A Disturbance In The Force

The last drop of The Witch’s Brew passes between the lips

it takes control of the hips & makes the body dip on an unworthy stick

if only there was a way to forget

Wait a minute. Something’s wrong.

I’ve already taken the last sip.

The cauldron is empty.

now what?

I’ve got a bad, bad feeling…that this has happened before.

I put the key in the door but it was already unlocked from the disturbance from the time b4.

Therefore

I go to The Witch to get another batch.

She groans in a gravely hum

“Surely you haven’t finished the last order already? What could you possibly need it for? You’ve only just hatched.”

I walked away without a reply. No sense in applying a layer of logic on top of the illogical. It’s like spraying a bottle of pungent perfume over body odor.

It’d only highlight what was meant to be erased.

what now?

Posting a blog post, I suppose.

well. I may as well go back over yonder.

bc I know if the only thing The Witch will loan me right now is an itch

I know good & well

someone else (or something)

will give me what I need.

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Site Update/A Jaded Community Pool

How is everyone? Anyone still read this site? Ok, good. Here’s what I’ve thinking about lately.

I recently realized that I’ve had this blog for several years now. The rules of Time are something I respect but don’t follow at all.

It doesn’t even feel that long ago. I remember the night I signed up on WordPress. I didn’t have a plan & I can’t rightly say that I do now.

With that said, I’ve grown a lot since I started this blog; emotionally, spiritually, and more. My life is in a different direction & it only makes sense that the things I share on this blog reflect that. I never want to force content & I’ve realized I’ve been having difficulty with creating.

So. I have a lot of ideas swimming around in my head & too much planning is causing them to drown and make me feel over-hydrated. I don’t where shore is exactly but I’m picking a direction and going that way, full speed ahead.

Here is the space for any feedback you’d like to share/or any questions you’d like to ask about my work & this blog. Whether positive or negative. Whether you’ve been following me for a while or you’re just tuning in.

I want to hear from you. I only ask you be constructive & courteous.

Ofcourse.

you are just as young & old as you have ever been

in spite of what you may have heard –
wicked words flowing from the mouths of lesser men
crackpot perspectives developed in the smog of opium dens

cobwebs left undusted.
specters roaming nearly-forgotten halls – unwanted.

if youth weren’t set upon a pedestal
the ramifications could be beyond incredible

instead

the future will continue to haunt the present
while the past downs another depressant

Fret

aliengum

I revel in myself
with the simple phrase “I am.”

in this technicolor climate with city lights that blind so massive
an insidious canopy, puppeteering the masses with translucent threads made of impassiveness

I’m just another unorthodox soul sending smokescreen signals throughout the land
telling whomever listens that I’m worth a good goddamn

to flaunt one’s irregular imperfections so boldly is considered by many to be the work of dark magic

huduvoodoo

isn’t it tragic? for oppression to be so prominent without any mention of pragmatics?

I’ll keep growing into a galactic primadonna
pirouetting through vibrant nebulae
psych’o’delic wisps of cosmic slop swirling around my ankles
constellations forming from the curls of my fro’
dark matter fluff creating intergalactic diamonds in the rough

Yes I’m made of all of this and more, interestingly enough.

The Banished Ones vs The Aristocratics. I wonder, I wonder, who’s actions are truly more dramatic..?




“I am.”

maybe you too but I’m sure you already knew




thank you.





Swinging Ditty from a Misunderstood

[Author’s note: best if song is played when shown]


an Irish’d-coffee to warm the belly on an overcast morning. no plans for the day. a kind of day where casual walks takes me to wherever my feet decide, without a care in the world. While absentmindedly staring at my phone, a peculiar sound caught my ear.

[snap    snap    snap    snap    snap]

there he was. standing under a small pine tree on top of a hill.

a teen boy in skinny jeans and a tshirt 3 sizes too big, singing out in a booming baritone with a growling edge, snapping fingers keeping a steady groove…

taking another sip, I listened to what he had to say:

I’m Mr. Big Mouth
At least, that’s what the legend states
Oh, Mr. Big Mouth
Nothin’ ever ever goes my way

As far back as third grade
teachers always would say
“Boy, ya ain’t nothin’ but trouble,
keep runnin’ ya mouth ya gonna get a muzzle!”

Not stopping to think maybe, just maybe
I was just a wee bit afraid

Not stopping to question, “Hey
maybe this kid knows a lil something about just how fucked up life is!
maybe we should [perhaps] do more than grill him [oh gosh maybe!]
about why he didn’t bother [who even cares?]
to finish his pop quiz!”

But noooooo, they called me Big Mouth
too smart for my own good
and the legend grew
throughout my childhood

I’m Mr. Big Mouth
just tryna make my way
Oh, Mr. Big Mouth
clashin’ with the birds of prey…..

i couldn’t help but notice that behind him was a high school in session & it was 10:30am on a weekday.
i walked over to him, so transfixed, i didn’t even question where the horns were coming from.

a general life rule of mine: if a street musician makes you stop and listen for a moment, you owe them a dollar.
i gave him $100.

THank y-you SO M-m-much,” his voice squeaked out, a puberty-wrecked contrast to the rumbling resonance of his song. He stuffed the bills in a pocket of a tattered bookbag that lay by his feet, overflowing with crumpled school papers. He flashed me a bright blended smile that revealed naivety with an undercoat of Sly.

i tipped my coffee to him with a grin and continued on my way. i heard a rhythmic snapping begin again as he faded away with distance.

I’m Mr. Big Mouth…





instrumental song credit: All Bets Are Off [Cuphead Soundtrack]

Climb Abored

an anchor, 7 stories high & twice the tons

passengers without tickets shuffle up the stairs uninvited

i’ve got many guns. time to play Russian Roulette

oh you think i don’t? then what’s this?

.       .       .

everyone’s quiet now.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

shooting blanks. everyone’s delighted.

most of them clapping their hands, enjoying the spectacle, gay as can be

it’s all a circus

& then a man as tall as a hundred year old tree

walks up to me

& says: “perhaps you should relax. you gave me and some others quite a fright”

poor fools. they don’t even know the caliber of plight afoot

i toss the the useless weapons overboard. they clang against a wooden platform down below & are picked up by a group of rowdy teenagers, whom hoot & holler and run off into an alley with their new toys

we’re still at shore.

i sigh a heavy sigh. i wasn’t looking for death, just something more

for i know…

i find my cabin lodgings easily, at the very top of the ship

leaving the other passengers to do as they please

folding my hoodie into the drawer, kicking my shoes off under the bed

accepting the via blasé of what’s to come

for i know…

an anchor, 7 stories high & twice the tons

we aren’t going anywhere
not anymore

When The Music Stops

when the music stops…
last note from the last song fades into the background
the album’s spin is through…

that’s when you hear the sound
of an echo turning blue

then you feel the freeze
colder than the arctic

silence

a lead-footed frost nips at your ears
’cause there’s no sound
to muffle the splashing of your tears