Where are the revolutionaries?

Where are the revolutionaries?
Where is that movement that happens with every generation?

Where is the fire?

Vapid and apathetic Emo scream.

Is this the best you can do?

As your future and rights melt away before your dark eyeliner eyes.

What has happened to this generation?

Why are they so quite?

As things become worse, don’t they know about the 60’s?

They stare and drool into their MTV mastabatory lives.

Buying and buying, taking and taking spending and spending.

Becoming the flock
That has no history.

They sit back and wine and nod their pretty pho hawk heads.

And reply with a straight face and a vapid stare.

“Well, What am I supposed to do?”

As we all sit back and watch it burn to fuckin ground.

Mr. Mrs. Everyday

Where did the rosy suburban dreams of cul-de-sac nightmares go?

As one by one every home is taken by the banks.

Broken dreams living in a plastic world;
Thinking like sheep;

Trying to buy into it all,
Being kicked out on your ass

Don’t look back.

Don’t you cry!
Don’t you dare cry.

As the walls come tumbling down;

As the bricks, the mortar, the glass, the paint the fuckin dirt all look back at you.

And scream until you shatter.

What now Mr. and Mrs. everyday for the everything?

Into You

Everyday I walk past myself
Falling from lost leaves that scatter
Scatter across my soul

A forgotten match that strikes forth to you

Sudden to a sweet red kiss
Thrashing through the doves

Bound by sheets through sheer in and out of wet time

And earning that last deep and deadly kiss

Escaping into you

Backwards American

I’m a backwards American
What does it mean when those who shun the desolate meaning of torture
Look away brushing the lint off their dark blue suites
I’m a backwards American
Living within a glory that has no sun
A fading light that falls across the eyes of children
A fading light that falls with every solider falling onto the hot red earth
Hot red earth

Looking for that day
Our daily bread
Washing away the hate and the lies
Open your mouths and take the wafer
Washing it down
Washing it down
With bile

I’m a backwards American
Watching everyday
As behind closed doors
Behind red oak doors

Words with a smile
A dark black smile

As the crow flies over our heads

As the winds blow through our hair

As a baby is born

As we die

As we make love

As we drink from the cup

As we end

Not understanding why

Fascism is a feeling

Don’t stick to the arid dreams of decay
Thinking about your nostradamus nightmare lie
Who become the factors of our own demise?
Setting fourth a reality all to common to the bible,
How then walking up and down skidrow
How then walking through the streets of New Orleans
White trailer city under the thoughts of the forgotten
In a refuse society of the have knot’s
Fascism is a feeling
It’s like a virus
It pours into your rectum
Spreading out like fingers through your insides
It devours your sense of reason
The unknowable
You just start to believe.
Your function as a body
As a heart
As a brain
Soon starts to blacken and decay
So when the battle cries sound
You come around and lend the shell of what you once were
Over to what you have become
And then when you sit
Across from concentration camp 1,2 and 3
You lean up against a wall
And cry for the now
And for the should haves

Poker Night

The cigarette smoke rises above the poker table
3 am
Open sores and open wallets
A puddle of money
Washing the floors
With greed and hunger
Every hand is breath
Every tick, tock, tick
Of the clock gives soundtrack to the night
With hangdog eyes
And keen sense
The players wipe the small crystaline beads of sweat from their brows
4 am
The night moves forward like a slug leaving it’s long wet and slipper trail
I look up to my father as I hold the groceries in small brown paper bag
A carton of eggs, milk, chocolate chip cookies, toilet paper and some turkey meat.
I tug on his shirt like any 9 year old would

“Dad” I whisper.

“Mom is going to worry.”

He shoos me away taking another puff of his desire.
Never taking his eyes off the table.

Self

I’m not your blanket of the absolute
I’m not your falling feigned heart
I’m the coward the pity
I’m the masturbated
Fantasy of a broken dream

Over and over
Craving the day
When the tough comes easy
And the easy tough

8th and Spring hard sunny winter day
No rain of inspiration or rain to cleanse the air
Somebody got shot today.
Somebody lost there everyday

Walking through a Murakami world

Trying to see my true self in the mirror today.

i dream

I dream of the day when stormy tears dissinagreate like sand.
When the hope of the poor inspire the change
The cardinal eye of justified hope
Bleeds through the thoughts of broken hands destroyed by the hammer of deceit.
A Japanese whisper
A mountain of despair
The road along the highway swallowed up all those many more
Raping the posterior question of desire
And honoring the hangnail bloody stump of society
Gives me a fuckin headache

Don’t sit and honor the wicked
Don’t feed them from the bile within.
Strap up your pride
Take control of your acid reflux of regurgitated lies.

How is it

How is it that we sit back and watch it all crumble away?
How is it that the dream is turning into a nightmare?
How is it that people still hang nooses from trees?
How is it that black, brown, Asian young kids kill each other in the streets?
How is it when the hot needle enters our vein for the 19th or 20th time we expect that?

How is it that the suites in the house of white pontificate for education and healthcare but in the end care very little about helping except for their wallets.
How will it be when the walls come tumbling down?
What will it sound like?
What will the people say?
Will they take to the streets and cheer?
Or will they cannibalize themselves?

We’re all founders of our past and destroyers of our destiny?

Can we change?

Causality

Its days like this that make me want to scream.
Scream so loud that I cry blood.
Sitting thru the 9 to 5 drill.
Falling
Naked
Zombie
Drool
Blistering, backwards, bludgeoned day
I’m not about to go home today.

I’m causality in my 9 to 5.

I’m fighting to keep sane.
I’m wishing we would have some rain.
I’m trying not to listen to the news.
It’s all a bunch of lies that buzz around my brain like big fat deer flies.

I’m a causality in my 9 to 5.

Humanity can’t take it anymore.

They run through the streets and hit strangers with bats.
Right on the back of the skull.
Splitting them open all over the fuckin floor.

I heard that today.
On the news.

I’m causality in my 9 to 5.

I’m not so different from you.

I like to drink, curse and screw.

The problem is.

You think you’re so different.

One day the Sky Went Black

One day the sky went black.
One day my days went still.
One day my love was ill.
One day the sky went black.

Sitting on some thorns.
The thorns of my life.
I fell to hell
On an old twisted slide

Old twisted slide.
Old twisted slide.

One day the sky went black.
Went black.

I was sitting face to face with the devil himself.

With the devil himself.

He was sitting on a thrown made of souls
Sitting on a thrown made of souls.

He pointed at my soul and tempted me to hell.
Told me I was doomed.
Told me I was doomed.

So I tipped my hat.
And gave a smile.

For a deal I would make.
For a deal I shall seal.

I knew I could make this good.
I knew I could roll the dice for this precious price.

So a deal I made.
So a deal I sealed.

And so sealed the salted deal with blood.
And so I sealed the salted deal with blood.
With blood.

One day the sky went black.
One day my days went still
One day my love was ill.
One day I made deal with the devil on a full moon night.

One day I made a deal with the devil on a full moon night.

Full moon night.

Don't Look at me

Don’t look at me;
Don’t judge me;
Just except me the way I am;
You say you love me;
You say you belive in me;
Well do you really see me;
Do you really smell me;
What is it like to love me?

I’m a stranger in a kafka nightmare;
I’m a philosopher spitting my venom to the pigs;
I watch as the city decays around me;

Don’t look at me;
Stop staring;
What do you want from me?

I’m foul and dirty;
I live in box on 3rd and Slauson;
You don’t want to know me;
Really babe I’m bad news;

I’m not the one for you;
I’m not the one you want;

I think civil disobedience is a ballet an art;

I think religion is a joke with no punch line.

My skin is wrinkled and old;
My hair is falling out onto the floor;

Don’t look at me that way;

What was that?
What did you say?
Are you serious?

You want to get married?

I'm Gonna have a beer

And so then I rise to my own reflection.
Don’t fuckin talk to me about your rising constitution.
Don’t tell me about your confused state of mind.
Tell your children before it's too late.
Hold on to their pride and self worth.
Rise up from the ashes of disbelief as the world spirals away.
Professor and politician what’s the difference in a world of no more?
When all comes down to it.
I’m gonna have a beer.

By the Early Morning

With the bull tie around my neck the stock white blur of a Saturday afternoon goes to my head like Monday morning traffic.
Hot steaming satisfaction of one early afternoon day. Funnel and grass scoped by dirt falling grains through my fingers lost in perpetual thought, perpetual hurt, perpetual shock as my head slowly hits her breast like soft down pillow.
Nobody knows all the horrors going on everyday.