Manic Beatnik Riffing

criteria anyone?

On Musicians

Once, I saw him play Memphis blues in an old shoe-box. For all those years, I thought the powder on his face was make-up. Maybe I have grown cynical. Now, I believe that he missed his nose.

a message

Every human’s life is worth living, no matter how tragic. Somewhere in each being- regardless of creed, gender,race, illness (physical or mental), addiction, and across the spectrum of behavior- Just Wants to Love and Be Loved. God Bless Our Wretched Lives.

2 South

“Two South” Bus driver. Hardened, 50 years old? Seems like an old whiskey drunk, but he is dry, today, at work. Sharpening his mind between stops doing crossword puzzles. Punctual. Never speaks a word. Grits his teeth. Going home tonight alone, like every evening, Him and the Bottle that he is not going to have, yet, for now.

Cicadas at Dusk

Youth. The sound of cicadas at dusk making a gentle hum. I can remember the thickness of the summer air. Looking across the Ohio river into the gray hills of West Virginia. Reminded of what was the old coal town, Where you were coated in black dust after stepping outside. The old glass factory on the edge of town which had blown up leaving a spray-painted exterior. Just one of many industries that had thrived before I was born, that I had []

Haywire, (poetry with music) audio

“Haywire” Imagination run haywire Gossip evolved into paranoia. Spiritual Madness. Unseen eyes watching over me. Believing superstition. It’s like you are so hard, but it’s not true. Like you feel you are so hard, but it’s not true. Talking to the dead end side of pre-occupation, Decrepid, rotting. Unseen eyes watching over me. Running to hide. Moving to explore. Leaving all that is ever known. Desire. Simply stop. Imagination run haywire. My imagination running wild. Pre-occupation and Decrepid. You think you are []

Experiment in Mind Control (music and poetry) audio

(original composition by lil mister ted) “Experiment in Mind Control” Thought is the response of memory, And if love is merely a memory, then obviously it is not the real thing. Thought accepts and denies. Thought accepts and denies. Love is not of time. We are in conflict. And conflict can arise. Goals divide. God accepts, but my love is not of time. My love is not of time. Thought accepts and denies.. But goals divide. Love is not of time. My []

Spliced Up Punk Poem (audio)

disclaimer: Okay, I feel like this one is a complete disaster. Not what I intended at all. The words came out rather easily, wrote them down, and was too tired to make any music. So a few days later, I messed with it. Thinking , yeah I’ll make it a power punk song.. On empty stomach, I made lot of mistakes until I realized I must eat, ¬†and then call this Art (?) or Poetry (?) or Music (?). I know I’ll []

Shot by Cobain

It was the old routine. Recreation group where we board the elevator down the first floor, exit, walk down 3 sets of cement stairs, cross the crosswalk, follow the center building for a jaunt, turn right, navigate a series of warehouses-where there’s always a puddle in the same spot regardless of rain or shine, across the railroad tracks, thru the grocery parking lots, across another street to a small park where we’d sit on park benches and smoke cigarettes until the group []