Thursday, September 27, 2012

My Friend

I love you very much!
I hope you're having a wonderful day so
I pray that you imagine a future of amazing possibilities.
I pray that you find the discipline to follow through and
I pray that your life will be full of passion.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

i am going to die
and if not for moments
that lush around me,
pillow my mind with awareness
what would keep me going?

Thursday, August 2, 2012

How to Publish WordPress Blogs to Facebook in 2012

Linking Your WordPress Blog to Facebook

1. Log into your WordPress blog.

2. Go to your “Dashboard” page – which looks similar to below

3. Hover your mouse over the “Settings” tab and click on the drop down box “Sharing”

4.       Click on green link “Connect to Facebook”

5.       A Facebook pop up comes up. Allow WordPress to have access to your Facebook account and then choose which profile or page you want your blog posts to be directly imported to.

6.       Click “Save these settings” and you’re done! Your WordPress Dashboard should look like this below. Now every new blog post will be directly imported onto your Facebook profile or page.

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Dances and the world spins
Bring me a friend
Then I'll be happy

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Every death today
Leases a toll on my soul
Not the death of fathers and
Mothers or their children
(For those deaths cannot be stopped)
Nor can the death of any moment
As the next flow overtakes and changes
Into a dead past where endless paths diverge,
Friends grow distant and homes lost, but a sadness
Warms my body as my bounding thoughts redraw
The free times of laughter and sitting,
Problems with them forgotten, and love
Blankets a once scarred connection,
My thoughts leap through time to
Grab at smiles from company lost
And as death's fee inflates
And I walk new streets
I smile at myself
And cheer inside
Loud enough
For every

To the wind

Touch me,
Be rough,
I can stand your push

Push me,
Pull me,
I love your empty whips

Erase me,
Spread me,
Soar my words along

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Dear Son

You will travel far and wide, see beautiful lands,
And lay upon them your grace.

Your future, unknown, will unravel its exciting details
As each step taken leads further down your path.

You will swim in mountain lakes with red-clay banks
And travel to the glacial blue of God's heaven,

Your time in the musky forest and the sandy beaches
Will bring experience to you.

Bring that to the city, take in everything
And let it flow from your eyes,

And smile!
Let others see that greatness you have come to be.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Desires never to die

Are historians happy? Do they write about Alexander the Great and Napoleon Bonaparte because they envy their fame and legendary greatness?

Writing, because they, one day, want to bless the pages of the books erected in future generations,
bless those pages with the stories of blood and death and sex and women and money - blood money, earned, every cent by the red-sweat drops from their ligament-taught sword-wielding warriors.

Sitting and sipping wine (only the sweetest), and eating croissants, awhile blowing a load of sperm into the mouth of now’s flavor of the week.

Always experiencing, tasting - a little of that, a little of this, much of now and as legend has it
never growing overweight or expending undue effort in their venture wrought with sexual intercourse, Zeusian intercourse, sampling and exploring their personal tastes in little boys, girls and the bloody marmalade that mother created on the table that “should be put into the refrigerator or you’ll be asking for it!”

When Napoleon’s man died, bleeding by the sword wound from the over-sexed Germanic man,
did the emperor become sexually aroused, did his penis move from flaccidity to erectness and did the nearest mouth suck him off until his off-white load exploded into that warm body’s mouth? Did he make them swallow?

Does the man of legend ever sleep and does his penis ever quit erection? Ever does he sleep alone and does the harem of ever available women take their carressive turns on his pronounced abdominal muscles and stroke the long shaft of his penis until the load (that generations would want to insert into their vaginas) is called forth.

Does that load make women weak with desire? Do they crumble to their knees and open wide to catch a drop of his liquid life?

Those thousands and millions of little lives that are wasted in the mouth of the whores and hookers who follow around the kings of the legend, the man that every man must one day become or die,
like the men on the battlefield, accepting muzzle blasts into their stomachs and swords in their hearts.
So the masters of their battle can receive glory and be elevated to the status of legend and immortality for their desires never to die.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Can the judicious man

Can the judicious man
Bring peace to the slighted
Instill in him stillness
Of acceptance and peace?

With the grip of the law
Guide those forgotten
To their promised land
Where finally may rest?

Can this man of power
Make others yet stronger
Make their lives better
Though their lacking of choice?

Can his decisions
Bring rightful happiness to all?
Does he have the power
To make others feel?

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Down the Road Again

Never thought that this day would come
It seemed I would always stay
But somehow time brought the stone calendars down
The month and days always falling away
Now that it's here I know I haven’t changed
Can it truly be the time to act?
Don’t let me be forgotten this time my love
Baby, I don't want to leave you
I'm gettin' down on the road again
Unpitching my edge-worn green tent
Though I may never see you again
God's making me change and repent

Please dry your eyes and lift your chin
Babe, don't get sad here with me now
Since I'll be gone long-long ‘fore dawn
Let me love you and show you my smile
Though things will never again be the same
Let’s make the most of our time
God’s wakeful hand has dealt the cards
And I’ve been called from this town
I'm gettin' down on that road again
Unpitching my edge-worn green tent
Though I may never see you again
God's making me change and repent

Monday, March 19, 2012

Soldier with an expiration date

Long away in the dusts of May
Where humidity is a distant memory
Like the embrace of wife and son
Where man stands daily against eternity

The march of men haunts the brave
Their orders to approach the enemy
Guns in hand futile defense
For a bullet cannot end death

On the road, on the dead dust road
Where the men trudge free
Towards their end in enemy's home
This is for you soldie,
Soldier with an expiration date

Hoping for Hills

Now that I’m goin' down-down girl
You know I'll keep it up the rest of the night
I'm goin' down, down, down, down, down, down, down, down, down-down girl
And you will never again reach that height

‘Cause every single mountain crest
Seems to lead straight 'way up to the next,
When’s he gonna round the winding road’s bend
Will this weary traveler ever rest?
What happened to the masses to everyone else,
Have the other pilgrims lost their way?
No one else was able to keep on up
He’s the best there is and’s gonna stay

While on his journey the split mountain shakes
God's hand has made a quake in no others' wake.
The rolling land quivers with tension's release
So the traveler's grip holds tight onto the sides of the crease
He keeps on singing and breathing and letting her know
That he'll make it on up and eventually show
The long-lost girl who never knew
That she deserved more than was promised to

Friday, March 16, 2012

Smooth as the rocky desert's red sand
With the sunset descending upon the rocks
Guitar in hand, he pleads with his Gods
Don't take me away it's too early to leave

I've been here my Lord but not done my part
Just give me one chance and I'll make it alright
I'll prove it to You because nothin else will do
One last chance, I'll change, is all I'm asking from You

So he sat there and played until the red sky set
When the darkness came in and found him alert
He did not stop but kept on playing
And sang himself hoarse with the wild escort
Of the coyote's howl that saddened the day
But strengthened the man as he played and played
With his guitar in hand, he found himself fraught
With that fear his Gods struck him with

On this earth, I've been but not done my part
Just give me one chance and I'll make it alright
I'll prove it to You because nothin else will do
One last chance, I'll change, is all I'm asking from You

Which Way Now?

Within those eyes
Dark blue with curls
Get lost in the waves
That let loose on you
Her eyes change tides
And this time no good
The riptide's arrived
And is pulling on out

Which way now?
She's hit the bottom baby
Which way now?
Gonna need to swim bitch
Which way now?
The sharks are coming closer!
Which way now?
Could it last forever?

Instrument Break x4

Those blue eyes swirl
With fright and flight
But she's stuck here now
There's no escape
He's got his hold
And's long let her know
He's not who she seed
He's a crazy ass too

Which way now?
She's hit the bottom baby
Which way now?
Gonna need to swim bitch
Which way now?
The sharks are coming closer!
Which way now?
Could it last forever?

Thursday, March 15, 2012

She's Crazy for It

With electric black heels
And a star on her ankle,
She knows how to move
So her legs do her talkin
When she's lookin at you
And thrustin her hips,
She glides on the floor
And never does smile

'Cause she's crazy for it
Never enough
She's crazy for it
And just can't stop
She's crazy for it
It's never enough
She's - crazy - for - it

Just watch the show

See her turn quick
See her turn slow
Legs are always in time
But every date she's late
You won't hold her back
She's always on top
When she's in real close
Make a move and hold on!


Verse 1
This life I have can
Be only mine
Though I might feel pain
Its not from you
You can't make me feel
Only I can take charge
My pain is mine
It's not from you

Those words you said
On Saturday nigh
When were were out
With friends celebrating
Those acid words
Can have no affect
For I have a shield
You cannot break

Love peace and pain
Come from within
So don't ask me to love you
Then when you feel
I've not done enough
Don't hurt yourself in return

Verse 2
When I learned
That you had left
And stayed with him
Until Sunday,
Completely shot was
My image of you
For I'd saw you
As my girl

That's when I
Came to realize
My hurt belonged to me
And wasn't from you
But came from how
I thought you should be
From inside
Not out
I realized that no one can hurt me. The real me. Only the image I believe to be me can feel hurt.
I am in complete control of my autonomy within me. If my body is controlled, so be it.
The responsibility for the quality of my life is mine and I can no longer blame anyone else for feelings I feel whether positive or negative.
Perceived offense does not hurt me because no one can touch me, the real me.

Monday, February 27, 2012

American Splendor

The Sunday gentle children laughter and softly padded footsteps and meandering familial groups,
The din of conversation and the transactions of sales and money clinking and distant dancing.
Today the boyish laughter is absorbed in interest, he smiles, eyes delicate and open for experience.
As onlookers gaze at the spectacle of a cultural citizen growing up in New York
(Because here everyone is entertainment), he knows not but the present.
In ten years to come while reaching adulthood and the struggling decision
To perpetuate his parents' and grandparents' culture
Or meld into the American pursuit of high-paying jobs and beautiful red-dressed women,
Will he remember today's Chinese red vest or the golden-sheathed sword
With the eroding fondness of the dying past?
Or will the sound of brothers knocking their dueling plastic blades
Ring with metallic reverberation and will Dad's click of the camera explode into vividness?
Will he share his culture like the warrior he is today in costume and spirit,
Sword, no longer the instrument of death, but endowed with power
To eternalize the life of a culture that has traveled to make new life in a new land?

Thursday, February 16, 2012

The Power of Anyone

Anyone has chance like Marilyn Monroe, Stephen Hawking and Ben Sherwood,
So anyone is great, just not people-are-talking-about-it great.
I advocate for the anyone,
Like Walt Whitman and E.E. Cummings do
I learned this from poets and from Leonard Mlodinow and the life of Albert Einstein
These men are just men like Aristophanes is just a man
Where random events changed their lives,
Where randomness, chance, unpredictability, lottery took hold, piled small event upon
Small event and transformed them, their work, their life into power and legend
These men could have been anyone, and, by chance, must not be hated.
Anyone persisted at what they loved until chance replaced anonymity with fame
But Frederick Smith is a great man worth as much as Steve Jobs or Bill Gates so
How will he be remembered, and does that matter
What about your anyone, 
Because I want to remember,
I don't want us to forget,
Because, next, tomorrow, anyone could be great

Thursday, February 2, 2012

To the Lovely Light

To the Lovely Light that dawn erased
And has yet been born at night,
I kneel my armored body down and
Touch my brow toward ground.

As whispers do enfold me like
The chatter of autumn's leaves,
Hushed only by muted softness
Remember dance for the ceased,

Until the cry of new-birth blasts
Forth from 'neath the stilled land,
And reached adolescence's zenith
To seek Thine radiant glow.

Then, will I, my rusted armor creaking,
Raise my sleeping brow from earth
And thanked the ephemeral Light,
For the infinite instant whole.

just listening

just listening,
just listening to their stories,
I must be there
to listen to their stories,
be the one to ask why, to listen.

I am worth the $87 dinner,
worth the $1.50 coffee.
I am worth your caress, the welcome you gave,
the risk I took, warm soup
and cookies from the oven, a perfumed bed
and your companionship to share;
warm tongues, exploring new mouths,
sharing stories of where we came from,
experiences we had
because I listen to their stories,
stories are safe with me
so I am worth it)

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Above the smog I stand for joyous breadth

Above the smog I stand for joyous breadth,
As swirling breezes grasp the air to stir
Against my flesh a mellow molten bliss
That catches brusk September leaf and twig.
I step once up again step I on toward
Life's oaken grove, that shades the shore of pond,
Which greets with lovely Sprite a dance while she
May wait away these balmy days all free.
Though soon I must my way come down from haze,
To find that Sprite and oaks for me long razed.

Hello, is what you dream

Hello, is what you dream

flight, soaring, and the suCH?
toward heaven-white clouds

(quartering with sickly ponies,
those mOments between
life's happens,
collapsing-heavy-hoof splashes
turgid-wise in mud-ded frowns)

Breathing Warm Welcome. Hot-foggy-open-circle mouth of
Welcome and bosom in to lay, with heart beats, with hot breath, with forever

(left-gone-in between torture
the moments in between Judas-cradle torture
hours-days-week torture
in that instant gone)

Warmth wakes me up to snow fall.

to ee cummings

anyone does listen,
while carpet-seated among attentive others
poems writ
by dead another
lurk invisible,
sui generis Ah!s
unshared yet

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

sometimes the magic is so intense

sometimes the magic is so intense,
we fallheadfirst intoa gully to remain trapped
(fearwrought) from escape
by some tall walls
that ants slide
and by more magic (at midnight or dawn),
then any(Gustavo or Sam)one can be free

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Where Now the Empire Stands?

Before chartered ships landed,
What was New York?

An island, cold with trees
And naked rocks?

Were rolling hills flattened
By dense concrete slabs,

And how did the air taste
In each gently retained breath?

Sweet, like deciduous maple-drip
And gentle water briskly running from

Gathered raindrop-reserve,
Where now the Empire stands?

Were shepherds singing only for
The audience of their echoes?

And did time exist?
Oh Time, because if you did,
How much younger you must have been.