Manic Beatnik Riffing

criteria anyone?

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 []

Yoko at John’s Art Show

I learned from my friend Chris- a casual dressed loser who has a penchant for sex, violence, and being rude, no insulting- that John Lennon’s Art Exhibit was being held close by. We got in Chris’s car- black Mazda- and drove to the exhibit listening to the Julianna Hatfield 3, one of many Blake Babies spinoffs. We paid $2 to get in. The prints were first edition on REALLY nice rice paper, band signed or stamped by John’s special Japanese block insignia. []

Dylan at the CD Exchange

It was fall. The students were back on Kirkwood bustling in and out of shops. Punks playing in the park. Street musicians hanging out at the steps. I walked to Dunkirk Square where there’s a series of stores. At the plaza stood an old beggar man. He had a gnarled hat, weather-worn face, crooked nose, a walking stick,black sunglasses. His arm reaching out. He wore a tan, long, trench-coat, and had a silver tin cup in one hand. He called for change. []

written in 1995

I went on a drinking binge for you. Call this a hoax, Made it a joke, This ain’t no lie folks. Throw that on your lap and try to move with it, groove with it, And your coolie friends I’m not let in on, If I’d have stayed with them, they woulda been gone, Call that havin’ fun, just like the rest of them. Heard you said I’m selfish. You may be right, but I’m better than butter when it comes down []

untitled, 6″ x 9″ on webpage

Dreaming about the past lives I’ve led- floating in memories, Boy and girl playing gin. reading shakespeare. Shadows of me throwing a beloved cup through a glass door that I had gathered thru the trash and laughing as the shards rained onto the floor for two days straight. Riding a big wheel on dad’s driveway at age 4.A dark trash filled room in which I wrote letters to my friends. Shaking powerful strong emotions continuing a story never told of a man []

times up

Oceans and tide in walking the thin line between sand and beach and melted glacier. listening to the roaring wind as all sorts of birds landing at the tide’s longshore current because the wind was too strong and their wings too weak… sand and water pelt my face and slows me to a calm walking pace. All this in two hours. The car meter was repeating that times up at the beach.

mark making

IF YOU COULD MAKE A PAINTING THAT JUST FLIES AWAY. MAKE A GIANT CONTEMPLATIVE BRUSHSTROKE FROM A BRUSH THAT IS FIVE FEET WIDE. WHEN A STROKE IS SMALL AND INTENSE GETS BIGGER. IT LOOKS AS IF SOMEONE IS PUSHING FROM BEHIND IT. ITS LIKE THE COLOR SCREAMS AT YOU HAS TURNED UP THE VOLUME. THAT IS A CRUCIAL MARK.

chorus of the mind

the coffee simmers.. my mind churns reflecting on my life’s past. rolling wheels. kitsch paintings. low fuel and self-esteem. wounded poet sits onstage only to embarrass himself with bad verses. ” I promised I promised to be with you forever.” “It was a one- way obligation.” Leaving him wounded. Sam loves sally sally loves steve steve loves cindy cindy LOVES HERSELF but ENJOYS the COMPANY. a Mother, past= go-go dancer, I smashed everything that you loved. I remember paranoid dreams of fanciful sex and stolen artwork from heroin []