Keyboard Troll



They put on a cloak at work
To hide from the nine to five
A different one designed for friends
Just to prove that they’re alive
Whenever they are wherever they go
An assortment of cloaks appear
To hide from everyone else around
And cover up their sneers
But the darkest cloak they own
Is the one they don when home alone
To hide them from the one true view
Their own reflection on a screen of blue
When they get behind their keyboard
The veils of deception fall away
Their true selves surf the webbing trap
In camouflaged search of prey
Maybe they search like predators
On the unsuspecting young at play
Maybe they scour political bullshit
To capture a validation of what they say
Their lonely eyes view their lives
From the vision of many strangers
Unaware of who gets hurt
Unaware that they’re the dangers
Infecting a teenager
Just to engage her
But the strange changer robs the manger
With his misconception as a re-arranger
Displaced perception
Wearing a cloak of deception
But he must complete a task
He pulls away his mask
Takes a long hit from his flask
To take us on his ride
The stranger is the troll in cloaked disguise
Sick and demented deep inside
But he can’t hide
He’ll never stay
If we rip the sheep clothing off his back
And lock his ass away

What Day Was That

what day



Running across the yard
Swinging on a cloud
Skinned my knees
While laughing out loud
Bee stings and baby weeps
See saws and bedside creeps
Lost inside an empty crowd
Underneath a storm filled cloud
Minutes to spare and hours to burn
Battles to be fought
Lessons to be learned
Never a concern
Except Mom and Dad
What we needed they had
Before time walked me home
Made me go it alone
And childhood left me flat
What day was that

She had long silken curls
I was noticing girls
We were all having fun
In search of “the one”
Holding hands on the beach
Heart screaming uptempo
Thumping beats of promise
Seeds of passion were growing

With loves flame a aglow
A life everlasting
Two teen hearts broadcasting
True love forever
Initials in a tree
Etched for ever in eternity
Before time turned and spat
Spat in my face
What day was that



Couldn’t wait to grow up
Find the answers I need
But as age rolls downhill
It gathers much speed
Time offers not wisdom
But makes us it’s victim
Fueled on fruitless pride
On a mindless blind ride
Like a peacock I preened
Success was my insanity
The peak of my own vanity
Until time got angry
Focused its wrath on me
Much too conspicuously
Cutting furrows in my brow
Who needs a body anyhow
Crippling my emotions
Erasing my devotions
All the lines in my eyes
Stained in tears that I cried
Now even the mirror won’t lie
In a flash old age arrived
Leaving just memories inside
With a sarcastic smile
Time tipped it’s hat……..
What day was that

A Backpack of Regrets



Gotta keep moving
But its hard to run
When your burdened
With your past
Across your back
But I run away
Its what I always do
Stuff my backpack
With another regret
Hop on the rail
Count the miles
As they pass by
Consuming time
Finding aches
Until the time arrives
To run again
Ride on the sunsets
Glide on sunrises
Maybe its time to choose
One final station
Get off the train
And sleep

Gun Lobby Oddity (A parody Of A Space Oddity)




Gun control to Major Tom
Gun control to Major Tom
Put your riffle down and put the safety on
Gun control to Major Tom

This is gun control to major tom
You’ve really been well paid
And the papers want to know how much you care
But its time to pass legislation if you dare
This is gun control to major tom
I’m asking for some laws
But your waffling in a most peculiar way
The guns on the street look different today
And here you are sitting in an ivory tower
Far above the world
And the earth looks crimson red
And the gun lobbies are overfed
Though we’ve tried one hundred thousand times
I’m feeling very ill
And I think we all now which way this should go
Tell the children that you love them
They should know
Gun control to major tom
There are children dead, there’s something wrong
Can you hear us major tom
Can you here us major tom
Can you hear us major tom
Can you hear, we’re all crying in a tin can
Outside the funeral homes
Everyone feels blue
But there’s something you can do

Gun control to Major Tom…. I understand you feel your right to own a gun is absolute but seriously, the amount of guns available is out of control. Middle school kids are carrying. We don’t want to take away your guns, we just want to take away some of the insanity that has infiltrated our communities because of your support of inaction. Think it through. The blood is now on your hands…

World Humanitarian Day, Pay It Forward

a world



Today is a day to recognize Humanitarian workers around the world, so what could be more of an honor than to help their altruistic compassion become infectious by paying it forward…….

There are many ways to pay it forward, not everyone who has experiences a string of bad luck are looking for a handout, feeling the world owes them something. Some people simply want someone, anyone, to listen to their saga, free of judgment, and lend an empathetic ear, maybe share a cup of coffee. I came across such an encounter upon a trip to LA a few years ago.

LA is not a place to be without a car but that’s how we found ourselves, in a hotel on Sepulveda Blvd doing a PR event at the Emmy’s. The hotel was very nice, like most in LA and it had all the amenities you would hope for. But we are never happy just soaking up the luxuries a hotel has to offer, we prefer to experience LA from the ground up which we quickly learned meant sprinting across intersections when the walk sign was lit because it began blinking don’t walk about three seconds after it came on. Crossing the roads were what I imagine it would be like crossing the Indy 500 with six lanes of traffic and drivers poised at their accelerators. What the Hell, you only live once or perhaps only die once crossing LA traffic, but we did want to have some breakfast somewhere away from the hotel where the normal, or actually abnormal Los Angelians had breakfast. We took our chances.

As we began our journey our first encounter was of a man in a bowler style hat, a tattered suit coat, and tattered pants sleeping on the grass just off the sidewalk. We bent down and asked him if he was okay and he just smiled and said, “Oh yea, everything is fine.” He then rolled over and went back to sleep. Being New Yorkers we were quite accustomed to this type of encounter but none the less thought it best to check on him. He seemed okay, perhaps a bit sleepy but he wasn’t hurting anyone and was cautious to be off the sidewalk. IN New York City walking is just what you do, not traveling hidden in cars and we walked just about anywhere and everywhere we wanted so we trudged on for an LA experience. We found a quaint little café, had breakfast, and people watched for about an hour.

Wanting to completely absorb the culture we just walked around observing, no where to go and nothing special to do. The sun was beginning to wake up in all it’s majesty I assume after consuming a Grande cup of solar coffee and was now beating down hard making it very hot. We stopped off and got some water then continued our walking tour of who knows where Los Angeles. Maureen wanted another tea so we stopped of at a sort of LA Starbucks. While she got a tea I got another water and went outside to soak up the local atmosphere.

The very first person I saw was the now wide away sleeping man we had encountered earlier, whose name I found out was Benjamin. I ventured over and asked how he was doing. I passed him my water not like some high and mighty savior but just as I would to a friend I came across. He accepted and thanked me and to my surprise he offered far more conversation than I had expected, telling me of his trials and tribulations back home in Indiana some thirty five years ago, and how he had come to LA hoping to make it in films. He began as a film runner, running films from one studio to another in the hopes of being discovered but he never was. Then a downsizing left him jobless. He was living in an SRO, or Single Room Occupancy hotel which was hard enough, but six months after losing his job and trying desperately to get work doing anything he was evicted. He spent one night in a shelter and woke up with nothing but the clothes he slept in because in the night someone or ones poached all his meager positions save for his bowler which he wears proudly to this day.
He finished the water then continued his story. Not being able to put on a clean shirt and pants made his interviewing harder and less likely until it got to the point that the smell of his dirty clothes prevented him from even getting to the interview stage. He eventually gave up and was now homeless and penniless in Los Angeles, he panhandled a bit, sang for coins, was willing to any job, but without the luxury of a bed, alarm clock, and shower it was difficult. To me those things were just a normal part of life, one of the many things I take for granted that are luxuries to Benjamin. Even without what most of us consider the basics of everyday life his attitude was amazing. He didn’t whine although he did at times seem unhappily nostalgic, and he wasn’t looking for sympathy, just a friend to talk to for a little while. I became that friend. Ten or twenty minutes of my time, a few seconds mili-seconds in the scheme of life meant a lot to Benjamin. He was happy just to share a bottle of water and some company.

Benjamin never asked me for any money. Maureen came over with a muffin she bought for me and without missing a beat offered it to Benjamin instead. His eyes said everything that needed to be said. The fact that two strangers took the time to listen to his story and offered him something without his asking lit a fire of gratitude in his eyes. Before he left us he gave us the rundown of the area, which area’s were safe, which were shady, and which section was known for shoot outs like the one last night. He gave us a five minute tour of this section of LA and then thanked us to go about his daily business, with a big smile on his face. I distracted him while Maureen slipped a ten dollar bill in his dirty suit coat pocket, and maybe he’ll buy something to eat or maybe he’ll buy some alcohol, I really don’t think it matters because with all the life bullshit he has encountered he deserves a little of both. I won’t judge and I hope you won’t either.

The real point is this, we can walk past those in need, I have, we can close our eyes and pretend they don’t exist, I have, we can pass judgment and decide they were probably always worthless and lazy, or we can bring them a muffin, or a hamburger, maybe a drink, or maybe even sacrifice a few moments from our luxurious busy lives to lend an ear and hear their story. Remember, many of those homeless are Vets, so don’t go waving your flag and carrying on about how big a patriot you are because you post I support our troops memes on social media, do something to help. Actions speak louder than words. And thank you to all the selfless humanitarians around the world. PEACE

I’m Free (Death Stands Naked)

naked death


They find rest as they lie in death…. Isaiah 57:2

Death stood naked
In the evening wind
Laughing in denial
Of nefarious intent
Whispering promises
Cloaked in satin sheets
My face in amusement
As I smile broadly
Reminiscing a sexual tango
Twixt the bee and the flower
Tempting flora aroma’s
Bright colored enticements
Genitalia between petals
Singing sensual to the insects
The salacious dance
Of life everlasting
Carnal enlightenment
As Death disappeared
An angel stood naked
In the glow of sunrise
Laughing happily in denial
Of her voluptuous intent
Alley cats shrieking
In agonizing pleasure
While inside my head
My previous partners
Moaning in unison
Sensual memories
Distracting my attentions
While Death creeps low
In the dark underbrush


Now Death stands naked
Dark in my doorway
Anticipating the collection
Of all my yesterdays
As well as the denial
Of my tomorrows
Screaming all around
In deafening silence
Ever so explosive
Yet never reaching mine ear
In surreptitious slight of hand
Death hath wrapped his arms
Tightly around my heart
Leading me to the sacrificial stone
Like the son of Abraham
I the wandering lamb
Of the flock of the lost
Knelt sadly alone
Until the angel returned
Humming soft rhythms
Unearthing the secrets
Of my innocence lost
She smiles so warmly
An act of comforting
Cradled me to her breast
Soft pillows of compassion
A distant echoing beat soothes me
Her song of days gone by
Come inside my love
All evil will cease to exist
Take my hand
Let me guide you
To your freedom
And a light glowed from where no sun dare to shine
That’s when it became clear to me
I’m free
Live and Love in Peace





I’ve known joy, elation, and glee
I’ve known grief, rage, and pain
I’ve cried in a thunderstorm
Sang and danced in the rain
They’re just reflections of my perceptions
Or maybe a collective of misconceptions

What is Pleasure but
Desires reaped
From joys sown
A song unbound
Waiting to be sung
With totality of heart
The harvest of jubilation
From seeds of serenity
Rising of new days
Dances of excitement
Unbreakable smiles
Basking freely in
The Absence of sorrow
The desertion of pain


What is Pain but
The unmasking of joy
Disrobing of contentment
Standing alone
Emotionally naked
Void of élan
A fallen tree cries
But no one hears
Save its homeless residents
A blind man wails
Unable to resolve
The mystery of sight
An abused child quits
Unable to resolve
The mystery of night
A foreboding tale
Of love not met
Drenched in regret

What is Regret but
Chastisement of self
Over performance pernicious
Castigation blurred in fog
The haze of poor choice
Perhaps of inebriation
Of mind or soul
Self flagellation
Unable to forgive
Your own heart
For betraying it’s secrets
To a well of guilt’s
Which quenches no thirst
A lesson learned
Not a burden to the wind
But a winged flight
To a better future
Time offers perspective
Accept it

Viva La Revolution or Still feeling the Bern



As a child of the 60’s who participated in a political revolution to help end the war in Vietnam, reduce nuclear arms, address civil rights, and generally promote love, acceptance, and tolerance I am immensely proud of the youth of America who recently joined in the new political revolution. By feeling the Bern you have made your voices heard loud across the country. You have all worked so hard, so tirelessly, yet so full of energy and enthusiasm everyone knows you’re there. It was emotional and empowering and gave many of us hope for the future, especially those of us called “radicals” back in the dark ages of the fifties.

Make no mistake, it was dark. Oh I know they make it sound like all the world was like Leave it To beaver or Father Knows Best with white picket fences and a surplus of cash, but here’s the reality. We had senator Joe McCarthy who formed the House Un-American committee which allowed the government free of punity to accuse, subdue, and try in a court anyone they even suspected of having close ties to Russia or Communism. He ruined many careers and many lives with his absurd paranoid accusations. We had contingency plans for when the Russians sent nuclear bombs to our country. In many of the southern states African Americans where called “Colored folks” and had to use separate drinking fountains and bathrooms, were often refused medical help from “Whites Only” hospitals and service from Whites Only food establishments. Other minorities were refused jobs in favor of less qualified whites and the government had zero transparency. We could go off and die in a war because our birthdays fell on a poor lottery number yet we couldn’t vote. Businesses and corporations were free to pollute the air and water at will regardless of how it effected the earth. Then the 60’s came calling and a political revolution was in the air. So while many look back on the 60’s as the turbulent decade in which the youth was blinded by drugs the truth is we made major strides in social equality. Not total, but significant. We held the government responsible for the deaths of American children they forced to fight in Vietnam. We forced them to reduce nuclear arms. That’s how social revolution works, a give and take. We took some rather large steps which seem to fade into the pop culture of drugs, sex, and rock and roll. We also took some steps backwards, between assassinations and the banning or imprisonment of our political leaders. It wasn’t perfect, but in the end we pushed the lines in the sand forward and continued challenging until too many of us either got caught up in the seductive world of greed or became complacent. I myself fell into the category of complacency because radicals became time warped burnt out hippies.

I understand how deflated many of you feel, we felt the same faced with defeats like the re-election of Nixon and the escalation of war but in the end we prevailed. Because revolutions aren’t exact, have no synchronistic movement, revolutions are choppy and irregular. I am also incredibly proud that it was Bernie Sanders, someone from a generation that won’t benefit personally from a revolution was able to garner the attention, compassion, and trust of the youth of America. Please understand one thing, Bernie did not sell you out. Bernie took a strategic hit for his cause because he knows that revolutions are devised of a few steps forward and then a step or two backward. Revolutions need to grow and nurture, learn how to walk. Bernie suffered a great personal sacrifice by stepping aside because he understands the bigger fight is to prevent us from embracing those backward ideals of the 50’s, which is where we will be headed if Trump wins. Not to mention losing all our status and integrity in the global world where things now travel at warp speed due to technology.

No one is more disappointed than Bernie himself. Not so much about not being president although I’m sure that stings, but disappointed in himself for not being able to carry you into victory. Hear this, your revolution is not over. It has taken a setback but it’s not over. It will however end if you allow a dictatorial candidate into office. A candidate who would be happy to have things the way they were before my generations political revolution. I’ll be the first to admit that far too many of the radicals of the 60’s Turned On and Tuned In really did Drop Out and part of the problem we fought hard to eradicate. Partly it was because we depended too much on using drugs as a means of angering the status quo, I can’t tell you how much fun it was to piss off my father by growing my hair long despite his objections and openly embracing Liberal ideals. It was also partly because as time goes by many people tend to forget that we are all one of the same, a part of a whole, and begin to wonder what’s in it for us personally. You have the power to end our complacency and continue your revolution, but you need to believe that your battlefield has changed, and not voting for Hillary isn’t a place to express your outrage but what Bernie would expect. Pleasedon’t give up the ground you’ve gained by allowing a giant step backward.
I am also very proud of how the youth of America has evolved culturally, become far more tolerant than days gone by. For the most part you embrace all religions or non-religions, all ethnicities, the LGBTQ community and you show compassion for one another as well as this magnificent planet our species has treated so poorly. Kudos’s to you, the young generation that will inherit a less than perfect world. Forward your generation as many leaps as you can, the entire globe will be better for your continues efforts.
Dig on this……The unfortunate truth in our country is that most of our modern presidential elections have come down to the lesser of two evils. In this particular election the more evil candidate, the one who can and will inflict the most damage to American society is glaringly obvious. His name alone emotes imagery of hate, anger, and violence, as well as a complete disregard for the ecology or rights of any and every culture that isn’t his own. At any rate, its your world now, and you will be influential in shaping the future of your world. I would have voted for Bernie, but The Bern is voting for Hillary so I’m chill with The Hill, hoping that Bernie will continue to have a strong voice for all of you…. Peace and

The Quintessential Preacher and The Existential Baker



He entered the room
With a lingering scent
Of superiority
I sat in my chair
With a lingering sense
Of doubt
My son he began
I’m here to save you
Pray tell preacher
Who said I need saving
Your dark soul screams
My son I can help
Give forgiveness and salvation
Absolve you of evil deeds
I thought him self righteous
Dose not everyone have deeds
In need of forgiveness
Even you my dark friend
Why me your holy orator
The preacher sat down
Removed his hat
Placed a black book on my table
You like to read my son
An avid reader since I can remember I offered
Well reading is a path to enlightenments isn’t it
I seek truths about myself and others in books
Sometimes you need to read into the abyss
The preacher proudly thumped his Bible
This here book, my Bible, have you ever read it
Yes preacher I love fiction
My son, this is not fiction
It is divine history
This is life
The book of all truths
The greatest book ever written
Impossible I protested
He looked at me with incredulous curiosity
Nothing is impossible my boy
Well then if nothing is impossible preacher
Write a book greater than this one
Showing some frustration he angled deeper into my psyche
To attempt anything greater than the Lords work is blasphemy
Perhaps when you read it the evil was within you
Read it again and perhaps you will understand
I have read it preacher, I found it full of discrepancies
As well as hypocritical concepts
My son I beg of you to read it with me
I will prove to you that no greater book can ever be written
Preacher I said, if this book is the greatest thing ever has been written
What hope have we
It has too many inconsistencies
Claiming we should love all equally
Then telling us to stone prostitutes and homosexuals
It is laced with violence as well as forgiveness
Violence does not equate to forgiveness, only more violence
Besides preacher, if nothing greater could ever be written
Then what would be the point of writing anything at all
What would the writers have to strive for
You see the world in perfect terms
Perfect when you follow the Lord
Writing my son is a form of communication that can lead to enlightenment
So are cell phones preacher, why not have the divine one send me the greatest text ever and we’ll be done
The preacher stood up, put on his hat
May God have mercy on your soul my existential wanderer
It was the greatest conversation I’ve ever had
So far

I am not anti-religious, merely anti-religious manipulation. If your religion tells you its your duty to make everyone else believe what you do, you are confusing religion with political party. Because my religion comes from my heart, my spirituality comes from within, and I am certainly willing to share them with anyone who cares to, because my religion is love and inclusion free of indoctrination. Attempting to force someone to follow my beliefs goes against my very own core beliefs and sense of spiritual self. Educate yourself, evaluate what’s important to you, and follow your belief free of the force-feeding false prophets who insist you will perish in hell if you don’t do as they do. Never force your opinions upon any other living being, and no matter how misguided they may seem do not judge. Live and love in Peace my brothers and sisters

Shady Politician




(Street/Beat mash rant designed for poetry slam)
I would rather perish in a world of love
Then live in a world full of hate
Don’t believe a word you say
But words are what you use today
To rise in your quest of a power play
Uncaring of who gets in your way
Maybe you should fold and quit
Mountain of words and a pile of shit
Twisted logic is twisted wit
Because when I strip away
The untrue truths you say
Your double standard can’t fake it
So your singular truth stands naked
Playing games with foreign spies
And along with all your pretentious lies
They will slip through the crack
Of your Liberty bell
Which no longer tolls
Yet you’ll rise in the polls
As you reach your goals
Shady Politian
I’m full of suspicion
While you bask in your own fruition
Speaking from the shadows
Hanging from the gallows
Of urban blight
Hidden from the light
Blanketed in lies
Poised for a fight
And promises lost
At a very high cost
While you share your bed
With bag of silver
Betrayed in red
Thirty shiny pieces
To hold in reserve
To smite upon the people
To the ones you serve
Must you betray us with a kiss
Shady as Shit
Cant believe a word you say
Not left not right but in the way
Drowning in your unhip hypocrisy
You really don’t mean shit to me
Your just a bureau of mediocrity
Spitting out phony democracy
You have two eyes but you can’t see
Your visions are full of atrocities
And that explains your prophecy
Kick it…….
You temper you progression
With aggression and suppression
And you need a fucking lesson or a blessing
To confessing the one thing that is pressing is
You need to have restraint
In collusion you’re just using blind confusion
To create a grand illusion with a fusion
Of dissolution but you’re cruising for a bruising
A transfusion of revolution
Which it ain’t
We’re through with your bitter attacks just give us the facts
No wait……your facts are whack
Facts you bend facts you stretch
Made up facts that make me retch
Facts so pretty facts so clean
Facts too nice facts too mean
Manufactured fractured facts
Phony facts that never ask
Does it hurt this fact attack
Or is it empathy you lack
You don’t call you send a fax
Text a message and you speak ex-lax
The only one true fact you have is that
Your twisted facts are crap

You’re not even conscious of just how pompous
You are when you prompt us and stomp us with lies
A tyrannical freak being discreet who wipes his feet
Across Wall street to dirty the sweet and meek who cry
You think you’re Goddam sacred
But your truth is flaccid and naked
When you punish a gay kid
A working Mexican day kid
You’re a racist who can fake it
But your hatred is concentrated
On every race you humiliated
Debased and debilitated
Hence our angst was recreated
You wonder why?
You’re just a white guy
Wearing privilege on your white side
It’s your skin tone
Shiny white boy rhinestone
Dancing on the gravestone
Of a ghetto you’ve never known
While you pretend you’re in the cool zone
By using a Hip Hop ring tone

You dropped a racial bombshell
And the bullshit you sell just fell
And you think your shit don’t smell but holy Hell
The stench makes us repel and rebel
You condescend atop a golden hotel but my vote can’t compel
And like I cried you hide your lies under the crack of your Liberty Bell
Do tell

Listen up
If you’re voting for a candidate because he says what’s on his mind perhaps your blind and your criteria is too low. By that misguided logic Charles Manson would make a show as great candidate because he has never had a problem saying what’s on his mind.

If your voting for a candidate because he “says what everyone is thinking” what you really mean is he is saying everything you want to hear and there is a good chance you are more of a racist than you believe yourself to be.
If your voting for a candidate because he comes up with good names for his opponents your criteria isn’t just low, it’s non existent. Schoolyard bullies were good at that and guess where most of them are today. You can’t defeat an opponent by calling them a clever name in the adult world.

If your voting for a candidate because he has a successful business you need to examine who benefited from that business. Check and see if that business person is in the habit of sharing or if the businesses fell apart to fill his bank account. You really believe he is willing to give you a piece of his pie?
Dig this, I felt the Berne but now I’m chill with The Hill because I’d rather perish in a world of love than live in a world of hate. PEACE