Tag: beat poetry

Omnipresent Observer

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observer

 

Street/Beat rambling wordplay

I need to tell someone
But no one can I confide
An omnipresent observer
Whispering silently inside
I want to hide but my presence is implied
Always being watched my hands always tied
Being taken for a ride without a place to hide
Inside I hear rambling banter and clamor
Is it my doppelganger
A pathogen of anger
Attacking my sanity in cryptic profanity
It’s a Goddam calamity
Is it real or just a fantasy I’m panicking in agony
And he just keeps on nagging me
Dragging me and stabbing me
Shredding my brain and shagging me
…….Oh the humanity
Ripping apart my fragile mind
A voice so darkly unkind
The humiliation the exploitation
No alleviation from the cranial castration
From the brazen maven of invasion
Comes salvation
That omnipresent silent observer
Puts me in a fervor
Silently cursing and perverting me
Hurting and converting me
Churning and burning tossing and turning
Then deserting me
Always watching and waiting
Hating and debasing
My head is rotating and pulsating
So Goddam frustrating
I just want him to leave
Die and let me grieve in peaceful reverie
Give me one full day of brevity
Instead of bleeding in severity
But he stays and misbehaves
Maybe its I who should cease
Not take life any further
But I just stay and gleam away
In the eyes of my observer

Cost

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cost

 
I want that
How much does it cost
I need to have it
At any cost
Nothing is free
Everything has a cost
Falling in love has cost
Falling out of love has cost
Being nice and being mean
Have a cost
Being right and being wrong
Have a cost
So is cost the one true omnipotent?
The omnipresent?
Even faith comes at a cost
God comes at a cost
Allah certainly comes at a cost
Even Jehovah and Vishnu come at a cost
Cost is our one true master
To be an Existentialist or an Atheist
Comes at a cost
Anarchy costs everyone
We all pay a cost
Just to be who we are
To be what we want
For every decision
For every action
Every fucking thing we do
There is a cost
Politics cost us friendships, family, and integrity
Government is nothing but costs
Acting like the chameleon
Hiding what the real costs are
Not money but personal cost
Selling out who we thought we were
Exchanging one cost for another
What is the cost of existence?
The cost of survival?
Do we win at any cost
Must we sufferer the cost of defeat
Cost isn’t just a human condition
It’s a condition set by corporations
Through exploitation
They determine what we want
And what cost we are willing to pay
In the end it the cost of our very souls
That’s what cost us the most
Yet we allow them to set a price
On the cost of our own surrender
The cost of giving up hope
You can have peace if you’re willing to pay
It will cost you dearly
What shall we pay to overcome the costs of being alive
Only death
Never give up, never give in ……
Live and Love in Peace

SHOCK AND AWE

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shock

 

Bombs seared the evening sky
Pounding my ears in beats of death
Like stars exploding to the rhythm
Smell of burnt smoke permeates the sky
While flesh is curdled and disappears
The dermal covering dissolving into skull
Limb and life disintegrated to dust and ash
Blood oozes out from the stones themselves
While the moon closes her tear soaked eyes
Allowing the surviving to attempt broken sleep
No one that slept dared to dream that night
For when a dream ends in war it takes a life
Unable to sleep I counted the number of children
Guilt and pity were my personal insomnia
I now pronounce this inhumane to life
Till death do us part
War, humph, what is it good for?
Absolutely nothing!
Take this war and shove it

One battle is all it takes to create war
Yet it takes centuries to create peace
Why must that process always involve death
How does anger transform into a militia
It takes merely one bullet to start an avalanche
One avalanche is all it takes to dissolve a race
It takes far more than just a village to create a Peace
A climate of peace isn’t merely the absence of war
Peace is the obliteration of hate, anger, and greed
You can choose peace or you can choose war
But pull the trigger you pay the consequence
Because when you fire that first shot
No matter how justified you may feel
The dominoes of destruction begin to fall
You have no idea how many will die
Who’s child or mother will burn in anguish
You’ll never be able count the quarts of tears
Nor comprehend the gallons of blood splattered
War is a tantruming child full of cruelty and power
With no clue what to do when it gets its way
After all the blood is spilled and lives destroyed
It ends in profound discussion and compromise
Which is what they all wanted to begin with

Peace my friends is not a concept but a way of life, a culture of co-existence that can enable us to evolve as humans much more efficiently. Today we have an enormous amount of brilliant minds that can lead our species into a brave new future, but we also have an enormous amount of brilliant minds that would prefer destruction and domination. John Lennon was a dreamer, I am a dreamer, and hopefully you will never stop dreaming of Peace either. Love is love is love is love…… Thank you Lin-Manuel, for the most profound statement made so simple…..Live and Love in Peace

Forgotten Kids Of The Sand

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desert-kids

 

 

Children of the sand and blood
Weaned on the teat of devastation
Hiding amongst decaying bodies
Limbs scattered across the caravans
On the weary road to democracy
Burnt offerings on Sabbath afternoons
Trickling briny droplets of desperation
Oil oozing from their open wounds
The desert kids scream out in silence
Drying their eyes on a desert sandstorm
While micturating into the Arabian wind
No one cares about you young ones
You’re children born of the desert sin
A pawn on the global chessboard
But have no fear my friend
Bombs are coming to drill for oil
And displace you once again

 

Nighttime glows in flash of fire
Strobe light oracles of destruction
Lighting the way so they can kneel
Praying East ward for a better day
But explosions topple any serenity
While the generals smile and take a bow
Their bombs roaring thunderous applause
A child looks up and cries as shrapnel flies
With sand caked orbs the children weep
Naked and alone in the ravaged street
Without a scrap of food to eat
Because no one cares of your plight
Just a casualty in an endless fight
Children don’t equate to profits
But they absorb the sorrows of prophets
Warning that arrows of aggression fly
Burning throughout the nighttime sky
Winds blow hopeless in glassless window panes
Acid rains
Buzzing drones replace the stars overhead
Missiles drill deep for Sultans tallow
Scaring the bones down to the marrow
But we can’t hear the child who cries
We’re to busy purchasing lies

 

The desert carpet smolders with smoke
Singing the children’s lungs, making them choke
They can’t even flee the ruins created by uncivil unions
Surrounded by uniforms of atrocity and hate
Charred remains of civilization
The dismantling of an entire nation
The memories shiver and hide the guilt
The lambs left to graze in crimson silt
The generals try hard to forget the horrors they have seen
Because if they remember
They’ll be forced to hang their heads in shame
Never be able to wage war again
Nor order one more devastating attack
So they just turn their backs
Pray their souls up to the skies
So we can all shut our eyes
Not look at the abhorrent assault
And pretend the plight of the desert kids
Is really not our fault
Don’t just be anti-war, be pro-peace.. Live and Love in Peace

 

 

Lost Souls

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lost-soul

 

 

In memory of a special friend who saw the needle, and all those who survived the damage done. This is a POV piece written from the perspective of people I know and people I’ve known. Addiction is too often viewed as a habit acquired from weak willed people who are low life’s but few addicts set out to get strung out. There are many types of addictions but one of the meanest and hardest to break is heroin.
(In Stream Of Consciousness beat/street rhyme)
I sold my soul
In a dark back alley
Somewhere over there
The city of despair
Where running water
Remains constant
As the despondent
Hiding in dark corners
Amongst the unwanted
Individual and habitual
Cat and mouse ritual
Looking for release
From a world of strife
A way to erase
An unforgiving life
We just want peace
How I wish this shit would cease
Now everyday I need my fix
Started out just for kicks
Basement window transactions
3AM without distractions
We thought we were Kings of the night
But we were just kids on the run
Looking for fun until we got strung
And now we just can’t seem to get right
Enslaved to the world of dope
Trying to understand the dream
Of promise minus the hope
I was a glassine dope fiend hooked on powder self esteem
Popping tons of Benzedrine smoking and toking green weed
Ripping off a limousine hiding from the blue machine
Be quarantined and unredeemed if I don’t get my doped blood clean
Needed someone to intervene so please find that dopamine
Help me flee this fucking scene
Someone please
Save me from myself
I’m a ghost
A blank eyed phantom
Stagnant and abandoned
Searching for good times
Coping dimes
Scoring bundles
Committing crimes
Shootout in the jungle
It’s a asphalt rumble
This concrete struggle
Galleries full of users nodding
Where rigs boot blood
Poking and prodding
Trying to help me hide myself
Make me into someone else
For at least a few blissful hours

Dirty needles carbon spoon candle wax is melting soon
Arm tied off, red balloon mainline skag, shoot the moon
Milking blood in my harpoon hoping to remain immune
caught in a poppy typhoon getting sick but fixing soon
Someone better hear my tune before I drown in the black lagoon
Or am I doomed
How did I get here? Am I repulsive or simply compulsive?
It started recreational galloping the horse inspirational
Then authority became confrontational
Yet it seemed educational…. Sensational
Shooting the avenue recreational Lower Eastside invitational
Where drugs are inescapable and school was plain incapable
Of teaching even vocational or being motivational
Its reprehensible indefensible and dispensable
Yet there I was insensible
China White incomprehensible
It isn’t easy to break free
The entire culture had a hold on me
The vice no longer remains
Rid myself of the chains
Stopped the pains
Of hating the person I’d become
Desperate and always glum
What ever happened to
That boy in grade school
Who got along well with others
Loved by neighborhood mothers
Followed instruction
Why the destruction
Why the seduction
I was a well behaved child
What set me so wild?
Why was it me who survived
Why am I alive
But Randy took the dive
Why did he get the shot
That ripped through his veins
And stopped his heart
Life’s no fucking fair
Until you care
Live and Love in Peace

There Was A Time

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there-was-a-time

 

 

There was a time
When I looked ahead
Infinite roads of gold
I believed I could reach out
Grab my future
Life was within my grasp
I was the master of time
Now I just look behind
And its all so far away
So elaborately distant
Far out of my reach
I dropped so many moments
But there was a time
There was a time
With the eyes of youth
I could see ever so clear
Knew just who I could be
But I became far too many
I don’t even know which me I am
I been so many lives
Seen so very many sunsets
Since the days of my youth
That my visions clouded
Now my eyes only see
A ravaged reflection
Of what the present holds in its arms
But there was a time

There was a time
I could have owned the world
Ruled my very destiny
Gardens of adventure
Mine for the taking
Living the life
Scratching my name in the stars
To leave my mark
Now life has done the etching
Tattooed on my soul
Scars of the past
Reminding me always
That there was a time

Time is the ultimate in freedom, it can never be chained, never be stopped. There are many important times but no time is as important as right now. I’m never am sure of where I’m going or how I’ll get there but one consistent in life is time. Time is everything that ever was or ever will be and at a certain point it feels like its all happening at once. You can look ahead or look behind, your choice, but you can’t change it or erase it because time never stops or starts it just is. And was or will be. Time can be measured in seconds, hours, days, years, decades, or whatever delineation we assign it but for each of us time is right now, this very moment. There are times we recall and times we forget but one thing I’ll always be able to remember is….There was a time

Cyclops Viewing

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cyclops

 

Our values get shaped and reshaped then placed into packages through environment and experience. When I was young I was taught to be biased, to prejudice my concept of people by group. As I got to know the individual people of these groups it humanized them of me and I understood that we are all in this together. I was compassionate enough to release my preconceived prejudices and appreciate instead of judging. Before that, I had the one eyed vision of Cyclops. This piece was written during a marathon of Bob Dylan tunes and other inspirational materials. The is not politics, it’s observations….

Young love blossoms
Ganymede in drag
Hanging up a chandelier
Waving proud his flag
On his way to find a home
Post Sodom and Gomorrah
Steve kicked Eve out of the garden
The asp ate all the flora
Crucified across a fence post
Laramie blue of scarlet rain
Choked on predispositions
Same old line of shit again
They’re an abomination
Some asexual mutation
Dad denied and mama cried’
The day their precious daughter died
Sundays book is full of lies
And rainbows all desert the skies
Pius brutality would fit the bill
If idols of Gethsemane are ill
Even God can’t pay the bills
Mobs of stereotyping kills
What fuck are we to do?
Call on Cyclops dressed in blue
Now dig this

It’s murder by stereotype once justice shuts her eyes
Lost in Half Moon harbor floating on a sea of lies
The island of acceptance is now sinking in its shame
No one to protect the huddled masses lost without a name
One black sheep went out to graze
In a concrete field of dreams
Dressed up like an evening shadow
But he hasn’t got the means
To live inside the gates elite
Where snowmen dress in suits
Only reason sheep go there
Is for criminal pursuits
Rain and snowflakes mix it up
Hooded nimbus bout to burst
Not blending in with status quo
Seems to be his curse
Thin line stands at the ready
Innocence seems unsteady
And someone’s prepped to teach
Cyclops prepares a parting speech
Must protect the seeing blind
This one should be with his kind
Eating chitlins and chewing videls
Not shooting 44 caliber skittles
Walking where he don’t belong
Something here is going wrong
He has a criminal urban hue
To Mr. Cyclops dressed in blue
What a shame

Hero of the night
Void of 20/20 sight
Pulled his fears out of his holster
Using all his might
Fired bias unto the manchild
Spraying bullets far and wild
Cut buttonholes the size of hail
Left him in a smoking pile
As Cyclops writes a familiar tale
Another Mother cries and wails
If you got no money the system always fails
Will justice prevail?
Days aren’t quiet and nights are shrill
When lights go the world stands still
Stereotypes can make blood spill
No judge or jury just the kill
Distant ships lost in the rain
Fallen idols crushing pain
To her knees his Mama drops
Another acquittal for Cyclops
And the world stops spinning for a brief moment

It’s murder by stereotype once justice shuts her eyes
Lost in Half Moon harbor floating on a sea of lies
The island of acceptance is now sinking in its shame
No one to protect the huddled masses lost without a name
Accept and appreciate
Live and love in peace

Poverty Dream

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poverty

 

Children raised with hunger pains
Living in the apocalyptic rains
Of the greedy capitalist deserters
And the bankers really hurt us
They stuck their heads in sand
Then took the money and ran
Just as the industries dried up
All they’re assets were tied up
Fed us crumbs from their steaks
Leaving real lives choking in the wake
Coughing from the burning fumes of fate
Cracked walls peeling paint
Rusted hinges and broken gates
Glassless windows lockless doors
Darkened stairways where drugs are scored
Once a beautiful structure now a haven
For crimes and addictions of desperation
Not only buildings were left abandoned
Humanity crawled away from its war
Took its spoils to accounts offshore
And pretended the children were gone
Letting wall street carry on
Blaming misfortune on poverty
Because all we have is apathy
Fuck it, we don’t have to live here
Let’s pack up the shopping cart
And move somewhere else
Somewhere nice

A Clockwork Existential (An Existential Beat/Street Poem)

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clockwork71

 

 

What’s it to be then Eh?
What is your identity Alex my Droog? Does your soul know your dreams?

 

 

From the wet and dark
Arose life anew
Full of raging violence
Wild and auspicious
Unbound of rule
In a world of chaos
In a digital epoch
Where violence is king
Not much different than today
Survival of the fittest
Ultra-violence life
Sharpened with synthemesc
Opium for the Lewdies
Real Horrorshow yarblockos
Until betrayed by droogies
Handed over to the millicents
Sent to prison
What’s it going to be Alex?

 

 

What’s it to be then eh?
Loss of your freedom
Or loss of your identity
Stay boxed and shut
In a cage full of clones
Uniform yet all alone
No longer free to make a choice
Or in a cage on the street
An jigsaw of yourself
Bound together by rules
One of society’s jewels
Unique yet robotic
Unable to speak your mind
Free but neurotic

 

 

What’s it to be then, eh?
Stay as you are condemned to prison
Pacing in your container
Forced to be humble
To a servant with keys
Mind shaped in rage
A soldier of mediocrity
Counting scratchmarks on the wall
Is that who you are?
Same ole same thing
Dancing to your own tune
Singing an aria of your life
Day after day
To unhearing ears
Lost in a sea of indifference
Or would you like to walk free

 

 

What’s it to be then, eh?
Manufactured nurture
Become a sandcastle
Built by society
Waiting for high tide
To carry away your self
Stripped of imagination
A perfect Orange fruit
Spinning like clockwork
Dancing to their rhythm
Singing their song
Living chapter to chapter
In society’s book mundane
But free to pace the streets
Absolved of your of sins
Yet unable to choose evil
A hamster in their wheel
Reserved and compliant
Void of expression
Trapped in the expectations
Of societal programmability

 

 
The Ludovico Technique
Gave Alex a choice
Life In prison
Or social experiment
Complacency or individuality
Join the theater of the sublime
Leave behind the slime
Become a cog in the wheel
However unreal
But free in the street
To all the vonny soddy bratchnies you meet
Free of the evil that possessed you
Or stay behind
With your evil mind
What’s it to be then Alex?
Eyes clamped open
Medicine of goodness
Dripping tears of complacency
Exorcized evil
Yes yes yes my one and only friend
Until Ludwig Von pierced your ego
Shattered it in a million pieces
Awaiting the vengeance due
Haven’t you ever seen a movie
Or watched a magic show
Nothing is ever what it seems to be my boy
Especially choice
But rejoice
Soon you’ll be free
Just not who you used to be
Lobotomized by law and order
What’s it to be then eh?
Your nature or their nurture

 

 

 
Little Alex
Our humble narrator
Filled with rage
Locked in a cage
A prison of damnation
You’re an editorial sensation
In a Jail
Of your own creation
Your life waiting on cremation
Alienation of a generation of mutations
Locked away for committing a crime
Imprisoned to a life of time
Loads and loads of time
Nothing but time
You were brought to trial
No longer a juvenile
Now locked in exile
Unable to smile or sashay in style
Because what you did was so vile
Now little Alex is a murderer
Surrounded by hate
Either translate or eradicate
But you will acclimate to a criminal fate
Or perish and dissipate
Full on mind amputate
You’re a lost little malchick Alex
What’s it to be indeed
What’s anything to be?

 

 

Inspired by a book that once helped shape a young mans free and open mind, A Clockwork Orange in which the very basic essence of existentialism is explored. Is a person still a person once stripped of choice and free will? Is there such a thing as free will? Is it up to a society to determine nurture or nature? Is the self the central theme of essence? I have read and reread the book many times, viewed the movie many times, and both still inspire deep philosophical questions of existence and cause and effect for me. The clockwork part is easy to work out, the running of the same regimens day after day without change but the orange has duel meanings for me. Anthony Burgess explains that the orange is a perfect fruit but I maintain a second meaning. No other word rhymes with orange giving it a sense of individuality and uniqueness. When they “cured “ Alex they were in effect coming up with other words that rhymed for Alex, stripping him of his individuality and winding him up in a clockwork. Anyway, my tribute to Stanley Kubrick, Anthony Burgess, and the words that jumped off the pages and into my heart and mind….
In street beat poetry

A Backpack of Regrets

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backpack

 

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