The Fireball Snowman

Bonnaroo 2009

Bonnaroo 2009 Fireshow Sat Night 2

Bonnaroo 2009 Fireshow Sat Night

Bonnaroo 2009 Ferris Wheel

Crowd's Anticipation for Phish Friday Night Bonnaroo

The Bonnaroo Sat. Night Skyline

Jeff Bujak with Zack and Monty late night - early morning set Sat 8

check out jeffbujak.com

Jeff Bujak late night - early morning set Sat 3

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Jeff Bujak late night - early morning set Sat 2

check out jeffbujak.com

Jeff Bujak late night - early morning set Sat 1

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the tunnel

The Fountain in Centeroo 2009

Jeff Bujak live @ Bonnaroo 2009

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The Kool Aid man says Oh Ya!

The Crowd in Purple

Girls with Glo-sticks

The Crowd in Blue Lights

The Crowd gets Sucked Out

The Crowd gets Sucked In

Kool Aid Man in the Crowd

Why am I Watching This 4-16-07

Why am I Watching This 4-16-07
(in response to the University of Virginia Shootings)

Why am I watching this
Watching bubble burst red screen
With ticker ticking and breaking news flashing
With the familiar faces
Doctor lawyer cop press
Podium cover in microphone maggots
30 - 31 – 32 dead
again
why do I watch this
listen on the radio
to this
again
it seems so repetitive
seems so reflective
anger rage gone amuck
the lost memories of being a goose not a duck
or is it – it must be
reflective the nature of war
what is this death
the answers are always better written in blood
better with the bitter taste
better with the words in god’s name
crimson river run
run over – the cup over flowing with blood
the body and the blood
the sand is red
picked on – picked out – just to be picked on
long black clothes – long black muse
blame the antichrist superstar
blame the star fuckers
the thin rails – the waif sex symbol
blame the drugs
we now see what came from watching
from follow the leader
from lead by the example - do as I say not as I do
but you didn’t say Simon says
and we are no fools
we are only the forgotten
the tossed aside
the broken bracket on the neglected ride
and who’s that harping on
about history
about god is good
about Yahweh and on and on
the miracle maker
the creator
the grand poo – bear
the master of the universe
why am I watching this
why the stats
why all the numbers
why all the same questions
fuck the questions
why no answers

Got Trenchtown Looped in my Head

Got Trenchtown Looped in my Head
1999

Where am I – where am I – sitting on soft wet rocks – feet sleeping under running stream – sun designing curving lines – blue white – ripples – dancing sun through bird chirps – I am happy

I am here – in a phone booth – romantic rain – droplets – painting glass portraits

Traffic lights

I am phoning say anything – “I gave her my heart she gave me a pen” – a knife – a brush

I am on this white field – this plane of dirt – my garden – of blossoming words – of color – of life – oh pain – oh strife – paint my blood my breath – my therapy

Where am I lost in phonics – notes of speech articulation

Where am I – yes in that trance – yes is that hush – a slave to the muse

Where am I – the veins of a maple leaf – in the roughness of bark – the softness of the path

Where am I – with my feet beating – the words of my thoughts

I am – in the red hue just before the blue of the night sky – connecting stars – drawing clouds

I am dust – scratching pictures on the black tv screen

I am happiness – laughter – and misery

I am in a silent way – monk’s dream with a jelly roll soul – these are just a few of my favorite things

I am

Luantic Transmitter

Luantic Transmitter
7-2-98

I like this place here
The day isn't clear
I have no fear
I like this place here
I like this place here

Though the end is near
Have no worries
Have no cares
Tommorow is near

I like this place here
It's sky birds I hear
Still no fear
Time isn't clear

It's a full time drifter
A sands of time sifter
A lunatic transmitter
A stolen rift here
I like my time there
I like my mind here
This time so clear
I conquer my fears
I like myself here

Telephone Poles

Telephone Poles
7-9-98

the telephone poles are my confidante
certainly not the phone
these wires break the sky
the house the forest
so easy

like I you – we - break me
I am fragile tonight
And tomorrow too
Forever I might say
I am hollow
Again I am echo
As I bang my head against the wall endlessly
A machine gun is slower
My brain is swampy horrible stench
I'd rather be under a bridge
A troll of sorts
Get the toll sit on the bench
Beg for a dime
Safe away tuck away
Save up to buy myself

I feel trapped in a box
But it's not the box they can't see
These poles come crashing
This is my bender

Where’s My Remote

Where’s My Remote

Shit I’m not even done writing this – this is only a test – a beginning – a testament – that must be confessed – addressed - this is only a vanishing point - a starting spot - soap box – preacher teacher I am not – just cosign integers – nor a remainder of blind faith – only integers – variants – remainders – co signs – and these numbers - they keep calling me – they’re numbing me – they keep climbing – never peaking just stating their facts – in double triple – quadruple stacks – of black and white – no grey in sight – and like a switch – it all turns into red tape – just a push of a button – watch as day turns to night

-- So now I’m just sittin’ here – a visionary – envisioning - crawling towards the door – as the thoughts of a draft awakes the hairs – they stand at attention - on edge – much like my eyes – roving like fingers over brail – scratching in between crevices – between cracks and the folds in the blanket – the blank stare reflection – off the TV screen – with it’s ticker – just tinkering away – instant news

-- The display is bouncing in my head – all those dot com’s - bleeps and blips – and oh I must remain calm – and grab hold of myself – mustin’ lose my grip - but the mirror is swaying – it’s bending blending – it’s lying – it’s hiding – it’s a lie – and the sky above is not blue - it’s just a drop ceiling – these four walls are breathing – coming after me – no I’m not paranoid – it’s just that I understand

-- but I’m just sitting here – looking for this fucking remote – so I can turn - the channel - make all this bullshit go away – but the ghost of it all - just won’t fade – it hovers like a stench over every laugh – it’s the memory - that just won’t go away – it’s got these fingers moving – words around into spiro-graphic - fragments of venting sessions - named saved and stored away – but for now I’m still sittin’ here

-- Analyzing dissecting their sales pitch – advertising that two story itch – the black and white of it all – with no grey in sight – but what of all these if-s – the cloudy the murky – the unclear and not all that certain – where the truth hides - behind a gossamer curtain – with it’s tiny silk threads – and highlights of dazzling colors – glistening a spider web matrix of layered theories – hypotheses and all those if’s – overlapping intersecting – running parallel in all directions – the star spangled sky - blanket wave – atmosphere ozone – I’m lost in the corkscrew milky way – of a zig zag paper burn

-- so if there is - only two sides to the story – well then – this would all seem such a waste - waste of time - Of time – I mean why – why even – massage this rhyme – why even try – why ask why – but still I try – I stretch out thoughts to carry on – questions – a quest – a labyrinth of facts – and soft untruths – all the while crunchin’ down on this baby Ruth – corporate candy bar - car advert – rock n roller – just another blink 182 bling bling Nelly ring tone – on this new cell phone – with it’s hello kitty plastic painted caddy – and wait is that the fucking weight – is money all that supply and demand – I tear the skin from my face – and scream – integrity where are you – what are - you but some shit cake infested dingle – dangling from society’s pimple invested ass

-- And I’m just sittin’ here - fuckin’ with this remote – flippin’ channels – doing the web spread search engine dance – surfin’ – always lookin’ for something – an answer – a reason – a meditation mantra trance – for the change of season – and to everything turn turn turn – always trying – picking through this – checkin’ on that – peekin’ in – screening – weaving – just clickin’ away – and I don’t find anything but misleading leads – some fake plastic trees – some porn - something about killer bees – some more porn – a ghost – a story about how a ghost was born – a whole lotta fear – and a celebrity super blog - it’s all got me pullin’ out my hair – yeah but I’m still just sittin’ here

-- cross reference - file checkin’ serial numbers – dates times – names and places – long lingering over finger print mazes – clearing out the fog – and comin’ up with just empty pages – you see - There’s many sides to the story – you see everything has been over and over - And over done – this is nothing new – this is just a redo - redundant

– these articulating pithy tricks – are only a way to soothe my mind – to shadow this pain – my skin is screaming – from a vulture-ness sun – screaming with a vengeance – a thousand years young – my soul is freezing under a silhouetted moon – and the day has just reached high noon

-- While back at the shopping malls – written on the subway walls and bathroom stalls – the prophets - seek in tongues and prose – for a dream catcher – a thread spinster – a spiral whistler – the frosted window reverberates the musac playing – on some plastic jukebox swilling – bad brain farts - spoiling the air of executive lounges – of virgin mega mobile super stores – where clear channel’s pissin’ out black blood through the air waves – and we sit back like little watered lawn gnomes – grabbing a good seat to witness the next wave of mutilation

-- Oh mutations – cloning zones – down loading – up loading – with unloading docks – a whole section on how to suck a presidential cock – while sealing a Cuban blunt – it’s a ken star caper – a white water – raffle wafer – always cookin’ up some pleads some scheme – like a baker’s crying dream – smoothing out the scene – they treat him like Elvis – a rock star – fat on his own cock bar – where the fuck is my remote

-- And yup - those were the good old days – how we all sat by and slept – too sleep to sleep sleep – the chainsaw buzz of Z’s – echoing off the big screen TV – and what’s it matter now - anyhow – no payment’s - no interest for the next 12 months – just kickin’ it here - like a chrysalis – a moth butterfly – bidding time – I’m just watching the wheels - go around and round – watchin’ ‘em slow down – and get rusty – creak twist flake and break off – making me thirsty

-- But before I quench my throat – I’m felling compelled to check some stock quotes – and the CNN – tickers tellin’ me – all about some new I-pod prop up pop band – while the picture’s showing the war – and the toll it’s been taking – all these pie graphs - pictographs and line charts – the number of dead keeps rising – and how that’ll change the whole demographic – for the new hit singe brainwashed jingle – jangle – there’s always an angel – but this time - the information highway – is jammed packed – with tossed out cookies – and used up user files – the hard drive’s – rattlin’ and sputtering – from all the pop up’s - need to defrag – have that baptismal cleansing – and now time has caught to me - like jet lag – beatin’ me down – kickin’ me down – down on the ground – and oh shit is that my remote

-- And won’t someone please answer that motherfucking - goddam phone – and what of this – this god – a concept – aren’t we supposed to wonder and ponder – but just like loyal lemming subjects week – we remain meek - well I object recant and denounce – just let me pronounce – there is no god – no goddess – no deity – no penates – no Dali llama - ta boo ta boo – no mummy - in the tomb – no sailor no moon – no Keith no who

-- what where when why and how I cry over this – ponder rewind retract – slam into it – and attack – receive resolve – relieve and retrieve – pile all the facts – and slap my shitty wit about a bit – relearn and re-reason with – turn over and cook the other side for awhile – and sit back – to watch all this shit boil bubble – fester and stew

-- it’s all in my head – it’s all in my head – is the mantra I speak – as I walk to the window – and pull away the curtains – let the grey sky roll in on me – trace the electric lines down the block – running against and through – the dead trees – mirrored in the polluted river – the sun it’s hiding now – to scared or ashamed to show it’s face – or maybe this just isn’t the time - maybe the moon has taken it’s place

-- So I’m just sitting there – I’m lazy should’ve stayed in bed – should’ve never let all these thoughts shroud my head – maybe I should’ve - turned on some dead – maybe He’s Gone or Tenseness Jed – maybe some Epistrophy instead - get lost in that piano pattern bliss – or in that smile - lost on that August day – remember summer grass blades – and the sheen from her shoulder blade – the dogs run free – with the sweet smell of gage – but I’m just sittin’ here – fighting to remember where I left that stupid remote

-- When it hits me like a rock – the ability to think has started to mock – but it’s brief like a blink – so I grab up this pen to write – to draw up some new plans – to go after the man – so I say fuck the remote and just turn off the TV – run to the computer and shut off the internet – turn off the phone and hibernate – till I’m numb – till I forget the names – and places

– all about tsunami’s – hurricanes and mudslides – forget about the missing kids – and the war – the fear – and what the bush man did – I forget who won the super bowl – and what star had a baby – a rehab stint – got divorced and remarried – or got into a brawl – because they were lit – I just forget

-- Then somehow it all creeps back in – my nose will sniff it out like a stale fart – my need to know – it just fuels my art – keeps the blood flushin’ – keeps the juice goin’ in and out of my heart – I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care – hell I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fear – all the shit goin’ on out there – I can feel it right here – and I’m just sitting here

-- Rollin’ with this dealin’ with that – as the light creeps up - to stab me in the back – but I’m just bobbin’ to a rascal – to dizzy to understand – the virtue of monk – over sonny skies easy sideways down – two three one - Whatever happened to – the last one – that waltz – a commercial – sellin’ airwaves for useless phone communiqué – it is like I’m pounding nails into the floor with my forehead – Borgisian was right - but then the chaos breaks into silence again – the mantra of those notes – the reverb of memories – it’s so cold outside – but that one phrase brings in such warm summer days – and what was it that she’d say – spiraling sweet sweet – badassssss – on - oh sweet summer daze – and confusion – its just a state of mind – an illusion - a goal to peek in at – times to brief – but such is this – another drum roll please – remember seeing James fall to his knees – just then cannonball comes back in – rolling over miles – over the hills and far away – away – away – is where I’d like to stay – on a mound in the desert that is your ocean – a mellow soul to soul – aching for only everything - if only from each other – there’s vibrations of soft solid eyes – I’m just sittin’ here - beating down time – tappin’ my fingers to another rhyme – that hasn’t even been written yet -

-- Another four dead and the ghost’s of Nixon are calling’ – the watershed is tumblin’ the prez’s lips are fumblin’ – and the secretary of defense’s jaws a flappin’ mo’ shit in the wind – can’t even duck it’s flying so free – no armor for no hum-vee – you see the dj’s spinnin’ some Britney pukin’ punk ass bitch be spewin’ – instead of some protest song – but they seem all but gone from the radio

-- So I’m just sittin’ here – flippin’ channels in my head – surfin’ the net with dread – as the head lines read - another life – ten at that - and more to come – and can you give to the tsunami refund – donate to the red cross and watch your money get washed away – like the UN for food for gas for oil for back stabbin’ fools – it feels like someone just kneed me in the family jewels

-- So who will save your soul – some godforsaken hedonist – a rapist of trust – watching as the wheels begin to rust – shit they never sleep – the hills have eyes – and it feels like their watchin’ me – somebody’s after me – is it paranoia – is it john birch – kncokin’ – unlatchin’ – un snappin’

-- Yeah I’m just sittin’ here – twiddlin’ thumbs – with these drums along the Mohawk – these run on thoughts – spewing out like a shit storm – piss warm – horrible horrible thoughts – my yahoo is tellin’ me something’s happening – something’s cookin’ – side stage back stage – like oz – the wizard is just sittin’ there

-- in the Technicolor dream – it’s drippin’ streakin’ – fallin’ - like blood from a broken nose – Ali Frasier and Jack Johnson – the forgotten – till Miles startin’ tootin’ – and then the glory comes back in on me – like Tenseness sunshine – and my grandfathers homemade wine – spillin’ down my throat – sliding down just right – and as my grandmother says – nice – and I recall the roses – it must have been the roses – so splendor in the grass – chasing butterflies – through tomato plant paths – but right now I’m just sittin’ here

-- and my stomach is turning – ideas are learning – yearning to see the light of day – big brother won’t be able to stop this – won’t be able to say – I hear the drums a comin’ – those tin soldiers and the ghost of Nixon – and why - and how many more – this is a call to arms – we are over 50 million strong – with pens in hand we will write our own will – and with this ink – we will spill more blood then any sword – then any machine gun tank scud – we will rise and take back our hill

A template of complaints about the state of confusion

A template of complaints about the state of confusion
About the relation to this mass delusion
A common mistake
Filed and forgotten
Like my name – I like my name
But everything now is just rotten

Evening news a marathon of misfortune
The paper headlines
I don’t want to read no more
The headlines bleed
With Mother Nature’s contempt
Who could blame her
No god left for me
No more headlines please

And turn the corner
Just to watch the flag draped coffin
The mourners
A mother and widow
Two kids and car payments
A mortgage
Who’s gonna take up all this tape
Surely they’ll come after it
Surely I can hear the knockin’
Don’t answer the phone
Don’t answer the door
It’s the bank

A template of complaints about the state of confusion
About the relation to this mass delusion
A common mistake
Filed and forgotten
Like my name – I like my name
But everything now is just rotten

And you don’t bring me flowers
You don’t bring me good times
You don’t bring me drugs
Now when I need to get high
And you only got can goods
And moldy bread
There is no more cheddar
No more beds for the little one’s head
No more security
No more rules to bend
We’re livin’ in a society
And we’ve been misled
The old are dying of starvation
The kids are starving for knowledge
My governments filled with artful dodgers
Maybe I’ll just move to Berlin
Make a record like lodger
Get sidetracked and then start again

A template of complaints about the state of confusion
About the relation to this mass delusion
A common mistake
Filed and forgotten
Like my name – I like my name
But everything now is just rotten

Stop Rebeling Against Freedom

Stop Rebeling Against Freedom
aprox 38" by 38"
acrylic 2008

Power to the People
aprox 14" by 24"
acrylic 2008

It was at this Point that the Foot was Put Down

It was at this Point that the Foot was Put Down
aprox 24" by 32"
acrylic 2008

How to Tear the Roof off the Sucka and 101 Other ways to Bail Out the Rich and Not so Famous

How to Tear the Roof off the Sucka and 101 Other ways to Bail Out the Rich and Not so Famous

Aprox 5' by 4'

acrylic 2008

Staining Finger Tips with Ink

Staining finger tips with ink

Another poem another day
Alone the daisy stands
And the rats dance by the murky waters
Rippling shadows
The willows wallow
And stale smell of the paper mills come to mind
It’s a different story from a different time

She went there to follow
He went thinking he finally got away
But then she arrived
He did all he could to stay
But finally caved

So still wondering what happened
And how she ended up in cali
She’s married now
Or at least that’s what he remembers
It’s just that so much has happened since then

So the memories blur like runny pictures
Staining finger tips with ink
Making prints all along the wall
Down that long hall
There’s a dog barking
And the cat’s in heat again

So this is the way it was recalled
And he spoke of how she was the one
The one who caused all this
The sorrow of this lonely pen
A quill with a blue feather
Tickling the bottom of his chin
It was all the laughter of a forgotten sin

Spider (pure dream)

Spider (pure dream)
9-6-00

there’s a girl holding on to a sea shell
she has a dead bird in one hand
the other holds a spider in web

the spider spins endlessly

on a whim
the girl motions me over with red balloons
and the sky turns to june

convulsing the bird becomes a rose
and then she lets it go

twirls in spiral – and underneath
falls to water – petal deep – falls of Niagara - arrive at noon
under a deep crimson moon

she holds my hand – making entrance grand
opening to the church – marching in with the band
she hands me the spider – and says take care

sprouts her wings – made of tulips
and rides off – on white mare

I hold the spider – as it lays her eggs
Ten thousand or more – covered in a glaze

Hatching road – valley grove
77 buick – radio plays the mac
and the tires go flat

sunset sudden –over a rainbow waltz
she awaits me there
holding hour glass
and with snidely snicker sneer
tosses it into air
smashing mirror – shards
maze to door way frame
as I enter into – I then awake

Sean

Sean 4-11-07

Are you him
Damn – well you look just like him
Right around the hey jude – album cover – photo shoot
Where’s that purple sash at
Whatever happen to the black and white grestch
Where’s your mom
Show so close to home
I thought she might show up
Her and your dad - well – well – well love
It’s nice to hear you write about love

Then the sudden – listen to what the man said
The haunting resonance of a statement
The misguided GBV reference
Alongside misconceptions – the ethos of myths

As we listen to what the man says
The young man – wearing the O’pretty bearded lady – and Costello frames
Singing about friendly fire
With melodic riffin’
The professor rippin’ - with some fripptronics
Over the steady pace – reflectively worn – in a red striped Kashmir tie
the accuracy of felt tones – keys rustling soft feather down into grove
Subtle – intricacies – like lace lines of Autumn Mist
And what was that you played
A vintage strat – with a weird headstock and an old style whammy bar
Nothing like the relic used by mr. page

and so we were all in the egg – man
goo goo ga just a goof
it is such a special place
so a thank you for your grace

prescription

prescription

I've been searching
discount chain stores
and cut out bins
out of date product
down supermarket aisles
along road construction four miles
these eyes surveying
what they've seen and haven't found
always refocusing on what's not around

I've been in and out of the house
watched as my cat chases a mouse
and realizing it's all for none and none for all

I've sifted through sand and sky
searched straight and high
for something I haven't found
went for rides on merry go rounds
listened closely for secret sounds
after and before the kiss on the lips of devotion
but it wasn't in that emotion

I've always answered false or D - non of the above
I thought it was buried right beside love
and it just rotted away
thought I saw in the smile of a girl in the park
or in the actions of a father and son playing catch
just before dark
or by the warmth of a dog
and the enthusiasm of his bark

I've searched at the bottom of the bottle
played and lost at lotto
thought I heard in a vocal of Lennon
but it was still an out take then

I sound cynical I know
but then I thought how technology is so grand
and sooner or later find it in pill form
take two and call me in the morning
I found hope in an over the counter drug

Postcards

postcards

postcards of waterfalls
and thoughts of what's on your mind
in your heart and eyes
maybe long beach walks as I long to talk
about things said and done
but most of all just to have some fun

over these growing echo's and the never letting go
of language and knowledge
there's fruit salad and evening glare
but it must have been lonely there
sand toe's and garden hoe's
yeah - back here it's all k-mart and party favors
and all and all I know I won't see you later
I miss you

sunrise and ocean tides
wave breaks and surf aches
phosphorous glowing sea weeds
back here it's all snow blowing and weed

staring up at rainbow magnets over redwood trees
makes me think of things
like waterfalls someday

The world does move on a woman’s hips

The world does move on a woman’s hips

The restrictions we put on our selves
These tender little hooks we hang ourselves from
Lost in the trance – of your swaying hips
And the quick glance – cut of tongue
through her lips – feeling enhanced

how I wish for tomorrows sorrows to be all gone
how I long for this emptiness to be all wrong
Why is it always like it is
how It is - always like it is
always like it is - how it is in that song

Cause I look at your pants and I need
this rush of blood - to get out of my head – can’t get you out of my head
rupture release the quick one – while they’re away
And no I’m not ok – and yes you wear me out
One look at you – and I know what the answers are
What the answers
What the answers are all about

I know now without any doubt
That the world moves on a woman’s hips
And she holds all the cards
So clever with her tricks
how to set the sun
put my mind at ease
and send me adrift
there is no doubt
the world moves on a woman’s hips

and those tiny promises – held so close to one’s chest
with their pithy – antics and magnified semantics
the admiration of keeping honest secrets of the accused
forgetting a kiss is just a kiss and a lie just there to amuse
in moments like these – I mean in the end - someone always has to cry
someone’s always left used

Ohh now – how I wish for tomorrows sorrows to be gone
Ohh now – how I long for this emptiness to be wrong

The Sexual Revolution Will Be Televisied

The Sexual Revolution Will Be Televisied
4-30-99

The Sexual Revolution Will Be Televisied
as blow winds meander
the moon into position
over a poison - protection - potion
for a dreamer's trump card
for a wish diver into deep shallow water
then climb out
by means of the steep of perpetual change
loosely rattling these chains
like hand cuff no shame

we are repression made
cautiously awaiting y2k
to bring back my baby
plastic made - rubber stained
god dam the shame

we fall into - instant comfort zones
of the sweet square sugar sugar candy cane
lame to the bone
i am not on loan
though sometimes i moan and groan
not to be alone - er -grrr

as i am happy
like gilmour - over waters - mason wall - who was wright
into a slow replay
here what i say
mean low down dirty shame
but i need to get laid

can't refuse the blame
of some media staged - re- arranged
play - gain - give - away
god dam the shame - blame
i'm ozzing - losing - goo - galing -lame
in this sane game
The Sexual Revolution Will Be Televisied




this poem is an im-plicity tantric metaphor

the black saint and the sinner lady

the black saint and the sinner lady

these mad men running the race to extinction
a virus growing population main stream sensation
they we're always advancing multiplying manipulating
word games into temptation over no fly zone waves
telegraphic Tele nebaka Jesus somebody save me

and stop this mad man from rambling
all about Afro - play dough -NFL - gameday
always back to the game - back after these messages
or to cut in to show Heidi some mad man rambling

screeching black board jungles
can't say toucan Sam I am green eggs and then slam
they tell you to think but don't think for yourself
just listen to the mad man rambling

on a tangent of ornette free jazz
all that jazz and then paziz you've been had
only a thin gossamer curtain made you think you
were certain but it was just someone else Mc flirtin

a spring scarlet led in hand by hand by some mad man rambling
a schizophrenic cat a mad hatter and his hat
or a chess size her cat named ca purr na kiss
owned by a silly man with a silly grin
who sat under a cold willow tree
an old man rambling
scrambling eggs a la carte
par la vous Francis Mardi Gras
where's the car the van the nice white jacket man
to take this mad man rambling to a padded cell
decorated by Martha Stewart
soft pink white sky blue
and duck ducks goose down padding but of course

hey wake up - I got something to say

sunshine yields divinity

sunshine yields divinity

sunshine yields divinity - on the inspiring wind
over the dew mist bliss - of morning din
it’s prism – a fractal display
falling on the curve of your cheek
invoking the myth - of love - to be weak
shaking walls – down to a thin powder
realizing the power - of lips kissing feet
this ethereal embracing causing a magnificent heat
our bodies – pulse with passion
under a dancing moon - fleshing out night
escaping the web of time – with it’s fading light
as I dream of you – under a starry sky
and the sand funnels through my hands
with a purpose – a vision of fate
for sunshine yields divinity
and a growing determination to win

Point upon point

Point upon point
11-30-00

silence that rings in my ears
like a device triggering gears
moving – turning point upon point
Releasing spears
Cascading through canals
to hit upon bone – oh that sound
the dull knife wound of heart
that fell upon a joke
in a clover field
crashing melody
why not then this to fall upon me
laying wounded in the aftermath
of her pheromones trap
these eyes do gaze upon the wish
the spell so silently set a drift
Weaving through faerie dust
moments flickering
longing for a touch
from lips that speak such magic
this scent hits nose on head
causing a sudden rush
causing innocent to flirt
oh pheromone travel with speed
chasing down wet dreams
making them leave in such agony
they might even scream
and she sits spinning web
this the pheromone queen

babblings in the confessional part 1

babblings in the confessional part 1

why should I lie
and hold back contempt

to release a vengeance inside
that becomes hate

then I am deserving of this lack of security
deserving of this self loath
deserving of this contained rage
deserving of this fate

then to awake to a new morning only to ask
did anyone tell the truth
did anyone feed the cat
did anyone want to love me
ha - imagine that

well I'm so tired of sex
I've been fucked over so many times
not once did I fell complete
just left alone to compete
in this lonely redundant world

so I enter a new realm
innocent laying in bed
as midnight sweat leaves my head
I fight and struggle then give in
these covers continue my sin
searching for this reality to end

then to a screaming vow
I hate you
but don't mean it
I love you
and can't believe it
this is the non - sense
I talk over and over again
I need a gun
a shot gun at that
end this misery
so you can watch it on TV
no I'll wish on a lash
some more childhood myth
that never lasts
followed with a crash
as I cash in on you

and you so full of shit
how can you stand yourself
how can you stand to kill
how can you stand to breathe
and I wish upon you life
death would be too easy

how I long for an instant
of pure and true thought
how I long to be able to care
in this world of hate
it's this wit
to the wind I spit

and as to truth
mother father
give rebirth to me
there will be no more
soul torture lie
I believe in love
I cry
the blues are too easy

and this my oath
to nothing I'll succeed
and in the end enter that guilty plea

as you continue to talk
cough up blood
that black soot inside
and wonder why

this is the way in the out
can't stand it anymore
no longer to point
as headlines read
another life another death

and what is worse
I can't change the course
I need - I want
to explode
to give into society rule
be the babbling fool
only when you mindless sheep
take up your own quill
write up your own will

for the end is near
the end is here
it's waiting for a new drug
in Times Square