Hillbilly Hip Hop 9-11 Rap

In 2002 I was invited along with 9 other Tucson poets & one lone but lovely singer / songwriter to “caravan” on up to Prescott, AZ & perform at the now-defunct “Mad Linguist” poetry cafe. This was about a month after the first anniversary of 9/11 and my poem was a hillbilly hip hop doggerel rant about that event. This is a video of that performance. Not claiming it’s Shakespeare, or even Rod McKuen, but it was & still is pretty much is how I honestly feel about those who crossed the waters that dark day. And we who yet remain. Caveat: There is a cuss word or three in the poetry.


Here is another performance of it from 2004:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUkfvya_Hq4   (Part1)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=syeU1GWH8_4 (Part2)

The text of the poem is below:

5-5-5-5 8-0-8-7 20001 15560 neinOneWon

(About the title:

5-5-5-5 8-0-8-7:


20001 is the Zip Code for DOD, Pentagon

15560 is the Zip Code for  Shanksville, PA)

Years from now
Our Children
Our Children’s Children

What’s gonna be their 411 on 911?

No one won?

See ‘nein’ in German  is ‘no’
So  911 means No One Won

Tiddly Boom

I know it’s a dumbass pun
But check it out

Lotta people think I’m some kinda Orange Sunshine
Purple Haze Electric Kool-Aid flashback fucked up
Moonbeam spaced out peace n free love
Long haired hippy dippy trippy nappy tie dyed in the wool
Stoned stuck in the 60s deadhead acid head
Flower power Fab Furry Freaaaak-

And part a me is


I’m also a shit kickin ass kickin
Trailer trash white trash white litenin
Swamp rat redneck rockabilly hillbilly
Hardheaded hotheaded copperheaded hellrasin troublemakin
Rebel Son-

Like once upon a time
I was  hangin with my pards
A walkin with Johnny and talkin with his buddy Weiser
Blowin buddha in the bong
And snortin junk
They was getting lively and loud

But me
I was getting Mean n Evil Drunk

There was this Scooby Doo see
I didn’t like him and he didn’t like me

Maybe cuz he was slow n ugly
And I’m fast and pretty

Maybe cuz he was fat n dumb n sloppy n mean
And I’m cunning keen, lean n clean
And just like Shaft a Sex Machine
(Can u dig it?)

Mebbe cuz we wuz two javelinas a flexin at the same trough
Who knows?
There’s just sump’n about you that pisses me off!
(That’s what God told Job when he asked why)
Regardless I decided right that night that motherfucker would die

I played that bama so slick so sly
First off I made sure he snorted, smoked and swallowed three to my one
Then I did some passive-aggressive gaming on his ass
Now that’s always fun

Like he’d brag about how fine she was
That squeeze o’ his
And I’d say
“Yeah, the whole hood knows how fine she is!”

Like a cook not supposed to be a watching the pot
I could see him simmer, then boil, then burn
And I just sat there gloating
Awaitin my turn

Then he jumped up
Called me a name crass n fescennine
Said sump’n about my Mama – downright obscene!
Then he threw his square, a chair, and his ashtray my way
That’s when I knew I had ‘im by his middle leg
So I lit the match to the powder keg –

I smiled at him

This here smug n snide sissified smartass circle jerk smirk
That drives ‘em all berserk

Friends n enemies – and women!
Teachers n principals n cheerleaders
And first sergeants n second lieutenants – and women !
And bosses and exes and po-licemen n –
Did I say women?

Like a  puppet on a string
I had him played
He pulls out this knife
With a seven, eight, nine inch serrated blade

Floppin around like a fish outta wata’
A tryin’ to do the wild thang
A wavin’ it around like it was his wang
Or the flag
Or the ol’ lady’s finger

That there’s when I reached on down and whipped it on out
My own little hummer dinger

My teeny tiny two inch

Ladies it’s little
But it’s got a bodacious zinger of a stinger
And it’s chrome plated!

Right about then
Like some a’ y’all
That Charley McCarthy began to see the light
You don’t bring a knife to a gun fight

Cuz the kinda poker that wuz bein’ played
Where the stakes done been raised to shade, then fade
A barrel trumps a blade
So I had it made
In the shade
A sippin lemonade
No – Kool-Aid – Electric Kool-Aid!

That big ol’ bad boy froze like a popsicle
Once he wuz lookin in on the tips a’ my nickel
His jaw dropped like a prisoner on the gallows
Set to swing on a string
The color left his face
Like dirty water down the drain
In the spring

His eyes went wide as they looked into mine
As I eased that hammer back
Savorin’ them seconds like sips a’ moonshine

I’d gamed that mark so smooth so fine
Gotten him to insult me
Insult my momma!
Assault me
And now he’d pulled a weepon on me
(“Why that there’s Deadly Force Your Honor!”)

And here I’d been sooo nice all evenin’ long
I had not even raised my voice to him!

And I gotta tell ya’
To do something PURE evil
With absolute moral, legal, and social justification
Why that there jubilatin’, exultating sense of exaltation
That’s a more seductive temptation
Than the gyratin’ n oscilatin’
Osculation fornicatin excitation of a stripper
In a push-up lacy bra n a g-string
When your jock’s packing a rocket
And the rent money’s in your back pocket!

And then –

The bulls busted in yellin “Fa-Reeze!”
Well we all of us ended up taking a little vacation in the CC Hotel
(That there’s the Cook County Jail)
And though that’s not the main gist of my drift
That there too’s a little lesson to be learned
From this tale that I’ve spun regarding that pun

See, things turned out different from both his and my plan
Someone dropped a dime to 911
And no one won!

But time out
Fa-reeze frame!

You don’t get to pick who you love
Who or what breaks your heart
N’ brings on the blues and the sad

And in the same way
You don’t get to pick what makes you feel
Guilty or bad

I knew in my head all along that pullin’ that piece
Was not all that right – or bright!
But in my heart
This is what keeps me from sleepin’ at night

Maybe cuz  I’m a shit kickin ass kickin
Trailer trash white trash white litenin
Swamp rat redneck rockabilly hillbilly
Hardheaded hotheaded copperheaded hellrasin troublemakin
Rebel Son-of-a-Bitch

Or maybe cuz I’m a hippy dippy trippy furry Freaaaak-O-vitch

I ain’t really sure which

Everybody in my life
Ev- ery- bod -y
Even my own little daughter
My nappy haired  baby girl
I’d let down n’ hurt
Or they had me
Mostly both
Ceptin’ mah Grammy Pearl

She looked the Gramm-eye too
China blue sky eyes
Snow angel white hair
The biggest, billowiest pillowiest’ Pillsbury doughiest bosom n’ thighs
Sittin in her rockin chair
Me n Baby Sis’d climb up on her lap
For a story just afore nap
Time hour
Grammy smellin’ a’ lilac n lavender
Bakin powder n’ flour

And o my! Grammy’s Jammy Tarts
Each of ‘em baked with a piece of Grammy’s heart
In shapes of shamrocks n’ stars n’ whatnot
Y’all may go for that there Cubism
But them tarts – That’s what I call art!

She’d put em out on the back porch to cool
And me n’  Baby Sis – we’d steal a couple each
(And a’ course one more for me)
Then grammy’d go “You chillun’ know who done stole summa’ my Jammy Tarts?”

I’d poke Baby Sis in the ribs n’ lie, just like Bart, “Noooo!”
Shakin my head
Like one a ‘them bouncy doggies or hula dancers  in a back car window

And Grammy
Well she was way too much of a lady and full of the social graces
To ever comment upon or let on that she had noticed
Those tell-tale traces of jammy all over our faces

They love everyone, yo, doncha’ know
Even a no good low down jammy tart bandito

Now’ y’all be a coat on a hook n’ hang on
I really am goin’ somewhere
And we’re almost there

See, I had promised my ol’ lady for like the thousandth time
That I’d stop my drinkin’ carousin’ n runnin’ around
Done real good too! Gone almost six whole days
When that telephone rang with an ominous sound

Seems some crack head junkie tried to take my Grammy’s purse
N she bein’ old was a little slow n he wuz jones’n what wuz worse
He had a knife
He took her life

It’s the only time I’ll admit to having cried
When they tol’ me my Grammy Pearl’d died
But even as the tears began to flow
I thought like a little bitch punk
“Now I gots an excuse to go get drunk”
Mean n Evil Drunk

That’s right.
In the end I betrayed even my Grammy Pearl
By acting the thug, the chump and the churl
By using her death as a pretext to go a’ wildin’
I denied what her loss signified
Just like Peter did thrice before the cock’s crow
You reap what you sow
America – we will reap what we sow

I coulda, shoulda, wish I woulda tried that night
To be just a little bit like Grammy Pearl and treat folks right
Instead I went out and instigated that fight
Tried to to make that peckerwood deadwood
He was innocent, though he was a peckerhead hood
It was all just for spite

Since that night my soul ain’t had no rest
Grammy Pearl, she wuz the part a’ me
That wuz the best

And them folks that died
September 11, two double aught one
Each of them wuz  someone’s grandmother or grandfather
Or granddaughter or grandson

So it kinda’ seems to me
That them folks that died
Up there in NYC
In the air & down in DC
That they are like unto us as a nation
What my Grammy Pearl wuz to me

I ain’t tellin’ nobody what to do
There’s a hunnert men and well over ten thousand wimmen
Tell ya’ you’d be a northbound horse’s southern end to do what I say anyway

But I pray maybe we may
By our words and our actions
Testify and signify
Their immolation dignify
Let us not use their deaths –
Let us not continue to use their deaths –
As a pretext to go a wildin’
For acts ignoble and mean to justify

Let us rather Moses go down instead
Into & unto that sacred heart chakra
That in us all resides
There where reside in spirit those that that dark day died
They have made it twin spired sanctified
There too should we reside
Abide there awhile
Until we can decide
The Tao true to do
Then purified
Purpose, vision clarified
Clear eyed
Gird and go forth anew

Lest years from now
Our children
Our children’s children
They look up at us with accusing eyes
As they turn from the rubble & the holes in the lines of the cities skies
Where once spanned the Golden Gate out there in Cali State
Where once stood the Sears Tower, the London Tower, the Eiffel Tower
Come some unfathomable future hour
Gone the way of One & Two Tower
Saint Peter’s Dome & the Dome of the Rock
The Sepulchre, the Ka’bah, the Taj Mahal
In the desert out here, the dove fair San Xavier
Where all of ’em stood the sorrow of the empty air
As las miha, los miho
They cry and cry out to us
How dare
On the brink of not just a new
But a new millennium, leave us this legacy
And all we can do is rattle and stammer and stutter and shrug
Ahhh-ah I’m sorry
I’m sorry my daughter my son
My granddaughter my grandson
But it was 911 and no one won