z page

or of desperation

2010-11-17T11:38:00.005-05:00

an extremely pleasing sensation of affection all over my entire body,
"please, sister morphine, turn my nightmares into dreams"

seeing the sinister side in my infamous dance,
downing a mescaline drink in front of a television camera,
i told my interviewer that between the beginning
and end of my next sentence, i am going to be gone for a long, long time

a universal impulse, sipping a latte on ave. a,
or chewing betel nuts in an indonesian marketplace,
depressed, forever shifting the lady of grace’s state of consciousness to get through the day

a blonde woman seems to be looking for the pearly gates in my eyes, the caution signs plastered all around my unfinished framework are a sure give-away

unleashed passions, it does not, to be honest,
sound so bad, on many a christmas list this year,
a lifestyle of excess, or of desperation

New yOrk

2010-11-16T13:22:00.000-05:00

listening to jazz
listening to jazz
listening to jazz with the artist
jawin, mashin, slappin time with a master,
artist…
is like that
busting through,
not thinking, just doing, sometimes I think….ruins it
school…old scool… new school…any kind of school…its cools with me with me with me…with me I tell him…tapping out with my son…sun…so(u)(l)n of mine
tapping out with my son…son
rump-it-pump-pum
he is the master…i’m just a fool… i’m just a fool…
sittin by an open window, listenin to Latina mamas in the building across the street
“mirada, mirada, Carmen…” spoon whipping out a tempo against a bowl
glass breakin, hammer poundin, destruction, construction all around
“that taxi almost ran me over”
“No. he didn’t…taxi’s have better aim then that”
a knife, a fork, a bottle and a cork…that’s how you spell New yOrk
some guy once said

entertainment

2010-11-15T12:30:00.000-05:00

now that's entertainment

the jackal showed her titties,
while sachmo told a story with his horn,
a whore gave it away for free,
and the virgin mary pranced around in her party dress

he does not approve of any of this but played a long anyway,
giving his balls an open air show,
and chew chew charlie went tute tuting away

dark times

2010-10-15T09:41:00.000-04:00

$104.3 million for l'homme qui marche,
$106-million for green leaves and bust,
put such numbers in perspective,
what am i saying?
powerful, painful sting of now

it's not just my plush nihilism,
the significance, the implication,
allegations and allusions,
living through an era of traumatic unemployment,
economic stagnation,
very ugly scenes of political reaction,
i couldn’t get even one hit off it,
this epoch is done in and dog-tired,
these are dark times

mind's eye

2010-10-13T09:21:00.000-04:00

surrounded by the heroes
and the demons of my mind's eye,
i overheard someone say
they had come to this show by mistake,
with a red, fleshy muscular hero,
wrestling a giant weeping carp,
it was intense

the colorful spectacle, the grotesque gestures
and fantastic imagination of Einstein’s brains leaping
out at you like the latest conceptual spin on Felix the Cat

it's a riotous observable, tactile feast of safari warriors,
monstrous octopuses, sexy damsels and boiling seas,
everything is bold, surprising, liberating

face and identity do not matter,
the only precious obsession is the endless
stream of creativity from your heartstrings

the mind is my playground

2010-09-30T09:08:00.000-04:00

the mind is my playground,
that's where light
and space
become moments
of ephemeral experience

a birth was on the way,
a smile adds at least another
thousand kilowatts to the pause,
like a shearing beam of light

the child had come into life,
in a dance of brisk luminosity
and shadowy echoes,
in an homage to fire,
reckless impulses
and lively endurance,
pushing toward pure presence

un-conditionality has been,
paradoxically,
the one unchanging trait,
distilling fields of vigorous,
multicolored indications,
reducing the word to a magical
indicator of warning signs

around and around, 180 degrees,
ideas seemed to merge intangibly with it

but conditions in that modest realm
dramatically changed from turning away
to acceptance in an instant

mONEY, mONEY, mONEY

2010-09-25T09:42:00.001-04:00

the assault began in the front-pages,
in a pattern followed the world over,
it was a nightmare, blood was everywhere,
some worry that they can expect little
official protection from the authorities

in a cheap rent, rundown neighborhood,
a violent mob attacked in what appeared to be a planned assault,
the motive behind the violence is not immediately clear,
and remains the object of speculation

however, a more complex story is at work

everything is falling into place,
over a glass of champagne in Saint Moritz
this policy of taking and brutally occupying has succeeded

mONEY, mONEY, mONEY,
is the Pope Catholic?
truly horrendous, but to each his own; I'm with
Whitman who wrote, "it is not upon you alone the
dark patches fall"

cult of beauty

2010-09-22T10:35:00.006-04:00

a cult of beauty,
sublime is just a word,
a word which produces emotional states
of a particularly ridiculous and absurd nature,
evicting the human mind from its secure
residence inside the House of Reason,
more like an anchor around my ankle than a life raft

a snow covered bluff, a few barren trees,
burnt offerings,
perfumes, eau de cologne,
is this it? is that all there is?

it is the experience of the indeterminate,
leaping overboard into the boiling sea of romanticism,
it is fertile ground, lush, productive, abundant,
one where I am comfortable,
but never contented

but still the sublime remains tempting,
it is learning to live with the sublime in a manner that
permits the exploration of self-transcendence,
not so much of a question, no reality, no certainty,
as in pirsig’s exploration into the metaphysics of quality

i am just happy

2010-09-18T09:54:00.003-04:00

prepared for a collective shriek of horror,
my friends and the critical typified the
sometimes-schizophrenic reaction, they asked
"what prompted someone of my standing to
degrade himself this way"

blogs blasted me as a sellout and fraud,
darkly chided me, "I hope you find what you're looking for,
one called me "a glitter-dipped, shellacked turd"
another said it "promulgates a massive deception
that out-deceives all others"

the world, for the most part, despised the blog,
describing it as, among other things, a disaster for poetry,
assuming their moment in-the sun meant they were looking for something too, the blog world has a love-hate relationship with visibility, entertainment, and anything populist, it claims to be open but relentlessly polices its borders for anything as alien as this blog was bound to be

i am just happy they’re paying attention

one of us

2010-09-13T09:01:00.003-04:00

hold in, at, or to set a higher place for other people in estimation,
particular progression assures us that they are one of us

starting out impoverished, destitute and nameless,
early deprivation and obscurity counts as dues paid

working from inside the system in the direction of rising notoriety,
they reflect a seriousness and a readiness to sacrifice,
when it happens otherwise, we get confused

sovereigns

2010-09-10T08:46:00.005-04:00

he told his father as he prepared to
emigrate into the world of make believe
and turned down his pile of sovereigns,
no, thank you dad,
i'm going to make a name for myself,
if I fail, you will never hear of me again,
he did make a name for himself,
though perhaps too late for him,
several names

zoopraxiscope

2010-09-06T11:36:00.000-04:00

displaced by rational inquiry,
a continental drift from intelligence to compassion,
accelerating in our time,
in his Ästhetik,
Hegel noted that "art had worked itself out",
image-making is now thoroughly embedded in machines,
how does one gather it all together?

my first loose tooth came out

2009-10-05T11:16:00.002-04:00

at her finest

2009-09-29T09:06:00.001-04:00

at her finest, she is an inventive poetic inspiration,
who makes the nonobjective feel mystical, familiar,
objective, and subjective all at once

the cracks, crevices, splits
and fractures running over her skin
represent the pain departed from her body

immense tenderness
and ecstatic pinnacles,
the flesh in martyrdom,
outpouring of strikingly extraordinary nectars,
in adolescence, she fell in one long, loud thunderous blast

but death has soften opinions of her,
tenaciously striving to exist anew,
intrepid eye, he instantly recognized her promise,
adding to her mythology and beauty

1st Day At Cobblestone 2nd Grade

2009-09-26T11:04:00.000-04:00

the road to hell

2009-09-16T23:03:00.002-04:00

the road to hell, it’s said, is paved with good intensions,
i never meant to hurt you

the blue crowntailed beta stares me down,
still wondering why anyone would leave on a sunny sunday morning

after all these years…..

there isn’t a day that passes that I haven’t thought of you

mind's eye

2009-09-11T12:43:00.002-04:00

the demons of your mind's eye
by papa z

surrounded by the heroes
and the demons of your mind's eye,
i overheard someone say
they had come to this show by mistake,
with a red, fleshy muscular hero,
wrestling a giant weeping carp,
it was intense

the colorful spectacle, the grotesque gestures
and fantastic imagination of Einstein’s brains leaping
out at you like the latest conceptual spin on Felix the Cat

it's a riotous observable, tactile feast of safari warriors,
monstrous octopuses, sexy damsels and boiling seas,
everything is bold, surprising, liberating

face and identity do not matter,
the only precious obsession is the endless
stream of creativity from your heartstrings

a relevant question

2009-09-08T23:57:00.000-04:00

i look hard, then harder still,
and yes, it is indeed her,
tiny, probably weighs as much as a tic-tac,
intense, self-absorbed, superficial,
she is whippet-thin and sharp as a pin

it's the result of discriminating taste,
by the trampy clothes she wears
and a cute blonde bob
that falls across her face, just so

she looks spoiled, rotten to the core, moneyed,
a killer smile that could light-up the night,
seemingly unforgivable, cruel even,
a condition of intense public interest,
the excitement cause by her sweet, blue-eyed face
and all this at an early age, she’s got it, she knows it too

but if she were a man with a gun
rather than a woman with an outrageous attitude,
i think i can imagine her walking into a disco
and killing everyone, a perfect example of her style, indeed

a little girl with big lusts,
she seems to be acting out trashy B-movie roles,
sexy vamp, abused housewife, sobbing teenager,
the poor man's Gwen Stefani,
the penniless beggar's Courtney Love

i never wanted to hit somebody
over the head with the message,
if you don't get it, you don't get it,
i ask her, what kind of person are you?
she replies, i don't know if that is even a relevant question

walk away

2009-09-07T13:05:00.000-04:00

walk away,
ontario is a long,
long way from the place i call home

spent so much time at your doorstep,
i’ve tried to figure out what went wrong,
can’t put my finger on it,
it is a long way home,
then i was gone,
now a stranger lies next to me

pretty eyes, i’m a long way from my home,
you did not trust me, trust in my love,
ya beautiful darling, walk away

i don't understand where you go when you die

2009-09-05T16:32:00.005-04:00

i don't understand where you go when you die, i told lil’ biggy, but if God is up there sorting out the believers from the goats on the basis of whether they get all weepy when phillips, craig & dean songs are sung soft and slow, then i don't want to go there anytime soon, this bible-christianity thing isn't as straightforward as i think!

it was like watching a porno, unexpectedly, instead of reacting with desire i saw the actors as real people, not just bodies, not just as objects, where do they live, who are their fathers and mothers, what do they eat for supper, i also saw my child as a person for the first time in my life

i read to my boy about how lot's daughters got him drunk and had sex, the sexual purity laws from leviticus, how noah got drunk and naked and his sons had to cover him up, and judges 19, the tale that tells the story of a levite man and his unfaithful courtesan call girl and what happen next, the kid was amused, but mostly felt like he was getting to skip-out on his homework, the fact that the book of God's word was full of smut made no apparent impression upon him, but, slowly, i believed, my message, whatever that message might be, and how ever absurd it was, was being absorb

there is a whole bunch of other shit going on in the world, people having sex all the time, getting drunk, there is cruelty, there is violence, there's rape and chaos, disorder, confusion, havoc, and that's just in the fucking bible

what had my arrogant ways done but create a youthful beastly philistine?

last night, instead of our customary bible porn lesson,
what i had been trying to explain to him was that “being saved” isn't enough

i told him you aren't totally without merit before you have accepted the Lord into your heart and you clearly aren't a good, upright, virtuous person once you do accept him, you shouldn’t judge others on the basis of whether or not they call themselves Christians

there's an entire messed up, mixed up world out there, nothing, zilch, zero in my bible porn tales or what you learn at church can tell you the first damn thing about how to negotiate or come to terms with it in your life, i don’t understand? so how can i expect you to understand? i don’t

lil’ biggy turned over on his bunk where he had been lying half paying attention and stretched, looking at a star wars book, i was ready to punch him in the arm for not listening at all to my bible story, and then in a lengthy contemplative moment, i saw him for the first time, I saw my kid, I saw him as just a boy, having his own life and his opinions, beliefs, feelings, even if his thoughts were only about how to blow things up, or how to get more toys, or when are we going to eat something, i saw him like me, equal, a protagonist and an antagonist, companions, and yet completely different from me, without ultimate meaning, and it was all too much, too much, so we drove to the taco spot, and had fish tacos, sipping a birch beer soda and played tabletop hockey with the bottle cap

betty boo does not do restaurants

2009-08-26T13:24:00.000-04:00

betty boo does not do restaurants,
even before they banned smoking,
she says, puffing pointedly on a cigarette,
i stopped going out years ago,
once you're a single mom,
you're not too keen on a crowded room,
it all sounds like one big bang

so we are sitting in her dining room,
drinking cup after cup of coffee,
eating capacious amounts of chocolate biscotti’s,
she bought this house a decade ago for her grandchildren

gulls fly outside, noonday light streams in through the curtains, illuminating a copy of one of her most prized celebrated, charming portraits, of the son she lost, and the many portraits of her family that remain, and there are many

the mother, the grandma, the aunt, friend: betty,
whose image exerts an emotional pull over the entire room,
always engrossed in preparing for her family’s needs,
she is a softer, more permanent presence,
with blonde hair, piercing eyes, wily,
warm expression and darting features,
instantly likeable, resembling an angel
sent down from the heavens
to guide her family thru all it’s ups and downs

enjoying a cigarette in the spring sunshine,
she is renowned as a consigliere, an ideatore,
she’s the virtuoso of her world,
shades of colors brightly surround her,
electric purples, pinks and lime greens,
she is the padrone of her castle in the sky,
so classically betty-esque

storm

2009-08-23T18:08:00.001-04:00

a storm rages,
you act,
and the storm is gone

beauty

2009-08-22T09:23:00.000-04:00

beauty, inspired,
breathing in the artist,
of the author,
of the dancer,
instrumentalist,
composer,
performer,
searching for reflection,
loving in all i do

silence, permitting,
purity of the hopelessness,
of helplessness,
of creativity,
of mystery,
of wonder

affections,
intimacy,
temperament,
tenderness,
perfect harmony,
captivated by the heart of one

good to see you

2009-08-19T14:50:00.000-04:00

good to see you,
good to see your face,
good to be immersed in your sweet rain,
good to see you again

when i look back, i see traveling on your mind,
i see you have gone away on that endless highway,
i see suitcases in the hallway,
i see you clearly

when the sun rises in the pure light of day,
when the sun sets behind the golden clouds at night,
there will not be anyone in my heart but you

now at last your travels have led you back home again,
good to see you,
good to see your expression,
good to hear your song,
good to lie down by your side,
good to see you again

inscribing meaning

2009-08-11T17:47:00.001-04:00

inscribing meaning,
150,000 years back,
the original, Eve,
the ancestor of every human alive today

cave paintings on the Southern Cape,
two ochre engraved plaques that
had been inscribed with abstract geometric
designs approximately 75,000 years ago,

tracing the proliferation and mutation of these images,
in all their multifaceted vitality,
arguably our species' oldest work of art,
far and away the most compelling evidence
that art is at the core of who we are

contemporary international academics strategize
over these subterranean representations as
if they were coping mechanisms
for the upcoming apocalypse

the great western intellectual juggernaut is not in
any position to be suggesting modes of expression
to cultures that date back to the dawn of human
consciousness, especially when they are exquisite
and profoundly meaningful artifacts

give it a century, we'll see whose
paradigm survives for how long
and why our species makes art

absurd

2009-08-09T21:25:00.002-04:00

it took my breath away,
there are several torsos together,
rolling them through her fingers, twisting
her wrist as she moved across the torsos,
that became the template for the seduction

the energy, the movement of the possessed,
derives from the way he negotiates the crazy,
playfully explicit, expressive twists and turns
with the strict irrationality of the setting

he uses instinct, skill, elegant expression,
without forfeiting popular appeal,
this acrobat, this dancer, this poet, even dared
to take up one of the 20th century's most pernicious ideas,
echoing the thinking of many a crazed dictator,
"irrational thoughts should be followed absolutely and logically"

she manages her feats by any means necessary, most attempts
at describing her work make it sound lunatic, so let me start by stating simply it is as wonderful as anything i've seen in years,
it is sure to become a site of pilgrimage for all those susceptible
to the proposition that life can be beautiful as well as absurd

creed

2009-08-08T08:04:00.003-04:00

first do no harm
humbly serve others
ask for help

likeness

2009-08-05T22:06:00.001-04:00

truth is the making of a loving space

this kind of talk about truth,
envisioning a death prior to considering life,
that is one of those rare thoughts,
whose uniqueness is so potent that
it goes on to become the new boundaries of likeness

spider-web tattoos warn on the elbow,
signifying an institution has been served,
colleagues with such titles as professor, scholar,
are often an exquisite mix of arrogance, pomposity
and paranoia, with some reckless insecurity thrown in

shifting thoughts, dreams, dying of augmentation,
discussing reflections, pondering an observation,
preoccupied by deliberation, all this turned out to be
as rewarding as it was enlightening but every once in
a while, someone extraordinary, unexpected, makes a
stir by arguing that life is much more than making pretty
pictures, the out-come is a splendid new arrangement
of the most significant matters of the moment, life is made of
a birth and a death and truth is evidence of the relics of survival

justification

2009-08-03T12:26:00.002-04:00

power is when you have every justification to react and you don’t

rican girlie girl

2009-08-02T11:00:00.001-04:00

i am
not nice,
not nice at all,
nice is weak,
live by these words,
live in these words,
nice is cordial,
nice is polite,
nice is bourgeoisie,
nice is bullshit,
what goes around comes around,
karma baby

i am
a nigger, a spic, a hebe, an arab,
a cherry poppin fagot-lesbo-don-juan-juliana,
a jumpy junkie, a craczie madman,
a cripple making sweet love to my cancer

i am peaceful dharma,
i am humble (at times),
i am blessed,
i am proud of lil’ biggy
for the way he jumps the kicker

says the perfect rican girlie girl,
pop it harder, pop it higher, pop it longer

i kissed that girl and i liked it

time

2009-08-01T11:33:00.009-04:00

.

time

this time,
who will be the last one to die for having eyes,
who will be the last one to parish for an idea,
who will be the last one to succumb for having vision,
who will be the last one to breathe the last breath for a thought

rest in peace

.

empty box syndrome

2009-07-31T09:37:00.000-04:00

a very well-groomed woman
sits silently on the rack,
“empty box syndrome,”
a giant double headed dildo,
sits like an animal barely contained

here's the story:
centerfold model,
she is picture perfect,
her body lubed,
sporting an enormous dong,
it is part of a game,
one in which she’s very good at

playing an artist,
he’s flexing his biceps,
all buffed up,
wearing S&M gear,
an object of extreme vulgarity,
they like it that way

it represents a qualitative leap in that genre,
brutalizing ourselves and, we think, the viewer,
it is not their first time, it won’t be their last

she resides with the artist
and she loves his work,
but a beautiful woman
showing him up at his own game?
ya, right back at you

perhaps we'll hear more about this later,
the dynamic duo and their wonderful
giant double headed dildo
but for right now you can fantasize all you want

too many possibilities

2009-07-29T17:35:00.002-04:00

she chooses to live in a world in
which there are too many possibilities,
a chica on method weeps in my ear,
cherry poppin' vamp, a gun slinger,
from a hallucination i once had,
she cuts herself, the poor girl, ouch

snarls, says that i'm a parasite on her ass,
running through the problems she's having with
her mangirl, it’s a chemical infused world

he, too, is involved with a mixed up girl,
constantly staggered by him,
his lament stutters like an echo in a tunnel,
a thousand lives, which one of them is you?

she pretends to be an assortment,
a collection of mix and match personalities,
strung out chicks, post-grad bullets,
troubled young girls, anxious butterflies, young mrs robinsons,
she’s a player, performer, it's an important question,
one that i intend to ask her myself, when we meet next in new york

but before we encounter the real her,
i need to confirm the status of the fictitious one,
the one whose fame has long since leaped
out of the manhattan scene and into every
dirty romantic crevice of the urban zoo,
the one who has hit a very big nail smack,
slam dunk in the head, the nail is called identity,
some of us seem not to worry overmuch,
about who or what we are

it is no longer a permanent arrangement,
if she doesn't like it, change it, move towns,
move countries, get a fresh nose, get a fresh face,
arrive poor, leave rich, its all so possible

but there is a possible snag to all this extreme flexibility,
if the outside keeps changing, what happens to the inside?

even with that question, she is still my patron saint,
because her achievement has been to step outside of herself
in these personality wars, instead of living in a world in which
there are too many certainties, she chooses to live in a world in
which there are too many possibilities

passionate chica

2009-07-28T07:25:00.000-04:00

voyeuristically watching as her body twitches,
palpitates, vibrates in waves of creature pleasures,
standing in front of her, i am bathed in the light of heaven

the result is glorious, God at the centre,
with extra lashings of lyrical poetry,
indiscrete exploits and intense adoration
to sate her ache for indulgences

as in scenes from a Caravaggio painting,
we are alive in all of this,
in everything and everyone,
the protagonists are caught in mid-flow,
the phosphorescent glow of Jesus on the cross is upon us,
it is palpable, it is vivid, it is eloquent

composed with the harmony of the renaissance:
we are curled, coiled, twisted, collided,
we languish tenderly in each others embrace,
concetto, a total work of art, amour

it's a latin thing,
something for hotter climes,
reserved for romantics
and for a familiar passionate chica

uncomfortable with prying eyes

2009-07-27T16:40:00.000-04:00

uncomfortable with prying eyes,
rumination, paranoia will destroy ya,
in civil institutions and in your gut,
it will tear you apart like a paper shredder

elements of freedom and dissent are absent,
the innocent hungers for any esthetic silence,
but no peace of mind can be found now

cameras everywhere, in every car a p.i.,
tired of being torn down by these restless thieves,
weary of these thoughtless puritans,
by those who purge you of position, of your attitude,
of the feelings in your heart, of the spirit in your soul,
by individuals famished for recognition, hungry for identity,
aching for notoriety and the appreciation of the crowd,
long denied that for their indulgences against humility

it is antiseptic, safe, death to hierarchies of taste
and distinctions of talent, and yet determined to
neutralize our stillness, our tranquility
with an excess of useless information

what's remarkable about this seen
is how neat and clean everything is,
as clean as a third-grade classroom,
but it is far more obliterating in its
indifference to its innocent subject,
a survival cocoon for the retch within,
everything is turned upside-down,
the grasshopper has become a grub

a good bible story

2009-07-25T13:24:00.004-04:00

everybody loves a good bible story,
for the explosions, for the fire and brimstone,
for the dark clouds that rain down frogs and fish,
for un-carnal knowledge,
for unspeakable death and destruction,
the violent drama is exciting,
riddled with plague,
political corruption,
poverty and starvation,
social structures pulverized to a barking thunderous appeal,
like the kiss of Judas,
there are no hero’s in the devil’s penny arcade

i was totally thrown by that

since i became a man,
i've suffered from thoughts of a
melancholy awareness that I was
tethered to this mundane realm,
the casualty list is appalling

everything, every experience,
that has ever existed,
came from an appeal,
each appeal becomes stronger and stronger,
it begins to be expressed in words,
the power of the word, intention, meaning and purpose,
like energy floating around in the ether,
actions are set in motion,
childish thoughts and feelings are all around me again,
and experience manifested itself

of hopes and dreams

2009-07-24T15:04:00.000-04:00

9:20 in the morning, sitting at boulder,
watching the clouds as they move through my coffee,
can’t help myself, i am a creative man, i see many pieces

riding in the back of the sexy sentra,
all strapped in for safety,
why are you a madman papa

i am a madman for my beliefs,
for my expectations,
for my convictions,
for my faith

dropping him off at school

i will always love you my precious little one

there’s phallyn, he runs to see his friend,
he blows me a kiss, i wave back to him,
then he disappears into the unknown world
of independence, of his own expectations,
of his own faith, of his own beliefs and convictions,
of love, of hope and dreams, of wishes and desires

i release him into that world everyday

trusting him

trusting in his gift to navigate
the world he creates in his own heart

her spell

2009-07-24T10:29:00.002-04:00

under the influence of her spell,
the perfume of a wandering kitten,
liberated from the formality of her treasures,
he is seduced by a oft exhibition of her cunt

as you may have heard, the young prince (servant) began to
contemplate his surrender to the fragrance of a woman

no senses can comprehend the furious struggles
which raged on and on,
all matter and substance are gone,
hopes of keeping his hunger faded from his dream,
in those great times, he later wrote in a love letter:
worries pressed on my heart from morning until night

in the middle of this siege, the servant found
solace in the teachings of an esoteric gipsy,
their breath, their rituals, their techniques
gave them great supernatural powers,
to fly,
to see into the future,
to hear and see over vast distances
turning the devoted slave into a mortal being

the sharp clawed, soft, furry,
felis catus manipulation of him was broken,
he seems to have undergone some kind of transformation,
he cared neither for himself,
nor for worldly affairs,
as the greatness of divinity enveloped his heart

this is the end my friends

2009-07-23T09:18:00.001-04:00

this is the end my friends,
the intense flooding that sank many vessels
has gone out to some far away sea
and all ships are under the protection of the seaport harbor again

all children, he said, get a life jacket,
she happily played the role
of the woman with the gun,
who, standing by the life boats,
guarantees that a disorderly
evacuation took place,
the pleasure police came in,
and sterility reigned

as he ruminated on where we were in the past,
he spoke of apocalypse now, star wars,
and most notably the titanic,
but the verdict was positively outstanding,
and anyone that tells you otherwise is lying

the beautiful invisible dragon

2009-07-22T10:52:00.003-04:00

the beautiful invisible dragon,
flew through the radiant open blue sky,
blowing fire, discharging flames,
blazing rapidly in unbroken stride

beauty is propose as the instrument
that causes pleasure in the beholder,
beauty, as a means and not an end,
is what makes the content powerful,
it can be used to deliver almost any cargo,
from catholic dogma to outlaw sexuality

beauty is dangerous and subversive
to the complaisant obedient,
to the docile, controllable,
submissive loyalists to dictators,
kings, polite bourgeois
and boorish social classes,
trying to control the effects of beauty through
mandating exactly what beauty is and is not,
it is not worth the ghastly innuendos that the despots claim

the beautiful invisible dragon drifts carelessly,
daydreaming, through the transcendent vanishing
moment, begins and concludes with a telling point,
beauty is stunningly brilliant,
it is generous, the kind of strong medicine
needed to help make a more just society,
beauty is outraged innocence,
dungeon fisting, a ravaged virgin,
cocaine excursions into metaphysical masochism,
homoerotic sadomasochistic trading cards, film noir,
snapshots and mementos of naughty bits and pieces

the beautiful invisible dragon
by papa z and bad lad

angry dog of youth

2009-07-21T08:52:00.000-04:00

the angry dog of youth, alert as a pitbull,
hungry as a gull, is burning once again

they thought they were playing the system,
it turned out that they were themselves being played

it's a too cool for jesus school,
made chic by the bullshit wielding academics
who write barely readable rhetoric explaining
why looking at next to nothing is good for you

now, who is wiser than god

fashion show

2009-07-20T12:02:00.000-04:00

dysfunctional predicament,
deadpan poses that seem to suggest
that something is not as it appears to be

this confirms the fact that fantasies
are more than approachable,
that they have been thoroughly
colonized into our ordinary lives

unsurprisingly, it's not hard to find
where misunderstandings starts and ends

classified as "authentic"
it can be seen as investigations of the
ways that individuals present themselves in the world,
everyday reality is, after all, just another fashion show

venus/ cupid

2009-07-15T09:47:00.001-04:00

a sumptuous venus is seen from beyond a boudoir door,
she presents herself, clothing fallen below her knees,
left hand adjusting an ornament woven into her golden hair,
right arm extended toward an attending cupid

he holds a mirror in which venus regards herself,
and the reflection frames her face like a portrait,
the face contrasts with the radiant flesh of her nude back,
while also recalling the pure marble of a classic roman statue

just below cupid's feet and above a pair of lovebirds,
placed next to the dearly departed goddess bellona,
you will see; lace, linen, silk, cotton, satin, metallic thread,
fur and velvet, all in recline beside luxurious skin, a myriad of textures, arrayed in a sensuous rainbow of limpid hues and colors

burning techniques brings abiding,
immutable sensuality to a fever pitch,
venus looking at herself in a mirror,
while cupid helps her to see,
the vision is fused with the sense of touch,
its affects are jaw dropping

faded rose

2009-07-14T08:33:00.000-04:00

could it be the faded rose from days gone by?
his salvation, the blood of a sacrificial lamb,
crying, laughing, ruminating, palpating, silence,
never-never-never-say die

the buzzards circle,
draw tight,
let the wannabe's flounder,
rise up above the leaches that would diffuse your talent

a remnant, the consequence, closure,
the butterfly has become a caterpillar,
and a survival cocoon is made for the youth within

papa z

sometimes: to lil' biggy

2009-07-13T07:26:00.003-04:00

rose says,
sometimes,
people are not properly equipped to deal with feelings of intimacy,
that explains it,
some individuals have difficulties with my intimate habits,
the sicilian nature, immersed in romanticism

so here goes,
he is exposing once more,
spent 13 days in hell,
missed him so

click, clack, moooo, that’s how a cow types

devotion, affection, showing the strongest feelings,
with two in mind, drink from the loving cup

seeded by love-mines, augmented with beauty,
abundant natural riches, brave, bless with treasures,
graceful civility, sincerity, vital and de rigueur,
socially a work of art, an opus,
a masterpiece that heals broken hearts,
tranquil, subatomic harmony,
awash in exceptional, rare nuclear medicine,
he is as much our future as he is our past

never

2009-07-12T11:37:00.002-04:00

like an old decommissioned navy pier,
or eighties sex club,
or the engine room of the titanic,
they’ve had there day

this is a sight for sore eyes,
clearing a decade's worth of pigeon shit,
its a dirty job but someone’s got to do it,
it is a brave soul who can triumph through
this kind of heart brake, a brave soul i tell you

just when the body politic, bourgeois,
joe or jane citizen says that life sucks,
people wish the worst for us all because we're in ruins,
because we try, but the world readily proves people wrong,
just when we think it is hopeless, harbingers of good luck appear
at our doorstep, i couldn't afford not to do it, give up hope? never

its her lure

2009-07-11T08:20:00.001-04:00

its her lure,
seemingly it would strike you down,
suddenly she turns her back on you

she has been possessed like this for decades,
and, more recently, obsessed,
often lying around in the nude,
naked, in her bathroom or bedroom,
isolated, hidden, in a day dream,
or in a panic, temporarily immobile,
in an obscure dark place,
wearing her burial garment

her face is evocative,
her identity is liquor,
it can be elegant, erotic, sullen,
a reverence to something lost
or never quite gained,
a study in both negation and yearning

it's impossible to know her,
she appears in so many masks,
a subterfuge, a pretense,
aware that someone is looking at her,
an observer is often the most innocent of the observed,
whether you read the artist's rejection of her
face as a reflection of her inner life,
focused on her body, a sexual preoccupation,
out in the open, she is ultimately intensely frightened,
in isolation, she can be whoever she wants to be

scratching raven

2009-07-10T08:37:00.001-04:00

to the bad lad

there is a somber raven scratching at my window
and she’s not here to fix my broken hearted blues,
i am strung out like a kite on a line

it was an evil hour that brought me to this place,
loss is when you love someone more than yourself
and they die, go away or leave you, than you know loss

i don’t know what i’m doing from one minute to the next,
that’s what tortures me…but i definitely know why

rational animal

2009-07-09T22:42:00.002-04:00

I am a rational animal but I am still an animal. I just trashed my MO, my modus of operandi, my reason for living, now how rational is that?

I walked around for hours looking for the perfect place, a private setting to deposit my lover, my dead lover, the muse of a lifetime.

I was scared and frighten, I looked for a hiding place where I could unload her remains; in an ally way in sleepy Soho, or maybe behind Canal St.

A dumpster.

I when back to checking on her repeatedly, over and over and over, dead bones and all.

Walking around Soho, East Village, eventually ending up at a coffee shop in the Bowery, lamenting what I have done. I’ve freed myself by killing my lover, my modus of operandi, my means of production.

personal jericho’s

2009-07-08T10:24:00.000-04:00

not a message of convenience,
a message of tradition,
personal jericho’s, what are they,
who are they, what have i done,
ruminations, reflections, mirror images,
a likeness, destruction, insanity, similarity

near the dead sea and the jordan river,
in the west bank of palestine,
rest the oldest inhabited city on earth,
the city of worship to lunar deities,
copious springs of life,
the city of palm trees,
the city of ariha,
the fragrant city,

led by joshua,
return from bondage in egypt,
two spies, protected by rahab,
GOD spoke, for six days,
carry the ram's horns in front of the ark,
on the seventh day they marched around
the city seven times blowing the ram's horns

the walls of jericho came crumbling down,
completely destroying the city of palm trees,
every man, woman, and child in it was slaughtered,
who would rebuild the city of jericho,
would do it at the cost of their firstborn child

not a painless message,
no false message here,
the message is clear,
the message is true,
the message is straightforward,
the message is one of redemption,
the message is one of redesign,
the message is love

what's happening?

2009-07-07T08:22:00.002-04:00

sounds of silence,
passages, transitions,
listen deeply,
what's happening?

the full moon rises in capricorn,
gather round, manifest, thoughts
and feelings and words and actions,
reinvent, choose each day

a lunar eclipse, marking time,
step through the portal,
old, leaving beliefs and patterns behind,
make a path to create, new

awake is all there is,
present in this one moment,
what more could I need?

2009-03-05T14:19:00.001-05:00

Dear readers,
I have to say so-long for now.
Trust in me, I will be back.
papa z

of hope and dreams

2009-03-05T13:02:00.003-05:00

disorientation by coercion

2009-02-26T19:20:00.000-05:00

odd couplings and eerie places,
it's uncanny, even fascinating,
how this owes to incongruous
juxtapositions in order to represent
unconscious thoughts and dreams

anxious, fear, panic,
rushing to the rescue,
a torch shed light,
the darkness is overpowering

stepping through a curtain
into the black space,
you are immediately confronted,
the faint lines of a doorway in the distance,
you are groping, towards something,
of course there are obstacles in your way
and just as surely, the room is empty

notorious sinister places where
alarming events have occurred,
beginning with the family home,
down corridors, into breathing holes,
through dark bathrooms and cellars

managing to entice you through,
the darkness purely seething,
the promise of light,
another identical room,
a child's mattress mysteriously
appearing on the floor,
a window, the ghostly glow of an
old film projector, eventually the exit,
disorientation by coercion,
this is the maze in which we all live and die in

shades of gray

2009-02-25T13:15:00.005-05:00

wild splashes of gray, silver and smoke are
distributed and dispatch for flamboyant effect,
another colorless demonstration,
the unremitting lack of color is vital
to the composition’s success,
i don't mean colorless as in dull or boring,
i mean without color, but very, very significant,
extraordinary, relevant to the moment we’re in

to be black or white is a dangerous setting,
they are the dominant tones that are presented here

surveying, witty observations, surprises, smart and
engaging, as only a person in the process of exploring
untested possibilities can be

you feel open, special, chaotic,
dizzy, slightly dodgy but delightful,
it is like playing in a pile of leaves

it is emblematic, rolling a pair of parallel questions
down a slight hill in an autumnal forest,
the representation tumbles and tosses as limbs,
body parts and dry leaves are jarringly glimpsed

oddly, it seems like a sober scrap of
literary narrative, something dramatic is happening
to a man represented in a motion picture show
but you don’t know what it is,
and you don’t want to know what it is,
it is just what he’s going through,
and it seems painful to you

fashion show

2009-02-24T17:26:00.000-05:00

dysfunctional predicament,
deadpan poses that seem to suggest
that something is not as it appears to be

this confirms the fact that fantasies
are more than approachable,
that they have been thoroughly
colonized into our ordinary lives

unsurprisingly, it's not hard to find
where misunderstandings starts and ends

classified as "authentic,"
it can be seen as investigations of the
ways that individuals present themselves in the world,
everyday reality is, after all, just another fashion show

i remember her so well

2009-02-22T13:52:00.002-05:00

i remember her so well,
so fondly, so effectually,
and we drank up our ideas,
and there were many

by that time, an easy young girl,
from a small urban village,
still attending Sunday school every week
and was completely, painstakingly,
unconditionally addicted to dirty fornication

she was leading a smoking gun, unholy, life,
and love’n it, while i was getting involved as
much as i could, in clashes, rowdy brawls,
the demonstrations of the day…terror

we became partners in the radical movements
that proliferated culpable, nasty, censurable acts,
and we called it art but we knew what it was, love

hope

2009-02-20T19:08:00.002-05:00

a "Hope" poster hangs alongside the wrestler,
André René Roussimoff (Andre the Giant)
eleven and already a budding radical,
riding tricked-out electric skateboards,
and wearing “FUCK OFF” T-shirts

thirty-nine years old,
drunk on romanticism,
addicted to stimulating,
tender terrifying poisons,
a scum bag artist from the
streets of nasty tricks, an
influential, technically rigorous,
shit head operator of extreme means

fondly remembered for his roles in the film
“Without Permission” and "Hitler’s Bride,"
raised in a nightmare, the signature
image of the street working man
accompanied by a little lyrical paranoia,
the wacky caption inspired by the artist
“Obey Colossus" or, simply, "Obey"

.

the reward

2009-02-19T15:17:00.002-05:00

in less then a moment, the innumerably variant,
vividly bright, elegant character of an
innocent youth, rocked my world

it was only seven years ago,
though it feels like an entire lifetime,
that the most energetic, influential tot
took hold of me

underfoot all the time,
the small, tiny reflection of the father,
organized itself around rustic environs
as a framework to imagination, it was delightful

but it was a trifle disturbing, too,
a break in this hush, it suddenly
proved to be ripped wide open,
raw, exposed, stripped bare

the result was less strident,
almost mystical, yanking my mind
into dreams of abstract associations

the reward within this picture is the thrill
of planned intentions, led by cool deliberation,
the effect is that of poetry in an orthodox tongue

2009-02-17T21:51:00.001-05:00

photo credit: greg jones

your newborn face

2009-02-16T17:26:00.002-05:00

your newborn face,
eyes as brilliant as the stars in the night,
as bright and bold as the sun up above,
i felt your embrace,
the ground shook beneath my feet,
holding you so close to me, my love,
my little fearless one,
i quivered as i felt your
heart beating in my hands

trust in me,
my love for you
grow stronger day by day

i know the love we feel
will last til my days are through,
from here to infinity and back,
til the end of time, for an eternity,
from the earth to the heavens up
above the sky,
time without end

be

2009-02-14T15:51:00.004-05:00

nothing reveals the radical evolution
of the delicate soul more dramatically than
the contrast between sumptuous taste
and the appeal to a mass banal audience,
its like the difference between black and white

i am talking about the passionate development
of an elegant, ethereal, exquisite
sublime precocious prodigy

nobody can expose the advancement
of the refined brightness and clarity that
this street smart vitality life can, nobody

a relatively recent blip on the radar screen,
scorchingly timely, i love it,
dutifully questioning everything,
is it possible to be painfully earnest
and to have the confidence
of “don’t give a damn,
couldn’t care less,”
at the same time?

not bloody likely but
delicate souls are trying anyways,
exist, survive, live, be

to: big dawg c. happy valentines

the happiest man alive

2009-02-13T16:48:00.003-05:00

dazzlingly inventive,
a radical initiator,
strippers and hoes,
hyper-sophisticated fashionistas,
princesses, imps and fairies,
all vie for your attention and affections

they surrender themselves to you
as if this kind of reality,
as if this kind of substance
can be found nowhere else but in you

beauty rags like Numéro Zero,
Purple Fashion and Pop Magazine
all quote you and display your gorgeous face

what makes you an atypical wonder?
what makes you an esthetic of extreme artifice?

for one thing, you are the inventor,
the genius behind extravagant visual scenarios
influenced by everything and anything,
from fairy tales to hard-core porn
and ice cream wet dreams

sometimes it seems you’re too-cool-for-jesus
but not so, you have a pure diamond in your heart,
a precocious, skinny, strangely gifted kid,
born in the middle of the country, no-wheresville,
raised in cities from coast to coast

exaggeration, ingenuity, art, science,
theatre, autonomous black film noir,
are all quintessential elements for your
trigger happy, love-joy existence,
you must be the happiest man alive

i am

optimism

2009-02-12T13:31:00.004-05:00

it's been my life, my career, my sustenance,
i'm an optimist and a lover,
my child has been fed a diet of optimism
ever since he opened his big brown eyes,
i'm supportive of it, i embrace it

its my mirror image,
it is a propensity to anticipation,
to god, to happiness, to bliss,
its insistence on movement,
i’m obsessed with optimism

creative protagonists

2009-02-10T11:20:00.003-05:00

you may not know it but i can run really, really fast,
unfortunately, generations of enthusiasts,
when it comes to taking a trip to this sublime world,
most of you go for the package tourist's option,
drifting away safely into a storybook fiction,
losing yourselves in picture perfect,
postcard illustrations, go with the flow mentality,
going on forget-it-all reality escapes,
so called beach vacations once a year

you cannot deal with the reality of it all,
it is no wonder that for years creative protagonists
have toil to elevate the boundaries of a banal,
commonplace, day-to-day, so call normal world,
as they struggle to visualize those wild possibilities
that lie on the far side of the safe garden fence

altered states brought on by angry venomous poisons
and downing lethal tonics have been my old associates,
how about making an allowance to be armchair trippers,
go for it, i double dare you, i triple dare you

metamorphosing

2009-02-09T09:14:00.002-05:00

the use of materials separated
and removed from their previous contexts,
such as wild grasses, and mason jars,
function as compositional elements
within this ceremonial act

engaging and metamorphosing
the immediate surroundings,
the room transports the observer
into otherworldly scenarios,
seamless futuristic intentions
and devises, while guiding visitors
through fairy-tale metaphors

furtive display devices create
glimpses into idiosyncratic
worlds inhabited by suspended long,
slender, soft-bodied, legless,
bilaterally symmetrical invertebrates,
oddly disjointed from the overall interior
to create awkward sites for voyeuristic activity

anachronistically frozen in space,
mythological taxidermy hybrids insinuate
elements of exploitation of chance effects,
unexpected juxtapositions,
renderings from an ancient catalogue
that collides with futuristic settings

enigmatic outlines are drawn by the
structures of these environs
but motion and individual tableaux
tend to interject more personal narratives

these are various cloaking devices,
such as semi-transparent glass containers,
a window that one may uncomfortably
peer through, insinuating the
complicity of the observer

viewers will encounter unlikely
temporal amalgamations,
as futurisms of the past
collide with aberrant, abnormal,
imaginations drawn from mythological archives

2009-02-08T08:37:00.000-05:00

of course, you have a point,
sometimes a cigarette is just a cigarette

inferno of lust

2009-02-07T11:44:00.006-05:00

with my mirror image,
my own susceptibility to intimacy, passion, rapture,
my insistence on action and reaction,
i am an inferno of lust, obsessed with love

it is a sort of birth certificate,
a birthright to hellfire,
to the everlasting fire,
to unconditional love,
eternal love

there is a presence of the cipher, cryptograms,
secret languages, secret codes, of tombstones,
or the souvenirs of something that was,
tokens of sweet tasty memories

drop-dead serious, rhythmical, almost electrifying,
depositing me right in the pathway of desire,
in touch with ideas about chance, simplicity,
indeterminate servility, conceptualism,
and an attitude about self-knowledge,
self-love, self-murder, self-pity, self-respect

do i tag her or not?

2009-02-05T12:03:00.003-05:00

do i tag her....or not?

hot, hot, hot young, pretty sight,
i think the term is “barely legal,”
but she is hitting on me, hard

she works in a coffee shop,
serving up severe tenderness

dark, bright eyes, black as sable, passionate,
adoring, absorbing, reflecting, persuading me

she has an alabaster smile as sweet as honey,
laughter is her lance, penetrating into my heart

sweet, tight, little ass,
she’s got a hitch in her get-a-long,
a navel piercing,
i stare at her tiny exposed mid-drift,
i can’t stop looking at her

flirting with me,
killing me with every gesture,
every affectionate proposition,
delicious to look at,
bewitching and charming,
playfully naughty

does she know what she’s doing to me,
ya she knows what she’s doing

so, did i tag her?

thirteen

2009-02-04T12:20:00.006-05:00

when i was just thirteen,
inside a brick warehouse on the edge of the city,
men led me by the hand into a musty basement,
in a room that was dark and dank,
several times a week to teach me vulgar acts

the men wore coats, gloves, masks and rubber boots,
they pass eyes and patches of skin back and forth,
i can see thread veining on the face of one of their victims

laughing, one of the men says,
‘i'm not sure about that effect’
examining the pores on a swatch of flesh,
the other men all lean forward to take a look,
another man nods and reaches for a head,
as he describes how to rip facial hair off of the cheeks,
he alternately chafes and jabs at the eyebrows

deploying tactics meant for a food processor,
an example-bound to excite a teenager,
they were at their best when revealing
the mysteries of those jobs that would
have immediately drawn my untrained eye

bend the torso in one direction and a leg jumps out,
bend the leg down and the whole cadaver falls over,
the technicians assigned to the corpse have been at
it all afternoon and they look exhausted,
i grasp the dead body and try to flex one of its legs
at the knee,the whole thing wobbles for a moment
before slowly keeling over, i think maybe we need to
get the grinder, i mutter

inflicting pain, bearing the usual implements of
this mad trade: a bucket, a cleaver, a knife,
a few oxygen masks, impaled on a hook,
a grimacing man, wearing a tag: VICK,
his side was diabolically, ripped wide open,
revealing his haemorrhaging organs,
not a martyred man,the image was so powerful
that it demanded some kind of description,
it was so shockingly violent

when i was fifteen,
i devoted myself out of complacency
to a field that has become a vulgar
note on my society, best known for my malevolent,
violent past, i am very sweet and i was offered
a half a million dollars to carry it out

forever a kid

2009-02-03T11:10:00.003-05:00

photo by b dawg c

he makes it look easy

2009-02-02T12:21:00.008-05:00

he makes it look easy,
as easy as opening your eyes,
but he seems to have come upon
his codification over time,
through experience,
a life lived,
through joy,
disappointments,
violent means,
any instrument or
tool that holds potential

he can't stop his mind's eye from structuring each
passing place or event as an interesting story

at just the decisive moment
he is still young enough to
have the deepest
and most spontaneous impact
yet mature enough to be
able to start reacting
constructively to his needs,
wants, requirements,
requests and wishes

opening with his grand and gorgeous edifice,
composing a delicious synchronization of
mistresses, duchesses, hoers, hoes
and princesses that he sculpts and cares for,
visions, daydreams, illusions, desires,
are even more seductive and provocative
and in the end, he knows better than to waste his time,
he has been around metaphors long enough to know
what delusions they can produce

still, in relative seclusion and isolation
yet remaining savvy enough to
know that when she was ready,
the only thing to do was to act

Terrible Powerful Wondrous Lizardland

2009-02-01T17:05:00.006-05:00

Arranged, composed and organized by
Big Dawg C

your past

2009-01-30T11:56:00.001-05:00

there is something in your past that’s
holding you back,
something happen to you, a tragedy?
something you regret so much
that it stops you dead in your tracks,
something you did that immediately
shuts you down,
sexually abused,
a different home at every turn,
married then divorced,
think about this for a moment

every single choice, result and
experience has made you who you are,
you are wonderful as you are,
you would be a different person if you
had not had those experiences,
your travels define you, they are you

a single incident, no matter how considerable
or how unimportant, has made you who you are,
and if any of them were to change in even the most
miniscule manor you would be a different person

so take a chill pill

i am the wolf

2009-01-29T13:14:00.006-05:00

i am a wolf, caught in a trap,
despite my unrestrained anger and rage
against the instruments of authority,
the church of consumerism,
and the domination of the establishment

conjuring up spirits, mischievous children
and Beelzebub herself,
the nearness of the medium
causes feelings of vulnerability,
immersed in colors that equals sound,
and thought equals color,
and religion can be explained by a pretty illustration,
or by the embodiment of an imperfect instrument of destruction

insanity is the realm of the saints,
of the mad man that can fore tell the future,
i send these signs through forms and resonance,
and at the exact moment that they were created,
they have been discovered

as i am a sinner,
making works that are visceral,
familiar, recognizable,
they are self-examining and self-exterminating,
these works speak directly,
and in an image-language known to all,
they spring forth from an environment which
is faithful to a deep, profound love of everyone
and everything

i am caught up in between the spiritual
and the material, the eternal and the everyday,
the abstract and the normal world

two distinct approaches can be
scraped together, attempts to integrate
the two domains that surrounds me,
by depicting or incorporating everything
in my environment, from the details
of a daily meal, to the epic drama of passion
or death, and my pre-occupation with
food, sex, love and violent accidents,
is what has been derisively described
as the divine world of a mortal man

2009-01-28T10:02:00.001-05:00

photo by B Dawg C

what more do you want?

2009-01-27T11:33:00.002-05:00

i am right here in front of you,
spilling my guts all over the place,
in these words i write for you,
calling out your name,
calling, calling,
vulnerably, amorously,
obviously, passionately,
scared, frightened, frail,
exposed to you,
take your time,
take all the time you want,
if you cannot bear that much reality,
i will wait for you,
i will still be here for you,
even as you take a hallucinatory trip
around your succulent aura,
from your spooky gothic stylings
to your maddening, spinning,
rupturing psychedelic imagination
alternative reality trap,
from your voyage to the far side,
to your temporary suicide
into a haunted trance state,
from your first fix to your last,
i make a promise to completely except you,
i love you,
what more do you want?

beautiful damage

2009-01-26T12:30:00.002-05:00

with an audience that craves to be dazzled and
beguiled with the maximum feasible dissent,
like the appeal of beautiful damage

while I am fast asleep,
demons and mischievous sprites
are rolling the boulder into the
opening of my glorious ghetto,
the young pup included,
he is gorgeous

this, then, is the principal
and most catastrophic problem,
it is an encounter with
geometry rather than a
passageway to illusion

theatricality and anti-theatricality

2009-01-25T13:37:00.002-05:00

once i had freed myself from the training of the act,
i was accessible and open to a new and appreciative audience

issues concerning the relationship between the
effort and the viewer standing before it became crucial
for my voracious capacities as they had never previously endured

now they prepare themselves for a lengthy,
meditative relationship with the exemplification

this is a theory i have talked about before

i suggest the quandary arises in the division between

theatricality;
when a work looks deliberately outwards
and declares itself to an anticipated audience

and anti-theatricality;
when the elements of a work are constructed
without any visible concession being made to an
audience, or even to the idea of an audience, and
the information within the work belongs to a
world of their own, in other words, when the work
does not require the audience's participation
to make it complete

using both means and methods
of this theoretical equation,
my work is grounded in the belief
that all life is permeated with
the original potency that shaped
the entire universe and resides
in both suppositions and promulgations

spectacular

2009-01-24T14:10:00.002-05:00

creativity is an approached to a type of reinforcement,
that provides an opening, a diversion, a passage,
away from the banal, dull, tedious, dark,
day-to-day habitation of fears, anxiety
and humiliation of even one failure or imprecision,
revealing our desires, making our dreams,
the hope of possibilities, fantasies of the past,
present, and future, even more spectacular

dead, with drugs and a hooker

2009-01-23T00:00:00.002-05:00

at the tragic moment, i seemed to be falling
on the rocks of risk, poverty, petulance,
i was an absolute motherfucker with an attitude

my image of myself had become tarnished,
unreliable, untrustworthy, uninspiring,
a label slapped on a big box of collective anxiety

not exactly a candidate for
Time magazine’s: Person of the Year

more like i, without any help at all,
independently regurgitated a zeitgeist,
it is an all to familiar and powerful picture,
but it is not especially an original visual image

eyes unfocused, sly and a bit beyond
the view, head tilted a bit to the side,
an un-reassuring but amusing smile on my face,
the police said i was found in my hotel room
“dead, with drugs and a hooker”
presumably the hooker was dead too

For my dead friend Ed
??/??/1967 – 01/21/2009

2009-01-22T16:25:00.000-05:00

photo by B Dawg C

practice optimism

2009-01-21T12:25:00.002-05:00

the turnout was remarkable, nearly giddy,
i saw more than a few people crying
happily in a kind of disbelief

masses, crowds and multitudes came together,
in a moment that is by definition,
by description, by design,
out of the ordinary

we found ourselves drawn to the events
that took place this week in washington

at least 2 million,
joined at the hip,
making a cold, wintry pilgrimage,
precisely because the idea that the masses filling
the capital this week in the center of the inaugural
spotlight, says something meaningful,
and it certainly seemed that way

he did not preen or raise his voice,
but appeared entirely conscious of himself

not even the subdued, sombre
and sobering remarks
made by the eloquent orator,
could darken the spirits of the crowd that day,
in the equivalent of the cheap seats,
more than a mile from the stage,
where not even a theoretical,
binocular-enhanced view of the stage was possible,
it seemed to be very clear, it was not the event
but the assembly itself and the promise of hope

power sharing beyond mere
words has a mass appeal,
that's why the sprawling,
crowded scene unfolded on tuesday

faith, the collective turn-out,
at the same time, as a bulwark
against the panicky atmosphere
that has been so pervasive lately,
the masses gathered here seem determined not
only to embrace but actively to practice optimism

I am a lover

2009-01-20T11:12:00.001-05:00

I am a lover. My love is unconditional. I know that is the only way a love can be. I do not have hatred anywhere in my heart. I love myself. I have a love for B Dawg C that is unending, forever, deep and profound. I love all my ex-lovers and I have a special love for my baby mama. I love my family. I love my friends. I love my enemies. I am a lover.

Fear

2009-01-18T11:20:00.001-05:00

everyone fears something,
if not you’re dead and gone.
what do you fear?

a young talent

2009-01-17T13:26:00.000-05:00

he is a young talent, described as a
famous courtier and connoisseur,
he is superior in his sure touch
and liveliness of emotions,
his greatness lies in his inventiveness
and audacious themes and forms,
his perfect portals into human
countenance, is miraculous

he is a favorite of the nobility, the
clergy and the wealthy,
but widely accepted and appreciated
by the common, ordinary middle-classes,
and by the underprivileged and poor

particularly original in his appearance,
articulation, configuration and conformation,
head cocked a bit to the side,
a reassuring but delightful
smile on his lips,
eyes focused slightly above
and beyond the landscape,
a true visionary for sure

6 degrees

2009-01-15T12:02:00.004-05:00

it ain’t about you

2009-01-14T12:40:00.002-05:00

something's been nagging me,
it ain’t about you,
even though you think so

he can put himself deep inside our minds,
and can hang with anyone,
sharing the understanding,
the mining of memories, dreams
and irrational juxtaposition that
we attribute to the best of them,

the most surreal episode is the one in which
the clairvoyant charmer got drunk in a calamity,
zooms off into a hallucination of blaring trombones,
pink elephants, of course, morphing blobs and
infinite regressions, you have never seen anything
to approach it, and neither has anybody else,
this is not a trivial accomplishment

see, i knew you would think it is about you,
but it ain’t

time is on his side

as i walked out of his room,
i mutter that makes more sense
(now, that is about you)

transmutations

2009-01-13T17:16:00.006-05:00

it speaks to him of covert mystery,
anomalies, transmutations and loss

words, images, traces of bodies,
his fascination with metamorphosis, enigmas,
bereavements, death and about-face conversions,
his advance relationship with the sublime
and his associations with unanticipated political forces,
he makes for a delightful and adorable antagonist

with their emphasis on structure, discipline,
disappointment, the confession to a predilection for
things that aren't intended to be seen, heard or written,
human action has a way of impacting on time

so we get a glimpse of the way
these kinds of histories disappear,
through malicious intention and fear,
in the worst sense of the word;
a sanctuary, a comfortable hide out from reality

precious

2009-01-12T11:53:00.000-05:00

lucky you, lucky me,
both of us are ahead of ourselves,
will the entire house of cards
crash in on itself,
leaving the thinnest of messes?
or will some stunning rectification be
embarked on, eventually resulting in a new
adaptation of our little tottering creation?
because i think he is fine the way he is

he goes marching on and on,
what is absolutely certain is that his
happiness comes right out of the sky,
and that we should receive it with open arms

his world has been spent metamorphosing
into something gracious and precious,
he knows that there is hope for him someday

arc angel

2009-01-11T17:46:00.000-05:00

idealism was unavoidable,
a perfectionist through and through,
seeking effervescent spume with precision

connoisseurs have never quite lost track
of him, once you've seen his conquests,
his best one's are so obviously gorgeous and
beguiling that you wonder why they aren't
all over the place as obscene post cards

few other figures, icons, idols,
ever have had their mix of powerful emotions,
wild eccentricity and convincing reality,
as this arc angel does

…kissing…strip…touch…butterfly…..
a thick frothy substance…cream…crying out,
open up the vault,
release the teeming swarm
of malevolent celestial immortelles,
skyward and beyond

it may be the perfect picture,
its floating, dreamily, wistfully mutilated torsos,
tied down with a single strap of rubber,
so worshipers below can take it in from any spot

and yet that also means that
there's no stable order to hang on to,
no single take-home message
you can pull out of its turmoil

churches, now have similar images on there ceilings,
probably without knowing that they owe them to
an atrociously wicked, cruel, ill-tempered creature

heaviness

2009-01-10T20:28:00.006-05:00

there is a heaviness about me tonight,
as if the walls might cave in on me

and yet there are the thinly veiled intentions

how much time has got to pass?
looking crafty as a victim,
its all so much sensationalized moral seriousness

laughing through the pain,
she is wishing for me to die

you are victim enough for me, i won’t play one

FRIENDSHIP

2009-01-09T13:05:00.006-05:00

a specialist in the field said to me,
it's not uncommon to get an X-ray
and find a completely different problem underneath,
but cannibalizing your own son in the process
is a very rare thing in deed

how could you say those terrible things in front of him?
how come you can’t stop yourself?
how is it that she keeps putting him through this,
over and over again

even scholars of the subject have been
dismissive of her enormous remakes

she changes her mind
about the subject,
cut the original story to
rearrange the pieces she
didn't like, then…

but its turning out that it is a
lot more complex than anyone thought,
it is equivalent to a cut-and-paste
job of our only son

he made a surprising discovery,
as he shakes his tiny finger,
back and forth,
he said ”… now…now… you are adults,
I am only a little kid,
I got a better way…FRIENDSHIP”

avoiding anything being forced

2009-01-08T11:28:00.001-05:00

we talk about a sustained contemplation on observation,
perception and translation, all concerning intimacy,
objects, community and politics, abstraction and
representation

there is an underlying approach that we
hope that gives everything we create, a fundamental cohesion,
we trust that, if we consider something carefully enough,
a greater essence or truth might be revealed
without having a prescribed meaning,
we've trusted in this approach from the start,
and we have to find that trust again and again
when we feel affection for each other

really looking and observing is hard,
and you find that you can't do it by following a formula

what connects all these worldly efforts is finding the right balance
between intention and chance, by doing as much as
can be done and knowing when to let go,
allowing fluidity and avoiding anything being forced

01/05/2009

2009-01-06T22:08:00.005-05:00

Hospital.
Lung contusion.
Skin contusions.
Broken rib.
Cracked ribs.
Sledding accident.
Still can’t kill the rooster.

excessively vain

2009-01-05T11:40:00.001-05:00

it couldn't come at a worst time,
as a excessively vain undiscovered operator,
the tot is not likely to make the industry quiver,
it's not the right time for monotonous intellectualism
and it doesn’t take much to please me

an obstinate American,
quirkiness infuses every effort,
starting back in the pompous neonate’s
elementary training

the fairy has systematically worked
it’s way through various schemes,
in it’s quest for self-declared success,
a fallen player? or a whore? or both?

both

but it does not matter,
because its not working

since then, defiant trends have subverted,
this ugly hearted capricious monstrous
survivor’s uncannily navigations,
through a dishonorable path

the company you keep,
you’re foolin with devils,
they are cons and frauds,
it is so much seudo intellectualism,
it is all self-grandiose, pompous,
vulnerable narcissistic doo-doo,
sometimes reaching delusional proportions,
can’t stand the bla bla bla-ification bull shit,
i’ve deleted the “P” cause i’m going to use it later

i’ll be right here,
like a thought that you can’t
get out of your head

so, stay tuned, are you intrigued?

phuk off

affairs of the heart

2009-01-04T17:20:00.004-05:00

imperfect, yet magical,
but as in most affairs of the heart,
logic is beside the point

life, it just goes on and on,
getting harder and harder

she wishes death for me,
what are you? nuts or something!
i will outlive all of you

you can’t kill the rooster

China Girl

2009-01-03T11:23:00.005-05:00

trace elements of China Girl,
carefully sorted drops and drips,
equipment - needles, spoons, bowls, lines and faces

she embraces artists, composers, poets, philosophers,
amateurs, cranks, enthusiasts and innocent bystanders,
impracticality, and one kind of impossibility or another,
is all part of her charm

and all this is very tiresome,
damn by association,
those who had anything to do with her

alluring, you are her servant,
bossing you around for years,
then she perform summary excommunications,
banishing those who displease her

dispirited despots, suckers and pro’s are her victims,
travesty and tragedy it’s only result

New Years Eve

2009-01-02T12:07:00.011-05:00

photos by B Dawg C

coquette

2009-01-01T10:59:00.006-05:00

goddess, coquette,
an image of a divinity,
who is she?

a powerful sexual being,
a romantic, a wanton vixen,
she is exalted and highly stylized,
her ineffable power to capture the
imagination of those men that
make a bed of roses for her,
is overwhelming

an extremely eager,
energetic agent,
a gun in her hand,
with a burning desire
to pull the trigger

she is a dangerous femme fatale,
a magician fulfilling wishes,
she has a mythos of her own,
a female figurine, like the iconic Venus of Willendorf,
a ripe goddess, a wiccan, a pagan protector,
a seductress, tease, vamp, flirt, a woman