Dave? Daves Not Here…



By J.T. Hilltop

All day long I’ve been hearing and seeing people say that David Bowie was extremely good at re-inventing himself. Personally I find that to be a bullshit statement. He wasn’t invented he merely lived his life on his own terms. I think maybe David Bowie was far too original for some people to understand so they put him into compartments they can label. They invented a label for Mr. Bowie and when he exposed another piece of his personality they re-invented a new label. David didn’t invent himself he shared himself, in all his glorious facets. The only expectations he lived up to were his own and that defies the logic of those among us who can only understand people when they’re placed in comfortable sounding compartments.

Whether he was wearing an Oddity like an abandoned spacesuit looking the sell the world or busy making cha cha cha cha changes into a Cosmic Traveling Starman riding spiders on Mars he willing revealed all the components of his life with us while entertaining us with phenomenal music. All while reaching his fame. What’s your name what’s your name. David simply slipped in and out of the pieces of the jigsaw that made him such a wonderful puzzle and graciously allowed us to experience it along with him.

In constant conflict with conformity David took us on many wonderful rides each one more fun than the next. Rock, Glam, Dance, whatever the Hell he felt like exposing he did. His legacy for me will not be merely his music but his teaching us how to be brave and express ourselves as who we are not who others want us to be. Jimi Hendrix told us to wave our freak flags high but David Bowie took it a step further, not just raise your flag but to refuse to allow anyone to label your flag. It’s our flag and we wave if proudly. David Bowie will forever be both a Scary Monster…..and a Hero.


Trading In Blood

blood oil



I am a frightened misguided martyr

Crouching behind the wind of the desert

My trembling hand grasps tight my death stick

Time to man up

I thought I was ready but now I feel sick

Prepared to lay down in honor of death

I try hard to focus on the mission at hand

But I don’t understand

Why I came to die in some foreigners land

With sweat on my fingers now crusted with sand

Ready to finish what someone else started

No place to be when you’re of the good hearted

I have to kill to liberate this land

And I have no idea where the fuck I am

Or why


Trained to kill

Trained to die

Heart of a lion

A soldier am I

Sand in my boot

Wind in my eye

Where is my enemy

I want him to die


How did I get here so angry and unsure

I’ve strayed much to far from my manger

In the name of country in the name of Christ

I’m willing to end the life of some stranger

Who am I that I can choose who should die

Who is he to decide my fate

None of that matters

Everything’s rotten

I’m trained to kill

When I get home I just may continue the thrill

Or maybe I’ll just be forgotten



Trained to kill

Trained to die

Heart of a lion

A soldier am I

Sand in my boot

Wind in my eye

Where is my enemy

It’s his turn to die


But as I peer through the scope I see just a boy

I think he’s as misguided and younger than me

Who sends a child to march straight into death

Then I remembered the politician said “We”

Well where the fuck is he?

Having family dinner while I stand to die

Again all I can think is WHY?

Trying hard to remember who told me to come here

And the reason they sold me to the grim reaper

While they are campaigning I fell into shit

They make the news while I keep sinking deeper

So a politician can stand by his words–


Make me president of the United States

I’ll increase the enemy death rates

I will put an end to war

I will destroy the terror

With the help of your children

Your sons and daughters

We may lose a few

Just a small error

Collateral damage is something to be

Collateral damage that’s me

The proud and few the dearly departed

Young men and women discarded

Up at the podium they offer a promise

All who oppose us shall rise and then fall

Bloods a small price to pay for our oil




So I shook a sandy blood clot

From my combat boot

Steady as she goes it’s my turn to shoot

Any enemy soldier I have in my sight

In my dead mans scope just off to the right

I will not allow him one day to grow older

My death stick poised on my shoulder

As I pull the trigger to cancel his life

Which now belongs to me

Aligned down my cold metal barrel

Get ready to die bitch

But wait!

A second before I take him out

Something makes me stop

Jesus Christ he’s just a kid

Just a frightened young boy

He doesn’t want this shit either

I made a mistake

I hesitated

I waited

Now its too late



I close my eyes but I see a bright light

There’s no more to feel its the end of my flight

This is the day of my very last battle

The sound from my lungs is the fearsome death rattle

I’m slipping away as all the crazy noise fades

No more killing no more raids

No more trembling in fear

Then it struck me why I was so fucking jaded

Because it’s for oil in which young kids blood has been traded




Peace is a hard concept to understand. We have to believe it, to live it, to sacrifice for it. We’ve come to believe that killing and being ready to die is the path to peace, but there is strength and bravery in using words and reason instead of bombs and murder. Be the best humanity can be and strive for peace, not war. Love Y’all, keep believing and keep dreaming. Slow and steady wins the PEACE




Viva La Revelations (A twisted tale from the unrepentant Absurdist)



J.T. Hilltop

I was always the fucking last one picked. No one really wanted me on their team. Said I was uncoordinated, too slow, and good for nothing. But I showed them. I wrote a book for the Bible. The “Book of Revelations” which ironically was the last story chosen for the Bible. Coincidence? Are you fucking kidding me or what?? Maybe you think Revelations was too fat, too slow, and too uncoordinated to play in the Old Testament but Omega of the New? Get the Shepherds Flock outta here. Ya want the true story or the bullshit stories you’ve been taught by people you have been fooled into trusting.

Well my name is John. John of Pathos and I had the visions I am prepared to share with you while in jail. Yea that’s right, jail. What? You thought we only had torture chambers back then? Okay admittedly dudes and dudettes we had some killer Iron Maidens but we also used jails. And jail is where I was at when I received the Holy Fucking Revelations!

The book of revelations is somewhat difficult to tell because its told in some rather unusual circumstances. I had been a prolific Theological Blogger in my day who had already had a number of stories published in the New Testament under my chisel name, Pontius Pontificator. Not to brag or anything but it’s a play on my own name John the Fornicator. I used Pontius cuz I was a dream to the ladies if ya knows what I mean. Anyways, some of my books were under the epistle category, and a gospel song called Psalm 43 (The P has the right to remain silent). John the Fornicator from Pathos will now begin the story of Revelations as I saw in my visions from jail. It includes the four headless horsemen of Sleepy Hollow, the Liar of Judah, angels, seven trumpeters, the beast, a dragon, a false prophet, an arched angel, and of course no biblical tale would be complete without a whore, this one straight outta Babylon. So take out your cones guys and girls, here’s the real deal scoop appeal.


One evening while I was studying in the prison library the guard tells me I got this like visitor. Now not many of my friends come by and my family disowned me so my interest is how you say, peeked. A woman, not saying it was Jesus’ Mary cause I would never do nothing behind the J-mans back so lets just say she looked quite similar to Mary Magdalene. So Mary come in and lays a snog toggling tongue twirling kiss right on my mouth. I mean it was like a cheek wrestling, saliva swapping smacker of a French kiss right there in plain view of everyone in the visitors cave. While we was moanin and groanin I could feel two slimy tabs of something slip off Maggs tongue. She tells me to swallow, something you don’t normally wanna hear in prison, but I swallows the tabs. Then she tells me I just took two tabs of Cobalt Cheer acid. Man I was stoked, that’s some ass kicking cid right there my brothers, I knew I was gonna be tripping my nuts off. I smiled all the way back to my cell knowing what was coming. I got to my confinement cave and laid down on my stone cot while my bulge subsided. (Hey, when ya gets a kiss of that nature when incarcerated things pop up and stay popped up) After about a half hour or forty five minutes or so I hears this voice. Like I sit up right away and look around but there ain’t no one there. So I lays back down when the voice comes back, this time calling me by name. “Oh Jaa-ahn” So’s I shout who’s that, who’s there? And the voice says ‘Its me John, God.’ Now I’m thinking it must be the acid kickin’ in right? I mean the walls of the cave had been like breathing for a while and this voice was like soft and almost girly. Not the powerful deep voice you’d expect God would have but the chick-like voice insists. ‘Really John, its me God’ Then he steps out from the shadows and sure enough it is the almighty himself, God. Amazing how much Jesus looked like him, I mean like the spittin’ image except like a million years difference. What else could I do? I sez, “what’s happening God?”

Then he walks straight through the bars. Not around them, I mean like right through them, like they wasn’t even there. Then he sez, ‘John, I’m going to tell you a story. I want you to write this story down and make sure everyone reads it.’ I’m really feelin ripe about now so I sez to him, you mean like a bestseller or something? To which he replies, ‘Ah…yea, something like that. But first try and get the story into the bible, because the book needs a proper prophetic ending and this will be the story of the end and the new beginning.’ Now I’m really thinking the acid must be slamming the insides of my brain up against my skull or something but I figures maybe I should like play along and I sez to him, ‘Yea, yea sure Mr. Devine Being, whatever you sez. He goes on, “When I first created everything I had seven arch angels to watch over heaven and protect it. Six of these arch cherubs were cool, but one malignant rascal, Beelzebub, was just a real pain in the sacred cheeks. Had to do everything his own way and refused to follow my directions. Finally one day I caught him rolling in the hayclouds with Gabriel’s teenage daughter and that was the last straw. I tossed him and his baneful ways out of heaven straight down to earth along with one third of the questionable residents of heaven, like my own heavenly flotilla. He went down to earth with the low-lifes and they formed a gang of goblin thugs calling themselves the Crypts. Picked the name of a sacred burial undercroft just to spite me. After that he enters the Garden of Eden, whips out his penis angling it in front of Eve like some big snake. Well of course his phallus being thrice the size of Adams Eves eyes widened, began to water and left her mouth agape which he quickly filled with an apple. He then seduced Eve enticing her to make love, five times, and that’s when all the trouble began. That was the fall of man, when Adam, teeming with jealousy and divine penis envy begins recruiting humans for his own gang to exact revenge. So I had Gabriel, a very trusted angel form a gang up here first because I knew there would someday be a major showdown and the humans wouldn‘t stand a chance. He formed the Bloods of my blood, after my sons prophecy. We call them the Bloods for short, and it created a rivalry that would be the mother of all rivalries. Positive vs. Negative, Life vs. Death, Good vs. Evil, none of them have anything on the rivalry of the Bloods vs. Crypts. One day we would have our gang lords get together for an epic rumble. This showdown will be called The Rapture. Are you getting all this down John?”

Now I knows I’m still tripping and all but I’m starting to think maybe this shit really is on the up and up so’s I keep scraping away on my stones getting down his words so I could one day write the book for him.Being an ancient journalist of course I had questions, so I asks him to explain to me how this Rapture thing is gonna go down. Then something happens that may sound like a fairy tale or a hallucination. He floats up to the ceiling an sez come on up John it will be easier if I show you”

Now I’m flipping ya know? I’m like how the brimstone am I supposed to get up there, but before I even gets to thinking about a strategy I was lifted right off my feet and floated right next to him. Honest to god, from Gods mouth to my ear he whispers, ‘Watch this. These guys can really stir it up’ A light went on and I swear to you it looked like a giant flat screen TV in HD. The images seemed so real. There was a stage with seven musicians, each one a phenom trumpeter. Al Hirt,Loius Armstrong,Wynton Marsalas, Miles Davis,Chuck Mangione,Maynard Fererson, and Dizzy Gillespie. Not just ordinary musicians each stood with a golden trumpet in their hands. The seven Trumpeters. They jammed away in like improv style non stop for about an hour. Man my head was floating! And that’s when the real show started!






The Cradle Of Civilization Gets Drunk


Excerpt from “Cosmo and The Garden Earth” ……J.T. Hilltop

Previously : Cosmo had blown up his dinosaur world and started his garden anew with far more intelligent species, although I suppose more intelligent could be relative.

Cosmo’s new species was eating and sexing, grunting communications, and even began an emotional outburst called laughing. Some particularly enterprising individuals saw a need for the power of the many and began to organize tribes or villages. These developers were quite slick and every community had them. So treacherous were they in fact that they convinced all the others that they actually wanted thses developers to dictate village behavior. They organized the best hunters go out to hunt food for everyone, the best builders to stay build more structures, most notably the mansion sized structures for the developers to live in, and any others would learn to grow and prepare fruits and vegetables so they could have awesome parties. The organizers created a form of controlling the food they called inventory. The organizers had the builders make fences, so they could trap animals and keep them from roaming off. This will be an important discovery years later during the agricultural revolution but for right now we need to concentrate on what everyone, god and human alike craved outside the cave.

Of course like most things in the ascent of man it all came down to sex. Men were judged by the size and usage of their spears. And all the time that the hunters were hunting and the builders were building and the vegetable growers were growing these organizers were doing the wham bam thank you for gathering maam with all the women. The men would come home all horny from hunting or building, or farming, and try to engage in sex. But the women of course were exhausted from satisfying the organizers all day long and feigned pains in their heads. No bedside spearing tonight Arrowman, I have a headache. “I sure hope this practice of refusing sex doesn’t last long” thought Cosmo. But the society carried on, the men satisfied with a once a month romp in the rocks. Once a month? This gave Cosmo another of his bright idea’s. He decided to mess up the organizers plans of daily sex by giving the females a monthly curse. So once a month, no sex for the organizers, period!

Now some of the hunters began to get suspicious. They watched as the animals they hunted engaged in the deed constantly with nary a headache claim. They started to wonder why they should do all the work, and the organizers stayed back with the women, and kept what they brought back for the community. They noticed that the builders had begun creating large dwellings for the organizers, and they always seemed to get the best fruits and vegetables for themselves. Why come to think of it, those organizers are locking up the animal skins and the fruits and vegetables and all the meat and fish that was brought back. It was the organizers that decided who got what, and it depended on how happy they were at the time. Now this was bad enough, but they began to wonder what the organizers did all day. One of the hunters wandered back into town mid day and peeked in the windows of the organizers new structure and was shocked. He gathered all the other hunters and told them the unbelievable sight he had seen. Every single woman of age was having sex with the organizers. Some organizers had two or three women at the same time doing the oddest things to his man plug. There was an immediate upheaval of anger…Cosmo was alarmed yet at the same time quite amused. “Jealousy! Greed! Anger! Just like tall god had warned. “I hope this isn’t a bad omen.”

Oh if only I could have talked to Cosmo. It was of course a bad omen. A rather significantly bad omen. There was trouble in River City and pool wasn’t even invented yet. The organizers were using the others to make their own lives more comfortable and as if that wasn’t bad enough, they were hoarding food, clothing and worst of all sex! The men were becoming increasingly possessive of their women and began forbidding them to satisfy the fat organizers. It was at that point in evolution that women realized that they could use their bodies and abilities as bargaining tools. The promise of some sex got them things they wanted and helped them to control the men. Some women went as far as to offer unusual sexual acts to organizers in exchange for more meat, or some nice animal skin coats. Sex had become as much a commodity as food was. Maybe even more. But the sad part of it all was how it turned some cave women into possessions. The better and more frequent the sex, the more ownership the man would attempt to have. Some even made their wives have sex with others in exchange for goods. It was a mess. Men began fighting with other men who tried to have sex with their partners. Men became envious of the one with much possessions as they would always have the prettier and more active women. Jealousy turned to anger and eventually carried over cross tribe rivalries as they attempted to steal women from each others clans. The clans began warfare with each other over which clan would get the whole enchilada. They began to form borders and set up fences to keep other out, and their women in. The warring evolved into raiding in which clans would steal and ravage not only the women, but the amassed stockpiles of food. In one such raid one clan had been run clear out of it homes so the thieves could steal at will. Some yeast had been inadvertently left out on a counter and was knocked into a tub of juice. Believing the juice to be ruined the raiders left the juice, and only the juice behind. When the clan finally returned they had nothing left but said juice. The leader of the clan spoke. “ Julia they have taken everything except this gnarly juice on the counter and we are all thirsty. We have nothing left but ourselves, our kids, and some fermented juice. What are we to do?” Julia was of course the resourceful wife of Ernesto so she took a sip of the juice and smiled. “Holy shit Ernesto, this juice ain‘t half bad. Not to mention it makes me feel just kind of, I don’t know, happy. Maybe not happy but more like I know everything sucks but I don’t care.” Ernesto noticed a dull looking stare in her eyes and a weird smile. He took a long swig and wiped hi lips. “You’re right Julia this juice kicks ass. And I feel that buzz sensation too.” The kids were whining and complaining and Ernesto was on his everlasting last nerve. He drank some more of the juice and yelled at his children, “Stop all the whining kids, and have some of this.” The whole clan drank well into the evening with nary a whine With a little prompting from Cosmo a thought struck Julia like a thunderbolt from the not yet made up god Thor. She shared her divine plan with her mate. “Honey, what if we trade some of this juice for what we lost. We can call it Ernesto and Julias jug whine. We can get all sorts of crap for this delightful beverage.” An on this day, trade, commerce, and industry were born. People began buying and selling, and drinking and laughing and even in the face of defeat, many had smiles thanks to the magic beverage. The side effects however, were a different story entirely.

It seemed that some of the people were unable to hold their juice very well, and numerous fights broke out, and numerous bad decisions were made, and numerous clan relationships began to suffer. The Cradle of Civilization was getting down and dirty drunk on Ernesto and Julia’s jug whine. Some couldn’t get enough of the magic juice, some started making their own, and of course the organizers figured out ways to mass produce the juice using the others to do the work. Once they had made enough, they locked in the inventory room. Then they gathered all the grapes used to make the juice. Now they had all of the juice and no one had grapes top make more. They decided to raise the trader cost of the juice. The very first system of government emerged. Anarchy!