Life's Commute

Tuesday's wet march - rain cold
Bike through cars trucks
Lights pierce exhaust - a new species
Of air burning vapor of life
Breathing in the ocean's depth
Whale sharks and dancing, swaying hypnotic coral
That I may never touch
On my morning commute.

The Day

The day has been given me
Not my story or my name
Not my job or the game
A higher power its nature un-tame
Whence have I come?
Without a goal I run-
Seeking fun, baking sun
Who to blame
Wence I exclaim: I am!
Free - I am.

Bat Outta Hell

Spirits enthused
fly from a cave at dawn
In Austin
Blind with faith
They spring in search of prey
Onlookers leisure to stand and stare
But marvel they do
At the rhythm and flare
To look as a child
In awe of the gift
To be open and blank
As a sky and mist
This is to fly out and follow
A drive that is pure
Instinct and a wandering
Everlasting cure.

Tuning In

The channel a tune
From a passing car
It's loud, then faint
Its message unsure
But it comes and goes
That I know
I must but to walk and listen
Observe the show.

And when I am open, reserved and true
The music appears with a golden hue
A muse that exists and I'm not immune
To play and dance to this magic tune.


Stop Lookin' for Me

Freedom from self - and my story -
On purpose. Calm and ready
To break the surface.
A tale, roleplay too frail
Prostrate spriritual jail
Breath and conscious flow
Hail don't judge how low
The parents went
and the angels didn't.
Goodnight God bless
Goodluck - nothing less
It ain't me babe
I'm free to express.

Light Space

Smile at the rose
That rests and waits
To receive the beauty
Of your gratitude

Pinch its stem
Placing your fingers
Diagonal between thorns
To lift it up in admiration

The scent has yet to reach
Into your open mind
And faith whispers
A life all its own

Pirate's Kiss

The pirate's kiss
Sultry muse
Blown past snapping sails
Ripped free through salty mist
Seeking purchase floating feather
Flowering and fleeting, season scents
Passing time in bliss and rhyme

Porche

Where you from?
Does it matter if
You're there and I'm
Here -

Romanticizing a culture
Far away omnipresent
Sounds and rhythm of
Poetry -

Dylan, Karouac, who's to
Blame? A sound like
Cash - rings in
Rap to change it all.

Be my last girlfriend

Be my last girlfriend

Incense in the Kitchen gives
Fragrance to the rose, in full blossom
It's pedals surrendered in complete faith
Eternal consciousness, a poor substitute
for your absence

The blush of your skin
The magic of your eyes
Their shape and color
Animated by your timeless body

The trickle of your laugh
and tongue.


The Crow & Mule

Eating figs rutted road
Convoy dust Israeli jeeps
Lurching hault
The seeds in teeth
Cracking my head

Rubber bullets, real amo?
Amateur soldiers
New Jersey bread
Taking time between High School
From the pool and Manhattan streets

Rocks from the soil
Bounce from armor off helmets
Trucks transformed into sizzling
Flame balls bursting
Moltov cocktails

Startled donkey
Chained to its cart
A crow's squak audible
Breaking nerves
Pause in chaos.

Fear & Faith

Last words, form dissolved
Puddle perturbed, farce faked
Silver screen, Hollywood hills
Animal dream, hyphen scar
Sewer life, burning star


Car Sick

Withering on the bus
High on turns, twists, and jerks
Streaming cars, paint job puss
Breathing unconscious quirks
And writing what's mentioned
To a sixth sense and a fourth dimension


Pain body
The world is your toy
Smashed up and broke
Short circuited soldier moat
Dolls ragged hair skin plastic fair
Eyes distrust the view
Of a child formed of flesh
Its makers on the side - detached -
Surrogate energy playing a roll
Assigned by the spirit world


Portola Valley

Mountain lion distant call
Portola forrest standing tall
Pricks of mansioned plots
Swindled profits, landscape clots
Fragrant mist ensconced leaves
Dark patchwork swells and heaves
Time and temperance take flight
In space its presence might


Túpac Amaru Revolutionary Movement

"Don't signify" he said
Hot and sweaty
Damp carpets and walls
Thumps from MRTA soccer
Hooligans in the main hall
Cover sounds of soldiers
Boring beneath the Japanese
Ambassador's residence
Readying explosives
Their plan: Save face
Enforce their agenda
Muzzle poor in bloody rage

While Lori Berenson sits high in a cell
Peeled apples served through cold bars
Her parents laugh with incredulity
Out in a valley
Cameras catching their every move
Lori's anger
Ego spitting
At masked cowards
Serving a lawless verdict
Hooded courtiers serving
Enfogged families invisible
To their feet in the soil
Along rows of coca fields

Out of the Ether

They come when I'm conscious
The thoughts and concepts
A road traveled untread
Frought with divinity and ego dread.

Who trusts into this empty space?
The writer - a wizard -
Conjuerer of gifts, rhythm,
Blessed grace

Poems!

Humping Baggage

Alpine heat
Vietnam vet
Drunken dreams
Beads of sweat

Rock wall ring
Moat of fire
Rampart fisure
Asphixed desire

Viking tine
Cicada knight
Palisades cache
Juvenile fright


Double Down

Pearl diver dark
sunken silk weeds
compound coral
labyrinth reeds

salt stung foam
stalactite cave
dripping songs
envoy wave


Bay Surf

Fantasy fog milky flannel
Great white current chum
Shore homes turquoise panel
Sand and shrubs, breezy hum

Seagulls mock Surfers' ghosts
Sun in town warming slopes
Jogger's backs dog walkers
Shoppers thrill stalkers

Cozy fog blanket renewed air
Small houses mute stare
Cycles through jetty cay
Another morning day
Sweet set rolls away.


Odd Children

Read Pinnocio at a young age
Cinderella, a better toll sage
Ugly duckling, little match girl
Who foresees this dark world?
When fantasy matches fiction
Canon recoil's frightful predilection

I wish the best for our futures
Padded pockets malformed moochers
NRA, ACA, what's needed is not dead
Nor is it ever uttered or said
It's all and nothing among us now
Neither fable pretend high brow

Nameless

Before kings and Christ
Out of nothing, joy emotion heist
In the stare of darkness
Measureless primordial warm
Existing actions after dawn
Forms in mist, the space between
Sound and solid, earthly dream
Air and earth free
Floating web of love, pre history

Killing Time

I know it hurts
High for another first
Pushing a futile run
Strawberry fields
Wish it were done
To finish in time
Sick white line
Ego-bliss in pain
Breaths and beats for years in vain


Haumikole!

Native land under guise of red blood and blue
Pilameya - we thank you!

Praise your trees and catch the dreams
That dance in the dark and shadow screams

A century and more colonial rule
To the love of freedom - lifeway, Lakota mule.

Canupa Gluha Mani; saddled dis-ease
People poisoned by land over seas

Scalped and slowly bled
Mother's nourishment true

Great animals hide
White skin false pride.

The gift you left, the killers plundered
Spirits have spoken, drum beats thunder.

Run and sing through the great expanse
Free at last, no longer a slave

To the land of the free
And home of the brave.


What the Art

Who writes the street sign?
hung green pedal
Reflective letters
curved brushed metal.
Text TV - captioning saint;
Court transcriber verdict faint.
The sun rays etch earth -
The message poetry birth.

There is no God

It's not your doing that hate
Senses, humor, and nervous gait
Disembodied spirit scattered chat
Drifting toward me; it's love that
Energy vibrating light speed
Heightened tension passing breeze

Bi-Products

Liars - fucking liars - the lot of you
Exchange and consume your lethal brew:
Black work, muslim fears-
Capitulating politics, crocodile tears.
Weaselly men, passive haze; drunken women, USA
So Ring it up, cash it in!
Deny your faith and right wing sin

More poems from the old Mac page

Pharmaco-Mis·chie·vous

Urban wasteland chaste skies rain
Dark glass tower masked pain
FDA's tangled trials
EMEA's bloody viles
Beagles, mice, fetal pigs fixed
Slaughtered for stiff hair, impotent pricks.
Centaur hooves scramble air
Capital's science patent nightmare
Lab coat diploma draped hate
Self prescribed clinical defecate

Not Stoned

Nørrebro Night, lamps quit, truth hangs proud
Cluster parked cars, pitched primeval fog
School of love - pretty autonomes
Silenced by trees aura kindling
Simmering secrets left unfeeling

Pop Song

In truth, my heart races
your tongue in my throat
feelin' you, your smell
and skin, my lover - my
future ex

Another ex for my memory
my heart erased
pieces donated you
bested by thoughts and words untrue
my ex

Life and time in bed, feelings amplified
by the dose of your presence.
Faded memories on my soul hung
the songs ending, we've had our fun

Ex friended lover, naked goddess
Look back often with serenity
Sex free times calamity
Chaotic raw emotion undress

Shock In The Arm

Get off on the pill
Self medicate prosperously
Trust joy and abundance
Capture meditation going
Within between thoughts
In tune with nature
Hunt wholeness in balance
Aligning with others'
Conception of natural rhythm
Fulfillment Inspired love
Internal allowing light

Bourgeoise Pigs

Why eat the rich?
Scrawny hors d'oeuvre bitch
Feline flesh meal
Aspertame hair crisped steel

Painted skin pulled taught
Makeup smeared thick froth
Silicone lips sucked flesh
Spirits tender garnish

Phony ink stained pin
Liver and lungs pickled sin
Aluminum laced aftertaste
Gold crown flouride paste

Doing Business Ass

P2P, what are you, to me?
Close shop patron-prophet
Sellout boutique firm CV

Over stocked judas matron
Globalized colony of
Porfolio hedge-hog station

Ticker-fed oil embasement
Forecast this and fuck
Your mission statement!

Mausolea

Cement tary's dawn yellow wood
Buzz saw cracking bark naked plot
Foundation exhumed rubble
Tadpoles bubbling puddle

Skeleton rising timber
Retaining capital; bastard fir
Stench of soiled mounds
Paved through sacred grounds

Spring of Jagtvej 69

Morning dark to Post Danmark
Bike path drunks and wayward Mercedes
Nørrebro flames waft perfume breeze.
It's not about the house - capital's chaos;
Gratis icecream at Paradis, Paris-Roubaix vox pop.

Counteract Contract

Dotted line scar tatooed lethal ink.
Trembling fingers clench molatov cocktail
Silky flames engulf the dais;
Leather chair, blottered thoughts,
Scared oil slicked shoes - charred false material blues.

Antcest

Raining onto sterile hills, ants from openings, in model
volcanoes. Cry a hot strip of steam-rolled pebbles, cross
without incident fast to save soft toe pads. Strong enough to carry and fight like the animals that ingest their bodies by the pound sucking on high-power the lava of their home. "I'll take a large dose of fresh pheromone juice to go please." Living comfortably day by day in simplicity relative to their minds; a twelve tiny steps to success without the IRS.

Writes

Blind Stranger

Stranger, walking my direction
Thoughts bound bi curious predilection
Gaze swings rounded aura, cape and bull
Danced displaced air; perfume still
Dissipate dull stare.


VO Hairspray
Vern left early; only one year of High School.
About the same age of his wife, he kicked off the compound,
for drinking pop and being out of shape.
He buried a bus, or at least, he had it done.
Could that be some comment on his hatred for school?
Or maybe it was symbolic of his dislike for beatnicks.
This bus is under the ground, dark. the windows probably
look like those glass cases in the arthropod wing of the zoo.
Little passage ways and round rooms filled with larva.
I wonder if anyone checked that out; someone once wrote: "God's like VO hairspray... he holds through all kinds of weather."

Fertile Seasons
My quilt worn and dirty reminds me of her busy on the sewing wheel,joining aprons and dresses like a family tree.
The next crop will be in her memory;my sweat and grief stitched to the harvest carpeting the earth. Soil turns over plow blackened under the sun sending steam from the earth's core cooling my back. After each row I swing, plow and body,
to survey the scarred earth browning too slow to see;
I rest the plow like a sun dial. On the packed dirt outlining the field I follow a stray tumbleweed with my shooting eye, and kick through it with the tip of my boot.

Shipwreck

Spectator grappling with God and Jesus
Calls out of the bliss.
Faith plays leading roll
Loosing face paying toll.

Living up the dream
Human kind pierced by minds
Fading rays
Floating seagul westward gale

Currents push up foam
Fins and blood's mortal wale

Homeward sails the blissful soul
Gently treading the
Path's tempo.


Wreck Redux

Spectator grappling with faith or God and Jesus
Calls out of void; salted lips loosing face
expelling wrasping ray of hope.
Toward gulls with westward gale – currents pushing up –
Mortal’s wale. Homeward sails blissful soul gently treading
The path’s tempo


Envoy soul of Pheidippides
Darkest light steals tempestuous churning tide
Fennel fields quiet contrast; Ocean’s laurel ring Bornholm
Droplets mist stars over fallow mores; muscles split in sandy pores; Admonition from siren on foreign shores


Saintly Present
Whisper triggered, clear step; effort spent, thought configured. Element born of saintly lyre; gifted release, Banished fear. Dream blurs with recollection of waking moments - event and action - meeting ghostly apparition; banquet of laughter, life and love, hereafter.


Wrecked

An old captain with ancient orders bound to bobbing skiff;
salt sprayed pores lifted over volcanoes on projected tomb.
Erupting reefs find dry grey matter teasing apparitions
glowing through eyes like onions.
Melted boulders blanket soft breasts of hard grass, guard the swimming fossils, time elapsed. Shripwrecked jellyfish magnify homeless fragments, while a skin head bullets into the surf, through cray fish and the bounty of warthy sailors.


Star Fucker
I went to college with that dude from that movie, what's it called? Filmed in the city and then he was in that WWII flick... Anyway, I also went to college with that hot blond from that movie filmed in New Orleans and she was in a movie with that actor, that I actually saw in the mid '80's, driving in his Jeep Cherokee Chief.

When I was a kid, that SNL actor moved to my town, and actually gave the commencement speech at my sister's 8th grade graduation; then he married his babysitter (well, the girl who babysat, for his kids), who was in my grade or a year younger, and I totally had a crush on her.

Then there was that time Edie Murphy stopped in his car and leans over and asks me: "...you stealin' that bike?" 'cause I was towing my sister's ten speed. And of course there was that time I saw Keith Haring leaving Nells, but it was my friend who spotted him, and I'm thinking: "Why's he leaving when I can't even get into this damn place?" And he was like wearing an Armani suit with high-tops and I probably couldn't have afforded his underwear - new or used.

Now, it's like, all these stars live in my home town right outside of the city where there's a ton of more stars. They're the only famous people that I know of in that town - unless you think economists and lawyers are stars - and they're the only African American residents. Very often, I'll walk by a set on the street, or even a movie star or any kind of star. Like when Paul McCartney walked right past my friend and I - that friend spotted him a mile away and I thought it was just another rich white guy on the Upper West Side.

I used to see Howard Stern jogging in Central Park all the time and Madonna with her personal trainer/bike messenger/father of her first child who was just this stud-sperm-donor or something; they all seem so normal, except they have huge bank account, and take credit for their gifts.