Wednesday, March 30, 2011
clinical files for off the grid kids who had no real chance of EVER getting off on ten hits out of a type writer
to many blows to the head.self enflicted angelic beatdowns on unimaginable scales and proportions over time periods
I was born to be a bachelor until I ended my life in a swampy marsh in southern florida
awoke in a bath tube in another dimension in time,coughing up water and being consoled by a woman I had only met a few hours before in my original timeline,reborn is such a realitive and exacting term
gravity is a building block,I know my next lifetimes gonna be a melody of bloodshed over bed rock with tens of thousands of maidens and double that for mid wives,triple that for genital sores
I feel it in my thoughts with every syllabul,word and music note that is tied in with these stanzas i delicatley string to life
everynight howls from the wind that skips along the sea
ive seen this place several times in a dream,on the outside a bed and breakfast in venice on a back alley canal way
and on the inside a space ship filled with levels that seemingly are unending and pearl white
the place is beautiful,of course,covered in marble stone.
its only filled with friends,lovers and families of me and my lover
I thank my positive energy,understanding I am not here for evil
but theres a price for being free
sweet peices of bark gently scrape my feet
I want to raise goats,holding hands and dancing in feilds
capitalisim is for the youth again
as for me its a thing of the present
I only know what the future will hold,I just havent found out yet
so I havent told a soul
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
I speak freely about the way I teach,believe,trust and speak to those apart of a collective concience
my pandoras box is that of love and misguided proof
truth...there is a reality...fiction...I can ruin that
master of a temple with my third eye wild and rhymeing fluently
devoid of technique
chaos threw harmony
its alarming how quickly I fade
into an obscure portrait that blends all paint
all i drink is bassnectar and yell DATsSIK
and the reverbaration hits like a hurricane upon a city of tents
glimpse into yesteryears to find your proof
the ultimate undoing
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
no gingivitus...just flirting with sinus cancer from all these lines i been coughin
exploring this thesis for morning glory seeds
and without limitations from the overgrowth and the power of my fallen brothers keepers
I live every day like a rave.
I pray even more now.
ive been a bass head since I can't remember
ragin couches since late september
spocking ladies brain stems since M.N.R's taught me
to be an undergroundking.
Pirates on the street of DFW to the ATX
there I found my cigarettes...my whiskey habit...and insomnia in the form of art
sleep is harder for me than most people...my body rests...but my dreamscape is far developed
the only reason i trade adderals for tramadols in the winters ending
the frogs are celebrating spring in athens county.
I live for pittsburgh...I live for that city.
so many kind hearted and genuine people...which is funny for a state that also has philly.
So many collaberations on new beginings threw a tremoultus end
to friends love
which brings me back to charlottesville...oh virgina...my home
a place where my sensory memory is on overload...
so much so my eyes well up on the top of pride rock overlooking shanendoah
the valley of the dolls
the ones that mother sewed.
where the friendliest houses have bullet holes.
then back to columbus...nights of nitros and bisco
a house full of brothers you meet moments ago
now they pass the toke
they flip a quarter because your broke.
put on some more GZA and rail that last bump...tonight is barely enough to keep our spirits up...then here comes the sun
it shines on 5 lives that have been divided
you choose your own path...as does your muse
everyonce in a while we sit to commune
were afraid of what the darkeness can do
we live life inspite of dablooms
her eyes are as wide as mine until high noon
spoons full of hash make others brew
and conjur ideas of intermediated goals that they assumed were their own
but I travel the path alone
with phone calls from richmond that are the only ones to see HOW I AM
now WHO I AM.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
It’s two months ago.
We are in a kitchen in Rome
And your head bows slightly into the steam coming off the sink.
“Penny for your thoughts,” I say
Which causes the beginning of a smile to be drawn
At Etch a Sketch speed.
I’ve seen this before
A smile you share with your not-so-little little brother
A roguish rue,
That I will go down often over the years to come.
“Keep the change,” you say.
“I don’t need the pennies” and to prove the point, a strand of copper falls down between us.
I realize then that I’ve my sayings mixed up.
“Pennies from heaven,” I try again.
But compliments won’t do at this point
Ears are deaf to the tales hair tells
“Scratch my head, fool” you correct me, still smiling,
You know that only hands really know how to listen.
And so I start.
My fingers follow in time
Each copper string I touch plays a note you’ve written yourself over the years
These are some of my favorites:
At 32 you wrote: Swedish men aren’t worth having to eat pickled herring
At 28: Litter boxes are tolerable as long as each night I can wear its owner like a fur cap
At 25: Spain is cool except in the summer. But loneliness sucks year-round
At 20: I still love Beethoven even though he didn’t write anything for the flute.
At 16: High school is bad. High school in South Florida is unbearable. Hasta la vista, baby.
At 11: Older brothers are mean AND they smell.
At 5: My oldest sister gave me a purple flower and told me purple is best. I agree.
At 2: I’ve decided to be shy.
At birth: In 34 years, I will meet a boy, and I will marry him.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
do the exact thing that makes you live again
speak no artifical hope
blow nothing but quality dope smoke until my lungs whistle like a train
Ive sprained these thumbs trying to get a ride
night in and night out
ive got a boquet of lies thats nothing to write home about
youve got the most painfully beautiful deep and sad eyes
I want you to ride this crossroad boxcar over the pautomic down to the gulf
spend a night
in cresent city as we drink until the suns been up all morning
spend another night at the levy
armed with trainwreck and a semi automatic weapon
in the morning
coffee and a 7 hour trip down I-10
austin comes quick with no hints of assasination attempts
a glimpse into the daily happenings of a classy gentleman
listening to my heart beat
ive felt my feet tap out relays
nothing stays the same
in these the otts
a rude way to constrict time and space in new ways
ive found odd times where the moon and sun shined so bright ive laid intertwined
in the ideas that i had,finally, lost my mind
though I place these notes into a bottle and toss it to sea
hopefully someone out there is just as confused as me
just as open to turning the course of this water tredding submarine
just as noble as a facade of revelry
no more understatements
only factual agreements that we had been stuck
glimpse into the overgrowth