A Day Grind

given a free coffee—
it was
just sittin’ there
thought you’d like it

yeah, I’ll take it
thanks!

I’ll fake till I make it

sitting in
another shop
ain’t it pleasant?

yeah, enough to
make a ritual of it

this narrative
of mine presses forth
while we disgust
one another
while the world
spins like another

bad night

this second cup
could cause
my heart to
grind
to a hault

but I cannot turn
down
flow service
beverage by
will of Providence

politely accept your gift
and wave
to your friends

Haunted Friday Morning

Did you hear that? Hear what? Listen! Wha… What the fuck was that? A door slams.

(When I was a kid in high school, a friend and I ran by and slammed the door of a music hall.)

After meditation, a man says to me that he’s really been picking up on the spirits around here. “Last night there was one in my room.” These are atypical, the ones that more or less attack you in your sleep.

The cabinet slammers, those that make the bed rise off the floor are usually what I have in mind.

Haunted by thoughts that will just not leave.

A real haunting pits family members against one another. It tries to snatch you out of peace and quiet, move what should not be moved.

You do not want them in. Don’t provoke or prod. This will only esculate.

Did you see what they did to her? I’m only telling you this for your own good.

I Still Love The World

Sometimes at a brick wall, I remind myself how I started out as a writer—as a note taker, a list maker fiend. It was only until I was well into my third or fourth zine that I started focusing on becoming more literary, what to speak of entertaining the notion of being a poet. Why do I bring this up now? It’s something I think about when I look for a solution to get past a dull spot, or when I’m going through a transition. Many Wu fans consider 36 Chambers their best release. This was RZA starting out, the whole clan on fire and hungry. I can’t help but comparing myself with other artists, even if some say I shouldn’t—don’t be mean.

I’m just bringin’ lunchtime chat.

The hot pepper in my salad, I bit into it and juice flew all over the restaurant. I was lucky the gentleman at the table next to me was just that, a real patient gentleman.

The Drug, The Idea, The Self

Drugs have a power and a way of altering thought, which is sometimes necessary. They should be used as medicine, to heal. In excess, drugs are detrimental. A thought itself is a drug that can be interchanged at will, provided you are awake, capable, and strong. In a sense, straightedge, the idea to abstain from drugs—is also a drug. And perhaps, so is this statement, and in each breath, even bothering to mention drugs, thoughts, or anything. The thought is the drug. The drug is the thought. The straightedge kid who judges and jumps someone for not being straightedge, in a way takes on the role of what he thinks that drug will do (of course never having tried it himself). You will probably have a much more pleasant experience on acid than you would sitting uncomfortably in a room with a judgmental straightedge kid.

At my best, I’d like to think I was not that kind of straightedge kid and maybe that’s why I was able to move on. I’ve been operating on this koan for quite some time now: Mind expansion at all costs. To me it means, even though you may renounce the idea to abstain from drugs, that also does not mean that you become a slave to drugs. You chose wisely the ones you know that have the least harmful properties, you see where they take you, and once more, move on. So it is possible, despite popular opinion, to even go back to being straightedge. This will not win any friends or influence people, but it is your life.

It is easy to trip up on having fun, swept up and away, you’re off, gone. I call into question recreation itself, even rec’ rooms. Fuck rec’ rooms. Let’s put it this way, Neo took the Red Pill as a challenge, because he wanted to go somewhere. And it worked. Neo did not take the Red Pill day after day after day after day. He didn’t need to.

At what point do you realize you are The One? You are that variable that has power to move, sit still, to make decisions that influence so many other variables in space and time. The deep truth you discover inside yourself begins to radiate, if you let it. Think about that truth, whatever it may be. Is it time to define it?

Small Day

recovery day
a brush with something
bad but I insist
this is a day for getting
back up to speed

what facsinates me
you catch a bad wind
the immune system starts
fighting bringing everything
back online

to experience a fever
means things are ultimately
in order

bed making me sore pained
another day off work
sneezing and coughing
with the occassional
bowl of soup

getting there

what is special in your mind?

I’ve some more
kicking around left in me
I’m sure

The Gravelly Trail

the window
left open

through the
night I develop
a cold

wake sneezing
continue to do so

and there
is no escape
from its grasp

sneezes like
hammers
hammer home interruptions

I hit some coffee
go back to the car
and decide to
visit Memorial Park
for, really, the first time

just walk up the trail
there

cross the road there
to the other side
and slip…

I slide down the little hill
my arm twists
with a quick pain
as if I just lifted
a package incorrectly
I know I also just
pulled a clownish antic
an people are
laughing politely
beneath the line

I make it across
and as I walk continue
sneezing

a frisbee is thrown
across the road
a mother asks her
son if he’s able to
throw it back hard across
yes, he answers
annoyed
and after it’s already
over and she hardly
acknowledges
is onto nudging her
pretend sheepdog forward
Come on, let’s go

I think the same

empty rocks from shoes
get set launch from bench
crack another set of sneezes
into elbow
head further up trail

there are carts
men with clubs
men with lackeys
or assistants

patient standing on top
of the tiny ball
staring down at it

where will it go?

Made To Cry

I remember them
the days fit up over
each other cold
the cold ones we begged for

so when summer crept out
like at five in the afternoon
after having watched
a ton of movies
we grew sick with cold
and felt sorry regret same as we
burned sick in Texas heat and
below sea level trouble

the city we call town
small town
hidden bodies, though

is a city problem
and there are a lot of trendy faker kids

once when we fought
you tried to stack me up with them
but there
is no real fit

it is getting cold
I’m still
jumping on
the long board
going for a six pack
then another six pack

we break from work
take breaks
but talk about what
troubles us about
work
just who are these people
at our jobs?
we get stacked up
with them despite our wishes

well check this out—
I land a trick
the same trick
I landed in ‘86
a little rusty now
my feet cold
but I couldn’t write
a lick back then so really
you do have to keep
these things in ’spect

you remember what
that cold was all about?
it’s back again
it will get you set up

our town better known for
being singed
any snowfall
is snatched up by
the heat of a leaf and
made to cry

Headchange Prequel

If you play the game, the enjoyment of it is power, ability, leverage, maneuverability.

the combination… a head / ahead/ headchange

switch your handwriting up
up away off

timing, pushing a project along
battery suit up fine iPhone planet spinning with three small moons
plenty of water, even hidden water on reserve

spinning thoughts needing to make it to the page

at what cost / speed?
alleviate that pain

work on the book— looking solid

shoot the letter G
not me

imprint then scan encircle
o her way
not that there’s
anything wrong with that

CONVERSATION bomb

convert the Christian into a gay atheist. you know there’s nothing wrong with that.
why are you sweating?

Halloween Opus

head not to myopics—
short nerds behind window fog
can stay in the
boondocks and eff themselves

I was born in jail, bitch

what is that, a camera?

wanna go outside and
enjoy the sharpness of the moon?

it’s a… consider it a survey

time to publish
it’s starting to feel right again

your reputation surrounds you
the Garfield dog
appears yellow

I’m a Transformers scholar
go head to toe with me
it’s a Fun thing…

make the top of a T look like a bad mustache

a bad dream
Tee off on the course for a discount
get it goin’

High Times Magazine
I am the author
of my own high times

From The Sky

Bukowski’s women

Jay Leno’s women
Bill Clinton’s women
the women in the library
the women above you
the women below you
and the women in the library…
reminding you of your fines from the sky
and false fires, and those coming out
with a secret to the press
a symphony mistake

all the blue angels flew in formation
to their demise

run away reporters, let us know about the
hell down there.
bitch-back. laundry. photo.
kiwi salsa cale. highway freed.
bargain hunter lunchbox screwdriver
health beat Bermuda triangle spoilers.
haters. equators. ecquador fantab figment
of your imagination what you say
instead blood for oil
is a target hit and shopping here before
was a real pit.
next to a pyramid a franchise
and freedom fries
stomp around with your moon
boots to unearth buried
girls and guys
from under the franchise
with freedom fries
with more dead girls
and other dead guys
a whole lot of ‘em
met their demise
demonize
homocide

fire falls
from the sky

you laugh at me while
you’re sitting on the Fox and The Hound log
fall of the worst year
fall off and hear
something snap
they do talk a lot
needles and darts
in the beginning miss
the whole board
corrected mistakes and
zits popped
hid behind and peaked out
far away safe
a coward
throws her malitov
from the corals to
the curls
they come back as bratty
runny-nosed fire crackers

peace to you motherfuckers
peace to your attackers
turn the other cheek to your attackers?
don’t lust after the animal crackers

the moment taken in altered under the
mooshy influence of
whatever that was in the pipe
some say it’s one thing, I say it’s just moss

smoking it helps more than I realize cuz I’m driving and start feeling its disassociative affects and I’m thinking, Damn, I’m high. which means Damn I’m kinda uncomfortable, then comfortable, yet kinda un…believable. life feels fairly unbelievable at least some of the time. I’ll push and warp the rest of time.

problems sting like
honey bees
another problem
is just what I need
the honeycomb gets
a cereal with its name on it
serial killers
are eating cereal

did you see

Bruno on Richard Bay
or was that
Straight Dave?

a fucked up hobby
makes for an interesting article
but not everybody likes
to read
many are faking it
I put on war paint
before cracking the books
and say
screw you backwards

drive around looking
for Bane Park
talking outloud for others
to catch like This one
needs more sleep
he’s off his rocker
he’s entering that
little number where he’s
a dog dreaming
chasing a rabit
the rabit is closer to god
no one gives a hoot owl’s worth

the grass greener on
the other side
smoke this moss on the other side
the werewolf bite
is the werewolf’s way of saying
go fuck yourself backwards
the vampire’s bite says
screw you from the sky
while god says
you run and you hide
I’ll go and
die

Dubious Hermitage

So much code/design study, I have to set a timer to break away or I will break my face. As I hack along, a random New Yorker texts me, pries for information, and before I know it—this guy turns out to be a web developer, someone I can barrage with questions all things CSS, jQuery, all of it… Strange how people fall out of the sky.

The timer chimes. Get up from chair. Go do something. Something else. Ironically, I find yet another apropos article. Eyes pained, stinging. Mind racing. Words flowing again. Body soreness is a soaring economy causing me some increasing concern: Pain is a promise.

I stir about in my rejuvenated car… “Reliable transportation!” I fire off officially in emails into the job pit. If a good team will hire me, we will put heads together and create something beautiful, efficiently. I just know it.

Ready for a new world.

Hell, I’m not even really bound to Houston. I can do what I do anywhere and I’ll be fine—at least until my spirits sink and I feel the need to be around the verdure of people again. Then what breed shall I find adequate?

This little apartment feels like a hermitage, one I’ve made from a game plan and the times, the circumstances: Me; cats; lady friend; books; movies—not in heretical order.

tea
headaches

an air conditioner
struggling in servitude