Everybody get excited...

...about a non-Frequency posting!

Maureen and I just wrote this poem:

Honey I Crunk The Kids

This soundmixer is just heavy enough to
Make a wall of rhyme around the Dirty South,
To crowd the hallways and the roads
With staccato sentences about love and prison.

Handclaps ringing the analog beat
For the children inventing new steps
Along the sidewalks. Let them take it
Logically into sexy sunny puberty

Where words rearrange their meaning
Meaning words are both strong and skinny
Like the children, like their riddims
Like the clicking of trees in the verdant South.