Early in the day, I'm awakened by sunrays
Disturbing like gunplay, hit the pavement like runways
‘cause today is a suday, I'm packing a spray-paint
leave a stain on the L train, writing words on a new way

in relation to mistakes we knew would break us into two
you can watch the news and choose a place to take a stand and lose
dude, and that's the truth, pessimism is a vision
I've imagined but eradicated in the wake of realism

Real decisions, make ‘em now while you're living
Distribute your contributions, don't refute that sinking feeling
Deep in your sternum, it travels up to your heart
Then plunges into your stomach, the patron saint of your art

Is faking jacks, taking back, everything we ever stood for
Laying traps, talking smack, talking ‘bout the good war
You could score big in the towers of steel
Or battle begging on a penny for the steady reveal

How does it feel? Snapped and trapped in a track of looping reel
Wrapped, in fact, in a rabid battle for a pallet of sex appeal
The damage runs rampant unhampered by your lack of passion
Can't imagine a canvas more blasted by unhappy bastards

What happened to the magic? Did it vanish in a flash
Was it banished in a rash of bad decisions in the past
Does it matter as I gamble, and I scramble up the scrabble
Slamming hammer feet like gavels as I travel over gravel

Basket case space cadet: check.

I don't want to say something I'll regret,
but what you don't get
is a single bite off of my plate, I don't make idle threats.

My idol is blessed;
She; shimmering sandstone,
Standing wet under the waterfall flung from some above hung holy hall
Standing strong and tall,
yet soft under it all.

That's mine right there:
Standing under the rainbow halo
If you don't know, now you know,
Never knew quite how to be humble.

Couldn't stay quiet, often lost control
In the throes of passion, and madness, heads will roll

Survey says, after the poll:
She's not your half-nothing, under-anything
And I'm the remedy for your fanatical state of fantasy

I her soldier, she my majesty
She the brush, I her canvassing
I the thousand steps, and she the long trek

So make like a turtle, and withdraw your neck.

What's up everybody? The Rain of Phreshness (copywrite pending) continues today with a solo selection from my partner in music, my partner in crime: MeYouSick.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Crazy Rockwell's Rain of Phreshness presents:

MeYouSick, Haterade

O my Brothers, it's been a busy buzz fighting my way through waves of the hive. Back in school. Back in love. Back in music. Back in action. 

I've got much more coming.

Daps, snaps, and claps. 

 

 

I haven't had a nightmare in a dog's age, but all night I was being chased by what looked like a man, but I knew was the Devil... or at least one of his Generals.

Perhaps "chased" is the wrong word, because there was no hope of escape: I was being toyed with; a game of cat and mouse full of laughter on one end and hoplessness on the other.

 From car-to-car on a moving train, running under overpasses at a pace no faster than molasses. Panic while pushing through a crowded city street and exposed lonely in a dark field of dreams.

Waking up exhausted and out of breath is no consolation: dark clouds hover above me but can't cover the ugly.

Anybody got a line on some Holy Water? None of that cheap shit either... I want the name-brand good stuff.

*Forewarning*

The following article contains direct references vulgarity, racism, hate, and vague references to something that will probably never touch your lives directly. That being said, try to remember that the author does not advocate nor encourage Hate in any of it's manifestations... I'm a Lover...

In other words, the opinions and views expressed in the following post do not necessarily represent the  opinions and views of Crazy Rockwell.

Plus, I'm drunk.

*/Forewarning*

 

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They came over the horizon, from places we can't pronounce,
with burning swords in hand
and the fear of God glazing their eyes.

Singing songs of sex, slaughter, and sunday
as a walking war-path becomes a run-way
and some still say they're never coming
when their ears go deaf from the rage of the drumming

And the distand land they've come to defend is not a desert

It's a city of broken glass
It's a tower still burning, out there in the past
It's rum in a flask
It's a blank-faced mask

And though the imminent vision of our pidgeon-holed home
Is shattered and scattered into the wind,
on ten thousand shining points of deadly light
tonight, I can't help but fall in love with a stranger.

 

 

 

They came under cover of night skies

With a mouthful of lies leaking on both sides

Daggers in their eyes and battle-flags in hand

Ass in the saddle of a camel sinking where it stands in the desert sand

 

They came in the middle of the daylight

High noon, painted white for the "good fight"

Hype to set the stage, claim they came to save the day

Shoulder chips for your wrist, enforcing their way

 

He came into a tissue at the stroke of twilight

He once upon a time wiped tears when he cried, now he lies to himself

            Blinding his eyesight

Now it's all comic books, porn, and platinum kush

Get ye behind me Satan, and push

I have a beef with God.

There, I said it.

 

Not to say that I subscribe to the idea that our universe is the manifestation of a big white guy in the sky,

 

I’m more inclined to say it’s more of a mechanical mechanism than a man, supposedly superior, but clearly in control.

 

The poor deity is likely incredibly lonely,

according to the Catholics he sends artists to purgatory.

However the story goes, we all seem to know

some sinners are saved, and some saints receive the low-blow

 

Moses,

my man,

holding holy courage to stand,

 

up to Gumption Alrighty

‘scuse me,

Mr. God Almighty:

 

“Moses,

My Man,

drag those chosen people through the sand

snack on manna, the nectar, then I expect you to stand

outside the Holy Land, the Battle Grounds, pawn unto a larger plan;

Arguing with Me? Be proud to be a sacrificial lamb.”

 

 

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I’ve apologized to the sky

one thousand times

 

…I’m still haunted by your eyes

 

I left you buried in lies and

baptized after death with the tears I cried

but it’s no surprise;

God hasn’t replied since I’ve brought you to your demise

 

A smile to break

A child’s mistake

A lesson to be learned and a trial to face

 

Bled, love spend on nights served with

Red blood wet on white fur.

 

Read More...

 

 

 

You can’t buy love but respect is for sale,

It’s auctioned off on the block and offered up in retail

Morals on backorder but your favorite vices

Are stocked and sold at affordable prices

 

Just pick a poison, venomous diversions

Keep your face from reflecting the regret of your perversions

As long as you’re ashamed, you’re a hermit-crab-dinner

On a platter, served up to your superior sinner

 

Come out of your shell, come correct, come clean

And be redeemed in your death, let yourself be seen

Public executions for intruding reclusives

Refusal to compete with political movements

 

Corporate sponsored courtrooms, flags with ad-space

A monopoly on monarchies, paper trails erased

For a fee, nothing’s free, especially if the market’s black

Give it up, sell out, they want the skin off your back

 

If everybody had a price and everybody sold

Their history for currency, for services and soul

Then everybody’s empty as the wallets that they fold

They play the game, but all get paid in paper fools gold

From ashes to actions and muscle to dust

You must bust your ass and trust the fascists till you rust

Just puff your grass, yeah, purchase bags at twenty bucks

Suck down the past, the future? No one gives a fuck.

 

Even if you own a private island and a jet,

You can bet you strive for something that you’re never gonna get

You can bet it’s all been bought, sold, damaged, repackaged

Advertised, exaggerated, all the lies that they’ve imagined

 

Are projected, pushed upon the people, eat it up

Bow down to purchasing power, I’ve heard enough

Jibber jabber from the chatter-box, television, magazines

I require silence, some respect, and if you target me

 

For marketing ploys, I’ll appear behind the crosshairs

Aiming right back at you, cold and callous, catch a lost fear

And the cost here’s a bank rupture, splitting at the seams

Spitting on your gilded dreams, hollow hearts and bloodstreams

 

If everybody had a price and everybody sold

Their history for currency, for services and soul

Then everybody’s empty as the wallets that they fold

They play the game, but all get paid in paper fools gold

 

I think they’ve gone too far: skinny women starve themselves

Man it’s all bizarre, addictive products on the shelves

Drive a monster car, a tank to take you straight to hell

We would raise the bar, but you were watching when it fell

 

I was bending over backwards in a limbo with a boom-box

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, I had my room locked

Didn’t realize my instinct to hide

Provided me with needed time to come to grip and individualize

 

Values, no, television couldn’t teach it.

The media’s been bought to sell and I don’t fucking need it

But they’ve already seeded far too many beaded eyes

Just stringing them along on an illusion, you’ve been hypnotized

 

And lied to, got you thinking image is king?

The things that I do, valuable like summer and spring

Does it surprise you? Everybody sort of looks the same

And it’s only getting worse, I can’t remember your name, you’re all the same

 

If everybody had a price and everybody sold

Their history for currency, for services and soul

Then everybody’s empty as the wallets that they fold

They play the game, but all get paid in paper fools gold
 

 

Welcome to the very first edition of Crazy Rockwell Reviews.

Today, I will be recapping the most recent episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force.

 

Dude, did you watch ATHF last night? Man, it was soooo fucking funny.

So, Frylock is updating his Myspace page and he gets three new friend requests, so he decides to invite them over for a little party.

Also, Shake makes a joke about Futurama moving to Comedy Central. And he makes a dick joke too.

So, they come over and they're like, fruits: it's a banana, a tangerine, and something. Whatever. But they're also hardcore, born-again Christians... except for that they start lapsing back into their old habits: alcoholism, crack smoking, and hobo humping.

It was pretty funny. You should totally watch it. 

 

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When I speak, you should hear gunshots:

Violent punctuation and an open palm when I take your money

 

Gunpowder blast, sparks flash and lead takes an upward dash

simply to prove my point, a magnum in the hand

of a man with less to lose than the typical American.

 

"Don't you dare" move a muscle.

This will only hurt for a second.

 

 

Rapidly happening and passing you by,

I’m tossing thoughts on the fly and catching kisses on the sly

A contact high, that I contracted through a passionate

Embrace so contagious fools thought it was a fashion hit

 

Inaction is tragic, I wanna make waves

Grab a bull by the horn, a handful of pain

Bleeding through another page, blinded by rage

I’m in need of some healing; let me feel your face

 

And bruise it into braille for a far sighted beggar

Looking forward, corresponding with an open ended letter

All along an epilogue, fuck a trend-setter

Man, I can’t believe you bought it, thought that things were getting better?

 

Bullshit! That’s not coffee in your cup,

Yeah, you must’ve been sleeping when you swallowed it up,

But awakened from sedation, angry, justified, reminded,

Finding lies, the kind that tie you down and leave you dying binded

 

Etcetera, so on, like you know the blah blah blah blah blah

Babble catastrophe, infected with andromeda,

Stomp on your father, give it up, get down, hip-hop on pop,

Standard with the gamble-chatter, give it up, it’s gotta stop

 

 

 

Smoothly removing magic markers out of K-Mart,

Vandalizing advertising banners past the radar,

Invisible ink, I go unnoticed and hopeless,

A tragic romantic, fuck me, falling through the focus

 

When everybody watches, all the cautious eyes intensify,

Paranoia, pyrokinesis, I’m being magnified

Bursting into burning bush, blaring into babble-sound

Send the suckers out to explore a foreign battle-ground

 

Travel down a mountain range, dirty but relentless

Trail-blazer burning through books and mending fences

Over the distance, fist folded over photographs

Added to my album or unfortunately torn in half,

 

Gotta laugh a little looking back and getting brittle,

Wrap me up in pine like a violin or fiddle, but

Riddles are redundant, cumbersome, excessive baggage,

Overloaded, overflowing, mow the hometown-field advantage

 

Etcetera, so on, like you know the blah blah blah blah blah

Babble catastrophe, infected with andromeda,

Stomp on your father, give it up, get down, hip-hop on pop,

Standard with the gamble-chatter, give it up, it’s gotta stop

 

 

I can't believe what I've seen:

from the prize to my eyes there's been a veil in-between.

Too many scenes of red and green up on the TV screen

have left me brutal and rude, I'm paranoid and mean.

 

Fruit from the poisonous tree infects the boisterous G,

he's got a voice you can see and a sound that pounds on your spleen.

He's having dreams of panicked fascists on the move and the breed,

Even though it's tragic like black magic, he smokes until he can't breathe,

 

know what I mean? I plot of dots to be connected,

rocking not to be rejected, tower tops to be erected

holding camera spy-gear for your terror and blind fear.

It's a trip to just climb here, without spilling my tall beer

 

that I'm sipping... or chugging like that fated train,

over the hill again, on the tracks constructed with pain

and so I'm upping the gain and saying fuck-all to fame.

I brought myself a new name in case I'm winded from the change:

 

You must focus,

like a telescopic lens, got your eyes on the horizon with intent to extend.

You must focus,

like a magnifying glass, gather energies around us 'till the heat blasts.

You must focus,

like a camera's aperture, line up your desire, click the shutter then capture

Just focus,

that's the reason why I wrote this: get yourself together, all the blurry shit is bogus

Just focus

 

on the honor, honesty, and the hostility.

We obviously need a broader scheme to bring on modesty,

the farthest forest through the trees is breathing in simplicity

and instantly symphony bursts with so much synchronicity

 

So listen missy: to the singing in the city

for the sting inside the pity of the blingin' and pretty

On a mission is he? For the analogue and midi,

missionary to the gritty images of Walter Mitty

 

With a witty mind, little time implies a bigger picture

With a simple wind, watch him grind inside until the fixture

shines with blinding light, righteous, and he might just speak:

"Stare into the sun unless your sight test is weak"

 

You must focus,

like a telescopic lens, got your eyes on the horizon with intent to extend.

You must focus,

like a magnifying glass, gather energies around us 'till the heat blasts.

You must focus,

like a camera's aperture, line up your desire, click the shutter then capture

Just focus,

that's the reason why I wrote this: get yourself together, all the blurry shit is bogus

Just focus

Frustrated and maimed insane, framed in stains

and named the brainy shaman bound to claim the remains

and pain the pirate campaigns of politics and cocaine,

the collared wrists in your way of gripping living today...

 

or better yet now, count it down to hours then minutes,

divide ridiculous increments 'till you're sitting in the present,

you don't need to repent... unless your power's been unlit

and you've devoured all your id to tarot towers in your bid.

 

You didn't live that way, recognize the sublime

and write a rhyme on surprise of life's divinest confines,

remind the jaded, dejected, the wrecked, repressed, and rejected

that life is only what you make it, when you give it you can take it

 

Just Focus.