worth.

where are all the worthy warrior poets?
the sophisticated elite,
the active particpants,
the conscious conscientious combatants,
the really real ninjas,
the eleventh level duders,
the folks who are worth a dang....
where are those mutha-'uckas hiding out?
just sayin', neighbors,
they sure aren't up here.
it's invite only, apparently,
for the documentarian cadre and it's cause,
up here in this woodsly goodness.
i mean it-
i'm on the ones,
and my few hand-picked homies
are also all on the level,
but otherwise?
oh, man.
it's a suckhole of sh!t-salad sandwiches,
and dreadfully dense domain for
weak-sauce waterbabies and their peers.
it's been on of those days, kids.
the ones where all the dopeness is turned down,
practically to the 'mute' level, even,
and the sauce is thinned out to a nearly flavorless amount.
dang, b!tches.
there's only hard frain fallin',
and hard styles reppin',
and hard, fresh, loudness seems a little left out.
fridays just aren't rockin' it, y'all.
what can we doo-doo to wipe away the doo-doo butter?
maybe some captain america for our faces?
i think so, yo.
because shields, and super-soldier serum,
and worlds at war are exactly what we need.
*
buttholes.
that's what i'm surrounded by.
everywhere.
normally, that's SO my jammie-jam,
but these buttholes?
so sh!tty.
it's hard to hold faith in the unfaithful,
and it's hard to believe in the unbelievable,
but most of all,
it's hard to rep a b!tchsap attitude,
when that next-level jauns is what we're all about.
ahhhh, well,
there's always tomorrow;
never quiet, never soft.....