being made physically and mentally ill
by the excuses of my fellow country-people
so many prescription placeboes
psychoanalyst *******
and million$ on useless therapy….
and for what?
I get it:
you were molested
parents sold your *** to the neighbors
**** in the baby bottle
there are reasons folks suffer
but not every stress is a reason to medicate
sometimes the struggle and it’s lessons
are the reason for the experience
or has American society forgotten that tidbit?
So many wannabe doctors
telling friends and loved ones
that they are dealing with PTSD and ADHD
sprinkled with STD’s
in reality,
humans have always experienced stress
our ability to recognize it
and conceive of alternative ways of being
is likely the hub to our evolutionary journey
now what?
Fat, lazy, pill-popping excuse monsters
on every corner
on every channel,
the new norm….
maybe I need a pill to deal with these ******* –

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…
mean dogs barking brightly
vertical tails give false messages
as faces are what they love to eat best –
mange ridden feline aids victim
one eye and broken teeth
missing fur patch
shows damaged skin
all that remains from the barn fire of ’96 –
stained overalls with a blown out crotch
hang, damp, over peeling and faded porch railings
one rusty nail working its way free
tip coated with skin residue and 3 blue denim strings
flies buzz absentmindedly –
from afar the high threatened clucking
of the last layer hen
moving across the dusty driveway
seems the weasels have gained coup access
soon, just a mass of bloodied feathers
and the foul stench of fowl blood
cooking in the early Fall
will be all that lives within –
wind gusts pick up unfastened composition shingles
sending them sailing through the air
landing gently in an overgrown garden area
free from weeding, seedlings, tending
or love –

attempting to create new sensibilities
out of senseless acts
since I am the only one
that can make any sense out of this –
the science is not of schematics
or semantically stimulating
simply put, it is standard symbolism
and silly statements…
pseudo at best –
single simpleton’s seemingly stand-out
stretched and screaming in the sunshine
staring into space,
subliminal messages shouted in stereo –
setting on a striation sofa, I sing
sublimely, and softly
as a siren in the seas of yesteryear
scooping starfish from my superior seat,
I stand in amazement
as subtle shark fins act as a scalpel
slicing the oceanic soup –

irritated energy
as unwelcomed questions
surface, and show themselves in public…
not one to have my character questioned
regarding key personality components
I freak out and threaten
to quit
to leave
to scream indignantly,
but to **** it up and accept
quietly do better,
that would be something special –
red faced hate machine
bent on self-destruction
and starting over
doesn’t care about the opinions of others
disregards constructive criticism
knows better than you,
and is the best in is field –
it is not the easiest thing to admit
when one has been in the wrong
to openly take attitude
and stand tall in the face of
hostile undermining…
this,
is something I will have to work on –

crystal clear pools of blue, gazing
caught in the vision as if mouse to glue
reality becomes hazy
memorized, I know not what I can do

breathlessly stammering, I try
to express desires deep in my heart
completely enthralled, I just sigh
wishing instantly that we would not part

feeling this way seems too crazy
selfishness gives way to concern for her
walking through my life in a daze
only really knowing one thing for sure

those eyes make me sing, lips, I fly
effortlessly soaring though skies so clear
without her love, I might just die
this thought, to my eye, brings a single tear

summer meadow, perfect daisy
contented kitten expressing through purr
moving stream tranquil and lazy
all of these things just remind me of her –

distant loon cries sullen
voice carrying through the mist
dawn breaking in the warm valley
as the quiet of night gives way –
barely audible cooing
travels the entire length of the campground
as weary and barely rested travelers yawn and stretch
nature giving them the alarm siren
while also placing on faces, smiles and contentment –
three long low whistles
signify the time for feeding has arrived
as delicate legs
poke gently into the soft mud
‘S’ curved neck ready to strike
any unsuspecting fish that may be stirred
from its resting place
by those same long loon legs –
perched with a perch
the majestic dinosaur stands tall above its prey
feathers, soft shades of blue and grey
hide the heart of a killer
bent on feeding its dear sweet babies
for one more day –

washed-up has-been
rummaging through yesteryears
moth-balled memorabilia
catches a momentary reflection
in a cracked and stained mirror –
wrinkled cheekbones and saggy jowls
encircle puffy eyes,
red from lack of peaceful sleep
chapped lips
and hanging skin particles
look back, sadly –
beyond the mirror
and the defeated image
the sun shines
on an open lot
filled with boys and bats
all dreaming of a time
in which they can be famous. –

sagebrush and juniper
with the occasional tiny yellow blossom
sprout without fear
in the drought stricken desert
touting new growth despite
the Sun’s best efforts
and the total lack of precipitation –
granules of wind-blown granite mountains
give way underfoot
leaving misshapen footprints
near faded remnants
of an old rattlesnake shed
strewn delicately over
last year’s deer tracks
preserved in a landscape
that exists outside of mankind’s time –
Did Louis Lamoure ride though here?
Was this a secret cowboy stomping ground?
Off in the distance comes a noise though the underbrush
slow and methodical
meandering
one lone cow steps into the sunlight
as we lock eyes
the buzzing of insects fades
I lose track of the surrounding foliage
and consider,
“What a cud he must chew!”

insanity reigns
as aborted fetuses
are sold to secret labs
for cell experimentation –
fore-runners from the right
cry out into the darkness
screaming profanities
at poor would be mothers –
politicized uteruses
stand at the precipice
of human rights activists
endless need for debate –
all laws are applied to bodies
all bodies are under the yoke
of both local or state
and federal governmental whim –
frenzied followers puffed up faces
holler about the unborn
desiring every fertilized egg
to be another slave to Capitalism –
**** victims cower  and
pregnant sufferers of ******
rock gently back and forth on the cold floor
holding bellies tight with both arms
tears running freely down sad and lonely faces
somewhere in Louisiana …
option less, they birth unwanted children
abuse and neglect them
beat and mistreat
spawn of filth
like good little constituents –

setting, delicately on the ten foot
two by six
scooting gingerly as to encourage
no splinters
clad in both sparkly regalia  
and plain jeans
the inebriated fairgoer glanced
through half-lids
swaying while speaking, reeking of whiskey
lips moved quiet
inaudible outside of guttural
groans and grunts
we all sat watching, both in awe and shock
the strange man
so overloaded on psilocybin
could just be
and we, so high on the marijuana,
only laughed –

dirt and dust
encircling a sea
painted ******* and wooden masks
stand out
and instantly fade
as the slow march around the eight
fills the sunny weekend –
fifteen stages from spoken word to belly dancing
dubsteppers mingle with dead heads
and the mushrooms flow
like wine –
It’s been seven years since the hippies
proved to me capitalism is the greatest sin
and yet I find myself drawn back
pulled by familial remembrances
and the overwhelming feeling
of being welcomed home –
This year marks the beginning, again
third times the charm…
of my acquaintanceship and relation too
the Oregon Country Fair
and when I close my eyes
and tell myself the truth,
I am excited and happy
to be going back home. –

If one has dark skin and is light on the inside
they might be referred to as a coconut.
This is but one example
of how, we as humans,
categorize and generalize
our fellow man…
What is it when you are born white,
raised by SoCal junked-out hippies
(not the flower crowd)
who told everyone during your formative years
if we never discuss politics
or religion
we can be friends……
I was left with my maternal grandparents on some weekends
by these heathens
who happened to be devout
Protestants.
I sat very quietly,
hands folded in my lap
and listened to stories from the bible
and thought to myself
and the tender age of five
“Why doesn’t this god love me?”
“What did I do to Jesus to be forsaken?”
“I am just a child!”
anger followed………
Today, I find myself drawn to a dream
a paternal grandfather
born on a New Mexico reservation
that is completely abandoned
by any living relation,
leaving me to desire connection
to the greatest family mystery
for the Temple clan…….
No amount of reading text
or researching tribal life
can ever gift me
a relationship with an elder,
nothing I can do
will ever make me a part of that culture
and with this complexion,
I may not even be accepted
if I were to try and ask questions……..
this is me, building my own spirituality
with broken pieces
of family history –

circular ideas
of a great hoop of humanity
no beginning
no end
an eternal thread
containing everything
endlessly encompassing
all –
seeking answers from the four directions
asking the east for understanding
the west for compassion
looking to the north for consideration
and south for peace
feeling the earth between my toes
and surrounded by the atmosphere
I become part of the
all –
media hype and monetary squabbles
dissipate
as new visions distort reality
finding myself encased in love
and hopeful for a future
the cynic within my recoils
simultaneously, a long lost
child
steps into the spotlight
fresh and new
giving me permission to let go
and fall into the
all –
New dawn breaks on old habits
trying to bury myself in social media
and negative propaganda
I can no longer relate
I find myself unable to care
….harmony bubbles within
and I can’t help but smile
at my perception
of the
all –

Not since the days
of shooting ******
into the artery in my armpit
(too many blown out veins
in my arms and feet),
have I spent multiple nights
pacing and sweating…..
******* simple carbohydrates. –
In the first months
of being a non-cigarette smoker
I would see folks light up
and near instantly collect
a chilled film on my back
and fingernails…
forget about it;
but the other day I drove
by a pizzeria
and had thoughts of ski masks
and 45 caliber pistols…
******* simple carbohydrates. –
Once upon a time
I drank near 200 ounces of
Mountain Dew
each and every day.
If I missed a day,
I would have massive headaches
combined with serious irritation;
while it has been more than 5 years
since this body ingested caffeine,
last night I could not fall asleep for anything
and no amount of cannabis oil
or ibuprofen
had the ability to curb
my aching noggin….
******* simple carbohydrates –
change is the only constant
and humanity has evolved
amazing adaptability
while I know I will be fine
at this moment only one thing
really runs through my head:
******* simple carbohydrates! –

darting eyes seek recognition
as strange color patterns
give the sky an eerie green glow
what should be cloud bodies
look more like 3rd grade
geometry projects –
noiseless ground squishes underfoot
resembling a velvet trampoline
with crystalline structures jutting up
lacking gravity, they start small
then expand and branch out
looking like manicured Arborvitae’s
flipped upside down,
planted,
and painted with black glitter –
a low meandering whistle
travels near my ear canal
causing a Pavlovian right turn
strained neck muscles bring attention
to the fact I have been motionlessly staring
for what seems an eternity…
in an instant I see something
through the atmosphere;
an oddly familiar object
of the slightest faintest blue –
My eyes snap open
and the clock reads 2:57 a.m.
again
….am I being abducted? –

experientially suffering
watching my contemporaries
trade freedom for fear
I feel lost in confusion –
Those who stood with me
as we occupied Portland and Salem
now shun the rights
of their countrymen
by promoting the removal of a flag –
The moment we, as a nation,
decide certain symbols
hold so much power that they
must not be allowed in the public arena
we are no longer democratic,
free,
or upholding the notions presented
by those wig-wearing forefathers –
It is only by the defense of our most offensive members
that we can truly understand
Freedom of Speech;
Americans must be allowed to be
racist bigots
in order for the rest of us
to have the freedoms we so hold dear…
the **** must be allowed to gather
Neo-****’s must be allowed to parade
as, then, and only then,
will I be allowed
to maintain my own special brand
of insane propaganda –

Were I to have a queen,
I would adorn her
lavishly,
South African Diamonds
littered with Brazilian Emerald
and Oriental Topaz,
but I don’t, so I give her
onyx and garnets –
Were I to have a queen
She would dine, exquisitely
Caviar and Champaign
Filet Mignon with delicate wild sprigs
Hand-crafted sorbets sprinkled with fresh ground cocoa
but that is not the case,
so we eat frozen burritos and fruity pebbles –
Were I to have a queen
her fines would be worldly
Chinese silks and English cobbled shoes
flowing lace with ruffled fringe
cotton and satin depending on conditions
but I am just a regular guy
and offer flannel and polyester blends –
Were I to have a queen
she would never want for attention
I would constantly remind her of her beauty and grace
express endlessly my undying love and adoration
offer my hand at each puddle and open every door
but I do not have a queen,
I have a wife that I treat this way –

Fishnet impressions
cut into the wall paint
as passing car headlamps
momentarily shine across
conversational window treatments.
Shadow imaginations playfully dance.
Half-lidded eyes capture slight movement
and a barely coherent consciousness
begins to develop scenarios.
First, subtle impressions of cats of sills
and tree branches scrapping across tempered glass…
but then, a more sinister feeling takes hold
an encroaching doom and impending dread
fills nearly sleeping veins.
Trapped in stasis, hovering,
knowing sounds have meaning
but totally lacking any muscle control…
fear takes charge
and paranoia settles in for the night.
Certain that each creaking board
is a maniacal killer
bent on committing a random
and horrific ******,
sweat beads on a forehead
desperate for the ability to
hide under a sheet.
Compressor switching on
as the refrigerator activiates
sends new visions of forcible theft
and gang **** swirling.
Mental images of criminals
in ski masks
penetrating the spouse
and laughing
carry a restless mind
quietly back to sleep,
as the low, dull hum of
the hot water heater
gives the house peace for the night.

I couldn’t do for my mother what I did for my dog
By Samuel L Temple

Trip One
The phone rang soft, as it is want to do
answering it I found the quiet voice
of my dear mother. It was November
and a chill not only filled the air, but
also my very being shook with the new
information I was being given.
2013, yet another way
for me to hate Thanksgiving had begun.
It was only a few days after we
discovered my old lab had cancer too.

Falling to my knees I wept, but only
for a moment, I realized my wife
and I had already been researching
a cure. A brand new life was unfolding.
We had both the material and the
know-how to produce a new cancer cure.
His name was Rick Simpson and he was our
hero. Youtube and websites gave the news
and we watched eager and with bated breath.

Being an outdoor grower gives one the
access needed to produce large amounts,
being part of a co-op gave me the
ability to outsource all my needs.
A plan was made by the skin of my teeth,
and we set out trying to save mother
from the scourge that kills indiscriminate.
At the same time our old black lab, Jimmy
was losing weight and growing foot tumors;
we were embarking on a two-front fight.

It was chilly that late Fall afternoon
As we loaded the old Nissan pick-up
And headed down south to California
We left meds for the dog with our sonny
and loaded pounds, sealed, into blue crates,
filled the tank and bought some food for the trip
and said a silent prayer as we began
this epic journey to save moms life.
The sun shone through the clouds and I felt warmth
…would be a while before I felt again.

It was over two full mountain passes
when the fuel filter popped, leaving us stuck,
in Medford…a little cash but no car
my dear Auntie was the call we made first
and she, as always, wanted to help us
so she wired some dollars and we got
ourselves a rental Avenger that day
the journey recommenced and South we went
stopping briefly by the Bay for a friend
who donated pounds to the cause at hand

For another thousand miles we rode
one arm stretched South, and the other behind
we avenger-ed our way to the badlands
near Goat mountain, butted against a base
we found a small white oasis of love
inside, a frail, sickly, cancerous mom
wrapped in a blanket all smiles and pain
my dear sweet mother extended her hand
skin draped skeleton with liver spots bright
and hazel eyes shining with love for me

Small talk subsided and so we began
to encourage mother to look beyond
fifteen years, Narcotics Anonymous
and all the kool-aid she could ever drink
had so corrupted her processes that
she was unsure about starting a new cure
I tentatively brought out the product
handed one gelatin capsule over
and I watched her swallow pure cannabis
extracted with grain alcohol en masse'

Pounds of marijuana stuffed into pills…
“More than one whole gram ingested daily
and don’t you ever, ever miss a dose
you think you must take chemotherapy
so please just smoke after the appointments
be sure to get so much rest and don’t stop
try to eat and be a little active,
but rest is key to healing…and mother
these instructions are not for fun, you see
I honestly believe this can cure you”

We visited through the weekend and left
heading up the interstate to Oregon
hopeful and tired, we held hands and talked
inconsequential nothings passed chapped lips
as both of us rode home deep in new thoughts
thinking back to the grey shade of her skin
and the light that still shown strong in her eyes
I began to feel a pride in what
we were trying to do, and for her faith
that my mother placed in me that cool day.

Trip Two

I sat at the edge of my bed, thinking
we were about to take a winter drive
I had rented a nice 2012
Chevy Malibu, but there was no beach
only the forethought of desert sand dunes
and the ole military base fence line
mom’s pet coyotes would be at the trough
and her beautiful pits would be lounging
all I could do was softly pray for her
whispering under my breathe, let me see.

In vast style and comfort we headed
south again. Stopping at the Bay, again
getting product from my friend, yes, again
and driving down the I-5, cruise control.
Fast food and the ever watchful radar
were the order of the trip as miles
disappeared and the ribbon of road crept
beneath tires stretched to infinity
soon the Tehachapi’s gave way to sand
rocky desert with Joshua tree stands

The coolness of early winter did blow
sending particulates and shivers down
the arms and legs of my wife as we sat.
Looking at the small white cottage, hoping.
She came to the door with twenty more pounds
and the smile I remembered from my youth
she spoke of lower counts and feeling good
and increased appetite and acceptance
fifteen years, narcotics anonymous
and finally she could see for herself.

Marijuana had more to offer than her
than just ‘high’ to hide from reality
it was medicine, possibly the best
the world could offer. It blends perfectly,
with the endocannabinoid system
boosting the body’s ability for
fighting off cancer and disease. And now
there was a real chance at saving her.
Tears were shed as we all hugged and smiled,
kisses and proclamations of success.

We packed slowly that morning, feeling worn
Fifteen hundred miles lay before us
With Monday work looming after a long
Sunday drive. It was in Barstow that I
decided I wanted to show Tina,
Reno… so we took the 395
north, the Serria-Nevada’s loomed large.
Working within the constraints of time, we
seemed to be right on schedule, Reno
by four, and at home eight hours later,
it was about that time I noticed the
snow level was getting closer each mile.

It was in the early evening when first
they came; little specks of snow, delicate.
Softly falling on my clean windshield
This moment matched the snow along the road
reached our car, a sinking feeling began.
We drove easily over the first pass
Just a shade over 7000 feet high,
the snow,  falling faster, I heard a sob.
Glancing over I saw my wife huddled,
face to the car door, crying quietly.

Creeping in like a child wanting one
More drink

Everyone rejoice!
Run out and get Gay Married today!
While you are out, sign up for universal health care
if the website is up and functioning…  
and you can navigate the page –
America is in an uproar
over new laws effecting the status quo
and yet
no one is discussing
a Republican house and senate
granting one of the most hated
democratic presidents ever
fast-track power
for the Pan-Pacific trade agreement
or the fact
that the Supreme court
just voted down
an EPA recommendation
to lower and eliminate Mercury emissions from industry –
But, Hay!
Don’t let that damper the parades
or stop people for one moment
from shaking a clinched fist
or frantically waving hands
at the leaders
of, by far,
the most insane nation on this
little blue rock –

edgy
semi-hostile;
opinionated *******
with mad skillz
and
no remorse –
I use the hate
the anger
find myself
satiated
by social unrest
and cultural rage…
a bully,
on a pulpit –
I have no consideration
for the feelings
of those scorned
skin thickens only after reddening
evolution and growth
rarely come pain free –
So many tears
flow freely down ***** streets
void of children’s laughter,
or simple sounds of midday traffic…
I sit on the corner
enjoying the un-comfortability
of a nation locked
in systematic racial injustice
and unease over whose **** goes were –
My **** roosts in a shabbily build coop
looking over a brood
producing eggs
that I will soon abort
and create a lovely omelet –

waves of heat rise
distorting the land beyond
no movement, but buzzing flies
hard, dry straw was once a lawn –
cotton blend, stained and soaked
sticks to a sweaty back
nothing satisfies, leastly a Coke
old man neighbor suffered a heart attack –
oppressor sun, beating down
scorching all of my green land
pooling excretion, enough in which to drown
puddles in the palm of my hand –
small children hide indoors
not willing to risk Summer fun
unable to find street-walking ******
as we all cook in the unrelenting sun –
forecast gives no peace or quarter
instead condemns us to another night of no sleep
saw someone fry an egg on construction mortar
and make cookies on the dashboard of a Jeep –
it is simply not the norm
to crest 100 degrees in the Oregon, June
why, even the sprinkler  failed to preform
cooler weather cannot come to soon –

promises of commitment
intertwined with feelings of compassion
idiosyncratic moments indelibly imprinted
as love between two humans is expressed
and allowed to flourish –
one ruling by an appointed court
opening judge’s doors’ across the country
giving freedoms to homosexuals
which should have never been in question
another example of the lie
that is “separation of church and state” –
millions of Americans cry out in unison
that God’s will has been wronged
while holy matrimony
uses the same language “Do you take this person”
when children marry stuffed animals –
in a day when twenty Bachelorettes
can battle for the hand of a stranger
on nationally syndicated television
how can people stand up
and argue based on a value system –
ethics, moral standards, belief systems…
these concepts are individually defined
if I think it is o.k. to have a tattoo
of Tom Selleck ******* Omar Gadhafi
that is my business
and it can’t really hurt you…only offend –
if you feel offended
by the Supreme Court decision
to allow the LBGT community marriage equality
I would argue
you have too much time on your hands –

matted hair on tobacco stained fingers
reaches through the six inches
of unrolled window
crumpling the ten dollar bill
I have extended
to somebodies family –
Driving out of the parking lot
I notice four others
in similar attire
all with shabbily crafted
cardboard signs
expressing “God’s love”
and “please help”
hundreds pass…
do they see? –
forgoing poison fast food,
I circle behind a corporate chain
and fish out of my wallet
a five and two ones
again, I roll my window down
and make eye contact
same ***** hand
same crumpled bills –
Struggling to make sense
of what I am witnessing
I look back at my now empty wallet
and rub a belly, slightly extended
and partially irritated by lack of food
and chuckle….
I really have it so good.

deep desire to change the game
shame the infamous
expose my
“not-quite-large-enough-for-****”
type, white man’s *******
‘cept
they no grow, only show
and I explode –
looking to cause a ruckus
hostilely point out short-comings
and be a general ‘bad-egg’
in a land of friendly faces
and helpful writers….
but this is not my life –
condescending *******
bent on trolling
and pushing my opinion
on the unsuspecting public
by being mean
in the comments section –
no desire to make fake friends
in a land of creative outlet
and liars,
all pining
for another heart or kind word…
absurd –
but I cannot
unleash this monster inside
deep down I do care
for my community of wannabe artists
of which I find myself
a part.

Her eyes,

deeper than any artesian well,

capture me

completely.

It was down on the farm,
24 little girls shinning
in the early summer sun. I stood
over their tiny green bodies
gently showering soft new growth.
A feeling began to swell, of pride,
as I was growing, again, the cure for cancer
in the field of a dear friend.
Holding the hose in one hand,
and the spray wand in the other
so as to not allow dragging
across these ever important bodies,
I look across the field of 87 and consider the varieties
the four of us have chosen
for grow 2015.
The Willamette Valley is warm
and my toes sink into lovingly treated soil,
organically fed, with an eye to long-term
sustainability, as the co-op recognizes
we are part of the land we love.
The slightest tinge of yellow catches my eye
perhaps the little Shishkaberry
needs Epson salts.

realist, with a degree in sociology
looking at the world through macro glasses
fading empathy blending with budding apathy
watching, eagerly, the self-destruction of the masses –
expressing limited worldviews, and exploiting generalizations
keeping a firm grip on perceived reality, teaching free classes  
operating from a place of conscious co-creativity
helping friends and loved ones experience piece of mind, free passes –
guiding meditations, past-life regression
all the while getting brilliant psychic flashes
reaching deep within the recesses
beginning to tilt on a totally different axis –
envisioning my place as part of the all
knowing the truth will alter the facets
looking into the mirror of creation
recognizing the forest of trees as ***** eye-lashes –

as in any artistic endeavor
we encounter those who would hate
no matter the level in which we are clever
everything seems to be taken as bait –
when I write, I am purging my emotions
within any given moment, day or night;
it is one of the few areas in which I experience “devotion”
and I don’t judge my work as ‘wrong’ or ‘right’ –
I consider myself something of an artist
and that realm works wholly with perception
never once have I made claim to be the smartest
while it is pretty clear, I have my own direction –
in short, if you don’t like my style of work
just pass it by, there are many types here
I see no reason to act like a ****-hurt ****
just because to you, my message is unclear –
So I will leave you for now, while you ponder this request
and perhaps you will think more than just once
for regardless of my writing, I live truly blessed
and your attacks make you come off as a dunce –

stabbing pain fills my abdomen
the sensation of a heavy rock dropping quickly
hits my bowel
sweat forms down the center of my back
and on my upper lip
the Christians have arrived
and I am sickened by the sight –
cross wearing hypocrites line the streets
holding signs of hate
in the name of Jesus
trying to pleasantly force a false belief system
on little children leaving schoolhouses
throwing rocks at **** victims
whose only crime is not wanting to carry a ******* to term
and bashing the lifestyle of homosexuals
like God gives a **** where people put their ***** –
blindly following aged stories written by drunkards
the sheep-like nature is an affront to me
I stand both horrified and in awe
watching people speak of doing unto others
and expressing that only the Lord judges
do they know how full of **** they seem? –
backing slowly away from the scene
I slip quietly back into the shadows
as long as my country holds true to the adage
that church and state are separated
these lunatics cannot control me
well….except the run the country –

viral and trending
as fifteen minutes has become a lifetime
and 45 seconds is more what it looks like
to be internet famous –
fat cats and mall rats in Spanx
sippling frozen latte’s
with 8 shots of circle K crack
violently Instagram-ing every moment
constantly trolling for the one big hit –
social media ***** bored with “likes”
looking to blog the best tweets
and Facebook with the losers
of last year’s season of
Celebrity Chef –

here is another one
mostly for fun
like a little cap gun, son
I
Hop on one foot
Like a muthafukkin bunny
I’m lucky, its sunny
But allergies got my nose all runny
The drum beat
Keeps my feet sweet
Light and neat
Homemade Halloween treat
Back to the street
See I’m rollin
In nothing stolen
Knee swollen
**** takes it’s toll , man
But I still jam
Like I am on a muthafukkin roll
I stroll
Into any place of business
Like I witnessed
Jehovah’s ******
Simply put, I’m the best
****** rapper in the
Pacific northwest
But that’s just a guess
I don’t get out a bunch –
Well I
Seem to play this game
Where I try to pick the brains
Of these criminally insane
Muthafukkas on my job plane
Don’t drink Champaign
But if I do its out a mason jar
Check out my appendix scar
I lied, still got mine
It’s like a shinning star
Brown dwarf, cant see it from afar
But it will destroy the par
Leave golfers in their little cart
At the speedie mart
Riding on the BART
Did you just ****?
I get silly still
Its these badass pills
Cause all kinds of thrills
Homeboy, can we just chill? –

each day brings more frightening imagery
compounding hate and bigotry, free press
humanity cannot survive under such duress
the wall writings tell a simple tale needing to be heeded
there is no winning a race war on American soil –
blacks attacked will eventually fight back
and tear down any vestige of the status quo
leaving those of us with fair pigmentation
to bake and rot in the late summer sun
this, of course, barely placates the new power –
too far gone down paths of racial injustice
has America travelled to tout itself as the land of the free
from mistreated natives, land stolen and treaties broken
the poor Japanese citizens placed in concentration camps
more than two-hundred fifty years of my country
abusing, cheating, prostituting, and disenfranchising
the men and women who built the nation that hates them –
I find myself with a growing concern regarding our direction
daily, news outlets give fuel to the most dangerous of fires
working with super-human diligence and verve
they impart violent propaganda to impressionable children
babies with access to bullets, beaten, battered, and beneath
the lines of poverty so prevalent within this culture –
I sit at a dinosaur click-clacking away
behind the glass patrician, inmates of every walk
all quietly working, pencil to paper
fourteen testers with no common heritage
working together for the goal of their education
it is here, in the penitentiary, I see what hope looks like –