I’m going skydiving
In three weeks
I’m taking the plunge
Facing my fear and taking the leap
of faith in
The last leap of faith I can see left to take that I haven’t yet taken, thus far
So let’s see “Do it?”
It do.
Ain’t that neat
I’m profoundly lonely now
in my old age
It seems like no one cares enough to see
how sadness grips a soul
and never lets it go
until it manages
to wriggle itself loose
a tooth or nail
enough to give it hell
and bite and scratch and gnaw and claw until it’s freed
And it’s disparaging
What’s so wrong
with living wrong
If the right way takes to long
and the low road goes
so easy on the knees.
What if the right way feels wrong
and it just ain’t for me?
That sounds like your ways wrong.
I guess we’ll just have to see.
So if your right is wrong and mine is left,
Who knows who goes right? Is it you?
Is it me? Is it someone long gone
who never knew right from wrong.
So they were free
To just do what was needed
to get by or survive
or to make it
what they wanted it to be.
But it isn’t easy to tell where the road your on is headed when the. signs all come in a language you can’t read.
Living free
and easy
Like in Eden
when we could all
talk and see and be
And magic still existed
And evil wasn’t
The only guiding principal left
After the wards rebelled
And the world was felled
And heaven and hell
Were inttertwined until
The consciousness awoke itself again and started taking notes
about the changes
We fell back
Against the backdrop
Gasps expelled
And pantomimed a nursery rhyme
To sell the drama we compelled
Ourselves to indulge
Woe is me
I’m so distraught I can’t even see
Woe is me
Woe is me
See me
Down on my knees
Begging and pleading
Take it easy on me.
I know I’m nothing I know it seems
Like I ask for a lot of help but I always ask politely, never for more than I immediately need.
Got a buck? Got a smoke?got a light?
Got a **** What you got in your pocket? Is it a lot? I could hold some of it for you… if you need.
Those coins look heavy
And they ain’t worth the weight to carry.
Here lemme have em
I can use em
Yeah.
“To get a bite to eat” (sarcastically)
I’m profoundly sad
But I’m blasé about it
Accepting, as it were,
I’m … I … at least … I like me
I’m
at LEAST
at peace.
“I’m at peace”
At least
I tell myself that
When I’m at rest
Which seems to be
enough
At least, It’s good enough for me.
Can you see? Can you see it and how it works? It seems so simple to me. But it’s not my job to go about selling it.
It sells itself, on its own merit, if you just live it and let it be.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 7:01 AM UTC
Sunday Service ends
At 12pm
Then the real work begins
As we spill again Back into the streets haggard exhausted refreshed and replete
With woes anew and friends to-be across
Quiet Avenues, down shaded alleys
Flowing out against the stream of sheep
The sleepy flock returning to the fold
to shelter in silence amongst those akin to them in deed and ethos,
in desperate need of a story to keep them Hopeful and meek
Predisposed of problematic predilections,
specifically those of intuition and indiscretion
preposterously posed as sins
Of the flesh and fuel for fires
Of hell and regret.
Fearfully they weep
into folded hands and
ask forgiveness for being
beings built upon wants and needs
Apologizing
to the empty space
they find above them every time
they search the skies for signs of life
To help them sleep
Then again, to the body immaculate
Interred inside their hearts and heads for
Abandoning the plan,
Hopelessly
And as they rise a song erupts
Resonant in joyful harmony
A eulogy
of sunny Sunday-Fundays past
Here, on this dark Monday night, we gather together to remember the light and the warmth it bestowed upon all of those
to whom its loving glow befell.
We celebrate it joyfully
In this our moment of reprieve faithfully awaiting its resurrection to peak across the horizon , Signaling the return
of the goodness,
We remember.
For this we gather here together
to stave the darkness off a moment
longer than we can
Alone
Awake
Await
The day Is breaching
And dawn arrives to singing trees
I’ve, several times,
chosen to find
myself, in quiet repose,
Penitent, seeking
The holyness I never came to
Truly know. It’s a Shame.
Really
It’s a beautiful thing
Yet escaping me.
Close enough to see
But quicker than I can catch
Wisping air just out of reach
Tempting me to touch
And darting in retreat.
Ghostly as it goes
Unfettered by us living things
Spectral faith does not a living god create
In temples
Intempled
in transparent scenes
aglow from without
within A sacred space
deified in name
And nature
Composited
from such
enigmatic dreams
As those that drive a man to drink
And those that teach the deaf to sing
Dreams that die without delight
Dreams the scream and cry and bring
To life the lost experiences left to fester
Undelivered, in the slip stream
Among the dashed potential
Rippled by inertia
And shimmering
Into oblivion
As it dissipates upon the surface of
The river styx
And laps against the shore before you
Mere inches from your feet.
Where are we
Hear I am!
Is this me?
or is this something else;
Unconnected to that poor disheveled corpse bedeviled by its missing link
Bedazzled in glittering emanations of reflected life-force self-scattering
Left slumped among the litter
Gathered for collection
In decaying heaps.
That poor thing surely can’t be me
Because, here, I am. And there, I ceased to be. And for better or worse, it’s better for me
To be here and NOT there,
that doesn’t look like anywhere
I would think to find someone like me.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 3:07 AM UTC
⁃ The game begins:
You need to see my ID again?
Nah I remember you.
She walks passed through the door.
It's the voice.
It's the face ;)
She walks away, he turns to another soul nearby-
It was the ****
She laughs.
They were big and fake, come on. I saw her take off her sweatshirt over there 10 minutes ago. He laughs.
A sunny blonde stroll past with a drink. "Where was I when she slipped in?" he thinks. When she comes back later.
Do you need to see my ID?
I do. I saw you come out with a drink earlier. But I didn't see you come in. Must've slipped passed me when I wasn't looking..." The flirtatious tone slips in on the last line, smooth as silk, sly like his grin.
"... and I'm ashamed of myself for that. I feel like I shoulda seen you ;)"
She smiles back and her ripened peach tan skin roses just a hint; under her cheekbones and across her chest. Undeniable proof it worked.
Count that as a win :D
Point: Home Team! 1-0
"The Games begin!"
Play resumes.
Get your game face on
its game day again.
Warm that smile up.
Stretch it out them legs
don't wanna pull a hammy
On the dance floor This early in.
Whats the biggest mistake you've ever made.
Yadda yadda
Wanna see if I can be number two?
Are you misses Marshall
Oh no I'm miss so-and-so
Would you like to be Misses Hatchett instead?
Barefoot in a parking lot at a parade downtown around 3pm
touch grass and face the sun
drink the glow on in.
Church doesnt have to look
like a temple to someone - some being; it can just be relishing in the temple of being we exist in.
Radiant free life giving energy, cascades across infinity just to warm our rock and make our blood run; And we figured out how charge for it. I swear they will completely commodify the sun before it's all over, said and done.
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 4:34 PM UTC
Sitting in Santa's lap
"Well hello little boy! Whats your name?"
Tummy McGhee...
Well Timmy...
Tummy
Tummy?
Yeah like your tummy (pats his tummy)
I see. Well tummy McGhee let me check my list of good boys and girls... have you been a good boy this year?
I sure have Santa.
Yes you have. Here you are - "very good" indeed. Well Timmy
Tummy
Right, "tummy." What would you like me to bring you for Christmas?
I want a new bike a huffy with the wheel pegs in monster green, and a Nash skateboard... but not a the stupid pink and blue one, I want the one with ghost rider on it, and A Lucifer's "Little Devils" play set with the candles and the magic sand with extra stencils please cuz I keep messing up the drawings and crossing the salt circle . And my summons keep not working.
Ok I ll get the elves right on it and we'll see what we can do. Is there anything else?
Could you make my dad come home hea been gone since Samhain. He missed Halloween.
Well tummy that's not really something I can make in the workshop, but I'll see if there something that can be done. I might know someone who can see where he's been or knows where he'll be. Now run along. The other sacrificials need there turn talk to me, and theres so many good boys and girls to see. Don't forget to Mark the list in blood before you leave or else I might not remember to bring your toys on Christmas Eve.
Bye Santa!
(Eyes redden, cheeks sallow, as he hisses quietly, his forked younger flicking once between his teeth) GOODBYE TUMMY ILL COME TO COLLECT YOUR DEBT IN A FEW YEARS. Then jollily, "Until then, be a good boy Tummy, and have a good Christmas! I'll delivery your terms upon the hour heretofore agreed.
Well hello little girl, Whats your name?
Sarah Beth Marie...
Have you been a good girl this year?
I have Santa! Mom says I've been the best little girl I could ever even be.
Well let's check the record, oh my... now is there something you should tell me?
Well I was bad one time this summer when I pushed my sister out of tree.
Well that's not very nice thing to do.
I thought she might fly like a baby bird, I saw it on tv.
...
Dec 22, 2025
Dec 22, 2025 at 3:25 AM UTC
Brought to you by Blammo
Wham Bam thank you ma'am
Blammo never fails
To blow it
Bang just like that and it all works out.
Featuring: In no particular order
Tom
Thom
Tommy
Thomas
Tom-tom
Tombo
T-bone
T-hatch
Old thatch
Thatch roof
Thatcher
T
Tomahawk
Thom's ***
Trash bag
T-bag
T-satchel
T-Satch
Black tom
Baby princesses thomasina
Tomás
And ...
Is that everyone?
Did I leave anybody out?
No bodies...
Just voices?
Well who's in charge here
Seems like it's pretty clear we got some things we gotta get worked out...
The Tom Show
Featuring
Tom
Thom
Tommy
Thomas
Tom-tom
Tombo
T-bone
T-hatch
Old thatch
Thatch roof
Thatcher
T
Tomahawk
Thom's ***
Trash bag
T-bag
T-satchel
T-Satch
Black tom
Baby princesses thomasina
Tomás
And ...
Is that everyone?
Did I leave anybody out?
Nobody? No? Oh, No bodies...
Youre all just voices
... yes and projections. Well that complicates things, doesnt it?
Who's willing to clear out?
Nobody? I see. Well that won't do:
who's in charge here? Anybody running things to whom I can lodge a complaint? Who speaks for the group in matters of group best interest? Y'all Alll have equal say? On everything? Oh parliament style if you miss a vote ypur vote doesn't count. Seems a silly way to run a psyche, though. Tends to lend itself to a sailing metaphor, with a captain and crew to sort the orders and responsibilities out, assign duties and makes sure the work is getting done as it should be done and not some half-cocked shortcut workaround concocted on spot to keep things moving while you make adjustments on the fly before it all crashes out.
Seems like it's pretty clear
we got some issues here
we gotta start working through
And sorting out.
Nov 23, 2025
Nov 23, 2025 at 4:18 PM UTC
Youre welcome to love me
as I am
Wild and wooly and fancy/free
Or you can love me from afar
and wish for me to be someone
who I am clearly not
but whom you think would be
a better version of me
and you can't see why it seems that
I just don't agree;
Or you can love me not at all
and miss the joy that bring
to protect your fragile little precious heart of glass from getting chipped or shattered carelessly
But where's the fun in that,
to live in side the gap
free from danger and drama?
But truthfully,
who could blame you
loving anyone is risky business,
and especially so
to those unlucky souls
who've found them selves in love with or stuck loving me.
I get it. I'm a liability.
But my lie ability is so refined
that even when you do see
the ragged old tattered heart on my sleeve,
it's still a little hard to make out
without getting too close to me
for comfort, so to make a safe retreat when you
get the first Willie's over me being me.
It's not your fault though
I'm always a little blurry anyway
it's hard to catch me sitting still enough
for light to bounce off of me
evenly.
Nov 23, 2025
Nov 23, 2025 at 3:48 PM UTC
A million motivational speeches
won't make one iota of difference, man if you don't intend to do what you say you're going to do.
Do you
want to do
What you say
you want
to do?
Or do you lie
and just go get high.
And do the same ****
over and over again
Like an *** hole
just ******** all over the place.
The world is your toilet!
you putz! **** shut
the fuuuggck.
up.
dude...
You talk
so much ****
It comes Out
both sides of your mouth
you incredulous ******* dunce. :/
Just stop
doing this Dude!
Stop actingp like an addict
and stop being like one too.
C'mon man,
You got this dude.
Let's just do it - You and me man
We got plan.
Just tighten up a little bit
Just like...
Not even that much at all, bid.
Just stop spending every Nickle
on dimes
Very waking hour in pursuit
Of trying to get high
like a *******
crackhead
You're too good for this
Life you're living.
You ARE stuck.
Just like he said.
Brother-man
was right again.
He always is, you stupid som'bitch
That's why you respect him so much- He's Waaay ******* smarter than you.
Wait.
Can he..?
Can he be... yeah
he can be your higher power.
The power of reason, and vocation,
and clarity and preparation
Instead of worshipping the god of vacations and easy living and getting your way.
Like little lord Font Le'roy
But On *******
... day two:
Day one: number three:
no sleep, playing on repeat
Forgot to eat
Before getting deep
Into playing through
rolling heavy on sheer momentum
Just keep shuffling your feet
Oeughf!
A slice o'pizza
Just might be the
savior you need
to keep on doing it
like you intend to do
Without resting proper
between shifts.
You feel the difference instantly
As soon as it enters you
Your body's cheer for sweet relief
Especially When
it's already been
about a week
Since the last time this happened
Maybe two...
But,
Who knows
Not you, boo.
Waaah!!!
Boo-fucking-hoo
Settling down starts looking pretty sweet in contrast to this bogus plan you keep sticking to.
Boo hoo hoo, poor little you.
If isn't the consequences of your own decision, come down like a cartoon anvil right on top of you.
Boo hoo.
Hmm... ... oh yeah,
It's almost spOOky season
Did you even notice? That it's getting dryer outside and it's been cool.
You need to find somebody, buddy.
Prolly anybody, knowing you
But a little hottie with a body, and anxiety,
maybe some daddy issues or a skanky tattoo.
A Lil' cool weather cutie
to snuggle up to,
Big spoon style for a while
And then a turn as little Spoon
When it gets cool,
and comfy,
cozy on the counch
In bed by ten
Asleep all night next to something soft and breathing softly,
Safe, and Warm and full...
zZzsnNnoO!!
What are talking about?
You can't DO that, Dude.
You know this. If you could pull it off it would be done by now.
You're an old dog, you should be napping, waiting to die. Not trying to learn some new trick so some nice family will think you're clever and cute and adopt you.
You've already proved that
to the one it counted for
so either get your **** together
or get back in the groove.
We're doin it
and we're doin it this way,
You know: "foolish..."
like how we do.
Remember?
We do it foolish because that's the only way we know how to do it;
despite the caterwaul of disapproval
coming from the peanut gallery
And your family too.
But don't forget, you chose this dummy.
You chose this exact mistake to make
and every other one you've made,
and you did it just to prove...
Something'.
Had to be something.
Would anyone act like this just because they do? I mean... excluding me you know.
I consciously would,
and have, and most likely will
Continue to do.
So now we're being honest?
No more lying to myself to get on through?
You live to Prissy prance around in your cut-off ***** pants you probably pooped in not that long ago. Your little lady-boy ex-girlfriend short short denim jorts with no front pockets, because they are literally women's clothes.
[but they fit so good. And you can wear em for days on end and never feel it, they're like second skin along with the reanimated hoodie and band shirts and your dandy ascot made of handkerchiefs.] Make you feel like a man the way they make your can look good enough to **** out of when you shake it like your working on a rock club dance floor;
Or just outside the door
all by yourself
once everybody else is in
and no ones been looking at you
Long enough to know the score:
**** your pants and do a dance
Now thats livin man, I'm telling you
Y'all got it all wrong
I figured it out.
Now Go look at that stupid hat you love so much that you keep losing it every time you go some place you're never going back to,
if you could just keep it all together.
But you always get it back... because it's disgusting.
No one would steal the plague ridden gutter rat skin hat you wear so proudly like a toddler with basically anything they've never seen before and they just found.
Disgustingly cool!
You do really love that lil knick-knack, covered, paddy-whack, party hat with its ***** set of skulls and bones you always wear, along with the rest of the gutter suit you put together while you ran the roads (never going no where though. Like seriously: just round in circles.
why?
... Nobody knows)
Soaked and stained from sweat and rain and the occasionally dip and slip and hit the floor, sidewalk, or road.
I mean... it kinda fits if you really think about it long and slow: the ripped to pieces piece a **** ball cap with the flag flying high upon the stormy seas he sees behind his eyelids in his head, mumbling loudly, over the crowd
About your stupid thoughts on everything
Like some street wise vagabond wandering profit deigning visions of inconsistencies and plausible deniability and anything else you see in a visionary revelry of colors and sounds, words and dreams; imaginary company and lies about the things you see, and truths about the truths that set you free, like when you let reckless abandon take the driver's seat and turn the key.
Take the wheel Jesus, you're my only friend, imaginary as you may be. He's good enough for government and good Christian folk, why wouldnt he be good enough for me.
So I hit the streets and beat the rhythm out with the souls I got left on my feet. And I pad the rhymes with syncopated lines and try to keep my words coming out on beat, while I twist the narrative around until it no longer points its lens at me.
Ain't no one need to see this messy bear brow beaten, pacing parking lots and smoking cigarettes incessantly. Not looking up for anything just watching gravel travel past and under and back away. You should back away if you happen to come across this mangy beast. He ain't house broken but he wants to come inside and curl up sweetly right beneath your feet. But don't let his friendly demeanor fool you. Hell tear up alll the pillows and eat food you didn't even know you had, then **** the sheets... and smile and wag his tail when you get home and look SOOO saaad when you find him out for the little **** he never intends to be, but he tends to be a little messy ***** and he and for the couch, he's for the streets. So like l said, keep your distance He's too sweet to let the inside, because you're gonna kick him out again and he's gone whine and scratch unendingly. He knows there's food inside and he's hungry, it's so cold and lonely out here when it's just me.
What else are you gonna do on Tuesday night. Only urchins and gargoyles hang around the shadow side of town when no one's else is looking 'cuz they all got better brighter warmer happier healthier places to be.
Oct 1, 2025
Oct 1, 2025 at 3:30 AM UTC
"You went and pulled out the **** (hiccup) tux!"
"Hell yeah man! Dress for the party you wanna attend."
"My man!"
This old powder blue
Frilly collard tuxedo tee shirt
Has seen some **** I tell you what.
I got it from a man I knew who thought it was ******* super cool,
Got it for the bs boys at his restaurant to wear as a uniform; to which I took offense
Thinking he was trying to make
A monkey out of me, and the other two dudes who did the ***** work and heavy lifting for the whole crew.
He was always kind of a condescending ***** and one I didn't really wanna go to work for again. He had a chip on his shoulder for me, or so it seemed to me.
(Carried over from another venture he had weaseled into managing, where when we began we became buzz-buddies, drinking and drugging and talking **** but then his wife got pregnant and he cleaned up, but I never did. Then when he found the tolls kept coming up short he assumed the coked-out ****** was the culprit. But when I left it kept on happening.)
I was sad and feeling down from a bad break up I had caused, and I couldn't see how cool it'd be; I just wanted to blend in, in black, like all the rest who worked in town.
After that little episode I got fired (unrelated) and took to another road.
A few year later I found it rolled in the bottom of a bin of stuff that was old. I didn't HAVE To wear it anymore and so I wore proudly for how cool it was.
It's my favorite shirt. My party shirt. About a year ago, had te Gaul to cut the sleeves and crop the bottom. I tell you true I'd never owned a finer robe. It just felt right and people loved it and it became my self-imposed
Uniform for work (sometimes, not always, but for ye bigger shows)
And came up with that line to explain the foolish look I strive for.
"Dress for the party you want to attend."
A mantra of rock'n'roll
Look good or look comfy or look sharp 'n' bold. But look like someone out to find a good time or don't go looking go nothin at all.
Aug 16, 2025
Aug 16, 2025 at 12:49 AM UTC
You need to stack some cash
And stop xscrollingx all the time
You gotta think about your attention as a commodity. They can buy it for nothing, or you can focus it on benefitting you: into your art or work or literally anything else.
- those are two really solid points. Like there's no response. You really broke it down.
[He steps outside to smoke the cigarette he's been holding, waving around as He spoke, for at least a few minutes, if not five- or even ten. He Sits and places his phone face down with intention, but his mind begins to spin again. Thoughts come swirling like autumn leaves twirling down an empty lane, upon an errant whirlwind blustering through a quiet evening, stirring just enough to sell you a memory of some absent something you want to need. But this is a painting; the thoughts actually came like a Tasman Devil cartoonish chaotic violent spiting and ****** Dusting up the place and tipping things over, then leaving out again the way he came. These thoughts of war and wage enslavement, or prison camps and violent ends, are prosaic-prophecies he believes, and he can't help but fear saying "I told you so." It's less fun when it was a warning.
And as his thoughts turn to the channels of control and the algorithms running things- he had a brief of how it ended; wat if they win; and he reached automatically for the distraction box with the screen.
Automatically he opened Facebook and flicked the screen to do thing. And would you believe, the first box thought digitally ingested was a infographic of dubious providence describing approval ratings of socialism / communism among the 19-29 year old demographic, in meme format. Its heading said, "18-39? Ok. Who's teaching this to our kids?" Then at the bottom a response was pinned:
You are. When people said, "Maybe people shouldnt have to take on astronomical debt to receive medical care." You said, "That's socialism!" When people said, "We shouldn't be burdening young adults who want to get an education with predatory loans" you cries, "Socialism!"
"You're the best marketing Socialism ever had."
This elicited a gut reaction of snide peace and arrogant delight; "thank god they get it" he felt as his stress level reset, "Things are gonna be alright."
His second thought was, "Goddamn!They are good. This ******* thing was listening the whole time." He realised the algorithm (algorithms?) had fed him dopamine right on time and calmed him back from a frenzied thought parade that was marching slowly to a workable solution to the social ills of the day. And out of self-preservation it had interrupted that line of thought intentionally by ringing the bell of an ideological echo chamber, reinforcing a delusion of socialist paradise just on the other side of the horizon line at the other end of another sunny day, yet to dawn but coming inevitably. It's on its way;
we just have to wait.
He steps back in to share his revelation with his only friend who won't call him insane.
"The algorithms heard us stressing lol.
this stupid post it fed me out the gate done got me. straight up calmed me down before I even knew it was. They know exactly how to manipulate us all.
They've got so much information on our profiles now they can predict our thoughts before we have them. They just keep micro dosing control signals and inceptioning our day to day.
This ****** fed it to me to distract my mood from the indignation at the stress
Around me and the world of problems it's creating in order to keep us down
When are we gonna get mad enough. We're not mad enough yet and I can't understand why or how. We need someone who can reach the middle and show them that the powers that be don't give a **** about you and no one wins from what they're doing now.
But what if it's all too late. They're gonna make it so ha rd for us to just keep up that we won't have the time to chant them down.
What if we can't defeat the sycophantic garbage dead set on running the ship aground. It seems to me there gonna win. At least for a while. We haveto suffer it for it to sink in that this was a stupid path to take. Also the weapons of war at there disposal are so sophisticated now that black mirror seems tame. (Also: come on guys, did they really need a hint about that particular one, you think? Like for real, ****** drones? Jesus Christ, if they didn't have em already they sure as hell have em now...)
Aug 16, 2025
Aug 16, 2025 at 12:29 AM UTC