 
### Teflon Piñata

Attila Maddox

Copyright © 2013 Attila Maddox

Cover images by crockerJ.com and NASA.

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Table of Contents

January, 2011

June, 2011

July, 2011

August, 2011

September, 2011

October, 2011

November, 2011

December, 2011

January, 2012

February, 2012

March, 2012

April, 2012
January 29, 2011

VALIDATING MY TICKET

Today had been like any other day of late. 3:00 p.m. and I was out of work and on my way home. As I walked to the hotel parking lot, I looked across Storrow drive and the Charles River, to the city of Cambridge, Harvard and M.I.T. all of them, rising in their glory, every smokestack billowing, every hungry seagull, every passing face, all meshing together like a puzzle nearing its completion. Some people call this the "Center of the Universe," I wonder if those people really know who their landlord is?

Heading into the parking garage, my senses perked up, not far in front of me, a young man with dark olive skin, and jet black hair, he was wearing a black trench coat and had a skull cap pulled down tight, we looked at each other and one quick glance told me there was no love between us, he began rapid fire texting. Moving past him, I felt the hair on my back raised up as my body started pulsing and firing, like a website under attack.

As I walked to the second level, it was quiet, too quite and way empty. I surveyed every inch around me in 360 degrees, nothing. I had the feeling this was not looking good for me at all. At 20 yards a voice inside my head told me, this could be it, you might die here today, a car bomb, someone in the shadows. I don't know at this point, but I feel something's going to go down. But after all that's my job, to feel the serious shit, to work outside the lines and get to places no one else can.

Getting closer to the car I became consumed with an overwhelming surge of adrenaline, I hit the remote, one press, two presses...Fuck! It's not working. As I got to the car I stood there for a moment, my mind spiraling with pictures of how this thing was going to blow, My body running on heavy voltage, should I do it, could I do it, fuck it, be a man, turn the key. What would my pieces look like, what kind of mess would I leave behind.

Hey, how much more intense could anything possibly get, I was playing Russian roulette, another torture test, on the edge of anything and in that moment I needed to free myself and accept my fate, to either live or die, totally adrenalized. Reaching for the door I could feel my pupils expand as everything became magnified, slowly, I put the key in the lock and turned it. Once again there was a moment when everything went black for a split second, no impact, no bomb, just another breath tasted.

But now, sitting in the driver's seat staring at my hand and the key, laughing, and telling myself, "You gotta bite it sometime" as I watch both move onward in slow motion to meet the ignition switch, every inch closer became a thousand needles stabbing into my body, all shouting out, "live or die, live or die, live or die"! Screw it, I'll take that bet, and never look back.

Yeah, I was dual universe again. I had become a chrome tank with an adrenaline spike through its heart, impenetrable and unstoppable. For a few seconds I just sat and let the engine idle, as the rush of events washed over me. I knew I was seriously in play and all those pieces of the puzzle I had watched come together, were now strewn into the air and everything had become a free-for-all.

Driving down to ground level, the young man was standing between the elevator and hotel door. We looked at each other and he started rapid fire texting again. I parked my car and said "Fuck this, I'm gonna plow right through this shit" as I approached him

At the lobby door, I knew from instinct he was another tech. spy, so I decided to get close to him, close enough to lock retinas, close enough to let him feel the animal oozing out from within me, the thump from my chest, the energy I was projecting into his disdain. Yeah, I made him and he knew it, Corporate Espionage, there are never any calluses on those fuckers and you can always smell the fear when you tag one of them up, especially outside their comfort zone.

I gave him enough time to tell his boss, I was more real than he'd imagined, definitely more than he'd been told, working in area's where heads can severe and roll, slipping between the curtains of an unseen world, players and pawns on a board of indefinable boundaries, taking up residence in the spaces between our faces, a zone that knows no protocol.

Inside the hotel I passed him off to the concierge and the cleaning crew, I smiled as they joked about never being off the clock, Once again, I validated my ticket like always and put the ultimate firewall back in place.

Its 3:15p.m.

Wow, man... I could really use a beer right now!

~ ~ ~

BEHIND A STEEL CURTAIN

Have you ever thrown something into the garbage and then had to rummage through it just to get it back, now covered in crap? Sucks doesn't it?, That's kind of what it's like when I walk through a revolving turnstile of reality and illusion, and find myself at times questioning what is real and what isn't. It's an exhausting thing at times trying to figure out how I'm going to navigate those terrains with both sides of me fighting, pulling, and sucking me back into their vacuum, rolling me around, and then spitting me back out like a fucking rag doll. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose and some days, one is way better than the other. Yeah, that's right, sometimes illusion is a whole lot better than reality, I just need to make sure I leave the door open so I can make it back home.

Sometimes prose, poetry and lines are written on "dream days" or from places outside myself, totally manic-depressive, hallucinogenic and /or a little paranoid, I tried to trace the words and images of the days in an attempt to build a puzzle that might still be missing a few pieces.

Some of the entries are coming from a state of mind so far out there that I refer to it as hyper- mania, beyond the point of standard mania, and with that said I can only attempt to give you the best possible insight. Some rhyme and reasoning may not be found at all, but that's exactly how I want to present my writing, in true illness and in true health. And give a different perspective from a place most people will never see. A place they can only dare let their imagination go.

Larvae

standing stoically

boxed inside himself

the man....

caught in a moment of a day

splitting the sunlight and grey clouds

fighting for time and control

in a moment of everything

on a day of irrelevance

the windows of his world

now narrowed

through,

a dark dungeon peephole

he watches with micrometry

mesmerized by the fly

on his thought table

the one he eats at

the coffee rings

across it's pine top

the fly, its haphazard forage

bouncing, and staggered

in the pretzel crumbs,

and cigarette ash

scattered about

like a moat

around a castle

of heavy dose

a prisoner....

in fix, and fixation

nimbly creeping

towards the door

a swatter hangs,

as executioner

held...

in heavy breath

nerves are steadied

the rush contained

again, and again

the battle axe swats

he counts his kill

in hieroglyphics

his head mirrors

the oozing yellow,

and green guts

married,

in the red blood wine

in fast forward...

Its eggs become maggots

from death, comes life

inching across

the dirty table top

the man, morphs alpha

his hand, steady again

the work now done

he holds restraint

not to kill

what he's himself

has become

Looking back on that day, I was standing still, just staring out the window, unable to decide if I should move or not, like a bar of cold steel, left in the oily grime and metal chips of a dirty, abandoned, foundry floor. And in that dim light, I felt like I was living pre-perestroika.
June 1, 2011

10 . . . 4321

Escape

If my words and thoughts are out of place

Scattered or just plain wrong

I am everything I say in living proof

In this moment, I am attempt.

to break the halves and partials of starts and stops,

to capture the lingering thoughts of piercing fracture

into something whole and complete

but as each stroke tells me

there's another not done somewhere else

anywhere but here and now

~ ~ ~

MINOR LEAGUE HUNGRY...

Growing up I never thought I would ever have to worry about having a job or going to bed hungry, but I've lived through both those things. The truth of it all is, right now there are a few cans in the cupboard I just don't like the pictures on the labels, and that thread of luxury serves as a reminder there are far too many people worse off than me.

Three-slice pie

a hand

wipes across a bathroom mirror

the floss meat and blood

are swiped away

only the trailing residue

waits on its fate

tooth and nail

a cruising thought

the page, my sight

oozing

through the stains and glass

into a pressed-pulp atmosphere

we are letters shared,

like soup and spoons

in homeless camps

beyond the blunt force trauma,

our distance irrelevant

the pages, our eyes

two sets wrestle in thoughts

to the threads of travel

in a dance floor tango,

the sweat and want

the tugging desires

our bones, the burning lights

into the catacombs of anything,

endless faces seeking imagery

dispersing into hidden particulates

pictures of unpainted magnitudes

living, eating transparently

stolen away in restaurant buffets

how many items can be squashed onto a trailer park plate

or stuffed in a secret take home pocketbook

chasing the images of our thought reflection,

without remotes

channel to channel

instantaneously,

in complete wonder

and retinal recognition

both clutching the spectrum

of subliminal inferences

in semi-, full- or part- time vibe

we could melt, we could merge

we could momentarily

become one...

between these pages

staring at each other

staring into our complexities

our nuances...

like a three slice pie

stranded on a four plate table

waiting for calculators

waiting for fingers

waiting for outcomes

and only our energies emit

the second sight

the doorways beyond logic

where the signs read

enter or leave

four or two

Eyes... not pie!

As a toddler I rambled freely, so much so that I was put into a harness, and tied to a tree in the yard, and even with those restraints, I still managed to escape!
June 2, 2011

CLIMBING THE LADDER

When I sat down to write this entry, I was thinking about the sun and what a healing affect it has on me. A natural drug at times, intensely euphoric, and just like a tornado, hurricane, once the conditions exist and I combine certain "triggers", alcohol, drugs, no meds. Etcetera, the next level can reach a category four storm, Mania.

Sonic Cycling

9:57

Moving at the speed of an F-15

seeing in fast forward

a break between the synapse and neurons

now I'm crashing down

up again...staring at the floor

the woven rug

a thousand stories told

a distant land, a child's hand

the weave tells me so

a good day had, the patterns' true

through its fluctuations...

a little more unfolds

down again to run another race

a different place this time...

a slower mile walked

10:02

Catatonic momentarily...

the war rages on

a million thoughts I try to grasp

to tame the beast

from feasting

a full time job

but shit,

I only like to work part-time

a hypothalamic compromise

10:12

I like the edge

This was a written in full rapid cycling. In the past, when in that state, I would write in a manic fury and actually time myself. Granted, most of it was shit, but it gave me insight into the thought process when traveling at that speed.

~ ~ ~

Solid Encryption

I've watched you watch for so long

the box, its status degraded

always a clue

when recorded TV paces you

in the darkest hours

or the sunning footsteps

of undetermined fate

pulsing time and shutter frames

clock the eyes of insects

then the power is at its greatest

pushed to limits few will know.

And you...

wishing to ride the galaxy

sent from unknown origins

scribbled and note taking

staring into the abyss of an eye

your perplexity fueled me.

We tasted thoughts

in unspoken tongues

the silent wind before you

witness to another place.

Buried deep inside a book

the next dimension waits

these words will be the death of me

from those who will never see "it."

It moves so fast

a quantum leap

through gravitational pulls

unseen magnetic fields

it's then the stars align

all others left behind.

To live and breathe

among the wreckage

others tripping....

to the outer limits.

A mysterious path set ablaze

rockets in the sky

voraciously climbing

to watch it all

in fast- forward clicks

what do you see?

or can you see?

there the questions lay

swimming in the white noise

the conductors at play.

Firing off again

moving shit around

hiding in receptors

neurons, synapses supercharged

become universes.

The atom smasher in your head

marching to the beats

another clue...

Bees around the hive

their speed multiplied by x

now look...

what has redefined itself

becomes a shroud

random chaos and acceleration

bleed together...

The only way to describe the speed my mind was racing at, it's like my body has been dropped in the middle of two worlds running parallel and I'm trying to navigate the terrain. Pain and fear are generally absent; I had to really learn how to handle the intensity.

Once I'd been there a number of times I started start to see the patterns emerge; although finding the power to reel it in is a daunting challenge, the brain wants what it wants, and the body tends to follow.

The mind-blowing heights of mania, Heaven and Hell French- kissing between the breakups of one extremely dysfunctional relationship, the climaxes are unforgettable like erotic asphyxia, the fear, the adrenaline rush of feeling on the edge of death, for some it will lead to an intense euphoria, for others, an apocalyptic nightmare.
June 3, 2011

I DON'T SET GOALS...

That's a lie. I do, but I also go into it knowing that 50 percent of my attention span will abandon me before I reach any chance in obtaining the expectation or goal I've set. And as I say this, I know my brain is taking bets for and against the completion of this writing.

Even sitting here and knowing this of myself, I will struggle the whole journey.

Whatever it is you need to accomplish or change, just move forward one step at a time, and make a note to yourself with each stride, "That's not so hard. Tomorrow I will go one step further, one step forward." One day you'll wake up and realize progress has been made, probably more than expected.

~ ~ ~

Who Knows Why?

All the love, hate, ecstasy and anger poured into one glass like a sailboat, on an angry sea searching for its mast and when the sea subsides, a slower less frenetic pace prevails It's good no matter how the sea calls out, in heavy rumbling taunts, tempting fate or a steady breath under perfect skies, each moment is a part of the whole, a part of me, and to run from any or all would be to hide...

Why the goose bumps on your skin, my senses tells me why, why the shadows that never stay to talk and fill the glass again. The basement where my thoughts wander, life poured into a 19 inch monitor, will it always be in exile? The moods that jockey for attention circumventing restraint so they may find life on some page, rambling on about brains spilled onto street corners, backseats, and kitchen floors, the grey matter I don't want to taste, touch, or feel on certain days, pledging never to run naked through my mind, so many things, so many ways, so many words yet unfound.

Questions always itching from triangles, to quadrants, to cardboard boxes in unison with every insect on the planet and all the dirt between tile joints, politicians, and Wall Street crooks, and the list goes on. So do I care, or why do I care, and all that lies between caring! Who knows why I do, Do you?
June 4, 2011

ON THE TRADING BLOCK

The intensity of hallucination combined with a dose of paranoia, and some serious energy ripping through your body, a lethal combination for some, definitely not for the faint of heart. It tests your inner strength, your chi, your will to live and fight through something that defies all rationality, the breath- by- breath struggle, which might not let you enter back into reality, thus leaving you vanquished to the point of no return.

Vortex Pipeline

we sat in silence watching TV

a borrowed bed

a soul relinquished

liquid, transparent, and hovering

privy to every whisper, every thought

a book, a page turned over

fighting to hold ground

from the insanity

witnessed in sacrifice

the Olympic flame put to rest

the torch moved on

a stadium in trance

primordial at core

and like a madman preacher

returning for pennies not spent

in the pockets of robes and sneakers

their heads already sponged

in spaceship prayer

watching a shadow

bought and sold

by blood, for ?

a pack sent out to hunt

all in play, bar none

the richest men not seen or heard

trampling horses on polo grounds

their riders swatting rolling heads

all slave to "it"

the darkest robe

across the grayest mist

beck and call

the order kneels

mountains, rivers

desert sands, and seas

released only through dreams

without emotion

there is no extinction

to pray for

only guard

the senate

the two headed beast

kings and queens

all flush

all flow through

to "its" alter

to "its" center

to be defined

"it" is the unknown

the space between two worlds

in particle and light

no soul hides from sight

real truth is revealed

"it"... the vortex pipeline

holds infinite possibility

Thanks lady, for picking up the option on my contract.

That poem originated while I was watching the closing ceremonies of the winter Olympics. As the Olympic flame was being put out, I watched a woman come floating down into the stadium whispering "Thank you, John" while the audience sat mesmerized in robes. It felt like I was being released, traded from one world to another, some other higher form of intelligence beyond anything definable and I was only a witness to the negotiations. Trapped between two worlds and trying to rationalize any side of it all.

That was, one of the most incredible moments I've ever had, definitely mind bending. Walking in but not of this world, out of body and every person, every action became fluid, at that moment I was fearless and fearful of my own spectacle.

This is a world of the unseen, riding in the vortex of time, what I call the ghost walk. The danger zone of hallucination and paranoia, the best possible way to explain this is...You're in "Gumby land."

As kids, we had "Gumby's" to play with, they're a green, rubber figure covering a piece of wire, and you could contort it into multiple positions. How much twisting, stretching, bending, and torque could you handle all at once, and come out of it intact per se? It's, a Shit storm, dead serious!
June 5, continued...

Gosnold Street Dig

out back, an asphalt squeeze lot

the old tenement

3 floors of story

the lot crevassed,

our wrinkles shared

cinderblocks battled and bulging

to retain its industrial soil

vacant spaces and broken windows

rehearsal moves

for projected scenario's

chain smoked cigarettes

hot and smoldered

the glow between the tips of my fingers

from the pain grows strength

feet cry for rationality

while...

pit bulls and circumstances

wander the sidewalks

of angry thought

hockey masks on

pedestrians

hiding their fear

across the street

once was Norton company

now Saint Gobain

its laundry stains the local pubs

the suds spilled into streets

cab rides and crack houses

do daytime deals

stop and drop

one shoelace away

all reminders it's urban

it's war...

four ghosts painted

on the picket fence out back

the tagger, the message

the postage returned

burner phones

for a no- trace neighborhood

scattered and crunched

on the sidewalk corners

firewood for a smarter play

seconds are minutes

when tasting time

there's a spotter

top floor, right

his dog clock

traces the rhythms

of faces and feet

one click on

two clicks off

one click, two clicks

three clicks, four

sirens, house fires, hustles

trains talking all night

home for now

hell for some

outcast and exiled

manic and pulsing

the drags are deeper now

waiting for the ghosts

and clocks to stop

chasing my bones

lurking...

At the time I wrote that, I was living in a triple deck apartment, sleeping on a pull out couch. I spent quite a bit of time in the back parking lot chain smoking and watching every bit of hustle in the neighborhood. All the ins and outs I had learned growing up.

The stuff they don't teach in school...Survival

~ ~ ~

OFF THE BEATEN PATH

In 1984 I rode a bicycle from San Diego, CA. to Nyack, New York traveling through the Southwest, Deep South and up the Atlantic coast my route was about 3,600 miles or so, Not until then had I begun to realize just how big and diverse this country is and when you add the enormity of it all, along with the characters you encounter, it's an experience that never leave's your memory. I've always been able to travel off the beaten path and tend to find myself in places a lot of people never get to go or would want to end up, And in a place like New Orleans, the sky's the limit. Thank god, there weren't any chains around.

The Dungeon

Swallowed by hurricane madness

years before Katrina arrived

on crooked stone cobble

through winding skinny streets

rolling with the bums

the wine, a spit shared reward

for a tumbled drunken roll

disguised as a master break out

proof that street deeds lend cred.

bound and tested in unspoken terms

priests and parasites tugged on arms

between the shots of rum

stumbled dancing skeletons

through unmarked alleyways

to the brown wood door

all in full ignorance

turned the knob into darkness

tequila, the fire in oblivion

our fuel and repellent

toxic skin frozen in vampire eyes

leering onward waiting for a devil to dance

the man himself...

his hair, hip waste, and possibly a noose

an aura of transfixing blackness chained

around the wayward souls now ghosting his world

so wasted, so reckless, alley cat strays

untamed in fearless energy

pulsing through and beyond his mythical trance

somewhat amused...

he shed his guard, his hunt

there was no play, no victims

no chance this night

our identities, our origins shared

by chance or design the same

a mill city on the Connecticut River

famous for shad, asparagus, and cigar leaves

his questions followed with tequila, winks, and madness

at night's end, came dawn's wither

our receipt...

a slum room hangover

and a $64 towing charge

I've flown around most of the country over the years, driven a car across a couple of times, but when your peddling, you pound the ground, every push, every mile is lived, and counted, and it's the space between places, the arteries pumping blood to the heart, the real deal, the local and the loco!
June 5, 2011

THE PENTHOUSE PLEASE...

2002, this was the year of officially being diagnosed as bi-polar. Like clockwork every fall was the start seasonal depression so my doctor put me on some mood elevators and steadily I rode those fuckers to the roof. Mania...

The pace I was running at was frenetic, hardly any sleep, Non stop, I needed to be moving and occupied, text book shit. My friends were taking turns baby sitting me, but they were dropping like flies It became too much, and way too scary for them, when you get that high you have no fear, you're numb to pain or any real feeling and you take serious risks, like driving totally fucked up at high rates of speed. Sex, drugs, rock and roll baby, I'd take anything, and as much as my body could handle without overdosing.

Caged up

inside four walls

the rooms are so white

they say

still, I couldn't tell you

either way

with both eyes open

the windows

are the prison

down the hall

echoed screams of

a girl, as she begs

for a cigarette

in another time,

another place

I'd whip one out

but that me,

is off the grounds

somewhere

between mercury,

and cinderblock

the walking guards

are marching

towards a clamp down

the sights

the sounds

the smells

are a hovering

of nasty,

and rubbing alcohol

the pulsing race

of thought

only knows

one way

escape

The first time I was hospitalized, within an hour, I had a girl tell me I was the devil, and then, I watched the staff sedate her, and lock her in her room. That my friends, will wake your ass up rather quickly, and at that point, I realized I wasn't in Kansas anymore!

Without sounding too negative or demeaning towards mental health facilities, I would just say, ask anyone who's worked in that environment, they will tell you, things can turn ugly at any moment.
June 8, 2011

THE SEVENTH SENSE, COMMON SENSE!

Personally, I try to hold on to it as much as I can, but it doesn't always want to stick around for very long.
June 10, 2011

HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT

I hadn't been to the beach in a couple of years, and I had forgotten how much I enjoyed it, along with other activities. That's a common theme in depression, mental illness, it's an upside-down pyramid, at the top, is your beginning, a world of numerous possibilities. As you get sucked into the vacuum of illness and addictions, you find a way to cast everything aside, you might think you're on top but you've narrowed your world to a sharp point, no one's standing beside you, you're isolated. That might sound a little fucked up, but that's the way I view it.

In my mind, and I'm sure it's the same for others; it's a way of simplifying things so you can cope. But this is what will eat you alive. Now you're stuck, you don't want to move. You're in quicksand, for me, I need prodding from friends and family to get moving, do something, but even then I have to dig down and force myself to move, and sometimes when I find myself not wanting to do certain activities or social stuff, I have to remind myself not to isolate.

But as I've said before, once your brain has created a pathway of least resistance you're always going to have to keep an eye on the negative tendencies, Personally, I have to work at this all the time, to fight through it! I don't always win, but I continue to get better at recognizing the patterns.

Sun Stroke

i see you....

a perfect sun

in perfect sky

as rolling waves

etch the shore

kissing a rainbow

of fashion faux pas

little kids....

in surf shirts chasing

freckles and Tonka trucks

unaware

that time is pacing them

while mom and dad discuss

their chick lings

with copasetic optimism

distracted from

their original origins

10 yards past....

gently rocking bikini legs

turn pages of paperbacks

filled with passionate men

riding stallions

are their thoughts mine?

my girl....

sea blue eyes

her bumps all tanned up

skin salty like a margarita

my wants are home

our bed, our bounce

to lick the salt from her body

with tepid tongue

and drink in

the ecstasy

I always dive in with the thought this could be my last time. Sun is good!
June 13, 2011

ADDICITIVE AND ADDICTION

When you have addictive tendencies, you can end up anywhere. I sustained an injury and took some Percocet for the pain, Man, I loved those things. Five years later, I was still woofing them down like candy. I wrote this while I was cycling off my opiate addiction. At the time I was going, "cold turkey".

Cycle Off

to some a mystery

others an experiment

in cerebral bondage

take your pick

pain will partner

tangled in poison

no one wants to sleep

with rain on their sheets

to run in retreat

back into darkness

always searching the laundry

one more time

cycle off...

it's cold

but you can't feel

beyond the bottles cap

you're sick

but not terminal

the pleasure sought

the lies

cycle off...

again

the hours of chase

beat your soul to brick

pace to pace

worn down like old shoes

brain and body

tattered like attic newspaper

cycle off...

whispers from behind

come again...calls back

a war within

skeletal boundaries

the rain still stains

the room

you lose your soul in

breaths drawn deeper

every second...

death rows decision

regurgitates

no street signs navigate

no friends allowed

maybe...

sunshine cracks through

the blackest bile

tempting...

the seed of rebirth

If you were wondering, I often use the word "You", in self-descriptive context? It's because I get sick of listening to all of the, I, I and the Me, Me, plus that's often the way I speak in the real world, but In literary terms, that's considered poor grammar on my part, so I guess what I'm trying to say is, in unconventional terms, I'm committed to being, You, us, and human.
June 14, 2011

LONG HAUL

Jay, is my son's buddy, diagnosed bi-polar at twenty or so, I've attended many classes in psych and rehab, and I've often felt some sadness for the young kids that have so many obstacles to overcome in their futures, relationships, work, all that shit.
June 15, 2011

Hey Jay, This parts for you...

Do you have a thousand thoughts running through your mind? Do you find yourself questioning everything and nothing? Do you get down because you've been diagnosed with something that stays with you for the rest of your life? I know we have similar tendencies, and that you can get to the very high side of mania. And my question to you is, after all the meds are taken, and you're alone, do you still find yourself cycling up/down through the day?

We didn't really talk about that, but it's a question I would ask. I know we laughed about the crazy shit that happens when you reach cruising speed, but what about your lows?

How bad does that get for you?

Remember what I told you, Be careful when you party with friends always be aware of you're high, it's not the same as theirs, "The way your wired gets you higher"

Let me tell you about some of the "Impulse-driven behavior" mistakes I've made. Maybe this will help you in the future when the shit starts to hit the fan.
June 16, 2011

PRE-HIGH

Jay, some people might call this excitement, but for me and maybe you it's like starting to climb the ladder; you're getting high before the fun has started. Inexpensive but a sign to yourself; use caution! When I hit this zone, I wanna out-drink, out- party, out- crazy everyone.

For me, this happens at times. This is when true friends will keep an eye on you and keep you from getting into a dangerous mindset... if they are truly your friends. Others will encourage you to do things you wouldn't normally do. I don't mean to sound like a priest, but I've done a lot of wild shit in mania and in certain situations people have enjoyed the show, It's entertainment for them and when you come down you might feel like a piece of shit about what went on, That's if you can remember what went on, And those other people, well, they don't give a fuck about you, remember that when you feel like you're the circus clown! Just stop, take a second, slow yourself down, and maybe this will be enough to catch you from becoming a fool for others.

I speak from experience; not a good thing, know what I mean? But make no mistake; you need to recognize the behavior pattern that is trying to take over in these types of environments.

Jay, some other impulsive shit I do is going out and buying sports cars, on a moments notice, my wife tells me I'm a poster child for some of the traits that come with Bi-Polar disorder, she aught to know, and what do I know, I know, I'll never win that argument or lose the "Need for speed."

Money has always been a major problem in my life, if I have a dollar in my pocket I'm thinking about what I can spend it on, generally bullshit I never need. My friends laugh, because I would go out shopping and buy two of the same items just to have a back up. Shoes, I've got pairs in my closet that I've never worn and usually end up giving away or donating, but at the time, I felt I had to have them. I'm guessing you might have similar tendencies, Maybe not, But this is probably one of the toughest things to control for myself, Even today I struggle with it, I just bought some sneakers because I didn't have a pair, but I went to the store to buy shoe laces and, POW! I walked out with the sneakers. I've been this way my entire life and it's one of the reasons I will never be able to retire, I tell people I'm on the "work till you die" program.

Babes, now that might be a little tough for you, I've often thought how tough it must be for someone, who has an illness like we do. You meet someone you like, you start a relationship, maybe. But how do you break the news to them? Seems like a bitch.

I would guess it's probably better to get it out of the way before you get serious.

It will take someone very strong and understanding to be able to have any meaningful relationship no doubt I'm lucky, My wife and I have been together since I was 21, almost your age, so she got to see all the craziness of my youth and continued into adulthood, basically up until last year, before I really started to changed my lifestyle.

We talked about that, it makes a difference. I know you're young and I expect that you will continue to have as much fun as you can. I would say, try to think about what's going on around you, and try to recognize any patterns that disrupt your "balance." sometimes you'll find that in little break from partying too much? You'll discover that you don't need as much of that stuff to enjoy things in life. It was good to talk I don't often get to sit down with someone who deals with some of the same issues as me. Any time you want to talk feel free. Later
June 21, 2011

FAIR WARNING

I was out of work, out of my home, out of my mind, and shopping for antique furniture with my mother, I felt like I was tripping twice at once, so to speak.

Pizza Jesus, Angry Jesus

The pizza shop

dimly light

as the heat bellowed

from the ovens

The owner and wife

an all-day

all-night affair

the smell of pizza,

condiments,

and boiling grease,

Jesus watches

above the cash register

dull stroked

tired brown eyes

his smile

slightly washed

in material sadness

and now in this moment

Pizza Shop Jesus

and buffalo wings

are igniting memories of

asphalt cracks, pit bulls

chain smoked cigarettes,

held between burning finger tips

the antique shop

my mother

an eclectic shopper

and lover of knick knacks

and I

In self exile

strayed to another room

where Jesus watched

on the wall

an angle unseen before

a side portrait

no gentle smile

no soft hands

piercing angry eyes

in a deeply frozen stare

and I again

not looking away

his image

tugged at my intrigue

the artist

whispered to madness

who dare buy

an angry Jesus

his daily scorn

too much to bear

morbid curiosity

draws a return

to ask who painted

his dismay

and that look

would it remain

the same today?

I'll roll the dice on that deal.

In my observation, the supermarket is always a challenge for most people, random chaos contained in some way, shape or form? You definitely don't need a driver's license in that place.

~ ~ ~

Deli Counter

4 lines repeated

for a pound of cheese

how nice the haze at 17

a three cart jam

in trails and lights

a guiding twenty under line

The checker's E burned

and Kangaroo's are everywhere

mommy...
June 25, 2011

WHAT'S THAT SMELL?

This morning I sat watching the rain and reflecting on last year's stint in rehab.

I had been so fucking high, not from any drug or alcohol. I was just manically tripping.

I'm pretty sure the councilors knew it, but I was able to stay within the lines and suck up my madness so to speak, enough to function. Plus it was out-patient, so money's involved, and if things got really bad they could just throw you out.

My councilor was Chuck, a self-acknowledged bad ass. He had served, like four years, for trafficking or dealing. I can't remember which, and it doesn't really matter. When I entered his class I remember the look he gave me, like I was some pussy from the suburbs, and his first comment to me was, "Some of us need sensitive counseling." Fuck that crap! I've been around more than most people would ever assume, I've learned to size shit up rather quickly.

In the group we had a pretty good cross-section of people. Current gang members or former, people living in shelters, some were there before the courts held their sentencing or custody cases. We had a few average everyday people, but for some reason I got the impression Chuck thought I was some pussy from the suburbs so there was some friction between us.

By now, I had grown tired of that little mind fuck game between us. I had learned that to be a councilor you only had to be clean for a year or so. But when you struggle with any addiction, you are always vulnerable to a certain degree.

It was pretty warm that spring and the class rooms got very hot so they gave us a fan. Up front next to Chuck, was a bottle of hand sanitizer and hand sanitizer is like 70% plus alcohol-based. After one of our smoke breaks, I decided to give some payback.

During our class we could see who was "Jones'n" because they itch at the mention of certain triggers, and we all did it. Heroin might be "cotton balls;" crack could be mention of a pipe or rock, Oxycondin could be the mention of phony prescriptions, and with alcohol just about anything could trigger it, and the list goes on.

When I came back from break, I took the sanitizer and rubbed it all over my hands, then I coated the whole outside of the bottle, and then I pointed the fan directly at Chuck and the bottle sitting next to him. I watched his every move, every twitch and in about five minutes in he was melting down mentally, scratching, loosing his thought pattern, and generally he went from a bad ass to a kitten in the matter of minutes, his humility had returned, He wasn't Superman anymore!

The only problem with that was, most of the class was itching, and scratching too.

I felt bad about that but, hey, shit happens, I was on overdrive, and he was a professional wise ass.

Bottom line is, with any institution, or life in general, people are hustling, making connections and trying to establish themselves in the pecking order. I always go in with open arms and let the other person take me where they want to go. Fuck chuck.

The funny thing is that, I had borrowed my mother's car to get to rehab, Two weeks in, and I was sitting in the parking lot and realized that she had something hanging off the review mirror, Out of curiosity, I turned it over, and it said "Yacht Club" on it. Word gets around when everybody's trying to navigate the terrain, I never laughed so hard. Finally, I had some indication why things might have developed the way they had. The short of this entry is, don't ever pre-judge anyone. They might know how to play chess, off the board.
June 30, 2011

Fuck it, sometimes you just gotta let shit roll!

Untitled

aware of the show

and how its pays

incessantly

on all subdivides

the networks

sublimify my antiquities

the mission is ground control

the leaders lost in space?

within our given border

tonight

I will exit the pattern

in sleep

I will find another

Repeatable...

is always beatable

tomorrow will direct me

don't follow

the bread crumbs

There's way too much going on up there, so much so, I don't want to waste your time.
June 31, 2011

LICKING THE LINOLEUM

The following poem was written at the height of self degradation. I was on a pretty good run, binging on anything I could get my hands on, and finding myself in all the wrong places.

Like coffee tables surrounded by more trash bags than chairs, or let's say this, if you can count enough pop cycle sticks to build a bridge to the nearest emergency room, you know things are getting nasty, it's probably time to make a change in your behavior, set a new course for yourself. Know what I'm saying?

And even in writing and acknowledging my awareness of this, I know that at some point for whatever reasons, it could happen again if I let certain conditions and circumstances escalate, but with some brutal experiences it's harder to let myself fall that far, I don't dwell on it and I'm certainly not afraid to admit it, or understand that this is part of my personality. Knowledge is half the battle; self-control is the other, merging the two requires some skill.

White Cloud

a darker side of life

slicing through this half-mile block

bull's eye, full up pockets with rock

in the den she waits, I am a spectacle

White Cloud

albino, obese, and overly eager to please

one step from a tracheotomy

a hanging dress

her chest a bypass scar

the mark of her haunt, her battles

the hunt

junior's on the run again

in the front, out the back

check the sights, watch your ass

side-winding, jut stepping

on a path of silence

the blues always a major sweat

deportation? ... anytime.

White Cloud, unable to hedge her bets

intently she stares

at the crack between the door and the floor

glued for the sounds penetrating her paranoia

even the pipe can't steal her eyes away

the bags arrive

always three instead of six

repeat the cycle, chase failure

vicious games of denial

buy nine

one more claw

on an endless road

of industrial toxin

to burn fingers and celebrate pain

hands get raised to c-grade works

a jagged pipe

with overtime hours

the chores are strain dead

tinfoil up and takes the challenge

held high, for the slow steady draw

superglue

for the mind

that powerful white exhale

the torch, the flame, that edge

the jack that calls you back

the silent sad eyes

pleading to each color

flies bonded to the strip

another ring, another run

to a phone that carries weight

seeking truth and postage to nowhere

circle the block

check the rearview

who's pissin' on who

while the under dogs

check the game

even in madness

rules remain

no standin' still

no serious chillin'

hoodies, hats and five rolls... out!

three bags more, the lighters glow

White Cloud...

she's on the door again

cookin' n lookin'

while teeth are lost in the shag

dignity digs the hole

Crack is whack! It's a full time job, with no take home pay.
July 2, 2011

We all fail at times... we all struggle with something, that clubs all inclusive.

Chip Away

with chain gang rhythm

the hammer strikes rock

force on force

chips of stone

lay in rubble

the struggle

to reach your want

a frenzied pace is kept

to fend doubt off

the rock struck again

force on force

chips of stone

side by side

some big

some small

all matter

in uniqueness

broken free

separated from origin

the struggles change

the goal infinitely remains

windblown to start anew
July 3, 2011

MT.WASHINGTON

I feel like a deck that's just been stained. It's the weather in the valley, overcast and rainy. It shouldn't matter because it's incredibly beautiful in any type of weather, always a new picture painted. It shouldn't matter but it does.
July 6, 2011

As my world has changed dramatically, so to has my hideaway, although the same people remain, golf carts have replaced walking. Time chases everyone, so I have found a new place to hide, and even then, there's always someone who knows where I am.

My Secret Hideaway

The morning sun reigns warm

as children play among the trees

running without care

a special place for the soul

one place time stands still

my secret hideaway

this place where I'm free

from a world racing by

as I watch you paint

the sky in wonder

I ask myself

are you gods or god

and does it really matter

that you choose to never say

in silence we share together

those moments worth

more than all the riches

any man could ever sow

my sweet retreat

my sanctuary

one place time stands still

on your shore

the sweetest breath

as loons call to the morning mist

your mountains paint me works of art

as rich as any master to hold a brush

winter sleep has rested you well

this place our love is shared

my secret hideaway

July 9, 2011

The rains have moved through. The sun is waking and it looks to be a beautiful day ahead. One of my favorite times, early morning when the previous day is laid to rest and a new one starts with endless possibilities, I love to listen to the sounds of nature and man; so much is dictated by the other.
July 11, 2011

There's a hole in the sky...Everywhere!

The debt ceiling yo...There's a million opinions on what to cut, what not to cut, and if we default for the first time in our history, how will that effect the global markets? It's funny and sad to watch partisan politics and special interests bicker and stonewall over who gets to have the last stitch on a severed artery, because from where I am, that seems to be all they're fighting about.

Who's gonna save the patient from bleeding to death? But what I want to know is the back story, how did the patient incur such a serious wound? I've heard a rumor that he foiled a bank robbery but was overwhelmed by more than one assailant and it was a pretty big heist so I'm sure they fled the country by now. They left the knife behind but where they're going, has no extradition treaties, and the haul the was enough to keep 'em stocked for quite some time, and being professional thieves and such, they know the statute of limitations will expire before their plastic surgery starts to sag.

See how fucked up that analogy was? Reminds me of the debt ceiling, which is what brought us to this point, fundamentally speaking. In engineering they use non destructive testing, in economics they use "hammer time".
July 15, 2011

Since I was a fairly young kid I would always find myself writing. Stories,

Musical lyrics, you name it, and even to this day, I will misplace or throw out almost every scrap of it, but over the years I've created what I call, a book of "past attempts", which is proving to have some value at times. When I get stuck, I will literally open it up and use what page shows up in front of me.

So here goes, good, bad, or down I really don't care at this moment, it's a gamble and I do like that part of the unknown.

Mildly Offensive

i admit it

fairly new to the game

there's no money

no whores

no hugs

no drunken nights

no savoir to edit and formulate

my words into pretty poems

no grand illusions

of becoming world famous

bottom line

the rent is due and I'm screwed

floundering in my own cesspool

of nothingness

rid myself of the fear of failure

take chances, wild chances

the kind that might kill you forever

before a second attempt

so what....

i started with a name and napkin

if by chance the Petri dish explodes

and the infection spreads

and if you feel threatened by the outbreak

of this attempt....

my old lady says...

"Call a doctor, a cop or your mother"

Most of what I write is a twisting, turning road with more than one driver.
July 16, 2011

Today is beautiful outside. I mowed the lawn and turned off the world

Tonight will be a nice evening, but I doubt I could duplicate last night's

"Hotness", but I'm up for trying.
July 17, 2011

NON-VERBAL COMMUNICATION...

In the Silent Moments

words

we use to teach small children

the rhythm of life

to dream in possibility

when the train rolls down the tracks

its whistle blows

its wheels screech

words are used for many things

to tell how the robins sing

in spring's first light

but there are no words to say

in the silent moments

that we share

no words spoken

love is there

this is my gift to you

for all you've done for me

i wrote it down with words

to remind you

love is there

in the silent moments that we share

My grandmother who was my true confidante in life. She was school teacher for thirty years or so and had gone to college in an age when most woman never dreamed of or had the opportunity to do so, hell let alone drive a car and with all the pain and struggles in her life she never complained about a drop of it, the good, the bad and everything was a life lesson, in retrospect she never really did retire I wonder if she realized that.
July 17, 2011

No brownie points here. This was like stirring the mixing bowl, and knowing you weren't going to get to lick the spoon. A lot of emotions were swirling around at the time.

Brutal Angry Love

the hurried anxious moves

the snippets of conversations

pushed and pulled between the friction

of distance and waiting thunder

the little silver trash can under the sink

instinctively lifted for blood

for validations sake

had the shift been so subtly seen

the words might have bought some refrain

I see your flow runs heavy with despair

my illness a crutch, a test struggling against

the love you give

I'll lay with you swathed in cotton

to prove my desire and release the pain

and when the lakes and rivers dry and all is barren

I will come back for you

endlessly

Originally this was titled, "Tampons and Tenderness"

And far more biting than any women would ever deserve, but that's how love, and anger, often go in difficult times.
August 19, 2011

IN BILABONG, I DO NO WRONG

I've let myself slack off a little bit. I'm hardwired in finding ways to do things that never have an end, so I put up my invisible barriers. Sometimes I just kick the door down and bust through without any care, other times the door will call me into question. Why do I do this? Why would I lay myself out on paper? What purpose does it serve?

Maybe it will validate that I'm as fuck up as I feel sometimes and other days it solidifies my thoughts that in this present world I'm never alone. For me it's relevance or nonsense, both of which I struggle between. And why does it even matter?

Will this help someone else or will I help push them into their own struggles, trigger their tendencies? At this moment, right now, this is forefront, maybe at some point in the day I will find another rhythm, another pathway that takes me to another mindset in another part of the world, another room in the brain.

And all those questions I just pondered, are perfect examples contributing to my slacker hardwire. "Avoidance 101"
August 20, 2011

EVEN ON LEVEL GROUND... It feels like a sink hole

I saw the images of a little boy lying dead on the ground. He had been shot in the protests in Syria. Is this where we are in this day and age, children gunned down by governments trying to hang onto power against an unstoppable wave of people who have been held captive and psychologically corralled by these archaic forms of oppressive governments?

Once social media became accessible and Egypt overturned its regime there was no going back. The domino effect is in full swing. Oppression is on borrowed time and every government ruling with an iron fist is scrambling to stem the tide. Some will attempt to change, but most will go down in flames through their own ignorance.

Back to where I began before I drifted, Images of children starving in Somalia and Kenya but really everywhere on the African continent, some through drought and poverty and a sad amount through war and corruption.

Literally there are days I ask myself, Is this real or am I trapped in illusion, that far gone that this reality is just a bad dream I can't break free from? This seems to happen more frequently than in the past.

If I think about the technological and medical advances made it's hard to rationalize how these things could take place. To me it's sad because if these problems were drastically reduced the world would be a much more stable environment and from there we could focus on the future, but some hold all the other's back.

I'm always confused when I hear terms like "global strategy" and "global initiative" but generally these terms don't find a unified or collective effort from countries worldwide for whatever the reasons, When the foundation of a structure is cracked and eroding it is subject to collapse, this may sound drastic and over the top but for me that analogy holds validity, everything starts with platforms and foundations. How solid do I want to be?
August 24, 2011

P.S., I forgot to mention Libya

Science says the plates are shifting but they don't say anything about the bombs that are landing. See what happens when 10 million feet start marching, the rattle and roll on a palace, measurable and seen, the ground is rumbling. Dictation means hands free, some one else does your work, in writing and rule! Right here, right now, a ghost and a dictator are looking for work.
August 25, 2011

Jay, this is for you

I hope the Tiki bar is ready! I know you've been on a little tear of late. You gotta break the routine, the comfort zone, the easy in easy out manic level only you know what I'm talkin bout... yeah that rhymes because it's supposed to.

That way you might find it easier to remember what I'm saying. You're young and supposed to have fun, another rhyme, But the "project shit" won't bring you happiness in the long haul and neither will letting yourself "fuel up" into mania, I say this to you because I've pretty much done it all...crack houses, prescription drug addiction and anything else you can think of. It's the edge, the thrill, the driver...the adrenaline fuck, I love it too, but at some point you've got to think about the collateral damage! The people...your family and friends the stress you lay down on them.

What do they think when they're with you? What's gonna happen? What's next? it's hard to think about that when you're in that state of mind, you're probably not thinking about what's going on inside their heads but when the shit comes crashing down, and we both know what that's like, then it's time to step outside your self and become them...no, really become them, from the time they wake up till the time they go to sleep you become them watching yourself go through all your actions from their perspective, only then can you start to feel what they feel, start to learn how to hold yourself in check.

This isn't to bust your balls or bitch you out, I'll never do that, it's more of a way to help you see yourself and how you affect what's around you, Jay seriously try that, it's a tool that will take you miles, at times it isn't pretty, but it can help you and the ones you love to cope with the animal that wants to run wild. I know that there will always be a time when it will all break loose, that's a given, but trying to manage the time between manic rips is what's important. Also one of the toughest things you'll face but cknowledgement is one step in the right direction, plus you'll get way more ass if you can keep your shit in check. I don't mean you can't be crazy in the sack that's a different situation all together.

So with that said someday you will read this and say "Yeah he knows what's going on" and maybe you'll trust this advice, after all were pretty much the same right? Ha ha ha!

But I am serious and so should you be, you've got a lot of years ahead and they'll be far better when you learn to manage some of the triggers and runs that shoot you into the stratosphere. It's a little work and a serious skill learning how to handle your disease with moderation and recognition of where you're at physically and mentally, Self check, it gets easier the more you work at it. You don't have to be an angel, just be aware of your actions and those of the people around you; you'll cut down on the negative consequences. Take it easy...
August 28, 2011

Hurricane Irene!
August 30, 2011

PRE-WRECK...PRE-ROLL

Left as is...grammatically speaking

I'm haze'n at this moment...I blame my damage on Irene! That bitch stole my power

for 2.5 days...it's fuckin crazzzzzzzzy! You know what... that ain't shit. I was getting a little bitchy about not having electricity. So today when I wanted to just say Fuck everything.....that's it, enough for today, but then I said to my buddy "This isn't much. There are other people living without shit.... a house, a car and a job that who knows and a wage that's insanely meager trying to survive....Crazy huh?"

I'm having fun right now watching Washington in full blown re-election and campaign mode, Comical isn't it as much as they talk about getting in touch with the voter I haven't seen one of them ever try living with an average family for a week, shows you how slow Washington is, There was a TV show called "The Simple Life" like what 10 years ago? Sometimes the answer is right in front of you and you don't even need to do the demographics to see the point.
August 31, 2011

I BLAME IRENE

"Help I've fallen and I can't get up." "Clap on clap off.", props to the old ladies, props all around. So I'm on a blaze run, fuck it, chill or whatever takes the animosity away, I'll do that shit every day, and all through the night! I probably should get the "life alert."

Radio Active

Sponged for hours

The images poured and measured

Into the receptors of an eye

Deep...deeper than you think

Seeds of profit and power are planted

The war, constant and forefront

A market bizarre

Proclaiming...the lies will change

Permeating transmissions

Through transparent wants and wishes

Dilation and eye blinks count the money

For kings to sew another man's harvest

On the super highways of a world

So far out... it's in!

How do the profilers sleep?

Are they coded vampires

The Geiger counter makes a soothing beat

All thoughts caught and sold

In speculative secondary markets

A wicked game...so damn wicked

You have to taste damage to play

Like learning how to stop an ass hemorrhage

In the open wilderness

Level one, subliminal drones

Steal the bloody underwear

From level two's

No one goes unscathed

In the avalanche of technology

You roll and take the hits

Watch your underwear

Know the game

Go vote!

From what I see, Politics is like a puppet show. Given the right puppeteers, they can pretty much make their puppets dance, and sing to any tune. The real danger is, when the shows over, and the money's gone, their masters set them free, to put the hustle on you and me!

My advice for what it may be worth, keep your head up, and don't let them wrap their strings around your neck and drag you back into their show.
September 1, 2011

Greed is constant, economies are cyclical. I know the answer lays somewhere between them!

Wedding on the Moon or Sun Depending on My 401k

Paid in advance

Cash before it leaves

Inventors of the cycles

Trading TMI to keep the scams alive

The heart rate that much quicker

When you don't have to pop no rivets

Pulsing arteries shine much brighter

Like the cycles of a sunlight wave

Economies are now shorter between the crests

The ups and downs of marital future

Caught in the surf

You learn to swim much quicker

How many charter11's have washed a shore?

No floats built to save so many

Nothing shelved for time to know

The landscape fractured and bleeding

Building blocks become enslaved

higher ground becomes the sea

No boarders for the mountains

Economies are matinees

Another pill goes to market

Hard for more than 4

The call might come

But only after 8 hours, yeah right!

No worries, there's another way

To knock that shit right down

No residual side effects

So far to be found

Fuck it

Can you still piss yellow?

Make a rainbow

Hit the box

My dream girls waiting

We're fiber close now

No swapping spit or lines yet

But eventually we'll meet

Fuck for real

A lot maybe

Get some on us without a wipe

Build a monster

Watch the paint dry

Join the wedding

On the moon or sun

The invite depends on our 401

The ship yet built

The slave not found

Diagnosis

Unbalanced payload

Well, Most of that little bit of cynicism, is about the economy ,and jobs in the country, the rest of it, is about over medicating, and some sexual shit, probably 3+ different urge impulses firing off in one line, the payload stuff I'll leave alone.
September 2, 2011

VACATION

For the last five years or so my vacation has consisted of mowing the lawn. No sadness to be found I still have one! One of the biggest setbacks for anyone struggling with any kind of major mental health issues is the adjustments in your life and definitely your ability to work. In years previous I had to travel a fair amount, and after a couple of manic episodes I lost the desire and confidence to travel and work on the road, Basically I worried about the situations and stressors that might occur, late nights in bars, long hours of work, living out of a suitcase all of it combined to add up to potential problems. And the byproduct of this change is a much more stable environment for myself and the people around me but at a serious financial loss, a bitch of a trade-off but in the end my health and my family's well-being takes precedence over all else.
September 2, 2011 continued

IT'S NOT RECYCLING, IT'S SURVIVAL

I was just thinking about work today, It was about 3:00 p.m. when these guys pulled up to the jobsite in a couple of pick- up trucks and started looking in the dumpster outside the building being renovated. "Dumpster- Diving", the day before I had dumped a large stainless steel commercial refrigerator in the dumpster so I told them about it and if they wanted it they'd have to climb in and tie a rope around it and I'd lift it out with a bobcat and load it in their truck. I took them inside and helped them get an ice maker to the loading dock and we loaded it up. Some of the stuff was stainless but how much are you going to get from that haul?

Three guys, Two trucks, travel, gas, labor, I mean you have to go big to survive, I don't know, maybe it's doable, but given the choice my money says they'd rather be doing something else, I've really noticed this over the last few years, guys on jobs saving copper pipes, electrical wires, cast iron, all kinds of shit, and if the scrap isn't there, well some improvise.

Vacant houses being ransacked for copper plumbing, appliances. Turf wars on neighborhood trash days, Know what I mean? Of course you do I was just "bustin" balls.

Point is that when things are tough there are all kinds of societal behaviors that kick in or were there underneath the surface, but as your own situation fluctuates your awareness becomes that much more acute...survival mode, it's everywhere. I'm just too afraid to think about the math, "Street Math", the kind of numbers economist aren't always taught in school. Dig deep, don't look away....come toward the light, numbers don't lie.... People do!
September 4, 2011

Today the words still escape me, even simple is hard, but in terms of the world, my block is miniscule and irrelevant! I say this without frustration and only with objectivity. I'll wait for tomorrow, Maybe yes, maybe no.
October 31, 2011

BETWEEN THE EARS

The words whispered to memory, dreams to physical, watching the body take shape

Take wind, swished into the ears without reconcile, another sound has come to play

The wake before the impact, a new canvas set ablaze. A middle of metaphysical deduction, the hum across the flattest plain, the roll of waves and tides changing place, a sirens pulse, the motorcycles acceleration, a dogs mouth eating from a bowl...still it rolls on as the power plant kicks in.

Bit by bit life wakes and steals its piece, with purpose the hand turns the tap and fills the tank absorbed in the birth of a new day, the ebb and flow of the world overshadows it's cloak, silence is elusive...white noise, it's drone an unending truth, denial is a burden bore. The filter yet to be designed, tonight will test its boundaries in sleep, tomorrow

Sitting by the window of repeats... a constant companion returns, seeping through in unending wedlock. To break the panorama of the universe is to pay the toll taker his asking price.
November 1, 2011

TOO LONG GONE

For a few months now I've stopped my journal entries Probably for many reasons, tired of my insecurities, always questioning why I bother writing anything down.....seems a little redundant when I can rewind it all in my head, but the biggest thing is sticking to a goal I set for myself, something that has dogged me my entire life and I will battle to the end. I must remember though I've written plenty of "Little stories" along the way and I can insert the ones I like and that reminds me all was not lost or totally unproductive.

But the season calls...

This is my transition period when things can go seriously wrong if I don't keep my shit locked down tight. I can slide down into the lows or sling shot into the ultimate manic high which is more powerful than any drug there is, very similar to tripping on acid with a little crystal mixed in, but free 24/7. I've done it all and nothing is as wild or more dangerous....the power is there! It can take you anywhere, so you think!

Seriously fucked up situations like crack houses or who knows. I tell myself I've learned to handle it pretty well but that's total bull shit. Usually I'll burn hard on the back end of a manic tear by then my "baby sitters" are dropping like flies. That's the time; I know what waits ahead...psych. where they return you to earth! It seems like I've said this before? But no harm in re-emphasizing the ride, the trail of carnage left behind. Those memories etched in your mind forever; I mean the ones that you can remember.

Jay, you know what I'm talking about "Hood rat shit" I believe that's your term, be a good boy.
November 2, 2011

DEPENDING HOW YOU HANDLE IT...

Today was not a bad day. Take it when you can get it, hold it... enjoy each day knowing where you've been and what lays ahead for you. I'm not talking the end here

It's more the terror and temptations experience has left on you, but I have no fear of most things, that might sound hypocritical to some but I'll always try to view things as objectively as I can. It's the best way in my belief to find strengths and weaknesses within myself also It helps to have a sense of humor about things. I remember one time talking to my shrink after a serious run, I was down, out, on my back, no where to turn and I was laughing at myself, he looked at me a little strangely in regards to my current circumstances. I told him If I couldn't laugh at myself that's when I knew I was totally fucked beyond return, stripped of everything, but I'll fight to never let that happen till they fill me in! Just move... forward that is.
November 4, 2011

I see a dark horse galloping on a road of no endings. I'm on that horse in the snow

A cross, and axe in gray all follow. What's yours? Don't laugh; I know it's in there!

This is the toughest bitch of all, to lay it all out for someone else to read. You know? What's going on in your head, at times it takes balls bigger than yourself...
November 7, 2011

I'm shifting gears now, from months of lying off this journal, it feels seriously lame.

To the point I don't even want to read my own shit. My personal editor tells me, I read at sixth grade level, not bad for me, I left off the ½ grade because it leaves me hungry.
November 8, 2011

Sad to see that one of my childhood favorites died, Smoking Joe Frazier, One of the toughest heavy weight fighters of all time, so many great fights with Ali and others in a time when boxing was at one of its greatest heights. You could watch a lot of the fights for free on Wide World of Sports.

Maybe the love of the sport came early because my parents gave me and my three brother's boxing gloves for Christmas when I was about 8 years old. They'd rather see us boxing than use the fire place poker or anything handy. Although one serious factor they never considered was that, more times than not, in a real life fight, shit usually happens instantaneously, and no one say's lets stop and put the gloves on, Sadly for them, they eventually realized this and anyone who came to our house over the years could tell you almost every door had a hole in it.
November 11, 2011

DEAD OR ALIVE!

Last night I was looking through some past writing. This was in the height of mania and I can still recall quite vividly some of the events.

I inserted the original manic version, It was so far out, and so on the edge, I was on a roller coaster ride and didn't know what the next second would bring, I, felt like someone had sold me out for something I might have done in the past, I felt like a wanted man, alone and on the run.

Sounds exaggerated, but there are people like me that can tell you it doesn't get any truer than that, and there are some who would like to tell you, but there dead!

~ ~ ~

PICTURE THIS...

It was a beautiful winter day the sun was out and it was a Sunday. I was alone and I

Hadn't been to my grandmothers grave in far too long, she was my best friend and I could always confide in her. I felt guilty and backed into a corner so I decided to drive out to Westfield and visit her.

I got onto the Mass Pike and headed out to the cemetery but for some strange reason I turned around and headed back towards my buddies house when you're so hypo driven, delusional and paranoid, I became liquid and receptive to everything in 360 degrees not much makes sense, everything is nuclear to the point you have to fight for seconds to hold on and death could easily be an option and escape from the world

You've been thrown into, but understanding each moment from past experiences teaches you to hang on and will yourself through this incredible storm.

~ ~ ~

BRAKEDOWN LANE

At 80 mph. I looked across the Jersey barrier, there he was, driving in reverse, a blue trooper, holding a radar gun, in that moment both became assassins....

Too Close For Comfort

one sunny Sunday

a burden at the edge

so deep in electric pulse

blood dripping

along a picket fence

too many pints

donated on rev line

wheels rolling to a grave

long since it's day of rest

a highway pushing, pulling

at the shoe laces of a tired foot

friends and enemies

wearing at the soles

top shined

backwards on all fours

a shooter tries to lock on

off game, a duck for luck

to the neighborhood

of invisible youth

searching for the player

of players yet found

could it be?

the rearview reflecting

or the hand

clutching the scene

I was driving so naturally high that day, it's a good thing there weren't any sobriety checks for space travel.
November 12, 2011

Right here it's all blunt force trauma, if it shows up, it goes down!

Deeply Disturbed

squishing flies against the screen of my thought office

watching the spiders on the ceiling

their death a momentary rush

before the box for hours

quagmired in bullshit and non blinks

sedated in the hum of a server

the final war when the ones left run wild

a carving knife salesman position offered

that could be my lucky break

or projection screen operator

with only salad fingers episodes

teaching me how to kill in innocence

i love that shit

should I put my shoes on now?

or wait till the cold dissipates from them

the stones fell over again

maybe I should stack them?

but only staggered will invite the moon

and maybe some other celestial shift

30 minutes standing in place again

how can I conquer society or my repeatable patterns?

only through selective targeting will the world be safe

it's also cheaper that way

who's operating the board?

the leaves are fucking everywhere

this change sucks...I need to see the light

everyone says that in so many ways

but the aggression grows from the garden

vegetables not canned for winter

fuck it...fresh that's all for me

strictly meat when the snow flies

and I know some cans are waiting

meanwhile the temp is polluting me again

i should trap myself on an island

but everyone's crazy on them

and that's an unhealthy relationship

maybe I'll send this out floating on the web

let them watch me cry

about my unfulfilled dreams

i should probably try

to become something new

like Siddhartha....

my inner core as a child

? take the pills

check my voicemail....

listen to the whispers inside my casket

o.k. next move

This was basically stream of consciousness; just the free flows of thoughts racing around my skull. At times, I think I was questioning whether my stream was all dried up, or was it just my conscience that was empty. "Larvae" hatched from this moments top three lines. Enough for one day....
November 14, 2011

New Orleans again, it took at least three days to recover and I donated some serious cells.

Trading temptations

on a quest for knowledge

the man, the myth

the hat and all beneath it

shuffling streets and alleys

spiraled in thoughts

cobbled and crooked

gnawing at the night

absorbed, embraced in

a pulsing, fluid stretch

of time....

the host,

a shifter, streetwise

full force, money slick

he danced a stick

to lick the stuck off

in an ocean of plight

a jester's magic palm

lay the mystery

of the French quarter

buried in the spit and bone

of severed spines

to wed his silver heart

all shared wine

then doubled up on ecstasy

letting the shit and skulls cry out

choking on four letters

a world harder spoken

his whispers, fix and fixation

held entry and access

to rooms of no name

parading over the melted faces

of techno and factory space

industrial vampires

chasing eternal night

eternal life....

the blood be wasted

imprisoned, strangled

staggered, clock free

wishful and wanting

wild squirming fuck worms

glued on, sucked off

tangled in tastes

toxicity and tongues

combined, poured

offered in sacrifice

down an unending drain

of cells and soul

at 6 dawns light beckoned

no marks, no numbers

just half way dead

the player, pawns

evaporated in reverse

to salvage an ending

at a hotel door

My advice, probably not the best thing to do if your flights at 8:a.m.
November 16, 2011

WHAT CAN I SAY?

Sometimes I have to laugh at the things I find fascination with a little while ago I sat adjusting the collection of rocks lying artistically positioned on the porch mantle place,

my own private Stonehenge to the gods.

I've always been curious about stone I guess part of it is the enduring strength. I wonder what history they've witnessed, how many hands have touched them or was I the first to pick them up and alter their course in time it will always be a fascination of mine.

Field stone wall

in the wood behind our houses

land once unified as whole

a world of many plays

the old wall

the farmers hands

labored in purpose

a marker, a dividing line

earthen colors of grey, and brown

some blue, here and there

covered in moss, accentuating its age

it's past of many changes

rounds, flats, oblongs, and squares

haphazardly laid in a jagged, twisting tail

family to the Gartner snakes that sunned

themselves in the warmth and light

the leaves of fall, and many falls before

lay at it's feet

another blanket lay discarded

seasons shed of frost, and snow

kissed in sun, and wind

how many moons above it's sleep

all watched by time, and gods

there, our first primal instincts came to be

home made bows, and arrows

crooked spears raced its length

the battle line of child warriors

over, and on it, uncountable times

to gaze at it's different levels

the weaker, and greater points

stones of less obvious choices

their uniqueness, whispering secret messages

has any hand, or foot, left its print

upon them

since the farmer laid its place

and the farmers task, his purpose

what was his life, his family

sweating to make a meager living

selling milk, eggs, and vegetables

not farther past his wall

a small, rusted, water wheel

sits by the brook

with the swamp, and skunk cabbage

edging their boundary

we drank from it's stream

regrouping our forces

like cowboy's, and Indians

or nights, without armor

hunted, and hunting

the birds, and squirrels

all artful messengers to some

hidden under the giant pines

our secret grounds, our sacred refuge

of child forts, and running trails

the land, the farmers contribution

that field stone wall

left behind

to claim his legacy

in histories remain

To know the past, is to know?
November 17, 2011

CAGED AND PACING

It's all bullshit to me right now! Last night I was sitting having a smoke just thinking about escaping all forms of media and running into the mountains and just turn everything off so I could escape from it all for a while, become real or find something close to that In that environment I find temporary tranquility, which is generally a bitch to do. It's one of those days I feel, like a fucking zoo lion.

Close Friends

slowly risen, bones crackling and stiff

dazed and awake

yet the mind still races

from the wars that raged over night

slowly the shade is opened

peering out

the ants and microwaves

are fighting for turf

scrambling over another day

9 cigarettes, 4 cups of coffee

...almost ready

no hesitation, well maybe some

my better half calls out

from some other region

of this cranium I call home

just as i'm about to step into the sunshine...

always questioning

the intentions of my reality

toes curl

i can feel the nerves race up my spine

constricting my neck

paralyzed again

my are friends watching

sometimes they'll laugh out loud

other times...

snickering and poking

till I shout in anger!

stop you fucks...

say it to my face

run and hide little shits...

as I grab

to clutch their scrawny necks

never able to lock them into

the death grip I desire

oh yea, close friends

the ones I hang with

the ones that have their way

cum all over me

and always stay too long

go away I say

never...they reply

you know who we are

laughing all the while

me, myself and I

That little piece of prose was about stepping outside myself and taking an inward reflection on depression, lack of self esteem, confidence and all the obstacles that have kept me from reaching satisfaction with myself and any goals I would strive to reach.

Stripping myself down, for better or worse, it gets me in the ball park of how and why I'm feeling a certain emotion at a particular point in time. The underlying factors or root causes contributing to particular thoughts.
November 20, 2011

Sometimes it's not what you say; it's how you say it! How many times have we all heard that one before?

fuck me again

whispered and kissed by the sun

in the heat of a summer's morning

her silhouette sauntering, dew swept

entwines the thoughts

hidden under white cotton

browned and unbound

her smiles of honey

her words, her breath heaven

touched and quenching

the lemonade forgotten

the pillows beckon

our eyes speak to fire

her lips whisper silently

come closer

in this moment

unspoken

i reply

forever

What more can I say?
November 23, 2011

BAD BOY CALLS...

You know the ones that hold you hostage trapped in the pull of all things shouldn't.

The toughest shit to shake is never the physical and probably the same for most, it's the psychological grip that squeezes your neck and chains you down, even with that said

I know I'll probably drag myself to failure. I say this because at this moment in pause.... I'm biting my finger nails, the first clue of the grip. A really smart person would tell you this is a form of denial in order to rationalize and excuse some form of negative behavior

And if they were to present that analogy to me, I would tell them they couldn't be any more right, but inside, my head is saying "I wanna be more wrong" the ultimate triumph of a psychological hold!

Serious Montana

his train has come to town

anxiously I wait

in the drizzle and grey unguarded

a silent fall day on the bust

the walls of consequence

now vanquished

hands wrapped around a chopping blade

the tinning echo off a porcelain plate

a drooling stooge inhales

the reflection shines

a second face holds the push

the first holds sorrow

the pen, the body

have found escape

no words flow now

that the snow falls straight line

bitter cold transgressions

hold captive another stray step

the lie of lies holds truth

an incestuous appetite

the teeth, chattered and grinding

while a sensuous tongue

caresses its favorite fang

the bones have come to call

in falls trace there is no will today

a steady pulse to steal the sun

the hands and knee's crawl

like dead ugly, a tailless rat

towards the hole of bitch returns

it's there sides live, fail and fall

aching and begging

racing like a search engine

through the mind

Serious Montana

always in my reflection

he watches, he whispers "again"

he could take me whole

or just tease the rot

this torment

now written

becomes

his play

Bottom line here, some trains charge way too much for a one way ticket!
November 24, 2011

THANKSGIVING...

I'm thankfully reminded that I still in reside at home with my family and I'm not a guest at the table. One of the hardest times of my life was being out of my house and a visitor on the holidays while I struggled to earn back forgiveness and acceptance, all the while fighting through the swings of manic behavior. It felt like crawling back from the dead.
November 25, 2011

WEATHER IN NEW ENGLAND!

This is a bitch of a memory to put on paper, I want to edit it out because it sounds whiney and regressive, but really it's an objective description of what at times may go through the minds of other people dealing with these issues and it's about as real as I can offer... so I'll let it ride.

Events like below have reinforced my belief that if you can survive such feelings of despair, paranoia and isolation when you're buried so deep in that state of psychosis there isn't much that can break you. In my opinion you've already lived through death in some degree and after that you've seen how far the mind and body can stretch without going silent black.

I've always felt extreme guilt over some of the behavior that comes with mania,

Self-initiated, or coerced by others around you wanting to fuel "a circus act". From each experience I've gained insight into the triggers and patterns that have put me on the ladder up/down, a struggle of wins and losses, it teaches you how to envision/minimize some of the damage that might occur down the road. I truly am thankful for god and or gods or some other higher power that's lifted me from my darkest depths and given me the strength to fight through it... not everyone is that fortunate.

"There are greater forces beyond our selves as I have witnessed, and with this said

I will knowingly risk myself in someone else's eyes."

Anonymous

Seeing Lime Green

on West Boylston common

alone on earths end, so close

to stand below a hanging head

blood drops and buckets

a ghost's walk

to hold the hand of skeletons

an invitation to join the hallows

in spring flowers

a man as guest

peered across the grey cloaks

of a hundred years past

his life on unmarked stones

his eyes untold stories

the only friend to hold

a puppy

lifeline and thread

under ominous clouds

confusion reigns

a lightening rod for salvation

the man and plea

to heal in redemption

from wrongs, from exile

in one surreal moment

he and pup bathe in sun

the rain fell not far from reach

tears tangled his eyes

memories of years flashed by

staring hard

a sign, a picture, a whisper

no one could steal

true belief

in minutes

he saw, he lived

he believed

in lime green

This moment is something I will never forget one incredible moment converging at the height of self turmoil enough to lift me up from utter despair, what happened was something that defies logic, at least in my mind and to this very day the image and event surfaces from time to time to this very day.

I was standing in a spot on the common, the old grave yard abuts it, it was cloudy and raining, suddenly the clouds opened up and the sun shown down in a small patch around me, but showers were falling everywhere, I hate to admit it but tears started coming on as I stared into the sun, which I don't recommend this to anyone because when I pulled out of it everything in sight was lime green for what seemed like a minute or so, seriously strange, incredibly surreal, messed up you might say, but it happened and I'm thankful for the memory, trust me I struggled with this entry but that's the way it went down, enough said.
November 25...continued

FRUSTRATION

It's something I've struggled with daily and most of my life. For myself I want to be positive about so many things in life, but when I look around at the world today there are so many things that drive me crazy. Hunger, disease, war, governmental corruption and inaction, corporate greed and inequalities, I have a hard time seeing such atrocities in this day and age. I know that it will never be a perfect world but we've drifted so far backwards in the face of advancements it gets tough. There are things to be hopeful about, like the oppressive regimes that are starting to fall and the people in these countries are getting a chance to mold their own futures.

My thoughts on this are... if every person could stop in their tracks! If only for a little while and truly looked inside themselves to see how they are living, what is right and what is wrong and make some type of change for the better maybe just a small one to start, then things would move forward for everyone, it really isn't as hard a feat as some would have you believe.

Complications are excuses for inaction at least that's my opinion. It's something I deal with daily and so do most of us. There is some personal guilt knowing how much I have in life while other people are dying for nothing other than inaction by people who have ulterior agenda's, it's archaic to me and there lies my frustration, oh I can shelve those thoughts for periods of time, but at some point they always manage to find their way back home.
November 26, 2011

Awesome day 60 degrees in the wake of December

The beginning stages of climate change aren't that bad, it's the speed of it that concerns me.
November 27, 2011

THE CREATIVE DOWN...

I 'm constantly looking at shit I write in this journal and outside of it. It can get dark and just plain depressive. I tell myself I should write on a more positive note, but it's like trying to hold water in your hands without spilling any of it. If I were to force change in order to satisfy what I think someone else might want to see or hear then I'd be faking the moment in order to hide from myself. That's the beauty of journalizing; it becomes your private confidant until you decide, if ever... to share with someone else, Probably not many people would ever want to do such a thing, you're completely naked and exposed, open to disaster like sex tapes on the internet, know what I mean? And with all that said I feel I've already made that tape, maybe I should summons up an invisible friend for

Some guidance I feel so overly repeated right now...In so many ways! Without intent I'm back into the 3rd sentence and trying to break free, but its holding me right now. A hardwire... recognizing it is one thing, breaking it is like sawing off a limb.
December 1, 2011

ADJUSTING MY REALITY

Today I got some new replacement windows, and a better cable package. It's like pre-Christmas, the house will be warmer this winter and we'll save $40 something bucks a month on the bundle, Nice.

This is my new reality. There was a time I could wake up and put my shoes on and go buy a new car that very same day and I did that twice, BMW M3's no doubt, but honestly I don't miss those days because all they did was get me into financial and legal trouble, I tend to run wild and spend crazy, drive in the red and fuel is free "adrenaline x,"

At least you think it is, Till someone comes knocking!

~ ~ ~

ESCAPING THE PAIN

I remember standing outside of rehab smoking; it wasn't exactly the place I wanted to be living out of my house and pretty much away from family and friends absolutely jacked out and like a spitting cobra. People were constantly hitting me up for cigarettes, which is a total street game. Do that twenty times a day, know what I'm saying?

Just to make a point to them about what kind of "flower child" they were trying to hustle up, I would get the ambers of my smoke red hot and put it between my fingers slowly, gently closing down on it feeling the degrees diminish with the smolder and the burn, anything else is all gimmick. Some might say this isn't that hard and it isn't if you do it enough, but the real deal is to look someone in the eye, no flinch, no blink at first the pain shoots through your palm, up the wrist to the elbow then settles in your arm pit after that the pathway of pain gets shorter...it stays in the tips, maybe not even that... easy game, somewhat pathetic.

After a while I had 8 fingers so burnt and calloused you couldn't feel a thing...similar to Wing Chung methods of deadening the fore arms and shins. A doctor might tell you this is a form of mutilation such as a cutter does but that really wasn't the intent of it

For me...at that time it was about enduring pain, could I and how much if necessary.

My rationalization was that if I could endure it then I certainly could find a way to survive my current circumstances.

This isn't a unique concept by any means and why know do I feel the need to recall this memory, I know first hand how much the human spirit will fight / endure to survive and adapt to it's surroundings / environment it's enormous, and mental pain is different than physical but the principle's are the same, sure it hurts a little in the beginning then you settle in to the realization this is where I stand and from here is where I travel, couldn't tell you which direction that's an individual choice, but the point of it all.... it's there in everyone, almost everyone. Backed up, backed in you find a way, it might get ugly but shit that's survival! Instead of weeks and days, your brain kicks it up to hours, minutes

And even seconds at times.

Anyway for all the ones who know this and especially you Jay, I thought you might find some common thread here you have a long haul in front of you, but a great sense of humor, that will carry you far.
December 2, 2011

ARE THERE ANY PICTURES?

Another beautiful day, I started to read a little which can get tough at times my mind always veers off I can wander for miles in a matter of pages it gets exhausting and I always struggle to maintain focus because I've been dropped in some new place...a real bitch! I'm sure that's the same for some others to, But I'm always in awe of a voracious reader.

It's funny because in my early years, probably till I was around seventeen I was a fairly serious reader, then I started getting laid regularly, maybe that's been my problem all along? I ask, given the choice, what would you do?

Sweet dreams.....
December 5, 2011

It's always amazing to me how the mind will self-direct or tie in on its self, Example; have you ever caught a cup falling from the cupboard? Reflex reaction, sure, most thought and actions are directed with intent but there are so many times they just coincide on their own.

Brain studies, definitely where it's at considering how much of the human mind goes untapped and finding ways to access that untapped potential? We spend billions, trillions chasing forms of energy that remain in sight, but the potential for incredible breakthroughs, and developments in so many areas remains vastly overlooked in terms of the money spent to unlock the hidden potentials of the human mind.

Free commuter flight, you might laugh, but a piece of it is already here! Check your web cam; I'll catch you on the flipside.
December 15, 2011

Jay,

I wrote this one car bomb (Drink) in, you should drink two before reading! The real one,

Not the light weight version. Preferably at home, or tied to a chair in a safe place with friends

Lag time....

This is where I bust one off just for you. It's in the electric fracture that emanates

and pulses, the magnetic firing unseen, yet felt, when anything might break loose, that moment of no answer, no determined result. I know you've freaked that situation, you know just how that moment feels, like total absorption in 360 degrees, it's the lag time that separates us, when all becomes real, or semi, and the speed of your senses makes or breaks the deal, we both run on the high side so moderation is very important. "Non-burn means, no bail needed." Not the other shit! Think about what I've said and go from there.

Lag Time...

time flows like water

an enduring force of

unstoppable will

seconds grabbed and held

suspended in waves

a chip, a wafer, the eyes

not all succumb to

stamp your place

on staggered ground

step to, or step off

all definitions erased

the origin, the space

acceleration boy

it's a melt, a taint

heartbeats

over two bills

the spark fires all 8

churned and chewed

blistered and bruised

in the chase

remains 2nd place

lag time...

who owns that shit?

Only you do

without walls

without trace

your fate

in flash

un captured

holds infinite

when key and lock

wed and turn

in and through

the after burn

another breath

another blink

you live to see

one more escape

That advice is a little sketchy at best, because right now, my auto insurance premiums are on a launch pad at Cape Canaveral, and that ship ain't coming down very soon.
December 20, 2011

It was never about money...

It's been a long, tough, road and I know there are few people in this world, who would have ever put up with me, so I need a little more than my standard lines for her Christmas card.

Where We Lay Forever

freedom lies in

the unending heights

of the soft light

upon us,

your eyes

grown and giving

the flush of cheeks

a gentle sigh

and all our senses

lay in trance,

your skin

an open canvas

the brush

and broad stroke

an oil splash

of forever rush

in tender sweat,

hold tighter

the world is silent

now all time sleeps

the key unlocked

our bond in sheets

my wish delivered

on the stars you guide

no greater moment

holds my sight

and from these lips

a whisper floats

i love you

By now, I would think it's safe to say, you know what my favorite gift is!
December 21, 2011

I went to see "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" last night with my daughter.

I was glad she went because we don't spend time doing much together or talking about any major stuff. She usually just rolls her eyes at me because she's seen my battles with mania and drug use, it has left a mark on her that can never be totally erased, and at times it's frustrating. I'll always bear the burden of my actions but I completely understand her feelings, so I do the best I can to be a good father to her and take her love in the moments she forgets the past.

In some ways it might help her in the future to deal with any unforeseen conflict or struggles, she doesn't know how proud I am of her and the possibilities in her future; she will do quite well in any path she chooses. And on the flipside, the same goes for my son, who has already graduated from college and is doing well for himself. When your kid becomes your loan shark you know it's time to bust some moves...
December 25, 2011

CHRISTMAS MORNING...

As a child, I was always the first one up and that still remains true today. And the snow has just started to fall, that's why I believe in the signs, in dreams, there's more than we know, far more, so much more.
December 26, 2011

For Christmas I got a copy of the movie "The Ninth Gate", maybe not the best thing to watch over the Christmas holiday, I admit, I hesitated putting it on, eventually I got bored, so I said, fuck it, and stuck it in.

~ ~ ~

HEAVEN AND HELL

I am always fascinated with the written interpretations of each, and all the artistic portrayals between good vs. evil, spiritual enlightenment and demonic possession throughout the course of time. Often I weigh my own actions and thoughts against each and it seems to be a never ending tug of war, not to long ago I was looking at some artists from the 15th century Italian renaissance period and came across a painting of a man holding a scale, on one side a demonic figure grabbing his leg, the other side was a maiden, the scales were tipped on the darker side of things.

Hells return

the surging tides have come

battered shores cry to dying stars

the moon cares no more

the sun shines darkness

on blacker soil he whispers

i return for true belief

on city streets and dirty alleys

he smiles

condoms used twice spell decay

worn and frail, tattered and bound

testaments unfound

we wait

his arrival foreshadowed

his sign...

spews forth from volcano's

bodies strewn en masse

he carves the rotting flesh

of those already dead

we eat what's left behind

he laughs...

the play, one act to follow

one finger to coerce, to entice

to believe, to swallow, to return to fire

to bathe in the ashes

to toll his bell

to hang from the dead tree

I don't really need to tell you who, "He" refers to...right?

That was written a couple of years ago, and some of it was dealing with all the turmoil taking place around the globe, and the struggles among different religions and countries. The Middle East and the West, It also has the connotation of nuclear war a.k.a., "One finger to coerce!" Along with my own personal struggles

Anyway, before I got off track, I was thinking about my own scale. That thing pivots so much, Up/down/all around, it's working overtime and like a windmill, but the way I look at it, when I get to the end and finally bow down, I know it will be a true test of forgiveness, how it ends. Well, that's something to be determined no doubt.
December 27, 2011

I should have written it down......

I've spent over two hours trying to find the artist and painting I was talking about earlier. I could be one click away or two hundred. Its wild how one little thing that grabs your attention and it can take you down a path you'd probably never travel, I like art, but if any of my friends had asked me before now if I'd ever spent my free time searching through Italian / Renaissance painters, I would have laughed at them and asked who was crazier? Some shit you don't tell your friends till they're seriously messed up, that's probably the only time they'd think I wasn't fucking with them.
December 28, 2011

Jay,

Keep moving forward; as I say don't sweat the bullshit, there will always be the ups/ downs in life, but you know where we go! Some people would kill for that, actually a better way to say it is, people die everyday trying to get that "Second to Second" adrenaline rush, the other piece outside the puzzle. I hope with time and experience you will learn to control that shit and find some balance in your life. I think I've said this before, so maybe it will stick.

Later
December 30, 2011

I've been thinking about the New Year as everyone does when it's here. Should I make some lame-ass resolution to work out again, or stop smoking?

I hate to even do it, knowing full well that the odds are pointing towards failure most of the time. Maybe I'll try to write a little more upbeat and not be so negative. I don't think the majority of people understand that some of it is programmed into your DNA., and you have to actually fight to rise above it, it's like a job sometimes and you might think this is bullshit and argue that it's a learned or consequential behavior from the formative years, which is true also, but as science breaks down the human mind and starts to dissect its pathways, strands, neurons and all that shit, I'm sure we will eventually know and understand every type of behavior, every impulse, rationalization. I mean way beyond what we already know, way beyond it.

I'm confident my assumptions will be validated to some degree.... Again serotonin, melatonin, dopamine and electrical impulses through the receptive make up of tissue matter, pathways of least resistance and all kinds of other variables.

An M.I.T. student could break that equation down fairly easy but for someone like me it's just round-about knowledge, partly learned through illness and experience, you key into it because it peaked my interest.

The only scary part is manipulation for all the wrong reasons... so much could be abused

And when it comes in small increments, the abuse builds slowly and you don't know till

Its all over you, similar to what's happening with identity theft and personal information today.

That would be my biggest concern, go to the store to choose the attributes of a child or eventually people will get sick of the sex bots and store order a "Grow-house" designer mate....its just logical progression, if that's what society demands it will be sold. To some degree it's been going on for a while, so I don't think this is totally far fetched. My gut tells me I'm right, and my fingers say write it. Yo, yo, for the burner's, I meant people up there, not the buds. Shit, when I started to get close to my New Years res. I find myself cataloging the future. See what I mean about the mind, and not setting a resolution, look where it took me.
December 30...continued

I can't remember exactly when I wrote this little Gem; it has a number of things going on in it, but one of the reasons it pops is that it does deal with communication on a few different levels, I'm pretty sure there was some "Stoner thought, MD" involved.

Wireless communication free for everyone....You laugh, and I laugh too. True now and future fronts!

Key Point Draw

at times it crawls at a snails pace

three remotes and a radio

osmosis, the unheard flailing

of lefts and rights

botanical mindsets won't save you

from the crowbar beneath the cracks

another dance, another song

tap shoes are not tap outs

but together entwined

equal technician

the understanding indifference

may not appeal to palette

but the smallest spot swept with pride

can be more than any dream

you subscribe to

three lines down it appears

an onboard computer

records it all

free flow

don't ask a question

of an answer known

vanity and bullshit

always show

One of my buddies was over the house one day I had two TVs and the radio on.

He asked me about it, and I laughed and told him that's how I learned or absorbed information (osmosis), I was media multi-tasking caveman style. I've known him since we were kids, so he wasn't overly taken aback by that little joke, but it drives my wife and the kid's crazy too. I leave shit on and walk off to another room, forgetting about it.

But the point of all this is... there is truth to some of it. Your mind keys in on what interests it, then you find yourself standing in front of the TV or if a song comes on that I like the stereo gets cranked, for me that's key point draw. It's the same thing they're doing with people who have Asperger's syndrome. Give them a computer and eventually they (mind) key's in on what interests them....free- flow somewhat. My problem is, I never really think about our energy bills though. Maybe I'll change that this year?
January 1, 2012

New Years morning

DOGS...

Last night I drank champagne from a beer mug; it tastes the same going down. Hey, why beat around the bush? The proper glass was not in the forecast.

But dogs, they have no concept of hangovers... It's 5:30 am, and that's why I'm here.

It's all routine, I got up to take a leak, throw up a little in the sink, and their day has officially started, but as much as I love animals, I don't want to live in the wild kingdom when I don't have my shit together. Well, I made that deal long ago, and now, I'm sacrificing some of my recovery for unconditional love.
January 7, 2012

POLITICIANS AND BIG BUSINESS...

I was just thinking about the founding fathers and the Constitution and how far things have been manipulated from original intent. I can deal with change within reason and integrity, but some things are getting way off-base, distorted, and manipulated for special- interest gains. I can actually see one of them with his head over a bucket gagging, and throwing up at what a monster has grown from those original documents.

~ ~ ~

EMERALD CITY...

The wizards, behind the 495 beltway, have been snorting way too much pixie dust... Our political system is out of control at the moment, but systematically sustained pressure, will force changes and restore some sanity to all of us. The whole process has really gotten quite inept. Wouldn't you agree?
January 11, 2012

PIRANHA MIST...

It started twenty years ago, I saw it winding and slithering in the airports, planes, hotels, city streets. Grey and hovering, the cloud I was breathing in, watching little fat men carrying brief cases and lap tops, their necks swollen, bursting for escape from the ties that chocked their necks, faces red and full in the panic of deadlines and life in a box. Yes, there were women to, some close to tears, talking to their kids in some other city.

On the streets of New York I listened to the laughter of cell phones and conquests. It was coming, building slowly squeezing life from donut boxes and chain restaurant pizza, and crumpled hamburger wrappers, slow and toxic. I could feel its blanket wrapping around this thing called life, my life, their lives, held hostage by a pace of carnivorous consumption, all praying to sky scrapers, rental cars, and limousines.

I saw the road ahead and I knew it would be poisonous. I was fortunate having been given access to foreshadowed events. I prepared myself with small incremental doses to build up the anti-bodies to face this futuristic plague. And these words were borne from the mist strangling body and soul, sight and sound!

Feeding frenzy!

Living in their corporate world

Cool calculating smiles

They sign the dotted lines

So others may not rest.

A nip here, a tuck there

Mergers, buyouts, downsizing

Their world is monopoly

Trembling hands roll the dice

The little dog barks

Go past jail

Onto St. James Place

Laughing at the royal legality of it all

Although others think

That it should not be so

And in their smiles

The light glistens

Shadowing ghost souls

Of shattered dreams

And tortured lives

Fallen beneath their paths

Piranhas,

Did you know they eat their young?

And other family members too

Did you know they devour

All around them

All including you

Spreading cell phone cheer

On city streets

Reveling in despair or

Riding in big-ass cars

Down along the Oceanside

Chumming it up with their mates

Or cruising for some fleshing beauty

Possibly a big-bosomed treasure

To show case at company events

OR maybe settling

For some lesser choice

Need be

Piranhas,

Did I tell you?

They eat their young

And when the feedings done

They come for you!

Sometimes it takes the sun a long time to burn away the fog. I'd say it's been pretty dense for far too long!

Xxx
January 12, 2012

Liquid thin line...

JOURNAL ENTRY... SPRING 2010

I was standing in the driveway out behind the old tenement house, grey was the day, time and date unknown, still spiraling through a manic lift, this time I had achieved new heights, suddenly I turned...there she was, a fair-haired young woman, with a plain face and drab clothing. We looked at each other, she looked sad, she had that kind of look like maybe I had let her down in some way, or I just looked like such a freaking mess to her, and there I stood, in complete wonderment. Come and gone...almost as quickly as she had appeared, for me it was a four second lifetime with her image plucked from a translucent sky.

I tried to rest my racing head; there are few who know the story well, naivety to exposure, dancing naked for the world to see, but I run with the wild dogs, taking only what is given from our Mother Earth. Be it man or some other destiny in optically bent light, my brain has become a super conductor of raw energy. A photosynthesis that can take me to the edge of fascination or the brink of despair, and if I catch the energy wave and ride this solar eclipse of mind, body, and soul on one incredible adrenaline zed flight

The world opens up and shows me all things connected, here, and beyond we speak together.

This month has been fruitful for me. The other night the sky held one star and moon.

Tonight I can see the stars through the cloud cover...Bright flashes and auditory smiles, little black lines fill the air.

End of entry

Honestly, I've never been so awestruck in my life, sure I was in wonder, but part of it was fear of myself witnessing something, or someone, not of this world and I've never being completely satisfied with any self-explanation trying to rationalize that moment. This was something quite different than any type of experience or vision, I had ever witnessed. Call it what you will? In that moment, I felt seriously "In play" between two worlds. Obviously, due to our difference in time zones, we weren't able to make a connection.
January 13, 2012

I'm here for the babes...

116

pencils...dots

and ticking clocks

in days' past

bricklayers and fireman

astrophysicists, too

before you walked

your path

it guided you

traded dreams

for a predetermined fate

molding the minds

of the masses

few can break the glass

and rise above

the moon, the stars

what takes you there

where anything goes

busta move here

116...

a dime short of rhyme

Seriously though, this was about a standardized IQ test we took in high school.

116, was my score, maybe a little more but that number sticks. I remember I was a little bummed out by the occupations it had listed for me. But it definitely answered the question of why I had such a fascination with windows. And in the end, I've pretty much ended up where it told me I would...funny how that works.

Although at the time, I just was way too stubborn to let a piece of paper tell me what to do. And with that statement, there in probably lays the other half of my problem!
January 19, 2012

ÉLAN VITAL

In the past there have been times when things get kicked up or accelerated so intensely that it's like being in a "molecular state" in some instances I felt like I was visually witnessing "energy admittance" from a persons body, similar to watching heat rippling off the pavement and other times, on a clear days, I would see hundreds of tiny flashes of light floating around in the air, like fire flies, but this was during winter when that went on, crazy ass shit, huh?

The clock never stops, the wheel keeps turning. I would just try to steal the moments when I could slow that shit down, which far easier said than done, slow things down to a pace where I could relax and enjoy the moments of the day, I had to steal them while I could, a bitch and not fun at all, but I've been afforded some seriously thick skin and it helps me fight through those situations.

Having lost some battles I've learned that you have to actually will yourself through it or you might give in and then you're in a seriously dangerous place if you can't rationalize what's happening inside you, uncertainty, paranoia or insanity will try to dominate and consume you.

Like I'll always say, for some people they think the other option, death, is their only way out, not my thing, and I hope anyone who might ever see these words will convey this to someone else, but I've lived through it so many times I understand completely how other people might view that as their only option. I've been to that edge so I can say this.

If I could tell one person how to get through that nightmare, I would tell them they have to fight for every second, every breath and move forward, sometimes minutes at a time, then repeat that sequence one after another and eventually the storm will pass, then you've gained some valuable knowledge and experience. The mind has given up a piece of the puzzle. But you have to want it. It's a fight to survive and survival is a serious teacher, learn from it, take the piece that's been surrendered and learn. That's truth!

And I know I've said this before, but practice makes perfect, or as close to it as you can get. For anyone who will never experience this state of mind, I can only tell you that it's one of the most gripping and difficult things any person could ever handle. Its psychological warfare within yourself, compounded with everything in the environment around you, the word "Intense" is almost an understatement when your "life force" is operating with that much juice running through it.
January 28, 2012

WHEN THE NIGHT, WEDS DAY

Before dawn favorite time of day, the world around me is so quiet that I can listen to the waking day, I'm always at peace, as the sounds rise, my pace wakes with them.

That's one of my most inspirational times I just ride the wave and let my thoughts find a subject, but inspiration often comes in flashes unannounced. I'd hate to count how many times I've had things come to me, only to watch them slip away because I had nothing to write them down with, or in a situation that didn't seem appropriate at the time, that my friends is a bitch, and I'm sure many others deal with the same frustration, "Easy come, easy go" as the brain flows, somewhere else holds another flash.

Years ago I lived in San Diego; it's just an awesome place area for anything... I wrote this at my favorite beach, in a flash, and the original copy has been lost over the years. Here are the fragments from my memory....

Torrey Pines

Sitting in the summer sun

Just watching...just breathe

Surfers, boogie boards

As the dolphins play among the waves

Entwined in the wonder of...

The beach in all its pristine beauty

Weds a gentle sea

Free to be one...

La Jolla's a dream

Del Mar behind, beside

At night...lights dot the sky

Like trees to the wilderness

This human space

Well known to man

Is just another day

Seen through

Southern Californian eyes
January 29, 2012

HEAVY FOG...

From a young age in my life drugs, and alcohol have always played some kind of part in my life, but I have never been able to walk completely away from them. I've said this before, probably somewhere in the earlier entries. That I've always felt the need to trample myself every once in a while, I will fight that urge till I drop, but last night was a good reminder of how much I have to be careful about getting totally annihilated, it definitely brings out a side of me that can be somewhat nasty, and holding negative consequences, like getting sucker punched!

Sucker Punch

for months, sobriety

had held steadfast

but it was a whisper

on the wind

and the gremlins

were hiding,

anxiously behind

my horizon

like a schooner

in the bay

with all sails ready

just one short voyage

with a pirates smile

another promise

turns to lie

my buddy

a metal fan

and I, his mate

set sail to Providence

as Children Of Bodom

ripped through the air

pounding, pulsing

in a heavy chants, and waves

their crescendo rose,

and a perfect storm

wrote it's symphony

in two words,

so easily said

"fuck it"

they got whiskey

at the back bar

my heart, my hand

pushing, dragging

my compass

into the pit

into the eye of it all

stage, lights, action

arms, and elbows, set free

bodies, tossing wildly

on an open sea

I wrestled with a beast

and forgot

about his crew

Boom!

I never saw the punch

or the main act

Hey, I'm Irish, so the best I can ever hope for is getting better at picking my spots, which basically translates to, learning how to live with some moderation when it comes to having fun.
February 2, 2012

Another morning of a thousand thoughts...

if i could tell you...would it change a thing?

every time the key is turned

a dice gets rolled somewhere else

could you believe?

your lover,

who lays with you forever

how the day job keeps it all real

and in the shadows of chase

would my words mean anything?

the race, the struggle

so much more

in the breath we share

a dream someday

you might be proud

We all want some form of validation in our lives. Up there, I was seriously questioning why I'm doing this at all.
February 5, 2012

Super Bowl Sunday...
February 6, 2012

FOOTBALL DEPRESSION...

I think, I'm pretty much like any fan who loves their team. It sucks to lose a big game,

And the after- party is about the only party I'd never recommend, but the Pats are still going to be solid contenders if they hold most of their free agents and sign some others on the free agency market. Plus they have the draft, and players that are still being developed in the system, personally I'll try not to let the loss get to me too much.

In the end it's a game, a sport and you go home when it's over...Remember there are places in the world where survival is a national sport, that's seriously fucked up!

Simple thought...

In this moment, I am nothing but a question mark to myself? And if you happen to read these lines, this is not a negative at all, but rather something I've learned over time, it's to objectively know myself inside, and out. And my own writing is complete shit right now and almost everyday I battle with the thought that I'm trapped in my own delusion or disconnect of writing, idea's and thoughts, all that stuff. And today, I feel like a hamster on a wheel, and will any of this, free me from my cage. Trust me, this is truth, but I made a commitment to myself to see this thing through, so I will roll on till the end of it.
February 7, 2012

MOAFA...

I might lay claim to this word if it doesn't exist somewhere else. In dream class, the priest was explaining about the "Cross over" and he said it was Moafa, but when I looked over at my buddy, he was shirtless and sporting three nipples, so I knew it was a freak show.

Wind worker

he crouched in silence

tranced in the tears

spilling over the loading dock

onto an asphalt parking lot

his past now chasing future

and I,

watching him, watch himself

gazing across the four-way stop

speaking to the wind

the unexplained

his medium

with blood stained eyes

he cried out

the bees a,nd bats are dying

the wind rose full force

as the maples wept and bent

from his hands,

he hushed them all

in sight, his anger, his dismay,

the sky his audience

again, he raised the wind

on his command.

the key....he said

comes and leaves

so quickly

as he grabbed the world

in moments

telling me

he'd hunted himself

removing all fear

of deaths last breath

to become

an element of all

and finding

the universes doorway

with nature

as the pivotal

turning point

learning

to follow the wind

and I,

as witness

removed all doubt

of any illusion

our coffee break

over now

he looked to the sky

with one last whisper

he left his home behind

through another door

we returned

to our day jobs...

He always has this look in his eyes, like he knows more than he's telling me. Never a dull moment, especially after 5:p.m.
February 12, 2012

ONE SHOT...

The space I work from has become quite stagnant, and uninspiring. I need to make a change of scenery, switch some shit around, put some new pictures on the wall, try to spark some creativity...You know, change the scene, change the dream, something like that.

Right now, I find myself returning to some of the best photographs I've taken in the

White Mountains, a few of them never developed and I'm wondering how long will it take before those conditions repeat themselves, then I can attempt to recapture the images etched into my mind. One shot could change everything, one shot could change that haunt, and the thought of that happening gives me something to look forward to, because I know in time, another opportunity will present itself again, and in that valley

There's never any shortage of inspiration.
February 13, 2012

RIMBAUD...

Yesterday I started to re-arrange my room dusting off the books that had collected far too much dust. I picked up a complete version of Rimbaud's work in English, of course, and as I read the introduction again I felt somehow connected to him in some small way, of course not at the level of his writing, but definitely in the way he scribbled and sometimes wrote in fragmented pieces.

And I laugh to myself, every time I say Rimbaud, After all I wouldn't even begin to have known about or ever have read anything by him, if it wasn't for a painter named Spiros. We used to drink together once in a while, at a bar in lower Manhattan.

He was way beyond anyone I had ever known when it came to art, it was his life, and with a little side action, he made enough of a living to survive in New York, Which tells me in unspoken terms, he had a lot of shit going on. But I seemed to amuse him enough, for him to take the time to steer me to certain writers, or other areas of art, which I would have remained clueless about, to this very day, and combined with the fact we both loved our cocktails and stargazing out across humanity, we had some fun no doubt.

Dream World

Dare not follow

The melt

Can be a savage bitch

The expectations often flounder

With so many intrusions of thought

All gentle persuasion has died

In the nights smoky glaze of slumber

When self is released

To another or others

The friends of tried and true

Run across the night sky

With stick figure precision

In circular time, and exacting tries

Their probing reward

Not gold, not pretty dances

Not anything ever seen by another

The host and persuader

Director and invader

Wrestles in puppet strings

To steal the breath from a sword

To take the hand from a gun

To push and pull with might

On secret highways

Where time holds no bounds

A course, a chart, the plan

Holds a varying plea

The earth, the stars,

The moon and sun

All answer to

Some other command

Not of this world

Beyond, beyond

The infinite plane

Where eye and brain

Can follow no more

Never on demand

Is any outcome or cry

And when those dreams escape

Like friends and love

Expecting outcomes

And paper chases

Those little atmospheric warriors

Appointment checkers,

And pace setters

Choosing time,

Choosing place,

Delivering fate

And somehow

Things gets done

Eventually,

But always

At their discretion
February 15, 2012

Today feels like the day I start expanding the edges of thought, short and concise are nice, but limit the breadth and depth of capacity. I will run to, and through all energy, I will try to harness the super highways of timeless waves, some say it's a crunch, and stretch, but the impact point, is the joint I want to be in, oh yeah!

YOU

I've yet to find

moments creep in...

vanquished

as quickly as they came

a hideous tingle

wrestled and slipped free

I'D SAY GO AWAY

but your path still escapes me

on this journey or pursuit

my eyes know,

no perfection

you

are never-ending...

The little voice that says "I can't", Always a work in progress...

~ ~ ~

CLOCK IT

I'm chasing the shadows of other's; it's dreary out so the trail will wait, after all

I can always pick the date, but when the sun shines, most times any date becomes irrelevant, after all I work outside my dreams....

In what has become a barren landscape of thirsty crawling insects waiting to see if they can withstand a serious cloud of atomic rain, like a turtle in the desert sand, left in the aftermath some years ago, and this thing they call time, crunched and stretched is only the prelude to total impact. Time is a funny thing when you know how to use it, like really know how! After all it's someone else's show. The admissions free and the final act is audience participation, how could anyone not love that.

The parameters of time...

There was a time in my life when time and the expectations of time held me captive in a stranglehold. And I admit it took some failures to find that time and society's definition of time as being someone's window of opportunity. Eastern Standard, Central and Pacific, have all started to lapse into personal irrelevance.

But probably half-way through this shift, I had made my decision to abandon any expectations dealing with time, my windows of opportunity have come, gone and re- emerged as often as I wake to a new day. I definitely run outside the norm of society,

Yet I struggle with the feeling that if I don't accomplish my goals within a certain time frame, I will have somehow failed in the expectations of myself.

I get sucked into what I think I should be doing based on the parameters set by some invisible standard for achievement and success.

I'm in my own show, why do I need to be defined in someone else's...that's bullshit to me! I had to fall and crawl and beg on my knees to get this show, get this life back

Everything else after that is on a list of what now, and what next, on my terms...it's a beautiful thing and no one can ever steal from me.

Oh sure, I remain respectful of time, when work calls I'll get there, survival dictates that, but there are no more timers on my back per say, no scrawny fingers pushing down on me, no puppet parade deadline, no scary bosses hold my fate, I could jerk off right now, if the moment and mood lent itself.

I'm pretty much free wheeling as far as time goes, and that to me is a beautiful thing, you age differently, But with all that said, I remain respectful for the people trapped in time, some things don't work for everybody, and I'll be the first to admit that. If I make it to 60, I might get serious about some shit I do. Now, do you see what I'm talking about? Time always wants you. Remember where I started this dance...
February 16, 2012

IN DREAMS

The coffee maker kicked it; the dream was a blank, the outcome yet determined on this sea of fate and in this ring of radio fire. My hopes and wishes I've left to yesterday, ray guns and altitude will not deter my unbreakable will and unbending faith....today I remove the hatred and anger of futile chases and wherever I went, I brought something home, a marker, a sign, some heavy juice, how and why matter not. It gave me another entry in this wicked little game. Who's got the best gig going?

Every day something new for me, Thanks again, my invisible friends, Although this morning I've developed some signal issues, "switch it up" as they say, because the pace and rhythm of cigs and coffee are one wheel off in a maddening race. Time wants me again!

Who knows when I wrote this, but it is amusing in some dark comical truth way.

Test subject # 2

running at a sonic pace,

once learned becomes the gate or pathway

In silence, your eyes become the code.

cerebral the engine

forbidden sights never spoken of

twisting reality, or is reality twisting sight

from the knowledge of yet to come is to know

that science waits for their subjects to unfold

the mind gives way to running reels

a hamster on pace with atomic clocks

the next step in evolution

your projection

very few get to pass through that vapor

where future becomes fantasy

and fantasy is reality

deep...even deeper

we all truly love ourselves

the perceived perfect world

is closer than you think

in contentment we find sedation

without strife, without flux

biased are the equations

cryogenics is child's play

the hidden object, closer than you think

it can be cloned without any sort of splice

and the window creaks again

it's amazing how the shine never leaves it alone

but from here we're onto flowers

and from there the stem it blooms

in partial transplant first,

for the good of all

before the corn arrives

standing in the pet store of no return

your cage awaits

take some food before you enter

not the corn no doubt

the other application remains guarded

see what's been tasted

no words define

test subject # 2

I would say I probably ate a shit load of that corn, but knowing my attitude, I'm sure someone had to forcibly spoon feed it to me. Anyway it leaves a lot to think about?
February 18, 2012

Yesterday I busted free for a little while, stepped off the sidewalk and into the street

to remind myself I am still alive and will never be completely subdued under any circumstances....To be concise, one word say's it all " Untamed"...

SELF HEALING

So many times I've ripped myself apart, watching the ones I love suffer through my own reckless behavior. Fighting a masochistic battle within myself, the pleasure/pain principle, you know all that shit. Repeating the self inflicted and collateral damage

Full well knowing that way more times than not I would pay a heavy price in trade.

But through sheer failure and pain, I have become better at dealing with the toughest part of my war, the psychological grip of excessive self indulgence. "It's the old lesson, till you get seriously thumped upside your head, you don't get the message." And I can tell you, they don't teach that lesson in school.

Sinew

The gnawing, ripping tear

A man, his flesh

A grander illusion

Vibrating through

The marrow of his bones

While the heavens tug and pull

An unknown course

Beckons once more

To cut the rope

To ride the eye of hurricanes

To hit the spectrum

No mans conceived

Hidden within

The madness of a storm

To be set adrift,

Outside of time

To walk between

Two worlds as one

Searching for A home

In the Blood and scars

Of sinew and bone

Another dying crawl

On trails of stone
February 19, 2012

Quite often before sleep comes, I will try to visualize where it is I want to travel. I've been known to rack up a lot of frequent flyer miles in one night.

Space Walk

on the silent highways of earth

we stand

in view of the unseen

through quiet sleep

silhouetted dreams call

to the many traces of footsteps

held in distraction

the short burst of images

are sidewalks of thin rest

slipped into the deepest route

we dig, hustle, and claw

in over thought

on the circuits of magnetic pulse

precisely mixed in mineral doses

Could you climb inside a dream

outside our stated galaxy

scratching canyon walls

or swimming deepest sea

to kiss the tops of pyramids

without parameters

without memory, rhyme or reason

released in beams of light

split between the darkest backdrop

over stratospheric beacons

of accepting eyelids

and receptive souls.

If you truly believe

a ride might be granted

a spacewalk, without a toll

never promised, never sold

for few it happens

to know the truth

an experiment

in someone else's world

as the beaker gains steam

will the blend find perfection

in Sunday morning thought?

Personally, I can tell you some serious truth, if you think conventionally, Well, that might help you earn the duckets, but that don't get you to the serious frontiers A.S.A.P!

M.O. M., for the dope player's and that ain't my mommy I'm talking about!
February 20, 2012

I asked for a deep sleep last night and it was given, when I awoke there wasn't a trace of anything, a blank slate just what the doctor ordered, like film without a face.

February 22, 2012

My horizon for the short, says "street rat"

and that's when creativity steps up to bat

So the goodness in my heart

will be poured into a churning vat.

One thing I know right now, I gotta scavenge shit to earn a roll, I'm not talking stripper bills, they only get you the tease, I need some serious bank, and right now that's, $20 in the tank, a six pack in my hand ,and some fresh smokes in the top left pocket.
February 24, 2012

INSIDE OUT...

I've been reminded its Friday, who would have known where I've flown to this time?

I'm in a zone where I don't give a shit about anything that isn't in my immediate reach.

Trivial Pursuit

Superior minds with blinders on

The lesson....of Asian persuasion

The greatest ammo never fired

The round not chambered

Ears that burn white hot

Eyes that see for miles

Toes that stub and bleed

So close you can think it

End game

Need an explanation, I'll give you one. This was about war, and the struggle for power, and often discarding the right pieces in the pursuit of finding peace, and stability around the globe. The hardest part about this game is... it isn't meant to be self-serving.
February 25, 2012

CHESS...OFF THE BOARD

I often refer to life moves as chess move's, everyone does it knowingly or not.

The other night I watched a segment on "60Minutes" about Anish Giri, a young Russian/ Dutch chess prodigy, and in the discussions about his brilliance, There was the question of the exacting toll it eventually takes on the mind, a la Bobby Fischer, so I thought to myself, two opposing minds so keyed into each other, sometimes for hours, the board in before them and the ocean between them, how many fluctuations in their bio rhythms, their neurotransmitters, incredibly fast, to slow, and then cruise control, at that level pretty much every move is known, studied and played at some point over time... the flow of energy/thought in such a tight triangle, pieces of each passing through from one to the other, a mind-stain exacting its toll.

So what's the real deal?

The difference between great and brilliant I have a my idea, but it's unconventional and bordering on insanity, and if you choose to use this methodology, projection or imposing your mental willpower for serious periods of time, it will fuck you up, it will etch on you, and then, the question becomes, can you build a wall to corral the rest of the brain that wants to run away from that torture test.

Laugh, I've seen it done...

Earlier this year I was Worcester Ma., and my buddy Chris and I were stopped at a traffic light. On the median strip, was an old man looking confused and trying to find a pathway through the traffic. My buddy says "Watch this", he makes eye contact with the old man.

I don't know how he did it but I watched the old man's eyes follow his as he lead him across the street, to the front of our car, and onto the sidewalk. The old man just looked back at him almost dumbfounded, like his body was being controlled by someone else, and he was just a spectator along for the ride, totally amazing to me. I still picture it every once in a while, like it was yesterday, and my buddy, he's just a regular dude, by society's definition. Can you imagine what these chess wizards roll out? Just a thought, what do I know, I to have been "Rick rolled" on "youtube"!

And from this little story, I gave you my thoughts on chess, and the battle between brilliance and catastrophe. Or maybe it was just twisted logic?

Morrison

sucked deeply into the eyes of wild loathing

a reckless, moaning primal urge

on a broken glass sidewalk

his tattered pages piercing

a semi-tarnished copperhead

who could not want that office?

the funk and fuck of twisting hills

those days blurred and hazed

the numbing phrases

scribbled on stained paper

bending in a guttural maze

with the lights off

and the summer thunder cracking

heat and lightening in torrid breath

a young screeching hero echoed

out the window as a transformer blew

surreal to be in two storms at once

a little ball scratcher, window wishing

amazed in the moment

a perfect blend, in perfect time

even the young theme in two's

i would eat some lizard

expand the unending universe

reach for his heights

falling into the depths of failure

still high

he soared above the dreams

of reach, the running grasps

at colored skies

searching for another way

still walking the crooked lines

whiskey, wedding oblivion

or any poison that summoned

the desert of beyond

and now with eyes inward

a man child, still tangled

in the cobwebs, standing still

watching his face etch like canyons

bones withering in the seconds of haunt

on the asphalt of a diamonds grace

for now the summers bang gives way to

the hum of a server

whispering the unfound addresses

and every stroke of thought would be

a lie to say

the challenge of the chase

is tracing the paces

scuffing at his footsteps

riding the soul of a mans shoe

still roaming

outside the blisters of boundary

Since childhood, I've always loved "The Doors" and Jim Morrison's style of writing, and his depth of reach, into his soul. The way he wrote, his own parallax, the angles of approach, basically the way he looked at the inside and outside of everything that pulsed around him. He pushed the limits, in all ways of life, stretching himself and the personal struggles he lived with. I will always be drawn to any person who battles with issues.

The above was written about my own attempts at trying to find my own path, my own style, my own shit, and the disconnect I struggle with. Illness, in some ways is a beautiful and dangerous thing for some artists, 'cause sightlines often come from different perspectives but trying to fit them into something considered normal and understandable can be a bitch. As I've gotten older I've realized, Hey, this is me, this is my style, my view, I don't always see things the same way that a lot of people might.
February 26, 2012

Capitalism with Integrity...A Poor Mans Search

Capital hill and Capitalism

The thinnest line

Unchecked

In 2's

?

Kinda looks like an upside down pyramid to me.

Personally, I really don't give a shit about how much money someone earns, for me it comes down to how you earn it. Do you outsource your own country to squeeze out maximum profit margins, and gaming the system leaving a trail of bones in the after-burn while the people or country they fuck over clean up their messes. Or do they operate within the principles of integrity? I honestly don't know how some people and companies sleep at night these days.
February 27, 2012

POWER SLIDE...

Last nights dream brought hurricane winds and destruction somewhere in this playoff game? Oh yeah, today is a 27 thousand foot glide, we'll see where the ride takes us.

Then again a bomb dropped strategically could have the same effect...that's on the board.

It's still all bluff and tease that prolongs the media's squeeze on the green goop and a flaccid retina's droning, circled, cycles of fear infecting progress and stability. Herding the beef into pens for further research on the newest synthetic feed, that might put the heavens at ease, but the guys I talked about, they call all the shots and maybe they spent the weekend in Thailand again, safe for a couple more days.

~ ~ ~

A TRAFFIC STUDY

The daily grind...

Subaru's and car seats, granola bars with hippie rainbows trailing me, little stick figure families on windows. I want to turn those fuckers upside down so bad. Why does anyone feel the need to broadcast their family tree on the window of a car? Oh yeah! This is definitely a traffic study on economic and psychological indicators contributing to, side and rearview mirror cynicism.

On a road of 5 o'clock stops and starts, every car that pulls up, behind, beside and in front, I watch the faces of blank stares holding back the dread and anxiety, not a smile to be found at this particular moment in time, and I wonder is my look, close to there's, but I don't really need to ask that, the shutter frames are snapping off rapid fire. In every direction I look.

The leopard print, semi- cougar driving the Range Rover, with a Maui sticker on the bumper, how's her makeup hold during sex? And how many like my self, on this particular day, are all faking it, just skimping by, dreading tomorrows slap, but I was high, so I became an insect, stuck on my windshield, holding on, looking inside, at myself, the zombie driving, unaware that it was I, said insect, that held my own fate. All I needed to do was let go, find another way out of my sedentary madness.

And how many thoughts were captured in our steel cages inside this little traffic situation, You know the ones, no words required, the lights are red, but in your head is a race track of revolving scenario's.

Fuck, this sucks being broke, I feel like I'm eating dirt, I might have to crime it, if I don't get back to work soon. That kid over there, twenty three maybe, with no direction, living paycheck to paycheck, with a job that could change at anytime, I know that look, I know how that scene might play out, I want to bang on his window and tell him about all the mistakes I've made along the way, because I get the distinct impression he's got no one in his life to guide him. He's "winging it" my "Street sense" is all over that one.

And I'm no better by any means, probably more of an offender than most, actually definitely more, hey, what can I say it's just the way the machine is running right now, and I'm sitting in traffic.
February 28, 2012

LONDON CALLING

Sent an e-mail to the Syrian ambassador in London, it's a bitch to get to the players inside Syria right now because the telecom minister isn't taking calls. I'll wait to see what London has to say, I'm sure consulate wasn't thrilled about hearing from me!

There's a tsunami below the surface of hypocrisy that can't be denied, it's just that the old guards can't handle the speed of change or parting with the money they make raping and pillaging common people. I have no fear in that assertion and I know there are millions of others that share those beliefs.

You can only fuck people over for so long before they turn wild, and bite back. I'm totally down with that shit, when that becomes the only option for freedom.
March 12, 2012

TORNADO'S AND VAMPIRE'S...

Some time's when I question my cynicism and sanity, I'm always reminded by the

media that I might be better off than I give myself credit for. Tornados have been tearing through the Midwest and the South this year, during a news broadcast a reporter is talking about the tornado devastation and loss of life in Harrisburg Ill, and Branson Mi, as the camera pans on a building totally devastated, the camera zooms in for a close up of a sign still intact. "Natures Sunshine" I don't know maybe it's just me? But thanks for reinforcing my beliefs that vampire's still exist!

Ya, I totally understand the concept of subliminal messaging in the advertising and media, but even that "Free for all" needs some sort of ethical standards.
March 13, 2012

Dream day, dream moments

PARKING VIOLATION # 31312

A mule in an 8mm snuff flick, buckling at the knees struggling to drag

Itself towards the water's edge, each scuff of a bleeding knee raises the barren earth

Into the scorched air, sun drenched in black, the muffled squeals grow tired. As the vultures swoop down picking off its flesh, the mule, with a horrid, panicked look, its seen this moment before. The last walk, the thinning of the heard, the end of all struggles, It is death, before death arrives, now standing alone, to face his killers as they circle, frothing at the mouth, lunging, tearing strikes, rip at his limbs, his eyes glazed and white, even in death he knows, in the jungle, it's survival of the richest and the most lethal men around.

~ ~ ~

THE SECOND DREAM DIAL

Sitting before the blue screen, the music is rocking the walls. In the circular chaos, a million eyes bounce in the smooth filter of creation while the young guns are loose again.

In this moment, my fingers are deep in the pie while a miniature horse chases me around the circus ring. And the networks have become targets of exploitation, could I call the sky and make all the bells jingle, open the lines up, down, sideways and around to watch it all get fuck trampled and y snapped like a fine-blended strike from the gods, producing a power shift to the pawns.

Free will and revenge get tasted on the particulate highways. But when I awake, I'm in a jester's suit smeared in jelly and the face inside a 50-inch screen TV is laughing. I'm poor so I can't bust a cap off, and my other suits in the wash, a quick ass check shows no blood so I know it's not a nightmare, even still I don't think I like this dream very much. I wanted to be the director, not the actor....It's always better to give than receive!

~ ~ ~

THE TRAIL-OFF BEFORE THE WAKE...

In the beginning I was watching them scale above it all, nothing more than a spectator

Splashed into a child watching the burn as quickly as they came, the sickle and the swing,

the aftermath, left in ash and grey smoke, in the village of death.

Survival, to fend alone, hammer and stone I earned my bones, my way forward

Always hidden on some edge watching my oppressors work and learning to live, fight and die between it all, to breathe in forever and steal back the days.

That was yesterdays breath, another lifetime, today is new. Only struggle knows the joy of victory and the horse I've stolen from a former killer is now mine, swinging the hammer and sickle, I've become the hunter, the extractor.

The Semi-Wake...

Tortured and fighting for minutes...Still the images cling, and my dirt-laden body

Is eating half raw, it's an arm from a killer. The sickle and my horse are smiling.

I haven't known real joy till this moment, and upon finishing my foe, I hear the gods speak from the sky "Leave behind what you can't feel, to live in the moment's breath your life will be longer!"
March 14, 2012

15 TO 30 AMP CONVERSION...

Today, I'll let my conduit take control, reset any breakers that trip, and restore the power to its proper voltage. I'm thinking a twenty amp, will do the job. Although I do have a history of blowing transformers up!
April 6, 2012

HALF THE BATTLE

As the weather has started to shift into spring, the last few days of warmth and sunlight have produce a major shift in my whole body, more elevated in mood and physically charged, definitely a state of healing.

In this moment I am still attempting, I have not given in or given up on myself and my goal, all the while knowing that with a little more effort and a short amount of time, I will complete what I had started out to do, and for most of this effort, I can honestly say it never seemed dissatisfying or insurmountable. Little by little shit got done, way more than I ever imagined.
April 19, 2012

Structurally Intrigued

(u) =

these little black dots

flash arcs

another tig burn

in a confined space

leaves it's retinal trace

i'll watch them float forever

torched again

twice today

another friend is welcomed

another ray sees black

do (u) believe in the pyramids?

how many lessons circle the shape?

i just broke the chain again

but the lines stayed in check

like a cell to recovery

instant and surgical are response

deflecting shields

are projecting atoms

cylindrical and condensed

intersecting energy evaporates

all nonsense

put the missiles to rest

before the invite gets to dine

primitively speaking

when simplicity is lost

the foundation collapses

Mayan is closer

although the angles reflect duplicity

they say that shit is crazy-ass

architecturally speaking

the equation holds madness

along with some solid math and mass

the standard poured

density is lasting

the weight unfound

the design close to flawless

and how many bends will make shit roll?

Calculation: one

together we search diameter

go back to the strands that hold the most

hidden answers are in code

everything could possibly be

a variant off of

cloning the atomic structure

always two steps behind

two steps closer

still chasing the dots

fear is losing sight of the equation

no triangle left behind

skin deep

we all rise

closer to the sun

You might think I was in outer space on that one, but I was on the ground, accelerated yes, and even under those circumstances the answer to that equation remains quite simple.
April 20, 2012

BUT OFFICER

It's really amazing sometimes to see some of the changes my mind went through at times. When I wrote "Structurally Intrigued", a day later upon return, I couldn't even come close to replicating the original diagram of a ship... whatever it was that accompanied these lines, in this moment it's brutal, I have everything in front of me. The printed picture, the computer auto shapes, yet even with all that, I can't come close to the moment that led me through the creation or speed of that diagram and some of the lines with it, it was like someone else was guiding me through the process.

Wildly out in the stratosphere or grounded in the scenery of life....Shit will always come in flashes and of its own will. Cruise control baby, sometimes I break the speed of sound, other times it's a total crash landing. I just never know where the ride will take me.

By the way officer, how fast were we going?

Changing with light...

another cyclical wave

of rhyme and reason

becoming the pieces of seasons

all changing with light

and to the sun

I run forever.

And if you were to ask me about the future, I would tell you as the world get's more complex in the platforms of evolution and technology, one thing has remained constant throughout time. Human nature, the good, the bad, and all that lies between them, all are the building blocks for change.

Complexity always finds simplicity, that might sound idealistic, but I would seriously say, just stop for a minute, look at everything around you, inside and out.

If you took the time to truly examine yourself for even a minute, things we thought were once complex are now so simple that we take them for granted, and even the highest form of complexity, (u) have the ability to strip away the all superficial things in life and find that the most basic elements lay inside us, Those simple basic needs of mankind, haven't and never will change. They remain constants in all of us.

~ ~ ~

Perfect morning

Waking to a gentle sun

The warmth invites possibility

Gazing across the yard

Birds singing the rhythms of life

Early work for the newborn

Peaceful moments

Hold what dreams may come

Past turmoil's are softened in rays

The surrounding world

Not adverse

Rather a friend yet met

With calmness comes inner peace

Where true heart lives

Basic needs and love

Become a completion of the whole

Old is new again

Hope holds a perfect morning
PARTING THOUGHTS...

A higher level is already here. The "(u) = triangle" equation is infinite, if we can just break the rise and fall cycles in our world's history and follow a logical progression into the future, from there the skies become limitless. Know what I mean? Of course (u) do!

And with all that I've said and done to this point in time. I can summarize it all in one line. "You might be down, but you're never out, in this game of life!"

Later.
