Tuesday, August 31, 2010


embodiment of soul-collision
has arisen from the precision
of my mis-managed decisions,
too many times i made the booty quake
with the familiarity of a hand shake,
never thought to do it for love's sake,
but, what's love anyway, hombre?
nothing more than emotional souffle!
so don't let that admixture
become a fixture
on your dinner plate,
keep them shady ladies a la carte,
where they should've been from the start,
instead, they became the only item on the menu,
but, instead of ordering them they ordering you,
so, turn around,
affix that crown,
'tis better to be profane than profound,
and deafened by the sound
of their heart hitting the ground:


Monday, August 30, 2010

Untitled....(to be continued)

on this day recognize the raising of my brow against your subtle, demeaning humor. understand that  the look on my face is disgust and distaste. you are incredibly, utterly and most especially ludicrous. apparently you're under the impression that your notions on life, inherited you prestige and honor among the common man in some sort of predefined hierarchy you, yourself have created. an illusion to top delusions. a freak of nature resting at ease in the uncomfortable silences of the denounced and emotionally detained creatures you confine as cretins casting them aside as unimportant, resolute and destitute of intelligent thoughts. you sink in your stink and think it smells like roses you poser. posting your stench on the wrenching of the soul. smells like gene smearin'. disenchanting spirits in the circumfrence of curses, dark nights and crimson sonnets. slinging mud like a pitcher outta hell playing the fields of dirty laundry and smriks and crappy attitudes. rude. dishonest. cheap shooter. shister. shady commuter like lightless tunnels in subways lost on new world developments. unending. bending the spine in search of what's never yours and only others, you make "mine". greedy. seedy sooth sayer looking like sweet, but sounding like snakes slithering hither and there impairing the judgement of those who want to love and never freeze, but have froze. posed......to be continued

be peace


Tuesday, August 3, 2010


Form-fitting, from the crack of dawn to the cracked mirrors, the ones from the "before times..."

When all it takes is whimsically perserveranced prayers, and meeting my maker half-way,

these things work out.

Some may say a whole bunch of shit about it, but those who stand true, aligned, and awake,

will continue to give props.

And may the props flow circular, connecting and raising the consciousness of the warm...

infecting the cold and the calous ones with our sickness of grace and compassion...

well, gratitude can apparently transform a tough guy convict bad-ass loud mouth, trash-talkin', judgementally-inclined type-casting pigeon holing, elitist fuckin wannabe music snob...

...into a real poet again.

Thank you Spoken Views, I'll come back around soon, stronger and cleaner than before