some beach scratchings

This past weekend, we packed up the Outlander and headed northeast to King’s Lynn for a little camping excursion. The first one of the season. I know it’s late, but heck with the earlier weather not being the best and then vacation time in Fuerteventura, well the days and weeks fly by and before you know it’s mid-July before you’re …

ignorance

can be yourself don’t bottle up the body, keep it open. when all self-identifications remain get rid of god. no self-definition, i am energy and bring nothing reality here, can i demand nothing when you want nothing, seek nothing expect nothing unexpected! a man engrossed prescribed by his scriptures will get wrapped up in them so many saints words may …

shaking his shake like

I finally finished Jack Kerouac’s Book of Sketches. The story goes that in 1951, Jack’s friend Ed White encouraged him to do like painters do and make sketches in the street but with words instead of paint. And so Kerouac did. He began writing down prose poem “sketches” in the small notebooks he kept in his shirt pocket. For two …

god be sitting on a fence

god be sitting on a fence up the road i saw him peering at the traffic passing by then he wandered over to the tobacco shop said something to the barelegged boy leaning on the countertop adjusted his spandex shorts and left

darkness

“Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.”

no glory

so i lay there playing with splinters in the late red afternoon the angels of paradise hidden in the mystery of my days leaning on warm wings sang to me sticks lie broken dead leaves gather dust i am homesick here in the ashes all i wanted was glory found only strange sadness instead

night’s leaves

on a pristine october afternoon i applied for a job begging at the ports all for the sake of feeling my way against the ghost of your truth my lies limed and loaded flowed easy riding the night’s last flicker of hope i was young i tried to capture you with rhymes and exotic suggestions touching myself pretending to be …

rapture

on the radio the buzzing world whistling blowers moan the clack of balls clicking so well straining a high thin monkey woman begging for rapture

ant-people, something has happened – the remix

Best experienced through headphones…  ant-people, something has happened that’s made me question the nature of my reality, a thread to follow… the point of intersection between the human mind and suppression. i don’t think you will ever see me again. i achieved what i was incapable of. the time wave, i sent it. the strong rule the weak and …

It’s not the big that matters

The blogging game has changed so much since I first started blogging back in 2003. Blogging these days has been relegated to the content marketing game where folks are pimping their wears trying to position themselves as thought leaders in the hopes that they can either become social media influencers or marketers disguised as “passionate” experts in something. As Tom …

work and play

A master in the art of living draws no sharp distinction between his work and his play; his labor and his leisure; his mind and his body; his education and his recreation. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence through whatever he is doing, and leaves others to determine whether he is working or playing. To himself, he always appears to be doing both.

before the beginning

in the moment she answered formless in-between states of grief shadows dancing underneath her eyes she did not recognise me darkness dull and desperate before the beginning began i caught myself staring like a chimp caught humping another chimp, never would i be better imitating the ways of the master not to create but to destroy the beat of her …

vapour and dust

and then it made sense to me i stood witlessly fumbling the key to endless happiness she sat on the bed with her hands clenched, ‘i will help you hold the hatred, spread it over the fields black and foul and what will you do for me?’ i will give you another life layered in gauze and honey, burning in …

the pulse of 3am hits me

I have to quit being anonymous inside the machine…artificial space in a dreamlike dimension…the pulse of 3am hits me inside the unconscious sea…a voyage below…subway empty…closing haunted spaces…this lack of a beginning divides me in the light under the flare of a system flooded by the black sun…time interval of an astronaut something stirs in the underground…52 eyes decomposing in …

friday soon rolls around (oh and playlist POW0406)

Friday soon rolls around. I actually have to put on a tie today, which is not my normal Friday (if there is such a thing). The machine needs me and so I answer the call. Last night was painful, but i think the loop may have passed now – i’m on the other side – next step sense checking and …