Resist, resist, resist
How can I resist this?
How can I dismiss this resistance?
I am a dog
And I am looking directly at you
Because you're eating
And I want to eat too
I can smell the warm bread in your hands
The aroma of sweet meat between your teeth
I want it all for myself
Resistance.
I am a fog.
And I am hanging directly above you
I see you eating
And I want to eat you
You can smell the dampness in my folds
You can feel me tingling inside your nose
I will make you sick
With resistance.

Beyond The Trees

I am out past the borders

wandering in conviction

rustling up the fallen leaves

dusting off my fiction

Elsewhere is where I'll be

chemically living a dream

withdrawn from banks of memories

crossed out of actualities

The wind whispers secrets to me

truths for ears who'll listen

tells me there's a bending river

appropriate for wishing

Scarcity exist in the outer limits

conjured remnants of the city

however, beauty is all abundant

and forever always becoming

I Am Defender

Against the throws of war

I am the defender of my heart.

Poisoned arrows with sharpened tips

soar with accusations dripping down their silvery lips 

ready to puncture my every pride.

But I am the defender of my heart.

When lovers complete the idea of me 

with incomplete ideas of me, 

a hollow shell of my actuality 

is animated 

and mocks me like a cartooned parody.

I am the defender.

A patient heart is a determined heart,

not waiting, but patient. 

Indeed wading, patiently, through thick 

and sticky scores of sluts, tramps,

and hooligans, all waiting with bows and arrows in hand.

Here I stand, the shield, the man,

the only defender of my heart. 

The blade sheathed in me is sharp and quiet, 

can reduce a loose tongue to a 

removed one, and will pierce the ears of 

any fortunate enough to hear what truth I speak, 

or stab, for my blade runs deep.

And it must. Because in me, my soul has trust. 

I seek within, beyond the moths and rust, 

between the unsettled dust, 

beneath the copper crust. 

I am the defender.

When chicks play games and lick the names 

of the many men they've fucked and bent, 

I write the boards and bar my chords 

pressing ink to page while burning sage.

Needless to say, the nights are solitary 

in my home. 

I thrive by candle light, 

fire helps me write, 

the flame insist that much burns inside of me. 

The pain, the shame, the 

misery, all melt off like calories.

I exercise the defender in my heart.

I have friends in many places, some wear 

two, three, four, and five faces. 

Some are copy cats and rely on traces 

to shape their lives and like glass blown vases 

are full of hot air. 

Speak your peace or let your words rest peacefully, 

because only deeds can be 

resurrected successfully, 

and the groundsman gave the keys to me, 

I run the graveyard shift in to the early morning. 

Would you believe how many thoughts are buried in this cemetery? 

Six feet beneath actions, respectfully. 

Where is the love you ask? 

Well where do I start? Begin where it ends.

I am the defender of my heart. 

Bakersfield

I cut my face leaving this city

on the sharpest words I think I ever did speak

Now, I don't mind apologies all the time

But I swear I'll never, ever say I'm sorry

We caught a lucky break on Valentines Day

I bought a two way ticket and a hotel where we could stay

Meet me here in Bakersfield, halfway

We could settle down and talk the day away

With no self control,

no question why,

no giving up, 

no saying goodbye

no reason to ever stop

loving you

A stranger called on the telephone

it was a dirty prank played by a local boy

Nothing here interest me except you, my dear

So lets pack our bags and never come back again

But we made love late into the morning

I watched you changing in the mirror

The teddy bear I bought was tossed in the corner

We spilled some red wine and caught it on camera

With no self control

no question why,

no giving up,

no saying goodbye

no reason to ever stop

loving you

No letting go, 

no nights alone

no kiss and run,

except with tongue

no reason to ever stop

loving you

Lately

Text messages and miscommunication

Lonely days and lonely nights

Better connecting with self and cat

Behaving more like a stable individual

Thinking, thinking, thinking

Paying less attention, being more attentive

Participating in speaking

Better with women, better with friends

Managing time, money, inebriation

Focus getting stronger

Cultivating true independence

Listening to an old music

Doing what I want to do responsibly, respectfully

Exercising leadership skills

Shifting perspectives, perception

Pushing harder, reaching farther

Reading, writing, and reciting

Building capacities on stronger foundations

Thinking Out Loud

"Oh shit...."

I said to myself

as light from cars passing outside

danced across the office wall,

"...she's turning 27 this year..."

a quick personal pause

"..that's so....fucked!"

laughter burst out of me.

Ballpark Love

I could say dreams are curious, but are they really? I cannot recall a time that a dream has flirted any inquiry of me, it is only me that inquires into my dreams, or so it seems. What if we never spoke of dreams and regarded them as an off-shoot of memories? "What was it I was thinking?" Dreams are portals; step into the fissure and feel yourself carbonate. Bubbles rushing through your toes up and out of your nose. You're in deep, dark, thick, sleep. 

So, last night in my dream she was sitting next to me. We were at a ball game of some sort. It felt like baseball, but smelled like football. I sat with her and her girlfriend. The two were laughing and joking at topics easily ignored by a man. She sat next to me, plainly gorgeous, light, and womanly. She is a woman. And here in this stadium, immensely packed with blurred apparitions of people, she was my girl. I wasn't mad at her, but a little annoyed - much like my actual attitude towards her in my waking life. However, annoyed as I was, I was playful and caring, though hardened and quiet. She sat on my left, her hair in a bun, a black tank-top clung to her chest, and jeans that I did not see. A comfortable halt in her girly conversation and she turned to me, finally. Cracking a smile she sarcastically complimented me, "Ohhhh, look at those veiny arms of yours..."she joked, but meant it seriously. My arm outstretched, veins and all, responded immediately to the call. Annoyed, I was, but still in love. Her words still push, prod, and shove like they always have. She tried to turn, but I caught her in my gaze and stared at her as if in a daze. My face was cut as sharp as stone, and in that moment, we sat alone. Isolated in a crowded space, focused on my lover. 

And as I awoke the stadium went black, a heavy vignette shrouded my dream-girl and she was gone. I tossed in my bed from one side to the other, grasping frantically at a pillow, shoving it between my legs. It was early, too early to get up. I laid my head down and thought about that mystery until the waves of sleep carried me again into the sea. 

Bull

Don't take their bullshit.

Tell them right then and there

"No, you're wrong."

Tell 'em they're out of line

and need to get back in.

Tell 'em "No, you can have my time some other time."

Set your own schedule.

Be the hands on your own clock.

You're not here to only fill space,

you're here to create and manage space.

Do talk about it with your friends.

Don't do what you're friends are doing,

but learn from their actions how to

better shape your own.

Cause you're friends are fuck ups

and frankly, so are you.

So, don't take the bullshit.

Be the fucking Bull.

Mantra

I appreciate the body

I appreciate the mind

I appreciate the soul

and I appreciate time

Highway

Pouring down the dark highway

just moments before the coming dawn

softening up my waking senses

raising Cain inside my skull

freaked out on a glowing highway

absorbed in the neon lights

pink and green intoxicate me

raucous laughter and muddled behavior

indistinct and inebriated

glazed and high, you know it ain't nothing

compotation on carousals

lit and lush, now I want something

on a trip of sent consumption

tumultuous and turbulent

dry and flaky on the inside

sobering up like a wet sponge in the Sun

pictures of her under the table

plastered on the bathroom wall

all my memories come on doubled

I am steeped in nostalgic behavior

intemperate and rebellious

baked and bombed, I'm all night long

enraptured and exhilarated

tanked and fried, got my hands tied

If it's all a dream

I'm ending it now

It's a break in the clouds

hard light shining down

There's a tear in my eye

from sinus congestion

am I dead or alive?

Well, that's the question..

Slipping out of that saturation

She's the rhythm, she's the sound

I desire no separation

So I dig in deep and make my girl proud

I can't touch her, but I can feel

her sine waves are oscillating

wired to my instrument

my tool, my love, I'm never leaving

Twenty-First Century

Life can be so scary

especially when you know you're gonna die

wake up and work for hours

at a place you hate, and you're left wondering why

Life can be so stupid

when all the tables turn against you

been building this machine for ages

now it wont work, no matter what you do

My friends are changing

they're folding in on themselves

My family is aging

My memories are fading away

And I just want to be

I just want to be

I just want to be a loose screw

There's no need to be

no need to be

no need to be attached to the rules

Life can be so boring

just nine to five, five and nine, and nine to five again

I don't sleep

No time to dream

I wake up in the middle of the night and scream

I don't eat

I don't drink

I don't think about much

I just look around for the next available do-hah

Is it a problem

Or is it a solution?

I got problems

I need a revolution

Twenty-First Century

Twenty-One centipedes

The coins for your laundry and you

are the same thing

Rerun

He's a B-flat whole tone scale kind of guy

who wouldn't know it lest he tried

Never really touched the keys with feeling

until he pressed them next to me

He picked a grand D5 out of the list

A flabby kick, a tight snare, and ride

sequenced them with clever whim

laughing at this silly song

A few suggestions here and there like

subract the sounds as they rerun

shape the length of the pattern clip

and remember to press the song button

Flew the coop, leaving the nest behind

Sped up across the twenty-four

heard the call of our stomachs growl

Seeking provisions wrapped in flour

Tiny Beast

It's not easy

but don't forget about it

just put it down

try again another lifetime

ages pass

the children get older

the new age

old propaganda

She's not tame

not like the other ones

a tiny beast

tramps on a small frame

I walked out

and slammed the door behind me

I stamped away

And shook the whole street

Larry

It's not so obvious

it's hidden in your eyes

not quite a blanket

but foggy and white

You run from spiders

they chase you in your dreams

some nights you're falling

in and out of sleep

Don't ask your Mama

what the B-word means

She'll drag your confidence

quickly across your cheeks

Small Treasures

With no pretence,
or formentioning,
only a smile like hers
could tear through a crowd.

Was I
blinded by the trail of lights,
deafened at the sound?
I was.

My eyes were not my own
drifting ever astray.
beauty gazed at me,
kisses flew from her lips.

Was I
numb to the rhythm,
intoxicated at the scent?
I was.

Perhaps I had it wrong,
could I be the one?
Almost naked in her stare
falling fast to no where.

Were there
little treasures in the air,
crystallizing on the tip of my tongue?
There were.

I'm fighting the evening ritual at the beginning of the day. Spent all night upright without muttering a word. Watched the gears turn the horizons wheels. Jolted my head back and forth in between realities. Saw a man sketching, speaking so little, about nothing with a woman, they had few areas in common. The hair next to me grew thicker by the minute, and much more quiet at every passing hour, I dared not bother her. Saw not my reflection, but reflected on the weekend. Sure, my mind is strong, but is my body weakend? Spoke too many words faster than I could think and, tripped through sentances, stopping to repeat them. Rode into the dawn with my wrist tied in palms. Listened to Joni Mitchell sing like preached psalms. Saturday and Sunday called for more lip balm. Or chap stick for chapped lips, like chop sticks for Asian kids. Thought about conversations the way water seeps into bread. I got soaked up and saturated in my own head. Somehow made due upright in my wicked bed. A loud horn woke me and scared me half to death. And half dead I wandered the chambers of my personal void. I chased down a melody and when I found it struck a chord. The notes shuttered as they rang and stole the clothes off my back. When my body dropped its guard my soul picked up the slack. I was a groovey piece of melon, dripping sweetly across cement. A blue birds worst nightmare, a white crows lament.

Oscillovers

I think about how I saw her on the grass that night,
how she glowed in the dark,
and how she captured me when our eyes met.
We were like magnets,
bouncing off of each others positives.
And when we  spoke,
sharing nervous laughs and subtle gestures of curious nature,
I already knew.

she thinks he's charming
the way he talks about his life
and how he works so dedicated

I talk above them
letting my voice fall
You are in the sound

Reach

I sent off on a leaf
escaping the reach of my branch
drifting further from my tree
hoping to grace you
allowing the ends of my rigid veins
to trace you
your soft cheeks reside inside of me
and are deeply rooted
hidden, protected

Big Sur Pt. 1 - Arrival

Big Sur last weekend. Camped by the beach. Woke up to, and slumbered against, an infinite deep blue backdrop, crusted by a sharp and bold cliff side. Toward the North, a magnificent blade of hard Earth curved along the coast, and protruded outward toward the Sea. The East mountains, wise as ever, rested low, and climbed into the heavens, piercing the occasional thick white fog that solicited the shallow skies. The road vanished behind the campsites Southern grassy knolls. The marathon bicyclist and sports car fanatics were not shy to scurry by and by. The West was watery and delightfully wicked. In the morning, the Sea and her mate, the Sky, kept us warm beneath a thick blanket of cotton-like clouds. None would wake up to the busy Sun, for to do so would be to exist elsewhere, something I cared not for.

We arrived later than anticipated, around eleven a.m., and were excited to find an available camp space. At first, we were confident that all spaces had been seized, but after speaking with the Camp Official, we were reassured that there were two plots to our avail, and we hurried to occupy the first one we could find. The site was very close to the road, at first I was concerned by this, being that the road was immediately behind our camp space, and that we could see and hear cars passing by at all times of the day. My second concern was with the overall proximity of the camp spaces, our neighbors were very close and in plain sight! I thought this an obstacle for the expected mid-day and late night debauchery. None-the-less, we unpacked our tents and bags, and immediately began our tiny colony.

It was a popular location, and for good reason.The site, which boast about twenty-or-more camp spaces, was perfectly adjacent to the incredible ocean, which could be seen from any of the spaces. There were, however, better views of the ocean, certain spaces offered a more intimate setting, and would prove ideal for enjoying an uninterupted sunset from ones camp with ease. Ours however, was perfect for us. We picked a nice grassy spot, that had more space for leisure than any other site I observed. And our neighbors were as young and crazy as we, however, not nearly as mean and certainly not as cynical; we are a crude bunch, like a bowl colorful sour grapes, but also playful and nourishing.

The local wildlife made themselves known. Cheerful creatures of different sorts scampered around in the dirt, or grass. Black birds, blue-jays, robins, and other sorts would flutter by and grace us, often lurking nearby, hopping along, searching and waiting for discarded foods. Shaggy-tailed squirrels praced around the cars and BBQ pits with playful expression. A small hare chewed grass near the neighbors car. There were few insects, none that were bothersome, not even one timid mosquito.

 Once all was set up, we cooked, ate, smoked, and drank our way into a pleasant existence. We were well equipped with food, snacks, beers, and strange medications. I enjoyed a Corona and a smoke before retiring early to the tent for a mid-day nap.