Seasons Change, Northeastern Exposure

 

Through spring and summer
The leaves on our trees
Don masks of splendor
Boldly displayed thickets
Fragile chameleons of life
Poised in veils of chlorophyll
Hiding their true colors until Autumn
When the weather commands them
Strip off their sleek jade facades
Allow the leaves to glow true
In their natural nakedness
Astounding crisp colors
Emblazoned in fiery reds
Dazzled with robust yellows
Tickled with inspirational oranges
Natures fireworks to rival our own
Until the trumpet of ice chill wind
Blows its harsh cacophony
Enticing the leaves to dance and slip free
An exodus from their branches
Spinning and tumbling towards earth
Determined to enrich the soil
While the tree’s skeletal remains
Stand in defiance of the cold air
Unafraid of the contemptuous freeze
Ready to bear the weights of winter
With it’s biting chill of snow and ice
Vowing to return fully clothed
Come the loving warmth of Spring
Yet each season bears its mysteries
Autumn owning one of the best
Over the last few weeks
The oaks dropped their seedlings
A treat for the hungry squirrel
In response the grey playmates
Plant acorns across the land
Hiding them for the future
But who’s future?
In the haste of the cold
The little creatures forget
The home of their hidden treasures
Where seeds are given a chance to grow
One day a mighty oak itself
A long lasting stanchion of life
Home to generations of birds
As well as small animals
And an ecosystem of insects
Sacrificing themselves to Mother Nature
With nary a complaint they join the seasonal displays of Mother Natures Beauty, offer food and homes to any and all creatures, give us oxygen, stand tall and glorious for our ocular pleasures, and entertain us with the mystery ff the cycles of life. That’s one of the perks of living where seasons change…Live and Love in Peace

October Blue (Why Take The Children)

 

 

Grief is a bomb
It never stops exploding
Fills our worlds with chaos
Unrelenting and uncaring
Constant burning flames
Entering out souls
Our hearts
Reminding us how weak we are
Today I remember myself at my weakest
My baby girl
Taken away on this day
A beautiful shining star
Extinguished
It’s so unfair
I was supposed to be her strength
Hold her up with all my might
I held her so hard
I tried so much
I believed so strong
Poured my entire soul into my baby
Yet I failed
Still Megan I hold you in my heart
Every aching second
Of every single day
Time never passes
Not one single tick
Without a thought of you
I still don’t understand why
Many have reasoned
That you have gone with God
My baby is an angel at his side
But what need has any god of a child?
Who but the cruel and ruthless
Would erase the innocent
Not any God I can accept
We needed you here
But this isn’t about me
This isn’t about God
It’s about you
Yet still people have suggested
Perhaps God broke me to be rebuilt me
I never asked to be rebuilt
If true he took from my inner self
The most important part of me
The most true and honorable piece of me
My attempt to be her Dad
Is not unconditional love the most true?
But their God left a gaping abyss
An endless hole in my heart
No way to fill a hole that has no end
Yet on some arcane level
It was losing you that brought me to my awakening
Suffering…
Suffering is what made me who I am
All that remains now
Is my memory and
An existential mystery forever unsolved
An unanswered question asked for eternity
Why take the guiltless children?
Used as an innocent pawn
Why my baby?
She was not born to us of mere flesh
But of a longing of life
A desire to spread her wings and soar
An opportunity to exist
A chance to shine bright
Why was she deprived of life
Deprived of her own Goddam fate
Taken from us in a single morrow
I could drown in my tears
So many have I cried
Be lost in the light
So dark had my soul become
Been lost forever in the pain
So deep was my anger
Yet each day I must rise
Without your smile
Each day goes on
Without you
Everyday I struggle to wake
For without my child
I had no reason to exist
I would gladly perish
To give you a shining chance
One chance at living
But if living means this pain
I wish it not for you my Megan
For those who I share love
I continue on wounded forever
Now every earthly rotation hence
October comes at me hard
Stalking me like a villain
Reminding me of it’s power
The dominance it holds o’er me
Even with all its beautiful colors
With it’s clean crisp morning air
October darkens my doorstep with gloom
Obscuring my memories of what could have been
My Megan
Leaving me scarred
Tattoos carved deeply in my heart
All I have left now are those memories
Of a profound innocent loved shared
And the pinwheel above your new room
Which spins wild upon each visit I make
Each silent visit
Though I want to join you
I can’t sleep beside you yet
For there are others that still need me here
So sleep now my “Little Little”
I can celebrate not this October
For our memories can ease our pains
Or they can devour us
I hope for the former
The anniversary this month brings
Is forever unwanted
Yet this horrible pain
Is all I have left……
I never sleep during October
I only cry

Live and Love in Peace

GO TO HELL

 

 

Truth be told I will be seriously disappointed if once dead we are reduced to two options, either go to heaven and live in boredom or go to Hell and live in flames. Frankly the repetitious and cloying sweetness of doing nothing for eternity would drive me to Hell, which begs the question…..What happens when one goes to Hell?

 

Once I’m passed my expiration date
Where shall I dwell
Will I be delivered unto heaven
Or will I end up in HELL
In the world of Satan
Where nothing gets healed
Burning in eternal fire
Or in damnation my true self revealed
Like Dante traversing the 7 burning rings
Where consequence causes the fiery stings
No more in aimless pursuit
Of pleasures of flesh
But buried in torture
Without any rest
Kick it……

I’m a Goddam Irie ite, trying to do it right, a precious bird in flight who never learned wrong from right yet still somehow my star shines bright despite the shite….so out of spite I got into a fight crushing some poor bastard with all my might, took his life and ended his plight and that’ how I ended up a hellbound blight
So now the bitch is deceased.
His soul has been released and my chances of hell are ten times increased yet I’m at peace cause in my mind he deserved to be fleeced ….Or at least uncreased. So now my life is on lease to the devilish priest. So I deserved what I earned when my ass got burned, that’s how I learned to give up my turn and here in Hell is where I burn

 

 

The world of Satan
Where nothing gets healed
The rings of flames
Where the truth is revealed.
Find your real self in the Valley of hate
The very first second you get passed the gate
Abandon all hope ye who enter here
Surrender to me, surrender to fear
Beelzebub conquers Beelzebub wins
Happy to watch us devour our sins
Laughing and chuckling in the house that he built
Snickering at us as we choke on our guilt
Pursuing our pleasures that make us all moan
While seeking the answers best left alone
This is the sad tale the only one I can tell
If Jesus ever saw me he’d say… “Go To Hell!”
Kick it

The devil seduces us and introduces us to shit there is no use for us the he reduces us. Turns us to dust while we choke on our lust losing all trust in a fit of disgust.
Who can we turn to who to believe? We kneel and we pray as we weep we’re deceived. Here we receive the troubles we perceive and the sins we conceived. I’m going to Hell to learn and to grow, try to be pure as the new driven snow but Fuck it man I died a long time ago…… I just didn’t know

 

Live and Love in Peace

Shadows in the rocks

 

I love music but can’t sing or play a note, but as I’ve sometimes said a rhythm or melody worms it’s way inside my head asking for some lyrics, so from time to time I attempt to write some lyrics, for better or worse…

 

Scratch armed bandit
Collecting junk at night
Trying to find a balance
Get himself feelin’ right
Running with his best friend
Baby girl in flight
Shooting powdered milk
In the darkness of the light

Shadow children
Shadow chill-ill-dren
If they live into their forties, they’ll be residing in a box
Hand in hand while tripping over the shadows of the rocks
Remembering the good times
Making money pulling cocks
Never see the brightness when you’re a shadow in the rocks

 

 

 

Beat up little urchin
Sneaking out the back
Satisfied Uncle Aaron
Still moaning in her sack
Never got invited
Still, he has a knack
Of using teenage sweeties
Afraid to tell the facts
Meets her superhero
Captain America on crack
Both sinking down the drain
Victims of the smack
They don’t need food or money
It’s life that really lacks

 

 

 

Shadow children
Shadow chill ill dren
If they live into their forties, they’ll be residing in a box
Hand in hand while tripping over the shadows of the rocks
Remembering the good times
Making money pulling cocks
Never see the brightness when you’re a shadow in the rocks

 

 

 

Sick of being tired and tired of being sick
Worshiping a dime bag turn another trick
If they make to their 40’s, they’ll be living in a box
Begging for a morsel as shadows of the rocks
From the bottom of the rocks
The wretched lonely rocks
Shadows of the alley smashing the bottom of the docks
Runaways forever shadows of the rocks

 

 

Everybody hates him
Wants to see him harmed
He needs to take his handgun
Just to stick it in his arm
A little girl abandoned searching for a friend
No one sees’s a child no one raises an alarm
She’s just a geisha of the poppy
Hiding from the storm
Hopes to be a grandma
But her life won’t last that long

Shadow children
Shadow chill ill dren
If they live into their forties, they’ll be residing in a box
Hand in hand while tripping over the shadows of the rocks
Remembering the good times
Making money pulling cocks
Never see the brightness when you’re a shadow of the rocks

 

 

Sick of being tired and tired of being sick

Worshiping a dime bag turn another trick

If they make to their 40’s, they’ll be living in a box
Begging for a morsel as shadows of the rocks
From the bottom of the rocks
The wretched lonely rocks
Shadows of the alley smashing the bottom of the docks
Runaways forever shadows of the rocks

 

 

Night Tremors

 

I awoke in the eerie dark
Or maybe I was still asleep
It was far too dark to tell
Too quiet to understand
Arcane and unsettling
Something or someone
Was in my room with me
WHAT WAS THAT?
Has fear taken ownership
Am I paranoid or in a dream
Sweating from the paralyzing fear
Droplets begin to roll off my forehead
So fucking scared
FEAR
Am I gonna die!!
Oh……my……god

 

Kick it
This fear has fermented I’m mentally tormented cause the visions I’ve invented
Are relentlessly depressing
A life form unscented from someone’s Hell has ascended it may not be documented but
…..I think that I’m demented….
I’m so tempted to pray to please be represented
But my God is discontented with the sins which I’ve presented
My life is at stake
My soul to take while I’m awake for goodness sake
We all make a mistake
Go away
Let me wake
Slow it down now

 

Perhaps I was dreaming
Dark theater of the brain
Strange noises in my sanctuary
Am I alone or is someone here
My cranium keeps shaking
Tears pool down my cheeks
My reflection in the droplets
I see some movement
A tree branch? No a shadow!
Paralyzed in my bed
Make this end
Please let this be a dream but if it is a dream
What does that mean?
Are dreams simple stories our minds make up
Or are they the realties of what could be?
Why do our dreams never seem to have a beginning
Why do they never have an end….or a taste of the reality
How can they be so vivid and true yet so surreal
I don’t think I like dreams
I don’t want to have them anymore
Please get me out of here or wake me up
I want to be me….to be free
Kick it once more

 

They are a malady of the banality someone’s misplaced morality
Worming its way into my concept of reality
Oh the fucking brutality the Dream Police finding criminality
Crimes against humanity my lack of sanity has to be what it is to be
To bring me to serenity
Stripping away the inside of me a paranoid fragility
My head hurts….just let me be
In the dark absence of light so filled with fright
My heads not right
I hate those fucking tremors in the night

THE STORYTELLER

 

The storyteller unlocks the subconscious
A locksmith using memories as his tool
Reminding us knowledge which lay dormant
Sleeping in the memories of our own hearts
Wishing one day to sort out real from imagined
So we listen with intent hoping to be free
Because feelings that lay frozen in our minds
Plead day to day that they be un-manacled
Free of the fears which lock our hope away
Holding hostage that which we already know
The knowledge that dawned with our births
Stored in the vastness of our repressive minds
Inside the temples of the storytellers graveyard
Where secret knowledge is preached in solitude
So we listen

 

 

The storyteller he makes no claims nor judgments
His tales are the dreams of visitors from the night
Imaginary and manifested friends of midnight lore
Some welcome some unwanted but all unfiltered
Preying on our eager and vivid imaginations
Reaching in to unleash our suppressed emotions
To strip them naked exposed unto ourselves
He asks not to be paid in silver nor gold
Only hopes to enter into our hearts and minds
And allow his words soothe or injure wakefulness
Offering no direction nor instruction be followed
Exposing incognito the paths of our choosing
Oftentimes he tell stories of profound love
Allowing many to reflect fondly of experience
So we believe

 

 

Yet for others love never seems to be enough
So he recalls stories of deep pain and loss
Sharing the pains he lived through and died from
Exposing himself while revealing our profound grief
And in the end with the many tales he’s woven for us
He blankets us all from that darkness which resides
Obscuring from inside the desires of the incendiary
Coaxing emotions to come bubbling to the surface
In a desperate search to find our own reflection
And fix the broken parts we tried to forget
Whether memories make you sad or glad matters not
It bears no significance once the story comes to end
The teller leaves carrying our hurts without reward
Upon his shoulders to cast into his healing heart
A mutual exchange of what is and what should be
As it was intended

 

The biggest fish of the fishing rod, a thousand tales from Scheherazade
Saviors of the suicide squad that make us stop and think so hard
Should we disregard our own backyard or traipse on down the boulevard
Scary streets abandoned yards, play at risk of being scarred
Don’t blame the words of the traveling bard its only a tale
The storytellers veil to hide his wails
Be he poet or prophet or teller true
He gives freely of words to me and you
Words plucked from his heart become his art
Right from the start
He writes them down not for glory
Only wants to tell a story
To reveals our eyes to our mirror
Put perspective little bit clearer
So gather round come in nearer
Stand naked before his story moral
Thank him for his message oral
Once he’s gone only words remain
Because no one notices his barrel of pain
They only ask him to tell it again and again
Until he has no story left

 

 

TODAY

 

 

Nine fucking eleven. I wasn’t going to say a word about this Day, too many emotions. The shedding of fear for family and friends in Florida, the memories of my days at Windows On The World and all the hours spent commuting through the WTC. Everyone telling me not to forget without considering for one second it hurt me so deeply I could never forget. Believe me, sometimes I wish I could…

 

Then I started thinking about how we define our lives according to traumatic experiences both societal and personal. I was far too young to understand the implications of the murder of President Kennedy but I clearly remember how the adults were so unilaterally shocked and hurt. In my lifetime it was similar to the day Reagan was shot and for one collective night we were all Republicans, praying or chanting for him to be allright. I was far more conscious about the deaths of Martin King Jr. and Robert Kennedy as my political views were beginning to form. The trials of the Chicago eight, the civil right denial of our brothers and sisters, the emergence of a group of young kids who cared about every culture proudly assumed the name of “Flower Children”. My question tonight is WTF happened to those children? Did half grow up to be angry white racists? Seems like it to me. Many of the kids who locked their arms with mine now question If people of other faiths and cultures are worthy of the standard my one time brothers and sisters felt were open to all. WTF happened to your souls?

The terrorist attack on NYC, Pennsylvania, and Washington DC wasn’t committed by the people but of a religious cult bent on hatred. It was committed by a break out faction of Islam not that far from Joel Osteen and his band of fuck you if you’re not Christian Faction. Sound harsh? Racism is a harsh reality we need to confront. I am relieved that most of my Florida family are safe, I am relieved that the evil religious zealots have been compromised , but TBT, I have many reservations of who my fellow Americans blame to ease their minds, while turning a blind eye to their own racist assumptions.

I had a long history at the WTC. It was a marker for me, a family member, and when they fell I cried for days. I still cry when someone posts the planes flying into the buildings… It hurts me as if I lost a family member. I have so many fucking memories tied into the Twin Towers that every year it hurts a little more, almost as much as losing my daughter. It hurts…… it hurts us all, but today I am a bit more concerned My family are safe, I grieve for all the families, but I am not willing to target a specific group of people because of their beliefs, or Christians would be on my hate list too If you truly believe yourself to be a believer in God, now is the time to prove it . Jesus didn’t argue, he preached love…..Or at least that’s what I was told ……Live and Love in Peace……

 

racism,