Carving your cause for the right kind of action...

Peace and quiet is a resounding sound amidst the pounding beats of truth and freedom screaming off the walls along halls of history… halls of mirror mystery… So step up or kick back to a new kind of consciousness, a kind that won’t cause me to get nauseous or slightly precautious about doing the things, that come from within and sing me to a new place of grace, that harmonious space of truthful loving oblivion...

Smokey Kew Gardens

Like I've known him before...
A man with wisdom for more...
Eyes shot and lined a deep red...
With a haze about his head:

"It ain't what it ain't... It ain't what it ain't.
It is what it is... It is what it is."

Renew

A willful handful of risk taking – journey making,

Adventuring but not mistaking…

Yourself for someone else,

Always maintaining the you that you knew,

Have always known, when alone…

A well rounded, well founded follow-through…

Getting grounded. What can I say…? It’s true.

...the memory of a bruise...

Unfounded amount of difference when celebrating now but something must come from where I am – otherwise – otherwise… There seems to be a hopeless restraint about what’s coming… And where we’re going to... me and myself – and we together in wherever we might find a state of mind to unravel our time.

What I’m hoping to find out is a limited amount of long hair to get lost in – A freedom found in nature – A reveling relevance to revere for momentary pleasure comes and goes – comes and then goes on and on among secret eyes… A new discovery – An unexpected surprise – but back to others…

A focus for the purpose outside my own place – A want of sympathy and empathy for they that also want… And I recognize a unity among those desperate for union.

I am amidst – I am riding the split – A legit logic that provides for paranoia as an equal equation to those with a free and social satisfied conscience – those easy to bed and early to rise – And reprise another day of beautiful assembly…

A day to day trade providing sufficient means.

And on and on and on top of a hill with a path that leads past the present – a speeding bullet of sweet serenity – Words with absurd abstraction blocking efficient action of unlimited creativity – Ahead of oneself – Bleeding blueberries for the memory of a bruise – That wine coloured tint of a time when we romantically forgot forever and lived for whenever – Lived at the mercy of our impulses…

Renew and Reinvent

Broken break – inhalation of scattered and speckled smoke, a respiratory fake – tired but not to take… time to acknowledge the purposeful mistake, a firm grasp, a solid shake – terrific timing, while nursery rhyming and soon to be awoken – A sharp jab of reality, blue-collared bliss, joe-job justice – A wondrous and mysterious kiss – off when choosing to un-cloth the artist's garments for the working man’s armaments…

Strong and Wrong

A mysterious but welcomed encounter…

Foreign in language but a comfortable reflection,

– Lined and poised:

Distant but immediate and present noise beats towards something,

Something from Nothing –

A triad built for two, just me and you… But

A bland beginning usually smells of mothballs,

If even only in the distance...

A subtle incense and social armor, a luxurious charmer –

A brilliant supreme ultimate relevance, if only for the moment.

A token saying – a beautiful phrase,

Built up momentum of poetic haze…

A Baby Born in Brooklyn

Wondrous and wilful – stopped with a pillful –

And brought down to see yourself making movies…

Making mayhem – Forward thinking…

Backdraft drinking – Last and Lingering –

And Everything – Yes!

Everything is your last chance to chime in and bring you to a place to believe again… Corrugated dinning – rough trying to build yourself up – To be my buttercup – Enough of this artsy – shut-up.

Time to sing of more – what are you waiting for…

...A dramatic pause or poise…

Sex is easy to write about when you’re trying to spout a piece of unknown truth – build from the roots – Unravel the laces on your boots – It’s enough to see true to you and then decide… And then decide – On where we’ll take our ride. It’s not a question of pride… I wish for more than what I’ve seen – An infinite number of Ice Cream Flavoooouuurs – You’re the one looking for sweet favours…

I’m trying to break through to get through to you – See anew…

But enough again to the power of 10 – This “ew” rhymes…

–Innumerous couplets –

I’ve had enough of it. To get off again – to find within…

All the last moments of what we started with –

True to you – Not just see through –

Un-glue this thing that has to do with you...

The same but different...

Glimpse

Graceful gaiety – charm and beauty a plenty – lost lovingly… lingering and lolly-gagging. The assistant’s encouragement, sophisticated tale wagging, shadow shine, wishful thinking that you’re mine for all time – A sublime and truthful play – An intriguing stay – throw in a polite ”may” along with a well used “they”… And Everything’s EH Okay…

draft / note #29...

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A graceful orchestration of detailed non-sequiturs,
Maintaining the great potential of life’s depth,
Set to a rapid harmonic rhythm.
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Once On Broadway

Once on Broadway, I shared a private elevator with horror and suspense-fiction novelist Stephen King. It was the kind of elevator that required a special key, made in the shape of a credit card, to be swiped past a sensor where you would then select your floor. There were a few of us in the elevator but Stephen and I were closest to the buttons… I don’t know why but it was really fun to get to be the guy who swipes the card – some sort of elevator man role playing / I’ve got the power to the buttons guy-thing, you know... it's fun to be the one to make the machine work.

I remember, as we funnelled into the elevator, I began digging into my pocket for the card. When suddenly, I caught Stephen out of the corner of my eye, catching me out of the corner of his eye doing the very same thing… it was on! Passionately we searched the depths of our pockets and with a competitive fervour he produced his card first accompanied by a peculiar victory grin, I wouldn’t let this discourage me – I was, after all, closer to the sensor.

Now some people might not know this but Stephen King is actually a pretty large man and I realized that my advantage came with the fact that you had to swipe low for the sensor. As he moved forward for the victory swipe, something came over me… perhaps it was his size that reminded me of my many years of basketball or perhaps it was that know-it-all-best-selling victory grin – and I swore I could have heard him give me a little celebration grunt – but at the very moment he moved in for the swipe and push… I decided to box him out and keep digging for my card. I’m serious and this was not some junior high – hope I get the rebound scenario… I was givin him the full Dennis Rodman and you’d think a man at 60+ might back down, but the elevator victory swipe was bigger than both of us.

I chimed in with a grunt of my own, taunting him… a husky hum of “bring it on”. He returned with his own grunt, a kind of “you want some of this!”. And just as my right hand found the card deep in my lower cargo pocket and I knew victory would be mine, King went full extension over my left shoulder to make the swipe. I’ll be honest, it was an ugly win, King isn’t the most graceful swan in the pond… but champions aren’t afraid to get dirty.

I had to give it to him; he fought hard and once the battle had subsided there seemed to be a mixture of surprise and good humour in the elevator amongst the other passengers. His floor came first and as the doors flung open he turned and wished me well: “Take care!” he said, I happily responded “I’ll get cha next time!” A few of his entourage that followed behind giggled as they heard my pointed words. Thinking back, I wish had said something a little more profound, quoted one of his great lines like…. “Get busy livin or get busy dyin” …but I didn’t. Oh well, he’s probably heard that shit a million times anyway.

Begin Again...

Like minded individuals – saving up residuals for purposeful creation. Not one single moment of impulse hesitation – A naked nation, afraid of dream devastation – similar too long vowels as extended mastication, a public literary masturbation… A complete professional negation – No more gesticulating and pontificating the night into oblivion – An infinite meridian… Helpful hesitance and playful reticence to begin again,

To begin again…

Disorderly Distractions

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Colors and impressions, the stirring of the subsided – those ferocious feelings funneled elsewhere until an unexpected moment reveals their tether thread-like ties to the sun… To the light… An illumination and inspiration of a fresh new soul… but I’m still in the grime, scouring the streets – brewing my build… and that requires a sensual solitude in the pursuit of all ends, as I see fit… which may, on occasion, require days with the devil. Days to decipher my demons, in the company of courageous companions willing to spur me on… I am here… I am poised… with my own private insatiability wound up and gracefully held by the reins of my will.
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A Diamond In The Rough

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Brilliantly bruised – tattooed and amused…

Politely excused for another reason,

Other than unusual weather for the season.

A crafty cook – A partially dusted book –

Stolen new from the lost …And found...

Tired from traveling to your downtown place of work –

Unlimited amounts of potential paths, infinitely clean baths,

No violent wrath… except paid for purposeful bouts

For extraordinary amounts

Of time…

And training

When lost

Maintaining.
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The Fairytale Fringe

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Red ass and red lips, the seasonal sensation,

Everything gets washed in my manifestation.

An orchestrated fantasy: A trip towards the past…

My childhood fancy – Nothing but a blast –

Rules and restrictions broken in good will…

Mischievous make believe my satiating fill.

…Until the end of the day…

And that wondrous exhaustion,

A wonderful place to get lost in…
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A Fire In My Belly

I get romantic about the struggle – There are times when the inhumanity of it all reaches deafening heights. Your billion dollar CEOs rushing past that vagabond who’s been hit by a car and lies bleeding in the street, while 8 different people offer you “smoke” in the park, where dogs play and Filipina Nannies push new born babes past a heap of late 90’s computer hardware. Amidst the honking horns and screeching tires… a Juilliard music grad plays for change outside a subway stop and along the fenced-in basketball court one of the last icons of the East Village art scene prepares another Mosaic for a lamp post, before falling asleep on the street with an empty stomach and his homeless dog. For me, it’s the proximity of these extraordinary events, taking place simultaneously just a few steps away from one another. The competitive spirit and aggressive nature… and yet the grandeur, grace, culture and diversity. One might think to exist in such a grotesque circus of civilization you’d need push the limits of your own morality. Monstrous temptations abound. However, it seems to me there is a certain acceptance that is required, in order to continue. One must embrace the madness. I am truly divided down to my core in this place. What I am… where my interests lie… what I believe… It is a glorious challenge... A supreme effort is required… I must look the beautiful disasters dead in the face. It is at times striking and hideous. But… my soul begins to grab hold of a new kind of strength. There’s a fire in my belly… I am growing.

Segue

"I rather boringly try to think through the details of my life
as if it mattered"
- Wallace Shawn -