as above this below

good morning
it’s better further in

it’s better to write and keep
it all on paper for the eye
even myself
I’m having too much of
a drunken time
to listen others read
I’m feeling like an
asshole for that but
everybody’s got one
none of this is easy to
write down in a flow
and share with others which
should be a reminder to us
that the act of writing
first and foremost is
deeply personal
we should hold that as
a comfort
if we can write and
maybe Not share…
sometimes we need to
do that as a conscious practice

dear blog world,
I’m seated along a highway
under the bluest sky patch
and chilly chill
listening to the
eternally impersonal
roar of roadsters
each tree glad
to be spared in this
industrial clearing



a reminder comes that as long as there is grasping there is suffering which is suddenly comforting as i sit awake near 5 AM and think who I can be, like a better person on Wednesday morning in the wake of Tuesday’s blast depressive ruin to all day bouts of slug and catatonia. a storm came thru of rain, fits of sneezes, then let up. I swept the front room, gave a bow. now I play a documentary before sun up this chilly fill concept all buildings piled on a slant of mountain with a spot of snow.


I have a new thing in the works, here on the journal. Strangely enough, I seem to be doing a lot of my favorite writing here. And this is fine, but I also want to move more into the realm of physical print. And so if you read something here, then I turn around, print a book, charge you for that book, and it’s something you’ve already read… that’s not so fair.

Here’s my solution: I’m going to add a new TEMPORARY tag to each piece that I’m keen on and that will most likely be published either in book format or performed live on stage, blah blah… What will happen with that piece is that it will stay up online Public for a few days, then disappear out of sight, thus giving my regular readers more incentive to tune in on the daily.

So remember: TEMPORARY. Nothing lasts forever.

KRS Notes In Real-time

Just minutes away from the legendary KRS-One. Needless to say, big excitement is in the air. And there is still time, so come up if ya got nothin’ to do this fine Friday night; even if ya do, cancel out those plans. This is a big night in hip hop for Houston. Why wouldn’t ya wanna be here?

already some b-boys throw down some
lay down some footwork

landscape ta portrait ta late late
five dollar beers some things
never fucking change

thank god or the avenue
this is what you’re born into
death us what’s ahead of you

stop this violence squash
squawking beets
wrap up beefs
stop the drama
each one teach one
present the teacher

daft at draft Shiner
fuck motherfucking Budweiser
the crowd builds
up and up let’s see ya pop and lock
to the break of baldheaded pawn

sun scorched front lawns
yes yes y’all and ya don’t stop pot
leeeegalize it smoke it and eat it
why cry all night to savior Jeezus?

cry cry why cry
ya better save yoself before ya
wreck yoself
check check one
b-g-k-a-r-m-a dot ROM
baaaay-bayyyy on board
tick tock electo shock
fun tymes with pop rocks
small fry to cyclops

can ya hear me sound?
hear me now?

Into Town

bike into here
past the empty warehouse
all the countless stars sitting
politely up in the sky
bike onto this note shift
and closing ear
weird ear
names remembered slid
behind the stage my
picture from the wall like
an omen
a shakey hand
a firetruck of an alcoholic
money found from under there
up to New York pregnant with Atlas’
burden down to the third coast
should I have to ask for another?
they drown in the undertide the
smartest in the fam that
get paraded around and spoil the
moods of siblings in mountain towns
decades of what gets handed down

it is your burden now

Closing Time

everyone get out
this is get the fuck out of the bar song
closing time
Minor Threat throw it on
inquire as to what your intentions are

switch out the icon

are things down to…?

porno mag on the bar left behind

these are leave-behinds
and cast-offs

sleep back there

fall down and be back there

how come I end up where I was born

I don’t know about the cat
or your tounge

last call is past y’all

last call
pussy cat doll
I pass on by you
down the hall

lips attack
lips attach
smack and smack

something to do

now y’all get on past…
embrace your leaving now
go on git

wild west piece it together
shot glasses tumble
dirt skirted up in a scuffle
the three argue over credit cards
the homeless man sleeps
and is the most cooperative
when told shop is closed up

last provisions made
breakers flipped

ya try to mouth my next sentence for me
it is a troubled try

Another Tuesday

Tuesday the crowds gather and cheer the new president and hope is in the air

a flu bug is in the air
and my hopes frown
at the bottom of the barrel
waiting for a pleasant surprise

it’s the face you have
to look at for quite awhile

and when the speech was done
he could’ve thrown some
better poets up there
like Saul Williams
the Bad Brains
or hell, me

but here we are aren’t we?
are not we
aleady alive?

those who have not
fallen asleep in their own vomit
those who are still awake
please pick up your trash and
the trash of others for
at least a good fifteen minutes.
this goes to show graditude and
appreciation are not dead
(though nibbled on, ahem).

post-inaug. notes what’s it feel like to be the father of the boy who dies from debris at a monster truck show? in an altered state you wonder what it’s like to be the boy, the object piercing your skull. maybe due to trauma you shut down and go to another place, then you go to another place.

the heater won’t come on ever again and is evil and I’ll do my real shit talking in the morning and demand only the best since I am after all paying the fucking bill, right?

change is gonna happen
some change is gonna slow crawl
into existence
other change is going to
spill into the contents of your luggage
or swipe the hand
off your Buddha statue
at a monster truck show


they the two don’t know my
true travels or intentions.
which is my right from
since birth to change up my accent
as I please.
a smooth dinner floor to sit
and report back to Cobra Commander.
penny at bottom fountain
lands on another
I ask what the difference is
between Buddha and Krishna
already knowing but
wanting to hear from them
and of coarse these are the
cookies cut like paper dolls
playing ring around the rosy

have you heard of
our rosaries?
have you gone to India?

have you finished
up most of your business?

Sidewalk Talk

shells of spiritualism
automatic society gone off the hay
any assurance is backpeddled
you now see the sidewalk
for what it is
she looks at me with eyes
from since infant
their stereo booms like that
there go the hubcaps
they drive
don’t even know
capture the heart
of man as a boy flying a kite
vulnerable switch-offs
all the bills slip into your post
ten openings all of them haggard

Podcast 6 Available

Thanks thanks. This is a rambling rambly show. Biggest show yet. And it is directed towards writing or writers in particular. You may even wanna have it going on in the background while you have your pen at the page. Click the link in the sidebar if you haven’t already subscribed.

Ink Poison

winter couch neck crick heater fritz damn. morning growl shoulda grabbed cereal beforehand. cold as as a snowflake they fall and don’t stick on our town. melting novel figures disassembled by sunshine by pounding wind. frigid winter will power challenge. late night radioshow dedicated to writing with courage. lightning bold friend. life changes, boiled eggs. you look at me that haughtily some more, I’d appreciate. everyone thinks this is about them. if you are an advanced animal you walk around on two legs and your thumbs help you to weave my broken heart back to health transitioning from year to year. are you that human, live near, make six or seven figures? there are healing agents, I just don’t so quickly list them so as to risk poor moves on the board. not everyone is decent. a paragraph that talks your head off. more. cough. the heater I beg come on finally does then overstays welcome. hold a pen in your hand for stabbing a person lunging at you, they who will be sorry. counteract with ink poisoning.

Delusions Of Famine

where you been?
it’s been awhile
we pittle with grammar piles
is it okay if I call you…
call me what?
no answer

removal certain
tomato soup lingering on
drunk as skunk breath
are you safe to be?
you remind me of
a toy I once had as a child

are you trying to
tell me I’m a child?

think hard
don’t sit still for too long
don’t feel you have
much to do for them for
very long
or at all
each and every servant
may perchance remain
fixed fixated in the groove…
it’s a shame

A Line

cooling bright space of warm yellow canary 1960s driers at the spot

cool words with me I’ve come this far along ya better think twice because I’m maybe only just a little nicer than you can be

I’m the decider now


each idea is a break away, a runaway hit

the beauty of an underground movement is its sincerity, contained in small numbers

he said for as long as everyone standing in the line in India is patient it all works out for where everything can get screwed up the culture itself is vastly sophisticated and at peace

and I think twice thrice now talking to you just what is true what is not true and there is no ego about it so whatever harsh thing is said it’s not in interest of sinking you

only I annoy you anyway no matter what is said and I’m driven a little or a lot insane

now or never it is that

get up or die

ya cross a line, you cross a line

I will clank and move and ignore depression

I will fuck a new hole into the side of the watermelon wall of depression, are you two sisters?

I am standing tall
I am standing firm on
new issues to me
I will discuss with anyone
these are all bendable and growing
devoid of ego and attachment
I will put it laymen’s terms
so plenty down to earth folk
can stabilize on analogies

whoever has heart rise up fly up and out and create or just shine bright a bit

think different, as needed