!J.I.G.G.S.A.W!

December 26, 2009


TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS

I know this redhead,
she scratched her dome when asked 2 groove—yes
we hyphy danced, her passion grow’d,
but when I blew breath she went back 2 brunette.
Confused yet?
She’s the match I hold, Ode 2 Muse
and Death 2 Slavery cuz my reckless bravery’s blown a fuse.
Wiley prance with nightly rants and moon serenades.
Chaos boil and bubble when life breathes chance and truth marinates.
Y’all toil and struggle in a fucking hell tomb, snared 2 take
ya parents place in a 2012 doom era stage…pleeeasse…
We take pencils and street paint,
weed blazed Grendels with stencils and wheat paste,
pregnant with these great mad monsters, trash hoppers with heads in cans;
sense enhanced cuz life’s a feast while u strive 2 eat.
You’re just cash chompers with dental plans,
memories trapped in your locked albums–
in the past with your thoughts never b glad with ya nostalgia,
Wanting change but waste it basking in bossed cowards
like pastors and cross-bowers prayin 4 rapture and gods power, shiiitt…
Stuck in a censored society,
kids got mental anxiety cuz the fucken parental advisories
say, “Rebel parties suck, curfew and stay plain!”
But gutter punks don’t give a motherfuck.
Aren’t we just worm food in grave plates?
I want fun and blunts! Yellow kid with spastic nerves
runnin up in a fellowship of travelers
and the saddlebags is packed up tight.

So u can keep your good ol’ days.
I’d rather have my BAD YOUNG NIGHTS!!!
Cuz I am not a man, I am dynamite
and I aint got a plan if I die 2night.
They say, “Go 2 sleep my little time bomb.”
Walking bonfire and im tryin 2 keep my light strong
I AM NOT A MAN, I AM DYNAMITE!
And I aint got a plan if I die 2night.
U c…I wanna know what brave is
Instead of sittin here pretending im not fucken dangerous.



WILL OF THE WISP

(1st verse)
We’re the riff raff who live fast as cops watch.
We’re dissidents who crimethink,
who skip class and hopscotch with an impetus 4 hi-jinks.
Bright screens r muggin our indolence and pipe dreams.
So we night thieves, but u fuckers will discipline our hype deeds
with patience and past times, cleaning beds,
spending digits on resting niches, waitin in flat lines,
breathing dead till u that disgraced u grab ya gauge
and blast ya brains steppin thru exit wound passage ways
2 enter tombs till death salutes the saddest face.
It’s a passive waste of livin, crazy hellions
bang our heads, 2 smash the face within this training helmet,
2 slay the dead, cant manage the brain damage of cold wasted tenants
in padded rooms with trash and brooms opaque and leaden.
So we roll blunts and smoke, puff, blow, faded reverence
till our minds blown 2 time zone stone(d) age in present, get it?
We still sigh alone and fraternize on myspace
cuz life at home is mind control by advertising psych waves–
sick and quite tame, grief, accented nicely,
grimace as splittin migraines leave fragmented psyches.
So we trespass the fences of fucking plain dead paths.
They call our head masks the blemish of ugly lame left fads.

NO! we lovely strange feverish rejects of the Babylon
with unrestrained eagerness repressed from ya shackles y’all.
Defects in our travels, infants pissed exodus, guns shooting,
the shitty guinea pig pessimists unmoving.

(Chorus)
GREAT BIG STREAMER SHAPED LIKE A CARP IN THE WIND
AIMLESS DREAMERS TASTIN THE HARDSHIPS AGAIN
FACELESS SCHEMERS VACANT AND HEARTLESS INTENT
SO WE’RE WILL OF THE WISPS AND OUR WANDERINGS NEVER END
Happy and free will of the wisps

(2nd verse)
They call me fuckin insensitive, try 2 give me enzymes with supplement estrogen,
when all I hear is dead silence hustling emptiness.
My Heads hot and grows, want me 2 b the next jock and swoll,
b rugged and breathe testosterone.
Im fashioned a genetic mishap
cuz im a rhyme geek who’d rather climb trees–
fuck ladders of acceptance, get that?
My colossal passions attemptin big tasks.
I’ll let them b old fossils in po’ brothels smacked with oppressions bitch slap!
Illest rhyming cage crasher,
armed with a sharp wit, wielded by a blade master
and im breathin with reason and passion
and laughin at the schemers as they bleed with their captains,
perplexed by their worth’s death, kneelin 2 senseless arrangements,
cuz I rubbed them the wrong way, feelin the tension abrasive.
Actually hearin me, my endeavor is 2 end
this ghastly tyranny. It’s my cleverest intent
but now the vultures try 2 chew and poke his eyes
cuz I destroy and pulverize till this stupid culture DIES!
Im just a passin traveler abnormal
who left his wack family’s tabernacle of class morals.
I was a pubescent youth stressing mentally and leavin futileness
cuz in this over-sane land, my penalty was being ludicrous.
I wanna change life, FUCK maps g!
I take flight,
the winds at my heels and my chucks have wings

(Chorus)



LOSERS’ UPRISING

(1st verse)
I feel like a wise guy in a Asimov murder scene–
ragin with quills, the matrix is real Babylon circuitry.
Feeds suitable cage we’re battered, bruised with sedatives,
try 2 give mutual aid but your attitude is negative.
U’d rather choose ya rhetoric of militiamen sloganeering.
We’re smashin through ya etiquette, we’re brigands and stoners cheery
where the luminous lanterns flash, the sewage and clamor clash.
Im an urban myth hermit kid panther cat fused with a bandersnatch
so a swarm of cops mark the reckless child,
his weapons—POW! on the former monarchs in the present now.
The future’s unwritten, a blank 2morrow’s the motto I say.
We walk on water, your saviors follow and r swallowed by waves.
We’re cults of freegan youngsters with bottles of flame.
We’re hulkin green and lovers of comics and strange anonymous names.
Robin Hood veins pumpin our crime ether
where the pigs corral the sheep, its mutton and swine fever.
Chains hold us, careless and schitzos gripped in plain old locked cells
cuz we’re derelict Cisco kids with fuego cocktails.
Mad and cocky jabberwockies—“My damn this fuckers crazy!”
Angry as hell so I rant like Buster Casey.
Stray youth hop a bus
in a gang with wrenches and Hayduke wanderlust.
The uprise aint over till the fat lady sings, so we cracked her bones,
slashed her throat, dragged her slow and packed her in a plaster mold.

(Chorus)
Fumble out of bed and I stumble cuz im restless.
Pour myself the wine of insurrection,
yawn and stretch, a loser with his eyes glared–
dreams and some weapons, the worlds worst nightmare.

Fumble out of bed and I stumble cuz im restless.
Pour myself the wine of insurrection,
yawn and stretch, a loser with his eyes glared–
dreams and some weapons, the worlds worst nightmare.

(2nd verse)
Crook nerd bookworm, skinny caterpillar,
a kiddy naggin wilburs with quick gavels, a city tracker killer.
Blood and ashes, fucken fascists pester—damn.
The next 2 stand with a numbin backend from a hundred lashes and reprimands.
Eyes bright and clear son, a mean looked Riddick.
Here comes the queen’s rook piglets. I speared one and screamed, “Good riddance!”
Block nether regions grow, Cerberus gets 2 eat guts.
The cops weapons breathin smoke; it’s a murderous nicotine buzz.
Heat comes, feet run, hidin each night,
fiery hype geek wants 2 seek slugs and finally fight the blindin street lights
and get free, but these helpless bystanders lead selfish lives,
scared of techniques from shells and 9’ campers.
Ugly, hasty, sick breath showin the vignettes on paper;
unsheathe safeties honin the intent 4 danger.
But im not a gangster, im an obnoxious prankster mad hatter
who dreams of stunts of duck hunts on cops with laser gat blasters.

(Chorus)

Burn the bridges 2 stack the sticks.
Smash down artifice with a sack of bricks.
Feed the fire and trigger the bombs.
It’s the losers’ uprising and the city is ours!!!
Burn the bridges 2 stack the sticks.
Smash down artifice with a sack of bricks.
Feed the fire and trigger the bombs.
It’s the losers’ uprising and the city is OURS!!!!!!


!J.I.G.G.S.A.W!, a trickster on a mission 2 disrupt everything BORING, playing his current incarnation as a young rapper named Forrest Wilson, the third born in Kansas City, Kansas, but raised in Los Angeles for 18 out of his 19 years of life. He has been performing and habitually blowing minds in poetry slams across the city with Mike the Poet, Busstop Prophet, RatPackSlim, Sarah Cruse and Black Spinach (just to name a few) for 4 years now. He’s also been bringing high octane energy to various school campuses, cafes, street corners (and in the middle of streets), open mics, music venues and youth community events for 5+ years. Currently a member of the ninja-pirate-guerrilla-poet-super anti hero crew known as Black Box Griots, and is soon 2 release his debut album, POSSESSED BY REBEL MISCHIEF, so expect the unexpected from this fiery troubadour…..

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