemble

SONG OF THE DAY: Gimme a Pigfoot (and a Bottle of Beer)

This “Gimme a Pigfoot” song was made famous at first by Bessie Smith, but this LaVern Baker version ain’t really fucking around none. The song was originally written by Kid Wilson and Coot Grant, a husband and wife songwriting team who performed on the southern black vaudeville circuit, and DID NOT GIVE A FUCK. Kid Wilson was really named Wesley Wilson, but went by Kid, although also had the nickname Sox so that he was more often than not billed as Kid “Sox” Wilson. He had previously been in a duo with another dude, billed as Pigmeat Pete and Catjuice Charlie. (Wilson was Catjuice.) There is never any lack of need for more songs about FUCK Y’ALLS BULLSHIT LET’S JUST LOUNGE, OKAY, because with microbreweries and the gentrification of the entire Earth, and establishments making themselves only available to the segment of society with the most discretionary income, places of great indiscretion are fewer and farther between. And while I don’t eat pork, so ain’t trying to gnaw on no pigfoot, plus am almost nine years sober, I WOULD GLADLY TRADE ALL THESE FUCKIN’ LAME ASS PLACES PEOPLE GO TO FOR A SPOT THAT HAD CHEAP ASS BEER AND PIGFEET, READY TO ROLL. We’ve progressed beyond being able to fuckin’ chill.

There’s a great lesson from the survival mode of rural juke joints and the Chitlin’ Circuit, that despite the prevailing rules of the larger finer society, you can create these autonomous zones to get wild and happy within. I’m not sure people realize that any more. Everybody seems so keen on getting a seat at the table, that nobody thinks, “man, fuck y’all’s table” and does their own damn thing out where the assholes ain’t bothering to look. AND NO MATTER HOW MUCH THE ASSHOLES GET INTO YOUR HEAD, TRYING TO CONVINCE YOU HOW POWERFUL THEY ARE, THEY CAN’T LOOK EVERYWHERE.

TH3 TW1ST3D G30M3TRY...

the twisted geometry

of master planners high off

their own lack of innate chill

SONG OF THE DAY: Baby Makin' Beats

rainy sunday bumpin beats 

drankin corny ass coffee w/the hazlenut drip 

thinkin about how I miss the rain on the tin roof 

and the leak on the front porch 

but it's alright 

the laundry room light went out 

in this moldy basement apartment 

and I ain't gonna bother the landlord to fix it 

bc they assholes anyways 

everybody is strugglin 

everybody feels doomed 

everybody is one tragedy away from contemplating suicide 

to a deeper level than they'd publicly admit 

none of us alone right now 

though the ways we been trained to connect 

make us feel more disconnected than ever 

that's by design 

them devils know the divide & conquer trick

and it's multiple forces of devils using it

devils every goddamned where

but so is good

shit's embedded in our heart

just gotta pay attention to it

start calculating more heart math

listen to the rain

put a pen in your hand and write shit down

scribble words pictures truths

don't share it where these devils can see it

with their self-ordained all-seeing eyes

which ain't really everywhere

pass notes

we're all strugglin

we all feel doomed

that's by design

so let's pass notes

draw up something new

for after this falls down

they say this way is cancelled

we gonna hit the end

it's gone too far and gotten too old

I say fuck it

let's make a new baby

and keep growing

like mycelium not economy

keep it underground

connecting tendrils of real life people

who help each other feel safe

to admit all the shit troubling us all

to one degree

or another

TR4D3R J03'S P0T ST1CK3RS F0R...

Trader Joe's pot stickers for

breakfast before sun rises,

long day of meandering

T1M3 TR4V3L1NG 4DV3NTVR3S...

time traveling adventures

of Dirtgod and Pam Grier,

in our Impala spaceship

SM4LL T0WNS WH1CH W1LL N3V3R B3...

small towns which will never be

great again, no matter how

much politicians promise

SONG OF THE DAY: Flag of Hate

WAS CONTEMPLATING FRIDAY IN FALL FEELINGS OF FUCK-IT-NESS, WITH A PERSONAL HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE.

40 YRS AGO I WOULD’VE BEEN 6, SO PROBABLY JUST COMING HOME FROM SCHOOL, FUCKING OFF, HOPING THINGS WEREN’T CRAZY.

30 YRS AGO I WOULD’VE BEEN AMPED UP FOR DRUNKEN AND DRUGGED DEBAUCHERY. FALL WAS ALWAYS A GREAT TIME TO DROP ACID, AND HIDE OUT ON LOGGING TRAILS WITH FRIENDS, BEING YOUNG AND STUPID AND BEAUTIFUL AND TRYING TO RUSH AGE EVEN DEATH.

20 YRS AGO WOULD’VE HAD A BABY AND ALSO WORKED AT THE COPY SHOP HALF A DAY ON SATURDAYS SO LIKELY STILL DRANK TO GET DRUNK BUT NOT SO MUCH I WAS A NON-FUNCTIONING ALCOHOLIC.

10 YRS AGO WOULD’VE BEEN SELF-EMPLOYED THUS MOSTLY UNEMPLOYED AND ALSO VERY MUCH A POUNDER OF A 12-PACK A DAY, LIKELY AT HOME, WITH THREE CHILDREN NOW, AND MAN I’M SO FUCKING THANKFUL I AM WHO I AM NOW NOT WHAT I WAS ALL OF THOSE OTHER THENS, ALTHOUGH ALL OF THAT MADE ME WHAT THIS IS NOW.

I WONDER WHAT WILL BE TEN YEARS FROM NOW?

RVNN1NG B3TW33N TW0 L1N3S 0F...

running between two lines of

bed sheets drying outside, like

a space portal for children

TH3 1LLVS10N 0F R1GHT N0W...

the illusion of right now

often gets overwhelming;

disappear for a long walk

D1RTG0D N0NS3NS3 G1BB3R1SH...

dirtgod nonsense gibberish

curriculum vitae is

difficult to be complete

W4LK1NG P4ST WH0L3 C1TY BL0CKS...

walking past whole city blocks

that's two generations out

of my possible price range

SONG OF THE DAY: Anti

We had a War Games rap battle event this past weekend, our third, and it went down pretty well. Solid DJs plus solid direction plan helped. We’ve got a Brass Knuck title for the illest MC who controls the stage, everybody else get the fuck off, and that battle had both people do two songs (challenger first/champion second) then perform a third knockout song. The challenge was a female MC, Shamika Shard’e, and she absolutely fucked up the third song, like there was no doubt she was gonna win that shit. The way we run these is with a homemade cage, like MMA or wrestling, and three judges who score the competitors. Shamika won on unanimous decision.

The main event was a battle rap, featuring hometown hood battle rap legend Versity Rell vs. our champion Fellowman. Crowd was in Rell’s corner, but he did slip up in second round a little, and still got off some of the hottest lines. Fellowman won on judges scorecards, split decision, and there was a couple folks in the crowd heated about that. I mean Rell had his mama at the show to watch.

BlackLiq was one of our judges, and the thing I love about this dude is he’s always straight up, even if what he’s got to say ain’t what you was hoping to hear. Our host (my brother Remy St. Clair) had the judges speak on why they scored it the way they did, and BlackLiq was straight up with the crowd, no sugar coating. Then he hung out for a while, rode back to Richmond and hosted his radio hip hop show later that night. The dude is putting in work constantly. He’s put out a freestyle mixtape every month this year from his vast radio show archives, in anticipation of dropping a new album project in 2020. “Anti” comes off his last album project, which is slamming as fuck. I appreciate people who don’t necessarily slap that “creative” noun on their own ass, as an identity, and instead are just out here doing the work every damn day, building worlds. The rest of civilization notices little by little, and might not notice at all sometimes, but you’re still putting in that constant grinding work to build those worlds you need to see, need to express, want to make bigger. I respect artists like that so much more than self-identified creatives or people gaming the system with the same shit some other dude two neighborhoods over is doing.

Bonus footage of our 9 Pillars War Games heavyweight title battle rap below...

S0M3T1M3S 1 W0RRY 4B0VT...

sometimes I worry about

Flint, Michigan, kids making

Kool-Aid at home while alone

4LL TH3S3 D1FF3R3NT D0LL4R...

all these different dollar

store franchises is run by

the same goddamned people, y'all

M34ND3R1NG BLV3 H1GHW4YS...

meandering blue highways

between midnight and sunrise,

watching America fade

UPCOMING HAIKU SLAMS

The 411 on upcoming Sovthern Gothic Fvtvrist Haiku Slams.

• SATURDAY NOVEMBER 23 - CHARLOTTESVILLE VA - TWISTED BRANCH TEA BAZAAR

OUR YEAR END EVENT! Featuring a Tournament of Haiku Death Matches, plus two open battle royals between tournament rounds. The 8 competitors for the final tournament championship of 2019 will be announced on social media.

I do also have an official (lol) website now, with a page on haiku slams there as well - check it out - and book me to come do one of these things in your neck of the woods.

1M4G1N4RY T0VRN4M3NTS...

imaginary tournaments

in my head, early Sunday

morning, at quiet Rives Park

TH0S3 B3M04N1NG TH3 W0RLD'S 3ND...

those bemoaning the world's end

underestimate nature's

power (as humans tend to)

STR41GHT L1N3S 4TT3MPT1NG T0 M4K3...

straight lines attempting to make

order of fractals which were

designed with astro logic

TH0VGHTS BL0SS0M FR0M 1D10T'S...

thoughts blossom from idiot's

mind, which quickly scatters them

all digitized directions

C0NT3MPL4T1NG P0W3R M0V3S...

contemplating power moves

off the digital grid, since

effort far outweighs returns

L0NGH41R3D R3DN3CKS TH4T L0V3 TRVMP...

longhaired rednecks that love Trump

and believe blue lives matter

are delusional as fuck

P4R4D1NG 4R0VND TH3 Y4RD...

parading around the yard,

clutching my glorious cock (which is an award winner)

3NT1T13S 0F S0L4R FL4R3...

entities of solar flare

trapped in human form which

walk amongst you, half-ignored

W0VLD L0V3 T0 H4V3 B0VGHT TH1S 0LD...

would loved to have bought this old

T-bird, added digital

dash, sub-woofer, candyflake

4TT3MPTS T0 D1R3CT M3 H4V3...

attempts to direct me have

always been met with stubborn

resistance; got that goat heart

4M1DST TH3 D3TR1TVS...

amidst the detritus

of civilization shall

life continue to blossom

V4C4NT B0X ST0R3S W1TH BR0K3N...

vacant box stores with broken

glass doors hidden around side -

permanent vagrancy signs

D3C4Y1NG 1NDVSTR14L...

decaying industrial

landscape blessed by color blasts -

capital's dying returns

L4Y3RS 0F V4ND4L1SM...

layers of vandalism

creating a resistant

patina of fuck shit up

SPR4Y P41NT1NG D3CL4R4T10NS...

spray painting declarations

of warning in drippy black from

the Wal-Mart an hour away

P0L1T1C4L V14GR4...

political viagra

dosages secretly slid

in subconscious through missives

SONG OF THE DAY: Lingerie

I’m not sure if I can still love Lizzo in a conscious way, as she’s quickly been adopted by neoliberal dreams and will likely be a Democratic Presidential candidate theme song next year. But in the subconscious way, I still like to imagine a don’t-give-a-fuck woman sitting around in lingerie because she was born ready. So I’ll just listen to this and pretend a thick woman is gonna sit on my face, and ignore the part where that raw spirit will be co-opted by a conglomerate of wealthy entities who believe they have a better vision for the future of America’s generation of empirical profits than the current conglomerate of wealthy entities, who are doing it all wrong. Fuck politics. Somebody come sit on my face.

S0 M4NY N0T10NS BL0SS0M 1N...

so many notions blossom in

mind, but body lacks the space

to make them reality

4TT3MPT1NG T0 F1ND F0CVS...

attempting to find focus

in world full of distractions;

age creeping in like kudzu

B3 TH4NKFVL F0R WH4T Y0V'V3 G0T...

"Be Thankful For What You've Got"

moments galore, but never

had cars that shine like mirrors

SONG OF THE DAY: Tamasheq

digital nomads not actually moving 
the reason noise music has become prominent 
is because it's the only way to hear 
above the constant buzzing din 
of dullard engineering 
doldrums of existence 

even if what you are as a people 
has been disconnected from the past 
and plugged into false histories 
one-inch deep and easily washed away 
by flood or fire 
you are still something else entirely 
than this you have consumed 
something else that has metaphysical genetics 
that go back to ancient wanderers 

this buzzing din of dullard engineering 
doldrums of existence is not 
your innate sound 
so make some fuckin' noise 
scare away the devils 

G0T 4B4ND0NM3NT 1SSV3S...

got abandonment issues

but stubborn mentality

(like old beat-up white work van)

W4LK1NG THR0VGH 4RT MVS3VM...

walking through art museum

curated by trespassers,

admiring unseen artists