TH3 R3P3T1T1V3 P4TT3RNS...

the repetitive patterns

concealing mundane culture;

the walls full of rot and mold

PR1M1T1V3 4N4RCH1ST R3D...

primitive anarchist red

and black viking banners with

one thousand feathered ravens

S0L4R 3CL1PS3 D1G1T4L...

solar eclipse digital

camera cloud cover man

lounges outside forever

JJ Krupert Feb 2018 number two "parkside 5-2"

[timely track, with psychic props to Philly]

Biggie’s voice echoing with “it was all a dream...” 
Deck laying out "Earth no different from a cell..." 
Method Man explicating capitalized "C.R.E.A.M."... 
"it's like a jungle sometimes" booms gruff Melle Mel, 
"makes me wonder how I keep from going under"; 
grounded by my early boom baptism, pounding 
forties and blunts, 'til my upright was asunder, 
from '73 'til infinity, sounding 
furiously; "Signifying Rapper" Schoolly schooled young 
mack to other mythologies, moralizing 
me beyond white western propaganda well-hung 
but easily made impotent since disguising 
old masters' plans; small town mind gone by world premiere... 
Raven Mack refraining from living life with fear. 

K33P MY CR30S0T3 SH4D0WS...

keep my creosote shadows

as clean of that devils' math

as a simple man still can

N0T N34RLY 3N0VGH 1DL3...

not nearly enough idle

moments in utopian

industrial existence

WH1STL1NG L1K3 4XL R0S3 WH1L3...

whistling like Axl Rose while

shuffling through thickets along

well-concealed stone railroad bridge

4N0NYM0VS PR0PH3C13S...

anonymous prophecies

written in drip font while no

one is paying attention

SH1N3F4C3 PH1L0S0PH13S M4K3...

shineface philosophies make

for shineface oversized trucks

never blemished by guardrails

JJ Krupert Feb 2018 number one "syrup splash"

[met a white girl who rapped in Chinese 

at a tea house who reminded me 

Spark Master Tape was good like 

cup of warm kava on 

dark nights of the soul] 

Forty-five years and counting, but still stuck right here,

feeling as unheard as ever, wishing for that

slurred escape, pharma-fog to blur/make disappear

absurd life, living false, sittin' on nothing flat,

how did I get there? Can't remember precise path,

forgotten forks? Fuck it though, spoonfeed me codeine

and let me overdose on clouds, sweet grapes of wrath

flavored syzzurp to create blizzard of this obscene

abomination against the Power of Lounge

called civilization, mislabelled as progress;

rather be wobbling through woods, letting fingers scrounge

white trash quartz, stack dirtgod altars against noblesse,

making syrup splash in poisoned consciousness stream,

Biggie's voice echoing with "it was all a dream..."

N3V3R TRVST 4 TR33 WH1CH D0N'T...

never trust a tree which don't

stand at least as tall as two

full-grown balloon-headed men

JJ Krupert Feb 2018 intro

[nonsense gibberish oracle, 

turning one project into another, 

now this is sonnets too] 

Another year alive, wondering what it means

as them dreams get further buried in sands of time

while most my minutes spent paused mimicking machines,

moments lost forever hoping somehow I'll climb

out these numbers stacked against me, which prevents me

from moving quite as freely as my heart's wishing,

modern human condition - just trying to be

more real me, less human resource. Big boss phishing

for ways to keep me productive and occupied;

I remain resistant, within barbed wireless fence

wrapping circumference of brain, trained to divide

Earth into parcels, while heart intelligence

pumps "fuck that!" reminders, desires to disappear...

forty-five years and counting, but still stuck right here. 

T3CHN0L0G1C4L 4DV4NC3...

technological advance

casts a dark shadow over

sense of self-identity

twitter renga #0118

(last month's twitter renga at @rojonekku 

ended up pretty amazing) 

the calendar's been
flipped, but nothing much has changed...
same desk, same dead end

the chance for fresh perspective
often lost in these too-deep ruts

"hope springs eternal
in the human breast" was not
writ in cold weather

winter is time of darkness - 
ascetic nihilism

last night in full moon,
the kettlebell handle was
ten degrees at best

still I swung it, stubbornly
wearing black basketball shorts

viking berserker
blood exists somewhere within
my genetic muck

raven mack dirtgod thought and 
memory winter workout

hung from Yggdrasil,
bloody Odin received runes,
"word to word to word"

same: I prefer heavily
fortified mead of poetry

all mythologies
have similar tales of how
poetry was born

heart-innate mythologies
truer than brain's mad science

heart thinks like elder
beech - silently seeing all,
knowing what makes sense

brain thinks like fence - attempting
to separate existence

borders should be crossed,
identities dismantled,
all colonies burned

archive this poison culture
in ash; let's begin again

post-colonial
theory five hundred level
class, taught by beech tree

getting my masters in no
gods, no masters (just dirtgod)

perpetrate dirtgod
meditations to deny
natural born trash

to the upright world, still trash -
lackluster human resource

too fuckin' cold to
care; too fuckin' old to try;
heart paralysis

cuddled under shitty quilts...
this world is too fuckin' much

counting off the days
until springtime, when I'll bloom
like fuckin' redbuds

I have faith in the purple
protocols of warm rebirth

Allah bumps mad Screw -
just look at redbud blossoms
and echinacea

la ilaha illallah
la ilaha illallah

worthlessness feelings
fought off with simple dhikr's
internal jihad

la ilaha illallah
la ilaha illallah

people got it all
figured out, in ways which feel
alien to me

is your happiness for real?
please friend, hydrocodone me

opioids and gods -
it's self-medication or
self-revelation

papaver somniferum's
smoky embrace perhaps both

opium access
limited but opioids
in great abundance

manufactured blooms of free
market capitalism

tired of pretending
progress still possible while
madness reigns supreme

fuck y'all fake motherfuckers
la ilaha illallah

the myth of progress -
simple-brained humanity's
Sisyphean stone

stubborn homo sapiens
still believing they own hype

knowing with the brain
is over-complicated process
of smashing apart

knowing with the heart easy
as fuck - sit there, check your self

humans ain't shit but
hoes & tricks... suck on these nuts
& lick on this dick

lol, not really y'all...
I'm selective with my dick

penis has no heart
nor brains - direct connect to
gut intuition

vagina I can't speak for
(wish more dudes would think like that)

Not All Men will help
you deconstruct and destroy
then rebuild from scraps

even those that appear to
be allies might be man-wolves

majority of
modern people - woman or 
man - is fake as fuck

constant public relations
device in hand doesn't help

always tell myself
"fuck y'all fake motherfuckers"
when walking through world

double middle fingers to
the mirror to keep self hyped

dusty ass bathroom
mirrors reflecting too damn
much sadness lately

can't wait for spring to unlock
redbud blossom raven mack

"hope is as hollow
as fear" said the poet,
quoting Tao Te Ching

thoughts of bamboo stalks growing
along both sides of a fence

moments not minutes
meditations as I sit
through morning meetings

my paycheck work is not my
real work - I am an artist

a Natural Born
Artist, regardless of lot
in life work assigned

a Natural Born Artist,
all eight directions, all day

a Natural Born
Artist can't be quantified,
needs not a co-sign

Natural Born Artists have
illegitimate nature

"what exactly is
your art?" a non-believing
gatekeeper might ask

"ev'rything motherfucker"
all eight directions, all day

save your poetry
for secretive submissions;
I blast mine like howls

assimilation is for
those who believe in system

last night, Saul Williams
said "fuck the beliefs" as they
are our minds' police

the internal jihad of
shooting cops inside your brain

Raven Mack Dirtgod
internal jihad - remain
at odds with gridlock

a Natural Born Artist
sowing fractal geospheres

shout out and love to
all Natural Born Artists
sowing y'all's wild seeds

fuck orders fuck submissions
fuck the beliefs which choke y'all

artists natural
born tend to feel like artists
natural forlorn

the legitimate world spins
upon a crooked axis

the mantra remains
FUCK Y'ALL FAKE MOTHERFUCKERS
'til covered with dirt

the fake own the so-called "real
world" in its small entirety

one day your power
grid will fail; the fog depends
on batteries' buzz

once the fog clears, we'll shine our
guillotines with devil blood

25-Man Metaphysical Roster: Crystal Palace F.C.

[the original "Crystal Palace"]

[25-Man Metaphysical Roster is a football dork methodology meant to establish a listing of players who have been most active for English Premier League teams in their past 100 non-friendly matches. Essentially, it is calculated by minutes played, but weighted towards most recent games. The end result is a listing of the 25 players in a team’s recent history who have had the largest hand on their metaphysical sporting trajectory. The English Premier League was chosen because it is the highest level of football played in an English speaking country, and I speak English. Also, it is what comes on TV here in the USA, where I fucking live. And yet still I should clarify I hate English, and also America. Thus maybe I hate myself. Should I not fail in maintaining my unpaid deadline, a new 25-Man Metaphysical Roster will appear on the 1st and 15th of every month.]

This would’ve been the second time I did Crystal Palace, but also cause for celebration because they would’ve jumped over two dead club bodies who did not make it back around for a second 25-Man service in Sunderland and Hull City. No blurbs because later in the game filler.

#1: Wilfried Zaha (up from #3 last time Crystal Palace was 25-Manned on 15-Mar-2017)

#2: Joel Ward (down from #1 last time)

#3: Andros Townsend (up from #13 last time)

#4: Wayne Hennessey (up from #6 last time)

#5: Christian Benteke (up from #12 last time)

#6: Yohan Cabaye (up from #7 last time)

#7: Luke Milivojevic

#8: James Tomkins (up from #14 last time, also previously #23 for West Ham United on 01-Jun-2017)

#9: Martin Kelly (same as last time)

#10: Jason Puncheon (down from #5 last time)

#11: James McArthur (down from #8 last time)

#12: Scott Dann (down from #4 last time)

#13: Jeffery Schlupp (up from #23 last time)

#14: Patrick van Aanholt (previously #1 for Sunderland on 15-Feb-2017)

#15: Damien Delaney (down from #2 last time)

#16: Timothy Fosu-Mensah

#17: Ruben Loftus-Cheek (previously #22 for Chelsea on 15-Sep-2017)

#18: Mamado Sakho

#19: Julian Speroni (up from #25 last time)

#20: Bakary Sako (up from #21 last time)

#21: Joseph Ledley (down from #10 last time)

#22: Chung-Yong Lee (down from #18 last time)

#23: Pape Souare (down from #11 last time)

#24: Jairo Riedewald

#25: Connor Wickham (down from #17 last time)

4 N4TVR4L B0RN 4RT1ST...

a Natural Born Artist

unable to properly

contain output for market

JJ Krupert Jan 2018 number thirteen "bad to the bone"

of course Your Ol’ Droog is the Big Lots Nas for Williamsburg Brooklyn tinkersmith hackerspace *working* class types WITH AUTHENTIC WORKING CLASS ROOTS LIKE A GRANDFATHER WHO OWNED A FARM to be cool with. it pairs well with the Action Bronson Big Lots Ghostface model. [plz note: I don’t diss either of these acts necessarily, as obviously I am listening to Your Ol’ Droog if he shows up here, and it’s hard to really find too much fault with Action Bronson because he seems to just genuinely be enjoying himself, although then again I almost typed it as “AB” which could mean Aryan Brotherhood too so mb this whole slew of clever sort of sounds like rappers is a giant White Supremacist conspiracy to funnel hip hop into a darker direction.] [obviously I just used “darker” in terms of psycho social implications, not skin tone; plz update your stereotypical frame of references accordingly]

4NG3L1C DR4W1NG BL3SS3S...

angelic drawing blesses

me in passing, wasting time

behind the Greyhound station

JJ Krupert Jan 2018 number twelve "mercyful fate"

Not sure how I feel about Vinnie Paz/Ill Bill heavy metal themed rap project. Vinnie Paz always occupies this psychic territory for me that I’m like really into it, but also highly skeptical at the same time. So for now, I have been enjoying some of the Heavy Metal Kings library, because I too am a hip hop head with dirtweed metalhead juvenile delinquency roots, but I don’t know man, I just don’t know. I might disavow this shit at any point.

Still though, sick video. Any time King Diamond and hip hop come together I will at least arbitrarily be like “oh okay cool.” We got two cats a while back, one yellow from the shelter, as requested by my fam, but I also got this little all black runt kitten because I was like “damn, ain’t nobody gonna take that fucked up little runt ass black cat with the splotchy hair and shit.” I wanted to name him King Diamond. This was nixed by my household because I am the only former metalhead there. So instead I named him Lounger, and as a kitten he slept on top of LPs in a crate and now he kills all the fuckin’ mice, which is a benefit in an old farmhouse like the one we try to call home. Anyways, he kills so much shit because he’s supposed to be named King Diamond. Also he is a cat. Cats are murderous as fuck.

JVST 4 L0N3LY C0VNTRY B0Y...

just a lonely country boy,

wandering the riverside,

searching for fertile crescents

JJ Krupert Jan 2018 number eleven "ringing bells"

You get a lot of light quickly

He sent the air this world gift

They are fed with the offerings of the offerings.

There is no objective decision

You can close the roof

Microscope, exposure to the worm

Learn to eat poisoning

I show you how to spend six

The top of Risin 'Perden can hardly be seen with the naked eye

I live when I live and I go immediately

This is the eastern part of New York, Brooklyn.

Do you want Bang Beat Ass, Glamorous Techniques?

In the middle of the shoulder we spray Swingin spray

Just a moment in Prom Night

We believe in having a dial

We give you the biggest prayer

Each sentence is a timeline that you can define

How to make a hero game and a relative story

'Time Out', with a strong voice, "I'm black and I'm proud"

For "Crack Fucking" for all kinds of suspicions

My Nation - Chapels and Chasin Reports'

For the degree of God

Each MC guarantees that the Steppin is in place.

I wrote a red one in my head

For the blood of all my people

For this reason, the microphones broke too fast.

[verse 1, ran thru google translate, English to Persian, Persian to Turkish, Turkish to Welsh, Welsh to Spanish, Spanish to English]

L4T3 M0D3L 3LD0R4D0...

late model Eldorado

on chrome rims fantasies, but

born to a Hot Wheels budget

W4ND3R1NG THR0VGH M34N1NGL3SS..

wandering through meaningless

places, disengaging from

passing faces, headed nowhere

freestyle sonnet #100: UPON CONTEMPLATING THE ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF THE WE THE PEOPLE LIMO GETTING SET ON FIRE

Weeds consume incomplete concrete inhumane grid 

deigned to keep the peace through orderly division 

of paths, but police can't keep track all they forebid, 

so manifestation of wild folk envision 

autonomous spots along the larger margins, 

encouraging a revolution hid inside 

shadows, without asking, without begging pardons, 

without pretending system isn't denied 

freedom as legal procedure. Fuck cops, fuck laws - 

at least those designed by fallible people who 

succumb to their own corruption easily. Flaws 

in the wild are natural and perfect - chop/screw 

back notion that nations somehow are anything 

but post-feudal bullshit which makes the wealthy king.