Monday, April 23, 2012

Revelations & Awakenings

I peered into the clouds from a terrace and an emerald sword was piercing the heavens, the heavens usually so distant formed a cocoon onto which the lights of the neon gods projected their pollution as if a battle of wills were at play. Who is servant and who is master and I to arbitrate between the contestants. But I am no arbitrator merely an observer trying to discern a reality, and to any delusional mind the inhabitants of the earth the sirens calling out from below whirling through the streets and reverberating all the way up and out to celestial realms were sufficient proof that it was they who dictated their own perverse destinies… but I stood from without burdened with the knowledge of their erroneous plague, burdened as if an idol upon a cross, struggling as my ancestors and the fathers of my fathers with a Name. A name ineffable and yet indelibly marked upon my very core as an anchor, as a root, as a tether keeping me hinged in an unhinged construction we relate to as world. It was me that the masters were battling over as they do over the souls of all men, men created from the material earth, men created with the breath of the Divine. And as I saw the distortions drip down my face and crawl out of the gullet I compelled them away so that I may truly withdraw from their presence and enter into that of Another’s. The sanctification of times are the keys to the universe and the means of interaction with Transcendence. They are life and well of sustenance transmitted in a symbol-laden machine emergent through the eras and as crystallized by the sons of prophets in the Iron Age. Were it not for them I would have no license, with sealed lips and no invitation to praise. Dust standing before the sublime daring to enunciate a syllable, an offense damn near killable. Yet they reached my hands, so that they may bathe in the tears of newfound realizations. Wave upon wave rippling through my being, pulsing with a masochistic pleasure in the joys of tearing down dilapidated floorboards that had grown cherished. Nothing, nothing, nothing… just fleeting and moment. Flotsam and jetsam obfuscating an eternal treasure. A treasure not mine and yet with grace flowing upon me. A storehouse of unadulterated light from its origins, no trappings, no designs, no egos and crimes. Prostration before a true Master and Lord of Peace, a barefoot step back against the comforts of man. A knock at the door, and two dark angels inquire “do you know this man?” to which “of course, he’s my brother!” and a new step in the journey makes its mark in the evening with the solace of one corpse granted blissful resurrection…

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Years Against the Morrow

Poppy, pa, where has he gone? Why did he leave us? Didn’t he believe us? His pain and his sorrow the years against the morrow… These unfair questions that nag us and drag us. His princess his bride, his jewel and his pride… returned to the earth… What was she worth? For him more than life and even his children, he said to himself “my wife or my burdens?”… He chose his choice and it was for eternal rejoice. But couldn’t he have made another? If not but for a while? Just live on that limb which we all knew was denial? He couldn’t, he didn’t, he would’ve if he could, I now know when that day comes that I really should. He gave and he gave so we knew of his heart lest you’d need a pick to unlock it or tear it apart. He was my father, the one I never had, he is my model for being a dad. In reading my writing I see ghosts of his words, fluttering in the distance like migrating birds. Just as he chased after her that was fleeting now I too face a world in which I am bleeding. Time heals wounds but it also leaves scars, sutures and stitches emotional mars. I am his son, I am his legacy, I stand on his shoulders and now… well, let us see…

Thursday, February 10, 2011


I feel compelled to feel compelled to create but I don't feel compelled to create though I take gratification in its accomplishment.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

The Inebriates Confession

Please, please, please bring me to my knees one day, one day, one day I’ll be able to do it to do it to sing to be it to just be one with who I am and what I want to be so beautifully so beautifully so blissfully this, this right here this feeling this right what I need I bleed I need it just like this right now right here please Lord, please Lord, cut the cord, cut that cord that prevents me from being who I am and want to be why can’t I do it why can’t I why can’t eye why can’t ….. I don’t want it to be easy I want it to be me, I want to always feel like this, like an eternal union, eternal, eternal union this beat it brings it brings me bopr ttat head bop it bop it bop it … see where it takes you ….. intense intense wna dthen not so./.. the end.

Melodious machinery why can’t I be like you and just operate according to a players notes…. Why can’t I just bleat out sonorous song with the presence it brings without having to compose it all. Must be an instrument that feels the music it creates. I am but a fool who dreams of the impossible with reality beckoning to him but he ignores it into an imitative scene of breakings.

Convulsing, convulsing with the beat can you help it? They go, they, they go on, on and on without your permission… if It stopped you’d miss it…. I try to stop the beat but its passion weighs me, it weighs me, it weighs me up and down it takes me where I need to go but never want to be, in a moment it flows out on pages with wages of time to tell. To sell, to be with bell of all that’s wrong. Its siren is hiring those that want to bash it your skill if they they don t fnont fine you are they’re your own. Expectations hope who are you are you there? Magic boy? Just like the mold they create just like that clone they satiate. Go ahead delete your words as they come, they’re yours you can’t help it you know. They all wanna know as you as you sway and flow.

Pervasive tone …….one direction or another …. You have no brothers. It’s just you, you are all alone. No father no brother no one to see you as you are to relate to you on your own plane just to keep you sane to take you under their wing to help you sing to chirp out those tunes just like all the other loons. You, you are your own father, your own brother but what good are you? Especially when you can’t help but be blue? You antisocial pent up special you. You lust for love to bury yourself in but where has it gotten you. You sell yourself for some other girl some other twirl just to twist your mind and it’s not you and it’s not who you want to be. It’s just a touch, that girl on the train but you can’t help it but be more … you bury your head in your sages book in your tiny nook in your corner in your brain solace from what’s around you what confounds you what surrounds you and wants to be you. I’m a beast a beast a sacred beast that’s not too sacred crying out from inside to be a man yet looks like one. Fill your mind. Fill it up.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Your Presence is Requested

Torn between poles torn between holes
Torn between myself and the scroll
Hallowed being suffocating
Shallow being just negating
Bursting trapped inside this cage
Thirsting for the ceaseless rage
Trite and pleasant are the senses
Might a peasant take defenses
Plunge into another recess
Lunge at what one does profess
I can be that one of vision
Cast aside an indecision
Forethought, planning and design
Tools with which I can define
Time will tell which tasks remain
If I fail I stay the same
But should I thrive and do excel
That is my heaven’s release from hell

Sunday, September 12, 2010


The smoke ascends the alter, wayward sins we tend to falter
Sanctify dignify glorify – commitment to the divine system
Vice, depravity, immoral deeds – just an external symptom
The clutches the crutches the penetrating roots rotting the core
Abandoned, ashamed, set for confession – repent, repent once more
Enrobed in the purest of white masking the indications and implications
Mocking ourselves for we are the only ones subject to corporal subjugation
The crasses the masses the straying asses oh, woe unto our Holy Nation

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Sanctuary's Stream

The mother the monster the magnificent fish
I sought you I caught you I made you a dish
Dipped into cool waters and emerged as a man
Brought you to slaughter and fried in the pan
We battled for days but I knew where you lived
I saddled my instincts and I’d never forgive
As soon as we met I knew you were mine
So was my merit, that Sabbath we dined
As you roasted over those flames
I thought to myself, “Oh nature, I’ve tamed”
Primitively I slaved over a fire
Recognizing I can’t slake my desires
But at least if I catch one by the tail
Your precious roe will fail to prevail
And so it was in that running stream
I conquered a beast born of dreams

Wednesday, July 21, 2010


Frustrated, elated, the son is sedated
Woeful and burdened he lasts till his girders
They crutch him they hold him he reaches for something
He wastes, he creates, he self annihilates
Shatter the bondage that is the body
Burst the shell that is rotted and shoddy
Why can’t he do it – he must look within
Why can’t he escape the clutches of sin
His essence his kernel his infernal eternal
Marred and charred and bothered diurnal
Days just move on and the dreams taunt
An unconscious seam to the only true haunt
He is his enemy and no one else
He is to blame the eye of the self

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Why Be Tea?

Abandon the home of my mind The tomes lost their binds They wither they fall away Faded letters melody Imprint upon my DNA Sing songs in rhapsody Return to the grounds With the logical sounds My brethren do despair My souls in need of repair Go out and grow Sample the world With seeds to sow Wits a swirl A memory of ivory Stolen sensory It must return what was once spurned It must yearn what is learned A distant notion of devotion On lips of motion for sinful oceans On the cheeks of outlaws the meek the stout raw The girdled the roughened with wizened The hurdles of tough ones lies on My home do not go away lest I be led astray.