Between

I linger in the space
Between now and later
Stumbling down the island
Between two highways
One going forward
The other stuck in the past
The edge of life crunches beneath my feet
The future of my unborn children
Has already been decided
Though I still have no idea where I am going
It's easier to stand still
And wait for fantasy to fall from the sky
Just hope it happens before the sky falls on our heads and pigs fly

Twinkle toed
Blue souls
Tickle my fancy
Body snatchers
Live inbetween laughter
And hatred
I am stuck

Poetry too can have ad breaks
Spaces where we flee through fancy
Pushing product, selling flimsy false fantasies
Tying the ideal with yet to be discovered inadequacies

Tongue slides across the page
Eyes look skywards
Heart slows ever so slightly
Feet drag in tune to the throbbing in my head

This is a journey
As schizophrenic as reality
Find what you will between the lines
Between
Between
Between.......

Insolence

I only see her when I close my eyes

Engraved on the inside of my lids
She carves my future with her silence

Angels are mothers cleaved out of spirit
They do not give answers
Their hints are abstract
Vague suggestions that leave you with the residues of independence
When I cry, she blurs
But I feel her caress my heart
Her essence following used blood through my veins
Back to the heart

I choke on her substance
And vomit out my fears

When I laugh
She reaches for the sun
And pulls it a little closer to me

I have been to the planet K-Pax
And every other unknown planet, star and galaxy

She takes me on trips of enlightenment monthly

Humans can be so near-sighted

My best friends tend to be illegal aliens
Somehow we seem to share love
for introspection and observation

She often says I need to participate more in life
I say I'm living and breathing
Isn't that participation enough?
I find more comfort in the anticipation of nothing
Death comes to us all
Why not prepare myself for its heralded arrival

I am at home in the invisible
And she is my companion

Whisperer of truth

The muse has been dethroned

I have sought the right words
In a lifetime of folly
I have looked to the stars
For the semblance of inspiration
I have lived and loved
Laughed and cried
All in search of ample fodder
To satiate my writing hand
I have observed the world
As it floats by me

And, above all, I have worshiped at the feet of the muse
Offered my soul to her
Lavished her with gifts
Danced at her whim
Made a fool of myself at her bidding
All for the right words

I have done all this and more
And drowned in a writer's block
That has gnawed at my being
Left its teeth marks on my spirit
Rendered my words impotent

I have pursued turmoil
Succumbed to pain and suffering
I have starved myself
Denied myself pleasure
All for the right words

I have done all this and more
I shall do it no more
For he has arrived
He was come to claim his space in his world that once was mine

The muse has been dethroned

My life is no longer my own
I give it to him willingly

slaughtered sheep = lamb

in my next life
i plan to lay out statues
of icons
and take pot-shots
at their ideology

we are sheep
led by man-made madness
we are zombies
on a celebrity-driven feeding frenzy
we are fools
blinded by bling

who defines our fabricated truth?
who decides what's hot & what's not
who is the puppetmaster
controlling the strings
that make us hopping marionettes
chasing dreams within hell's kitchen
never making it into heaven's lounge

pound for pound
we hold the power
in the beating of our hearts
thought for thought
we hang on the illuminati's coat-tails
nibbling on the scraps
thrown our way
in return for our blind loyalty

we all saw the matrix
believe it fiction
live in non-fiction
follow hollow meaning
wallow in shallow living
it is the shadows that truly live
we
we will continue to dream

A Saturday Afternoon

One day I shall leave home with nothing but a notebook and a pen

I shall find an irrelevant backward dive
And occupy a seat in the darkest of corners
Where my presence is forgotten

I shall order cup after cup of hideous, re-heated coffee
And watch the world happen from this, safest of corners

And when the caffeine has ignited my inspiration
And the muse has me within his grip
I shall write, and write, and write
I shall write about everything, anything and nothing
No-one and no thing shall be left untouched by my pen

I shall sit and write beats
And melodies
And broken lives
And distorted souls
I shall write it all

One day I shall do this but today
On this dreary Saturday afternoon
All I have is intention
I am running without purpose
Afraid to stop and pick up a pen
Because I know that I am still lost
And shall only be found
When I find that nook in the wall
Where my greatness shall finally be realized
Where I shall write enough to last me a lifetime
Where I shall end these days with words
And a few drops of arsenic
Where they shall find me
In pinero's image
Collapsed in a cold, dank, dirty corner

A corner where I finally found myself
And realized my reason for dying
I had written it all
There was nothing worth living for

Ramblings

my thirst is quenched by the blood of my ancestors
i am descendant of you & you & you
champion of your broken tomorrows
each step i take is a step further than you ever took
but the planet's surface constantly brings me back to where i begun

this is my manifesto
detailed account of what i plan not to achieve
it is all a dream and when i wake up
i shall begin at the end and return to the beginning
i am the only son of Jupiter
contra-gender manifestation of Venus
she has a .......
and i have a penis

baby, will you be my Yoko Ono
when i die publish every word i ever wrote
even the grocery list
someone has to get paid off this madness
my insanity is electric
it makes my hair stand
and my throat choke

scattered thoughts are the pillars of this society
mentally i embrace chaos
but expect order and control in my home

mommy i hear voices
they say they represent you
and i must do as they do
not as they say
but i can't see them

i wipe my feet on the moon
before stepping onto the dust of mars
pluto is great for skiing but nothing else
prefer to holiday on mercury
nice, a tad bit warm, but great for sandboarding

am i rambling
my theory is chaotic
in the random there is order
in nonsense there is sense
i feel like the n
marooned in a distant planet
between se and se
cute?

this is the product of an orgy
with decadent angels bored with the stiffness of heaven
did i say 'stiffness'?
juvenile humor has a way of bringing out the child in me

am i the only one who thinks hell is about decadence
and heaven is like living at home with your parents
ALL THE TIME
the sins of the father never visited on this son
babies come from heaven
shouldn't we return there in death
or is it a natural progression to fall down

the words reflect nothing but themselves
i am nothing but a mouthpiece
fingering keyboard because i am bored

mommy i hear voices
please tell them to STOP

The End

I died in a dream last night
And found myself in purgatory
With the poets, and writers, and rappers
Got caught in a conversation
With Tupac and Shakespeare
On the power of rhyme & reason
Old Will found American English treason
And Pac thought the rhyming couplet thing
Was totally overplayed
I left them sharing a pipe of heavenly weed
And moved on in search of Pinero
Who was chatting up a transvestite
For a line
Still seeking a cause
He reminisced about the nuyorican
Still waiting for his soul mate, miguel algarin,
To come join him for the next chapter
Of the hereafter
Seems I had ended up in the place where writers go
Between heaven and hell
Lorca, Wilde, Themba, Wright, Hughes, Baldwin were all there
Kerouac, Williams, Biggie & Ginsberg too
The list was long
And I had no time
Coz morning was coming
And then I awoke