It is…

I sit in an over lit café on a dark fall night surrounded by the sounds of a Juke box that has not been updated since 1988.

It’s a Time Machine that dances with my veggie burger and fries like old lovers long forgotten.

It’s moments like these when I question everything and nothing equally.

It’s moments like these when I am paralyzed in the perfection of now.

It’s moments like these when the silence is louder than love.

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Carpeted in the wall to wall American dream

The full moon looked down on me against the tropical night.

It’s reflections danced on my jack-o’-lantern mind singing songs written on stolen stationery from a cheap hotel that looked out on a highway with a number long since forgotten.

Deep in the shag of loneliness, carpeted in the wall to wall American dream we sit and contemplate our physical lives that play over and over like a radio station not quite in tune.

Seeing all the answers like smoke rings that shift under the light breeze of refrigerated air.

Get your wings

I sat in a nearly empty wing of the Colorado airport. I saw a small bird flying through the announcements and the artificial light. I wondered how this bird got in here and what she thought of the place. She landed on the short and strangely colored carpeting several arms length in front of me. I looked at the bird and I felt human, more human than I felt in a long time. Then the bird flew away. I think it took part of me with it. Something I no longer needed. I don’t remember what it was.

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Pacific Ocean #7

The waves slapped me like the foot of God.

It was a baptism.

Under the crash of the water the only thing I could hear were the thoughts that rang distant in my head like wolves howling in the hills, love sick and alone.

I laughed in my complete lack of power as I was pushed into the rocky, sandy, bottom.

I reach the shore on hands and knees smiling like a mad monkey stoned on fermented fruit.

I looked up into the light of the sun.

Laying on my back I heard the voices of children.

They seem free.

But not nearly as free as this moment.

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Which Side Are You On?

The slam of the steel door was so loud it created complete silence. In the silence I heard a voice that said, “I’ll be right back” I kicked and screamed and beat the walls and the doors and the lies until I was exhausted. And when I turned around I realize, I was not locked in the cage. I was locked out of the cage.

Buddha in a Catholic church

I drove the winding yellow flower roads that led to the mystical bear so many had worshiped. I was doing 45 in a 30 mile an hour zone and locals passed me with conservative aggression. I made it to an early morning café and drank hot brown water listening to a man talk of the rising price of cement. I pulled my “America’s #1” baseball hat down over my eyes and sipped the warmth, hiding. I knew all along I would be found out. I can mingle with them but the nose ring is always a giveaway. One of us, not one of us. The large flat screen TV above the fireplace played CNN horror stories and I didn’t care. Even in satisfaction we can find dissatisfaction. Some find satisfaction in dissatisfaction. I sat like a Buddha in a Catholic church. Simple and happy to be… anywhere.ontheroad. Simple and happy to be… anywhere.

Poem #28

I sat in the car passing time one block south of Sunset Blvd.
The mechanic light was on and I was listening to some 1970s Latin music waiting for my next class and a little pain in my heart to pass.
A purple flower fell from the sky and dropped on my windshield. The sun shined down on my eyes.
It was  5:09pm on a Tuesday and for a moment I felt the presence of g-d.

Scream

It’s an argument that swings in the black hearts of chaos.
Warm, like rats leaving wooden ships that burn in the dark soul of human terror.
Like the first monkey to scream, stop! stop!
He’s eaten by the snake that crawled through the dark of night hunger to pluck him from the tree.
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Power

It was 7 AM and I was driving north on the 101 freeway. It had been raining for a couple weeks, maybe more. We were feeling isolated. The steam and the mist glazed the green mountains. It reminded me of the hobbit books I never actually read, but saw a couple of the movies. If you listen to enough Led Zeppelin you don’t really need to read the books since they stole from Tolkien about as much as they stole from the Blues masters. I exited the 170 at Burbank. I downshifted and realized that Mad Max and I are probably the last people that drive stick shift. I thought about that ring, the ring that hobbit had. Does power truly corrupt? I’d like to give it a test. Where is  my precious?

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The power of stillness

I was driving west on Sunset Boulevard.
The sun was warm on my left arm as I crossed into Echo Park.
I could smell the street vendors cooking and it set me at ease.
You’re not gonna smell that in West Hollywood.
The clouds in the sky looked like pillows offering me comfort I didn’t know was even available.
For a moment I was not lonely.
For a moment I was home.
For a moment I didn’t care. 
For the moment I was able to climb the overpriced skyscrapers that serve so few.
I touched the sun and it burned my soul  black like a bowling ball that had never been rolled.
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