k so after this rhyme i need to
get on top of tha
essays try to make them all propera
edit rewrite and not afraid to choppera
the lines, words, rhythm
schemes make decisions
knowledge transmission fission
the subject object schism
Roland Barthes says the Author gets deady
when the Reader gets born, alright already?
they make the tragedy become so Greek
the narrative will be inherited by the meek
post-struct says you're not really what you speak
but most forget that it's humanism ain't so bleak

for Jess, and anyone else who's looking for texts that are either out of print or hard to find, check out:
www.powells.com

also Jess, how's the Baudrillard coming? i've been going through "Reading Simulacra" by m.w. Smith and he goes into this whole comparison of Baudrillard's Simulation/Seduction with Nietzsche's Truth is a Woman and Derrida's Veils and it's fuckin' mind blowing.

WHAT THE HELL!?!! That last post is supposed to say "FRESH BAIT PROMOTIONS"... not FISH bait. Damn... how'd I fuck that one up?! I coulda swore I proof-read it before I posted it. shit.

Servin up fresh beats like we're Fish Bait Promotions
Shark Tank servin fresh meat with the power of local commotions
like Dance Floor Disasters they bring us the wonder of the Oceans
all the little fishies like vertices in the interstices of Euclidean space
Props to the Jameses and the Tracys from the clit-eatin' Face.

Damn, we be servin' up some fresh beats here, fo' shizzle!!

Misery likes company eh?

Doin homework still...

working on a month and a halfs worth of work in 3 days

oh joyous fun

no wizzle! no nizzobody sizzle my fizzle
can't touch that the smokin' stanza
datsun shake ya hand like Sir Anthony Danza
no i mean Hopkins, creamed like soft skin
spins heads in 360 degrees please hold your lunch
hunch you'll be makin' room got stomach knots like Brady
cause i gotta mean bunch said curtsey 'my lady
she's a tramp hardly 80
said can't love her, pay me
P says you all is crazy
crunk or even maybe
ready for funkmasta flex
cpu's slow better check for the specs
better get Par to remove that permanent scar
i'm talkin' T.U.B, what kind of girl is she?
is the rust comin' out of the eyes, or can you even see?
that diamonds are forever, ain't 'Nobody' do it better

P-Scat passin the mike faster than tikes riding trikes thru kikes-and-other-le-dykes
His razorblade-tongue doing coke with lines better than Dirk doing Like Mike
the lines spoke shooting straight to yer head like the soft kiss of hot lead
He's an upstart hotshot punchin gunshots through your saggital-keels faster than Meals-on-Hot-Wheels
P-Dott's doin Speed Racers shooting vodka shots for absynthe chacers
his needle on the vein-tracers makin us no-facers look fetal
kuz my style's undeveloped and I burnt my tongue on the acetyl
doin acid like the Beatles and Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.

Seen on a rival message board:

neufy 1: m r fish
neufy 2: m r not fish
neufy 1: m r fish c d e d b d ii
neufy 2: whale oil beef hooked
neufy 2: m r fish

2 newfenlanders lookin over the side of a boat:)

ahh Diddy so you did mean strunts
now i look like Jere's 'Pen' punchline
or Missy Elliot's dunce
but us Azn boyz 'gotta do our thangy thing'
since we can't drink nor dance, drive nor sing
but when it comes down to the 'cold'
i like it ghetto as in bottle a 'Mo
and you know it don't stop when it starts to flow
shows no sign until our blush we consigns
i'll be fallin' on my face like i was blind
but i've got some dawgs to drag my ass
when the drink is drinking me into its flask
and i gets dizzy like i was on Kish Kash
i'm makin' a dash for the b-line
free keystyles ain't hard to find
inside the mind of the genius
you can't cop or glean this
bliss is ignorance
and it's ignorance i ream and dis
cause like sleep it's the cousin of death
and what you'll smell is the truth that's on my breath