Something Dangerous

Something Dangerous

I think reading is damned dangerous thing.

Wait no… let me rephrase that…

Knowledge, knowledge is damned dangerous thing.

Because Knowledge tells you everything you are not.

Knowledge has you looking at your surroundings.

Knowledge causes you to assess the situation.

And unfortunately, knowledge has you making judgments

coming to terms with reality.


Its dangerous because after you’ve done all of that,

knowledge doesn’t necessarily tell you how to change,

or what exactly needs to be changed.

There Is Always Fuckin Shakespeare

There Is Always Fuckin Shakespeare

The master,

of trippingly spoken worded verse,

tooling through lives and loves

of tragic scenario.


Be still stolen hearts,

run through with rapiers,

while I,

toiling for my Juliet,

run my hunt

my quest,

with status-factions broken,

of world worded conspiracy acts

hindering the finding of my place

within the born bearing of the mainframe.


What dreams may come to the ended,

when mortis opens his door and points.

hold to yourselves,

to your families,

and live with eyes unblinded and open,

through mine,

I have not but to see.


What voice

from yonder window,

where light breaks

the ear drumming beat,

of my heart’s broken speed,


I wander alone

down the boulevard’s center,

pining for one,

who was held in me for such a time,

I am forgotten the days

journeyed without.


the now moment of time,

I stand in wait and want,

for a name to connect,

before the face is met,


and the understanding is mine,

For the tones descending,

call to me images,

Ideas and ideals

that hold me,

both terrified,

and wanton.

Near Miss

Near Miss


rather than selfless.

My past


from my haunt

a coffee shop


from a gathering

of my friends.


Did I invite

or did she

find me, here?


My past,


moved like a breeze

on down the street,

passing me

with a simple, “Hello.”


My she,

then walked

down the street

out of site,

with no how are’s,

and no goodbye.

My Caitlyn

I was given fair warning


but after several

back and fourth’s


getting ideas in my head

about her,

I went forward.


Something was off

at first glance,

but there was a connection

and good rapport.

The hug threw me,

the stiff bulges

pressed into my chest,

were not breasts.


I sat and we talked.

Instant conversation,


getting to know each other.

Her arms told me

more of the story.

She picked up her drink…

I saw her arms,

they were my arms.

They were man arms.

My mind wandered to Seinfeld.


I stayed,

we talked for a while

I tried to get my head around it.

I imagined kissing,

it didn’t work,

I imagined a blowjob



but it too didn’t work.

I couldn’t imagine

anything more.


There was so much in common,

and for a while

during the conversation,

I forgot.

During the conversation.

I was here,

I was with her

laughing and exchanging stories.

Then suddenly I was back.


Friends, maybe

but that’s not what

this was supposed to be.

What was this,

a date?

a first meeting over coffee?


It was not going to work.

Not for her,

and not for me.

It ended

cordial goodbyes

a handshake hug

and a story to tell.

Midnight At Ten-thousand Feet

Midnight At Ten-thousand Feet

L.A. is a universe

of constellations in city lights

and I,

a bullet dropped

onto the motherboard

from a dirty

uncircumcised dick

that misfired accidentally

once upon

a drunken holiday night.


Everyone hates

to be caged

but crib-conditioned from birth

lambs suckle bottled milk

from tattooed arms

carrying reminders of sacred past scares.


Tenement dwellers

move through space

afraid of neighbors

without references,

living in the face

of hurled rocks

sworn curses

and depth charges

against inter city time quakes.


Knurled fingers

point out a fat bastard


“A Confederacy of Dunces”

that curse the multitudes

living in the idiocrasy

kick started by jealous anger

too serve a justification of stupidity.


Shake the feeble hands of

a princess

who will crawl through shit

for a fur coat

getting rug burns

for walk on roles

call the deadbeats sitting on spinners


absent for the birth

by another

for another seventeen-year-old

soon to be a ghetto rat dropout.


Judge the thinkers,

burn the writers

condemn the artisans


one and all

their end will be for not

on the scale of the grandiose


Two thousand foot falls

in their shoes

my hand releases its grip

rather than pull

another surviving shot

to this lunacy.


Of those hated in success

and loved in death

the bottom feeders


by the uninformed

the civilization of “we the monkeys”

the finders of the fifth digit

walkers in the upright

sojourn towards discovery

and creation.


Just before impact

I say, “So long,”

realizing there are truths

coming into learning

and I go to the beyond saying

“We will soon discover things

that will shake the base

of our found-nations.”

“No one’s going to hire you, if you…” is a bullshit statement. It’s small and defeatist and doesn’t have any faith in art or creativity or determination or the absolute grandeur that is the universe. It is statement made by someone who has conformed; someone who has given up and no longer accepts that anything can happen, and that anything at all is possible. Most of the stories of success I know have an element of mysticism to them, including the ones that look like they just played the game and worked their way up through the ranks. That mysticism can be called luck, but I think Richard Branson said it best: luck is timing and preparation, which is being ready when the time is right. Okay so he didn’t say it first, but I heard him talk about it in his book and when he said it, it moved me, so he gets the credit okay.

Rain Is Falling

Rain Is Falling

The world went to sleep

expecting tomorrow to be waiting

but in the middle of the night

the world went away

when it awoke,

it found today had arrived.


Rain was falling

causing rivers to overflow,

fires had started from lightening

and the world found so many things

taken for granted were wrong.

Some people

began remembering the future

while forgetting the past.


Nothing was as it seems as it rained.

It rained and rained like to never end,

flood it did as it rained constantly

for more than two months

a cosmic faucet of never-ending

theologians issued apologies

that no arks had been built previously

though it was unnecessary

for the entire planet did not over fill itself.


don’t misunderstand

everything was wet

soaked in a world of depression

but the planet was not submerged.

In fact

it seemed that the earth simply drank

its fill in those first thirty days,


deserts evened out

and some of the structures

more precarious crumbled and fell

many coastal houses collapsed

the rich causing bankruptcies of insurance.

Roads and even a few cities

were washed away into oblivion

taken muddy rivers ridden with debris


Crime was reduced significantly

due to thievery not being a friend

to the effort of torrential weather.

national flood warnings were obvious.

After weeks, sighting no end

schools reopened

and people came to an understanding

that this was life

and there was nothing to be done.

This was the new world.

Were sandbags were sold out

and companies had to scramble

to acquire enough supply.