Looking for your MP3 downloads?

They’re over at Komplicated … remember? That website I wrote a poem about? Yeah, it’s up and running.

I plan to finish my commitment to National Poetry Writing Month and do the last, very late poems. I also plan to drop the also very late commentary track for last week’s reviews. I hope that stuff hits by Wednesday.

Before I forget, on Sunday at noon you can catch me, my brilliant wife and Jabir Faqir discussing the Top Ten Greatest Songs in Hip Hop History LIVE at Geekweek on their broadcast platform. Hoo hah!

I’m tired. Bed now.

Playing (Music): “Words I Never Said” by Lupe Fiasco

I think Thursday poems might suck a little. They have to happen after or during my weekly comic book reviews for CBR, which is a beezy in terms of sucking down my mental energies and what not. Still, you know, poems gotta get done. So here we go …

Batman is my dad.
Did you get that? I’ll repeat.
Batman. Is. My. Dad.
Imagine what I can do.
Think of how much you’ll suffer …

“Tanka: Damian Wayne Doesn’t Freaking Negotiate”
By Hannibal Tabu

I love the new Robin (here’s some of why), a self-confident jerk with the skills of a CIA assassin and the interpersonal skills of a chainsaw. I should spend more time with him, but I didn’t have time, of course. Maybe I’ll return to him.

Anyhoo, I have comics reviews to write.

Playing (Music): “Poor You” by Aviatic

Sorry this is a lot later than anticipated. Best laid plans and all that. Right. This one was very hard to get done, and I’m less than happy with the quality, but it can always be workshopped and improved. Here goes …

All day I dream about sequencers.

Common knowledge is
that your boy’s got too much ego.
Windy City wild man,
showin’ his ass on tv, momma.
I’ma put isht down, though
because every second I didn’t
was like a death sentence.

Locked myself in a room
making one beat a day
every day
every summer for three months
three years in a row
teaches a lot about dedication.
Built myself out of
pawn shop sound gear
hand me down soul songs
hare-brained daddy example

A day job was never an option.

Unheard of to unprecedented,
garbage tracks for Grav
stone stepped me to the Roc.
Long road from intro for JD
Foxy tracks in Queens
But I stayed on grind
like Peet’s with these beats
until big brother took a chance.

Now?
I’m headline punchline
car crash catapult to
catwalks and cassettes.
Tasteless tantrums and award show bans.
Non-stop porn on screen
while hosting rap camp
for Pusha T and Elton John.
Keep Legends in common,
open up doors like doors opened for me
every second of sleep
got me wanting to file police reports.

Got too close to dying
to miss living it up.

Models lay down like tracks
from lyrical subpoenas.
Give ‘em all up to hear mama’s voice
one more time, for real.
Did my fast life kill her?
Did Italian imports
repossess Alexis?
Takin’ Rosewood turns
to stay chosen in white man’ world,
My creativity isn’t a dream,
It’s desperation.

Did I make it out of the car?
Is this weed or brimstone?

Shades shield vexed vision
tinted tough.
Clicking through folders,
think I cleared out dreams for Shawn,
keep sounds set for Ne-Yo soul …
try not to linger over folder marked “MJ.”
Now I never open it.

One more epic show,
another ground breaking video,
keep steppin’ up the game.
Presidential put down to
Internet memes can’t stop me.

Even this hell
beats sleepwalking to Cicero walk up
no callers and no phone
dead every minute wasn’t living this life.

“Kanye”
By Hannibal Tabu

I came up with some of it in the shower, and I think I remembered the big key elements — being haunted by ambition, the unresolved dreams, the loneliness and kind of tragedy. We’ll see how it holds up.

Playing (Music): “Street Lights” by Kanye West