Of Love and Life

I fill each page with a song and no page gets filled at all. These have been times, Wasted and harsh, bitter and entitled no more for all shall be entitled to peace, and love. But we have an illusion of what  love is as such  we have illusions  of life. 6/8/14

When the Mind Goes Free

Radio production of a hallucination and hallucinogenic  splendor and fun while the estute minds of an  aborted playground progress. There minds swell, and die yet live and thrive. Some think dubstep has taken over the world, others smoke the bong and preach but have no idea who Cornel West is. Preach on to the sweetContinue reading “When the Mind Goes Free”

Forgotten Pages and Souls Wander

Forgotten pages and souls wonder and wander wondering what could have been? Instead what is  gets swept  under the ugly rug of a family skeleton closet. Cradles never  rocked. Spanish language poems fill the hallways of a once empty mind, and Gil Scot Heron is not forgotten. Who says a white man can’t jump orContinue reading “Forgotten Pages and Souls Wander”

Strong Coffee, Cigarettes, and Other Poetic Cliches

Some strong coffee, a bottle of Vino and a french cigarette and before you know it your a regular Jean Paul Satre. A resource for the masses for unwise wisdom. A wisdom that bares no profit is the most profitable of wisdom said a very wise unwise-man. Who knew that words are currency to some?Continue reading “Strong Coffee, Cigarettes, and Other Poetic Cliches”

Your word Your place, Your work Your Mark

No force or strings, bribes, promises or laws will keep me from my stake and claim. The time has come for the fight once feared, now bragged about, cold is end of the sad day when you turn to a retreat more shameful than the french. The cities belong to the pedestrians but they wereContinue reading “Your word Your place, Your work Your Mark”

I am My Mind and One are Three

I am my mind, One are three, Sense is none, Our Dreams are real, Our talks are waste, Our vaudeville is dead, Our wives are prudes, Our Husbands are daughters, Our Sons are whores, Our pages are dead, and everything is a satire upon a joke upon Irony. HA! 3/27/12

What Now Rally on Lust

What now, rally obscure sexuality. Charge! Charge! Charge I say! Charge upon no frustrations reef upon the end of  the charged of the royal and the entry whole. Beautiful release, no vulgarity only in the minds of those oh so sadly feeble, so weakly angry, no sin of the flesh, only pleasure, it is aContinue reading “What Now Rally on Lust”