for JB
mastadon. Huckleberry Expletive. Sweetest taboo boo poop don’t stink I think tank crank that soldier money in the bank. Shorty, what do you drink? Hath the rain a father? Yea. I saith unto thee, fear him. Holy Ghostride the whippletree this’ll be bad for my image bad for my image bad bad bad super bad really really bad say goodnight/ to the sound/ of one gat clap-clap-clapping. I bet that pun appears in tons of rap songs and I just don’t know it because I don’t listen to much rap. But fuck it: buttfuck it. Make the booty clap like a Maenadic audience. I’m Denzel when he say all that jelly and no toast. I’m Stallone hanging my mitts on the rafters, Adrian-flashing my lats. Tom Cruise, motherfucker, Top Gun, Gene Kelly! Doing my own stunts, stuntin’ like my mackdaddy. When I say “this poem” you say “is on the fabled Daddymack” [something something something something something something] cadillac! That rhyme I for sure know is at least in one rap song, preceded by “big, bad,” I’m bad, get down, get back Muhfucker, you’nt know me like that [Get back Muhfucker you’nt know me like that?] it’s like that. It’s like bogarting blunt force trauma-o-rama; none higher. I’d tear the roof off if it weren’t still on fire. A phallic pillar of fire has led us way the fuck in the wrong direction. Break yourself or be broken. Sucka MCs can’t fuck with me. Is you rollin’ daddy? Bitch I might be. I might be like this forever. I might be like thee, heavenly father. I might be nothing like my press kit suggests it. Just arrested. Developmentally. Stunted.
