Sunday, October 2, 2011



I have an idea
A text message poem
Hey, maybe I can get a friend from back home to write it with me
It’s fun to remember the past
I went golfing today on a weed lollipop he broke the club
I listen to old songs I love in the car now to relive the past, but it’s a past that when in the present was bad, why do I want to relive it then?
I think I love my life now but I'm still lacking a little or maybe that's’s sure better than what it used to be
I read old poets and recommend old writers to my good friends
I think I read them and recommend them because it is cool when they're sort of just like you or you get inspiration off them making the same mistakes as you, or you feel like making, and then just think for a second that you can be like that and maybe someone will read your stuff
I miss dreaming but then again I have a dog and a turtle now and never in a million years did I think I would
I'm afraid that one day I won't and all ill want to do is get wasted and dream about that...
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

When I die bury me in boots of Spanish leather

Slab of steel under a weightless body
Eyes chalked white like hard boiled eggs

Light from above tungsten leaving skin steel-gray
Still unmoved unfelt unknown

Known wanting to be known
Known realizing being known

Wearing these boots of Spanish leather
Standing on destitute land
Wanting to fly up up up and away

As the night turns to day
she leaves and I feel so unfulfilled

I shower the night off of me and feel nothing
I don’t even want to look in the mirror

I disgust myself on these long winter nights
As the day turns back to night
I drink what leads me to the place I hate
Will I end up there tonight?
I can’t trust myself...


Archetypes of a generation lost
Reborn and still completely misunderstood
Generations who give the key to are dreams out like a piece of candy for free
So busy being born watch those around us keep trying...
Dying to make it. What is making it?

A generation who found the voice
A generation who has the tone 
A generation educated beyond the collage walls

Educated by the VOICE of the misunderstood
Who never let go of that dream
The ones who will make those dreams come true 
I call this US
Reading Ginsburg’s Howl 
Listening to Dylan’s Hard Rain
A generation that loves 
A generation that questions
The only ones out of many who have missed the executioners face
Reflecting WE onto today’s generation
Who knows if those sitting behind their expensive desks Wearing their expensive suits like signs of class
We a generation that knows the so called masters will never know
The US

Eye filled with tears
Burgundy blood flowing over waterfalls
Heart torn from its home to make me weak
Rise above this tortured existence
Falling, Failing to see the dust carried selfless
Wind blows over me cooling the burned sole of love lost
Violence crawls through my veins yearning to be let go
Pretending to be something not self
Just waiting to be who I am
Match sticks staked one by one statue on table tops

Judged by loved ones heavy hand
Don't believe lies recorded spoken
Written messages carried on ships
Sunken treasures not yet received

Los Angeles

The photographer

I've mastered my machine stance and light
The lense focus and my clinched index finger judge truth
Perfect imperfection and an image to preside

I am a photographer I am a thief
I am a photographer I am a thief

No one has captured your story before?
Do you mind if I steal a moment of your time?
Adjust my apature I find history in your eyes

I am a photographer I am a thief
I am a photographer I am a thief

I take a moment to reload and your vulnerability subsides
My muse this angle isn't working another time I suggest
There is no more magic...I reframe to a prettier face

I am a photographer I am a thief
I am a photographer I am a thief

Here you are again comfortable and unshy as the first
Your clear heart clings to me pleading for a click or two more
Now I  have captured your soul...our time as run its course!

I am a photographer I am a thief
I am a photographer I am a thief

You are a thief
You are a thief


Off the beaten path
Unconventional wisdom
Compared to gonzo woody creek

Living as to say education is not taught It’s born
Born into this

Drinking all night sleeping with whores going to classes
Filled lies told to youthful ladies whose friends bought by money not their own
to get laid

Pawns in games along Tennessee Street
Buying pieces of art with ants walking across empty canvas

Off the beaten path
Unconventional wisdom
Rick Danko’s "stage fright"
Standing up there with all his might

3/8/08 10pm

I drink two for one at a restaurant I used to work at in college
A restaurant I used to share laughs with friends at
I drink two for one alone now

I talk to friends and family and loved ones and assure them I'm ok
I sneak off in pockets of time to stay awake alive

A new one tugs on his jersey and an old one hangs it up

-Over thinker
-Scared about my dad
-Scared of no money
-Scared of no freedom
-Scared of no one caring
-Scared of getting old
-Looking for something to wake up to
-Lack of a new goal
-Can't get out of my own head
-Becoming lazy in life
-Hate being inside the house
-Caring about what used to be fun things, aren't fun anymore
-My time has shifted and I can't find the balance
-It's hard to be happy for too long

-I wait for shit to go wrong
-It's hard to enjoy the moment and when I finally try to appreciate it – it's gone
-I think I'm starting to understand myself a little better and I really don't like what I see sometimes down at the core.
-I can't see even a fork in the road so I don't even have a choice or an option for a path, and it's been like this for a while
-I really do appreciate everything in life – this is just where I'm at now
-My pen screams for me to write in pain
-I can't share my inner thoughts
-Scared to write them on paper cause people will hate me
-I haven't earned the fun I try to have


I don’t want to write today
Find the formula
Empty the tank

I want to keep my hair long now cause I think people expect me to shave it
I’m at a loss I feel stale

I’m in my own head too much and it’s causing me to make really fucking bad
I write a page or two and can’t finish an idea or a thought and I’m drawn into the laziness of my past Accomplishments
Or what I think are accomplishments
I have no goal in front of me and without that I’m in deep shit.

Eggs in the morning subs and your brown Thunderbird
The first one ever made
Dog tracks quenelles boxed and tobacco heal me
Old hands hold the shaking newspaper
I hate being inside a house but I have no money and no one that wants to adventure out with me anymore – My dad says not to get old – well,
I’m fucking trying not to

The 17th

Thousands of miles between us
Highways lost soles
Truck stops lonely hearts graced by your glowing light
Sailed away on the 16th loves strings tested carrying you back to me
one day.
Yes there is something you can send back to me
The times we once had will come again

Optimism blinded by doubted sin
Pessimist by nature
Head twisted with fears that will come true if I let them
Trash cans filled by our blind faith
hammers, paint brushes, boxes, tape guns, folded clothes fill our house
empty it will soon be

House Empty filled with one
Me and only I left to pick up what was not

It’s ok Its alright
It’s me you know
The one who is always left to pick up

Lay Lady Lay playing in the back round
Those words mean so much and always will
Kelly I love you and always will

My new place feels like it's going to be an environment to work on my brain

I know odd you might have to see it
It's like an empty brain that is about
to get filled and educated

A door way to enlightenment and I found it
It's a locale that has already been blessed by greats

Soon our footsteps will walk the walk and talk the talk

Ended up getting a place on Dudley and Pacific
The Beats of Southern Cal

Hung out and worked
This I did not know

Till someone told me
I'm not kidding at all

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