(Photo taken in my studio)

March 24, 2019

#AMWriting back to my sax, read the pudding it’s in my facts. The untouchable negro you regret to ask.

Writing the music to later produce with my sax.

They must’ve got it wrong bout’ TKane bruh….

He wasn’t writing this crap. But like the W2 you signed, this is my modern day slavery trap.

No jewelry from this land on this man.

Only the countries of oath.

I love you all though.

And I come with an addiction. Words and verbs prediction.

If you see me write a toast!

A poet’s W2. A personal tax.

Book one so far gave me a panic attack.

Imagine what’s next with my fuckin’ sax.

Through sound we can soon tell the energy’s motion. So, let me know.

From the time I was broke, to when I can pull up in my Mfoe.

Running with trouble left and right, be still fucka’s I run to write. 

You’re reading a free man, a loved man. 

A BMW driving black Man.

A Black Man Winning in Life, damn.

A Black Man Writing his future, watch my glam.

Eye struck, I know when you’re star struck.

A Black Man Who’s wage’s close to Scrooge McDuck.

I’m not a rapper people, but an imposter writing wordplay and poetry deeper.

I’m on the run. Writing to funds. 

Driving to runs; at Tom McCall Waterfront to sing to the people on my tired stretch of the run.

Tilikum running along the max and killin’ em’…

Here’s my watcher’s oath.

First beacon under the equator.

Sweating to Rigil, body of lies now braver.

Better to please her. Writing back to your Pink Panther.

Red Rocket where the scary man was.

Watchers know well. Selling out only to protect and dwell. 

Driving to dreams.

I’m writing back to Brooklyn.

First class to show up with my Book One.

Just watch. Like my saxophone soon.

I’ll play to the Bourgeoisie tunes. 

Last, let me tell you about Las Vegas.

It’s a player’s playground. I’ve been there and then some.

GoDucks baby; yeah this negro been around the real fun.

No drinking out the bottles. They just wanna sit with you.

For the gram and stunt.

Bitches. Tip Her, then fuck the best of her.

I know a pimper’s play.

If you don’t know me by now. Let me entertain you. I’m a magician. Was that Budd they was talmbout driven?

Star risen. Inspired much before Dekum’s Blue.

Here I am to read you.


Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes to encourage readers to explore the depths of their inner ocean, an unexplored self, because it's fun once you get through the emotional part... “The world around us is our vehicle, what you'll read is how I digest it.” -Budd

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