Archive for the ‘sex’ Category

Crazy Sexy Unsexy

Posted: April 13, 2016 in rap lyrics, romance, sex

I need to keep my fingers out of my own ears, doctors orders-
I need to stop drinking drops of my tears, that’s not important-
Enough to be crying openly on the MRT, during the day-
Trying to pry hope from misery in such a hopeless way-
Way off the edge of sticking to the middle path-
Lost instead in a sick riddle on a little raft-
Navigating the rivers of hell and old bad habits-
swelled up into an armor plating built around a sad rabbit-
lonely, but this androgynous girl on the train keeps staring-
if only we weren’t drifting the same deep uncaring-
attitude held together with contempt for random strangers-
with an aptitude to descend into the dispassion of cold players-
cause I’m old and grey or at least solid salt and pepper-
told I sound okay but could probably dress a bit better-
like I’m allergic to style and react to technology-
as if a person filing a tool shack from a fallen tree-

Maybe I’m unlikable, maybe all my past lovers were flukes-
Maybe I’ll only strike you as cool in a black hat or toque-
Maybe it’s not worth it, maybe stay good and free instead-
Maybe this shirt doesn’t work with this grey hoodie vest-
Maybe I’m just not sexy, boring like sugarless lemonades-
Maybe you wish I never wore spectacles but only shades-
Maybe I’m over-exaggerating, down with a fear in my head-
Maybe I just need to get my eyebrow pierced again-
Maybe I need more tattoos, or better stories for the ones I have-
Maybe it’s a sad truth that the only sweater I own is from grad-
Maybe I’ll never be a player, maybe never hit a home run-
Maybe I’ll never upload tinder cause I’m just too phone dumb-
Maybe I’ll go a whole year with no sex, like a monk-
Maybe I just haven’t met a girl or boy with enough spunk-
Maybe I don’t care, but than maybe I do-
Maybe it will drive me crazy like it’s supposed to-

Sex just seems like so much work I don’t get why we propagate-
All these dreams of love’s absurd set and designs to populate-
White father with an Asian mother pushing the baby stroller-
With a toddler making faces to juggle the way they hold her-
Like it all fell out of a diamonds are forever commercial-
Climbing the mall like a mine that will make you a better person-
Worth more on the scale of what we want on our shoulders-
First score in the detail of the desire gods and shareholders-
Of cool incorporated and the confidence clubhouse-
But the poor fools left jaded on the fence of the hub browse-
And try to look like they can afford to buy a membership-
With lies and crooked comforts they cry into no significant other’s pits-
Just a white glowing laptop screen and a youtube playlist-
And fight a growing sad sob story dream of loose patience-
Waiting for the faintest hint from the other human beings-
That one day one of them will relate as a lover who can complete-

Maybe I’m not the one, maybe there is no single individual-
Maybe we’ve got it wrong, maybe we make our answers too simple-
Maybe we need companions, or maybe it’s just a mirror-
Maybe I feel a substantial need to fill my bed out of fear-
Maybe I’d be good for you, maybe we’d make our lives hell-
Maybe you’d liberate me or maybe you’d harden my shell-
Maybe I’d be your savior, maybe you don’t need any saving-
Maybe all this behavior is a greedy instinct based on a craving-
Maybe it’s fantasy, maybe it’s a game we cleverly crafted-
Maybe all this dancing really is romance ever lasting-
Maybe true love exists, maybe I already ruined it-
Maybe a new trust can live in the heads that I’ve screwed with-
Maybe I do this on purpose, maybe I like dramatics-
Maybe despite all these words I’m still a sucker and romantic-
Maybe I don’t believe in love, but than maybe I do-
Maybe it will drive me crazy like it’s supposed to-

 

Its the New Age, Baby

Posted: May 6, 2014 in sex, spiritual

Get with the program
card reading slow jam
Girl talk no ma’am
I hold the cold hand

cool hand luke
bucket of alien puke
zombie world nuke
C. T. Hulhu toque

and everybody keeps trippin
CDs keep skippin
drugged boys be lippin
laughing on the kitten

sex on my birthday
drunk in the first place
stuck in the worst way
cards are a sure play

and we say sniff
smell it and equip
looking for the ship
never leaving tips

been writing since I learned how
Elmo doll burned down
raver joker turned clown
mushroom tea churned down

chug it like you love it
under-cover muppet
such a muffin hugger
that you blown the budget

my cracker’s on overload
been talking on coast to coast
jam and butter on the toast
ruining my angel ghost

screw sanity I’m crazy
respond to me being lazy
don’t give me no maybes
it’s the new age baby

[you’ve got your science blind
[I’ve got my tarot cards
[you’ve gone to skeptic minds
[I’ve torn the laws apart
[cause I’m a super-hero
[messiah complex online
[I’ve been eating zeroes
[brain damage all the time…

hardcore on the low-tech
arm stretch grow mech
I ching flow head
crucifix goes dead

suicide world order
you decide no shorter
deicide importer
flee or hide recorder

hackers the extreme
jacking off the cream
macking off my memes
fight club dreams

might dub the grunge nineties
if I’m bugged find me
hide my drugs fine me
everything is fine see

it’s not for consumption
you break my numb lip
I’ll fake the dumb kid
scrawling since the malls been open

hauling since pope doping
calling my notes broken
falling into Hobokin
screw the prince I am bumking

stirring up something
blurry and crumbly
hurry up and flunk me
while I rewrote junkie

no reason no soul
so out of control
this kids off parole
thirty-one in the hole

Winnipeg revolution
so corrupt the solution
end all of pollution
I’m coming with the new shit

[you’ve got your atheism
[I’ve got my chaos magic
[you’ve run your mechanism
[I’ve run my toaist habits
[cause I’m a revolution
[it’s a low-tech hustle
[you bleed the insttution
[spinal modem my  muscles
[stimhack is my only card left
[it drives me crazy
[you think I won’t do it
[but it’s the new age baby

 

All Love For the Motherland

Posted: January 20, 2014 in politics, romance, sex
Tags: ,

I woke up this morning feeling political-
A little window to the world intra-mystical-
Sometimes you buy something just to throw it out-
Sometimes you find something or you just grow it out-
On it’s own, or it wasn’t meant to be owned-
What are you a pharaoh?-
You expect the moon to be showered clean in a Camaro?-
And she’ll let you finger her at the red lights?-
I know you’ve seen some sights-
But your not the only prince in the tuxedo-
There are others that remind her of Jared Leto-
And she reminds you of your mother when she was younger-
Still you tongue her-
Tell her friends to go away-
Listen to pop music get drunk all day-
Just like last weekend-
Did we even pass a new year? No meaning-
They don’t even got a name for our decades no more-
It’s a shame we’re headed for-
A yacht with a sarlacc pit for a floor-
I really wish Jesus would come back-
Then Putin would not have done that-
Things being done to sex in a new age of repression-
Aren’t we intellectuals-
Have full agendas I guess-
It’s high time I digress-
Russia and the PR battle-
Saddle up gay cowboys worldwide-
We need some terms divide-
Hide the Turpentine-
Hide the hair products-
Where’s Waldo in all this logic?-
Of rainbow suspenders and news anchors censors-
Have to use Youtube to tell the truth-
Everything I see is juice-
RT you can’t hardly hide behind been seen as smart-
As if CNN isn’t just as bad a part-
Of this whole world news sex gloss over-
Talking sharp with padded shoulders-
Teleprompter like a mother whispering lullabies-
Why is the world full of these sellers of lies-
As if truth was a boat full of Jews we got no more room for-
Or a floor pounding boots Nazis shining shoes to the score-
They like their symphony music-
That’s good public sympathy let’s use it-
TONIGHT…
WE RAISE OUR DRINKS TO THE GAY MOTHERS OF RUSSIA!
HOPEFULLY THE THINK TANKS OF THE OLYMPIC
PROPAGANDIST HAVE LOVE-
FOR THE MULTI-COLORED FLAG
OR THE EQUAL SYMBOL-
I’M GOING TO RAISE MY VODKA GLASS UP
IT’S THAT SIMPLE!
Love for the gay brothers that have to hide it in the streets-
Bring it out in the twenty teens-
I wanna see people kiss who ever they wish-
I don’t want people scared of being on a list-
People should not fear to exist-
All our lips should be open-
Here’s hoping we can-
Spread love for the motherland!

Most Bananas Wins!

Posted: January 16, 2014 in drugs, madness, sex
Tags: ,

Madness don’t come in so many flavours
you could open up an ice-cream stand.
NO.
The employees don’t show up
just to have the zookeeper run around
in hyena skin mask screaming.
NO.
Oh, no…
Last ditch effort to make it with cute girl
with the arm brace in the Burger King
stock room.
(Her boyfriend is Filipino,
his name is Kyle,
her name is Ashley)
You go in for the kiss.
She lets you kiss her, but when you
touch her breast she says:
“No.”
“What the hell? No.”
All-nighter hallucinations
at the corner of your periphereal
vision.
You keep seeing baby ducks.
You keep hearing ghost jazz horns
and think up half a boner.
You need a shower.
But not alone.
A cold shower.
Outside in the sun.
You need another summer like the one
where you had sex with four different
women and it all worked out peaches.
You need another romantic walk
in light snowfall.
Take her home to a smoothie
and Nickalodeon cartoon shows.
YEAH.
Cause as the madness sets in
you start talking to yourself
and pretending your room
is an A.I. program.
“Welcome home,
Captain Ray Gun Pajama Pants.”
Your bed kept warm by a female
lizard girl.
By a lizard boy.
By a rockstar.
By an oil tycoon’s daughter.
Virgin till twenty-one.
Still shaves her legs and armpits
and likes to wear fruit shampoo.
Bike trips to Naked Hideout Mountain.
She
found
the
little
man
in
the
canoe.
You can’t get away from madness
like TV cops.
NO.
You can’t outrun crazy or live
on taboo snake cheese.
NO.
You can’t have two girls at once
no more.
NO.
You can’t shower with the soccer players.
NO.
You can’t help out at the cheerleader picnic
and make-out with the only male ballet star
behind the curtains.
NO.
Sound-check for your deaf cactus
named Jake.
Mother never gave you the right
science-fiction DVD for Christmas.
Hell never looked so much
like an eighties teen coming of age.
Stains on both sides of the couch cushion.
And her parents know what you two do
when you’re late to diner.
They all know, but nobody says they do.
NO.
(Her mom once walked into you two
doing a sixty-nine and you saw her
specifically glance at your penis
half in her daughters mouth)
So what?
Sex on Crazy Mountain.
Sex on Madness Hill.
Sex in the asylum.
Play checkers with a man who claims
he invented the futon.
Charles.
Never too young for a late night acid
flashback eating chocolate covered
ants.
Charles.
Cocaine dealer floral button-up top.
Hotel hallway floor and
you realize your wetting yourself.
Charles.
Walking in the rain.
Sandy.
Listening to a band named after
a president.
Sandy.
Random madness re-combinations.
Sandy.
NO.
Using a poem to snort
designer drugs.
Oh. Yeah.
Bone white china dress hugs her
curves.
Oh, yeah.
Sandy.
Sandy with the small red car,
there’s no room for a blowjob
in there.
Sandy.
She’s so good.
But she can be prudish once a month.
NO.
One last flavour of cherry nipple sundae
ice-cream.
Yeah.
Lick it up
and suck it down.