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.

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A tattooed girl in a leopard skin bikini and a trucker hat lays passed out next to the pool. Her head is turned to the left and her right arm hangs in the blue water. The cup that contained her drink drifts slowly across the pool reflecting California sunshine on a forth of July in America. Today we are free. I look to the sky and smile. The smell of marijuana is in the air and the thoughts in my head are soft like unconditional love.

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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.

Trust in the ghetto

Bob Marley knew growing up in Trench Town (the ghetto) that on the street BMW stood for Break My Windows. So, when he was successful enough he said No, I think BMW stands for Bob Marley and The Wailers and he bought one. He never locked it. Everyone knew it was his car. His windows were never broken.

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Community

I was walking to the store. I walked past two homeless guys sharing a J. One yelled to me, “Great album!” I looked down at my shirt because I forgot what I was wearing and then I said back, “The world is full of kings and queens
Who blind your eyes and steal your dreams
It’s heaven and hell.”
He flashed me that METAL hand gesture.
When I got to the store, there was an unfortunately long line. The man at the counter eventually yelled, “Black Sabbath is next.” While he rang me up, he talked about his sadness regarding the passing of Chris Cornell and how his favorite song was Black Hole Sun. I talked a little about Temple of the Dog, which he had never heard of. When I walked home, I felt good. I like to talk to my people. I didn’t feel alone. I felt like a part of the community. I hope they did too.

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Let there be light

When the apartment manager showed me the place he said the hall light switch was broken and would be replaced. It didn’t really happen. The next step would be me writing a letter and putting it in his “work order mail box” and then wait until he sent someone to fix it and then sit and watch them fix it. Seemed like a lot of wasted time so I was at “the hardware store” and I bought a new switch for 98 cents. I grew up blue collar so it’s not an issue. I went home replaced it in about 5 minutes and surprise. No light. I got out a stool, got up and unscrewed the BRAND NEW light fixture and then heard the voice of god…again. “The light bulb is burned out fool.”

A drowning man never questions the color of a life jacket.

I was driving and I heard a terrible sound coming from my car. I kept driving. In fact I drove a little faster for a short time. The terrible sound went away. Thank god that problem is solved.

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.

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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