catharcyst

2011-01-25T13:53:00.000-08:00

left this space for posterous. all my archives have been migrated. new place is unsub thanks.

2010-12-29T19:53:00.000-08:00

Eclipsed Eye

Climbed into that wall hanging outside my back
trapped in that crawlspace of misdemeanor
Antennae engorged for Mayan signals
I corrected the approach of phoenix
In the embers of our eclipse
Lunar spilled a winter thorn
into the apple red

2010-12-05T17:15:00.000-08:00

Tactile Revulsion

In this our dystopian fright mode
my fingers displaces her atmosphere
She convulses and ferries the real to Charon
and preens for my avatar
I prep a social myth and hack in deep
She tags my wall and we hook up
I am king for the stretch of an IM
I am muted on the end of the last packet
He pimps for her avatar
They drag me to the edge of my acquaintances
I supply the red for an artificial bloodline
that haunts me even after a million disconnects
Here we strip naked in the big iron
but we won't touch the real
Here we blow peace and utopia
but the war has bolted your bedroom
Sometimes I catch her twitching in the market
she spills wide with revulsion
I try not to unplug when reality is imminent
I stitch my fingers to the keys and fake it

2010-12-01T19:30:00.001-08:00

Minaj Monster Inc

Nicki gutted Kanye's monster
She butchered the minotaur
with the sickest verse
since Hip Hop thirsted
for authentic blunts
From Curren$y to Khalifa
the new revolution skinned the norm
separated fresh from chaff
Minaj from Kim and hating kin
Monster rap from cooperate fizz
Straight up bleed flow
introducing Big K.R.I.T.

NewRule.avi

2010-11-28T18:51:00.000-08:00

spoken word techspeak into the heart of future breath

2010-11-23T19:58:00.000-08:00

2010-11-13T14:53:00.000-08:00

My Friend Came Back From The Future

My cellphone rang like an omen in the early morning. I was stuck to my bed like a digital leech. The Linux netbook lay in suspension to my left side while the desktop computer repeated a nightmarish screensaver. I reached for the cell and missed. My fingers tipped it to the floor with it's digital lungs still screaming out. As soon I grabbed it, the phone went mute, then a voicemail kicked in.
On the cusp of dawn I walked up to Pitkin avenue to check Miranda. I met her distraught and smoldering.
"What's going? I asked. She threw her hands up in the air.
"I dunno where the fuck he is man."
"You said he went to the bodega to get a 40?"
"Yea at 2:30 in the fucking morning. Said he couldn't sleep. wanted to take the edge off."
"I know how it is man. I get the same urges." She watched me like I was an irritant.
"Not our fault, you know how it is." She looked exasperated.
"No I don't know how it is with you black men, just fucking find him okay?"

I hit up the bodega but they didn't know anything. When I called her to explain she slammed down the phone. She didn't speak to me for the next seven years. He called me seven years later. My heart nearly capsized and then hell climbed into my head. I cursed him like a gutter mouth whore but he responded in a zen like geeky voice. He told me to meet him in the nearby Starbucks. He was adamant about not revisiting his old haunts which also included my apartment. My temperature rose another whole degree but I agreed. It would be orgasmic to eviscerate him no matter where we met.

A completely different Terrence stood before me. He had rebooted more than three sixty degrees from his previous incarnation. I felt a tsunami shock hit me. Gone were the long dreads, hip hop clothes and paranoid fidgeting. His skin shimmered healthy and the Tattoos had disappeared. He wore geek glasses, brand new slacks and a yuppie shirt. He held a smartphone in one hand and a tablet PC in the other. I felt like a bug under his scientific stare and my anger leaked from my pores. He sensed my vehemence and slid onto the chair opposite me.
"Well what do you think?" he said. I tried to speak but nothing came out.
"What do you think man?" You are not going to ask me what's going on?" I flew up from the seat. A few people turned to watch.
"I need a fucking drink man." He just smiled and said.
"K I will wait there for you and explain everything when you get back." Starbucks turned to watch me leave.

When I came back he was gone. I ran to Miranda's but nobody was home. I banged on the door and kicked it repeatedly but nobody came out. Their phone had also gone dead. I was about to leave when somebody tapped me on the shoulder almost freaking me out.
"What the fuck?" It was an old Latino lady who lived in the next apartment. She handed me a strip of paper and slipped back into her hole. There was an email address on the paper. I grabbed a 40 ounce at the bodega, drinking it while I stomped back to my apartment. I wanted to be properly soused before I even touched the computer. I wanted to curse him to kingdom come and do it with the sickest vitriol ever written by a mortal. His email reply changed my space and time forever. My inebriation and toxic rage evaporated slowly into the ether like so many regrettable things.

The night Terrence disappeared he was thirsty like the desert. He had tried to chill on the booze on that day but the thirst returned with a vengeance after midnight. He tried to hold out but at two thirty he gave up. They were outside the bodega waiting, strange looking men grasping strange computers. They gave him a choice. He could keep drinking and fall further away into a black hole of the past or follow them to the future for a chance to detox forever and change his fate. He had chosen the latter. They made him stare into a sinister looking webcam and everything fell away. The bodega disappeared yet it was the same street. The bodega was now a tech building with technology that had not been invented yet. Machines cleaned and trained him for seven days in all kinds of subjects from Artificial intelligence and hybrid calculus to bio-engineering and Eco-ethics. He never slept and didn't feel the need too. He rested on the seventh day and returned that night. It was the only other time that he saw the men who had recruited him. They were his handlers and they brought him back to the exact hour that they had taken him seven years before.

I sat back from the computer and rubbed my eyes. I felt lightheaded. The room seemed to swim out of orbit. I needed another 40 ounce to pull me back to reality. I was about to logout when the email disappeared in front of my startled eyes. A new message immediately appeared. It stabbed me deep in that place where spirit and soul bleeds. I had no choice but to comply.

Terrence became my handler and I became his crisis. I came back eight years later effectively becoming the only recruit who had rested on the six day and finished his training on the seventh. He hadn't seen the bottle of malt liquor that I had smuggled in and despite the machines genius five days cold turkey had brought me to the edge of spiders crawling underneath my skin.

2010-11-04T16:49:00.000-07:00

The Republican

The republican dried a croc tear
with tea bagger leaves
He swore to stab progress
from congress to backwater
John Wayne Boehner back from phobicwood
to punish the heathen
Their nation had lost it's mojo
Their god bristled with indignation
How did the heathen stray into the white temple?
He will be blamed for the crash
before history is over
His skin is the denial of the christian
The republican divinely chosen by that holy book
So you see hope is never truly audacious
but for the hopeful minority
The republicans believe in abolishing me

2010-10-12T19:20:00.000-07:00

One Call Subway Out

The subway train screeched out of Manhattan towards Brooklyn and when it was squirming directly underneath the bedrock of the East river, thirty-five year old Charlie whipped out his cellphone and made a loud call to his ex. The cab riders jerked to alert and examined the alien in their midst.
"What the fuck he think he doing?" yelled a tough looking black kid.
"This fool think he calling in the subway? another taunted. " You can't make calls in the subway?" Charlie grinned like the latest mega millions lotto winner.
"Well I can make calls anytime the train is under the river.
"Hell no!" a hipster retorted, fingers instinctively reaching for the proverbial cellphone in his pocket. Everyone else eyeballed their tech. Their groan of dismay was unanimous and they all glared at Charlie who was still shouting into the phone. A skinny woman flew up from her seat shrieking like a banshee. Four hard knock riders joined her and they barricaded Charlie against a door. They banged him hard against the door. He kept on smiling. They grabbed the phone and grimaced. The signal was four bars strong. A woman could be heard screaming from the phone
"This sucker is telling the truth." "How the hell is that possible?" "Give me this shit!"
A tall bald man with bulging muscles grabbed it then flung it away. The phone was caught by a bespectacled skinny thing. Almost everybody in the car fingered the phone and failed. The phone did not respond. It lay dead in their hands. Charlie's smile blossomed. They gave it back to him like it was an abomination.
"This is a voodoo Haitian phone my brethren," screamed a drunk who was slumped on a seat by himself.
"Shut the fuck up drunk fool." Charlie shook with laughter and he dialed again to continue his loud phone call to his ex.
No one noticed the ten year old kid texting and smiling in the corner. They were too busy mind dismembering Charlie. And then the train stopped underneath the river. And only two cell phones were emitting light in the suddenly darkened subway car.

2010-09-23T12:05:00.000-07:00

American Bucket

They gossip their American future
with slither tongues feeling for envy
Maggots slurp in with the coffin rattle
as flies spread their mortal maleficence
They slip on barbwire with immigrant courtesy
Their rapture viral, a suffocating meme
back biting in the American crab bucket
Slave bucket, xenophobic chalice, base bucket
When Babylon burps the bucket rolls us into have-nots
We are the less developed cogs oiling the first world iron
A green card to help sharpen the beast
Residency that offers a slurp of sweet mostly sour
and diluted Babylon infested bacchanalia on the parkway
to keeps us dreaming in the cage
Now how's that for your future gossip?

2010-09-13T20:56:00.000-07:00

Fake Humble Instinct

They want that slow grind for me
that way herd regurgitates apathy
A wicked impulse, human in the making
in a fake humble instinct
that reeks of spectator bile
I rather spin my fate in red roulette
and detox another art binge
The sun is my tailor
I wear supernovas every September
This one might be my diamond solstice
long overdue renaissance heist
Who's casting first spit?
Lazarus poisoned his water.

2010-09-03T20:27:00.000-07:00

Sisyphus Socks

Once a trail opened
to admit a sentient
Once a hallway ended
that had only just begun
For the way stretched harder
than the poet had instigated
For the socks that he taloned
would have clawed good intention
So poet and sentient jettisoned

2010-08-09T13:37:00.000-07:00

Crooked

A crooked something this way bleeds
A maligned quintessential geyser thirst
bursting into the eye of good intention
You find you wandering of the last wondrous pulse
into the spell of broken symphonies
Might as well cascade sideways
before you drown into the noise of ego

2010-07-31T10:06:00.000-07:00

summer-shutdown

An early breadfruit roast in the backyard
triggers apt-get summer-shutdown
My bleacher night-swing is ending
Fountain lair chills back to cower
Nothing left but stale

2010-07-25T07:52:00.000-07:00

The Way is Liquid

Boston came and left. I drank my fill, ate the best, swallowed the city as much as I could in two days. Boarded the Chinese bus with a wistful smile and a bohemian arrow pointed forward. Their Wifi didn't work for me but I could tether. We were a handful of wayfarers. There was enough space to carve out a dream niche for yourself. I dug in and watched the country fly by and then the driver lost his way. Actually road works did it. He took a detour with crawl speed to a dead end point. My love floated along while I fretted. Back on the path the rain came slapping the roof, drowning out my silent trepidation. Hadn't heard that heart beat since forever. I chased it all the way to Manhattan, that is until I saw the water below the bridge. It seemed like we could have fallen off. We didn't. We were just riding above the veil.

2010-07-15T04:11:00.000-07:00

Space

The space of fountain lair
chokes before my imagination begins
My art stutters on broken axle
Parsing the life feed burns me out
Spirit brimming red apocalypse
Non Immigrant status never sleeps

2010-07-10T00:30:00.000-07:00

The Search

My spider cam
prepped for face time
The voice bristled to speak
The spoken tempted a torrent
of blood thoughts, love and angst
into the dog day hiatus

Cops slithered in
caught their reptilian menace
profiled the poet
for the racial quota
park searched for Brooklyn darkness

I held no darkness
it is babylon seed
serpent kudzu
asphyxiating truth

Dear killjoy caustic babylon
are you the last laugh
that remains standing uptight?

2010-07-03T14:11:00.000-07:00

Reminder of Goodness

I thought the money was fouling my pocket. I thought wrong. The bus driver waved me in when he saw that I had fumbled enough in my pocket for the metro card. I reached Jamaica avenue with the naive belief that I would get to change my check at one of the check cashing places. I thought wrong again. The Latin guy refused even after I had nearly groveled. He demanded a second ID to verify me. The validity of my existence depended on not one but two pieces of identification. My college ID didn't cut it. The check was legit but it seemed that I wasn't. I backed out into the winter expecting nothing but cold and a long ass trek to Brooklyn on foot. The closer I came to the train station the more despondent I became. I know I could not depend on my whacked out internal GPS for directions. For all I knew it would flush me deeper into Queens maybe even to the periphery of Long Island. My blues had basically blown then a woman came out of the night and validated me. She never asked for my ID. I told her who I was and the situation that I was in. Actually she had been in the next booth doing her own transaction when I came in. There was no doubt that had she overhead me trying desperately to cash my check in this last resort check cashing place. The Indian woman refused to change the check though I had expected her to come back with a smile and understanding. She took my ID and disappeared for a long time. I thought this time the symbiotic transaction would take place. I thought wrong again. On my way out I met the woman at the door. She watched me with a kind of worry.
"She didn't change the check for you?" she asked.
I shook my head no. We went outside and I told her the rest of my story about having no fare to get home.
"Usually I don't do that for anyone."
"I understand, thank you so much."
She gave me 2.50 and we separated forever. I vowed to keep the extra quarter as a reminder of goodness. It has since disappeared into bodega hands but the goodness grows.

2010-06-29T15:14:00.001-07:00

Heat Wave

Summer heat love
burning and lusting all flesh
inciting naked drip drip
little death sounds

90 degrees blood boil
in the brooklyn afropunk 2010 mashup
tropical artists bleeding art
sweating for their need

East NY water bursts
for the children
seeding rainbows
for the believers

97 degrees calls me out
I drag the fan to my brain
for the interweb to keep

Night keeps boiling
the spirits need to eat
we slide to the streets to listen and breathe

2010-06-25T02:41:00.000-07:00

Wide Awake Sleep

a strange dream
a lingering suspicion
of been wide awake sleeping in my life
injecting anesthetic babylon
without the slightest twinge
graduating with honors
in NYC 2010 matrix lobotomy

2010-06-21T16:08:00.000-07:00

Electric Shepherd

Future hack love
in the machine age
We dream of android dreaming
where cyber breath actually hisses

Ego future disconnect
non tactile response
Phantom heart beating
in the matrix soul

Code the dystopian template
suffer the electric shepherd
to be crucified

2010-06-16T08:27:00.000-07:00

Lifestream

how many emergencies
makes a poet?
777 stalks root
godhead gets hypodermic
fiend spills the spoils
of a life unexamined
saint walks on sutures
art digs the grave.

2010-06-03T13:15:00.000-07:00

They graduate

for the price of existence
you pay with your karma
give me cards and eco poker
I play for keeps

2010-05-28T05:28:00.000-07:00

Free Verse Hack

morning came later than usual
unfinished dream unwilling
to shave and caffeinate

2010-05-22T08:51:00.000-07:00

somewhere to the left

a rage once said
I would trust implicitly in death
drag my ball and chain
to bitter twilight

a curse shattered the silence
one more soul to bleed
I could rape the music
I could ride the shaman

a priest fingered hell
with my deviant fingers
his death of tomorrow
rescued my insanity

a canvas awaits insult
something sinister
to bite a loving thought
watch it blaspheme

a cemetery begs me
enter the left gate
peer just beyond the desert
for the darkest silence

2010-05-15T02:14:00.000-07:00

Starved

Starved

I bled
since I spoke human
I cringe
human is the limit
I know
my seed is graffiti
in a NYC septicemia

2010-05-11T13:11:00.000-07:00

reposting of an older poem

SEASPRAY

I am shooting for a tantric sun
Against a rainbow backdrop
I am eavesdropping on eternity
With dire Buddhas hail the
Bodhisattva’s cream
Hearken flaming wings.
Summon these flies of evermore
to crawl on your need

I am Ixlan’s PCP
transfiguration of desire
I am sea spray
reconsider the diamond’s fate
I am wolf moan courting moonlight
Long distance penance
Long distance dawning
Who have ears let them witness
why demons weep

I am tearing September asunder
In the voice of gothic asylums
I erase my name. Who have tongues?
let them speak the torment of demons.

2010-05-03T16:38:00.000-07:00

The Drama of Fear

My heart skipped
and I palpitated
My age ran
and I sold another rib
My heart grew a wing
for the next gasp
What will I lose?
when the chasm is complete
Sometimes awareness is a blessing
that cures the innocence
I journey to night bridge
there's a song waiting
a poem, a blood script
for my blood type
herd negative nurse gasped
life affirmative I panicked
when they didn't hear the drip machine
screaming of air bubbles in the life stream
The chasm would have been complete
south of heaven way past nirvana fallen
for fear? Or the lack thereof hate.

2010-04-23T06:37:00.000-07:00

Binary Biting Flesh

Felt a pinch in my lobe
binary pwned me @ brain root

I stumbled to bash
to script a soul response

The algorithm glazed
with Fibonacci envy

The extinction parameter
hard coded to flesh emulators

Rebooting the machine
one face book per vanity

Fusing the mortality fissure
with singularity bits

A singular spasm

A sterilized echo

Deprecation of sin

Ego apocalypse

Stitching time to fit the purpose

and that purpose kills my serpent

I script a slithering response with flesh.

2010-04-11T05:37:00.000-07:00

Black Hole

I have a vision of a man
partially obscured
Bit by morsel bit
he burns into the light
the darkness losing color
He tries to drag it all in
it wants him embedded in dusk
He shines through the black hole

2010-04-08T13:56:00.000-07:00

Avatar

Harve created the beast. He social engineered it with the wit of beat poets. It propagated into the collective conscience with the virulence of bubonic plague. Now the beast wants god head.

It summons Harve in a twisted dream. He awakes. His heart pounds in his skinny chest. The beast jumps out, watches him with a puzzled look.

“What's wrong Harve?” “You didn't like the dream?”

Harve splashes water on his tired face. A grasshopper hops on the mirror and waits. He swipes at it and the beast snickers. The insect falls into the face basin. The beast wants him to drown it. He resists. The grasshopper leaps from his open palm and lands on the computer.

“A Buddhist eh?” “Buddha's suckling huh.”

Harve locks out the beast the moment his fingers touches the keyboard. He scours the web for a most perfect plan to eliminate beast.

His inboxes are filled with spam and forwarded mail. He deletes them in quiet fury.

“Come on Harve you are missing the juicy stuff man,” Beast yells.

Harve smiles. Morning light infiltrates the house. He prays for family and friends and earth. Beast retches in the corner.

Someone hammers the front door. The beast races in front to welcome the six am intruder. Harve smells alcohol as he approaches the door.

Shaky is waiting with four bottles of beer. Beast hops and skips like a maniac.

“Yes yes yes,” it whispers into Harve's ear.

“Hey Shaky I see you ready for the weekend?”

“Ya man Harve, take two beers for yourself.”

Harve takes a long swallow and sighs.

“This is good man,” he exclaims.

“You know how it is Harve since last night I partying.”

“Is all good rebel let me put on some music.”

He goes inside. Selects a playlist of up tempo music on the computer.
When he comes out beast is bouncing to the beat. Harve smiles. Beast is overwhelmed with joy when Harve takes the other beer. Shaky has already finished his drink. He invites Harve to the rum shop. Beast follows them beaming like a kid in a candy store.

Beast anticipates the usual weekend binge. The shop is already filled with drinkers preparing for the day. Shaky wades in greeting his inebriated brethren. Harve lingers on the periphery. Beast jumps into the fray.

“What's happening Harve you stop drinking man?” someone shouts.

“Stop drinking you crazy!” “Mister is the beast,” Another hollers. Harve flinches but enters for the beer that Shaky offers. He drinks it quick.

“Yea man I know you like it. We all like it,” the shop owner exclaims grinning. Beast can't contain itself. It grabs Harve. Holds him tighter than the iron maiden. Thanks him profusely for its existence. Harve screams out.

“The beast is out the beast is loose!”

The shop erupts in laughter. They order another round of drinks. To their utter astonishment Harve declines their offer.

“What's wrong man?” “We thought you were drinking.”

“I'm cool,” Harve replies.

“Come on man the beast is ready to roll,” they implore. Harve smiles and walks outside.

“So roll with the beast,” he declares.

The beast can't believe what has just transpired. It is caught between the drunken men and Harve. Harve heads for home.

A sullen ill tempered beast starts to fade but is saved by Shaky who orders another round of drinks and begins to sing his trademark love struck lyrics.

previously posted here april 30 2007

2010-04-05T15:40:00.000-07:00

Cracked Age

Zotola leaped back into the tempest like the nasty rodent he was. Three o'clock in the morning with raging thunder and violent lightning tearing up the night he had attempted to rob us again. She shrieked when she saw the creature foraging in the corner. She told me later she had expected a red eyed demon to attack her when it turned around. Instead the beast was just another desperate crack fiend.
Zotola burglarized my house three times that turbulent year. I confronted him once and he threatened me with a cutlass. It was a Friday night and the air was taut as a tourniquet. I guess he had a point to prove in front of the dealers and their minions.
“What you talking about pure?”
“You know what you did mother fucker!” He waved the machete in my face.
“Pure boy you better watch what you saying.” My girlfriend tugged on my arms. It wiser to walk away.
The police finally shot him on a Saturday morning in front of a hypocritical village who had abetted and also suffered his crimes. Everyone knew he was an escape con and crack fiend yet they bought stolen goods from him with salivating glee. They paid him to weed their gardens and front yard and didn't flinch when he came shirtless to their door begging for matches or spare change. He begged us in the day and robbed us at night. He robbed us even in the day. I remember when I came back from town about midday one day to find my house raided again. He stole the fish I had bought the night before and most of the stuff we had gotten from America including cologne and socks. I had no doubt he had sold it for next to nothing to the dealers themselves. `
“Pure they shot your friend” someone called to me on that Saturday morning. I could see a crowd gathered down the street about twenty feet from my house. Is he serious? My friend? I left for work that morning feeling exhaled. I heard later that Zotola was cornered in the local grocery shop. He must have been peddling stolen goods again. He made a desperate run to escape but the bullet broke his left leg. The other leg twisted when he fell.
Still Zotola wasn't really my enemy and God knows I had my fair share. Crack was our Judas. It had betrayed everyone even those who don't know it yet. I saw the crack heads everyday slithering up the hill for their fix. Many came more than three times a day. They came in the night too while the dogs barked themselves silly. They walked with a stark raving purpose. Rain didn't stop them. Not even a hurricane did the trick. I saw them in the last hurricane drenched and slobbering at the dealer's gate. He couldn't afford to miss a sale even while the wind roared and whistled like beasts unleashed. I smiled at their audacity even while I lamented at the greed pandemic that has since made us all into fiends.
I remember stick figure Jackie Brown. She lived in a tired persistent Armageddon. She hustled from dusk to dawn to earn enough to buy her rocks. Picture Jackie Brown on the prowl. She walks limping sideways like from a killing pain or deformity. Some say crack twisted her body. Maybe her brain is limping from the crack fumes and her body is manifesting the destruction. She calls to me from the street. I open the front door to peer out. She is ragged there by the gate.
“You can give your girl couple coins please?”
“Hold on lemme check.”
“Nice nice you is my boy. I must bring something for you later.”
Jackie did anything for that crack trip. She got raped and battered for it like a dog. The demon high was all that mattered. One day I told her she had pretty eyes but she said it was way past her time. She was only forty but didn't believe in redemption. I saw it plain and tragic in those brown eyes.
Village people said that it was the cops that brought crack home. The argument is the police cut down the Ganja to open the way for crack. The truth is much more simple. People love to get high. The crack high is better than sex. There will always be drug dealers. Andre was my fish guy. He brought fresh fish for me and I paid him whatever I had. The money had barely settled in his palms and he would dash off to get his rocks. Police caught up him by the bayside pulling nets for the fishermen which was how he got his fish. He had an outstanding warrant. Three months later he was released and the first thing he did was head straight back to the crack den. Like I said for people like Andre and Jackie Brown the crack high is better than sex. I never saw Andre flirting with women. He only interacted with them on a hustling level. It was either the crack hustle or the end of his world.
The dealers on the other hand never ran out of women. Time has changed though in the crack trade. You can buy a piece of crack rock for as little as five dollars. The drug pushers still make their money but the loot is considerably less. It's the reason why they deal even in Hurricanes. It is the reason why Jackie Brown and Zotola can knock on their gate way past the witching hour and get service. They are crack bodegas. The dealer lifestyle is much too attractive. They have a slew of disciples. Andre and Jackie Brown are shunned as dirty and paranoid by the same kids that worship the drug dealers. It does not occur to them or they refuse to acknowledge the reality that the crack addicts get their drugs from dealers. A lot of older people also turn a blind eye. Sometimes I felt that they were happy that my house was burglarized by Zotola. Crack dealers in the village come in all forms and masks. There are those who deal it directly and those who finance it and get their cut. The latter are incredibly smooth and manipulative. They are respected in the community. They buy you drinks when you come in the bar impressing everyone around. We know what they are but we don't seem to care. We can't see the ugly on them so it's all good.
Ugly lies with Jackie as she limps into the bar. Everybody gets a beer or whiskey but Jackie gets the cheapest brain rot and a cigarette. I enter the bar and she begs another shot. I buy her a beer, get my fix and leave. I meet Andre on my way out. He has fish but I point him to the bar. He does not hesitate. Before I reach my house he is calling after me. I know today the quality of fish is not up to their standards. I buy it anyway indirectly serving in the pyramid of the crack scourge. It has been reported that more than 75% of money in America is tainted with cocaine. Police dogs could sniff you out for drugs because of the money in your pocket. The money in my ghetto smells the same. We are all tainted by the manic crack rage. Andre and Zotola and Jackie are the obvious. They fit the profile. The rest deal in the shadows, some more innocent than others.

2010-04-03T06:14:00.000-07:00

Shape Shifting

I mentioned paradigm shifting once
could have been when I was wounded
not the blood kind
the spirit spillage kind
well am a day walker now
a night sun blood man
the myth boy shape shifting
with indigo eyes cataclysmic
I saw a film wolf once
on a LA night scape
I stole that dream
I ate that time
became haunted
becoming the hunter of Castaneda
I will split into the myriad
invisibles of my meaning
then reality breaks a sweat
not seen since Maya

2010-03-31T16:20:00.000-07:00

Take a Sand

feel the mortal growth
how it fades
when it stops growing
sentence is up
you out of the loop
or are you the loop?
Come sharpest next time
burn harder next round
ant or serpent
which one beliieved?

2010-03-28T18:04:00.000-07:00

Zero Saline

a drip hydrates a poet
a telemetry device caught a junk beat
some drew blood
some threw religious bait
machine malfunctioned
air in the tubes
the sound of embolism
I caught a blood pressure
dragged my drip to the corridor
the bed rising and dipping
to the flesh of my skinny
it tugged my bones
I didn't adjust to the meal meds
I didn't flinch from the needle spit
I came out weak and summer eyed
the bus took too long to fountain bane

2010-02-05T20:50:00.000-08:00

Minority

When you are counted out be luminous
I was never one to cream for patriotic drivel
Who did you kill for herdsman?
I fired my first volley into the heart of turbulence
the panic was deafening.
shine or burn mister world citizen
There was a day and a half cage once
I slipped out into Brooklyn
for the piper's view
Charon followed sniffing the timeline
He rows when he rows
none more penitent
than fools in majority suits
Cut to scene 2010
take one in a majority world
You have the right to be counted out
of the divine page
For the right to be human?
For the right to be wrong
Scene ends with an animal search in Newark
Did Ginsberg howl?
He knew what he kn owed
I know what I owe
September prayers and no apologies
for being luminous in the shade.

2010-01-22T16:09:00.000-08:00

Haiti State of Mind

one shoe will fit all in the end
the soul wind blows bitter
for the mortal parlance
subpoenaed apostate
the story red and brimstone
fit the size of the wrath today
fractured Haiti as divine bait
to spectral human
pay it forward to forgiveness
pray it ego less
spark the omega tempest
to ignite the alpha flame
We will be one and counted
for time to peel back the void
Time cuts the cord
Haiti births again
Third world beats again
and nothing is left to worth
in Babylon
whoever thought there'd be left overs?

2010-01-20T18:18:00.000-08:00

Ten Year Chance

Seyer screams out to Jasmine, who is screaming across the sand towards them. The wormhole vehicle is hovering at the portal impatient for its next jump. Seyer jumps on board and then leaps back out. Jasmine runs up to him with tears lashing her face. They cling to each other and watch the vehicle blast into the worm portal. It won't open for another ten years.

They catch the Tyrian subway home. The old Tyrian subway had failed again. It broke down midway between the town and the portal site. It's the only means they have of catching the intergalactic worm vehicle that hyper jumps every ten years. You get three chances to leave this world and after that it doesn't matter. No one survives here past thirty years.

Seyer and Jasmine were exiled here from new earth for the freedom crime. They dared to choose and new earth banished them.

"You think we'll ever make it out Seyer?" He is staring out in the distance. They are sitting outside their pyramid house.
"We will make it out. We are not dying here. I will find a way Jasmine."
"Well we have only two chances left babe." He turns to her defiant.
"I am not waiting for the next jump babe."
"What are you saying Seyer?" "It can't be done."
"Jon Hack did it."
"That is only a myth Seyer."
" A myth?" "It is not a myth." "I have the key to the door." She laughs.
"What key?"

They make their way to the ancient forest. Jasmine looks wary and nervous. Seyer scrambles in front like a man possessed. Their only possessions are two rucksacks slung across their backs. When they reach the edge of the woods, Jasmine looks petrified.
"We should turn back babe." He shrugs.
"What you talking about?" We are almost there."
"There? Where is there? What is this place?"
" Our ticket home you'll see." He enters the forest and she follows like a reluctant stranger.

There's a pyramid in the middle of the forest. Seyer points and smiles. Jasmine grimaces. Seyer pulls a key from his pocket and approaches a door built into the side of the pyramid. He tries the key and the dusty door slides open. He disappears inside. Jasmine squirms outside. Her eyes poke everywhere. A rumbling sound comes from within the pyramid and Seyer soon comes back out wearing a wide triumphant smile.

"Come on babe it's time to go." She hesitates.
"Babe the portal opens up only for a couple minutes," he screams. She takes a final look around and follows him inside.

There's a portal in the room. They can see their reflection in the portal. She gasps when she sees her future and past at the same time. She turns to him.
"Seyer what's going on?" she cries. He takes her hand.
"Babe we gotta be real careful when we go through the portal okay?"
"What you mean careful?"
"I mean this portal can age us or keeps us young as we are." She looks as if she would flee from the pyramid.
"It's cool babe. Just time it. When the portal turns green you jump okay?"
"We'll jump to together Seyer."
"No we can't Jasmine. Each to his fate." He smiles a distanced reflective smile.
"I love you Seyer."
" I love you Jasmine."
They jump alone. Jasmine thought she saw an old man grab Seyer in the split second before he disappeared into the door. Seyer waits for her on the other side. She comes crawling through the portal cooing and babbling. He strokes his white beard and smiles and waits for his responsibility.

2010-01-15T05:14:00.001-08:00

The Wound

I keep stabbing
and there's no blood
in the fridge.

2009-12-30T18:59:00.000-08:00

flesh

there's no panic
like my september outburst
so when my blood crawled
a vermin stain
crushed garlic
on the astral altar
satiated the death urge
which end poet hiss
to move the paradigm?
which end to puke mortals?
let's head wrathway
beyond the pixellated beauty
to see what is flesh.

2009-11-08T21:38:00.000-08:00

Left Lair

Will have to pilfer empire
from where I brood
Hadn't set out to be besieged
by the slow decay
The bodhisattva called
and the flood drowned saul
woke up in the belly of Brooklyn
how's that for hindsight?
So "drumroll"
Will have to pilfer empire
to maintain the covenant

2009-10-08T21:32:00.000-07:00

This is from Ofira Sephiroth. Thank you very much poet friend for this kind art vibes.

2009-10-02T20:30:00.000-07:00

The Flowers Wither @ Half Past Dawn

Tehran bleeds with a broken mouth
net screams second skin Tiananmen
torture sets in
western sky barbecues summer
frolic of the amnesiacs
memory loss of the seeds
the flowers wither @ half past dawn
in the matrix senility

Fake status updates
taunts me to follow green

Then Kanye grabs a mic
with Warholian synaptics
and the herd pollutes the web
with post righteous indignation.

2009-08-11T23:03:00.000-07:00

New Rule

New rule
I am the sum of my distortions
The first wound never heals
We bleed when we laugh
in slow tragic anomalies

Kill your promise
to stay guilty
abort the beast

My age never believed me
so I faked it

Silence depends
on the noise in your time
I am overwhelmed

Get born again
in the rabbit hole
grasping the chains of heaven

Future never happens
without a motive
Future is immortal shadow boxing

Love pays the mortal cost
of human frailty

New rule
we are the best of strangers
and the worst friends

We cry death
but love the dead

Reality is one fifth existence
pick your spot in the maze

Zi0n can be hacked
encrypt your backdoor to heaven

Hate can be subtle
debug the last smile

Spine 3.0
for the new intolerance
it is closer than you breathe

Learn to swim
with open source gills
Gaia reboots without warning

Summon the key maker
to reset the dreamscape

The understanding
that this is nothing
never was
but a fake parole
from eternity

New rule
this poem needs
a fresh bitterness
preferably a web whip
to sting them forever

A digital lift
from the Luddite spill
from the meatspace drama
from the poet's grovel

Flame holy writ
gather your temptations
burst your seeds
across the future speak

The poet's bleed
watering the world
my bitch rant
could gather steam
kickstart a tsunami breakdown
of the old golden rules

For the new rule
drowns and reclaims us
yours to gaggle
and mine to spill

2009-05-24T22:01:00.000-07:00

Swallow and Remix

I could have sworn
some one called me just now
was I there before?
a paradigm shift to parallel flames
this is how it plays out
I shift sideways
meet my stolen other
we hack dimensions for fun
I abandon him somewhere to the left
get back to the middle
the linear
the mundane
the fear of unknowns
I fear I won't get back
to the other side of the mirror
but I keep digging
my reason for existence
to feel the heart beat of existence
We have been disconnected from the first flame
severed by the quest for acceptance
the love of the crowd is your death
the crowd rapes your identity
herds you for their bidding
caught up in the grind
to plugin or unplug
the most fearful question of the day
I rename myself before I plugin
extract my binary unto the dizziness
and flow into the nameless ooze
Catch me if you can
you tethered fiends
Here's the deal start from empty
the glass does not exist
the matrix spoon is in your mouth
swallow and remix
swallow and remix.

2009-05-16T11:21:00.000-07:00

Buying Masks

Three masked sapiens
on the sidewalk in queens
pieces of the puzzle parade
working the scene
it will end with a fake orgasm
Life shuffles of beyond reproach
to mutate for its own sake
I catch it in the subway
humbled with the masses
We ride the same breath
from jamaica station to norwood escape
We hide in demon space
hundreds of invisible masks
parched covenants with skeletal closets
I drag my reluctant shadow
out of the station
into the bodega fix
Life rumbles on
I catch the mundane murmur
behind their masquerade

2009-04-07T21:14:00.000-07:00

the biggest smile

all that ends well
repeats again
in nauseating banter
all that before
the biggest smile
capsuled to heaven
what is the biggest smile?
but a scream.

2009-03-13T14:00:00.000-07:00

Suspended In Binary

Transients on the binary exit
Pinging the social conscious

Hermits in the underpass
convulsing with wiki needles

Boolean children
plucking heart strings

Shaggy shamans
trimming their face books

The fake bleeding avatar
lusting for fake vampire bytes

The faithful faking zeitgeist
pinging my conscience

My spammed ego
googling denial.

2009-03-06T20:50:00.000-08:00

Now is the beginning. Now is the end.

2009-02-26T13:40:00.000-08:00

Indigo

I am shipwrecked
next to the shell boy
next to the war patient
brandishing the war patent
for george malady
I am karma's apprentice
changing bodhisattvas skins
in the brooklyn labyrinth
I stretch this poem over the void
to plug the soul leak
in the bleeding fountain
I paint hours with art stains
when grenades slip in between
the hands of time
I store my indigo bits
in the nibiru database
I am the watcher
I am the minefield.

2009-02-01T22:49:00.000-08:00

different perhaps

i owe you the time
of a second
perhaps a mad gesture
of truth
how unbelievable
the cynics win your heart
i owe you
the rest of this thought
before it never was

2009-01-13T22:07:00.000-08:00

it's been awhile since i blew into the mic. this is my first for 2009. lots more to come.

2009-01-06T19:12:00.000-08:00

Downslope Theatrics

What can I tell you? The fountain was licking septic spores. El came thrusting with his cartoon dagger. I came swinging my 40 ounce redemption. We settled for suspended animosity. What can I tell you? El would preach us to kingdom come in a perfect world. Fortunately he calls us the monarch people. The leprosy people. The outsiders that make him cringe and smolder in the labyrinth.

2008-12-12T19:48:00.000-08:00

they?

they say that magic is unkempt
and it is the way i conduct my existence
they would have me tepid
and it is not my delight
they buried passion
and it is foolproof resistance
against the worm
they strangle green
and it is contemptuous

2008-12-04T13:18:00.000-08:00

Name Yourself

Scream yourself into being
Vault into time on the wings of lyrical audacity
Register your psyche before the first ink dries
Name yourself when you are dying to speak

2008-11-08T08:46:00.000-08:00

poet runner

i left the airport
made a beeline to the future
no one was waiting
world fell asleep

woke up underground
where the fountain flows backwards
where distortion turns the keys
in my cell

scrambled my things
grew mad wings
lift off union square redemption

made a pact
we bend to our space

kissed our time
with indigo lips

poet anticipated
the proverbial misunderstanding
the petty mindset phenomenon
human escapes human?

i left a hole
in the past
for the new ignorance

2008-10-10T04:50:00.000-07:00

Burden of Time

We bumped into each other on the small dark trail I always took when I was tired of mankind.
'Pardon me son,' the frail man whispered like leaves rustling.
'It's ok the way here is narrow,' I replied impatient to move along. He hesitated.
'Please spare a moment son?' he begged. I sighed and stopped.
We faced each other on the small trail suspended for seconds in the same time and space.
'Thank you,' we said at the same time after a moment.
Then we left on our opposite sides of time.

2008-09-26T12:43:00.000-07:00

Fish on High

Someone shouts my name as I enter the prison yard. I immediately recognize the con man's voice of the slickest fish hustler of my village. I scan for signs of the fiend but fail to pick him out from the crowd of blue clad inmates. Most likely he is in lock down staring out through iron bars. As I continue my journey to visit another ghetto brethren I can't help but reminisce about our strange symbiotic relationship.

Most days he came in the afternoon shouting my name from the streets. Sometimes I cringed. Other times I smiled, shook my head and headed out. He would be standing outside with a plastic bag in his hands. His hustlers pitch never faltered.

“I have real good fish for you today Billy.”
“Fresh fresh fish my brother.”
“I even cleaned it for you.”
“Just give me ten dollars for the three pounds.”
“Just give me what you have.”

Sometimes I refused. He had a tendency of offering me mutilated fish. I suspect these were fish that was discarded by the fishermen on the shore. He would leave dejected, bowing his lanky frame to the street, on his desperate quest to con another consumer.

On many occasions he brought fresh mouth watering fish. I always bought it from him at bargain prices. He never complained and always promised to hook me up with more. Most times I gave him ten dollars. It was our magic number.

I knew that he was using the money to get his fix. I knew that he never ate the fish that he was peddling to me. He would bypass his house to reach my place on the hill. This was a madness I never quite fathomed.

Eventually the madness came to a head. His addiction broke him. They caught him while he was hustling on the waterfront. I was forced to find another source to satisfy my palate's lust for fresh fish cuisine.

2008-09-19T14:42:00.000-07:00

Plunger

signals on the karma scale
what will be is set
I call the peripheral voice
we moan voodoo blues
drawing out identity
man's face is watching me
for the question of the void
the fountain overflows
suck it back in karma
the revealing must wait

2008-09-11T03:25:00.000-07:00

Broken Ribs For Dinner

Exchange wonder for madness
A transient howls in his snake skin
There’s a bruise on his ribs
Inflicted by shadows
He is burning in the deluge
Intoxicated before harvest
The old-fashioned lusting
Spewing toxins
Vagabond world for vague ideals
He will murder your card board hearts
One last clock ticks with contempt
One dark mirror stuck behind his eyes
A constant fading memory that faked luminescence
One little god with one last temptation
His hands bare, sun diseased
Broken smells and horror
He knocks and drowns
He knocks and drowns

Billy jno hope 25-5-2004

2008-08-12T05:33:00.000-07:00

Worse Things

what lies beneath the temple of life?
what number comes after death?

if eve seduced sin

what's wrong with flowers?

2008-07-28T12:40:00.000-07:00

Then rain

drove me back
into the cellar
where dreams
were discarded
for prime time

2008-07-14T10:00:00.000-07:00

Blood Flies

the gathering
on the scent of sacrifice
the buzz of blood flies
echoes the wound theme
lion or myth inflicts infamy
life score is none

2008-07-07T11:12:00.000-07:00

Mad hope

Mad dragged me to evermore
I hope I survive
I hope I seed
more than I conceive
hope is eternal in my castle.

2008-07-02T12:17:00.000-07:00

A burst of applause

for fond cole

my birth grip slipping
my dalliance jaded

words twist me
I blame soul sometimes

for fond cole
blood songs

my birth crime
breathing

2008-06-24T19:53:00.000-07:00

killin time is me hollering in a poetic shake.

2008-06-21T11:23:00.000-07:00

after a long hiatus a new spoken word from yours truly. calamity souls

2008-06-15T13:18:00.000-07:00

Killing Time

Why kill time
when sweet dreams beckon?

Why chase the day into twilight?

Why prognosticate?

Why be awakened
to be mortal?

2008-06-05T10:19:00.000-07:00

Bodhisattva's End

Soul takes flight
A fire died
Silence saved
Another silent seeding

2008-05-26T15:39:00.001-07:00

The Extraction

The way time tagged me
is beyond my devices.
Art chose me to collide
in the mortal corridor
I stained the mirror red
Love taught me God
Life happened along to divide
I carved dawn from twilight
extracting the soul shimmer
and divine quintessence

2008-05-11T12:38:00.000-07:00

Calamity Souls

they infect words with shadows

they are blood scribes
the calamity harbingers

network chameleons
seeding malaise

they moan and lust
for dog day drama

masturbating
when the swords are drawn

2008-04-22T07:53:00.000-07:00

Digital Puke

He jettisoned from the net forever. They killed his Avatar somewhere in the out world of second life when the World of War craft hordes came calling for him to invoke the infocalypse.

When I met him on the train he was almost pwned. The Debian tattoo throbbing beneath his cheek identified him as geek godfather. Those misshapen eyes represented the last of the best cyberpunk warriors operating on the old net. His frazzled appearance on this train could only mean one thing. The countdown to the infocalypse had been triggered.

“We don't have time,” I said to him. He gave me the nano disc as the first spasms rocked his slim frail body. Fear dripped from his eyes as he waited for my antidote. It came in the form of a script I had written on one of those nights when sleep is a mere distraction in the grander scheme of things. It was the most beautiful code I had ever written. It was also the most dangerous.

He copied it quickly into his handheld that magically appeared out of a geek pocket. I tensed when I saw it. Possession of that technology meant that you were either the most wanted black hat or an agent in the highly feared world's cyber division. He looked like neither with his hands trembling over the keyboard as he ran a series of tests on my script.

“This is not a quick fix,” I said. He nodded understanding. “My code will reverse engineer the first part of their Trojan. You will have about ten minutes to puke it all out. Only the spam bots will come out. You will have to hack your own dreams to find the source code and delete it.”

He smiled for the first time revealing the designer teeth of true deep net junkies. There were only a few shops on the planet where you could get these specialized encrypted jobs done. The teeth hooked you straight into the Metaverse on the fastest internet connection not even the richest man on earth could afford. It was all about trust and skill and nothing else.

Another spasm rocked him. I nodded for him to begin the compiling of my code. It would either fry his mind or free him. He hissed when the wifi connection of his teeth jacked into the handheld. There was a moment of suspended digital animation and then he hit enter on the keyboard.

He screamed beyond terrifying. It was the most inhuman sound I have ever heard. It penetrated deeper than I ever wanted life to. It sounded like death itself finally triumphant over the last vestiges of our fragile stubborn existence.

“Damn damn damn man. Shit what the hell is happening to you man?”

He answered with more screams and retching except nothing was coming out.

“Talk to me man, talk to me soldier!”

“They got him good huh?”

“What what the hell? I whirled around. A frail man stood there with the eyes of Einstein.

“You are so right man,” he quipped. “He's got their hell inside for sure.”

“What the hell are you?” What are you talking about?”

“We are their slaves now. We are the tech indentured servants man.”

“Stop talking bullshit man the infocalypse has not started yet. They need his brain.”

“Alright,” he said opening an identical handheld like my screaming friend's own. “Come and see for yourself.”

I saw but still wouldn't believe. My primitive brain refused to even consider what I was seeing on the screen. It was at once beautiful and terrifying. I gasped and shuddered as I witnessed the fateful reprogramming of the human interface.

2008-04-03T05:36:00.000-07:00

of ink and man

the first poets were free
until ink stained flesh
on mortal canvasses
of the eden delight.

2008-03-29T10:58:00.000-07:00

Home Next To The Exit

I was forever
when home shimmered
beneath the morning star

Now home rides
next to the exit
of every last instant

2008-03-22T10:22:00.000-07:00

Am Always Coming Out To The City

something in my genes
compels me to count the letters
of the words in my eye
shackles me to tired information
bleeds the adjective
even before my mind speaks

something borrowed
garbled hip hop language
am always coming out to the city
before the beat knocks on the door.

2008-03-11T08:37:00.000-07:00

The Strangest Life

The man pulls 5am awake. I have beaten him by six breaths. The others are oblivious of our haunting.
I stretch and ignite. Fire for rebirth. Subterranean winter chill.

They try to feed me earth balls to ward of winter chills in the underground. Subterranean epiphany. By seven am out in the world chasing my future before it falls apart. Math can’t save me but I have to try.

The J train crawls toward the symbiotic throng. Another strap hanger turbulence. You don’t get to choose your space before you fall. You learn to fit inside time and indifferent perspective.

Faces haunting subway station transience. Phantoms tagging my soul. Apocalyptic faultine sighs.

Memory steers me . My heart beats into the heart of the matter.

Between now and revelation I smile at the strangest life.

2008-02-27T10:50:00.000-08:00

The Light

How many more light bulbs to twist
before the everlasting light dies
and am left between dreams and queens
raping fountains for holy water
in the subterranean asylum of my winter vigil?

2008-02-11T08:22:00.000-08:00

Duracell Lady

I see the Duracell lady for the first time gliding into the train like a phantom. She has come to cater to our electronic lusting. Her batteries will keep us connected. She’s another impulsive hustler who has tapped into the matrix that enslaves us.
I watch her as she hustles every seat with half crazed eyes and gnarled fingers dangling the commerce. I can hardly understand her sales pitch but it never elaborates.
Sometimes they find change. Most times they stay hidden in their karma. She disappears. Contempt? I wait for vitriol. She glides out of the car like a phantom.
I saw her yesterday. She seemed erratic. Maybe she had lost her rhythm. She stood by an exit mumbling. I hoped that she hadn’t lost her hustle.

2008-02-04T10:31:00.000-08:00

Glory

Who would have thought
a tempest sated
slower than evermore
tempted us
to misty mountain.

2008-01-24T14:35:00.000-08:00

Now

here we are in solidarity
measuring brooklyn minutes
the epiphany undulated timely
we grabbed and fled
hyperlinked the poet's vision
to new york drama
here we are
anticipating the brink.

2008-01-19T15:43:00.000-08:00

get disappeared 2

when was the last time
i twitched in front of strangers
on my way hitching to babylon?

2007-11-30T07:09:00.000-08:00

spitting venom. the fond cole diaries 10

2007-11-26T13:21:00.000-08:00

still a word dealer

i still make music for embattled souls
i rip the paper to shreds to connect with my junkie apparatus
i am headed to the halls of overdue
done left you behind scratching a new street
for the gossip of my discontent.

2007-10-31T04:32:00.000-07:00

Phantoms For Sale

Disheveled pathetic John staggered into the empty church like a madness out of the asylum. He went straight up to the altar dragging sickness and alcoholica behind.

For five minutes he stood silently as if waiting for something to burn. The balding priest entered on time. He sat in the pew and gazed serenely upon John.

John began trembling. His eyes became haunted with restless paranoia. The priest never altered his gaze. You could almost pluck the calmness from his eyes. He seemed like he was willing to wait forever.

John began hyperventilating. He clutched his chest and struggled to speak.

"Come on son just let them out," the priest exclaimed.

John startled looked at the priest with the eyes of a zealous vendor.

"Father I've got some demons for sale," he said.

The priest nodded. "How much?" he asked.

Just one but it will cost you your soul," John replied.

The priest smiled. "Alright son show me."

John didn't hesitate.

2007-10-21T09:50:00.000-07:00

the fond diaries 9 caught me stranded in a cage. This is my howl.

2007-10-17T01:44:00.000-07:00

Motor Mouthing To Eternity

Unkempt hair. Super intense persona. He welcomed me into the cage with a blast of everlasting verbiage. How to survuve in the asylum. When to open up my energy.
So he kept it on inspite of sedation. He raged and railed against the conformity of their covenant.
His tongue lashing against the cage, dislodging the silence that conformity demands. His vitriol slicing through the hypocrites like machetes through butter.
I wonder if he is rambling still in that cage where you either sink or explode.
Later I found out he was my cousin.

2007-10-17T01:37:00.000-07:00

The Leper Sat With Me

You found me below, settled in with the leper. My thin legs exposed to the madness. We both staring out through the iron bars. Deep in our thoughts about things meant only for our testament. Who could understand? This is what they call madness. This is what I call transcendence.

2007-10-07T07:03:00.000-07:00

Psychiatric Folly

I am seeds I told the meds traitor. Still he forced his minions to force the psychiatric folly into my blood. Then the pale imbecile disappeared to infect another flower.

2007-09-27T01:17:00.000-07:00

To Save A Poem

The fire burns fierce and primitive like a cleansing angel. Thick black smoke pours out from the flaming house. I was lucky to have awakened to. Now I'm fighting to get back in.

They grab me, wrestles me to the ground. I struggle like a wild animal. They don't give in. My tears explode from eyes.

The fire truck comes too late. The crowd gasps as the house destructs. I finally free myself and rush into the ruins.

My relief shouts to heaven. The mob watches astonished as I emerge jubilant kissing a black notebook.

“He done gone crazy,” they exclaim.

I laugh even harder.

And then I begin to eat my words.

2007-09-21T00:13:00.000-07:00

Breathe

I writhed on the floor before my first breath expired. Someone called the ambulance. And I declined the accident. They came too late. My second breath was kissing my third. They reversed in anger. And I caught a bus for the sixth gale bursting my lungs in midnight panic.

2007-09-19T23:51:00.000-07:00

something for 15th september

i am the rooster
the cock in the asylum
i am the hungry wolf
skin walking my way
to the edge of depleted essence
what else do you have to preach?
come on preach to starve my art
come on my soul bites your mundane
and then....

2007-08-29T07:07:00.000-07:00

VideoJug: How To Format Dialogue In A Film Script

2007-08-23T12:35:00.000-07:00

fond cole diaries8 my spoken word reaction to hurricane dean pounding ghetto world.

2007-08-20T02:53:00.000-07:00

Called Me Dead

One moment J is pushing the hot wheels with both hands and spirit. Down Goodwill avenue he flies past astonished impressed faces. He never hits the bottom.

An electron sparks binary Coup d'etat. A nauseous ring tone emanates from a nauseous cellphone. J should have puked instead.

He never defies his fate. And fate won't ever complain.

A tattooed hand picks up the tech. The hello crashes into the void.

In the second story window of Wilson's grocery the mangled machine smokes and waits. Blood and gore drips to the ground, unto the mob.

After the wreckage is hacked away, when the mob has returned to its lair the cellphone hits the ground.

2007-07-09T10:50:00.000-07:00

Biting Tongues One Tooth At A Time

After I fell into a blackout
my tongue bled.

I woke up disoriented
sworn I'd seen wraiths
scattering into the unseen

I groped for the message
in the hindsight

It trickles slowly
like a leaky tap.

2007-07-01T10:38:00.000-07:00

Hustling Words

I met you when the world had turned sour

We exchanged alien goodbyes
in the government domain where we worked

I found you again
between fiends and slaves.

We talked beyond the party
beyond the cusp of sleep

I invited you to the river
you preferred to wait for rain

We kissed when the world was blind
before we started hustling words.

2007-06-21T14:55:00.000-07:00

Print Another Madness

My muse returned just in time as my bile rose again. It came back with a vengeance. I could hardly hold my tongue.

In the land of a thousand rivers a man was gunned down between rocks and greed.

Then they slew him again on vapid front pages of necrotic newspapers.

2007-06-16T14:46:00.000-07:00

as if i had forgotten here is the fond cole diaries6. listen to the poet inspired.

2007-06-15T13:37:00.000-07:00

Here be Monsters

and they watched the flames licking our world

while we reposed.

then we rushed out screaming

and they howled in pandemonium.

friend and foe taunted

as we tried to quell hell with a single raindrop.

now my body pains from sky to sand.

i hope i am wiser for misery.

the poet begs to differ.

2007-06-09T15:04:00.000-07:00

Outside Decency

do you live outside decency?
where maggots salvage
and serpents sabotage
I saw you wearing rage
whenever I collected bliss
you giggled like a nuke
when I bombed out like a leper
and how burns your skeleton closet
that seeds your hate?
we could hitch to that strange strange country
to swap lives and bones.