CRM group huddle and a freestyle

Corinthians thought it would be 'nice' if we had a meeting of the Cross Referenced Modulates Literary Group, and seeing as I'm not going to them, they were kind enough to come to me this past weekend. It was actually very nice. Alfred is a very intense guy but committed, the BDA is an oddball, and corinthians is just the awesome little peach that she always is. Unfortunately, her husband Jhazz is all up in some non-fiction bookwriting right now, so he's not really much with the whole wasting time talking about literature just now. He's a fabulous character when he's around, but mostly he's superbusy.
We made do without him by smoking a lot of weed (actually that was just me), and talking bookshop. It is officially decide that we're starting our group reviews with Black Boy. I can't say that would've been my first choice, but who the hell ever asks me what I think anyway. I've never read the fucker, but it sounds much too heavy for my taste. We'll see how that goes.
Corinthians did this freestyle rhyming exercise after the group huddle that I thought I would include because it's soo froody.

The talk begins and sometimes ends
within the bounds, between good friends
of all good things, and all good means
but finally comes to what you bring.
Realistically,
so closely found
within the hints
of what resounds
as innocence
that still contends
with intransigent
roaming malcontents
terorized by thoughts
of transgendered men.
Yet intelligence
is on the hunt for indigent
lost diligence.
One wonders when the sun shines in,
and we begin to enter in
to firm commends
to shun our sins, or do we sense that then they win.
Perhaps we must
stay aware of what
has passed before or will pass since,
or we'll be stuck to pass through then
those times again.
It's the way it goes my friends.
so hold on tight, the ride begins.

A totally freestyle spoken word/rap thing that I've tried to recreate the feel of here. Luckily, I keep a tape recorder around to record my thoughts. that way I'm not talking to myself. I'm talking to eternity's immortal friends with my trusty tape recorder, right?
Hey, I'm no Rilke myself, but shit, if I had a band I would kick some crazy enough poetry to top Morrison's lameass self, given half a chance, and corinthians and I could do some kind of Floetry thing. Yeah, well, all dreams are real while your asleep.