I’m pretty sure there is no more alcohol in this house, I drank it dry, but I got plans to refill the coffers of the estate in a distant land some call the future when I am old, too old to do much but write checks, sign forms, ride on spaceships of my own design, my making, a phsy phi movie, with the masters, with Nash and Sendak, with Moratta and the Spells, with Shug Knight and his dynamite, with Tu Pac the moment that last bullet struck gold ...

The boundaries of who you are, how you act, start slipping away ever so slowly.  At first you just think you are in a better mood, and maybe that’s all you are.

Did I know I was in a manic episode?  How could I not know?  How could I not look for help instead of whatever insanity I let myself travel towards? How how how .... do I sound like an Indian? Does that question offend you?

Just me in the car. It had been just me for days.  Reaching out to social media occasionally to wave my crazy flag.

My stomach felt like water was boiling inside it.  Angry butterflies that would not stop their painful flutter.  The fear, the agitation, anxiety I usually call it, but its more like being perpetually ...

Sometimes I realize that my personality is basically the jail house ***** of perpetual introspection

Self involvement is probably more accurate. Introspection is the dumb self grasping at explanations of evolving memories as they pile up always too fast, always out of reach, always always always then you just ******* die one day.

And that's it isn't it. Whatever else happens that will be my story.

We can never understand what it is because it keeps changing them we all eventually die and that's it.

It's pretty ******* terrifying.


It will make you hide things.

Wishing for a better past is futile
self-torture
a form of the ultimate folly:
feeling sorry for yourself.
It makes you feel pathetic.
Especially if you actually are pathetic.
If your life is a failure of your own making
In cooperation with a mental illness
Which is making me feel so sad and pathetic
I can think of little else but how pathetic I am

But my present seems futile.
There is not much in my reality that is hopeful even when I’m in a better mood.
In short, my life seems hopeless.
I don’t have a job, or a mate, and I’m not likely to find either one any time soon.
I have barely any work experience
I’m 36 years old.  
I live with my parents.
I have a bad case of bipolar disorder and a bad case of ADHD and I know that makes it unlikely I will ever be able to succeed at anything.  Of course one of the illnesses might be right now telling me things are worse than they seem.

I am suicidal but afraid to **** myself.  I wonder if I’ll ever find the desperation or the courage.  As I get older my situation seems worse and worse.  I cant seem to get myself to act to change it.  I can’t ACT.  I can’t DO.  How is this possible?  how am I like this?  How? How? How?

Writing something seems like some kind of action.
Something productive, in theory.
This is what I come up with.
Bad poetry.
Worse than usual.

Just try to write something anything
feel the keys bounce
remember what its like to say something
taste it
let it flow
let it go
what?
what can’t I let go?
what blocks?
just bounce bounce bounce
no one will read this but I need to find that hidden somber knowing inner voice
no matter how fake it is
etch it out
send it out
to the world
let it fly

There has to be something to say hasn’t there?
Write about a manic episode … how to begin? What moment to draw out?

Gotta try not o ******* all day tomorrow
Gotta try
can’t promise anything
this is who I am
I hate myself, of course
how could I not

And on and on and on
Just writing anything
writing “writing”
like Jack Nicholson in The Shining
Jack is a dull boy
Jack is a dull boy
Jack is a dull boy
God help me
but he won’t
of course not
this is a warm fuzzy version of hell
not that bad
except the self-loathing
oh God why me the self-pity
typing typing typing
It would not surprise me
if I never really wrote anything
just a total loser
jerking off all day
not working
living with my parents
watching teenagers **** on the internet
why am I like this?
How can I change myself?
I want to change myself
I really do
God help me
but he won’t
just on and on
nothing gets done
I am nothing
I want to **** myself
but I don’t have the guts
I want to die
I want to die
I say it all the time its mostly about the shame of who I am I can’t stand it it goes on and on

everything bad starts out innocently enough
rock before the roll
this is not writing I can’t write
am I just too ******?
would I write anything sober?
I live my life in a hell not quite of my making
I want to die I want to die I want to die
I want to live I want to live I want to live
type type type
****!!!!!!!
this can’t be my life
I say that over and over to myself
because it is in a way hard to believe
but here it is
at least I’m typing typing typing
simple thoughts like
I don’t like my ******* life
maybe If I could just accept it the pain would dwindle
the loathing would subside
but how can I accept this ****
at least I’m typing typing
too ******
****** dumb
too dumb to think of anything worth writing
just a self hat clusterfuck
of a brain
I want to finally die of shame
mercy please

But he hijacks your mind, you see -
you start thinking
in pithy vignettes
and seeing ancient injustice
in a drunkard's bloodshot eyes

The universal
in the particular -
God, aye! Sheep
as avatars
for all society
and majesty in language
as it's spoken, and heard.

Then you imagine him
hiding other poets' books
behind his own
in Waterstone's in Dumfries,
and remember -
he's as human as you,
thank ****.

two hustlers in the music scene

**** life & the means to swing

rap in the way it used to be

making sweet magic & history



gone are the days we used to wake up in a purple haze

kissing second cousin falling in a daze

like a mouse that's stuck in a maze

shattered dreams things don't seem what they mean



stick a fork in me cause I'm done

soon I'll be off to run

as a young homeboy in the hood

busting sweet rhymes like I knew he should



wouldn't care in what they said or did

busting out with a cherry bomb under a garbage van lid

***** ain't nothing but meat on the bone

I'll **** it, I'll **** it, I'll leave it alone



Sound the alarm cause I'm out shooting blanks

Two hoods in the hip hop scene

producer Shug Knight can get awful mean

Falling head long at the seams



Living in the land of mean

The freaks come out at night out of sight

Riding in there Benz popping on Depends

shattered dreams evil schemes things don't seem what they mean



See you on the flip side squeeze

I'm going to pray to God it will knock you to your knees

The bees sugar is honey and honey is sweet

I got these cool rhymes buzzing from my head down to my feet



Biggie & Tu may have bitten off far more then they could chew

Nothing knew both had high top mansions

Silver dollars with no ransom

They both had left a legacy



See the new movie out going down in history

R.I.P. my friends see you in heaven looking down

For now I'll still listen to your tracks with no frown

Tupac Shakur in my opinion was the greatest poet of our time,
nursed from his calling a real rap star...
He left our world far too soon yet he is never forgotten
he lives in the hearts of his adoring fans

to sleep to dream through steel unawares
the chosen vessel pressed through the ****** of time
a vestibule toward a couple left long ago
barbed wire fences latent refusal of meager defenses
there's glory  in the escape

hearken the minutes the hours set in tone
embrace the water gone alone,
in certain begotten place we may steal
take a look at the twilight upon the hill
there tormented cause to regain
an instant tight injury minus the flame

embark on a revolution so very plain
mark the man willing to explore
the plains of the dunes on the Cape rejoice
laughter the panther rest its nearly gruesome head

blood forsaken blood the chamber torn to death
deep onto deep the pages have turned
you are the final nail until my coffin
look long in the garden Johnny Rotten

nature knows what's embraced every single day
crushed cement with a red rose
stand the flight of pain
Tupac's final flame

heavy is the light left to St. Peter gone in flight,
Tupac witness to, "Keep Your Head Up"....
march of the wooden soldiers
rap invades first into the intellectual embraces the day

with words given into a sought after hemp learn to relax
The Smurf's and Strawberry short cake kids
in the company of the cabbage patch kids
boil royal thirst is done,

memories of the coast that screams
fry doe and everyone screams
in the company of a heightened remedy
boxed in the light of eggs and potatoes

Momma dearest momma show forth your flame
into eager desire was Tupac's drill
meet the marching orders from a blast from the past
Shug got his in prison with a good reason

Tupac was my hero so here we go

crack pipe out on the street
old man peeing off to side
condoms in war zones we call schools
the righteous get torn by the wicked
a woman in need
shapes dreams from her hair my pretty child
choose the day the night is far too spent
creatures lurk for a new fix
cops in cars the local bars
never saw a woman so alone

yet in the distance their stands a God who knows
bust up the beat to increase it's tempo
eyes, hands & face
best to live life by faith
we have come this far not to turn back now
can't turn around when your hands on the plow
children crying so alarming
an old woman sips on her cherry wine
blue jeans with a caress for the test
radiate a circus clown smile

still to know all the great while in the ghetto
their are faces you should know
no mere shoulder to cry
a valiant passerby
the taste of fumes coming from the blast
no one get by on any free pass
at a glance Chinese men struggle to mix words,
the weightless cavity of bargian basement pews
still without a clue
their are shadows that block the vortex

a wanderer exposes himself
couples run in the night naked to peak
the quiet breeze beneath the leaves
a fight breaks out over a spilled glass of ***** and tonic
trying to reclaim the logic have you forgotten
Ben Laden with the twin towers coming down
not another Justin Beiber song,
I think I'll pack it in buy a pick up head out to L.A.
find a places to call my own make a brand new day
reflections
Kanye West, Shug Knight & Snoop
loose lips sinks ships take some time to move those hips

Trump in his ivory tower
little fat boy from North Korea
o.k. it's getting deeper
no more Pop Rocks just plain Veggie sticks so get a grip
the orientation of new hustlers pimping their ride
it's justice for all in a know it all society
something is blinding them
running to & fro

see through the rook chip through the glue
under the concrete one sprang a leak
battered bridges that spicy clock
drew a map through haunted leaves,

a sip or two from red tarnish apple
fly back from Seattle
life is but a gamble
the nod of the silver screen

bows death yet in one accord
lazy diamond studded flunky
coffee is good at certain dunkin
deep through the isle of no domain

my mind wanders in case the distance
like a lightning rod to view for reference
pierce the skin to one that hides
holding hands by which to obey

laying on fig leaves,
contest featuring the make believe
we tumble for you
a yard to treasure
magnified by weather
return its favor

to gain Pac in your thinking
what were those ladies thinking
warm sock pull of the purse
Manhattan's sound to rehearse

East Coast West coast sound
avoid its magic wand
Shug died in prison
be brave to a lonely soul

out late at night to a rap beat drill
drug pushers what do they know
try to stay inside of ya
rap is cushioned to the heat
hanging on each magic beat
frame by frame,

do nature pride from the South
made its play by the east sleeping in cozy sheets
root for the underdog then you will know
inflate the common ego to some friends you should know

Pac was born a winner never call him late for dinner
light the rrow ride through in featured Camaro
cameras relate ponder one to date some call it fate
be strong through the innocent,

a red rose through the concrete
not missing a beat
the wake of shady grass
no one gets by on any free pass

linger in the sweet ambiance of the day
hearts geared toward melting away
chased dreams from her hair my loving one