Sunday, November 30, 2008

Monday, November 24, 2008


To put it to you plain
I feel so insane
So much pain
From my brain
Hot tears run down my brown face
I get surrounded by sadness
And drowned in misery
To me it’s a mystery
Where all the pain comes from
It bubbles up inside of me
Causing me great agony
I wonder how to be free of tragedy
Thoughts of suicide run through my head
But deep down I know I won’t be better off dead
If I could just get around the pain and the tear stains
I want to remain but I need a change
I wonder if I can continue in this vein
Every day seems such a strain
Daily now depression grips me in an angry fist
I try to twist and persist I resist
I need to see a therapist to assist
My days disappear in too many tears
Too many fears
Too many hard years

Friday, November 21, 2008

The People’s Republic of America

The dictator knows who I call and who calls me
The dictator knows where I go and who I see
The dictator knows the sites I surf the emails I send
The text messages I receive
They know all my bank accounts and social security numbers and fake ID’s
They know my race age and sexual orientation
they know my tribal nation
Political affiliation and activist organization
I have been filmed and photographed too numerous of times to mentioned
filed and data based placed
I have been tracked by satellites
Followed with the GPS OnStar hooked to my car
The dictator censors the news so I only hear the untrues
Their propaganda campaign distorts perceptions
Protection from terrorist
Protect me from dictatorships
As my civil liberties have been stripped
Innocent citizens detained tortured and whipped
Illegal wars to over throw and take more
The Geneva Convention is something that’s not mentioned
Extraordinary Rendition covert political CIA missions
My fellow Americans your democracy has been hijacked
Not by terrorist
But the Patriot Act
Read the facts
No search warrants
Unlimited wirer taps
cast your vote note write it in quotes
they change the name
political scapegoats
promote their result
the so called cleansing of the voting roles
Blacks are bounced falsely accused criminals on parole
Government officials on company payrolls
The dictator commits crimes without consequence trails or sentence
Hiding behind the lines of its classified access denied no further reply
As another war looms and more innocent die.
They put a microchip in my finger tip
Tattooed a serial number on the back of my neck
They want me to believe land of the free home of the brave
Didn’t they kill millions of Native Americans and made my ancestors slaves

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Romeo & Juliet

You are my Juliet
I am your brown skinned Romeo
Love is love, not traditional
She loves me because I am her mixed shot of Basquiat
Meets Gil Scott
I am her Red Dread
Our love is original
It rocks the Richter scale
To the highest decibel shaking society
I love her because she’s my sun
If one day the moon rose instead of the sun
That is how a day without her would feel
Social norms - our love is ancient and soulful
Every day with her is a red wine toast

Sunday, November 9, 2008

slowing down film speed to go with time

playing melodica at a recent feature at nightengales in nyc

This instrument is used mostly as back-up for reggae music. I've been playing for 20 years and Joy claims I'm as good as Augustus Pablo who was one of the best melodica players ever.

Saturday, November 8, 2008


Things get lost in my one bedroom apartment
I think somewhere there must be a hole
I have lost my toothbrush and flash drive
I stroll around the house and wonder where they went
My apartment is not big mind you about 650 square feet
a place to eat, a place to sleep, a place to peep and a place to leak
so it is quite the strangest thing when things just disappear
until I suddenly realize there must be a hole some where
How else can it be explained that in such a small place
so many things can remain unclaimed
To put it plain it’s a hide and seek game
that is slowly driving me and my lover insane
why just today all the lighters were gone
This includes two long black and red kitchen lighters
A light green and a dark green bic lighters
A Philips screwdriver, two nail clippers my lovers left
blue check two cartons of sidewalk chalk Bob Marley talking CD
A million times one of the three remotes to plasma TV
has gone missing, still can’t find my flash drive
and my ipod disappears for weeks
my pens and pencils at least a squad and
Now a large sharp kitchen knife is gone for two weeks
Make me wonder if my lover wished to be my legal wife
or take my life in a fit of strife
Two weeks later the knife reentered the apartment in the refrigerator
In a salad in the vegetable compartment
my protein-shaking cup is gone plus twenty bucks
Joy’s make up disappears and a piece to my melodica is gone
With a Marijuana oz of exotica
Lately this game has gone deeply strange
My toothbrush appeared on the sofa
in uncooked turkey meat I was about to eat
I had to look all over then the usual piece of paper with a phone number
I have given in to this losing thing roll
And have stepped up my search for the hole

Friday, November 7, 2008


The bike ride I almost died
I almost died
the truck collide
came weaving by
every day I almost die
from 9 to 5
and they wonder why I drink after I ride
biking every day is my secret suicide

Tuesday, November 4, 2008


I don’t have my own mind I said
Whaddaya’ mean he asked
You inhabit my mind I said
That’s a really good line he said

You inhabit my mind
All the time Joy thought up this line
Joy thought up this line so I typed it in
This computer of mine

It’s not just a line I said
You inhabit the deeper regions inside my head
How do you say that word, hypothalamus
I’ll look it up in the dictionary

My thoughts of you are extraordinary
Because you’re extra-more than ordinary
I want to lick you like a strawberry
A love like this longs for poetry

Our love breaks the laws of humanity
Humility and sanity creating a whole
New meaning for the word boundaries
As we dance through our life in poetry

Your life is my idea I say
I show him my tits in play & say
This is performance poetry at its best
I’m here at your behest
This is only the beginning test
Our lives have become an unfinished poem
Put your worries to rest he replies
We’re here today as mother earth’s guests

Monday, November 3, 2008


Don’t be that poet who takes too long
Who goes on and on
That poet we don’t get
that poet that as soon as you finish we forget
Don’t be that poet who sounds like every other poet
or that poet who sounds good and theatrical but who’s words are too dull
Don’t be that poet who hides behind their poem
Or that poet who just talks about sex just to talk about sex
And please don’t be that poet who writes poetry about sex but never has sex
Or worse yet that poet who is not a poet who writes & reads his poems about sex
to try to get other poets to have sex with him
Don’t be that drunken poet or too high poet who stands on the stage and laughs and can’t remember the poem or read it
Don’t be an undercover rasicist nazi poet and use the stage as your soap box mic stop to push infantile political platforms cause that poet will get punched
Don’t be that poet who I can’t hear or that poet who talks so fast it's unclear
Don’t be that poet who tells me about your poem before you read me your poem
And most importantly don’t be that poet who listens to me
Be the poet you want to be and write poetry you want to write and read
The worst poet to be is the poet we never see
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