fabulous roman candles

December 13, 2008  :: 0 comments

the ones for me have always been
the mad ones,
the manic ones,
the passionate ones.

the ones who can look at the crooked aged tree and see the beauty in its twisted limbs.

the ones whose eyes catch the horizon set fire in the dawn and their breath is stolen by the view.

the ones who devour a piece of prose and lick their lips, wanting more needing MORE!

the ones who hear music not with their ears but with their souls and even if their limbs lay limp their spirits are dancing with wild abandon

the ones who ride the wave of the moment, uninterested in what happened or what will happen, engrossed in the now and here.

the ones whose inner beat inflicts those around them, setting the tone, the rhytym, their momentum is contagious.

the ones whose eyes do not hide but show the true color of their souls. the ones who light fires in the minds of the frozen masses, bringing mad thoughts and swirling visions to a sad gray world.

these are the folks that are for me.
these are the folks that understand me.
these are the folks that are kindred souls, these are the mad ones that color my world.

these are the ones i have in mind when my fantasy turns to reality and i have my stage to speak with my tongue on fire from a spirit ablaze with life. cut from the same mad cloth in the same mad pattern, brought to this world with the same mad purpose…to bring the truth to the forefront and to knock down societies walls and to free the flow of divinity from the dam of mediocrity.

the ones for me are the mad ones,
always have been and always will be.

unintelligible

December 13, 2008  :: 0 comments

crazy talkin’
chicken walkin’
watching gawkers
watching me,
their sidewayed glances
dance with me
feeling finally
for once I’m free…
only they wish they can be.

Too bad I can’t just break my head
and feed the world with the fruit of my gourd.
Make their belly’s distend with the savorin’
of my flavorin’
that is boiling
in my blood
as I speak with this twisted tongue
that no one else seems to comprehend.

Just a crazy talkin’
chicken walkin’
dreamtime stalkin’
watchin’ dude,
sideway glance me
but don’t be rude
just leave me be
and see me free
just walk and talk
along with me.

reason and rhyme

December 13, 2008  :: 0 comments

now allow me to wax poetically sympathetically to the nationality of breeds out in this vicinity who take things so goddamn seriously and only see the reality they choose to be seeing and being who they were told to be being while us society deficiant vultures venture to the pharmacy physician to fill our scripts with around the corner hospitality to quiet our brain activity allowing me to flow free poetically and not giving sympathy to those fuckin folks who may not “understand” me. this me that I am being is the me I’m meant to be being and I’ll wax poetically if I choose to and I’ll wear my heart on a sleeve if I choose to and I’ll bite your hand if you get too close if I choose to but then again, maybe I won’t if I choose to. But that choice is mine and I guess that’s the reason and the rhyme for this ranting and raving I’ve been spraying all over this page while silently praying these words I say may never become a crime.

Beat Prayer

December 13, 2008  :: 0 comments

What’s going on in our world today?
War and hate
and is it too late
to save our skies?
Our fragile world quickly dies.
Hear the cries of the extinguishing creatures,
birth defect children with monstorous features?
We hate them
but create them
and then we ask why.
Isn’t it OK that they should not die?
What’s going on in this world tonight?
How can we turn it and make it alright?
Car bombs rocking the buildings to rubble,
terror in hearts, our souls are in trouble,
please hurry up God and make it a double.
The hatred is growing,
the red blood is flowing
and we don’t know if you’re coming or going.
What’s going on in the world this morning?
The rich keep riching and
the poor keep pooring
and the old man upstairs is taking a nap,
the thunder you hear is only his snoring.
Children get madder
and fatter
and splatter
their friends and teachers
in nonchalant matters.
The Mom and Pop stores have all gone away,
mommy and daddy smoke crack and decay.
Grandma and grandpa have nothing to say,
they’re grateful they’ve got one foot in the grave.
Who out there will try to help us?
Is there no oneout there to save us?
With everyone taking the love no one gave,
what’s going on in this world today?

Dreamchaser

December 13, 2008  :: 0 comments

I’m a seer
a doer
a midnight mover
a midnight walker
and a midnight talker.

Midnight’s got me tossing and turning
the things that I dream
have got my mind burning.
Gotta remember, gotta hang on
gotta make note, gotta belong
gotta do what I can
the message is clear
the meaning of life
sits so far yet too near.

I’m confused and I’m lost
I’m abused at a cost
I’m turned upside down
around and I’m tossed
as the hands keep a’moving
and the beat keeps a’streamin’
and there’s nothing I’m provin’
‘cos it’s nothing but dreamin’
and nothin’ is somethin’
‘cos it all has a meanin’
the midnight me sees
what the wakin’ me’s missin’
If I’d only shut up
if I only could listen
I might catch a glimpse
of what I’ve been missin’

but the alarm rings out
in the predawn of night
and my feet get a’movin’
while my mind holds on tight
I’m no longer a seer
I’m no longer a doer
I’m just grasping for straws
but it’s not a fair fight
as my dream starts to crawl
away from the light

lost and found

December 13, 2008  :: 0 comments

I’m trying hard to find myself. I looked high and low…in the dusty crawl spaces, under yesterday’s ragged boxes, at the stained bottom of my old coffee mug and even thru the cracks in the sidewalk. Who knows, maybe I’ll find myself somewhere between these letters and words and p.u,n?c!t;u:a(t)i”o’n-s…stranger things have happened, believe you me.

I could have sworn I saw myself on the shit-eating-grin of Mr. Moon man on my latest canvas. Smiling at nothing and everything at once, tinted in fiery reds and oranges and yellows in a swirling sea of blues and greens…
…but then again, maybe not.

I also think I caught wind of my trail somewheres around the Tropic’s, Val and I chasing down the night without a penny between us and loving – every – minute of it. He told me to just live…”joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely…” He told me so many things…screaming whispers of midnight exploits, crazy cunts he’d fucked in the hall, hearty meals on someone elses dime, days filled talking at the café, drinking bitter Absinthe and wrestling with our muses. He lives and I live with him, myself and Val painting the town any damn color we choose…

Perhaps I’ve been right here all along, stalking me in the shadows of the evening shades. Out of the corner of my eye I see me and when I turn to catch me I’m gone…poof…an elusive SOB I be. But either way I know we’ll meet someday when walking down the street and maybe we’ll mutter a quick how-ya-doin’ and maybe we’ll go catch a cup of joe and ponder the life at the bottom of our mugs. Who knows? Stranger things have happened,
believe you me.

Inheritance

featured in the poetry forum July 11, 2008  :: 0 comments

“The scientist has marched in and taken the place of the poet. But one day somebody will find the solution to the problems of the world and remember, it will be a poet, not a scientist.” Frank Lloyd Wright

the thumping heart beat

(th thump)

seems to get louder

(TH thump)

with each passing moment

(TH THUMP)

we bottle it up
pass it around

the momentum catches

the glorious wave of change
comes crashing down
and we are on the brink
of boiling over

spilling and filling
seeing and being
flowing and glowing

the fire is spreading
in this twirling world…now

our voices, our choices
bringing the forces of change…now

the whole mad swirl of
everything to come begins…now

we’re a part of this everything
setting yesterday on fire
and taking the reigns
of the moment

we watch it
we whirl and twirl it
in our collective creative hands

because

the poets shall inherit the Earth!

yes, it’s true.

the mad ones whose slacked jaws
hang loosely, words flowing easily
speaking raw truths

the poets who speak freely
of what hangs heavily
around their hearts

the poets shall expose the bankrupt world

the poets hide for no one
is afraid of no one
never owned by no one

the poets shall be the voice-box of truth!

no one knows
what will be exposed
from the blue-eyed soul of the poets

the poets shall not quiet down!

the sad and passionate ones
the dry and high ones
the mad and manic ones

the poets shall ride the tides!

it’s just a matter of time
when the reasoning in the rhyme
will rise to the forefront and finally

fin-al-ly

knock down societies fragile walls
and free the holy divinity
from the broken, old hands
of mediocrity

the poets shall inherit the Earth!

and the world will fare better for it.

I Am Doing What I Can

featured in the poetry forum July 11, 2008  :: 0 comments

I am doing what I can to be a real man.

a true man
a kind man
a feeling man
a dreaming man
a baring-of-my-soul man
a whole man
a rock & rolling man
a don’t-have-to-know-everything man
a questioning man
a seeking & finding man
a peeking-thru-my-fingers man
a speaking-thru-my-actions man
a walk-the-talk man
a strong-yet-bending man
a man-with-a-plan man
a go-with-the-flow man
a show & telling man
a shuffling after man
a leading man
a behind-the-scenes man
a humble man
a rough & tumble man
a man’s man
a good man
a great man
a best man
a mate man
a sensitive man
a dad-of-a-daughter man
a true blue-eyed soul man
a man-of-many-colors man
a diverse man
a poet & painter man
a Renaissance man
a speaking-from-the-heart man
a pre-dawn praying man
a meditating man
a tolerant man
a 9-to-5 man
a trusted & trusting man
a thankful & grateful man
a living-in-the-moment man
a man-of-many-multitudes man

I am doing what I can to be a real man.

Inheritance

featured in the poetry forum July 11, 2008  :: 0 comments

“The scientist has marched in and taken the place of the poet. But one day somebody will find the solution to the problems of the world and remember, it will be a poet, not a scientist.”
Frank Lloyd Wright

the thumping heart beat

(th thump)

seems to get louder

(TH thump)

with each passing moment

(TH THUMP)

we bottle it up
pass it around

the momentum catches

the glorious wave of change
comes crashing down
and we are on the brink
of boiling over

spilling and filling
seeing and being
flowing and glowing

the fire is spreading
in this twirling world…now

our voices, our choices
bringing the forces of change…now

the whole mad swirl of
everything to come begins…now

we’re a part of this everything
setting yesterday on fire
and taking the reigns
of the moment

we watch it
we whirl and twirl it
in our collective creative hands

because

the poets shall inherit the Earth!

yes, it’s true.

the mad ones whose slacked jaws
hang loosely, words flowing easily
speaking raw truths

the poets who speak freely
of what hangs heavily
around their hearts

the poets shall expose the bankrupt world

the poets hide for no one
is afraid of no one
never owned by no one

the poets shall be the voice-box of truth!

no one knows
what will be exposed
from the blue-eyed soul of the poets

the poets shall not quiet down!

the sad and passionate ones
the dry and high ones
the mad and manic ones

the poets shall ride the tides!

it’s just a matter of time
when the reasoning in the rhyme
will rise to the forefront and finally

fin-al-ly

knock down societies fragile walls
and free the holy divinity
from the broken, old hands
of mediocrity

the poets shall inherit the Earth!

and the world will fare better for it.

Ready or Not

July 10, 2008  :: 0 comments

Change is a’coming.

Sometimes she comes in
crushing white-capped tidal waves.
Or sometimes she comes on
a gentle ripple left
from a fallen autumn leaf.
But she’s always a’coming.

She’s a’coming right now
as I write these fragile words
on this forgotten paper
in this fading notebook
sitting in this shabby cubbyhole
in my modest lil’ home
of my charmed life.

Change is always
breathing
down
your
neck.

She can be a live wire, sometimes.
A lot to handle, sometimes.
By folks like us, sometimes.
But don’t let her fool you,
her sometimes sultry looks
and whispered promises
sometimes seem so promising.

Sometimes,
she’s much more
subtly disguised
as a street corner beggar
begging you for some change
and your eyes meet
and you see
her looking back at you
in the bloodshot eyes of this
vagabonded version of you.

Change is a’coming.

Change is ablaze in your brain
as you feel its flame spreading
across synopsizes bridges
on the brink of creations
wonder and amazement.

Change is a’coming.

In a book…in a song…in a stroke of a brush…in a set of rhyming and complimenting words…in a perfectly timed twitch of the index finger capturing the beauty of the moment…in a movement in the arch of a dancer’s back…in the final scene of a barely seen screen adaptation of the book written by the author you love as the song you crave plays with words in verses that you painted just the other day…

Change is a’coming.

In a gentle kiss that lands directly on your soul’s cheek…in a close-eyed embrace from your Daddy’s little girl…in a soul knowing look from your other half of the sky…in this moment right here writing about the moments that change rode in on with vivacious tenacity and took her some new, and much needed ground and momentum…

Change is a’coming.

Change can come
in drip-by-drop erosions,
in imperceptible ways
when seen from day-to-day
but slowly and surely
weaves its way
into your life
in a canyon of grand proportions.

Change can come
in a cold winter’s breath,
killing you with chills that fill
each hidden and unknown crevice
leaving you frozen, broken
and alone.

Change can come
on the bitter bee’s stinger,
quickly bringing pain and fear
and a held back tear
leaving you unclear
on what you’ve done to deserve this.

Change can come
on a butterfly’s wing,
when the rocks and the trees
begin to sing
and winter seeds planted deep
begin to creep out of their skin
and take root,
flowering and blooming in Spring.

Change is a’coming.

Ready or not.