Skateboard culture
To grow up surrounded by it
living it in scabby knees and blown out shoes
sweaty , dehydrated
Adrenaline addled and longing for the next fix
Gravity failing
tempted into coalescing
brilliant redundancy of failure
the rush of success
landing
rolling away
the spine rattled
the courage
the grit
to get up and do it again
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 6:16 PM UTC
No one wants to hear about the fist fight I had with Jesus.
So much violence, the only honest reflection on our human condition .
The miracle.
I’m not saying I’m blameless, but one or more of us may have been a ***** fighter.
In all fairness he pulled MY hair first.
With all that pressure to perform and sexual repression ,
no wonder he had so much
pent up rage
and frustration.
No one
father, son, father as son
holy ghost, pope Saint ..
No one should spend that much time on a donkey in the 114 degree desert.
I thought he knew John “ the Baptist “ was a ***
Always rode behind so he could watch the donkey’s ***** swaying back and forth the whole trip.
I mean anyone that spends that much time and effort
to go hang out with dirty old lonely hermits that live in caves ?
He didn’t like the fact he made himself
to end up
as a zombie jew,
Forcing himself through delivery to know himself dying ugly .
The elegance of divinity.
but he didn’t have to kick me in the nuts.
Especially more than once.
“You ‘re the first of many” he spat
through ****** teeth and crocodile tears.
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 1:05 AM UTC
There isn’t a way I haven’t died already.
What I want never has or will matter.
So this unending suffering must be hell.
Another cold, slaving automaton, tells me I’m apparently
“ still breathing”.
So they refuse to bury me…
yet.
I pin an old folded unpaid bill to my chest
it reads
“ not, that anyone cares but,
I WOULD PREFER TO BE CREMATED !”
I don’t eat or drink
and when the thick pudding blood sprays out of my parched throat
as I try to protest…
I don’t want these I. V. in me
I can’t pay for it and I don’t want it”
It’s nearly so inaudible .
again
No one cares or listens...
What I want or need never has
or will...
Apr 24
Apr 24, 2026 at 8:41 PM UTC
A basic idea.
You have the right to wave your arms as much as you would like until
your arms interfere with me.
Until you strike me or you're causing a disturbance in my space. Which
exceeds your right to waive your arms.
Simple principle, or so it sounds.
This whole idea in modern times, how we look at individual rights.
(We've tried to reduce everything into group thinking, into group projects and team effort, and erase the individual as much as possible. )
I believe that a person has the right to do what they would like with their body, but I also believe that that right stops when you start Infringing on the rights of others.
( No one wants to talk about Thomas Hobbes and his contributions to the theory of individual rights. )
A basic idea
More specifically is this whole thing about motorcycles..
“Shared public roads where ordinary people are just trying to get around safely are different from voluntary extreme sports or contained risk environments that 2 wheeled vehicle swere developed for and should be restricted to.”
We outlawed 3 wheelers for a reason but we won’t do anything about a vehicle with even less wheels … ?
Now if you want to smoke, that's one thing. If you want to get a tattoo, that's one thing. If you want to live a wildlife and put all kinds of chemicals in your body, as long as you're not going out putting other people in danger. OK, I'm all for it
Be as free as you want.
Be as punk rock as you want. Be as rebellious as you want.
Whatever label you choose to associate with, I'm OK with all that, and I'll defend you.
I stood up to take a bullet for the countries that gave the world these .
Sign the papers, volunteered for the service because I believe in these ideas.
Motorcycles though.
That's a whole nother story.
You don't have the right to just weave in and out of traffic, regardless of what the traffic laws say. In England, it may be legal here in the United States,
I see you doing that, I'm gonna open my door, smack you, knock you down.
I don't care what the damage is.
I don't care. I'll run you over with my SUV / I'll slam on my brakes and let your rear end me. I don't care.
Now, this comes from a person who my own family members. In particular, many whom I love died on a motorcycle. Now does that make me more bitter? It's beside the point, it really is.
But yes, I also take it personally.
A person is 38%. More likely to die on a stupid motorcylce .
They cause more traffic accidents and are the reason more people go to the hospital for Vehicle related incidents, than all the others put together.
If you're on one and you think that makes you cool, you're automatically, in my book, an idiot.
Automatically owning a toy or a machine and thinking that it does something for your status because of the number of wheels that it has ?? , it's completely ridiculous
and equating it with freedom or some personal right ?
You have additional rights now ? - that you have to put yourself and other people in danger.
You put other people in danger because WHEN you go down, ys when , not if. ... everybody around you slams on their brakes and we're all weaving and swerving and trying not to run over you.
And you got nowhere else to go except for the ground.
And I don't care how bad you are, you hit the ground at 50-60 miles an hour. You're going to destroy your internal organs.
You're going to die.
That helmet isn't going to do a thing to save you
And do you deserve to die? Yeah, more than likely.
Because
1; you were stupid enough to buy the thing.
2 ;you were stupid enough to think that somehow it makes you cool.
3; you were stupid enough to think that somehow it equates to personal freedom.
And 4; you're out there breaking all kinds of laws and ******* your fellow motorists off
and not doing a responsible job sharing the road.
Just because your vehicle can do things that other vehicles can't does not give you the right to do them.
People want predictability out of the other driver.
They want to understand clearly what it is that you are doing.
That way they can go from point A to point B safely, which should be the goal of everyone.
The motorcycle is not a safe vehicle.
It never has been and it never will be.
There's no way to clear your body from the thing at velocity in a safe manner.
It is a death trap.
If you ride , you will eventually be either critically injured or killed. Your bones will be severely broken. If not, you will die. And I'm telling you that I'm a member of a club with millions of members that are not looking out for you. We're doing quite the Opposite
We are wishing you harm.
We're tired of wanting you to park the stupid thing.
Stop buying the thing and denounce those who sell the stupid thing.
Not only that, but if you want to ride it,
go get a motocross bike and jump it on a closed circuit with other idiots that you can run into all you want
because there's no cars on the track.
If you want to use it in that capacity, go ahead, but you shouldn't be allowed to drive it anywhere else. You shouldn't be allowed to drive it down a sidewalk for sure. It's not a bicycle. You shouldn't be allowed special privileges for parking anywhere. Just because you're a ****** bag.
The message of the motorcycle is as bad as marketing and advertising can possibly get. If you watch movies like Top Gun or any of these other stupid shows that glamorize the ownership or the use of such a vehicle, and you believe that that's somehow going to affect you. And your private or personal life?
OK, it's a miserable experience. You get on the thing. Your knees are cold, your thighs are cold, your face is getting hit by bugs. You got to wear the stupid helmet. Then your hair's all ******* up. You're all sweaty. You got to put on the same sweaty, ***** gross helmet over and over again. Fingers are chapped. Your knuckles are chapped. Your back is screaming. Your lower back is hurt. You're in a cramped, weird, stupid, awkward position. ... it's a horrible experience . Anyone around your cheap toy plastic death trap can’t hear most of the time. And you burn yourself by touching any of the sides of it.
and it can fall over on you or a child
and you can't really put it in reverse or manipulate it at way too many angles
and on way too many type s of incline or surfaces it falls over.
And you're expecting all the rest of the world to capitulate to you and your desires and wait as you struggle with it. .
And then you're trying to convince a chick that it's cool for her to get on the back of it
so that you can not only put your life in danger,
other driver's life's in danger
but her life in danger too.
The safety of motorcycles compared to other forms of transportation is nowhere near equitable. The amount of people that die on motorcycles every single day and do not survive any type of collision or crash compared to the amount of survivor car crashes.
To deny that argument would be like saying that it's OK to walk around with lions on leashes, or for every idiot to just have a loaded firearm in public.
The road is a shared public space. When something that causes that amount of harm on a daily and continual basis. . It's not just the harm, it's the cost. Not just the emotional cost, but the cost for everyone else's insurance. And the cost of health care.
I mean, we're talking about a day and age that we live in where people have said we're not going to do Plastic bags anymore. We're not going to allow people to be around smokers anymore.
We can and do have a responsibility to protect our shared public spaces and to make them safe for everyone.
Saying that a person rides a motorcycle and “ oh , he hasn't died yet is idiotic. It's only a matter of time.”
And yes, I'm going beyond that and saying, oh, you think it's so safe and you use it all the time with no problems ..? Well Wait till I come up beside you and give you a little nudge. Then we'll see how safe you think it is and how “ cool “ you are.
Apr 12
Apr 12, 2026 at 12:32 AM UTC
Yes. No one controls anything.
Why would they?
" Move at the speed the system demands . "
Work sheets, home work , dead lines.
Manufactured scarcity from desk to cubicle.
Manufacturing fear. “ School spirit” + Nationalism = War.
Manufactured urgency. Now, now now.
Go, Dog Go !
Another news cycle you’ll never be a part of
unless you break in a way they don't allow .
Sunday Schools most important lesson , sit down.
Shut up. Do as you’re told .
Nobody cares about your f---- ing opinion.
Get back in line.
‘Bringing in the sheep’,
indeed .
You ever see how they pack them, the little baby chicks?
That’s the whole plan right there , plain as day.
No space. No air. Just bodies pressed in until ‘survival “
can only become friction. Chicken friction = slaves in white collars.
No one teaches standards or dignity. ( not for free )
Stack them , Fred Trump higher.
Call it pre- sorted corporate efficiency.
Synchronicity. Ask anybody who's ever had a fast food job
where they couldn't keep up.
Can’t obey? Try to make it on the street with no EBT.
To noisy ? Won’t “ calm down, sir !”
Oh, You’re gonna love the stripes in the next place...
Concrete. Steel cages. ‘ Moves’ smaller than the meal trays.
Another unwanted pregnancy crammed into your cell every other day. Eugenics plan B.
And you think THAT’S the bottom?
Not even close. Get back in line before they strap you down.
Electro shock and needle showers till you... still .
More forced injections. The vaccine label slips off the BIG OIL mercury
as they Pump you full of whatever keeps you quiet. Gives you autism, Cancer. " it's genetic " = your fault...
In the Loony bin there’s little , movement.
No sky. No choice. the more clearly realized baby chicken tray.
Not even allowed to check out early.
A fate worse than hell, with no death just existing.
On their terms.
At the speed the system demands.
And still somewhere up above it all,
another Fred Trump hands it off to another little baby Donny,
born outside the chickadee packed trays.
Now it's HIS job to tell you what freedom looks like.
Tells you 2 % spending on welfare is the problem.
" Hate the brown skins." " very fine people on both sides."
Tells you less will somehow become more as you wait for it to
" Trickle down". Let your ' Pep Rally' daughters twerk as they lust
for them... anything to try and escape the tray
Smile and vote red , As they cut , Meals on Wheels.
Grade school Breakfast AND lunch programs,
music, art, GONE never to return,
not just starving your children physically,
But creatively and emotionally.
The GOP way .
Hiding behind the " star of David " and Supreme Court bribes.
you say you don't need me or to be told
Old oil Money = power,
then why is it still making choices for you,?
not some random unknowable ghost in the machine.
Policies don’t just appear handcuffed to a briefcase full of
bearer bonds
out of thin air.
Cuts don’t just “ happen “ by Sheeny magic alone.
Somebody’s processed boyscout - suit, signs them.
Somebody ‘s PTA Oprah ****** -slob benefits.
Now HE uses the Marines not just the local cops and the
National Guard to keep the fear
and the jails “ cranked beyond capacity” .
“ why , can’t MY generals be more like Hitlers.” ? ? ?
... born outside the trays… never once cooked never shopped for groceries .. calls THAT freedom.
Tariffs no one wants or deserves as punishment .
For no reason but himself.
Ego.
Says less will SOMEHOW become more.
Less food. Less art. Less music.
Starve the body. Starve the mind.
Starve whatever might have fought back.
The old system doesn’t just break you.
It trains you to break yourself.
Faster. Come on. Faster.
Go, dog. Go.
Talk radio propaganda is your non stop fantasy coach
that always puts you “in”
another beloved by the community constant pedophile
“ INSTRUCTOR” telling your kids “do it faster, baby . Yeah... oh, yeah, just like that, gimme more. One more time , don’t stop now.”
Sports or animal ****** ?
the only outlets you have given or shown them
and you wonder why little Johnny can’t read
as the bodies clog the “ busses only” lane
in front of another school.
slap another NRA sticker on their NFL lunch box.
Another golden little chick waiting to be sorted
stacked on top in trays as the waste falls
used and discarded.
Dr. Suess had it right.
Go, dog.
“Move at the speed the system demands.”
Go !(It's not like they just woke up today and figured out
that paying one guy to put a gun in your back is cheaper than paying us all. Never forget they can't survive without us, and
there's more of us than them.)
Oh, and don’t remember “ Think positive”.
I mean after all ... They are watching.
Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 2:43 PM UTC
More time ?
You can have mine.
Life ISN’T too short , not at all, not even close.
Your god or mine. Doesn’t matter.
Never has
never will.
I don’t matter and neither do you,
you thoughts or the lack thereof.
What you didn’t do, what you couldn’t.
What you thought ART was
and never even knew that’s what you expected.
Screaming into the void
that’s what they want you to believe you are doing.
Are you a void ?
Am I yours ?
Does it matter that I can’t stop screaming ?
Am I the scream ?..
Cause I’ve never seen this void they keep telling me about
and wouldn’t care if I did
it like me , must mean nothing.
If only I had more time to do nothing to mean nothing
to scream into this non existent void for nothing and no one
not even me.
And still I am happiest that I am NOT you,
for you;
I am happy and unhappy... for you.
Do you feel or understand
my
time
here ?
Is the void calling to you ? ; because I can’t hear it .
Mar 29
Mar 29, 2026 at 7:27 PM UTC
Where does your guilt come from? Who gave you , your label ?
Do you wear it from your bed to your grave?
Do you care ?
Are you able ?
Do you kneel down, bow your head, and pray,
wear out your poorly "designed" knees,
every single day?
Whisper to heaven through cracked, hungry lips,
while your God watches in silence.
Planning his next true greatness
disaster or violence.
Sculpted hunger
holy hands, crafting chains before we can stand,
every stumble before you are born,
Yahweh knows every hair on your head
and can read your thoughts and intent, they warn.
Call it “free will” … what a beautiful lie.
Which one is it?
Predestined or choice ?
You can't have both just as I,
can't use my voice.
I could say anything but not this...
I can't ask you to trade reality for your holier than thou eternal bliss.
Who failed whom ?
Have I failed you, failed God and his son / self they say
I confess only, that it's true,
I doubted, I cursed, I look away from you,
But how do you fall from a high ground you weren't given?
Not even to look upon or realize.
Surprise, surprise.
How do I sin before you
in this cage I was born in?
I had no choice then, but now I must live a life I never knew,
“ born again”.
To make the wolf, then blame it for the bite...
You built the demon darkness, then demanded my tithe in the light.
You handed me nothing
but hunger, guilt and shame,
then engraved on my hellish tombstone
"he had only himself to blame."
Who's sin is greater — Yahweh's or mine?
This Jewish storm god is presented as eternal, infinite, divine…
whereas
I am dust. I am broken. I am born needing redemption ? I am tested and tired.
Or am I just another human and my brain is hard wired.
They gave him every power. His chosen ones.
Now they fund red hats and push guns.
The church as a building, the Synagogue has never shut its doors.
Imposing its morality and doing its chores.
As the world rose and collapsed again and again all around.
The red sea parted they were not swept away or drowned.
Through empires and revolutions.
Enlightenments and renaissance did nothing to break their control or continuity.
The banker has always had more and known the risk.
God has his heaven and yours
and your prayers morning noon and night.
You cannot run or hide from his judgment or escape his ‘salt pillar’ might.
I've got a dirt floor, and an empty cupboard.
Why ask or expect there is more.
Bow to the dollar, the same way you bow to the cross.
Just don't try and judge me or say you know me
or understand my loss.
Turns out the only god that you really follow... is your boss.
( but wasn't that always the point? )
Money is the burning bush that actually speaks,
It parts the red sea of every landlord it meets,
It raises the dead weight of debt off your back.
Show me a prayer that can do that.
So maybe I failed ...
I'll wear that cross bare,
But who built the gallows before I got there,
You call it a test,
I call it a trap.
A cosmic joke laughing while I fumble with the map.
Explain this to me:
Why does a child starve
in plain sight of the garden or sea?
Why does the righteous man beg for his bread,
While the man with no conscience sleeps easy in bed?
I failed, YOU?
Fine.
Write it down.
Who failed me ?
What power do I have compared to yours?
I never claimed that I did all this.
I do accept the good I have done,
and I only thank god that I am not the only one and I am not alone.
I know you are only a social construct, and I am but flesh and bone.
Judge me forever, say there are things that are unforgivable.
Now claim you didn't make the crooked
before a breath I could draw,
And if we only fail,
who is responsible for what flaw?
because failure was your lofty plan.
You do what you must.
and I WILL DO what I can.
Then the greatest lie ever told...
was that you loved man.
You made us to bask in our eternal inferiority.
Refuse; and burn eternally
now that's real love.
The truth,
when push comes to shove.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 4:04 PM UTC
The war of words. Mine versus Yours … for sparkles NOW ?
Why do you even read if all you want to do is hear yourself?
You need someone else to tell you what to think and feel.
Try and find some deeper meaning
that someone else has figured out for you ?
, that you could staple onto your own meaningless unfulfilled excuse for a life.
Or worse yet,
quote me
as you
trying to pass yourself off as brilliant.
What, did you spend 15 minutes of one day thinking
that art was supposed to be or do
for you?
Are you one of those coddled little ***** sycophants?
Whose mommy never stopped providing a V chip safe space for?
Have you spent your whole life never being challenged?
Moping around, pilled up and complaining about being offended
from one participation trophy to another…
( no I’m not a Republican, Karen )
Did you think that life was all supposed to be roses are red violets are blue?
That I'm here to enlighten or entertain you ?
to feed you dopamine?
Another pat on the head.
This isn't tick tock
At least not yet ,
Elliot was a hero for years
but now
I have to swipe right
like and subscribe
for what ? Sparkles ? Am I 10 ?
Stars ?
Too bad you couldn’t make them tin foil and gold
right ?
Wow… reduce my art to a shallow popularity beg
SHAME.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 12:09 AM UTC
I felt most assuredly what the world had labeled me.
As I writhed there in the refuse slumped over, alone and keening.
Pressed in close I became one with the cans, the dumpster.
The garbage man, however. Passed me by.
The curb drenched buzzing strobe of the untimeable .
With a handful of stamps.
I licked them all over.
Covering them in slobber. With bleary eyes I slapped on, more than enough.
Tried to force myself into the mail. ( I felt small enough.)
But when the postmen came,
they simply shrugged.
And still, there I sat.
(Why would no one take me away? )
Away from all this.
Oh, but when the crack man came ...
Mar 11
Mar 11, 2026 at 3:17 PM UTC
The sands of Canaan's ancient lore,
Where Baal the real storm-god was worshiped through his righteous war,
Against Yam the sea itself the taker of many and more,
thrashing, wild
salty embrace,
the many clubs of Kothar, smashed Yam in his serpent's face
relentless until Yam's heads split in two.
Their love was shattered, for them… not me or you.
Family in his watery realm.
Thunder for his might bereaved.
Rejoiced or grieved.
Mot then as grim death, or simply famine's hollow maw,
somehow swallowed Baal whole
as daily he threatens to again consume us all.
Contemptuous flaw; and not the end for Baal .
Anat was beckoned to avenge him too, grinding Mot like grain,
before it was through.
Reviving Baal to rule again, their eternal fertile plain.
Long before Yahweh was ever even known to be capable of rain.
Yahweh , in his obscurity
lands withered barren, no rain, no verdant law.
They gave what they got and saw what they saw. NOTHING .
Anat though was a powerful women,
they tried to erase her from history
take her femininity away from you and me .
This fierce sister, hunted their devourer grim,
Seized Mot in her wrath, cleaved her enemies limb from limb
With sword splitting, sieve
she winnowed our grain, teaching us how
but to her we were never forced to bow.
She burned some in fire, grinding under millstone
reaped from the plow.
Generously scattering his remnants to the birds to claim
A grotesque pulverizing, we hear of the deeds seldom realizing
death's own death they proclaim.
Baal rose again of course
renewed, fertility and its power restored,
these cycles whisper Isis , Osiris : old gods to new
faded,
ignored.
The tribes of Shem though were not done with him .
They defaced Baal in the worst of ways
stripping him not only of power and deed
but of his very name in their lowly screed.
They rebranded him as only Hadad
a once mighty life bringer
reduced to yet another god .
Another of which you must forsake
for there would be only one who’s lessons of 'love'
you were to take.
When the Iron came
it literally fell
into the wrong hands
of those , who had forgotten well.
That would almost be the end of Baal
The end of the true old gods.
The end of excitement and heroism
and deed in myth ,
and thus
the weakening of us all. No Arete or grand call.
For greatness in combat and love making was to be no longer sought
replaced by bland sameness, infinite rules and rituals are what the 12 tribes taught.
Denigrated into “ turning the other cheek”
a lie perpetrated to control the newly created liars
the meek
forever leading the meek.
They shall NOT inherit this earth
for money and greed was always their true god
and to it , daily ... they give birth....
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 1:11 PM UTC