Skip to main content

Modern Poetry or Hip Hop is Better than the Da Vinci Code

People always tell me,

when I tell them that I like to write,

what I should be reading.

Let me explain something to you:

I will only read "modern" novels up until about 1980.

Perhaps some exceptions can be made but for the most part,

the rest of literature is just awful. Name me a book from the 21st century.

Oh the da vinci code? brilliant.

Right. But I can't get everything I need from dead men.

So I get my poetic inspiration from rap.

That's modern poetry. Hip Hop.

I listen to poems; i don't pretend to relate but I can't pretend I don't enjoy the sound.

Mind you, i don't claim that all hip hop and rap is worthwhile. It isn't. There's some really stupid people who spit.

Even still, the da vinci code? just because it's entertaining does NOT mean it's got merit. Watching two dogs fuck is entertaining but I doubt people would consider that a worthwhile activity.

So relatively intelligent hip-hop > the da vinci code.

Because you might as well throw me danielle steele and george pelacanos or HOWEVER you spell it. fuckin pulp trash.

Yeah you all don't even know you get this shit fo FREE.


Popular posts from this blog

I Can't Hear Your Little Red Rooster


I call this room Home.

He will not look at me

His eyes flicker with

a speck of violence.

my strained smile,

disgusted by

my pleading eyes.

my veins freeze

icy blood

tearing through coronaries

May Day

'Hope, you don't have to use it on your wedding night.'

She handed the pistol to Hope, right after the vows, right before the reception.

'I'm just kidding, darling. Don't worry. He's a good man. You did well sweetheart. He's a good man. You'll be fine.'

Hope's paper-thin smile tried to grow as she stared at her grandmother's reflection in the mirror. The mother-of-pearl grip sparkled in her grandmother's hand, bathed by the Chapel's cheap buzzing lights.

'There's a bullet for you, just in case.'

Hope had left the gun on the table.

A week earlier, drunk off self-pity, she had taken it out of its case and walked to the kitchen, where she stuck the barrel in her mouth and proceeded to take pictures of herself to send to Ray.

In a rare instance of good fortune, her phone ran out of battery before she could indulge her sense of pithy revenge. She woke up and pried open her tear-salted eyelashes then made sure to delete an…