lying supine in my bed
rhythm stealing my thoughts
we are alone in a dark house
neither of us can sleep
water finding it's way
via my bathroom sink
to the sea
a small child returning home
force of nature tamed
to one drop at a time
and I can't help thinking
of waves crashing on a beach

a reuleaux triangle attached to the ball
the curved aluminum clunk on the heel
with one stomp, i give my power to you

silencing my screams, you yell for me
with every brush and scuff, you sing a song
of an endless symphony

yet, when naked, you move like an animal
a quick pounce, your point sharp,
taking flight, soaring
like a bird turning
from snake to angel back
to a wildebeest hitting the marley-floor
with nothing but a soft patter
your energy escaping back
into the earth ready
for your next adventure

Here is just another thought
Going down the stream,
Just another thought.

Leaking from a tap
With the label "purity"
Just another trap

　　The obsessive mind gullibly bites the lure,
　　Obscured by clouds connections,
　　Concealing the large picture.

　　　　How every blast creates a reaction!
　　　　Panic attacks to draw the attention.
　　　　Where’s the crack in the grand ****’s wall,
　　　　So we can strike down the reservoir?

Diverting the river that must belong to all
Before our eyes - wider worlds shrinking small;
Cradled by the uniformity of lies that appease,
Those grazing in the dunes still tarry at ease.

It’s no wonder!

Insecurity has grown into a most lucrative market
As danger becomes the currency on which to place the bet;
Release the flow from the control that profits hold fast,
Question the junk food that's become the pasture of our mass.

　　Continuous diversions
　　Feeding everyone’s greed
　　Fulfilling false concerns -
　　So easily believed!

　　　　How every blast creates a reaction!
　　　　Panic attacks to draw the attention.
　　　　Will the facts in knowledge’s downfall
　　　　Let us unshackle the repertoire?

A Nigerian told me I need to have more ***,
Tap tap wedding ring on a
Plastic dashboard.

Dreaming Graceland or Zombie Land: Double Tap


When you think Elvis was a fraud,
a rip off the black man’s voice;

when you finally meet someone
who smells like candles
instead of gunpowder and whiskey;

who is comfortable with you
driving that pink Cadillac
all the way to Memphis;

who won’t
throw your pink stuff
to the side of the road;

who will kiss you
and hold your hand

until you arrive at Graceland
and try on those blue suede shoes
that actually fit;

let you gyrate your hips,
and for one moment,
feel like the King;

until you open your eyes
and really, really see
that you’re  in Zombieland.