Saturday the 14th

Ever'thing, Hop hip, New

Suffering succotash, I’m a cereal abuser.
I’m the ex-post-facto Grape Nuts user.
Found my soul in the depths of a cereal bowl,
Dissected a Cinnabon, found ten cinnamon rolls.

Tollhouse cookie and a wookie with head lice,
Got ten trolls in my posse, better think twice,
Or maybe even thrice, three times a lady,
Divided by nine, new math don’t faze me.

Lazy third eye and a lazy boy recliner
These rhymes don’t get much more sublimer
than this, Yes, sorry to say folks;
can’t make an omelette without cracking some yolks.

The more jokes I’m cracking, the less crack I’m getting,
Facing a sexual Armageddon.
Betting on donkeys to win the Derby
Don Quixote’s got nothing on me, absurdly

Wordy, I worship at the altar of letters.
So cast off your fetters, learn from your betters.
I’ll get you lettered like varsity freshmen
Teaching rap like ripping flesh, man.

But I’m not Freddy Krueger, I’m Freddy Flow,
It’s Saturday the 14th I’m fixin’ to mow
The lawn with scissors, I’m that precise.
I took the a-roni outta rice.

I come from the stratosphere, far from earth.
Best take a breath, turning blue like a smurf.

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H.R. called up H.R. PufnStuf

Ever'thing, Hop hip, New

Basket case, straight out of the casket,
Potato or song, don’t matter, I’ll mash it.
Fashion funk from a junk shop reject,
Sherlock Holmes could never detect
What I’m about to do, or whom.
Eligible ladies, y’all might feel a baby boom.

Super-sub-sonic, I’m the tonic for every ill,
No cane, no crutch, no meds, no pills.
Wilted lettuce, let us pray.
Praying mantis, show us the way.
The truth, the light, I bring back the dead.
Flowed some freddy upside of some blockheads.

Popped some blackheads with ESP
Mopped up some warzones with Martin Sheen.
Gone upriver, it’s a one-way trip.
Banana peel envy, give ‘em the slip.

Some got gypped and some got a freebie,
Instantaneous verbal delivery.
I’m Betamax in a 4-G world
Visualize world peace or peas getting whirled.

Hairs got curled, got em caught by the short hairs,
I been known to play possum with grizzly bears.
Took the stairs wearing elevator shoes,
Treadmill to nowhere, I sing the hamster blues.

Self-abuse, but I’m not addicted,
Something good up on me might get lick-ted.
“Take dictation” (that’s what she said),
I roll far over PG-13 heads.
Keep shit clean, I mean shoot, I mean stuff,
Put on a wetsuit when diving for muff.

H.R. called up H.R. PufnStuf,
Now our new CEO’s got a mouth that’s big enough.

Your Holy Crapness

Ever'thing, Hop hip, New

Glandular eruptions and a rope-a-dope stance,
I cooled down a whole lot of hot pants.
Hot pans and pots, better get you a trivet,
Trivial Pursuit, I’m hirsute, chicks dig it.

Got enough back hair to stuff a pillow,
But it’s soft like a Persian, I never rock Brillo.
Milo de Venus grew arms just to grab me.
Mona Lisa cried when she couldn’t have me.

Van Gogh cut his ear off just to get with some Freddy Flow,
Picasso was a colossal asshole but yo,
I know what it’s like to have a blue period
need a box of tampons, my sins are myriad.

Went on an Iliad with Homer Simpson,
The Sirens had donuts, I’m feeling weak son.
Lashed to the mast, we sailed home to Greece,
But it’s broke like the west side, ah honkey, please
Give it a rest, you’re chasing your tail,
these broken-ass rhymes are bound to fail.

“You’ve got mail!” You’re as backwards as AOL.
Your Lynrd got Skynrd, ooh ooh that smell.
Skunks got nothing on your pungent rhythm,
Every faux pas, you done did ‘em.
Kid ‘em if you can, but take this seriously,
You can’t fool me, no matter how deliriously
you throw words together, no method to your madness:

I hereby decree you “Your Holy Crapness.”

Deep like Dante

Ever'thing, Floetry, Hop hip, New

Girls are burning with optimism’s flame.
Gamed the system, Miss Pessimism’s got one claim to fame:
That she knew me back when.
Trees fall in the forest, I’m all about the zen.

Got a yen for y’all and a lust for life.
Took two in the morning, took a third for a wife.
Got a slow burn and a four-alarm fire.
Plead the fifth, get my drift, arouse ire.

Aspire to greater heights, where mighty mites tremble,
Can’t nip these ankles, I never dissemble.
That means “lie,” some-a y’all better look it up.
Tectonic plates about to subduct
got nothing on me, I’m deep like Dante.

Open more doors than Monty.

Getting bigger than Myrtle the Turtle, yo

Ever'thing, Hop hip

Blank pages fear me, I blow their doors off.
Heavy artillery I’m all Norman Schwarzkopf
with pencil stubs, ink pens, and crayons.
Voodoo zombie Ouija board séance,

Back from the swamp with an alligator typewriter,
Packs more wallop than Walter Cronkite or
any other newscaster or Cindy Plaster Caster.
Remastered 10-inch, shouldn’t have sassed her

Fast or slow, I’m a 45 on 33.
78 rpm on the Victrola, G.
Say you want a revolution, I spin it
Got my hip waders on, I’m all up in it.

Begin it or end it, either way works
Like Caribou coffee, I’m all about the perks.
Some get irked at this fredlicious flow,
But I’m getting bigger than Myrtle the Turtle, yo.

Stand on the backs of those come before me,
can’t really say that many adore me.
Yet little by little, the word’s getting out,
from a whisper to a scream, then a shout.

LFMBO: Laughing my freaking Bible off: “I’m Christian and I know it.”

Ever'thing, New, Randomocracy

One night only! Live at Dr. B’s Home for Wayward Boys! (and saving y’all a trip to church on Sunday morning). It’s the Very Reverend Freddy Flow with his rendition of “I’m Christian and I know it” (to the tune of “I’m Sexy and I know it” by LMFAO:

When I walk on by, priests by looking like, damn he fly.
I preach to the book
Fisher of men with a big-ass hook, yeah.
This is how I roll, Satan get behind me, I’m in control
I clean this bod with sanctified soap
And like John Paul I’m a smokin’ hot pope, yeah

(Ahhhhhh) Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
I preach out

(ahhhhh) Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
I preach out

When I walk in the church, this is what I see
Everybody starts to blessing on me.
I’ve got passion of the Christ, and I ain’t afraid to teach it (teach it, teach it).
I’m Christian and I preach it.

When I’m at the mall, I’m preaching the ladies like Jordan shoots ball.
When I’m at the beach, I walk on the water, I’m off the leash.
This is how I roll, come on nuns, girl it’s time to go.
We headed to the chapel, but don’t get nervous
white shoes, white hat, gon’ preach some service.

(Ahhhhhh) Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
I preach out

(ahhhhh) Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
I preach out

When I walk in the church, this is what I see
Everybody starts to blessing on me.
I’ve got passion of the Christ, and I ain’t afraid to teach it (teach it, teach it).
I’m Christian and I preach it.

Check it out, check it out.
Amen amen amen amen amen yeah
Amen amen amen amen amen yeah
Amen amen amen amen amen yeah
Amen amen amen amen amen yeah

Can I get an Amen y’all?
Can I get an Amen y’all?

I’m Christian and I preach it.

(ahhhhh) Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
I preach out

Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
I preach out

Speaking in tongues y’all!

I’m Christian and I preach it.

Pull the bandage off: A love song

Ever'thing, Floetry, New

Verse 1:

Doorbells jangle, Lovers tangle
So intense, but now all past tense
Bitter twist of fate,
Turned my trust to hate

Now you will know, what I knew
Now you’ll feel the Hell you put me through
Or maybe, you won’t care
Blank x-ray, nothing’s in there.

Absence at the heart of you,
Empty chest, I never knew
Signs were there, but I didn’t heed them
Tarot cards, I didn’t read them.

And let me be, the first to say it,
You don’t want to listen, but I’m not stayin’
Hear me out, gotta get this out of me
Closing time, don’t think to doubt me.

CHORUS:

Pull the bandage off, Rip out the stitches
Pull the bandage off, For poorer or richer
This stitch this time may save my life
May save my life,
Save my life

So pull the bandage off, Rip out the stitches
Pull the bandage off, For poorer or richer
Got to put our time behind me
I can see now, you don’t blind me.
Pull the bandage off,
Pull the bandage off.

Verse 2:

The trust I had in you was misplaced
The thrust of what you said was laced
With honey and strychnine, bitter taste
Honey and strychnine, what a waste.

Broken doorbell, door ajar
Ears burned at the noise from afar
With every thrust into her I heard it
The same sweet nonsense, something absurdist

Throes of passion, no one remembers
Let myself out, no one the wiser
Except maybe me, poked at the embers
Love in ashes, early December.

A day that will live in infamy
A day that my heart broke in half in me
Now the bandage is red and ready
To get ripped off my hands are steady, so

CHORUS:

Pull the bandage off, Rip out the stitches
Pull the bandage off, For poorer or richer
This stitch in time may save your life
May save your life,
Save your life

So pull the bandage off, Rip out the stitches
Pull the bandage off, For poorer or richer
Got to put your crime behind me
No one else, but me is all I need.
Pull the bandage off,
Pull the bandage off.

Verse 3:

Dead part of me, I’m half-hearted
Cold to the touch, see what you started
I mean, you ended
Now you see, what you’ve been to me?

But that’s passed, passion blasted
Save the hysterics, I’ve outlasted you
You’re just some disparate thing and
I’m not desperate, pawned the ring.

Then bought me something, Third and Vine,
Means to an end, yours and mine
Prove my mettle, drop forged steel,
Nothing to think, nothing to feel.

But a flicker in your eyes
Fainter now, yet I surmise
Some secret deeper, in the bone
Too late now, I’m coming home.

CHORUS:

Pull the bandage off, Rip out the stitches
Pull the bandage off, For poorer or richer
This stitch in time may save our lives
May save our lives,
Save our lives.

So pull the bandage off, Rip out the stitches
Pull the bandage off, For poorer or richer
Got to put this crime in front of me
Dark at dawn, but day is all I need.
Pull the bandage off,
Pull the bandage off.

(Spoken):

And I’ll put the bullet back in the barrel
And I’ll pull this knife out of us
And I’ll put the pills back in the bottle
And I’ll smooth the splash from the water
And I’ll soothe that gash in your chest
And I’ll hold you so close, so close

And I
will
always
love
you.

Me and Al Gore invented Internet porn

Ever'thing, Hop hip

Sight for sore eyes, optical illusion
Got four eyes but my third eye’s conclusion’s
definitive—I can see for miles and miles
Louder than a bomb but don’t check the dials.

Speakers to 11 but I go to infinity,
Spinal Tap guest star, Nigel was into me
till I stepped on Stonehenge, pissed the dwarf off,
they took back my cucumber, took my drawers off.

I was off-off Broadway so far I was on it,
Even monkeys with typewriters can write a sonnet.
Even a blind pig can find an acorn,
Me and Al Gore invented Internet porn.

Swore it off when my palms got hairy,
I was practically married to five-finger Mary.
Scary when I think of the youths I corrupted,
Al Gore’s got climate change, I’m coitus interrupted.

Ineluctable fate had dealt me a bum hand,
Made money on the backs of teenagers’ glands.
But the better angels of my conscience got to me,
flapped their wings and flew right through me.
Knew me better than I knew myself:
Now I’m pimping out ice cream to Keebler Elves.

Wealth of nations, I’m a national scandal.
Mowed the lawn in Speedo and sandals.
Can’t hold a candle to my wax or wick,
Wicked weed whacker, I got the biggest . . . crick

in my neck, can I get a massage here?
Or a bottle of codeine and a six pack of beer?
No pain, no gain, then I’m a millionaire,
Spayed 10 cats on a double dog dare
without anesthetic, got the scars to prove it.

Cat scratch fever, no balm can soothe it.
Ted Nugent’s agent wanted 10 percent,
I said Hell no, these rhymes are Heaven-sent.

Rather get bit by a fossilized trilobite

Ever'thing, Hop hip

Ferd or Fred, I’ll answer to both
but Derf don’t work, it feels like meat loaf
in my mouth, got cauliflower ear,
too much broccoli, not enough beer.

Made a career out of unclear references,
Bade farewell to verbal reticence.
Present tense passed by, I’m already future,
Invented new verbs to work your glutes, suit yourself,

If you’re not with this, sit down,
Finders keepers but I will never be found,
Losers weepers I’m a needle in a haystack,
heavy hitter like a fat man snack attack.

Whacked more weeds than Toro,
Cut more Zs than Zorro.
Tomorrow’s my yesterday, today is so last week,
Celebrate Chinese new year when Pekingese speak.

That’s my dogs, got a mob of chihuashuas,
Yo quiero Taco Bell, dog day mamas,
Got me a llama and 39 acres,
So much cookie I need a dozen bakers,

Maker’s Mark on the tip of my tongue,
The Gospel of Mark’s gonna get expunged.
Bungee jumped, screamed Oh my Lord!
Unfortunately, Mama had cut the cord.

Swim with swordfish, my rapier wit
acquitted me well till the great white shark bit.
Shit! Should’ve stayed in the shallows like Mama said,
Instead I was in deep, looking at being dead,

Right, said Fred, bled down to zero
(Brits say zed), my head was a hero sandwich
to a shark with an overbite,
Rather get bit by a fossilized trilobite.

The Sump Pump of Hop Hip

Ever'thing, Hop hip

Back to the flow, I’m never fronting,
Rock the mic like a sump pump, I’m really sumpthing.
Lumpenproletariat, go tell the bourgeoisie,
Even the one percent’s getting hip to me, G.

They’re skiing at Aspen on six inches of fresh coke
while I’m getting et by the skeeters in Okeefeenoke.
Ain’t no joke but they call me The Riddler,
I’m up on my lines like gay men on Bette Midler.

Fiddler on the make, got 4 on the floor,
Five-finger Mary, 6-6-6 on the door.
Whore of Babylon couldn’t get with this,
It’s a foregone conclusion, I babble on witless.

Sit less, stand more, I’m wired like a telco,
Strung out on Strunk and White, shave with Norelco.
“Omit needless words,” but I need ‘em all.
Prelapsarian even after the fall.

Y’all can’t google this quick as I bust it.
If I say “perspicacious” you’ll just have to trust it.
Rust belt-and-suspenders, I keep myself covered,
Sans-a-Belt leisure suit, I’m getting discovered.

I’m a terra nova and feeling del fuego,
Not Chevy No-va or sin los juevos.

Full can of Fix-a-Flat

Hop hip, New

I’m flat broke but I’m fixing to fix that,
Got me a monkey wrench and a full can of Fix-a-Flat.
Gonna do some damage, got a bad case of mange
I’m ready to share with y’all, feeling deranged.

Froth at the mouth but no frothy Santorum mix
Ix-nay butt play, squeal like a pig, bunch of hicks
tried to convince me the world is flat,
I said no, It’s a cube, dude, on the back of a giant rat.

I saw some sneaking through the alley with Sally,
Chicago mammals they big, I took me a tally.
Counted to 10 but could’ve been more,
Couldn’t get my socks off to count 10 more.

Sippy Cup Throwdown

Hop hip, New

Sippy cup throwdown, Baby MC temper tantrum
Cold lampin’ pampers, busted amps and ranted
Slanted East, slouching beast, Bethlehem P-A bound
Palm the rock like Dr. J, sound mound of rebound.

You can’t get around this rhyme or this reason
You must know that Freddy Flow’s always in season.
Teasin’ the Jheri curls of Michael Jackson wannabees
Easin’ like Sunday morning fornicating killer bees.

Hug it out, homies, manwich makes a meal
Open faced sammich and closed fist seals the deal
Keepin’ it real, got a new set of falsies
Added a Winona Ryder to all of my policies.

Free TSA colonoscopy!

Hop hip, New

SUVs like Panzers in the airport parking lot,
Left my rights in the pre-flight post-op.
Virtual colonoscopy from a TSA agent,
Scanned like a tin can, no getting impatient,
When you get picked by the man with the magic wand,
Kill the jokes, get your humorless game on.

Three different colors

Hop hip, New

Music

System of a down, yo I’m never a downer,
Spin dross into gold, I’m a smart dumbfounderer.
Don’t flounder for syllables, I flay and fillet
Make a surgical strike, write like Edna St Vincent Millay.

Baywatch guest star I did me a cameo,
Pamela Anderson looking good in some camo.
Me and Hasselhoff we sprechen sie Deutschen,
No more rolling in Corollas boy, now I’m Rolls Roycin’.

Boysenberry no longer, got my man sap flowin’,
Plant my seeds in rows but these weeds some need ho-in’.
Put your North Face on, I bring it like Peter North,
Bottle this pop, pink champagne’s getting’ uncorked.

Horked up a hairball the size of Secaucus, Peter
Tork took the fork in the road, it’s gettin’ raucous.
A mawkish interlude: don’t fear the reaper, but
Pretty soon dude we’re worm food all the Golden Gate leapers
will get eaten by sharks, I’m-a start getting snarky
With the next fool who calls me the next Marky Mark,
Me myself and I come in three different colors:
Red, gold, black and green.

Rhinestone jockstrap

Hop hip, New

Rhinestone jockstrap, shooting guard got lit up.
Necessary evil, boll weevil in a tin cup.
Got cottonmouth running too many wind sprints,
Known as Butterfingers for all of the dropped hints.

Junkyard dogs got bawled out, chickens choked,
Lambs to the slaughter, Alfred Alligator okeefeenoked.
Pig in a poke, hope is a thing with feathers,
Cow didn’t get the joke, now hanging on tethers.

Hell bent for pleather, whether you agree or not,
Weathervane stuck south, vanity calls the shots.
Potted meat your maker, Satanic liverwurst,
Salman Rushdie got bum-rushed at Bensonhurst.

Keepin’ it real, got a new set of falsies,
Added a Winona Ryder to all of my policies.

Bed Bath Beyond Belief

Hop hip, New

Live so serious, dead man frivolous.
Saw a gibbous moon and prayed to deliver us
From lunar lunacy and wolfman urges
Bridal shower blood bath binge and purges

Shoppers splurge, Bed bath beyond belief
Shark feeding frenzy, garbage on coral reefs,
Lots of F words and verbs get thrown about
Erogenous power surges blow your lights out

Dour schoolmarms ace take-home tests
Ace in the hole A-plus blessed
With hidden assets like Vlasic pickles
Crunchy and cold like a hot Don Rickles

Or Phyllis Diller’s sweet dill relish
It’s hot like that I never embellish
Stored in a medieval reliquary dish
To get a taste is my fondest wish.

Orthopedic Pterodactyl

Hop hip

Orthopedic pterodactyl, fractal fracture
Truth-impacted toof and a mouthful of lecture
Stay aloof from this conjecture, at your own risk
Stay alone at Red Roof Inn, cook your own Shish-

Ka-bob, Vlad the Impaler
This lyric hits you quicker to kill what ails you.
Wooden stake, silver bullet, words never fail me
This Freddy’s already dead, no grave can jail me.

Drano running through my veins, Rotor-Rooter colon
I super-fly metabolize even when bowlin’.
Pole-vaulting shorties like an Evil Knevil
Shredding cotton panties I’m a devil boll weevil. Feeble

Foes? Down they go—their foibles are legion.
My weeble it don’t wobble when inflicting a teaching.
I boldly go beyond where you started and stopped at.
Got my Klingon bling on, Captain Kirk is my dope cat.

Ain’t got no shame, I’m a white boy rappin
Spit off a hitlist like baby pablum
My witless science got diced and shredded,
Ate shredded wheat took a crap got breaded

Fish filet, lurking in Suburban hideouts
When I asked her before she said she was holding it out
Be all you can be, don’t let the bee sting you
Finger lickin stickin the big chicken bring you

Home—break a few eggs, make an omelette,
I’m letting you know Freddy Flow’s up on it.
Get your Word’sWorth at this Tintern Abbey
My lyrical foreplay makes girls get grabby

My flabby foes get flayed and played out,
Bring my thesaurus to every prize bout
This rhyme’s bout out of gas, but I’m just starting
Dumb and dumber dudes faces are smarting.

Rock the mic literary, allude to the dead dudes
My time in the library was with Kafka not quaaludes
I don’t spit science, I drool liberal arts
CP Snow he had it right Homes, the world’s in 2 parts

I give seminars, classes, even colloquia
History lessons and a sweet Freddy Flow to ya
Class dialectic, defenestration of Prague
95 theses, 4 score on a Lincoln log

Thomas of Occam helps me razor my reason
My raison d’etre is never appeasin’ the masses…
Nor the masters and mucky-mucks
We liberal artists graduate like a lucky duck

Take to the water, or we up and fly
Sound like a PSA, but it ain’t no lie
Gospel truth, can I get an amen?
Or an A-plus grade on this Grade-A spin?