I started something new...a venture of sorts—an experiment.
Hopefully you'll find it interesting, at least. Perhaps, you'll like it even more than you liked this.
This is maxcommajake signing off one last time from SPO.
Want to see what I'm working on next?
Happy National Margarita Day!
Monday, February 22, 2016
On to the next thing
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Not Safe For Work
Another guest entry, this time from Dylan O'Brien:
While working at pwc, I read that student parking only would have its last post.
I'm sorry pwc, but my work has to stop as we must raise our glasses for a toast.
Student parking only isn't good nor bad,
It's a chance for the boys to sit around and laugh cause it's all too sad.
I've only been a follower for a year or so,
But a year without spo, is a year full of woe.
I respect all the blogs and poetry
that came from jake max.
But I should really get back to work,
Cause some accountant has to count these stacks.
I bid a farewell to my favorite blog,
And pay my respects to jake max,
kids a homie, and a dawg.
One More, From Mom
In the middle of the night
I woke in despair
To read the post I’ve long
awaited
On the site where you’ve
laid your soul bare
I have to admit
Your latest posts have
left me questioning
Is my kid ok, or are his
wounds really festering?
Your writing is bold and
witty and funny
Sometimes it’s angry and
pithy and punny
As your mom I understand
that words are your outlet
Who knew how far you’d
take this blog from the outset?
It’s the end of an era
One that had its highs and
lows
The drama played out
online
And at times you came to
blows
But you put yourself out
there
And for that you should be
proud
You always stand by your
convictions
Never aim to please the
crowd
The people who know you
Understand who you are
We all love you for your
passion
Your loyalty and your eagerness to spar
I know you’re wondering
where the road will lead next
Sometimes that’s scary and
leaves you perplexed
No matter where life takes
you
I know you’ll be fine
In the meantime we’re all
grateful
It’s the end of the Jake
Max whine
The Final Lesson: An Ode To Jake Max
A final guest post by: Alexi Msays
I’m writing this for all those who never grasped,
what this blog really meant to the kid named Jake Max .
It wasn’t a hobby, it was a way of life,
he spoke his mind, not always polite.
He said some things that others wouldn’t have dared,
He even picked up poetry so he could add to it some flare.
I remember back when he wrote “for the boys”,
Damn, I never thought a blog post could make so much noise.
So I asked Jake why would he put himself through that?
Did he not see that people were talking smack?
He looked me in the eyes and said “Of course I know that,
But what you do not understand, is where my mind’s at."
So I asked him where it was, and what were its desires,
He told me with a big grin "to set the internet on fire".
He told me I would never understand him, that none really could.
But I think people should try to understand, they really should.
Life’s about being you, and nobody else.
And for better or for worse, that’s what the kid felt.
He never took on a persona that was not strictly him,
He placed less focus on the losses, but more focus on the wins.
He would do anything for anyone, no matter the personal burdens they brought,
Because Jake Max is that kind of guy, like him or not.
And while this blog was his vent, he did it for others,
Even when he raps on the track thinking he’s a brother.
So I’ll be damned if this blog doesn’t hit one hundred thousand views,
Because if anyone deserves it bro,
It’s you.
A tribute
One final guest post by: Michael Ginsburg
Years we’ve
waited
For this day-
But now its come
And gone away.
Great stories
turned to poems,
Our lives have
changed
But isn’t it
strange-
That we still
feel the same?
Can’t be beat is
still the motto
It’s here to
stay-
But I’ll be the
first to admit,
I’ll miss this
blog each day.
Writing is an
outlet,
You can’t deny-
How could you
throw shade,
To such a nice
guy?
See his
intentions are always good-
I’ll stand
behind that,
Whether you like
it or not,
It’s what I’m
trying to get at.
Where we come
from,
Was just the
start-
Always remember
that,
We grew up eight
houses apart.
Mistakes are
normal,
That’s a given,
Forgiveness is
for those-
Who are truly
livin’.
I’ve got your
back
Through thick
and thin,
Even when-
The layups don’t
go in.
Swing the bat,
Play the game,
Real life is
callin’-
I must proclaim.
If you’re
reading this now,
It’s never too
late-
To start
something new,
And make
something great.
You’ve done all
you can,
I think it’s a
good time,
To end this
blog-
And start the
climb.
I don’t write
poetry,
This is just one
time,
A tribute to:
The oldest
friend of mine.
The End
Simply,
don't
understand.
No, they...
don't think
I have plan?
Yes, they treat
me...
like a child.
So, I'm spicy—
they're all
mild.
What, a blog?
To them...
that's wild.
Poems...fill
their mouths...
with bile.
Poison posts?
No, they're
just rivals.
Not to me...
no,
to survival.
Tryna push
back...
my arrival.
I've arrived—
there's no
denial.
When every
post...
becomes a
trial.
When no one
answers...
On speed dial.
96k hits?
Astounding.
Never
dreamed...
I'd do a damned
thing.
Now, I'm so
close.
I've stopped
counting.
Stop the
Facebook spam—
I'm ranting...
They don't get
me—
they don't try
to.
Just another
strange, opaque...
Jew.
Doesn't matter—
Soon, we'll
leave school.
It won't
matter—
If I look cool.
See,
There's more to
life than looks.
Just ask
Zoolander—
Read books.
Read books
good,
Bad...
Ugly, too.
To learn...
A thing,
Or perhaps two.
To see...
A different
point—
Of view.
Step into...
Someone else—
Their shoes.
Sometimes, they
win.
Sometimes, I
lose.
This time—
This, it comes
as news.
Few months,
now,
I've just hit
snooze.
Actions—
I’ve still
got to choose.
Circumstance—
A path, a
move.
Usually it
heals—
A bruise.
This one’s
festering—
A wound.
The end is
nigh—
The winter’s
come.
Jon Snow’s
not here—
Manning the
wall.
I love to
talk—
it’s my
downfall.
But, writing—
That’s my
song…my call.
To SPO,
I owe it
all.
To Marky
Mark,
I owe the
blog.
To Mike,
My thanks,
for those guest posts.
By the end,
all mine stunk—
Burnt
toast.
Alexi,
Thanks for
being real.
For being
roommates,
That’s the
deal.
Last of
all,
I owe a
thanks.
A thanks
that they think has no place.
Thank you…yes, you—
Yes, you again.
The one…I
published—
No consent.
That act
alone,
I must
relent,
was grounds
to…
never speak
again?
That’s what
they’d say.
But you’re different—
Yes, you’re
okay.
Not scared
to speak up,
You
won’t shy away.
You
know you have feelings.
You
know what they say.
Do your
best to listen—
they won’t
go away.
Now,
At last,
comes a
moment.
One we’ve
all been awaiting.
One whose
imminent nature…
Is hardly
worth debating.
SPO
was made for students,
And
soon I’ll be one no more.
So,
it’s time for one last swing.
Throw
a left hook—rock their core.
I’ve
said my piece—settled the score.
The
consensus has spoken.
They
don’t want anymore.
Now,
I retire—
Retire
from this.
Move
on to do better—
Write
poems.
Find
bliss.
But,
don’t think for a second, that you all won’t be missed.
I
owe everything to you.
My
outlet—
Your
gift.
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