Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Taxi Music

Twice I've ridden
with former prime ministers
several more times
with muay thai fighters

and once with the cab
driver from
the fresh prince of bel air
anything besides
'excuse me'
was rare.

Talk shows with
lots of cops
but few robbers
and some van rides
with lots of drops

blind singers
with their chest amplified
Are the soundtracks
for my daydreams

Conversations lost
behind me or beside me
muted by the taxi music
Inside Theron's Head.

Epopmaking: Pop Tu No Souguu

Thursday, June 23, 2011

And Then What Happened

The day before boarding the train he read a story on yahoo of a tornado that hit
freight cars of a train passing through Nebraska. What he wanted to be thinking about was
meeting a random woman from an exotic place who was a brilliant conversationalist. You
know the type. Long black hair, eyes that write Bangkok Noir and the kind of lips that
make men leave other women. 

      A woman stepped into his view. She was tall with a caramel complexion and dark brown
eyes. She wore a faded slouchy orange dress, carried an orange snakeskin hobo bag, had an
orange and white pop art bangle on her wrist, muted orange wedges on her feet, neon orange
nail polish on her finger and toe nails and a tangerine beret that made him think of Kate
Middleton. She took his breath. His facial expression remained distant until her eyes met
his. A slow confident smile grew as she moved toward him. She took a seat across from him
and smiled as if she hoped she had found trouble. He smiled and said "I hate that

Season of Glass

Wednesday, June 22, 2011


I could feel the fear in her
when she told me of her days.
There was always the frame
of yesterday's pains.

She was beautiful to me but
felt ugly and old.
The hell in her mind
was dark and cold.

Her stories were soaked in tears
had the scars of cigarette burns,
cheating girlfriends,
untrustworthy friends.

She idolized her father
as if he were a Buddhist monk.
He loved her so much
he only beat her severely
when he was drunk.

She willingly gave with love to anyone,
felt little returned.

She had a thing for crispy clean rappers, became a baby's mother
to a jealous abusive lover.

Spent nights with me hiding thinking someone was out to get her. I wonder if she ever felt safe anywhere.

Sometimes I can still feel her small body
on mine and how hard she slept.

River Of Love

Zephyrs from LifeThruBlueEyes by @Diana605

Their love was a river. Alive with effects and causes. Tributaries poured in. Along with rains. Carelessly, thoughtlessly, or ignorantly polluted. Areas of the river were treated and nurtured; Used in a caring way that would sustain. Other areas were left to the natural processes. There were moments of cleansing; Moments where everything felt fresh and new; Even to the water that flowed in the river for a thousand miles. They built a boat together; Got to know each other while it floated. It crashed into rocks and was smashed to pieces. They bought a better boat and paddles. After setting the boat out on the river, they paddled together through calm waters. Time went on and they found themselves in a storm and the waters were turbulent. The paddles were not enough to control the boat. They crashed over a small cliff. Again the boat was destroyed. They tried again. Their bond was deeper, or was it the emotional footprints of the trials and errors and personal mistakes? Whatever it was they continued, Bought a better boat with a motor. They travelled for years. They spent much of the time alone talking. There were daily interactions with random souls. Each completely unique except for their conditioning. Some fully commited to the conditioning were very judgmental to them about their life choices and told them they were missing so much by being nonconformists.  "Even the hippies grew up." One man had said. They persisted on their journey together. They learned all they could in the relationship and all they could from the ride and the interactions with the people they met and formed short friendships with. One day while they were seeking shelter from a rain storm the boat was struck by lightning and was a total loss. They had gone more than half their journey. Still they thought more than twice about not continuing. They decided to try some riverboats with lots of amenities and people to socialize with. Time passed more quickly and they enjoyed the dances with minds along the way. They spent considerably less time alone and found themselves often more deeply engaged with the people they met. At times they questioned whether to continue on together or get lost in the shuffle of things. After a year of riverboats they were more travel companions at times than commited lovers. They went through the days with the activities provided them and the silent nights they slept together. Her heart and mind began to wander. She began to dream dreams that didn't include him. He was content with his self discovery and the lessons life had for him daily and his writing. She bought a boat of  her own. It was a sailboat with a nice large sleeping area and room to entertain. She dreamed of getaways with only the people she invited and thought maybe she could make the connections she always wanted. Pursue the dreams that she never fully thought she had the power to. After completing all the preparations to sail on without him she left him a note that read:

"This isn't goodbye but we may lose touch.
You know if the current of our choices pull
us in opposite directions or the winds of our
lives blow so hard we can't make the corrections.
If you chase your dreams and i chase mine and we
find that its been a long time. When you think back
on the time that we had. The dreams we shared.
The love and devotion we declared. Don't regret
anything. Don't resent me for the choices i made.
I won't resent you for yours. When i think of you I
want to remember your smile. I want to remember
how your lips and eyes looked when you were
happy with me. I want to remember us when it
was how love was supposed to be. If we lose touch,
Don't think this never meant that much.
Because for a moment in time you were my everything."

As he read the letter he began to think back over all the moments they shared. The laughter and tears. The beautiful times alone together on the river. He had observed each moment so closely. It was like he could relive them over and over. He would tell them and retell them in his words until his readers had lived them with him. He felt the loss deeply. He cried sometimes. He filled his pen with the pain and tears and the blood from the crashes. He grew as a man. He became stronger and more confident. He awakened more and more to what really is and let his perceptions, ideals, designs fall away.  He bought his own sailboat. He realized how much he had gained from soaking in all the moments so deeply. He felt them with a sensitivity some had called a weakness. He lived a full life. Was loved by and loved many women. He lived all his dreams and became the talented skillful writer he always hoped to be with a recognizable name. That gave him a comfortable life.  He never heard from her again after that day. After many years he died, single but happy. His soul left his body peacefully. His energy rejoined the universe. Everytime it rains he rejoins the river of love.

Into The Mystic

Saturday, June 18, 2011

The Doors Of Perception Eisegesis (The D.O.P.E.)

She said "The doors of perception
must be wiped clean
to ever see reality."
I said "LSD, The Doors, Aldous Huxley or
William Blake?"
She said "Can you use
The Blue Flame to
light my fire."
I said "Yes, are you
at the end of your tether?"
She said "I've changed form
since I saw the pattern from
The Outisde now I ride
on the storm."

I said "people are strange.
How can they not see?
If they want to see what's true
break on through,
cut the rope,
and roam free.
Woman touch me
love me 2 times
till I come alive.
Love expands the consciousness,
Cosmic awareness.
We are the universe
the universe is us.
Take off your clothes
take off your role
remove the filter.
Let's make more strange people."

The Doors of Perception and Heaven and Hell

Friday, June 17, 2011


Image by Robert Rauschenberg
Thanks to Mark Kerstetter for the correction

Can you reveal you
through popular images or
does your voice fade
like copies of copies
Just because you start
with recognizable words
and regress doesn't mean
you're not a tribute artist

I don't mind
if you don't have
a pedigree
as long as your
unique voice
speaks to me

Can you connect
the opposites
and show me how
we are one
while allowing me
a new way to see
something as mundane
as the sun

Don't show me your perfections
show me your blemishes
its not what the images can do for you
its what you can do for the images

Painting Below Zero: Notes on a Life in Art


Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Yours Or Mine

Flood waters bubble up
from traumas in subconscious minds
seeping inside rooms with walls
built of paranoid memories.
Dreams of private islands
forgotten behind night terrors
from lifes stresses
and our conditioning.
Idealistic ambitions
crash into self discovery
feeling metal bars seperating
allowing arms to embrace
but leaving space between.
Anger, bitterness, resentment
replacing the childlike smiles
and laughter of a new found love.
When there is no key
and you don't know
which way the prison doors open
you hope for good karma
or an act of God
and hold on for dear life
at least for today.

Set Fire To The Rain (Original By Adele)

Friday, June 3, 2011

A Proper Storm

A dirty white wall of clouds
fell like a gate on a kingdom.
It struck so hard there
was a spark that lit up the sky
like turning a light on.
Before my eyes blinked there was
a crash and boom.
It seemed like a metaphor for my day.
Which was a sudden down pour of challenges, walls of opposition,
and feeling soaked in inadequacy.
My money wasn't long enough
to cover me.
The royals seem to have no love for me,
and their horses sleep in better spaces
than the room I locked my keys in.

Wash Away (reprise)