Posts Tagged ‘proetry’

The real question will always be,
whether there will ever be,
a re-collection of the mythical realization of life’s true miracles that reality manifests itself from?

All of us,
family in spirit,
carrying within,
an all-informing mythos that compels life to live.

We are not many cells,
with but one function,
co-existing in several bodies.

We are many cells,
in one body,
with different functions that give purpose to our existence.

We are easily dazzled by I-phones and nice cars,
like crows with shiny things;
every time we applaud such things,
we silently mourn the death of our spirit.

We must not measure the worth of a life with material standards.

A REAL love for your self will lead you to love others.

…ME thinks.

Let me be free
I’ll trade my cellphone & laptop
For a spear & loincloth
Let us go back
To those archaic times
Of tribal conflicts
& the great hunt
Let the buildings fall to ruin
The population dwindle
The bureaucrats lose their power
Strength & character are our GOD
Not material wealth

The boys of the Bear clan
We will run & stalk
As the girls of the Eagle clan
Gather & cheer
Our return to camp
With the great kill

No bills
No genetically modified diseases
No phony media monitoring


A shout breaks me from reverie. I’m sitting on a curb, covered in grease and grease burns.

HEY, what are you doing?
A cop shouts to me from his police car stopped three feet from the curb upon which I sit.

Waiting to go back into work. I’m on break.
But I want to say,
I’m working. I know it must seem strange to a public OFFICIAL such as yourself, that there are still some people who have to work at jobs that do not entail driving around in air-conditioned vehicles and harassing taxpaying citizens. Yes good sir, some of us have to work to pay for your pensioned salary.
But of course, I do not.

You got any identification?


He throws his car in park and his driver side door open. He grabs the door frame to help hoist his corpulent body out the vehicle.

Apex predators these days.

What It Is

Posted: May 27, 2013 in Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized
Tags: ,

I don’t know about you, but I just want to write. I don’t care about being the best or being better than any other writer out there. I only care that my art is as different as it can possibly be.

Things have changed since I started selling and promoting my work.

Talk about being buried alive behind enemy lines.

I remember the principal telling my mom, he is just disruptive to the system.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a kinder critique.

It is easier to follow a system. It is difficult to not lose your self in its midst.

I want people to recognize my work upon sight. I don’t mean merely by content; I mean visually. I am not a writer. I am an artist that writes.

God damn…

I feel like a cat with a silly owner that keeps putting me in stupid Christmas sweaters. I can’t run away because the sweater is too tight. I walk away like my legs are tied to planks. I shake my legs to attempt an escape from the sweater. Meanwhile, everyone is laughing at me and taking pictures.

All I’m saying is let me be a cat.

Awareness of past stupidity motivates change, but mind the cost of forsaking the future.

There is little wisdom found in losing sight of what is ahead of you, because you can not stop looking behind you.

Talk to salt about looking back.

For everyone that cannot accept this:

     lashing with apologies.

I left Sodom and Gomorrah a long time ago.

I am not looking back.

For if I change,who here will change their opinion of me?

A changing state’s most difficult aspect.
An aspect sitting heavily upon my chest.
Forcing the shallowest breaths.
Weighing down every decision.

Cut to bone with surgical precision.
The further this blade continues to sink,
to ease the pain I like to think,
it can never measure against the sadness, the broken promises amid the madness,
I spread through my bruised world.

The guilt from which leaves one unfurled.

One way or another, before we’re through;


I love my city and I every day I watch a little more of it burn away.

It’s said the world is a stage and I’m but an actor in a play.

I want a new disguise.

Tired of these tired-old lies.

But I am really happy for these guys.

A real show of hands.

Finding a way to profit under any type of circumstance.

And all the jobs this suffering creates.

Yeah… it’s great.

But people are dying here.

Bombarded with mongered fear.

With no clear destination.

But that is what happens when you let yourself be taxed without representation.

We nodded off at the wheel.

We missed out on the new deal.

We got kicked in the gut.

But now we’re waking up.

Little by little returning to grace.

It took us awhile to develop a different style of syntax to articulate this new kind of treachery being perpetrated upon the human race.

Thieves nailed next to Jesus.

They got us.

Slaves in a machine.

We’ve been sold our own dreams.


Enjoy it for it won’t happen again.

Everyday a few more thieves are raised from the dead.

My book ZENspeak is about many different things; but really, it is about one thing with many faces.

It is about war. Not traditional war, but the psychological war we wage on ourselves. It is about private prisons, economic slavery, betrayal, and lost loves. All of these issues stem from one dirty word that no one dares speak of, addiction. You barely breathe the word addiction, and the gears automatically start turning in an individual’s mind to justify how they aren’t one. Some honestly believe that they are above this word.

Corporate interests have built America upon addiction. Whether we choose to realize it or not, this is happening. We have sports addicts, junk food addicts, celebrity gossip addicts, and pharmaceutical addicts. We live in a commercial enterprise based upon addiction.

You need what we got and if you don’t get it, you’re a freak of nature.

Do a social experiment one day. Turn on the T.V. at any time of any day and watch a couple of commercials.

Take a toothpaste advertisement for example,
Fade in:
A man walks into what appears to be a job interview and shakes the interviewer’s hand. The narrator tells us that first impressions are everything. That our smiles are the first things a person sees when they meet us. That if we do not have a particular toothpaste we will have an ugly smile and no one will like us. The commercial, in a span of mere seconds, shows us an array of first encounters involving the main character. Every single one of these people is so damn happy to meet this guy with the great smile. A shot of this man’s wife hugging on him and his kids hanging on him is the cap of the commercial. Everyone is having a hell of time and the commercial gives one the impression that it is all due to this toothpaste. Yeah, no one finds a mouth full of rotting teeth attractive, but the product placement is shameless.
Fade out.

If you didn’t really need the products before you started using them, you will really need them after you do. I remember using acne creams when I was a teenager. If I stopped using them, the acne came back worse than before. The same goes for nasal spray.

It seems like a harmless little thing. And alone it is. However, it builds into a conglomeration that attacks the psyche every waking moment.

That is America. As long as you are good on the outside, there is little worry about the inside. But I didn’t come here to write about toothpaste and acne cream.

ZENspeak is about looking inward and facing the beast that is manipulating true worth. The beast that has somehow found a way to profit from suffering and has left us desolate and vicarious.

The battleground is in the characters’ minds. In that sense, the main character is both the protagonist and the antagonist. The war waged on the self. But that does not explain the whole story either. This may be a battle fought in the battleground of the mind, but we have been coerced into this battle. Kind of like a government that sells arms and ammunition to a population, only to declare war on that population after they are armed and using the new-found stockpile of weapons as validation for the invasion.

ZENspeak deals with this insanity.

It took us awhile. We had to develop a different type of syntax to express this new treachery being perpetrated on the races of the earth.

Many people dismiss my subject matter because of the drugs and the critical examination of postmodern democracy. This is no glorification; rather, these words stem from consternation. The intention of this book is not anti-American. It is an attempt to save the America that bureaucratic-hypocritical-political legislation has wrapped in chains.

If you like your art hermetically homogenized and pasteurized by the same format as what it follows, this is definitely not your kind of book.

The other day I was reading another author’s blog when I came across a fabulous quote form Anton Chekhov, I do not remember the quote verbatim but I will attempt a paraphrase:
A writer does not write answers, he writes questions.

This reminded me of something I just wrote a week ago:
I can’t speak for other writers, but all I do when I write is paint observations; of the world I’ve been through, the world I’m in, and the world I hope to live in. It is like seeing a horrible event and taking a picture so people will know this event really happened. However, when some people see the photograph they get mad at the photographer instead of the event he photographed. I just paint; I wish I had the answers. Suppose that is why we have science and religion.

America is all about shooting the messenger these days.