Am I going to find a home when I turn the corner?

Am I going to find a family when I open the door?

My flaws are still present, are part of my personality,

ingrained in my make up but not an abnormality.

What’s normal, anyways? We make this up everyday.

I’m perfect, you’re not, is that how it should be?

Should we all wear a  label and then we’d agree?

This reality called life needs some rearranging, maybe we’d see

it’s our thoughts that really need changing.

Like a mythological monster, a story from the past,

carried too far the memory becomes recast.

To one that is far worse, legends become dark and diverse,

Yet, began a story, remember, a tale of yore. Now men teach it to children

in times of war.

Where’s my home when I turn the corner?

It’s gone with all the rhetoric.

It’s gone with the vitriol.

My family is divided, a civil war in the making.

Leave, if you may, alone I will be overtaking!

Past was filled with memories of battles fought exclusively.

Now they can be done foolishly or brutally!

You decide, since it’s your game to play.

Forewarned, my friend, you’ve now become my prey.



I don’t feel too bad today. It’s a good day to count my blessings, good expressing that all might not be well but what the Hell, it really doesn’t matter, it’s life or death that’ll grab you yeah…hot one, feel the sweat upon your face but a breeze’s still blowing and I’m left knowing what matters anyways. This time this place, here and now, cataclysmic entity, the up and down. Alcohol’s flowing while the world still spins, for all I know, we’re still friends till the end. Ice and mind melting in the heat of the day but your kind word unleashes and we all fly away. We all are one, time never stops, infinite limitless, deeper than the moral’s of Aesop. I’ll be seeing you, my friend, more times than not. On this hotter than hot summer day of THOUGHT.

The Burdens we Must Share

I carry the same baggage that my children must in turn bear. Nothing in life, from birth to death is fair. I understand now the pain they shed but hearing it is something I mostly dred. I caused them pain, inexplicably, but not maliciously. Tell that to a child…even when they’re grown. I understand cause it was done to me. Pass down the sin through the generation, when will it stop? When will it be forgotten? I can hate myself for all it’s worth, doesn’t change a thing. Drink myself to an early grave, nothing makes the pain go away. Generational baggage carried through the ages, tear away at my memories, the time still rages.
Restitution, apologies, grave-side analogies we’re still one in the same it was always just a game and we were just insane. One day you’ll awaken, as I did and your eyes will see the truth of life as it lies naked before you. Nothing is as it appears before YOU, only the memory you perceive to be, the importance you perceive to be, all other will no longer perceive to be. I am just a memory that you perceive to be evil, or nice, deceptive or helpful. I fill whatever void you need filled and nothing more. It can be sad to realize this or it can be no emotion at all. Like reading a good book that doesn’t end the way you want it to, it can still be a good book, no?


The one thing I like about my blog, unlike Facebook, is I can say whatever I want without a bunch of lurkers hanging around. Here, I don’t care whether anyone thinks Im being proper, or politically correct, or whatever. I just don’t care anymore. I can write my crazy “poetry”, rants, thoughts of the day, or anything and if you or no one reads it, it doesn’t matter. That is ultimate freedom.

So, more of my drunken ravings…

Radioactive, entertainment industry is what’s going out tonight. Can I rely on a normal conversation or will this be an an interrogation? Always asking me what I’m thinking but not accepting the answers that I offer. Losing my mind, my thoughts, my feelings whether what I say will be accepted or not. I am not what you think I am. I am not the revolutionary one nor the way you planned. You thought I was one way but turned out another, ripped out my brainstem turned it over, made it smother. All the same to you, whether I live or die. LIFE keeps ticking on, moment by moment, till I lose it all, the hours are numbered for me. My brain is aching with the suffering of those who’ve died. I can’t take this much longer, nor should I. Let’s end it together.


Night falls, blues emanate from the corner. My kind of music. Gut wrenching, hip churning blues that can ignite a fire as well as drown one in tears. I’ve been drinking to loosen my mind, roll to the beat, and silence the demon that runs rampant in my mind. I’d like nothing more than to do this for hours. Foot slamming, undulating, conversating/singing with my audience of one is all I need to get truly high. The world can go on talking about one crisis after another, but what is the point of their information? Is it truly fact or sensationalized spin to keep you pinned to their objective? It’s all coming to an end, says one talking head to another. I’ve been listening to this since the days of the Cold War. Duck and cover, HA! I’m going to live my life like everyone’s my friend because I refuse to live in fear. It’s been a long time! “Together we stand, divided we fall”.

Angels in the Garden

Today is a day among others that are created to caress you in an illusion of existence. No truth in believing nor disbelieving, only an illusion that permeates your soul like mist in a forest. Will your next breath be your last? It will matter not yet, only to the living who remain.
Angels appeared in the garden dressed in their business attire during dark days of September. America mourned as if it were their first. Wave the stripes of liberty like you care though you know not why. Shoot your brother down from the sky, listen to their cries. Fill your heart with hate and rage, you know not why. Stomp the graves, dessicate the dead, you know not why. Angels in the garden, but you won’t listen to reason….WHY!!? All for the dried ink of man’s little books, one saying its right, so another should die. You’re all indifferent to life, as long as you’re right, light the fuse, twist the knife. Little books filled with ink now filled with the blood of man. Splattered from the right to the left, cross the continents till it’s a party of the ages. Ignorance pervades from one generation to next till the fire extinguishes itself. Angels in the garden can lead you to reason. Listen, realize that death doesn’t exist. Only a transformation of energy to a higher form. One that doesn’t rely on self-destruction, a true form of bliss. A real heaven. Listen to the others that have experienced a higher glory. Your brothers on high are still your neighbor. Read between the lines splattered across the pages, angels in the garden are not your saviors. Open your heart, realize, your true life labor. Hold my hand, we’ll walk together for I’ve seen it all. The darkness of September and the angels’ calls, death doesn’t exist just a continuance of all. Let’s walk through the garden; nothing to fear at all.


The best thing about not needing anyone is you free yourself from any expectations that another person needs to act a certain way to fulfill a desire you have. You accept them as they are. Now, the truly freeing experience of this realization is that since you need no person, you can rid yourself of all the old toxic people that still cling to you because they are “friends”, “family”, “well-meaning advice givers”, etc. You do yourself best by filling your world with others that see life as you also see it. This is not to say you do not challenge yourself but you do not compromise your morals if that is what is important to you. I have learned very, very few share my morals and understand the gravity of their importance as I get older. I would rather tighten my circle or be alone. At least I have never betrayed myself. Or have I ?