On the Corner of Written and Poetry


When I throw rhymes, I never miss

Cuz I spit lines that have to hit

Like collisions in traffic

Mind splits

On unexpected topics

Like egg-shells in my grips

Time slips

Like the cadence of infants to the mic with, tight fist

Cupped to feedback whack writs

Indiginious to throw fits

Like that gets the interest of crowds…

But no, time slips because of the imphasis of now

Brought back like spaceships to the ground

Till sound vibrates the meaning of how

I broke through your conscience and left a print on your brow

Eyes cocked and ears squinted

Catching ink drips of the bread crumb trail

Written on the faces of the people standing next to you

So well…

It can be read like brail.


Cuz when I thow rhymes I never miss

I spit lines that have to hit

Like a commet to the planet, the damage if you could manage to stand it would brand it a waste land to -be picked clean by bandits

Or rather just whack emcees hungry for an audience

The plan is obvious to me, but obviously, it landed because you’re listening to them

And that means the space retained for tight lyrics was obliterated by my sustained dilevery

There is no mystery contained in this

Cuz when I throw rhymes…

I never miss.



Shock wave

Dynamic transister disposition

My configuration is an audio visual compilation

Twins, simultaneous universal stipulations

Which keep my psyche focused on those drastic presentations

Leaving no time for hesitations

As the ground is vanishing from beneath my feet in hesitations…

I see rifts in time

Cliffs they be

Oblique, inchanting and mystique

Deathly cold winds cut my body as these visions come aflame inside me

No death

No life

Only emptiness in sight

I fall to die, I soar the sky, no need to cry, beyond why I try to make anything out of this nothingness

I see no end…

Yet here it is…

I satand on land again with the horizon of in the distance the sun’s warmth laning upon my skin


My translation is purification

Gratification is dancing from my heart towards all creation

A teacher’s lesson was taught

When it was wisdom that I sought

Peep this, here is what I got…

As I rely on others, they rely on me

When I fall, so shall they

This is what I see

This lesson did not come cheap

I will heavily reap

And coarsly weep

As I succumb myself to this next valley approaching this next peak

Where I will learn a new lesson

But if I ever run into that same cliff again

I can call upon my teachers wisdom

“My dicisions, affect the people around me”

And these are my CLIFFS.


Foolish Dream


I have been thinkin lately

Yeah, yeah…

I know right, thinkin.

But I’ve been thinkin, that I shouldn’t dream, well, not of love anyhow.

For some reason, it seems the whole love thing has given up on me.

Its not their fault, well, not entirely, this battle worn heart of mine is calloused.

And is overgrown with with thick layers of fear woven together like a labyrinth of poisonous raiser-sharp-thorn-bushes, impossible to maneuver and deadly.


That may be a bit of an exaggeration, just a wee…

But the point is that I have yet to find the one who can unlock the prison gates that hold this heart of mine pent.

What happened to bumping into your soul mate at the super-market


Spilling all the contents in your arms, like

“oops, sorry…”

And falling madly in love, forever?

Where did the late night phone calls go?

You know the ones we use to make, just to hear each other’s voice?

Before there were text messages and short-hand-computer-jargin L.O.L.’s and O.M.G.’s?


And mail order brides from UGOTRANSLUTVANIA flooding my emails I never gave to anyone, I thought, I didn’t trust?

When you had to actually call someone, stop what you were doing, sit down, and talk?

Because if there was a cell phone around, it was the size of a suit case and it would give you a brain tumor just looking at the contraption?

Its like the world has gotten too fast for love and too short for forever and no one likes to meet in public anymore…

4 people at a table, with 4 other people all texting 4 other people at 4 other tables, with 4 other people all texting 4 other people at 4 other tables with 4 other people and so on…

Forgetting the waitress with the cute smile whom did her make-up just to be pretty at work.

But, don’t say hello, cuz you’ll spook the skin off the pour girl. And don’t ask her for her number without your FACEBOOK RESUME, pictures included and dated, prepared and calibrated for instant download on PDA platform digitation.

What happened to walks in the park and awkward moments, not filled with the chimes of status updates, now those, oh so welcome interruptions? “I just had a peanut butter sandwich, mmmmm…”


It’s like love isn’t meant to last, but is it even here any more?

How can I find it a midst this barrage of inquiries?

The world got so much smaller with all these devises and networks but all it did was crowd out Ms. Right.

Thought it would be easier, but awe well…

Just stay focused, build this company, turn this dirt into an empire, make music until my ears can’t hear and forget about this love thing, dreams are for kids, “SILLY RAPPER.” But I tell you what, silly or not, I desperately wait to find the woman who can derail me like a car on the train tracks and consume me. A woman so worth while I could forget just what it is I am doing here. A woman so fun to be around and that made me feel so good I couldn’t help but be near, couldn’t help but call just to hear her say, “Hello.”

I miss childish things like dreams.

And that’s why when I walk through the super-market I carry my basket in my hands, because one day, when I’m all wrapped up in building my empire and being a successful musician and I forget about women, I’m just in a rush to get what I need all discombobulated in my head with plans and technicalities, I will clumsily bump into a woman, lose all the contents in my basket, and she’ll say “Hello…” with a twinkle-in-he- eyes, derailing everything I think is so important about right now… and she’ll show me, a glimpse, of forever…


Got It All Wrong


At First

When I was so young fairy tales were real me

I wanted you, like distant treasures I could only hope were there
A dream,
Dreaming itself, in distant places, wrapped up in comforts no dream would dare to dream of
But I dreamt you
And in my dream, you dreamt me
And we together, both, sipped, from ever flowing pools of happiness
Content with full stares over long moments of silence…
The nature around us bloomed with our moods
And sung in harmony the melody of our hearts
As we collapsed into one another’s arms

Our dream was of beauty
Our dream was of love

At  First…

The cold weighted current filling in around us
ushered succession
Which surfaced like balloons
As though they were held under too much water.
Our dreams escaped us
As the world flooded in
Forcing us to grow up
We clutched for and lost all we’d ever known

Our Dream
& Our Love
The world,
Is a weathering machine
That peals layers of fancy off of us,
Like, shavings of wood over a carver’s pick
As it shapes us
And it scrapes the mystery away
All the while the hustle bustle of becoming adults
Catches us,
Caught in it’s rush
Disregarding one dream after the next as childish and unworthy
Until we forgot hot to believe in things of wonder
And magic became a story gimmick
Reduced to rubbish

So naturally,
We grasp onto that which was prepared for us by the world
And we became the Job
We became the Slave
We became
The dollars a day spent on quad shot espressos
The blank stares in elevators, screaming (Enough is Enough!!!!)
We became
The bank,
The savings account,
The banker in the tie persuading us to spend money we didn’t got
On things we didn’t need
We became
The car,
The store,
The I Pod,
The gazillions of songs piled in wasted digital space
The Ethernet cables connected worthless devices
The cell phones that connected us to the essence of being in the twenty-first century
Lost if they were, forever out of touch
We became
The Grades on our credit scores like they were criminal background checks
Because money was who we really were… right???
And rushed with literal obligations
We fell through empty relations
With emotionless faces
And we became
Flustered with felonious pleasures of life, fallaciously weathering away our innocence
Being carved by the carver,
With pick in hand,
Our dreams were slowly shaved from our lives
As we resided to become the countless entities
That we, somehow believe our world to be

And that’s when
True love,
Was almost forgotten

But, mostly by accident
One day
We met
We bumped into one another
And as our eyes connected
We froze
But not for long, lest we be caught, dreaming
So shamed to believe
But, in that short moment
The violent thunder of an ancient magic being awoken
Quaked through all the layers of our past
And resurfaced,
Bringing with it an uncomfortable heat and dry mouthed ness
Moments slipped into hours, almost without notice
And the dream
Slowly came back to life
As we fall into one another’s arms…
And when our lips touched
The world stopped…

True Love knew True Love,
Before and without all the rest of the junk we throw in its way
All that just sort of slipped out of sight
Our dream was stronger
Our dream was of beauty
Our dream was of love…

Wonder what else the world got wrong…


Regrets, Not So Simple


An oblong monolith of thought
Sitting in the dust of yester regrets
“Why, why, why-why-why…”
And lets the plea die in the quest.

Half wake,
Eye opening to a reality it doesn’t know exist,
Catches glimpse,
Of a grim-grotesque-quaking rumble, rainbowless, echoing from distant fear.
Hope dies slowly-quick, pricking the retina, infecting it’s perception with debt
As the origin of it’s distress comes into focus…
A nether-less fortress where the less fortunate die fortuneless
Pridefully descending into the abyss of souls spent,
Searching  bottomless pits, treasure crumb bits
Exhausting the Artemis within
Until life’s depth becomes monotonous,
The cavernous mysteries level up to endless horizons not shifting one inch
And the lids of over focused eyes,
Fixed on image
Lose grips
Of what it is that is
All pursuits are drained of their meaning
And nothing, is accomplished…

“Why, why, why-why-why…”

You see, I see, the we, that be, the fluid grasp of still not free, blowing to and fro on native trees violently…

You see I see the we that be the fluid grasp of still not free blowing to and fro on native trees                   ! VIOLENTLY!

The prison of a cell in a mind, who disregards time, to question why ,
The 767 miles, prior to the clang of the door, slamming hitching locking stitching vibrating
Slowly, dissipating into the nothing that IS, SILENCE.
Went the way it did?
Is self righteously filled with the weight of a life begging for rest.

The omen and only clue,
Is the heart racing to stop unbeknown in a man’s chest
Beating there is nothing left into rhythmic strains of forethought trained to drop the after effect
Of an exaggerated word or phrase like
“what the FUCKKKKKKKKK!!!”…
? Is going on? what am I doing here?
This cant be happening to me, Not me, why me?
I don’t belong here, I do not see the reason for my being
And yet I am…
I think therefore I do,
I live so true, so far, so cool, so round about and nonchalant, so out of scope with all of you
That this place I live, the mind wont give a chance or second reparation kid,
My bones won’t quit, I die to live,
Without a weapon, untrained, dripping wet from sweat of fear
Cuddled in a bomb of dear
Embalming myself a world unclear
Dreary is this scape so near
My walls so close could drip a tear
Could feel the weight of me, the down right case insanity
And eventually,
The crying plead
A slave,
“! Dear god…
Why am I not free!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Could this past of mine,
This life I led to lead,
Have naught a spec release
Not one moments passing peace?
Must these thoughts forever haunt, plaguing me with nightmares taunt,
Dangling me, hooks in my back, above everything, I thought I’d be
For the rest of your eternity?

Cant you see…


In the Perspective of a Man Having Died, Looking Back



I hear the sliding ring of metal bootstraps on concrete
Where black leather shoes are met by a navy blue suit complete
With a side stripe running up to the waist holstered with pistol,
Clasped and fastened in,
Bellow a light blue button up,
Badge, shining golden
And ears receiving excuses by the fist full
? What a hideous din?
The cop,
Irritated and disgusted,
Puts pen to report, just moments after arrest
Filing fleeting charges of domestic violence
Thinking to himself,
? How seldom do they stick?

Alcohol just seeped from my pours
With a sweaty stench
And drooling all over myself,
I managed to mutter the words
“I did it… because, I love her”
In a slobbery mess

“You have the right to remain silent…” began the cop
As he turned in the car to face me
So drunk,
My body began to sway
Almost ready to flop into the window
Relinquishing my consciousness

“Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law.” He continued.

But, I was well lit up
I couldn’t hear anymore
My body gave out from under me
And darkness overtook

Needed some time to drain

I woke late the next morning
On the jail floor, covered in piss
Blank headed, innocent, looking for immediate responses…

If I could have remembered,
I would have known that my wife Jill was hospitalized the night before
And was still in the emergency room fighting for her life,
I would remember chocking her
Half to death
Before beating her senseless
Closed fist,
Under the premise
“She must want this…”
! “She knows how all that shit just makes me indignant! I’m the man, I had to hit her, I had to because I love her!”

? What a crock of shit?
I couldn’t even remember what she did
If she did anything at all
To think I used to believe that shit..

But unfortunately I couldn’t remember,
The night was a blur at best

Then as always Jill got out of the hospital and bailed me before I had court
She dropped all the charges
The system couldn’t do anything
Because it was well within her right to do so

I never did understand why she loved me the way she did
Nor why she put up with me

After these bouts with me
Jill, would have these Fights with her mother, Carla,
Claiming that it didn’t hurt…
Clearly lying
In pain
Both physically and spiritually

Carla wanted to help
But had long since given up
Trying to convince Jill that she made the wrong choice marrying me
She was just trying to console Jill as her life bellied up

Carla played the blame game
She ripped the house apart
From top to bottom
Pointing out everything that was wrong
! She had enough !
Jill had never been hurt so badly before
Yet, despite all her hard work,
Jill came back home
To find me drunk

The night I was arrested
I came home pissed about work
And I took it out on Jill
At first I was just yelling at her
But somehow I got violent
Jill got all upset
And called her mother crying
I freaked out and took off to the bar
Carla called the cops
One came by and took a report

I returned after the bar closed
And before she said to words
I laid right back into her

It was like I wasn’t me anymore

The cop knew I was coming back
And when they did their check
They heard the screaming
And they broke me off of her

No wonder,
Her mother was so agitated
I almost killed her daughter
Carla never understood why Jill ever took up me
Their family was one of those
Snooty, whose who
Big mansion at the end of the lake, families
She just knew that I was there for their money

When we first met
There was a time when we just made each other happy
We didn’t need anything else
But the more the drinking caught up with me
The worse things got

Jill stuck to her guns
And proclaimed that money didn’t make the man
Eventually, her mother had no choice left
But to let Jill meet her fate
She did everything else she could to stand in its gate
That must have been a sad day for her

Nothing meant so much to Jill
That, the children had a father
She would take all the beatings
If that’s what God had for his daughter
To Jill
Marriage was Holy Matrimony
Real, “Till death do we part.”
That’s why she stayed
And she also believed that one day I would pull out of it

But, I was growing worse
And I begun to lose heart
The will to live just wasn’t there
The drink gripped me and put a vice upon my soul
Then I fell ill
And still Jill waited on me with soup in bowl
Until the day I died due to my liver failing
And she mourned the weeping sun with great lament and wailing
Widowed, a young woman
With her honor held in tact
And she raised those children of ours
Whom had witnessed both ends of the track

Jill, was an amazing woman that I did not deserve
And if I had it all to take back, I would
She taught me the meaning of love
I just learned it too late…

Dear God,
If I would have only known then
What I know now
I would have been a better man…


Static Evolution


Static Evolution

Was begun to end

And no path will lend a single red cent

Save the path at the fore it was meant

Though at a point it will bend

Make loop and resend

Energy back to the place it began

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

Our karma set forth, what we doeth we must

We must or it kills us

But kill us it must

Because our time was spent exhausting the vent and thus


The lender that lent

The owner of debt

The blessing of breath

Has made an investment and expects what’s been spent

To flood in the scents of profits


Prophetically vised

The vision revised

Rewritten comprised

The sorted devised

The neatly surmised and categorized

Story apprized

With our demise

Was quite simply put…


A token

To all that which has been spoken

Now back at the fulcrum the balance of power was stolen

Less life to be lived than was told him

A promise unfilled with actions to build, and woven

Into every concern explosive

The tongue is a powerful weapon both curses and blessins creatin a mess in the mind and the body with soul in

Just no body knows it

Thought that road would be golden

But loath in the cold hearted notion

For holdin back the truth of emotion the channels now frozen and swollen

At some point in the life of a poet

A poet will find himself in a rut


Grown stagnant

Erase it from memory where times spent

A record…

A record…

A rec…


A record that’s scratched reliving a phrase it cannot see passed

Is the same as a writer whose taxed on his ass

Vexed on a topic

Acute microscopic

Translucent the answer

No power to stop it

The logic unsound it could be psychotic

Playing that record that record on scratch till I’ve got it

The feeling on top of is nearly narcotic

Searching through bones on optic atomic

Vibrations symphonic revealing the object as not to exist on the plan of R sight yet

Which, brings us full circle to the point where it’s chronic

An onslaught of dead ends that still, are not gone yet

But like a good writer

The depth of a subject is seen as a challenge to subvert and erect

It’s almost a precept to learn from the last set

Come to conclusions assimilate knowledge in the midst of the wreckage as record skips message these hopeless of questions fill in the vestige of poets intentions to finish the best writs yet life continues to push right on forth not waiting for us to make it all work


Now the “Garden of Eden” a mystical theme

And the “City Atlantis” to be sought and never seen,


But all that I mean is the reach is at hands width

Should I choose then I’ll have it

But somewhere we get lost thinkin our dreams are forsaken

And what cumbersome damage has surfaced and landed?

What troublesome stanzas have wrecked with this havoc?

Is that the left and the right are the faceless

And though they still hold the spaces in our brains should we take them when we know their unanimous inanimate ends are devoid of profitable options which leave a poet stuck lacking homeostasis

The basis, theses days and ages aren’t far from the places of ancient

The slave ship the whip the cage and these cases are no longer adjacent to these days at minimum wages


Can’t escape this tasteless pace of changeless changes  aimless pages written phrase missed biased ages waistin souls spent

And this waste is piled on shoulders pound hold up no where right to turn left

Can’t escape this spaceship

Know I don’t belong here



Dreams are fadin quick from traces to traceless chase this end to its endless ends……….



Myself there…

The unstoppable force, tunneling through the immovable object

And I thought to stop at, my forgotten prophets, reliving topics, from stethoscope to chest harmonics

The heart is

Of course the hardest instrument to tune and mimic but once it’s accomplished and accompliced with lyrics

A story unfolds and fades into focus

The laborious journey of a poet’s whose guns stick

On topic and sees it through to it’s finish

Because there is an end to the wastelands of a writer’s frustrations where those frustrations are exchanged for a days pick in the orchards of genius

Where all meanings are found

Statements are sound

And an era of quest is given some closure

As a linear thought is now known to be round

For it ends where it begins

And begins where it ends

An thus…

Is my…


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