Monthly Archives: January 2018

Out of Rhythym

All my memories in a box filled with tears and laughter
It’s magical and mournful
As I stand here empty and fearful of what comes after

It’s all gone, but I’m stuck here
In between yesterday and tomorrow
feeling sadness and fear

I can’t be here now with my body and soul
No matter how I try I’m trapped
A fragmented existence neither present or whole

Some say slow motion, or maybe surreal
This space isn’t now
And doesn’t seem real.

I speak in sentences I watch float away
With memories of tomorrow
fearing yesterday

I hear those voices
whispering in my mind
Sometimes they’re yours
And others are mine

So together we’re lost in time
No rhythm is safer
Than living a rhyme

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Night Sweats

I dream long nights away to other fortunes. Like the sweat from arduous journeys; the scenes twist my fears and desires into macabre premises. Relentlessly I forge ahead through lucid expressions of guilt or joy painting memories from reality. Awakening between here and there leaves me rigid within the breath of now.

It’s here I’m an artist. I paint without brushes, write with my thoughts, or make love with my mind satisfying the worlds desire to consume me. This is a battle in a war that has waged within my souls since dreams were born.

I’m no warrior or epic lover conquering my ego, more of an observer of possibilities yet realized. Here, in the safety of the subconscious I see the world through my eyes. No filters to color people or anoint my belief. Here I’m human and true to something beyond reality.

Like the child stoically looking through the rear window of a car as it slowly drives through the fog of gray leaving something behind that will never be found, I’m outside of myself, divorced from the nature of my silence by layers of understanding.

These are silent films. Noise is expressed through colorful scenes and emotions. I know the colors that represent the set, but I’m smart enough to leave that pallet on the shelf, so as not to hinder the meanings I want myself to feel. Color gets in the way of feeling the meanings, like emotions mask the lovers affair with herself.

Dreamers speak of awakenings as if the morning won’t return to day and put to rest the nights toil. We live in an awakening of denial that all we see, all we feel, our entire existence is nothing more than an awakening to self; we always know.

In the end we are a dream. We are a history. Most importantly we are here as a possibility. The most import part of that possibility isn’t food, family, or fortunes. The most important part of that possibility is shaped by those hours spent in another reality realizing fears or conjuring desires that shape tomorrow behind the scrim of now. It’s here monsters and miracles share meanings and myths.

Gaze

I look into your eyes till you become a feeling and desire consumes my heart. I no longer see us, I feel the space that’s always one pulse away from something unexplainable. A place where love pales in comparison.

I keep writing in hopes of finding the words; in the same manner I keep looking deeper into your eyes hoping to find that space where you and I no longer are us. Where a minute is eternity.

Your eyes are embedded in my soul. I breathe to see you past anywhere sight could take me. Blinded by the beauty of us. The beauty of two people without a world to cloud the light of love.

I no longer look at you; I’ve seen what loving deeply means. Your gaze draws me within myself where the embers of us burn forever. Your eyes are like a soft breeze igniting memories and hopes into the fire of now.

Every time I look in your eyes is like looking into the lucid heat of a mirage. I feel the heat of our love warming my soul and suddenly the world melts around us. So I’m lost within now stretched across moments and space, hiding from time and the world, lost within you.

Circles of Crazy

They say I’m poor, downtrodden and lazy
Because I sit and watch these circles of crazy

My worth doesn’t count on dollars and cents
Like others who live and lie behind a star spangled fence

My clothes are worn, not tattered, and my hands are soiled
But my mind is callouses from the hours toiled

No suit or tie except Sunday’s, weddings, and funerals
Only slaves wear things around their necks like animals

My back is hard with pain and glory, no time to tell, just living my story.

So don’t count on me for dollars or votes
I’ll be workin real hard on next weeks notes

I ain’t got time for drama or fiction,
Just the truth I see about you and conviction.

Legacy of fools

I’ve been listening to this translucent legacy of fools for my entire life. It’s akin to listening to your kids out front whining long enough you finally get up from your favorite sports team on TV and go outside to solve the problem for them. My confidence is inherent because the situational possibilities are predictable and timeless, even though the kids can’t understand that, I do. That’s all I want to say, “I see through the drama and understand the ignorance behind the whining.

First and foremost, I’m smart enough to understand the difference between race and culture. Race is a scientific classification based on biological characteristics that largely manifest themselves in physical appearances for the average person. Skin color, hair texture and color, and body composition. This is an automatic response as a human being. Our DNA has probably passed down the primitive need to evaluate a stranger for a fight or to breed. We don’t want to acknowledge that, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

Culture, on the other hand, are the social characteristics that we share in order to establish bonds with our group. It’s influenced by geography, climate, heritage. So, fish don’t end up on the tables of desert southwest Native American ceremonial meals. Nor does African ceremonial dress usually include boots made from animal fur. These are obvious observations. There are many subtle characteristics today we may or may not acknowledge.

So, “back in the day” you may react differently to a stranger who shows up with an animal bladder full of water strapped around their neck wearing a breech cloth than you would a stranger with a bow in their hand and a body full of piercings and tattoos. The need for stereotyping is obvious here, each one is projecting something starkly different.

Fast forward today and you have the same primitive instinct subtly used to warn or alert us to the need to consider our safety or our desires. A stiff looking dude in a leather jacket with sunglasses and boots send a different message than a thin girl with “bootie shorts” and a “bikini top” wearing perfect make up and manicured hair.

So even though we may be the nicest guy or gal in town, how we present ourselves is important. We are learning to acknowledge these observations and ignore them for the possibility the guy in the leather jacket is a saint, but that goes against our primitive knowledge.

Music is s message. You get a completely different vibe from one tribe sitting around a fire playing a flute under the moonlight than you do from a tribe beating drums while stomping and yelling around a fire. If you’re traveling at night alone the choice to bypass one and take a chance with the other is obvious. Doesn’t mean it’s the correct choice, but the feeling is there for a reason.

So if I transcend my primitive comfort zone and arrive at the party dressed in jeans and a T-shirt only to see everyone dressed in highly ornate outfits with manicured hair and faces made up I’m going to be out of place and searching for someone dressed like me, or someone I know.

If I look on the serving table and see rats over a fire and lizard kabobs sitting on fresh beds of Bahia grass around an ornate chalice of what appears to be blood; I’m going to have a few thoughts highlighted with feelings.

All of these examples, and there are many more, may seem exaggerated or hyperbolic. I would just remind you they are accurate and true. We can teach ourselves to overcome these stereotypes, but they won’t go away because they serve to benefit our safety and desires.

So how does this fit in my “legacy of fools” idea. Today we have most folks running their mouth, (see how I did that) about race not understanding they’re talking about culture. If you’re “saggin” or “posin” you don’t represent European or African Americans. You represent a culture within America that is perceived, and perceives theirselves to hold certain cultural values.

I use these two examples because let’s face it, the real noise about race (culture) in America is between European and African Americans within certain cultures. By and large most folks go to work together, school together, and have relationships between each other that function at a level above what is portrayed.

I’ve been listening to those tired ass leftover civil rights vultures run their mouth about shit they no absolutely nothing about so they can keep a status since I was young. They failed. In the 50’s and 60’s the movement chose a direction that was segregation on our terms, not desegregation. So now you have one culture within our country that segregated theirselves to unite us. I know right, don’t make sense.

Then we had a level of “house Slave” that guarded access to the votes, programs, and dollars associated with a particular culture within the African Americans that was a cash cow for both of these groups. They, (meaning European and African American civil rights and political figures) created this group consciously. This is why Martin Luther King JR was a threat to both groups, he was a leader and bowed only to his God. If you think otherwise you’re very naive. Look at the assassinations in the 60’s and read those men’s views on culture and race. These pariahs left over today are complicit most likely, because they wouldn’t have been able to do much more than march behind these folks.

The northeast and southeast largely drive this narrative. Up north access is political through ethnic Burroughs and unions. In the south it’s through money and family lineage. In both instances there are groups of folks outside the main power structure that benefit from the divisions created. We call them civil rights activists. They’re mouthpieces for the power structure in exchange for access and privilege.

This pipeline of dysfunction is popular and it drives food, clothing, shelter and music. Every aspect of this has been marketed, politicized, and developed intentionally. It’s largely a lie, but every facet of America benefits from the lie, so it’s a necessity.

The poor Mexicans weren’t slaves in the modern era. The poor Irish only had a famine. The Italians said to hell with it and made crime a career. The only heritage the lower socio economic African American had is slavery, because no one will admit that segregation gave access to power to some African Americans through influence, why would they want to desegregate, their power would be threatened. So eliminate that voice, create a ghetto class, and show up shouting about slavery and segregation every time an election comes around. Which is all to often. This is the “community organizer” hustle!

Now we have leveled out to the point there are African American, European, Mexican, even Asian ghettos across the country using the same model. Access to the poor and their drama is lucrative.

The poor I’m referring to are not the working poor who don’t have time for this shit. They live close enough to it they know the hustle and don’t want to be part of it. The problem is it’s popular to group folks. So everyone gets lumped into these dysfunctional groups based in the latest incident that involves their ethnic group or race. It doesn’t represent their particular culture, but they get lumped into it for political or financial reasons. Who wouldn’t get angry at that, hopefully they’re anger is directed at the right folks.

I realize I’m criticizing a legacy. I do believe it started out with good intentions. I also know some great stories of folks working together throughout Americans history regardless of their race, culture, or ethnic group. These civil rights vultures don’t want you to know these truths. It threatens their privilege.

I hope in 2018 folks take a little more interest in exposing the lies that separate us. They’re out there and obvious if you care to look. You can just ignore it, but trust me, it’s not going away, and it’s coming to a nerve near you. So let’s review the real history and motives, put the hero’s in the museum, and the vultures out to feed on the scraps of intelligent thought.

Shattered Illusions

I’m tired of hearing my thoughts, I want to be felt, not read. I want to be understood, not interpreted. All this noise out there is deafening. I want my own frequency.

I don’t care if you’re right, or left for that matter. I care that you are willing to compromise your integrity by screaming vomit as a way of distancing yourself from your absurdities. You can attack me when your point is dull, that’s popular; just remember your tone doesn’t make you right, it makes you loud.

I’m sick of the ignorance. It goes way beyond feelings at this point. We educate folks because ignorance is dangerous. It’s not anyone’s fault your paralyzed into fear over shit you don’t understand. Wake up and think. Stop relying on folks to explain things to you. This makes you the victim.

There are folks out there with elaborate methods to direct your thoughts towards their goals. They will appeal to your needs, your fears, or your aspirations for their pockets.

They dangle pensions and medicine like your an ass strapped to a cart being led by a plastic carrot. Don’t believe me, look, listen, hear what’s going on around you. It’s very clear if you open your mind.

You can be a career, or live to be a legacy, or pass along freedom and adventure’s journey. There’s a long line of mules dressed as prosperity sitting on my mantle as a reminder. A reminder that the size of the cage doesn’t change the fact we’re captured, borders are borders.

Folks don’t even understand freedom anymore. It’s a word with colors that are translucent. They think liberty is something to strive for, not understanding that you have to be imprisoned to be liberated. They trade the suffocation of more oppressive ideologies for the delusion of an overdressed prison yard with rules that even tell them how to cross a street.

There was a time little signs dotted manicured green spaces warning us not to walk on the grass. This was to protect the efforts of those that sculpted the illusion of beauty and preserve the image of order.

100 years later there are millions of folks who don’t “walk on the grass” because it’s dirty, or there are bugs, and a good many who fear stepping off the path.

Now truth has been bred out of your DNA. You cry for more laws, rules, and regulations as a right to be imprisoned. We despise honesty like a mirror that reflects our obese ideals. So now the shattered pieces of what you realize was a lie are spread out before you to reassemble into this compartmentalized insanity.

Don’t listen to me. Don’t listen to the folks who want to own each piece of your shattered insanity to reflect patriotic colors as a blinding light. Listen to your mind, feel with your heart, and walk away from the ephemeral prison that has been created for you to spend most of your life as an inmate only to enjoy a few years as the guard.

Freedom doesn’t have boundaries, it has consequences. Liberty can’t be passed on or inherited, it’s our inherent birthright as humans to think and act freely without regard to power. We self regulate.

America is beautiful. Our ideals noble. Our people diverse and charitable. This is unique in the history of the world. Our government no longer represents, nor resembles us. It seeks to divide us with their fears. Their fear that we’ll collect their shattered pieces and take away the prism they use to perpetuate this blinding ignorance. It’s s matter of time and circumstance whether that’s done through civil means or sacrifice.

Leaders of the Free World

Is America still a free country? There are many answers to this complex question. The fact that we’re asking this question reveals much about the barrage of attempts over the centuries to define America, which in many cases is separate from the American.

The origin of America was built by independent individuals seeking liberty from a dysfunctional system of hierarchal tyranny. The men and woman who founded America were here before the “patriots” came together to politicize freedom. They obviously didn’t want to be bothered with a country and the political dysfunction that comes with those folks. Managing a farm with rudimentary tools and limited knowledge of the land would be enough to keep many folks busy.

Today we have a hard time remembering that in the not so distant past politics and America did not inundate our day. We weren’t saturated with the guile that comes from a life of compromising everything from morals to men. It was even more so for the folks who founded the concepts with which America was formed. Politics were a necessary evil that good men took time out to resolve before moving back to the real work of living.

The same was true of the real patriots who served as soldiers in the revolutionary war. They left their homes to fight for the liberty to live a life without politics and governing. Inadvertently this was a fight for America, but liberty and freedom for all was the real goal. These folks would probably shake their head at the American and the America of today, both would be unrecognizable.

You have twits out there spending literally a lifetime in public office sending dollars and sense out the window like confetti on the 4th of July. These folks are dysfunctional by the nature of their endeavors. We know that truth, integrity, and other moral concepts that keep folks standing upright looking others in the eye are foreign to them. However; we tune in to the drama constantly on some form of media. We tune in for the entertainment value.

These characters put America in peril. The American can survive, but the country can unravel like the chemical queens and pasty patsies who pretend they’re running something. Presidents don’t win wars, warriors win wars. Politicians don’t create jobs, business men create jobs. The government doesn’t provide services, the workin mans taxes take care of the less fortunate. Yet time after time we hear about bills with names attached to them, acts attributed to presidents, or resolutions by congress that have roots in some Americans pasture. Politicians talk about what Americans are doing and use those efforts to further their ambitions to stay in office, rather than in the field where hands get dirty and shirts soiled.

The closest we get to an American in our political theater today is either a manicured menace who had a grandfather who climbed a ladder, or a third generation immigrant who thinks because their grandparents crossed an ocean or a river they have swimming in their veins. The reality is the original American politician stood tall on his own efforts using his hands to create a nation.

Today these type of folks are rare. I’m not sure I’ve even seen one outside of my military service, and those men wouldn’t put up with the drama. We’re in a leadership crisis and it’s gonna take a generation or so for the necessary callouses to harden the hands that today have crooked fingers from playing make believe with a controller and a fantasy.

Freedom has eroded alongside leadership. We now have a couple generations of folks that cry out for regulation, laws, and conditions upon all facets of our life. They can’t solve their own problems or rise above their own inefficiency. This is the pool we’re swimming, or drowning in, depending on your point of view.

We need strength to be free. There will be folks pushing back against the strength necessary to pull us out of this hole because today’s citizens believe they need to be governed.

Any leader understands if you start hard, when you ease up those following you will be more receptive. Our problem is we’ve been weak and now to get hard on the folks who’ve gained in this environment will only produce a gaggle of grown folks acting out like kids who lost the controller to their favorite game. Don’t believe me, just look around.