donate to ya boy

Thursday, July 28, 2011


I wonder if she thinks of me when the sun is warm
the morning fresh on this side of the world
Ive tried to describe her,
I barely talk anymore.
Its sweet I assume to feel this good about the smile of a godess
a day and a half away across two diffrent timezones
in a midwestern junction of hussle and ghosts
while im blowing kisses towards digital notes
in this sauna of a pacific coast.
I toast to her love in my steps and my words
all the pretty women I come in contact know theres some one interfereing
they can hear it in my laughter
see it in my thougts.
my moment of zen is when I close my eyes and the outlines swirl into her smile
dripping out to her features
her eyes deep shades of purple,peppered with green and glitter
that reflect the smooth outlines of her cheekbones,with the sun melting her golden hair to her perfect lips as she brushes it aside while her bracelets click
wiggle and jingles as her laughter seems to cloud and surround the entire afterglow
of the one too many mornings
...I doubt anyone has any idea whats in store,
I barely know...

Wednesday, July 27, 2011


my brains eye reflects upon stills in time
cross legged philosiphy sessions with children from across the recession
telling blessings of every day life
written in scripture
we suprise ourselves with our human desires
how wild it is to think as one
all on a contenit adrift like molecules of a surf
suppose it took courage to feel this hurt
when in reality its about as effortless as mornings turning over
every bone snapped and wandering the insides of your enclosing
vomiting out the leftovers
such an age we chose to be born of.
storms come,foliage grows,rivers thunder and we glorify money above all
mostly the supremacy of nature
combustion of the soul.
its easy to imagine a planet not sutible to evolve on
I weep what has been sown

Tuesday, July 26, 2011


Heavy break away from the main stays
morning will be easier if we smoke...
let these questions billow out of those lungs
spun telegraphs in spiderwebs only visible from ceartin perspectives
ride out the night watching tides
reflecting on this busy life spent studying
drenched in selective disgcuises
expecting at least to be brought back to life
for seconds
if not to childhood
glory as described by friends of mine
I question desires
why all things die
then I realize in every moment
this is what defines

Monday, July 25, 2011

I keep wondering if trust will run out soon
if this country will implode
or if we'll recive whats "due"
from a who know who...or maybe someone new
maybe machines'll do it
true it could be a plauge or two
trust it,says a few
dont be a fool says glass half fulls

I on the other hand wait for morning to judge.

maybe afternoon dependig on the night before.
I mean youd want to wake up kinda stoned for the end of the world..
sure,enough is enough
so maybe,if theres a future,ill wake up to my wondeful wife
or a seed or two...a barking dog...hell maybe a platoon
for if were envaded Ill protect those who need to
please do the same for us,
because animals were built to love
but they were built to fight too.
I wish we all would coexsist,
but with yin theres a yang too.
pay what is due
or it will pay ten fold to you

Saturday, July 23, 2011


the blinds are tusseling for position
light gleams
its almost like a gimmick the way the brillance is mimicked
tripping faithfully in the back woods of maine.
stained brain waves
crusted over with dried out peices of sweet talking
her smell is my calogne
I wash bad dreams out with hints of knowledge
talking about throwing the money into the fernace to stay warm
boring chores of reliving stories
every moment is a couple seconds reborn
but of course it shouldent mean much
more so than not
it does
define the world.

to love:

with no keyboard I type classics in my brain
there are masterpeices when I shut my eyes
I reach her when my mind is wide
& open...
and she is the one thought in which I reside.
I tirelessly write her name inbetween every adjective,stanza and metaphor
in hopes she can feel every morcal of my love
low are the tides when then moonbeams strike
she knows
her & I.
but she never says a word..
there just smiles reflected by the sunlight
traveling down,into and threw
empty head...with only space
lightning bolts


and all I learned was one million seperate ways to refrence the metropolitan epa center of australia
Its in my destiny for beautiful things to generate...even if its a handfull of times.
From dusk at sunrise.

I choose to not say much of anything

Wednesday, July 20, 2011


I do not adhere to a scene
there is NO ART here made for money
words do not cost a cent
and I will never coast in the conversations we indulge...
stroll threw the country with we,
meet the mornings with glee
give yourself to the century
be still,and know you and
as a supernova of vivid color and designs...
rigid and geometric
but flowing and copasetic.
blessed by the treasure of our freindship

a room full of like minded individuals,accented by christmas lights and the bottle of _______
we pass polietly.

tight lipped poetry which was by inclined
eyes and arms wrapped in mine.
spliced single frames of flight
and one las plight for the night

smells and orgasims.trails of fractiles

and here we are again..debating the forecast


I removed a tooth with blunt force on the way to my choir recidle.It was half past nine in the morning and I was feeling homicidal.past the bridal shops and underneath the overpass I trapped a homeless man and held a peice of glass to his neck demanding all his cash,in a flash I had tensed up and found myself at a liquor store with no delima but passion,I needed a bottle to relive some of my memories in hopes of never creating new ones ever again,stumbling I fell down on the ground so I put out my hand,only light I could see and the sillouette of my pinky finger,a dark shadow grasped my sweating cadaver.down to the floor with me I pulled the stranger,a man who smelt of whiskey and danger,I whispered lets get lost somewhere,pull some tail,abd never speak of the evening a-gain. He murmered wimsicly that he was engaged so I tossed his body into the counter,knocking out bottles ontop of his subsequently bleeding carcass. I quickly danced to my feet,sweetly kneeing him in his teeth,pointing at my bloody mouth,yelling to the knocked out man to "QUIT BEING A PUSSY". the clerk was on his phone,so back to the aisle I roamed,picking up a bottle of rum and swigging it dry.Schwily was I,so I backed up and ran forward,diving over the counter and dressing the bastard with a black eye,the police came on the other line,I said everything was fine,the man with the problem had exited,the lady on the line smiled and hung up,so I put the will return soon up sign and left.Out into the denver cold,smoldering cigarettes I put out on my tounge,throwing my hands up on the side of park avenue west,while baseball fans shake their head and step on past. Classy indviduals I say as I cough up mucus. Dumb luck I found a couple more tens in the back pack I comendeared from the kid on his long board,greasy hippy fuck. He smelt like pot,I asked if he had any,the idiot just shook his head,so I flabergasted,pulled out my dick and pissed on him,he wasnt mad,just stunned and worried my secretions held disease,fuck me I says,I need to go to bed,so I slapped him in the face and continued down 37th.Back into the ghetto,somthing of a spun time,probally because I bought some crack rocks off the 12 year old with the crooked smile,I was wild and out for the rest of the month,strung out and in denial,finally at the end of the all came the rape,but that was animalistic in nature,so to keep up with apperences I did myself in at the christmas choir series,act number two when I had the mic and I came to spit it. I was suppose to mention mary,but instead I took one to the temple.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011


these eyes display in black and white
threw the night I hear & see sights not fit for normal minds
minus a few knives I used to carry around,
I'am the same old hell raiser I was back in my hometown.
I still can operate a double barrel pump,or semi automatic single action bolt
shot after shot Im still bi pedial and congigating verbs
regal for lack of a more beautiful term,
Iam safe threw these inner storms
formed out of an overwhelming sense to observe
pouring coffee for the world at my doorstep...asking to hear stories
dying slowly and surley
its perfect to know theres an ending
some resolution to all the touring
that I still act like its the fourites,and court the women who drive me sane
crazy how it works that way
surely in the machinery of almighty nature theres a warning in paitence
and more so on haste
life is a feast,taste everything at the table

my eyes are open

what the fuck is happening!Im barely sleeping and waking up from unnerving dreams. the woman I love is 3000 miles away from me...and the only thing I can think to bring is a bottle of vicodin and gallon of rye whiskey. The ending. New beggings in begging this time for its all over in minutes... & Im barely awake from dying because lying got old as shit.good heavens, Try me,Im the good man whos far concerned with being grimey,so much so I turn blind eyes to reason and become what I fear...for most of the time is spent in here...this brain and heart I spare,in hopes of never turning into a monster or losing my focus...yet im awaere...and I dont know if I can keep pouring my soul into a world that boasts nothing in barter...but tomorrow comes soon enough,so I lay down and imagine a blooming sunrise over the body of my soft skinned lover.drenched in sweat,pulsaiting her stomach to the rise and compression of my lungs and questions...the shimmer of our bodies are like candles in this room with barely enough of it for air. I can taste her now,the atmosphere,the salt and saliva in the wind. The rug burns and red marks from where our lips tore and pleasured,as warm breaths give way to nussled head in chests and hands take hold of every inch of this perfect dream that is impossible to beat read from my head to my head and and the only thing left is the climax...but theres a cold wind,dark circles form underneath my eyelids,I feel as though this is how it ends,this beautiful moment in time lapses. I feel as though IM lost in imagination,like all the drugs I did created this,it feels like an illusion,but my scabs still cover the blood drips. Its a clipse,of star shapes and mood,and doom seems to be the only lost art I havent perfected up to this looming sense of aptitude...its innate to be this rude,to have these razor sharp wits and a loss of concess in the afternoon..but thats why I stand in the mirror,to realign my perception and to overcome these fears...easy thing is to forget how I move,hardest thing is to love me more than I do wide awake.
underneath the lamp post
as my hearing goes in and out
words come pouring like new found comfort in bold mouthes
a thought in the system of doubt
without strife,comes widespread words of the wise
shouting unmatched syllabuls of clout in these times we despise.
was it I...the one who fell deep and unannounced?
my only fear is that I shall watch from the couch
traps,dead arms give way to read epitaphs
lastly,I spring to action like forgery in the hands of idenity bandits
planned moments of activity,
then endings begining with the endings
please,forget you once knew me,the truth,was we never even saw it happening
but blind eyes are blinding stars in the canopy
then again isnt every revolutionary stingy
love is bliss
to me

Monday, July 18, 2011

a soul at the gate,
replinished & frightened
night time splices with moments of memoris of those who lived life in a limelight
only to be struck down by visions of those who mean to inject fright
fear for lack of a better term,love the antethisis OF
spun until the clothes are worn out,fading like the sounds of distant war drums
moments now turn to tourment
,what was I put here for now love?
Lord if I had a gallon of bullets Id pour it into the people I trust
only because of the hardships that are hard to speak of without trouble
new brain bubles burst like bruises and blisters
but somthing is reminescent of my childhood fears
I came for the combustion
Ill stay for the fuck of it


Am I even sober yet
or is this thread the thatch work of time invesments
the only charm was our cunning wits
a couple splits of the ten strip
then we took some fifths and fell victim to the shallow nature of it
hell bent self discovery of mind and limbs
divots in your every day perception all credited to belif systems and brain chemistry
lessons of an immense counter culture resurgance,or the hopes of it
see the months were incripted,all it ment was we were at risk of losing all wed spent
no cents,because or sense was abundant to the absurd nature of this
egotistical,the right hand to smart buisness plans
a chance this could all end soon
and im back to my parents guest room,but i feel as though some days I was only in it during the womb,then I heard jesus dipped out the tomb
and if any son of god can live more than once,
I sure as hell can too
Ive spent days reflecting on when my birth name died
and that persona I had been devolping perspired and aquired every ounce of my spine
I would be lying if I said I want to do it all over again,then again
if I had that chance,
wouldent that mean Id have it again?
im spent,dead broke and full of hope and grit
these lips are smoking and spewing filth as if I had never imagined this river of death was how id move
sea sick swaying to the news of the blue faced chain gang looking forward to their last days
but I am awake,and in heaven,
for christs sake
I dont have to fake being nice,only because I look for the nights
where I need to go out and spend my tiem.
most of life I read and drink

Saturday, July 16, 2011


Can you feel the revolt
its bubbling in that brain of ours
the scars on my forehead and across these walls
maps of terror
my fair warnings are not glaring
but a gloss I wish to never give away
be still
my silent majority
our time is awake
its growing like the second sight of the aim
in the bane of truth
there will be gain
but order is do.
I feel as though theres a comfort in moments of solitude
otherwise complete ambiguity
flasks passed over last wishes
graveyards filled with confetti.
id be copesetic if my rederic wasnt heady
but in the trophophosphere is where I find my headaches
explaning an e8 lead group to men of such planes
commercial desires.
galactic spirals
the only reason I feel like a child when I close my eyeballs
an only shit from a family of lunatics
but I took it to the boxcars
knocked around a few parking lots
never narced
now intellectually sparr as if life was a chess board
my jaws warn,
but its just warmin up
I cant let it spoil this come down
so I pay my dues and know when to bow out
say my goodbyes and pay my associates off
so rounds dont come ground this hound
it gets real out here,theres no other way to relate
youll find yourself being a rab lat for fast cash
spazzed out surrounded by haz mat with broken english
scraping up a muffled:relax
well,somthing to that effect
,I hope this isnt what health class was about when I was looking in the courtyard
dreaming of high school breasts.
I hope my throat will be at its best when I march to every capital city with a mouth full of half hazardous gaps of knowledge and the balls to say it all
a soul in diamond fissures and visions
hands dipped in rat traps and scissors
and my seizure riddled in spats of gratitude
who knows what tomorrow will bring
maybe hand gernades
maybe a wedding ring
as for me Ill wait around awkwardly and meditate
praying to buddahallahvishnujesussatanyahweahthefonzand...THE...OHIOSTATE
that I at least!
get laid before judgement day.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Stop reading this shit

I wonder what will happen threw these

last days as children

will it simply be a mindstate of visitation or forever given days of jubilation

can i mediate threw this planet of rombus & prisims


is this all what I make of it.

quantum physics

tall statues and tv dinners

deliverance of flashing lights

sounds & colors

forever touched deep by the scent of fresh flowers

old rail ways

& ghost towns.

radio towers which share my darkest memories

and the memrobiia that reminds me of her singularity

trails of depth in a chamber of trust forever commemirated and hung here

on a wall from which time moves threw

and love is true to.

splashes of color paint a story of such,one of heart break



& lust.

I hope you can trust in me as much as I trust in us

we were born as


much greater than the gods.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

When the ______ was finally murdered.

I get higher when these demons start to bubble up
im filled with distortion and compustion when I tumble threw the up & up
knowledge lust,
chambered trouble that Ive been dealing with since ruptured guts
raped jaws singing scripture,mister,I doubt they bust a nut
dirty kids who break for plagerisim and
hash blunts,
ashin um
using venacuilar that blastin ya
these classy fucks
skip to visions of a free lunch.jawwin threw stories and 3 months
regular speeds of thought lost in...what
so you know its suppose to seal like processed doctrines,
so load em up
by introducing christian women to
it seems weve started an epidemic of bastard fucks.
bleed and preach as they beat street kids with pad locks in cotton socks
while packing cotton swabs to top the motto of a gutter punk
fishing for a line up of brain cum with lock jaw that turns into popped losses
that drop foreheads like river cards in false causes.
far away from the car alarms is where I daze off into trolly cars
dream about demeaning the peeps that are slippin hard
its clear my rockers off and I find it hard not to want murder some
but I generally just tend to distort ear drums
I smell the blood of a bunch of pussy writers without a concept of punch
jab step,stick move
dynamite in virgin mothers womb,BOOM,
Gettin tired of nothin new!

Tuesday, July 12, 2011


I wander threw darkness with my head open,these white walls singed,my body is a vessel of good will and intentions. Harmony is the disguise I fade by,irony is the wild eyes of a child who stares back from the inside of the mirror I reside in. Iam rounded by telepathy,next to me is nothing but vile trials of will and profittering.I am no prophet,but grain of the land;I lead by example,and listen while others wait for their chance.Glances of harlots puts me in trances and are but awe inspiring examples of my humanity,gradually I fall asleep,but not before I open the door way to obscurity. These random night time images speak volumes to me. Its all by design,these days into the dusks,those kids who keep forgeting to drop me notes...I pour bong water on these sluts,only in hopes of toasts and hugs,if they make an action figure of my alter ego he'll have a kung fu pick pocketing button. Somthings not right with my brain,which points me in the direction of mental illness or extreme awareness of those above and beside this chest,my heart beats threw my skin,and Iam aware of how blessed ive been,which directs me in new directions.I cant stop this avalanche of detours and objections,the only lesson I garner is new ways to fashion these words into followers,even though the art I love is dead. Im not bashing my head threw any plate glass windows,but with that being said,the kids still think im out of control and spiraling downward...but my days arent riddled by others words,I push to the center of my being so that I can be releaved of these earthly immortals always jabber jawwing in my presence,steering me down the path of fear. I cant tell whats worse these days,an apocalypse or the manifestation of it, I pray that my next life has visions of this one,deja vus of beautiful days with people who I truley love...I feel smug when I talk about desires,or how I live a truly blessed life,though I understand it has more teachings and strife then most,but my time proceeds by its own design,so my days arent filled dreams of VCRs or boats...or whatever junk people crave for,designate days for,celebrate their tastebuds by drowning in a sea of blubber and talk shows. I ghost,wildly into the lights,tearing down high ways so my brain will see these sights,Id rather collect friends in reality then stare at their pictures and read their statuses. God attracted to the plastic intentions as well,Ill still find myself wandering around malls in orange county,but I dont purchase anything,I just want to be reminded of why I sleep in parked cars in random parkinglots across the united states,and why I dont go on dates to make my penis and self confidence feel great,id rather beat my meat then go tricking and risk ruining my insides in one date...its funny to me how easy it is to waste this life,it always seems brighter on the other side,which makes suicide bombers and ravers confidants in a molecular brain is fried,and my tires are worn,but that dosent mean Ill be sitting for long,or jumping on bandwagons or aiming for awards,this is no sport,this is what friends are for...and how enemies are born. Even with no bad intentions,swagger jackers come out of the wood...but I say fuck it,imma let them live....i wish we all would.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

you fucking name it

I am a sheppard for all these wolves in sheeps clothing
combustable right brain riddled with poetry
a confounded sense of the profound obligotory
my stories our worthy of glitz,glamour and glory
but I reside in the obituaries of the timid,tame and tourturing
restoring the fact that normal executions bore me
my dreams warn me
I was born to bleed as a revolutionary
wether thats measured in word or body counts is really no concern to my movements or whereabouts
no warnings will sufice,only mourning threw the night
light shines threw the razor blade slits of the blinds,this mind is a kite
magnetic for the thoughts of a collected high
try as I may,I still long for the day where my princess is by myside
and the streets are stormed by the smiles of the enlightened
who are not afraid to be alive


he has ressin
trade it.
the last train hop until the flesh begs claim vox
swiging down the rest of the O
but theres no E in schwilly
closed eyes,open throat
breath of smoke
lots raged nearly claimed by graves and police baracades
days snake;lines break upon the slaves of the raves
a race
asprin marmelade which cures anything
living out loud when we should have prayed

hes got a full bottle of whiskey and a half a vile of fluff

my stomach is turned inside and out when he told me to open my mouth

we can tell hes in it for the muff.

all these women are way to fucked up,except the girl Im keen on

shes been meditating for eons

the moon is dangaling from my mouth...and theres not enough cannibus to go around
out threw the head
out threw the backdoor into the morning
clans mold,shape and reform up on exits and tunnels
I enter at ten,eyes blood shot,muscles spent
obviously back again
clearly this is how it ends,then the day starts amended,little rest,lots of xanyx
new friends,clean shaven head for the space monkeys graduation of days off
now blast off into outer spaces,keep quiet,the triangular shapes may fade
and out breathing like breeding spouces
close roundabouts of replayed nouns and loud noises
hold onto the never,blooom into the now,the speakers blow out
and im douced in radiation and thousands of clouds
now the gloves tucked inside of panties,bullying the fingers out of her blouse
the only home ive ever had is in actuality a couch
or a spot in a bed with some slut who smells like death,except,it maybe the way
I was supposed to bow out,
closed eyes open mouthed
full of piss and vinegar,when I should be in control of the sinister thoughts that bounce around
out loud is now where the old me finds pairs
hearts a flame and skeletons buried
clearly this is not the morning anymore
so were mourning the last of the war lords
the capture is maluible

live by the pen,die by the sword.

Saturday, July 9, 2011


Its the first week I've had to myself since I first moved to Denver two years ago...Ive treated it like I was in jail..push ups and water,but with more control over the televison, air conditioning and food I cough up.Its an odd future were coming in to,I swear no one says anything these days,its all regurgitation and inuendos..Ive met some real cats though,but their all balls deep into their lucy or endo...and so am I,though,I dont eat various perscriptions to get high anymore...I know what they all are...I feel theres strength in being a I take the gold acura for a spin,cutting threw the pacific wind of fullerton,with no currency to envolve myself with,so I write incecently about these trips...only taking time for more crunches...water bottles full of NO goes from the illegals to the over the counter supplements with out a wink nor flinch,but at least the family cheering...I guess...I havent really cared what anybodys said since '96 ,but I finally see the repurcussions of this action,quiet months in the highest tax brackets where we snort drugs casually over intellecutal revelry...and I still dont pay for anything,but I will one day...not in a bad way...I dont over consume nor do I let this skin peel away,I think my friends are more concerend with my sanity then ive been lately...and the only place I want to be is ohio again,no real reason,except for the girl with the blonde dreads. Heads give way to sleep followed by the bored trolling of various craigs lists advertisements...I feel draped in metal and fiberoptics,filled with hot stock tips and happy only when Im up to my neck in the tar a stocked kid,with knowledge and wits for the road...but im broke when it comes to holding down jobs and tying ties for the corproate words,this heart is swollen and beating ever more softley then before. Though the war drum bangs in this gut of mine,the celing caves in when I close my eyes,im not long from a relapse to catch the high tides and ride the waves into various time zones...Im done with this espionage,Im tired of trying to be a clone to skate by...I dont want to deal with the unknown liars,the time tables and graph chaerts...I want to be incognito & silent in various parks & parts of the country where the only one in need of hugs is my family,not the blood one...the one that comes after we

Friday, July 8, 2011


who am I said the cinderblock
with the flock came revelry
the bar was dark so I smiled silently
there were jokes and shared shots of gin and trivia
we sparred as intellectual confidonts over coos & quagmires
aspiring to be quite the little rembrands our rennisance was a closet obsession
for spectacles of an otherwise worthless truth
how humble are you
were we before the morning
the night lights as frightning as wild beast
mere mortals were we
hugging and shouting to the sleeping
songs until morning
until tomorrow evening!
draped in the comfort of company
the souls run to me it seems,especially on evenings like these
we clean our hearts in the hopes of the composed beautiful finale to this glow
or the continuing perpetuation of the smiles and the laughter that ive shared with my chumps
alas lass,poor is another glass
lets tip back to the air and the sea!

Thursday, July 7, 2011

call of the yeti

this head is in a tumble
i made a concience effort to be awake in all the tunnels
car rides,bus rides,light rails & planes.
the days funneled out and trickled down the ladder
I was proud to fall down
even more so then
the only ideas I have begin and end with the thought of your scent.
trends are but a fault
Im split and at a lost,
but the real time is tough
the only thing i ever wanted was trust
but I assumed it was luck
struck by the nights fare,
its fair to assume these black eyes deal with stares
brushes with death in the early morning subconceince point to tumors
rumors which filter tourment threw these
guided words for worlds not finalized
I am but an italicized ink blot on a coffee stain
these teeth are bust rust
I rushed into thinking Id die young,now I feel as though Im dead set on
living longer
stronger,plastered,go-getter,counter culture ratchet for hire at any corprate chain
I used bleach in preperation of this resume
I petend I want to buy video games
want to be a manager one day
its all bianary code out in the real world,smile,polite,intellecutal but not opiniated,easy to remember & hard to pick out of the room
the one with the non regional accent and non shalant demeanor
but these feelings are sincerely steadfast,and my pledge is
forever underground

Wednesday, July 6, 2011


Uncle sams dead fist has got ahold on this bliss of mine
my cry is but dust in a capsule of muscle and time
bishop drawns pawns into his vision
strucutring enviorments with controlled cynicism,
ripples that will be felt threw out all the empires and villages
conspire not to be militant but children of valor and vision
speak genuenly and in the poetry that flows threw your soul
I have grown warm to the woes of the world
as most grow cold
sad eyes spell binded by the pendelum of time
when machienery is blind to the touch
we pass tea and jugs of wine.
If love was but a smile,
then tonight,
warm breeze...bright...
trials bring delusion to these streets of childhood,it pays to be silent these days
the otts,
where you can lose a finger for anything.
Tamed animals in cages behaving in the ways we assume were supposed to
when in actuality you were created
to change the world
small steps,big results:silent victories of mind,body & soul
Its a bold choice to give up material comforts
to glow in the way your heart tells you to
to be in love with ones self is one of the hardest things to do
because you always have to live with you
so make the choices that beckon to you,because evil and sadness is nessicary too
me myself,you will always have room and food as long as I do
open hands,arms and ears.
Is it clear being off grid is the smartest way to exsist
because several idenitys can work too
To tell the truth we need conglamerates as much as we need intellagence
and the perception of militance,when in actuality be pacifist
walking contraditions is the only thing that exsists in this collected unconcience
im disgusted by the tradition in this technological renissance
be honest,truthful and above all be generous
I miss the tremors,those fears that made me feel alive
but I sleep with no muscles aching and unmasked
pure smiles
all I wish in the world is to meditate on a mountain with my princess
dont skin yourself alive to bring smiles.
trial by pile drives
soul full of blood,
mouth full of heat


visions of her angelic smile always tickles the arsonist in me

the sharpest mind to dangerous to be stained

complacent in being,never in spirtuallity

parachutes reign much like augustus,with a darkened sun.

In the midst of the mist I wander

squander the last of my resources,the result

dreams slaughtered,resurgance of the fallen tear drops ive bathed in.

razor wire chain relays that seperate the weak from the astranged

comforting thoughts that reassure pain

though glory is only a heartbeat away

it pays divedends to live dangerously on these trapese streetes

high wire,lime light kites sent back in time to severe ties

her smile is the only sight I need in mind

it drives me wild only if not to anticipate,i neither know nor hate

only prison walls could keep me from her

praying those words that are in our cards

two forms

night and morning
Im caught inbetween two schools of thought

that of the underground from which I was born

also of the mainstream for where all paths go

there is no question my heart lives with the latter

as a mater of fact Im healthier when unknown.

though as the world turns these youngins shall gain knowledge

much like I have...not all is here to hurt

though nothing is here to help if you dont do it yourself.


I lay on this coast,much like I slept on her note

it seems as if they beckon for me

the mountains of colorado

I have these visions of reflecting pools atop the tips of grander

amongst the alpine and waterfalls I find markings of past foot traffic

oh how I hope they lead me to salvation...these paths I tramp

but instead its all dead ends filled with blank journals and empty camps

these ranges swallow them whole

those who are in it for the gold

listen with your soul,

not all who are lost wander

not all who wander are lost,nor is there a particular mold

Iam replinished by smoke,I breathe as if I was born to

the fornication of the wind and the season give birth to dreamers

growing up to be deadmen or platoons

that look out over green valleys seasoned by civilization

where time is a foreign concept

and pain is but a next step on the long path to doom

I take years off to realign symetry,then its back to the open road,

back to the visons

back to quiet mornings of coffee and meditation

soundtracked to the high altitude pit patter of rain & the sounds of adolescense

set to a skyline I tried to forget while I strolled below it

smiling hardest if not to choke on my tears

the only fear is what I havent said in years

clearly this head is a mirror

Monday, July 4, 2011


this city above me has no constraint of feeling nor reason
more so belif is what seems to be mistreated
the main cause of these blunts coupled by sheets,closed blinds
feelings of retrospect threw lost time
I have to collect myself in the morning to realize those I love are on their own grind
oh doc,you have given yourself to a constant tide
isnt it a sin to give your full concience to the lord,losing indvividuality
the main point of developing ones soul..
or is this the biggest lesson of them all?
explinations are not needed as I snuggle my shallow grave
carving out hope in these american nightmares that resurface
my heart hurts for the crushed skulls and the one to many lines to a single frontal lobe
to the girls I tried to love when I couldent care for my own
my head swells from the nights that ended in the late afternoon
each rain drop is scripture as it replinishs my goals
trapped inbetween keeping it to real and fools gold
when all I want is her smile and warmth.
Over the rickety train tracks with rusted nails to snag your foot
I heard short prayers from the birds sitting along each plot of digested wall
small words not meant for gods
I assume AS MUCH

Saturday, July 2, 2011

I used to say everything will work out one day

it always does

never the way I thought it may

drums bang as twitchs and turntables burn holes in my cerebral vortex

it holds my soul

not one lost poem is here in the cortex,all thats felt is love

smoldering hot headed passion that youd yell out of taxi windows whom you paid to circle the city all night

under the lights,red hearts melt as the cabbies stories are worth the fare alone

I exit early,tell him to vamanose

my hot breath is outlined in this desolated timeline of a night,not one building I pass registers

no wage is garnished in a single register,addreniline will be enough for dinner tonight

the mornings spray painted gold.

Friday, July 1, 2011


I dealt with it
the miles,the mindless sales pitch and the onset of carpal tunnel syndrome
its best not to appear to forward
scores of thoughts press on like riots,piloting
in otherwords tripping the void.
moist morning mixers where childhood dreams scream like robotic eagles
as we
tear down the machine from the it right
these were all good intentions once,
ghost ship glows along the it gone
we open our heads to the sounds of revelations,jubilation,tribulation,spineless
tasteless,romantic symphonys
in otherwords a sensory orgy
glory as told by those who saw it.
brushing it off from those who dont
My claws are in this vicious adaptation of cleanlieness
im covered in a checkered past
I can barely remember the past several concussions
these bridges wrap me up and beg me to stay here
its been a long time since last year