-writings-

All the little sheep in the break room  blinky winky

Glazed over eyes, salivating mouths

Like genetically altered simians

Tubes protruding from the back of their necks

Draining thoughts straight into an outlet on the wall

Twitching, stitching an infinite quilt of

Ignorance and brainwashed children

Mommy why is their war?

Never mind my child, go watch TV

Can we ever believe again?

Can we heal the skin?

Torn from our backs

By the power that lies and kills

Our children's lives

No hope for a future

Without a million dollars in the bank

Food, so tainted with chemicals

Anxiety plaguing our bodies with every bite

As parasites of fear clog our colon and poison our livers

Ripped from our belly's and devoured

By the men and women making a mockery of sentient life

An animal no longer a creature of feeling

Only vessels for cholesterol and heart disease

Destroying our young with obsession over flesh

No trace of dignity no trace of kindness

Husbandry no longer

Slavery forever

Into the blinding light of day I hover past a row of inhabited steel cubes Slowly examining what had been created within All were very different Designs, sculptures, large blank walls The inhabitants were eerily consumed Perpetual movement uneasy contractions Muscles flexed and veins bulbous Pumping with thick mucous As the examination proceeded Sadness crept within me Filling my bones with corrosive Seeping out into my flesh Skin turning yellow with jaundice These boxes are not what they appear Deep into a tunnel where no light can penetrate The pen hole appears to me in the distance No not boxes, linked together sequence Flashing before my eyes Cells from a film of a childhood Scared to breathe Noise creates frustration creates pain Disapproval runs deep in theme Lacking in ability or praise All I can see is a projector reaching Deep into oblivion Cells of time encased in metal Cages become our homes

the morning breaks my heart flutters and hand shakes early sun sets on my face mind rolls around in space forgotten shadows creep down a hazey road disappearing into nothingness rising to my feet a beam of light across my body like a belt of gold from sacrificial sacraments goats blood spilled on my shoes bare feet slip in a sticky mix of mud and viscera walls close into a three sided cage vines and a manifestation on alien insects swarm around my body and into every orifice choking gasping writhing in pain liquid lights of brown and white a mechanism of thought controls actions without purpose purpose to be understood by nature I rise to my feet a gold beam of light reflects upon the wall I step out into the glow of life to nurture what I fear

So unsure what to do at times I second guess myself this very minute I want to be somewhere else I envision a rocky place where the roads lead to nowhere turned upside down and on there sides a society lost in a sink hole we dare to venture on into this strange place finding no sadness, confusion or pain only a place to rest and gaze upon this shifting world a hand, delicate as a newborn sparrow presses against my hand the life force attached to the hand shares its energy making me stronger giving me strength enough to desire more I pull the life force closer to my body and see into its eyes piercing and nourishing light radiates from the eyes in which I am entranced by as one we stand in a circle of impenetrable power deciding at that moment that we can never part

a letter to a friend

Although I tend to drown myself in gore and plight and I have been well aware of the tragic sufferings and death going on in Iraq and the middle east in general for years, those pictures of the Iraqi citizens tore my heart out of my chest and smashed it up against the sterile pale textured wall of my track house. I Broke down and cried for those sad faces, I could only imagine and very easily imagine that being L.A. instead of Baghdad. That those souls running around in ruins trying to find a shred of what were there lives could be us, Joe America instead Osama Iraqi. I find it hard even now after witnessing so much, to stomach even the news. I have become ultra sensitive to the images on the television screen. It sends a sharp stabbing pain to my brow to think that the America people are becoming even more insensitive to death and torture unless it is there fellow countrymen. Even then, it could be their neighbor and they could shrug it off, like so many ”guilty until proven innocent” urban stars on COPS. I have very little sympathy for my neighbor. I have a hard time not casting judgment on them. Although I really don’t know their true feelings because I am intimidated by what the media has dubbed as popular thought. I am not scared to express my opinion but do not want a war in my own neighborhood. War is never the answer. Killing innocent children solves nothing. Blaming one man or a tyrannical regime for the crimes your committing is hypocrisy.