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Jimmy and Chichi Choo (Sub-Dylan Bullshit Blues) (Free verse) by the codeine kid
Baby's in the kitchen bangin' pots n pans I'm sitting at the table drinking out of cans Baby she's not talking but she sure makes lots of noise and I guess she's trying to tell me that I'm just like all those other boys No drive and no ambition, playing video games in darkened rooms And melting little crystals with cheap lighters under spoons "It's like kissing God," I tell her but baby she don't care "Well kiss my ass," she spits "and tell god to comb his hair You know I got no time for losers and I got no time for junk" "Ah baby lighten up, get down, get loose and get some funk" "But you aint touched me for months"she cries "You couldn't raise it for a bet... ah fuck it what's the use I need another cigarette" "Hey babe can I bum one I'll pay you back in just a while" But baby she just screams so I just shrug and hold a smile Cos I know despite her anger that she really loves me true and I'm thinking about the time that Jimmy hooked me up with Chichi Choo You see, daddy's little rich girl she's got patches on her jeans and despite daddy's ambition it's with me she's always seen Now I ain't got no agenda, guess I'm too cool for that But if baby wants recognition then she'll be my pussy cat I can give her all the street cred that a rich girl ever needs But you can't buy brains in Camden from a market selling beads So daddy may not like me but baby needs me around and I don't really give a fuck as long as I can get around down town You see I need to get my sweet stuff... that's right I need to score and I suppose I need my baby but I need this shit far more And that's where my little rich girl comes in good and has her uses there's a lot of cash in that purse to pay for all those juices In return she gets a write up in all the daily papers By simply being with me she's with the movers and the shakers I may be from the streets but now I'm real hot property and all the music magazines want a piece of me (Ah shit it's not immoral, what can a poor boy do? My baby's got her front page and I got Chichi Choo) Now baby's on my arm again getting seen in all the right places And christ it's hard to put a name to all these different faces For a time I play the game and schmooze around with all these leeches Baby pouts and poses showing off her well bred features Cameras flash and light bulbs pop and baby's looking fine So while she's in the limelight I slip away and do a line I meet my old friend Jimmy, hey Jimmy's got some smack We cook up in a cubicle and fire that shit right back And that was how I met her, this chick named Chichi Choo A friend of Jimmy's "she's cool" he smiles and Chichi hits some too Now this kid Chichi, she's cute in a drugged and wasted way So I tell chichi I like her and she says "Well that's okay" I ask her for her number and she writes it on my hand "I've been into you a long time and I really like your band" "Well I'd love to stick around" I say "But there's something I must do... Gotta hang around with rich girls instead of Jimmy and Chichi Choo" "I'm kinda with this girl you see,this rich kid i got in tow and it's a real bad fucking downer but I guess I gotta go but Chichi baby it's okay, don't you fret too much I'll be around tomorrow and I promise I'll be in touch" So Chichi does the right thing and that honey disappears "Hey Jimmy I best be going I got this burning in my ears" Now I'm feeling kinda mellow which I guess is just as well Because baby's honking voice sometimes shreds my nerves to hell "Oh suger where you been?" she asks "It's okay babe I'm here I just met a friend i used to know and had myself a beer" "Well suger you'll never guess but I got news for you I'm going to be on the cover of next months issue of GQ" "Well baby that's real nice I always knew you'd get your way I'll even buy myself as copy that'll really make my day" And I'm thinking "well she's pretty and I'm sure she'll sell a few" And while she's on the shoot I'll hook up with Chichi Choo Well I called around to Chichi's and she said "this feels so right now come into the kitchen while I cook some China White" I told her baby's on a photo shoot but it's Chichi that I miss She said "Never nind your baby come and shoot some more of this" So now Chichi's in the kitchen banging pots n pans and I'm right in there with her avoidiing ceiling fans We got needles, we got razors, we got powders, we got pot We got all weekend together and we're going to do the lot We'll lie around and giggle and we'll stay all day in bed And I'll write those songs another time when there's less shit in my head I don't care about tomorrow or the the things that matter most I'll just spend my life with Chichi shooting smack and chewing toast I won't think about my baby returning from her photo shoot Because tonight i'm here with Chichi and she sure is looking cute I could be hanging around with rich girls but i'm here with Chichi Choo Maybe tomorrow we'll call on Jimmy and hey Jimmy vcan have some too Yeah I said I could bne hanging around with rich girls but I'm here with Chichi Choo for sure tomorrow we'll call on Jimmy just me and Chichi Choo Yeah that's me and Chichi Choo that's right honey Just me and Chichi Choo Well wouldn't you? Damn fucking right you would


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Arithmetic Mean: 6.6
Weighted score: 5.190725
Overall Rank: 4680
Posted: June 2, 2004 9:14 AM PDT; Last modified: June 2, 2004 9:14 AM PDT
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Comments:
[n/a] the codeine kid @ 217.159.74.253 | 2-Jun-04/9:17 AM | Reply
this is more a song than a poem...to be read aloud in the style of dylan's homesick blues...there's no big or clever words or word play but it kinda...SKANKS
[10] titan69 @ 62.31.23.28 | 2-Jun-04/12:26 PM | Reply
got to give you a 10 for this. Your stuf just gets better
[9] wilco @ 24.176.102.131 | 2-Jun-04/2:03 PM | Reply
It does sound kind of like some of Dylans writing...Somethings not quite right though...I'm not sure what it is...I'll have to think.
[7] zodiac @ 66.0.86.62 | 2-Jun-04/2:14 PM | Reply
You've sure captured Dylan's talent for easy rhymes and bullshit "metaphorical" nonsense.
[n/a] pain killer @ 217.159.74.253 > zodiac | 2-Jun-04/2:30 PM | Reply
ah zodiac,...i'm surprised you've managed to find the time to remove your tongue from horus8's hole to comment!
[n/a] pain killer @ 217.159.74.253 > pain killer | 2-Jun-04/2:35 PM | Reply
i think this is really good shit, but i see already that as a newcomer to this site that there are one or two characters who see it as their duty to run down anyone they see as a threat to their self elected status as kings of the poetry board with their negative put downs..namely horus8 and zodiac and their little crew wibble wibbble honk!!

anyway keep it up codeine...i've read through some of horus8's stuff and he'd give his right nut to write something like this..i haven't had the time or inclination to check out zodiac yet...but i think i'll knowe whati'll find wibble wibble honk honk





[7] zodiac @ 65.161.41.48 > pain killer | 2-Jun-04/4:00 PM | Reply
For one thing: Yes, I do spend a lot of my time on this site pointing out the massive failings in people's poems and/or personalities. If you'd actually read your (new! pocket-sized!) Official Poemranker Rulebook instead of merely drawing crayon mustaches on all the handy illustrations, you'd know that pointing out a poem's and/or user's failings is not only allowed on this site but encouraged. If certain of my comments are not exactly "on topic," well, I've read and voted honestly on close to three thousand poems on this site and am more than entitled to it. What've you got, honky?

For another thing: Kings are hardly ever elected, especially by "self." To name oneself king of something is not the same as electing oneself.

For yet another thing: If I were a king of the poetry board, I would likely not consider you much of a challenge. You've hardly even put anyone down. And we get a dozen of you in and out of here every week. You'll be gone by the weekend, while I've been a user for six months now. That's nearly seven months in poemranker years.

And one other thing: horus and I aren't a crew. In fact, if I ever see that crazy nigger on my turf I'll cap his ass.

I lied, here's another thing: You might be surprised to find that my poems are all sensitive ruminations on love and doubt, particularly this one:
http://www.poemranker.com/poem-details.jsp?id=94210
[n/a] pain killer @ 217.159.74.253 > zodiac | 7-Jun-04/11:35 AM | Reply
ah Jimmy zodiac wibble wibble honk honk...you've read and voted on "thousands" of poems and are actually proud of the fact....give that man a chocolate mouse...ohhh but i bet you can't wait to show off your poemranker "I've voted for over a thousand poems me!" badge at your annual unpublished writers meetings down the poemrankers arms (real ale only) Gone by the weekend...nah you don't get rid of me that easily although i admit i won't be spending quite as much time here as your good self...it's life Jim, but not as YOU know it wibble wibble honk! I've been a user for over six months now wibble wibble snork...oh shut up you sad sck of shite
[n/a] god'swife @ 4.232.108.209 > pain killer | 2-Jun-04/4:59 PM | Reply
Beautiful latina woman, middle-aged and sure of herself, walks up brick path of a modest home, steps up to front door, straightens her hair, smiles, and knocks.

Knock, Knock... you open the door.
Hi, saw the truck unloading your furniture and just wanted to say welcome to the dysfunction.

Just so you know, there are no Kings here, just lots of frustrated Genii, doing the old omnipotence cha-cha. Try to be objective.

Sometimes,(most times)the best of those who have been wished into this God-forsaken cornfield are the biggest fucking jerks. So it goes.

Be objective. This is not a cattle call for the Pulitzer. It’s mostly a neighborhood of the frustrated, looking for a better way of expressing the modern western pressures.

Yes , perhaps you are a threat. You’re young, smart, probably carry some fairly good DNA in those nuts of yours. So take it easy. Don’t make the Alphas gang up on you.

Or perhaps you’re all wrong , you don’t understand a thing, and just need to take the poems for their intrinsic worth.

Anyway, I brought you a casserole. Hope you like it. Just return the dish when you get a chance.

Oh, and by the way, this poem sucks.
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