I Think Not

December 13, 2008  :: 0 comments

Strangest thing happened today, I lost me. Not ‘lost’ in the sense of gone but I was a shell for a while today. I was with me for a few hours and decided it was time to fuck with my head, why not try some of that, with a touch of this, a piece of dat and bump bump bumping on along. Oh gosh, what’s a touch of this gonna do for me. Try it, might like it…might not. Well ‘not’ it was, and ‘not’ is me. Me stepped out for awhile, may be back later, may not. Roll the dice baby, come on 7! Luck is not going to find me. Post signs at the local store. Missing, me, call ‘I’ if found. But I sense that me is around, looking into my eyes…oh yes, here me is, no there I go. Quick glimpses like sitting at a light and watching cars turn in front. Quick connections, quick…disconnect. Me does that, me connects, ZAP, gone. Where? Behind this wall of fucked up shit I just put up to fuck with my head. Is it bad to be straight? I think not. Stop? I think not. Compromise? I think not.
I think not.

Porch People

December 13, 2008  :: 0 comments

I sit and look
and write this book
on my stoop.

My book of faces
of hearts and places
which memory traces
on my stoop.

Moving like breezes
they drift thru creases
on my stoop.

At once their mood eases
and their soul it pleases
to be on my stoop.

Nods of the head
soon lies ahead
with lazy days
and big fat j’s
all’s O.K.
on my stoop.

When I step inside
to move the tide
I see them slide
on my stoop.

This place changes,
its colors ranges
to all the different faces
on my stoop.

Some are new ones
others are old,
all the stories to be told
on my stoop.

Its seen them come
and seen them go
who comes next?
you’ll never know,
on my stoop.

The ups and downs,
grins and frowns,
a thorny crown up
on my stoop.

Time stands still,
Time gets killed,
Time gets filled
on my stoop.

Fade In…

December 13, 2008  :: 0 comments

…lines I know from days gone past.
The casts the same from days of last.
The stage is set, this scene is old.
I watch it as it all unfolds.
I know my cues, the lines I’ve read.
I know exactly what lies ahead.
This is the story of yesterday.
It’s played my mind both night and day.
The curtain’s up, the eyes they look
to see the pages of my book.
My stance is tense, my throat its dry.
One last look before I cry.
This performance upon the stage,
the last words written on this page.
Will end tonight to no applause.
No more will be be the curtain calls.
For time moves on and people too.
To stages with a different view.
This stage is one that’s up and far,
the role I’ll take is of the star.
So look to me on darkened nights
and know that all is well and right.
For here is where I choose to be
until the next role beckons me…
Fade Out

Button Pusher

December 13, 2008  :: 0 comments

As I walk down the street
my eyes sometimes meet
with those who try to look at me
and see inside my mind.
The squint is tight
and try with might to fight
the battle and try to rattle
the world of the other.
Lines are drawn, walls are built,
it won’t be long, I won’t be wronged.
For this is it, this shit
hits me hard, leaves me scarred,
makes me sick with hate,
no time to negotiate.
Went too far, pushed beyond,
my turn to respond.
Feel the chains a-moving,
my bloods a-boiling,
my fists a-clenching,
my eyes a-crying,
red tears a-flying.
Feel like dying?
Should have thought,
now you’re caught.
Call me out for this bout
and want to talk,
want to walk.
Talk is done,
time has come,
my heart is numb.
My rage is fast,
the pain won’t last.
Just close your eyes,
my demons fly
in forms of fists,
in snapping kicks
that hit like bricks.
Couldn’t see
when you looked at me,
the anger begging to be,
pleading to be, set free.
Wrong time, wrong place,
to bad so sad,
ya got me mad.

The 1:15 Blue Line

December 13, 2008  :: 0 comments

I found myself on the Blue Line today.
Sitting back, closed the eyes for the moment and I saw. Flashes on my mind, so much, I was following at a psyche-sprint for a time, tripping with its speed. So much before my arms. to grab, so much, so obvious, so open.
I saw myself on the Blue Line today. Sat back in the corner, looked up and there I was..6, chubby, happy, smiling, there I was..19, scared, confused, lost..25, a man in
transition..50, wise, bearded, evolved..75, back bent, eyes dim, soul tired..now, sitting, looking, seeing, understanding.
I killed myself on the Blue Line today. my Self, the Self of time, died. Had to disconnect connection. Said the rites, closed the lights, took to flight. It was hard and how I wept. The well that sat dry, parched, drought. Flood gates opened, flowing down my face as I said goodbye
to my Self.
the Line.


December 13, 2008  :: 0 comments

Staring blankly at the wall…it almost acts as an inner movie screen…I sit back and rewind time in my mind. So many flashes up there…days fly into weeks into years into memories that seem like a movie of someone else’s life. I casually nod off into my daydream while staring blankly at the wall. I follow the path I’ve made…the one that winds loosely through my history…feeling such an array of things in the span of a few seconds. How do I stop and ponder on one when one naturally leads into another one and then repeats the pattern over and over again. I feel my ass slipping off the pseudo-plush seat while at the same time I become consciously aware of my slouching posture and a few curious side-glances from the other poor slobs stuck here in waiting room limbo. (There’s nothing I hate more then waiting rooms. Set out some cots, let us recline…yeah, recline. Bring in some recliner’s, let us snooze while we wait…maybe pump in some music, personal stereos mounted on the wall next to the recliner’s with some kick ass headphones. They can call you over an intercom that pipes in over the headphones. Yeah. But I seem to have slipped off the subject) Why is it these journey’s into yesterday don’t come when I am sitting under a tree on a fine spring morn? Why can’t my life be that picture perfect one that was promised to me so long ago in some childhood poem? Where’s the White Rabbit to show me the way. I’ve poked so many holes trying to catch the dream but it always alludes me, confuses me then loses me when I need it the most.

features of creatures

December 13, 2008  :: 0 comments

streams of dreams
came to me…
last night

scattered off
flew away…
at day’s
first light

i know it’s there
locked up in me…
oh so

dying streams of
remnant dreams…
from late
last night

subconscious me
had the key
has the eye
that always sees
bits and pieces
it sets free
waves of dreams
wash over me

i’m tossing
my mind is burning
midsummer night
has got me
rising moon
the tide starts
midnight’s yearning
has got me

echoes bouncing off the walls
screaming dreams
and childhood songs
i know the tune
and hum along
forgot the words
of yesterday’s song

sunrise comes
and blinds my eyes
grasping fingers
grab and find
the features
of creatures
in my mind.
to always search
but never find.
scattered off
at day’s
first light
the streams of dreams
from late…
last night

…i cannot

December 13, 2008  :: 0 comments

i wish i can speak to you true & clear, loud enough so you can hear but…i cannot.

i wish i could paint the perfect picture, strokes so fine and colors so bright, make your eyes see the light but…i cannot.

i wish i could sing all the ranges of the scales where my voice doesn’t fail & fall apart but…i cannot.

i wish i could dance like a ballerina’s prance & walk on clouds, the beat my feet would pound but…i cannot.

i wish i could rhyme & keep time in your mind with these words of mine but…i cannot.

i wish i could snap pictures, a camera in my brain that would try to explain these things that i see but…i cannot.

i wish i could open my soul to the world, a hole that would spread all these things i just said but…i cannot.

all i can do is give my point of view & reach out to you & you & you over there & you in the air & you & you & you.

i got a few gifts but my wrapping’s not perfect, the bow may be frazzled & the paper is torn & my technique is worn out but it’s all i gotß & i hope it’s enough to say what i feel when my soul starts to reel off rapid heart thoughts & i hope that my ink will sink into paper & you’ll drown in the ocean of pages.

i hope that my strokes…although not the truest & the colors not the bluest…may paint on the canvas my soul’s wishes.

i hope that you’ll see me dancing along to my cracked voice’s song & that you’ll dance along like no one but god is watching.

i hope that you’ll see this, i wish i could make you but i’m not the creator, just the curator & i wish that you’ll feel this love in your heart from sunrise start ’til the sky turns to dark but as i said…i cannot.

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.


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.