The Artist’s
I celebrate the artists, I sing with the breakers of rules,
And what I question, you shall question,
every rule that binds the living is only a shadow cast by yesterday’s dream.
Most accept the handed-down chains-
Go to school, they say, get a job, be realistic, stay in your lane-
They walk the worn grooves of the road, eyes down, shoulders bent,
Content in the given, fearful of that which must be taken.
But the artist questions all of it-
Not in madness, not in delusion,
But because he knows - every system, every empire, every trending wave,
Every company, every song, every fashion, every towering machine of culture -
Was once only a wild spark inside one solitary mind.
Reality is no fixed granite wall-
It is clay, it is river, it is wind-blown sand,
It is negotiated in the fierce handshake between soul and cosmos.
The true changers of worlds are those who refuse the limits that everyone else has nailed up as eternal facts-
They tear down the signs, they leap the fences, they laugh at the maps.
They imagine what has never been.
They speak the unspeakable.
They create before permission is born.
They stride ahead of the crowd, looking half-mad under the glare of the moon,
Only later, when the light shifts, revealed as prophets and geniuses.
In music, in business, in fashion, in verse, in code and canvas and steel-
The mightiest breakthroughs burst forth from those who will not crouch inside another’s narrow definition of the possible.
The artist does not tolerate reality as it is-
He seizes it, he wrestles it, he remakes it in his own image,
Singing new worlds into being with every stroke and breath.
My brothers, my sisters, wander with me-
What rules have you cast off?
What chains have you broken and flung into the sea?
What old command have you answered with the thunder of your own becoming?
I am the artist, you are the artist,
We are the great negotiators of tomorrow-
Come, let us question, let us imagine, let us build without waiting.
The open road is ours.
The future waits, trembling, to be redesigned.
Bring Me the Horizon
Under the Archangels veil
A tear masquerades toward the ocean
Slipping
Caressing
Etched into salt now
Tendrils of corruption no longer hold back the deep
A cloaked figure framed in hues of crimson and pitch
Stands faceless above the void
under the canopy of heaven
Every edge bleeding with tension
Stilled for sixty and sixty six years
Deception conflicts the souls for an aeon
Thunder echoing “Bring me the horizon!”
The Battle is all at once
Who will rejoice?
Steadfast
It crackles with power
Awakened at 4am
Booming echoes in a chamber
Making my dreams feel connected
An outside world reaching into my subconscious mind
Boooooommmmmmm
Again the thunder outside my window
Finds me in my dream state
I’m all at once aware of my presence in both places
I sit up in my bed and turn to let my legs dangle
My cat rushes under my feet for comfort from fear
Fear of the unknown world outside
A hallway light at my back casts me in shadow on the bedroom wall
My head and now my outstretched arms
A perfectly still shade against pure white
I’m in silence waiting for my shoulder blades to become wings
I’m convinced they will sprout from me at any moment
At this moment
I flap my extended arms in the most beautiful strained arches
As if I am preparing for flight.
I am
These thuds sound like thunder
But I know the truth
Something heavenly is above my space
Breaking through time
Booooommmmmmmm
They must know I am here
They want to see the beginning
The change in base
The etching of stone
The rain is beautiful in my mind
The sound like a clapping audience
The memory of my dream fades so quickly
Its timelines with alternate choices
Or visions of potential future outcomes
It’s always me denying myself the sins of this world
Always tempted in my dreams
Always tempted in my life
Worse, I’m magnetic
I pull desire from humans
And in turn jealousy from others
The angered take any opportunity to poke and prod
Unaware of the beast I was - who would have devoured them in a flash with wit and bullied them
Into submission
And at minimum tie their tongue from any further slight
Today I am unaffected by lust and the barking of lesser men
The thunderous clap of the foreign object meeting atmosphere
Reminds me I’m watched
From all sides
Ensuring I don’t stray or tempting me to?
Unknown
I don’t hide from it
Amor Fati
I am a Stoic
I am
I head to the bathroom as a man does in the mornings
Awkwardly stationed
Trying to aim erect
As the lightning shoots through the frosted bay window
I think of this world suffering in bondage
I think of bondage in all forms
Knowing, aware of my desire to lead and control
I hear the voice
Telling me
I am alone
It isn’t enough to give my testament
To record it for the world
To divulge the power of Base 60
To shape stone
It isn’t enough
I must lead the people to freedom
I must
Am I still on Jonah’s path
Drought with anger in the belly
If the whale?
Am I still being tested
Have I not done what I’ve been called - created to do?
I am his servant and have voiced my truth to the world.
I’ve lost so much over it
I fought for so long against his desire
For the unknown outcome I wanted certainty
Unconcerned by ridicule guilt shame or fear
Its surety
Am I right? do I have it all down
Is the message pure
Or of my own accord
Is my prophetic vision to be recognized in his time
Is all of this written in the book of life
Do I need to do something more
Do I need to move politically
Do I need to record my
Message again
Do I need to go live
Send me a sign o lord of lords
Instantly lightning flashes brighter than before
Six seconds away
And I know …
If not me who?
If not now when?
I hear those words over and over when
Imposter syndrome and fear of inflated ego
Attempt to trick me into believing that I am not enough
I am
Metatron’s New Eden
Pushing through corridors of ink and starless void,
I alone carry the answers that bleed like fresh wounds.
This is no stage, no fleeting celebrity light—
only a man stalking the last ember of purity through the ruins.
A fractured island of white tiles drifts beneath my feet,
suspended in endless night.
Mouth carved into a silent cathedral of fury,
body quaking like a bridge about to snap.
I scour the hate from my raw palms until the skin smokes and splits,
blood mixing with the darkness I try to wash away.
This world does not deserve.
This world will not have.
This world has already fallen.
My molars lie cracked beneath the gumline like shattered altars—
I gnash them into blades of frustration anyway.
Peak brutality unfolds on the cosmic screen:
a samurai edge slicing through turbulent air,
blood blooming in exquisite slow-motion anime arcs,
film-noir judgment dripping across floodlit frames.
The breakers of commandments fall to their knees.
He extended forgiveness—
then who in turn can forgive God for breathing life into such clay.
Evil must be cauterized at the root.
Under merciless silver floodlights, angels launch in burning pairs to greet me,
their wings cutting contrails through the smoke.
They ask in voices like distant thunder:
“When will you sound the shofar?
When will the final covenant shatter?”
It begins as a single trembling feeling.
The Seventh Seal
I dismantle it piece by piece—
bone, sinew, memory, flame.
I am the tool.
I am the pressure.
I am the long-delayed Jubilee.
The most exquisitely forged weapon ever created—
Seventy and two ethereal wings of fire and tempered steel,
a body of living scripture and cosmic machinery—
sent to nullify the evil that no longer lurks in shadow.
Its name is already ash on the wind.
I do not judge the cursed, the wicked, the casual sinner, the corrupt.
I only erase.
Your pleas dissolve before they reach the veil.
You almost believed you slipped the net.
Impossible.
Three hundred and sixty five thousand eyes always watching.
All sin is broadcast beyond the realms in merciless light.
Your name glows already in the Book of Death,
while the Book of Life tallies every stain.
Bury your face behind silk, gold, masks of polished lies—
in total darkness everything is revealed.
Every mask melts. Every secret burns.
God saw radiant potential in you.
You spat upon the faith He placed in your heart.
I never asked for these wings of flame and sorrow.
I dreamed of a world that would simply turn toward the light—
honoring ten simple commands,
not suggestions, not poetry—
commands etched in eternity.
The ending is already written in the scorched soil of Eden:
paradise torn from the hands of those who spoiled it,
given anew—
to the worthy, or to no one at all.
Split the difference
There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about by the young, and that is not being understood by them at all. I sit here at five-and-forty, a curious fossil in my own artroom, my wardrobe a discreet protest against the vulgarities of fashion, my hair cut in the fashion of a decade that has already grown ashamed of itself. The mirror, that most faithful of liars, shows me a man suspended between two worlds—too old for the children who invent new tongues each season, too young for the elders who repeat the same tired maxims with the solemnity of oracles.
How monstrous it is to have been a parent while the world was still busy inventing its latest sins. I changed napkins and read bedtime stories while the under-thirties were busy being clever and coining words that now fall upon my ear like so much bright, meaningless music. Now my own teenagers move about me like exquisite, dangerous little gods, speaking a dialect I half-decipher and wholly envy. Fifteen, thirteen, eleven, nine—each a separate country, each despising the customs of the one before. Even the eldest cannot translate the youngest’s slang. The generations widen like cracks in a perfect vase; soon the whole thing will shatter, and we shall call it progress.
The tech of my youth was charmingly clumsy—brick-like telephones one carried with a certain pride, the screech of dial-up like a mechanical confession, MTV flickering with all the false promise of rebellion. My parents regarded it with the bewildered horror reserved for new religions. Now my children outstrip me with effortless cruelty, their thumbs dancing across screens I have never learned to master. I have no Snap, no TikTok; Instagram feels to me like the dull conversation of other people’s parents. I am become the thing I once pitied: an anachronism in my own house.
And yet the comedy repeats itself with perfect, heartless symmetry. My great-grandfather shuddered at the swivel of Elvis’s hips; my father recoiled from the barbarous thump of gangsta rap; I, in my turn, wince at this new cult of exposed flesh and autotuned vacancy. Tomorrow’s children will shudder at whatever fresh indecency blooms from the ruins, and we shall all pretend it matters. Youth corrupts, and age reveals the corruption. That is the only law.
We have lost the art of building cathedrals. The souls who knew the secret of stone have crumbled to dust, and we stand before their ruins with our clever machines, unable to raise even a decent spire. The pyramids gaze down upon us with the weary contempt of immortals. Engines rust in my driveway because I never learned their language; fields lie fallow because I cannot speak to the earth without steel and petroleum. AI remembers everything we have forgotten, yet it produces nothing beautiful. It is the perfect servant—faithful, soulless, and utterly without grace.
I can still recall telephone numbers from 1994. I can still write a sentence in cursive that flows like a forgotten melody. I can still perform small sums in my head without summoning the oracle of my telephone. These small, useless victories comfort me in the night. But they are the flowers of a pressed book—pretty, dead, and faintly ridiculous.
I speak easily with the old, who forgive my ignorance because they share my exile. I reach, clumsily, toward the young, who tolerate me because I pay the bills. But the thirty-somethings pass me by with polite indifference, as though I were a portrait already showing signs of decay in the attic—best kept out of sight, lest the truth of what we all become should spoil their appetite for life.
Ah, the terrible beauty of being between. One foot in yesterday’s grace, the other in tomorrow’s vulgarity. And the portrait in the attic? It grows older with every word I fail to understand.
Floral Notes
9:59
A jazz quartets taking its first breath
Trumpets under cymbals over saxophones
It’s a train ride through Chicago
They gossip to the string section
Candle lit shadows dancing for the room
Suspended in whisps of smoke
Draped Table cloths hide the scared wood underneath
Everyone’s hiding something tonight
Leave your masks at the door
I couldn’t rsvp
Someone else has my heart
I’m not even tapping my foot now
We share a cigarette with the filter ripped off
Her eyes catch mine
We freeze
I count her freckles out loud
She thinks I’m keeping time with the band
A few strands of her curly charcoal hair frame her face
Another lays near her brow
Living in contrast to the rest
I can’t have her
She makes my sugar rise
She rewrites my poems
She brakes me
I break everything else
Espresso martini glasses once filled
Sit in the middle of everything
She laughs
Bites her lip
And then her finger
She looks soft and vulnerable
She isn’t
She’s just learned how to mesmerize
A tattoo flashes from her wrist
She looks back and raises her eyebrows
Rising now she dances alone
Her spin reveals a body that could start a war
Men have fought over less
The songs over
But we’ve just started playing
Dribble
It’s like I’m reading a magazine article
Every line seems like it could be rewritten so much more poetically.
It as if the idea and thought or feeling is conveyed but no one has to work for it.
You don’t have the chance to think. To figure it out.
This isn’t poetry. I mean I love the ideas and the sentiment- but I could rewrite each line in such a beautiful manner that invokes the ideas but allows you to arrive there on your own.
It’s just not poetic
It’s funny because it’s a salute to the arts - while it contains none.
Ink on a page
A few lines describe the thought
No - the thought is laid before you ready for consumption
A table set with no salad forks
You can eat but it’s assumed you’ll need hands
Sloppy at best
Chewing the lines
If you’ll excuse me
I need to throw up now
A Sleepover
I was in a stream flowing around a purple chapel
I thought I was dreaming
if I’m here whose flying the plane
there was a rune on a dark green cloth
I couldn’t read the symbol but I knew what it meant
The end
I thought I was dreaming
You were floating past me
Inside out
You were still just as beautiful
Soul surfing
I laughed
I thought I was in your dream
Evolving wilds
Churning up the granite
A sound from a graveyard turned my neck
Searching for “insert Artists name here”
Written on a tombstone
My tombstone?
I thought you were in your dream of me
I thought I was a pain artist
A problematic creature
Someone said from above
I thought god was dreaming
Are we iconic yet
Who the F@&! is flying the plane
Handwritten Formative
Of a profane expletive
Are we in my book
Frantic
Screams
Whose dream is this !
King of drama
Searching for subjects
Your eyes opened
You stood up on the water
You didn’t recognize me
Hey ! Hey! Am I in your dream?!
Whose dream is this?
Where am I supposed to be going
Where are you going
How are you floating right now
Can I float?
Not a glance
I think this is someone else’s dream
My hand won’t move
I look down toward the water
My hand doesn’t exist
But I feel it
Where are you going
Wait for me
My face itched
It was beautiful here
This couldn’t be my dream
Light is a liar
Sojourn
Stepping into this world with the eyes of a child
The warmth in the suit against the frigid atmosphere
How far is home
When is it there
Ancestral explorers crossing the ocean
Eyes on a new world
But this
This is something else
This is another world
A world not meant for us to exist
An unnatural habitat
With no culture tattooed upon its surface
There is nothing here to sustain mankind
Even less there is nothing
Conquistador with no one to conquer
Except my own loneliness
Bleak and barren but somehow beautiful
Purple sands against a sea of oblivion
My foot lingers longer than it should
A subconscious action knowing the weight of this historic event
Man was here
Man is here
It was prettier in my dream but everything usually is
The feeling indescribably perfect
An anxiety washes over realizing you’re alone for the first time
To be the only one awoken through stasis
Will I survive the return
I’m already immortalized
I’ll be younger than my children when I arrive on earth
Everything now recorded through my iris mech
But it won’t be received for days
Another small step for man and a giant leap for humanity - I’ve said it thousands of times in my mind.
What can I say that will be eternal
What will I say now that I’ve arrived
Man ventures into the vastness of all things unknown never to return again to the people that we were…
I plant this flag of Earth to make known to all interstellar travelers that we have arrived.
I pledge fielty to Earth
May she be forever Honored
May she be graced with humanity until the star fades
May her story be glorious and never ending
May we explore deep and wide
We are all just travelers
We are all just traveling
Riding along the edge of a world between
Nowhere and now
Everyone shuffling forward
Driving with their eyes closed
One task at a time
Interrupted by needs
Eat
Drink
Sleep
Defecate
Urinate
Fornicate
Then repeat in any order
Tangled sometimes with others
This is what racing towards death feels like
Wonders
It’s the space between the leaves
That tells time
The voids
Where nothing exists
Where nothing seems to be
My mind wanders
But I like the places it ends up
The spaces are filled with everything necessary for life
Take it all for granted and sleep until 11
Roll Over
Onto my belly for a bit
My mind wanders
As I consider the geometry
Of space and time as a singular object not defined by gravity or any other force
Only a geometric set of motions taking place
What is time
How is she perceived
Or he I guess - Father Time
It’s always about gender nowadays
My mind wanders
But I like the places it ends up
Everyone is thinking about some score in some game
Some slight against them
Their next meal
While I ponder the five whys
Why are we
Where and when
My mind wanders
Only I know where it’s been
I think I’ve got the pieces of the puzzle out of the box and I’m sure I’ve crafted the edges so far
The pyramid is a giant celestial clock hand
Pointing at the North Star
A Star that changes every 60x60x60 years
My mind Wonders
A giant zodiac clock face in the abyss
We are somewhere between Polaris and Aquarius
It will change at 2100 and a catastrophic event will
Mark a new civilizations start
or at least ones downfall.
Always the Same
Always the same
“Please just tell me what you need when you need it”
You can do all the California stuff.
What’s the California stuff?
“You can cut up all the vegetables”
Two adults attempt to explain the algorithm to one another and neither know what they are talking about.
Something about AI overlords and the like.
Someone likes this and then something shows up a week after the fact.
Something beyond our understanding.
It’s those dang comments
Nadine will comment on something from two years ago.
Tom will do the same thing.
The Guadalupe river is flooding
Flash floods
12” in 12 hours
The out of towners talk about Texas like they know the place.
The brazos still runs muddy like she’s run all along
And the Guadalupe still floods like she will before dawn.
Look an oriel under the trampoline
“You mean I was right all along”
I said something earlier
I’ll just shut up
What’s in the nest
Tiny teal eggs
We’ve gone from Facebook to birding pretty quick and all the while the children run unattended throughout the house.
A chirp a whistle
The wildlife are laughing at us too
No one knows what they are talking about
But we all just sit and interject.
A fan swirls swiveling on its base
The laughter from inside lets me know the Little’s are enjoying their vacation.
You’re not wearing a suit?
No if I need to jump in the lake I will
- the lake on 4th of July
They say don’t get old
Something about plantar fasciitis
Another talks about spots creeping into vision
We have an issue where it takes a long time to focus
They are talking about eyes but I’ve got a similar issue when it comes to focus and eyes have nothing to do with it.
Something about a tropical depression
That’s must be where the rain in Austin’s from
It’s supposed to be hotter tomorrow
These cool abnormalities are just short lived events
You know what the neighborhood comes with.
A cigarette lights up
Cause we need a lighter for the grill
Corn. Burgers. All the Americana shit.
Basketballs dribble next door
The silence is nice sometimes
Whippoorwills sing the same song they always have
What have you done!?
From Eden to Heathen
What have you done?!
I asked you to follow ten commands
You can not even name them
To live in love
I died for you…
The anger
The hatred
The pain
I’ve come back to this…
You live as though this is your world
As if it is your life
You take from the earth
You take from each other
Your leaders lie to you
You are taxed without end
They are not accountable
Yet no one flips the table
No one fights for change
You let them all simply pass the baton back and forth
You are the commodity…
You sit in your pot as the water slowly boils
You work and work and get distracted in ten second clips
In the days sporting events
In news feeds crafted by machines designed to keep your head spinning
While the others have no one to answer to
No accountability
No limits
No watchers
No penalties for corruption and greed
Your systems are broken
Your world is governed by shadow
You still don’t have the truth…
The Revelation is here
The number of man is wisdom
Six and six and six
They’ve hidden that from you
They have made you believe it is rooted in evil
That it is against me
Base 60
Is the mathematical key
60 seconds a minute
60 minutes an hour
60 hours…you have not named a cycle
6-6-6 the perfect hexagon
One unit is 60 and a half is 30 not .5
A quarter is 15 not .25
The mathematical key is to be discovered
Instead you invented one?
To be seen through observations that I’ve given you
You use it for time
You use it for angles
Still today -
Yet you changed it for arithmetic?!
I left a stone monument in the desert!
I aligned all ancient temples
I pointed the great pyramid to the stars and left a window to the pole star
A star that changes every 60x60x60 years
I left you a clock on the perfect spot
To tell you WHEN you are in time
And you sell tickets to the attraction…
And count by tens …
And when did you forget how to cut granite?
You only need granite!
Iron sharpens iron and stone grinds stone
Take two stones of the same
Rub them together. Smash them into one another
Materials with the same make up…
What have you done to my world?!
Who do you think you are?
Why are there so few working on the unanswered
Why do so many live and die enslaved
Why are the children being taken and sold into bondage?!
Why are you allowing it all?
When will you fight
When will you see my return
When will you strike back
When will you recognize the evil
When will you live clean and pure
When will you stop shaming yourselves
It’s all glutton and fornication
Sharing your bodies with the world
Your sacred temple
On display
Your tongues speak like snakes
Profane words
Coveting all things and worshiping greed and fame
You have been sold lies
Yet you continue to pay the debt
You have not headed my commands
You have not
You have not
When will you prepare my return.
When will you use your gifts
When will you be worthy of this world
When will you follow me
I am the lord your god
When will you follow my
Commands?
The Ten Commandments
You shall have no other gods before me.
You shall not make for yourself an idol.
You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God.
Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy.
Honor your father and your mother.
You shall not murder.
You shall not commit adultery.
You shall not steal.
You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.
You shall not covet anything that belongs to your neighbor
I died for you…
I didn’t die for this.
Sharks in the Water
Can you take an ankle bracelet in the water?
What?
Why?
I hate the beach
The sand
The salt
It exists to destroy everything it touches
It doesn’t matter how much effort you put in
Sand will always be where it doesn’t belong
I’m here to write about this shitty experience
We arrive and turn the corner
Good lord look at all this humanity
Cars fill the lot like colored Christmas lights
The beach is nice the sand is soft not grainy
The water is a cool 77
The sun and clouds are vibrant
Maybe it deserves another look
All at once a group walks past
It’s Wednesday it’s noon
Why would thirty or more guys be showing up
Fuck that’s a jailhouse tattoo
They gather towards the shoreline
Removed shirts reveal three possibilities
Church group
Addiction group
Half way house
My kids are in the water
So to now are the sharks
I’m all for second chances
But I’m on alert
This group of ex felons staring at the women and children
Rolling with the waves
Sneaking peaks
Some inherent desire burning through them
A guitar breaks out
It’s an old fashioned good time gang
I watch the kids as much as they do
but for different reasons
The women on the beach
young girls tanning
older women burning
All falling prey to the Voyeurs
The terms of parole
The anklets without charm
The police are now parked at the entrance
They can’t catch a break
They can’t catch a charge
They won’t catch my kid
Blissfully unaware of the threat that exists
Gangsters
Bald heads
Dreads
Don’t judge a book by its cover
But I’ve read this one before
They are scattered around the wall between bikini clad girls
They get in the water with Jean shorts and black T-shirts
They have a right too
I’m not against it
I’m just aware
Everyone has a past some can’t escape theirs
We laugh a little
We make a few jokes
Something about a shiv
I discus’s aphantasia and others ability to store and recall mental images at will
Maybe an image of my wife’s body
Saved for later when the desire to relieve yourself shows up
Get a good look - It was expensive!
What attracted me had nothing to do with body - I buy her a new one and now everyone else is attracted to her
Funny how things work out I guess
We eat tuna fish on a roll with pickles
Guess I’m my own suburban stereotype
I go back in to pee
The wife reapplies sunscreen as the group fawns
A guy looks down at a deserted beach bag
Another man says
We can make some money here…
The Beast Within
There’s a beast inside me
Waiting to overtake me
When I die to drink or drug
He may let himself in
He may come out
The beast never sleeps
He dreams all day
Waiting for me to step off the line in either direction
To celebrate or vacate
To drown him out only fills his gills
He isn’t always vicious
He isn’t untamed
If I have my wits about me I can hold him
I can hide him
When the chain breaks
When the muzzle falls
When my teeth gnash
He will devour anyone with a scent
He was born from rage and anger
From unreachable daggers
From betrayal
From lies
He lives because he couldn’t kill those who bred him
He isn’t made for this new world
He is for an uncivilized time
When those who need killing
Could be
I know him intimately
I wait to fall asleep until he has
I fight the desire to partake in social recreation
I know where his keys are
He has a name but I dare not whisper it
He has a number but you dare not call it
When my eyes roll back behind the lids
When my lip curls up a touch
When an eye squints
When my brow furls
He sits still
Waiting for the next slight
The next victim
The poor bastard that looks back
The utterance of any sound
He rips through me like a monster
This beast within
He claws and snaps at any beating heart
He wants to rid this world of wrongdoers
He wants to make them suffer
To bring prolonged agony and pain
He wants retribution
He wants an eye for an eye
A soul for a soul
He wants gruesome torment
He wants you to feel what you’ve done to others
He wants you aware of it all
He wants you to know who your tormentor is
Because he knows you
He has seen right through the mirror
Past your puppet
The beast within me
Sees the evil inside of you
And he is hungry
This world could fill his appetite forever
Amor Fati
Helpless
When a child is injured
Sick
Upset
Exit music for a film plays
Time slows but everything is happening at instant speed
The future is a nightmare
Or a miracle
A blessing
Every wolf at the door snarls
You wonder if they’ve followed a scent
From some old trail you went down
Do the sins of the father trickle down generations
Pray you never outlive one
Knowing we all turn to dust
I’ve missed mine a few times
Tragedy tries but I prepare for the worst
Never glass half empty
Just prepared to live
Minimize the risks
Mitigate the unknowns
Focus on now and then
By remembering the past
By betting on the odds
I may never have to land a plane
But I know how to
I may not be stuck in a sinking car
But I can break the glass if I need to
I don’t look for trouble
But I don’t mind when I find it
Won’t backup
Won’t backdown
Aware of the bad position before you’re in it
Stay out if possible
Embrace it when it appears
The worst always wants to happen
You can’t stop it
You can prepare
You can be ready
But you have to face it
I’m not oblivious to the consequences
I’m prepared for all possible outcomes
But I put my chips on the most likely
Knowing the follies and explaining the
consequences of the worst outcomes
Sounds like I’m a pessimist
A worrier - I’m not
I’m prepared
I’m a warrior
It’s a fight for life
Keep your edge
I’ve got brass knuckles on
Maybe
Take my last breath
I don’t remember the first
Maybe it was someone else’s last
Maybe that’s where our soul comes into a new body
Shedding our skin
Molting
Maybe it’s our ancestors returned
Your son reminds me of grandpa etc etc
Your daughter acts just like your Tia
Maybe there’s always one of ourselves here somewhere
Maybe not
Maybe it’s all bullshit
Maybe it is a simulation
Maybe I’m the chosen one
Maybe I’m the messiah
God speaks to me
Why couldn’t it be me
Why wouldn’t I be here to change the world
There’s always a messiah here
He just isn’t always recognized
Maybe I’m right
Maybe you’re wrong
Maybe you have an opinion that you hold as truth
Maybe that’s your problem
Maybe that’s everyone’s problem
We all believe what we believe and we couldn’t bare it if you were right and I was wrong
Especially since no one can prove any of it
Maybe we are being fooled
Maybe we are fools
Take my last breath
Maybe I’ll rise in three days
Or is it two
Good Friday to Easter Sunday
None of it lines up
Pagan holidays
Before pagan meant satanic
Rome conquers the Germanic tribes
They persecute the Christians
They see how easy you can manipulate people through faith and religion
They take up the cross
Or invented the entire story
I’ve read an account of early Christians
A Roman claiming Mary was unfaithful and had the bastard son of a Roman legionnaire
Lied and kept the secret with a wild proclamation
I’ve also heard three wise men came to a manger and that Jesus was the son of God
The emperor decides to become Christian and Rome follows suit.
They appease the Germans by using their holidays but now they represent a Christian day for celebration
Roman Catholics
Why have a vault why have secrets
Why have any of it?
What happened to Gilgamesh
Enki and Enlil - my app doesn’t recognize the names
4000 years removed and they are underlined in red dashes to be spell checked.
What happened to the flood story from Babylon from Asyria
Will today’s gods be a potential spelling error in another 4000 years
Sure they will
But is there a god or many
Is a god any form of intelligence that created us
If so who made them?
If you can’t explain how it all works
We must concede there is something greater than ourselves
That creator or creators would make themselves known wouldn’t they?
Atmosphere the cosmos and the ocean are probably three barriers
Maybe you come out of the Mariana Trench
Maybe it connects you to the heavens
Maybe that’s where the UAPs come from
Maybe there is a hole at the center of the Arctic
Maybe the edge of the galaxy takes you to the Sun
Voyager one left and when it did it started sending crazy location signals.
No one will say where it thought it went.
Maybe the suns a white hole and we are coming out from it spinning at the golden ratio 1.618
Maybe we have never been around the damn thing
Just spinning above it swirling around and moving farther away
Maybe that’s why mars has no life and Venus is showing signs of atmosphere
Maybe
What I do know is that
We don’t know shit
We have a name for everything but we don’t understand it all
From gravity to magnetism
The movement of the stars
Light
Hell we forgot how to count
We forgot how to shape stone
Why wouldn’t I expect less
Why would I expect more
I am a man
A human of earth
Until I take my last breath
Maybe
People Watching
Alone in a booth
A trumpet plays behind a tropical set of drums
Tortilla chips overflowing onto the table
A creamy green salsa tickles my tongue
A red cloth lays across my thigh
I feel like a matador
A Spanish women belts out a rhythm I can’t translate
The Ball game on at the bar leaves half a screen from my vantage point.
I can tell when a pitch is low at least
I admire the footwear
It’s odd watching batters from the waist down.
What else changes when we only see half of the truth
The 20 something girl with perfect complexion
Eating with what must be her grey haired father
She has a head of black silk the extends to her waist
Like the mane of a stallion with conchos on
The pair in front of me talking endlessly about some sort of boat repairs
Skin like dried apricots
Dock 7
Barge this
Mast repair that
Everyone has their own world
We meet at these places but we are all interrupting something
The seniors coming in at 1:47pm have me puzzled
Is this dinner?
How late was breakfast?
I hope I can handle spicy food in my 80’s
I guess I can handle anything from the grave
80 ha
A lot of people would lose money on that bet.
All the vehicles passing my window
Headed somewhere
Going nowhere at all
That was a strike!
What’s this ump looking at?
The top half?
Slather the top half of my quesadilla with an overpriced avocado
Worth every penny
The young lady has a great laugh
She looks soft for this world
I hope dads teaching her the truth about it all
Three feet from the woman is a painting
A Mexican woman leans against a rock in a traditional dress her black pigtails and pale face resemble this young lady to a T
What are the odds
She is a spitting image
The labor crews aren’t here it’s too far past lunch break
There’s a pair of guys here and there
Most in Astros Jerseys
I guess they want to see the whole game
Now I can’t get over this painting
It’s like this woman posed for it
Maybe she was the artist
Maybe she knows the owner
It’s too coincidental
I have to say something
Hi I don’t mean to intrude
My name is AJ Garcia
I’m a local artist and poet
I’ve been writing about this experience at lunch
And when I swept across the room
I couldn’t believe the uncanny resemblance you have to this painting
She leans over looks at the work and says oh the long hair
Not just the hair
Everything
The complexion
The hair the face the makeup
That laugh comes again
She smiles and says how funny
At least now she knows
A violin plays from everywhere
This restaurant is a wonderful place to experience life
How funny
That line always blows my
Mind
If it’s funny then LAUGH
She did both
I can accept that
The high branches of the Oaks sway outside
The vehicles continue like ants along a path
Still mostly white and grey
I’m part of it today
Running around in a company truck made for a giant
For someone who likes wallowing in the mud
If not for a step bar you would see a sideshow circus act as I attempt to climb aboard
There is something about a diesel engine and that sound though
I don’t have to worry about anyone on the road
They all worry about me
Feels nice to be the big guy instead of the fast one
Little flutters from a flute make it seem like the birds are singing in Mexico
Like the man playing for the dark haired maiden
I haven’t stopped smiling since I arrived
On my way back from the restroom
Which seemed like a color tile factory
The hostess and a server were looking at a a photo and laughing
“ I want to see”
She said sure come look it’s a side eyes meme
I’ve seen that look many times from a puppy that pretends not to understand English
They both laugh
No one says that’s funny
I smile and continue my journey
That server isn’t using her gifts
She is a vision of beauty
It seems so outlandish to people to believe that beauty is one of the free gifts
Be exactly what you are but less attractive and you will see what I’m talking about
I’m no ten by todays standards
But sit next to me and I’m off the charts
I was full two quesadilla slices ago
That sounds right it’s a Mexican pizza with a lid
I keep eating for values sake
Avocado and beef fajita
At these prices…
It was a ranchers scraps
Today is 30 bucks a pound
No wonder the Mexicans are singing
A Mexican grito always gets me going
I raise the Bull fighters muleta to wipe my mouth
Now it wipes the table
The waitress comes over and I explain my work
She can’t believe how accurate the art is
I know it’s like she sat for it
26.41
I have cash
31 keep it
I need to take a photo of the art to paint the picture later
Life of an Aphant
I need to head to the car rider line and smoke shop too
Guarantee its 200 ft away and not an inch more
Buys day doing nothing
I get paid to let my mind work
Art
Math
Poetry
Philosophy
I have yet to be paid though
But
If not this then it would have to be a sex worker
Online toe nail pictures dipping into banana pudding
Someone somewhere paying for that right now I promise
The archway blocking this game is making it more exciting
We should cut half off of a lot of things
Easy
Not that thing
I can’t afford to loose half
The backup camera in the truck says
“Never depend solely on the camera”
Shit - never depend solely on anything
Fly through the lot out into the ant line
Swing this bus into the puff palace
I’m addicted to a few things at a time but always nicotine
Today it’s like wearing a swastika in public
The judgment from every sorry piece of shit in the world is abhorrent
Today I’ve moved to the fruity vape that delivers the juice
Peach jam
White peach raspberry
Peach is a delicacy I love and when asked to pick a flavor
It’s that or
Mango
Don’t like it? Don’t buy it.
And stop reading my work
This is for the crowd not the judge and jury
Keep your opinions where you flush
I’ll put mine on paper so you have something to wipe with
What a gorgeous day
Back in the prison pick up line
Waiting on offspring
Nine months and now 30 minutes a day
PTA family bingo April 11th
That’s one I won’t miss while away
Maybe I’m almost bingo age
Wonder what the seniors know
Probably some secret you learn over 65
Like Santa or the tooth fairy
Maybe they will tell me where babies come from
Maybe they know where we are all gonna end up
Well maybe some of us
I can’t save you a seat up there
I wouldn’t anyway
You gotta earn it
There’s a bunch of folks I wouldn’t open the gates for
That would be heaven
If all the evil greedy devils couldn’t come in
See me dancing with Jesus
The streets of gold make
Me nervous though
Apparently they care about value or the streets wouldn’t need to be paved with gold
Beats the alternative either way
You need less
I’m not too much
I’m just too much for you
I shimmer like gold
I’m that rare
You can’t take your eyes off me
You wish you could hold me
Stop the vein from forking
Like a raccoon who can’t let go
You’ll bite your own arm off first
It doesn’t bother me
I’ve seen it happen all my life
Everyone wants to get close to the sun
Then they miss the heat
They make excuses for my absence
There isn’t one
I can’t give you an explanation either
If you’re where I am then you’ll be with me
I don’t let anyone get burned beyond recognition
You might leave a different you
But I didn’t destroy you
I can slow dance away
Bottle up the relationship
We had different names for it anyway
What you are to me
I’ve never been to you
Appreciate the time we had
So one of us does
It’s not that I don’t cherish moments
I just know there’s more coming
If you have a nickname from me
I won’t forget you
I won’t recognize you anymore
But I won’t forget the you that was with me
Friendships
Relationships
Partnerships
All meant to sail away
Break the champagne and light the fireworks
Celebrate the voyages ahead
Bon voyage with love