We are children with playtime giggles,

Drooling over weekly expenditures and wasted cookies,

Crumb covered notebooks sketched out to prevent frivolity,

Upset stomachs brimming with mature failures,

Sucking back tears to impress our neighbors.

The starry eyed know-it-all is crawling amuck,

Under dinner tables and desk chairs,

Under Giant’s legs’ and Christmas trees,

Setting out for a new religion to abide by,

Setting out for a fellow proselytizing pupil with sore gums,

Sorely missing out on toothy chats about nothing.

——

I am not a great proclaimer of united truths,

I am not someone to take home to your parents,

I am not burned by others uptight scorns,

I am not to be trusted.

——-

I am basking in bursting pockets of tasty light,

Swallowing stolen utterances of misery,

Feasting on your passionate decay,

Dying to know what makes a dead clock tick,

Tuning out lunch breaks and bounced checks,

Tuning into gut reactions and slayed demons.

If I could kill a cliché’ I would without haste,

Hastily cleaning up the blood with an old brick,

Using it to a build house with mortar and dicey murmurs,

Preparing a home for averted eyes and cheeky goodbyes.

I am a starry eyed know-it-all with crumb filled pockets.

The third…no not the third. The first. I should be the first and last of my kind. I added the third right there…that’s a white accent I put at the end of my name there. The roman numeral three to be more precise. White, kingly and all knowing. Godly.

Now I just need a moment of your time ladies and gentleman. A moment of your invaluable time. The time most people would pay more than a dime a minute for…well, that’s up to you.

No, I am not homeless. But sir, oh yes sir, I do in fact work for the homeless. That’s right! I-WORK-THE-HOMELESS. Those old bumey motherfuckers who are so damn lazy and bed bug ridden. Yet, they managed to manipulate a middle class citizen such as myself. They got me under a spell they do. But I am a god fearing man. So I may as well work towards my canonization earlier than expected.

Inside this mysterious looking K-MART bag.. well in here there are earthly delights beyond your white imagination. Barbeeeeequeeeeeed Chicken, thick succulent spare ribs,  six zip -locked bags of chocolate covered pretzels. Eight tin-foiled bunches of frozen grapes. Two grams of weed, four grams of cocaine, three vials of liquid ecstasy, two grams, ohhhhh shit it was a long night, correction, one gram of opium. I also have a copy of The Holy Bible, The Koran, The Torah and THE MUTHAFUCKN Diaspora. Not to mention a copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

One gay pornographic video, one interracial pornographic DVD, and one all white female orgy blu ray disc.

I sell most packs of stogies for a mere six beans. I don’t carry any of that turkish shit…I choose to not fund terrorism. So in turn, NO!, I do not carry Valpack coupons either. The Taliban have their sandy hands in everything.

-pause-

Like I said folks, time, as well you know, is invaluable. Like the time I mugged an asian couple for a bag of groceries. I stabbed the husband with a hunting knife I purchased, coincidentally, earlier that day. Fait is a fine fluttering friend, isn’t she?

I learned something that day. I learned that it’s quite simple to mug and stab, not necessarily in that order, asian people. A plastic butter knife and a hard nigger scowl would have done the trick.

I know, ladies and gentleman, now I know. Yes sirrrrrr! Nothing but faggot-ass nigguhs. Nah mean? My apologies white people; do you know what I am speaking of?!

See cause, I was originally a maitre-de of a fine dining establishment. I know how to speak proper and enunciate my vowels and consonants. But I don’t have New York City experience they say. I could have worked fo the motherfuckn Taj Mahal. Kissing the toes of some Arab prince, and wiping his white bengal tiger’s ass. But, I don’t have New York City experience they say. THEY SAY! THEY SAY! Yup…that’s what they say…what they say.

-pause-

You gotta be strong brotha. Pride, my nigguh. No, not black pride, not white pride, just regular humane pride.

I ain’t trying to hurt nobody. I ain’t crying for my forgotten brethren. I ain’t lying to anyone. I just speak…that’s all I do..I speak. Speak doggie! Speak doggie! Sit. Sit. I am sitting boy, oh how I have been sitting…

-long pause-

My blessed daughter…she asked me once. ” Daddy, why can’t you get a job?” I never answered her. I just closed my mouth and sat there. I sat. Oh how I’ve been sitting. Blessed isn’t with us anymore. But if she was in front of me today I would have said:Because the world is against me, my baby.

I ain’t against the world, but the world is against me. So you gotta, push,push,push back against the world and make no excuses.

Just con yourself into a meaningful existence. Forget about the vastness of everything. No need to worry about the complexities of a workaday world.

Rickety World. Leaky Universe.

So I’ll sit. I’ll sit, and keep sitting, until I’ve soaked it all up.

Weathered patterns,
tethered patterns,
shredded to pattern.

Pathways to truths,
loyalties to youth,
become uncouth.

Music and Song,
listened too long,
kill before wronged.

Everything stays,
drowning in days,
with fluidity and grace.

Huff, Puff, Now
Wipe, Wash, Brow
Up, Atum, Crowd!

Right, Left, Hug
Scratch, Drunk, UGH!
Tip,Toe, Shrug

Three, Two, One
Cash, Cut, Won
Shake, Smile, Done.

Poopin Ain't Easy

Felines seem to be the most sophisticated animal out there. Well, they are at the very least a close second to those caged kings and queens who dwell inside their cedar chip castles of comfort. Yeah I said it, hamsters are spoiled bastards. Putting domesticated rodents aside, cats are elegant creatures well deserving of all the comforts and luxuries we humans take for granted. The only sophistication a cat has yet to experience is porcelain pooping. Until now.

Our good friends from CitiKitty have finally come up with a potty training system for pussies. Within weeks your feline friend will be fully trained to defecate in style. All that’s left to add to the experience of their smelly relaxation sessions is CittiCrosswords. I’ll get to work on that right quick. What’s a 5 letter word for “one who spreads rumors”?**

**Answer : Catty.

Time is relative. Hard times are even more relative. How many times have we all heard that, time and time again?

You embark on a big city you once thought you could hold in the palm of your hand. You run into a Hasidic Slumlord posing as a landlord and you become anti-Semitic for a period of months. Soft anti-Semitism. Bugs Bunny anti-Semitism. A regular John Galliano Junior. But not really. Everyone is racist once in a while.

All is settled with court ordered proceedings and life seems colorful again. You lose faith in your life passion for roughly 48 hours or so, until you find your way back.

She softens the blow of your hard reality while pushing through her mundane white collared drudgeries with a smile. It all begins to make sense to you because of her.

Charlie Trainwreck teaches you and everyone you know the art of winning#. Bi-winning. Funny, I thought I was the only one with tiger blood and Adonis D.N.A. Truth be told, I have watched multiple interviews of his ranting, raving and bragging. I have concluded that he is not all that crazy. His cocaine induced euphoric episodes have allowed him to be comfortable with his overblown ego and party-boy antics. So much for being a good father or role model for that matter. But at least he isn’t hiding behind a mask of artificial normality. Being fake is no longer in his playbook. His career/ temporary parenthood is over because of his dance with the ugly amoral truth. Good luck Chuck.

Democratic ideals spread throughout the Middle East with epic gatherings of angry freedom fighters. The United States tiptoes around the shattered glass and urges formal bad boy allies to step down for “the good of the people.” All the while, to save some dough and political points, the U.S. pushes their Saudi brethren to arm Libyan rebels with American weapons. History is redundant. Redundant and Bloody. Bloody and Redundant. Times they are achangin’.

So I think I covered the whole lot of it. There is more to delve into as far as my recent literal trial(s) and tribulations; but I’ll save those tales for the future.All in all, life is real. Art and love are my weapons of choice. Money is scattered about to absorb the spilled blood.

Smile with love today, sleep tonight, art tomorrow.

It began when 3,000 red winged blackbirds dropped dead from the murky
skies of Bebe, Arkansas on late New Years Eve. The trend continued on
January 4th when 500 of the same species of bird followed suit in
Labarree , Louisiana.  A day earlier, millions of small dead fish
washed up on the shores of Chesapeake Bay and Parangua, Brazil,
mimicking the “dead like” behavior of their bird-brained rivals.
Scientist’s hypothesized that these bizarre events can be attributed
to a number of things such as: stress, weather patterns, and deadly
chemicals in the air or water. Whatever their findings may conclude,
the true reason for their behavior is quite obvious. Laziness.

It is no surprise that the red winged blackbirds were the first to succumb
to apathy. Their actions only help promote the negative stereotype
that all black birds are lazy. Next thing you know their surviving
co-pilots will pick up the habit of smoking cigars, while donning
swanky sweater vests, and begin ridiculing their dead brethren
(See:Dumbo). It was only a matter of time before fish decided to go
belly up in preparation for the inevitable. Fish do not stand chance
when it comes to our insatiable appetite for everything under the sea.
Unfortunately, flounders don’t look nearly as colorful and plump as
The Little Mermaid presents them.

In the end, this lackadaisical
behavior is inexcusable being that these creatures were blessed with
the gift of flight and the ability to breathe underwater.
So go ahead boys, risk death in the name of carelessness. Perhaps your
acts of deadly lethargy will put a fire under the rancid asses of The
New York Sanitation Department.

The whistle blew as I sank inward,

marking gravity with a led tip,

notating forward momentum.

Glowing is true to form,

sliding backwards against the grain,

picking up the slack,

relaxing the spine.

I have known true creators,

“cross bearers” and “heave hoers”,

with cracked skin and sore faces;

“Rejoice during a great struggle” they said,

” silence the solution…

I nodded in agreement while chewing my lower lip.

“connect the dots, forget a lot, x marks the spot”

—

I blew the whistle,

laughed at the vastness of everything,

and dug deeper into that lovely center.

Looks like I got myself a man crush.

I am growing tired of cyclical infatuation.