There was a
time so long ago
it's as if I was
someone else.

Back when
he was all
of what I had hoped
to become.

Throughout the years
he prospered as a
working man.
Which brought along
the burdens
of becoming a family
man.

As he fell
into the horror that
is "The Domesticated Life",
I was on the
streets doing
what I knew how.
Or surviving beneath the
long gun on a desolate
prison yard amongst
the souls that man
had condemned

As the drum roll
of the life that
is America
played itself
out like a re-run you've
seen too many times.
The working man
he had always been
began to turn
more into a drinking man.

There was nothing
romantic or
exciting about
his drinking.
Nothing good ever came
out of it.
Nothing like
when Hemingway
did it.
Or when Bukowski
took hold of
the bottle,then
mastered it.

His demise
approached like
a slow moving
swell.
Slowly gathering
up all he had
accumulated
throughout
his years
of labor.
Steadily
gathering
the momentum
needed
to fall a man.

And when that
wave of failures
and alcoholism
finally hit
the shores of
his reality.
His will had already
been weakened
and the little bit
of fight he had
left in him refused
to put up
his fists in
defense.

I bore witness
to that which has
to be far more
painful to see than
death.

I watched a man give
into the pull of insanity
as he threw it all away
without even the slightest
hint of grace.

It's scares me
when I talk to people
and hear how
wrapped up they
are in
meaningless *******.

Long haired California girls wear skin tight jeans with 7' inch heels  for a trip to the liquor store.
It's getting harder to tell which ones are dancing by night and spending by day.

Panhandlers and the truly insane sit outside stores they can't afford.
Asking people they don't know for help they really don't got the time or reason enough to give.  

Every soldier needs an enemy or they wouldn't be any use for any soldiers at all.
All these Cops decked out in Army grade hand me downs got me wondering "Who is their enemy?"
As I look around and only see us and them.

Latch-key kids all over this city talking on cell phones while eating $4.00 ice cream and riding a Hoverboard.
Independent little adults who see no reason to respect anyone or anything  at all.

You only see stray cats in the ghetto.

I'm against everything based on Fear.
Propaganda in this country has hit an all time high.

People don't even care about the Truth anymore.

The Truth is all I Care About.

I will make enemies and be ridiculed
while protecting the Truth.

Protecting it from all those who wish to smear their
Fear based ******* upon it.

We had some of the best talks,
some of the best laughs.

I got some of the best advice,
and we shared some things
we always considered secrets.

I forgave him and
he accepted me and all my flaws.

And I spent hours and days
there beside his death bed.

Watching as he bravely faced
the empty shadow of death.
The tears all fall in silence
as what's left of him fades
like slow clouds behind the mountain.

Leaving behind his broken vessel
for us to cry over, for us to miss.
For the caretaker to burn all away,
for my Mother to toss into the waters.

The dog won't leave the impression
he left on his bed.
The cat wonders the house
checking all the rooms.

His keys and his wallet still sit
on the counter.
The dog still won't leave his room.

I'm sitting in the kitchen but I'm not really here.
My brother hasn't said a word.
My uncle has'nt stopped drinking.
Mother keeps on crying
and there ain't a dam thing I can do.

Its my need to know
that keeps me from turning
out the lights on this forever.

The more i know
the less I feel the need
to add to the crowd.

I'm shattered like
a programmed
*** kitten or teen aged
fame slave.

I like a Moon that's
transparent and
clouds that wont
float away.

Girls on magazine
covers and Girls
in the Bar.

I like moving on the highway
and watching the flashing city lights
as I forget what it was that led me to this.

Fabricated history finds
its way into the text books.
How smart are you who
quotes the lies you've read
and argues their tales as truth.

There's never an ending to all
that we've been told.
The more I discover the
less I find was true.

Sitting in L.A traffic with no A.C
nodding in and out
of this constructed kind of reality.

Wondering about things like
where did the time go?
Where did my friends go?
Why so many lies?
How am I to convince her I've changed
when I've changed very little.

Cell phone rings and I ignore it.
A semi blast its semi horn and
pulls my chin away from my chest.

I'm tired but I don't sleep.
I have nightmares of a life without these
words.

Women all over this city,
can't go a day without seeing
one you'll never have.

Bar keeps and Cops talking about
politics and ball chasing men.
I stopped going to Bars once the
original Bar Fly had passed.

Going through the things I wrote
while up state in a prison cell .
Seems like only yesterday I was
longing for this city.
This city whose
toxic air , beautiful women
and cheap downtown ******  
together are slowly killing me.

Suicide's too easy I'd rather
sit it out and wait.

This traffic and these lipstick painted faces.
These hot summer days in October
and my poems all unsigned.

There's a secret and I know it,
our world was someone else's mine.

Scatter what's left of me
into the smog.
Burn me at death,
my only wish is to be forgotten.

Mothers smoking ***** from a bamboo pipe in the morning.
She peels bananas for breakfast with her hands that are never clean.
Father died in a rich mans mine.
Mother has found an Uncle to beat her on the weekends when the Wine runs out.
Uncle make sister touch his monster in the mornings.

The speakers of His word bring salvation and sugar cane husks for the children after class.
All the parents miss the sermon and drink early morning wine on a sunday.

In the cities and the suburbs girls chose the guys who can buy them jewels and give them children.
Security is what matters who cares how you feel.
A thousand smiles smile back as she holds the sparkling stone high for everyone to admire.

He felt safer with his sister towing buckets in the mine.
His Uncle didn't like it but the money bought more drink.
They always needed children to venture deeper in the Earth.
Slender hands and small bodies pulling Diamonds from the mines .

She secretly admired the promise on her finger as he pounded away on her ripe smelling flesh.
It takes a special kind of someone to fake it all for Gems .
Men so lonely they convince themselves it's Love ,when they really know it's Diamonds.

There's something about stones that take lifetimes to form .
A Gem so strong only the hands of a child can set them free.

   What a symbol for promise ,for Love and forever.
A stone pulled from the Earth by way of child labor and sometimes child blood.

Our time here is lacking.
The gifts have all been given.

Withheld by men in long coats and deep hats.
The mysteries have yet to be explored.

We are what makes up this space in time.
History will be decided by actions set forth by men not Gods.

We are in the time of the deprived.
Our time will never know the gifts of Magic.

Truth in our age is but a story better told by Liars.
It's a mass hypnosis that very few can comprehend.

The way of things will one day come to an end .
We are living in the age of Deceit.

If by Halloween night things
have still yet to be.
I'll consider myself lucky
if there's no October surprise
for me.

There is no truth .

It's all a rich mans joke.

The distant surf
crashes against the old
Spanish wall.
Sounding like slow
volleys of gunfire
ricocheting off
the jagged cliffs
above.

The sea side stillness
of the night is
disturbed by
my footsteps.
They crunch a
million grains
of sand with
every step
I take along
this jaded
asphalt.

At this hour
all of this is
closed,they put
hours and gates
around
whats free.

Wet feral cats
chase giant
wharf rats all
through the
cavernous
crevasses
between the
break walls
giant stones.

Across the Harbor
on the calm side.
Lights shine bright
from the
giant cranes
and the
deep green
Span dressed in
strands of
Blue.

The lights
reflected off
the still water
and danced
along small wakes
left behind by
passing boats.

The fumes
of sweet
scented fuel
hides just
beneath the
smell of
salt water and
the rotting
bait fish left
behind by
hopeful
fisherman in
chunks along
the rocks.

A quarter mile
out on the breakwalls end
the Gateway to
the Angels sits
as still and proud
as an ancient Oak.

Its dependable
Lighthouse
vigilance and wisdom
washes over me
as I pass this
night counting
the seconds
between
the shine.

I watered
my thoughts
with moments.

Tiny moments.
Moments forever
trapped
within the
cloudy hollows
of my
experience.

What has
bloomed forth
became
all of this.
This of which
has blossomed
from
tiny moments.

Tiny,
like the feet
of the girls
named
Jade in China.

Tiny moments.
Moments
I thought
grand enough
to share with you.

The pencil lead snapped with a sharp cracking sound.


He continued with a new sense of urgency as he scratched his message across the page.



The black cat bumped its black head against his ankles then brushed its black body across his saggy socks.


He instinctively reached down and scratched the cat behind her black ears without looking.


With his grey stubbled chin he pointed toward the page,


"What about yogurt the frozen kind????".


My smile hid the fact that I wanted to cry, I wanted to hear his voice again, I wanted him to look healthy again, I wanted him to get better.


I said "Of course whatever you need."

He blinked his dark circled, shallow eyes and held them closed for a second to long before nodding his now bald head.


He grabbed another pencil, his hand flew across the page as he wrote.


" Don't worry about me You're gonna be fine."

He has to
drink his
meals,
so I drink
mine to.

I have to
drown his
cells in
nutrients.

I'm
trying
to
keep
someone
alive.

Its Torture.
The cruel
painless kind.

Torture.

Like watching her
from the shadows
as she  
Loves her new Lover
while you're
still so alone.

Within my
mind I've said
a word then
spelled out
in ryhm.
It sounds so perfect
within my
mind.

My quivering lips
mouth the
word in silence.
Im afraid to try.

Listen to my struggle
and you shall see
why it is I choose
to hardly speak.

Its the stammer.

The God given
gift which has
held my
opinions hostage.
Prevented me from
approaching her
and telling her
what she secretly
longed to hear.

Forced me at times
to remain silent
when there was
so much more I
had to say.

This stammer
provides
cruel children
reason enough to be
even crueler.
I speak around certain
words and
communicate
more with the hands.

Kind souls
finish sentences
for me as I fight
for my voice.
Never  knowing that
their attempt
at being helpful
only drives this silent
knife even deeper.

This Stammer has
barricaded what
I need to say
somewhere
within that dead
and maimed space
between
my mind and
my speach.

I'm tunneling my
way out of this
self contained  
prison.

Word by
written word .

I'm slowly
finding
a way for
this silent
and crippled
voice
to finally
be heard.

The music wasn’t too loud and the band played only instrumental music.
Music that I found rather pleasant as it drifted its way above the senseless conversation and obnoxious laughter of one particular group of young drunk ladies .

Tall potted plastic plants stood stone silent next to cheap pressed wood tables filled with used paper plates ,plastic forks, wadded up napkins and half full clear plastic cups.
The floral arrangements had been set at each table with care for the guest to admire. The flowers  had all began to droop as the air became more stale with the sweat and the breath of the drunken people.

I overheard conversations about money and addicted daughters, ******* bosses and good deals on tires.
I heard about how stiff the drinks were and how long the ladies room line was.
I heard them admire the fact there was no traffic on the way here and how the food was ok.
I purposely listened for any comment made about the dying young flowers whose time was cut short in order to be at their table.
I listened the whole night .
I heard no such thing.

A pair of huge ******* brushed against my bad shoulder as a large woman with dyed black hair and too much jewelry on began to speak into my ear.
She spilled a splash of her drink on my only good pair of shoes.
She knew what she had done but never bothered to apologize.

The cheap faux wooden dance floor laid there like a minefield devoid of the swaying bodies and sweaty torsos.
Yet for some reason the music still played on.

I noticed she had a strange need to be as close to you as possible as she spoke.
Her conversation was about as cheap as my shoes and the empty linoleum dance floor.

The party balloons began to lose their ability to float above the senseless conversation,
cheap cologne ,dying young flowers, plastic plants and plastic *******.
I smiled as they began to slowly fall to the floor.

For the third time that night I cursed my decision to come here and mill about with the rest of the cattle.
I went to the bar and got another drink.

Overweight women with undersized clothing stood in line to the single stalled ladies room like needy mothers in a well fare line.

This pair of ******* kept themselves snug against my bad shoulder as the lip stick painted mouth with the tobacco stained teeth kept on about what she did and where she went, who she knew and where she wanted to be and how badly she wanted to smoke.

I downed my drink, the drinks were strong, the drinks were good.
I stopped her in mid sentence and said.
“The trees they all die in silence in the forest’.

I made my way towards the exit passed the dying flowers and the sweaty men.
I hit the double doors with all I had and stepped out into the welcoming night.
I took in the scents of the salt water and the burning fuel, the taco truck across the street and the ***** still on my lips.

Before I left I went back in and tipped the Mexican bartender a 20 dollar bill.
He took the 20 then offered me one on the house which I gladly accepted. It was the strongest drink I had ever had outside my home .
He smiled as I thanked him , his smile held a row of Gold capped teeth the rest were the straightest set of teeth I had ever seen .

I pulled out a extra 10 and left it on the bar.
The Gold toothed bar tender and his stiff drinks were obviously the life of the party and the only real reason I was glad I came.

I'm not one of those
**** CANCER people.

You can't Understand something if you say
**** it.

But I will say Cancer is something I would not wish
upon any living being.

It takes away too many people far before their time.
All the money and material possessions people hold so dear become instantly useless when Cancer comes along.

This is only the beginning for my
small families fight against Cancer.

I plan on learning all I can about this disease
it's origins, reasons and possible cures.

To say **** Cancer is in no way helping anyone's situation.
In order to make a difference in the battle against
Cancer you must first Understand what it is your dealing with.

To enter such a battle with a ******* attitude
will only keep you from truly making a difference
to those inflicted with it today
and those who will fall victim to it tomorrow.

Cars, Diesel trucks Motor bikes and Transit Buses, rebar and structural steel beams, sounds like fading sirens in the distance. Freeways and black topped school yards, city streets without enough tress, jails without enough beds.

Tents blocking sidewalks, cardboard castles where the forgotten go to smoke their prize.

You got millionares next to transients all waiting to be served. 6th and San Julian on another friday that happend to land on the 1st of the month.

Cops killing everybody, not even the innocent stand a chance, courtrooms sit silent as judges all retire to go play golf in the desert. Another innocent man awaits his execution, it'll be a grey day in hell when the blood of the wrong man soaks its entry way.
Beautiful girls and I mean Beautiful girls, start dancing as soon as they learn to walk in heels.

They know what works those filthy ******* who own everything and don't mind if you know it.
They want it this way.
They want her that way and her and her and even him.

City full of *** shops and not a dam thing left to smoke.
Cops still bust down doors like looters in a riot.
No ones has told them Nancy and her War is dead.

Leave where you left off right where you left it.
Lies don't deserve another chance.
I got a new way for you, I got to take some time to fill you in while pulling you out.

We are'nt going anywhere, this place wasn't built to explore.
See the mountain, see that tree stump, giants once ruled our world.

People who don't live here think they know it all from watching T.V.

City lights cast down upon city streets.
They know no other way than to survive once someone comes and shoots their street lights out.

They **** and die for the street.
The fat man on the radio tries to calm the city.

Grafitti acts as a warnig, who'll get the 187 mark out today.

Some grew up on the low side of town where the bridges and the freeways meet.
L.A river acts as borders for the Gang controlled neighborhoods and washes their blood and sometimes their guns away.

Everyone's from somewhere ,are you brave enough to say.

How can the public be so judgmental when all they know is lies.

I'll be that failure I wear that title well.
I won't cast a VOTE I'm not part of their lies nor do I support the whole deception.

I need to see the place beyond the ice where giants still build pyramids and chimeras all fear the wrath of God.

I'm headed south for the winter and to save myself from this system I'll never be apart of without a number around my neck and shackles across my heart.

I need to be where corn is eaten three times a day, siestas are expected and people are the color of the earth.
I want to die amongst the depleted Monarchs and the migrating
Quetzal Hummingbirds.

I wish to put my mind down for its final rest in a place where lies are not respected and the truth is nothing but the truth.

Somewhere thats far away from here.
A place that does'nt feel the need to claim its self the freest of the free while chained to things like laws, debts and the television screen.

I'll be where I don't speak the language and the people don't care.
I'll spend some time in old Mexico drinking away all my bad
memories, dancing with ficheras, making real Love to ****** and finding a way to start over.

A new way after I break free of the lies, bring myself to an end and build up the courage to leave you all behind.
So I can start myself anew.

Hunters wear camoflauge and
play the wind while stalking their prize.

Breath when you squeeze the trigger
the way he taught you when you were just a boy.

Make a clean cut ,save the liver and the still warm heart.

Don't take more than what you need.

A good sized buck can last you all winter.

And always be sure to leave something behind for the
wolves and the wolverines.

Crazy, times moving too fast
not enough time to know about anything
before that anything becomes something
that's already passed.

Don't forget your coat,
don't forget to write home,
don't forget about me.

Holidays wicked holidays
filled with fire and days gone by.
Days you can't help but remember,
days you count the days until its return again .

Holidays act as a place in time
you wish you can live again.
Again like the memories that flash,
the smiles we wore and the wine.
The sweet summer wine.

Some only remember what the wine
hasn't already wiped away.

Celebrate with me this one day
that we all remember.
All the days after this are but a break in time.

Time that's taking all the good you had in you
and all the days spent chasing a little bit
of my yesterdays.
Until my yesterdays are too forgotten.

Another holiday approaches and
we prepare to do it all over again.

Photographs taken on glass plated negatives.
Capture moments such as the Hangman
in the town square with the crude cut eye holes
in a dusty burlap executioners hood.

Pictures tell more than just a story.

Magicians meet in secret.
They sit around with their deep hats.
Shirts worn with Mother of Pearl
square cut cuff-links on the
ends of deep sleeved, steam
pressed, thin cotton shirts.

They meet in silence and sit in a pentagon formation
awaiting a secret to be shared.
None ever are yet the meetings are still held.

Men and only Men who all consider themselves
apart from the Lower men with their Lower wives.
Whose children they see as gifts for their Gods.

Small funny hats and small strange
aprons and a long sleeve shirt with mother of pearl
square cut cuff links.
No secrets here are ever revealed.

Young Virgins with innocent white, long skirted dresses
wear Baby's Breath halos atop their combed,
braided hair for protection.
Running through fields of wild honey suckle
brushing the palms of their hands
along the opened flowers.
Spreading pollen as they move across the field.

A ****** faced stranger who wore his
guns hung low across the hips the way killers do,
watches from atop his restless stallion.
Gamebirds stood stone still with the grass
as the stranger fixed his eyes on the plains below.

With his gloved magic hand he feels
his square cut cuff-link through the
gloves worn leather hyde and
prides himself on his patience
before moving in for the ****.

Crude signs painted
with the blood of the
living denounced
their latest decree.

Standing at the podium
spreading more lies.
All the world be your
theater and
nothing here is real.

Daytime cocktails under the
shadows of the palms.
Blood thinning and
running cold.
Cold like the serpent in the
summer sun.

You left your dreams in a
waste basket a few miles
outside of Vegas.
And all there is to do
is turn the music up
and lie to her some more.

Black draped youth
waving flags of
revolutionary red.

Pock scarred and some beautiful faces
all aimed up towards the waters.
The sound of  millions in the know.
Voices echo off the firmament
and cause ripples to race across
the very fabric of the heavens.

All of them screaming
"We KNOW!!"

And the Gods remained silent
as their secret held no more.

THEY SATURATE YOU DAY IN DAY OUT
EVER WONDER WHY IT'S ON EVERYTHING
EVERYWHERE YOU GO.

PEOPLE ACTING OUT
ARGUING OVER A NONEVENT.
DOING EXACTLY WHAT
THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO DO
LIKE RATS IN A MAZE.

.GET SCARED,GET ANGRY
BLAME THE GUNS
THE VERY THING YOUR LEADERS
CAN'T AND WON'T LIVE WITHOUT.

BUT YOU THE DANGEROUS
FOOLISH PUBLIC
SHOULD'NT HAVE THEM.

DO'NT ASK ANY QUESTIONS
JUST CARRY ON
GO TO WORK
EAT YOUR BURGER
AND PRAY.

THERE WILL BE ANOTHER ONE
PROBABLY TARGETING THE OBESE
AND WE'LL ALL WATCH
THIS SAME THING
PLAY OUT AGAIN.

KIND OF REDUNDANT.

Little Martha and her
yellow apples.
She drinks warm Mezcal
in the Poppy fields.

Copper canyon runners
wear thin leather
thongs on their
callused ash white feet.

Elevated Chicken coops
keep the Hens cool
in the summer and
safe from the
Copperheads on the
desert floor below.

Men soar like
Eagles and glide
around Polaris.
Trust in the
Hemp ropes
and trust in their
Creator.

Her father went South
to fight for his People.
That's the story she
still tells when asked
about him today.

Hair as black as the shadows who chase her.
Skin a deathly shade of pale.
Lips so naturally red her kisses taste of red wine and at times red blood.

There were times to celebrate and times to come together.
Times to steal away and times to watch them **** while sharing our pop corn and whisky dressed soda.

How I loved her.

Guitar players write Poetry with guitar strings.
Prisoners engrave crude long lost lovers names in their flesh.

Count your lot then throw it away.
Nothing here is real and when they tell you it is just agree and walk away.

Choose your fate, we were all created.
Your cousin may be a monkey but mine is of the flesh of man.

I didn't know God until I figured out the lies and accepted it was flat.
And yet I still Dam all of your religions.
I probably won't be saved.

I started writing myself  little notes and some long letters around
the time the continents began to shift.

All I asked was for her to spell it.
I knew it would either change her life forever  or scare her into believing it wasn't true.

How much longer can the lies rule when the truth of things is nolonger deniable.

If there is no space and we are all there is why not open the gates and let us all live free.

I'll be the criminal who gave up all that lays beyond the ice.
A Shangrala where evil men have made the rules and our missing children are sent like cattle for the leaders to enjoy.

If I didn't stick to the Drink induced Poetry or the simple short stories talking about Love and Drugs.
I knew that they would eventually come for me.

My Allies be the pistol, the lighter,the mirror,the tin,the bottle of ***** and the broken girl who slept like a corpse curled up on the love seat.

I left the girl who left so long ago a note.
I started it with "I love you"and ended it with
" If they ever tell you I've gone mad know that I haven't.
I just got tired of fighting the lies and only dreaming of the truth..."

Men and even some Women meet in
over weight and over fragranced,
obnoxious groups.

All wearing the same colors like mutant
cheerleaders or
under achieving private school kids.

The food they eat is greasy and their conversation is
nothing but repeating what their
television screen had already told them .

Men argue over numbers and Women try to still
look cute while dressing in mens
athletic gear looking like fools
with their hair done.

The more Beer they drink the more
screaming they do at two
dimensional people
on a huge television screen
who can't hear them.

And they call this entertainment .
I call it insanity, the worst kind of sickness.
A sickness that no one's aware enough or awake enough,
to ever know they have.

Maybe its my thoughts wondering close
enough for her to feel me thinking of
those better days.

Its what's inside that attracts her.
Like a shark to bloodied water
or a gentle Moth to a deadly flame.

She knows when my heart goes
weak and my mind is preoccupied
with the visions of her when
we were both at our best.

I was the young fool who
fell head over heels in Love
with all of her.
Even the parts I knew were
bad.

That same beauty who still
finds the time throughout the years
to find her way back.

She stays only long enough to
be missed once she
leaves again for good.

Sat down and broke bread with the
men in long white lab coats
and the women with
their hair in high, tight buns.

She kept her spectacles on when
ever we made love.

High heels clacking against
shinny waxed marble floors.

Dare there be a sound more
romantic to my ears.

The rays fall from the sky
onto the sea of people below.
  They do what they are meant to do .
And they do nothing more.

Another world another life.
A million promises with
nothing to look forward to.

You live as you die the goal
is to avoid the rains and
stay looking beautiful
as you do it.

Have you realized
its the waters.
All that is beyond is
as so below.

A whale's song could be
heard for miles.
An ocean wave can
stretch across our world.

Water forms in everything
it fills the glass,
cools the drink, it grows the
Hemp and the Pumpkin Squash.
It cleanses the soul while
hiding the  Gods.

Ever wonder why the sky is blue.
Why the rains are so sacred
and why the sky is blue.

It could take your breath
and give you life.

The rains that fall
are the heavy laden tears
of the dead and drowning .

With so many lies
and so much deceit.

I began to question
this thing called truth.

This glorious thing
that so many have
been deprived of.

The lies have ruled for
so long now most know
no other way.

The truth has become
what so many refuse
to believe in.

The last I heard
she was headed across
the desert
to a waiting job and
new found friends.

She stopped calling
when I suggested
she came back home.

Turns out she was
lost with
no real friends and
a monkey on her back.

Alone the way she
wanted it to be.

Dancing under the
neon lights
for the lonely men.

Somewhere in the
City of Sin.

Its all in the experience.
From the flower  petals
a child tosses before a bride,
to the rain water the ****** used
to get himself well again.

The Pills you thought
were good for you.
And the woman who took
all she could from you.

It makes up the hours
you spent locked away.
And those Golden days
when you had
her and she needed you.

Set here upon the Earth
to wonder, to grow.
To believe in the lies while
only dreaming of the truth.

Men as leaders set
forth the course
to keep the lies as truth
and the world as round.

Reach that age of understanding
survived their Wars
and their Drugs.
Just to be cast
aside for believing
in the truth.

Fell hard and lingered
at the bottom.
Picked up a book
and buried a friend.
Took the time to add it
all to my experience.

Watch me as
I grow.

The only way for recreation
is by spending more time
on  recreation .
Do what it is
that makes your
heart happy.

Beneath the shade of
the swaying Palm Fronds
I block out the cities worth
of screaming sirens.
And take the time to add it all
to this.
Whats left of  my Experience.

From the heavens
come the
waters.

Where from
does the
waters come?

I once saved the world
on a grey and gloomy day in October.

I allowed the endless rains
to drown out what had become
of the people.

I watched as their altered bodies
vanished like stones beneath the sea.

I filled my Barge with a pair of Quetzl Hummingbirds,
two shy Monkeys, a family of Wild Mustangs and two of the last Dragons on Earth.

I brought along the Mountain Poppy to help me forget.
Marigolds for the Dead, White Mountain Sage for Blessings and the strong magical Hemp plant for more than just ropes.
Pockets full of Maize kernels and Squash seeds for starting over

As many devoted Honeybees as their Queen would allow.
Tiny fruit Bats and a pair of loyal Patterdales.
Feral Cats who trusted me and plenty of stow away Rodents who would spend their time aboard in hiding.
Cattle and Geese, Spiders and talking Parrots all made their way aboard.

I talked a Native Girl whose blood ran the same shade as my own into joining me.

I left behind the destructive ones and convinced myself it was all for the better of our future.

We waited out the second cleansing of the Earth, we passed the time forgetting what it was we had become.
We witnessed the New Sun circle above the New Earth and followed the Albatross to what was to be our home.
Our bare brown feet sunk into the pristine white sands as she took my hand leading me forward to a place no man has ever been.

We took in what was left for us to live with.
We for the first time felt what it was we had forgot.

I watched as a Quetzal Hummingbird flit before a strange Orange flower then onto the next.
The Monkeys gorged themselves in the fruit trees ,dropping seed pits to the forest floor.
The feral cats chased the rodents and the honey bees flew in a tight swarm while protecting their Queen.

Our goal was to forget it all and begin anew.
All we thought we knew was to be forgotten.

All was as it should be.
All moved about as one.

It isn't easy.
Once you've grown
wise enough to realize
that the little ones are the only good humanbeings .
Your back is already worn out like
well read paper back.
And your heart ,your hearts
been hardened by too many cigarettes and too many
pretty faces who always came and  went a bit too soon.

You got to hit your rhythm right before you reach the apex .
Then Like that first time we tried DMT
just sit back and enjoy the ride.

You gotta barrel through it all .
The burdens of society.
The addictions
The struggle between what you
want to do and what makes you
enough to keep her happy.

We're cursed with such a narrow perspective.
Unlike the bare butterfly who
lives out their time in all Realities.

If you dont listen to Frusciante
you might not understand me today.

Learn how to survive with the least
amount of your abilities
and call this progress.

Decay always begins once growth ends.
And there ll be plenty of dreams to **** tomorrow .

Just like everyone else this one
had its share of glimmering days and
moon kissed nights.

Some of them have even lasted longer
than a dream or a thought.

Its not as dark as it sounds.

Its the idea of it all.
Its the obsession with the need
to be satisfied that causes
the bleakest of times
to outshine all the others.

The lengths some go through
in order to lasso a smile .
The twisted faces made at babies.
The foolish voice that brings a grin.
All of it just to fill that cup
of neediness even when it overflows
with the material things that
shape our world.

One must spend some time in the nothing
with nothing at all to truly
see the greatness in the briefest of moments.

The simplicity of the ocean breeze slicing
through the palm fronds.
That triumphant smile on her tired
face as the point draws red.
The tear that escapes the man
who is once again a free man.

There's that moment that never lasts longer than an instant.
That is what you need to live through to come to this.
To see what this one sees.
And to recognize what it truly is to be happy.

Trudging onward
with my sorrows
in tow.

Pursued by these
burdens that won't
let me go.

On the brightest
of days their presence
is known.

They hide in
my shadows,
I'm never alone.

Skipping ahead
like a child at play.

Attempting to flee
if just for one day.

There's hope for
tomorrow perhaps
a new start.

There's never
an ending to things
of the heart.

It's the way it is.

You're born here.

You live here.

You long for it when
you're away.

And one day
you'll die here.

That's what home is to me.

Another day invaded my space in the form of
warm sun rays burning through
my resin stained curtains.

Outside the city awakes town
by concrete laden town until the
whole of the city all hums as one.

Along the edge of the world the Pacific
sits as calm and still as that thick brown
layer of pollution above our heads.

The smell of baked bread makes its way up
the graffiti dressed alley ways and past the
cheap pill box apartment buildings.

The boiling pots of crab send a unseen
signal all throughout this Port side Gem of a town.

The air is once again filled with
diesel and unleaded gas fumes
as the mass grows larger high above our heads.

Someone forgot to separate the
waters from the waters.
Again rain falls as hail somewhere
in the opened sea.

Men and their machines chew up the
highways in both directions.

Some cursing into the wind and others
singing along with some God awful country song.

Cities aren't made to last forever
even Rome had to die in order to be.

I could turn my back on them all and
not miss a beat.

It's the city itself
The city full of Lost Angels, Has Beens, ******
and Godless Gangsters
that won't let me go.

I doubled up my wake up
just to clear the cob webs away.
Attempted to numb my mind
before it had a chance to
start thinking again.

Waited for the *****
to come before
I brushed my teeth.
What I gave up was
clear mostly air
with a trace of
Orange juice and
stale Bar Peanuts.

I felt less as I
pressed my only good shirt
with too much steam
and not enough starch.

I keep remembering the
last time we talked
but can't seem to
recall how it ended.

I can't help but
be angry.
No saying good bye.
No invite.
No real reason why.

We're all on own when
it comes to our Demons.
There's no second chance
when you play with the
Serpents.

The pain is from knowing
I'm now much more alone.

The tears I released were
those of true sorrow.

You won't see them again.
I cry only once for a friend.

They say only
the Good Die
young.


And the rest
are just
survivors.

Fill their tunnels before
they fill our streets
with blood.

They're hiding
God outside
the dome.

I don't feel
the need
to travel far
from
my home.

Nothing is
Truth.
Until you've
accepted
the fact that
its all
been a Lie.

Please
Wake Up.

There is nothing
Of this earth.
Nothing more
Important.
Nothing more
meaningful.

Than what we
Create with no
Outside influence .

The Gifts we share.
The Arts.

What they've done is absolutely genius they've purposely filled our minds with things that are beyond belief.

They've made things that in their world are everyday ,common events. But to us exist only in fantasy movies and horror books.
Things like magic and ritual.
Other worlds or maybe just another part of this world we've been kept from since the beginning.

When they die they simply fall out of our fixed point of view and move on to live out their days in their own version of heaven on earth.

Its such a great lie and our minds have been so greatly deprived of all of what this world has to offer.
That even if the lies were to be exposed the people the true victims of this lie wouldn't and couldn't bring themselves to believe that everything they thought they knew were nothing but deception draped in deep dark lies  .
All to preserve that other here that we are not allowed to see.
And our minds have been made unable to believe in.

Who are we
to look to
once they've
killed our
Major Tom.