Friday, June 12, 2015
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Thursday, May 05, 2011
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
And what of those times;
merry May: a dilapidated rusty iron pig
outside the gates of Providence?
Preoccupied with the swine,
and the rust, it oxidized into its bones--
- those dry old bones.
How sick it made me feel,
when I finally could step into the divine light,
and having forgotten,
to see once again the elements of my eternal fire.
Beatrice I saw then,
but you so many years back,
what had I done? Used you? But for what?
And blame it on the fatigue, or was it indecision?
But for insecurities, all man's worth would crumble.
To prove a point, as many a Jew was a martyr
to an Egyptian ferrying the sands,
Mercedez-Benz clipping off the wet street.
and yet still the same hope,
powered those: Ashira! (even a wet, sad ghetto face alive now)
And here a boy impresses his father.
And back then to you, my dear.
When the sunrise became apparent,
and the last seed had been planted,
and a field had become a forest in my body.
Where were you to be found,
and what had the past afforded?
All too dear,
and all too clear,
the turmoil was apparent, a
delectable delicatessen served on a simple flatbread.
When the man focuses too much on the flavor,
when he focuses too much on the falsity,
when he focuses instead on the delusion it provides,
is he not rejecting the beauty of her simplicity?
It is back into those dry bones, those pure bones, that goodness...
That the beauty of her simplicity lies abound.
And my love, what have I done to you?
To have made you a hapless creature,
lit on fire, and sprung into a whirlwind of emotions...
Emotions not meant for you-
free as a gust,
fiery as a fox,
flowing as the Mystic (and so mystical), and yet
stable as a rock. (if need be, and I needed you; so badly, desperately)
Emotions that eventually created a ravine,
grand as a canyon.
Turning on the barren stoop, I barely managed to say I love you,
before you turned, and the door shut, and I never saw you again.
In the end, I wished to have no regrets,
and as I mourn the past, and I lie here in a foreign land,
where the sun has begun to set in the East, [you lie to the West, my darling]
and I cough the last blood of so many migratory Indo-Arayans, mutts,
-- started by the noblest creature. (we all thank him)
I had a regret eternally.
I pondered a past where,
instead of allowing her firm and succulent breasts to set my eyes ablaze,
I instead allowed the veins underneath that skin to guide me to her core.
[Is this not Zion?]
Take a trip to her very dry, and very beautiful bones.
So finally when Death itself was lying on the bed with me,
sharing a drink of that hard rubbing scent that characterized my
Eastern soul and drink, and the vodka cleared all of the concern,
she came to me again, but in the saddest way; but in a relieving manner.
And stripped away was excess,
Gone was temptation for that redox of greed, gluttony,
that I had inched into her all those times, (an infinity)
and instead there was the inkling I tried to deny myself.
And to think that. And to...
To end it that way, killed by the stuffed and treacherous horse,
---when instead we could have walked into the sunset.
And why did we not?
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Hyper-shift cykotelekinesis over drive hippie shit...
yeah, that's the way we cool, because we rock.
And when the guitar strums.
Super duper uber waves vibrate within us.
The long-haired guitarist rips onto the stage,
and we're camping there just checking the sights.
A-hah, it's the festival didn't you know?
This new ride in town, the caravan,
the kids we be followin' are all the rave,
you funny knave.
I be ki-kidding, and scared as we are, rollin through.
That all we do...
Cause we are this generation,
stand up when the music goes: pop!
And wave your arms in the air.
Millenium has passed; no shit went down.
Give us about three more years.
Are the Mayans right?
Candlelight, the fireflies are waving back and forth,
baaaack and forth, back-and-forth, oooooh!
(the one man in the middle point up and says "ooooh!")
[Except for the images I'm painting,
are you inspired too?
I create this artwork for you!]
Extremely possessive child of greed,
why do you come this way?
Except for to be turned down by the children of god?
And to be wondered why, why?
Forthcoming are the sinners of Ezekiel,
when they walked into the sun and died,
because the air was so god-damned dry.
And will the oceans still be safe, when we return?
When we turn back into those impish creatures and re-return.
To the ocean of life,
For now, for now, for now...
Us pinko-hippie socialist freaks keep rocking on.
Because we rock on...
And we rock on...
And we rock on.
Kid, we rock.