12.12.12.12:12 + Well, thats it. Its over. And if there is some great awakening goin on, a shift in consciousness, then its into a low gear, so as to haul humanity up out of self hatred, out of self centeredness, out of dellusion and into a freedom of the body and mind, not so much from ourselves or another human oppressor, but from these ideas, these abstracts that keep a good man down. Now we have no excuse to be afraid, to be angry, to be trapped, even in a cage, even under torture we can choose to forgive, each other and ourselves. The good Lord's Mercy has come in the form of clear vision. Look around you. See the truth, the veil is lifted. There is no seperation from the soul, from the truth. Your circumstances ARE you, and you are your circumstances. I know we all like a good metaphor, but reality is the expanse of our total experience, the great equallizer.

I drive sometimes, walk others, crawl too. Sometimes i take a pill. Sometimes i drink water. These are the things that are making me. My dog, my cat. My lover, my friend, my family. I am in control of nothing, not even myself, but am as a question, always being balanced by an answer. I have no excuse to seek control, only to observe both sides of the equation, and know that God has crafted the math itself, and that what i am experiencing is only his Mercy, even in the midst of Wrath, his Love, even with so much hate. I cant stop watching, cant turn away, edge of my seat, falling in, waking up to a cosmic show, tuned out to the tune of a world spinning beyond the boundaries of the spirit and the body, into the frontier of the true covenant between me and God, the end of times, the beginning of eternity. Here we go!

HEARING ROOM + Upstairs at 201 Poplar there is a room where people take shits on each other and i have the toilet paper to prove it. I know that people need advocates, because there are monsters out there. All kinds of em. Men, women, groups, anti groups, giant bugs that breathe fire. I wonder if it werent so easy to file a restraining order, would i be sitting among them. If i lived in a place where blood fury still ruled, would i have even been ensnared in the web of babylon at all, its whore architect (u know who u are) poised, in a cacoon of her own fear, to crash down on me with the full support of the law. Would i have been driven by love to murder? Would my friends be forced to lynch me without remorse? Would they sing laments of this and the sins of my fathers that have also become legend? Sometimes, in the erie glow of the light of babylon it is hard to remember that not all men are batterers, not all women are whores, not all blacks are niggers, not all goverments are corrupt, and not all giant bugs that breathe fire are attracted to shit, but some of them are, and with a vengeance.

GUESS WHAT + in the beginning i saw what erbody else sees, innocence and spark, the dawn, like a newborn, softness, real compassion. I wanted to be what she wanted me to be. I wanted her to want me. Resentful and painful now, all of it. I still see the innocence, and i see the not so innocent, and i still Love it, by my actions. It is the shame i am fighting. Her shame and mine. I do not regret this anger, only that i have regretted so much in the past, felt ashamed of so much, judged, been judged, and now am reeping a shallow harvest, one without real roots, cept those that were there before. She is not okay, though she is still herself. She is strong enough to beat her body down forever it seems, i know, but there will be a moment when she cannot keep going anymore, just like mark. I know time will catch all of us off guard eventually. I really do wish her happiness, even with her new love. I am proud for sticking to her guns through all my shit, through the glass breaking and the crying, but nothing can change what is in my heart, broken as it may be. I will go on crying if need be, and if i thought killing entire forests or raking the sea with cyanide would make her see the parts of me that loved her, the parts i loved she maybe wouldnt hide so much behind the drugs or the clothes or the t&a or the newest place/people/thing that she is running to, and maybe she would grow those parts some more like she did when we were good together, and maybe she wouldnt throw them out with the stubborn fool that accidentally tricked her into being good to herself, then told her she wasnt worth it, then made her hang on anyway. I am sorry, not for the windows, or the fights, or the tears, but for ever holding back anything that u asked me for. Your love deserves better than that. You know it now, but i hate that im the one that did it, and i hate that  all the good we did fer each other never meant a hill a beans next to our own lust, devices, fear. We were together once, and now we're not, and i see red when i look left of my front door or pass a black montero on the road, and there aint no one around cause all i talk about is my pain all the time and though i made my bed, i am definitely not the one sleeping in it.

steak n shake + mark died two days ago now. damn queen. he could curse his way out of the labrynth. saw a conscious being in tiny statues and figurines and related to them as if he were their gaurdian. he was mine. even into death. his last drive in the caddy was to pick me up from jail. his last joint smoked was with me in the night air. his last steps into my sinking house and the jaring reality of its constant state of confusion. and yet death took him on with no thought of me in mind, or his whereabouts, or what he was wearing, fer that matter. stark naked. black socks. so beautiful. a 56 year old man, tufts of skin on the end of his nose, chosen look of frustration, the beat down, the pen went out of ink, always the ultimate victim, gay, southern, wounded, poor, white, trash, man, woman, whichever suited him best at the moment. in the end i didnt feel sorry for him at all. he wore his death like a queen wears a royal gown, and even his wretched sisters had to bow down. i wonder if he was still there when i propped him up, leaving him there to be seen, to be naked. i think one should always pay the body respect, but be the most gentle in death.  i think he was the most gentle ol bitch ive ever met. stubborn fool. whose fault is it but your own?

pnj's + u aint gotta be a jerk. nobody really cares what he thinks. sharing is caring. i thrive to be a douche bag. dont know y i know how i know how to spell that. i love to say the word. i wanna hear j play another song. sunday is the best day. fucking excellent shows, on the radio. old punk rock. psychadelic and metal. its weird. u get used to bein round small dogs that are irritating. sounds like his voice. its marys birthday. thirty six n kickin dicks. i lack a destination, but ill wear the shirt when im sixty. its a unicorn wearin an 8 ball. its pretty awesome. i just turned thirty. already kickin dicks.

sup + i gave her my best shot. she shot me down
she had me in her sights as the man
she showed no fear, she took the stand
she had me lookin just like a clown
i gave her my best shot, she shot me down
my vision was hasy, id lost my aim
didnt have the time to find someone to blame
but ya should have heard the sound.
i gave her me best shot
and she shot me down.

WATCH THE BIRDIE + is it u im tryin to get a hold of? my momma? my son? my self? why are u so slippery, so sovereign? cherries have more control over gravity than these feeble arms have over a God like you. You just take everything over, do it all to yer own glory, write yer own story, the size of the universe itself. dont i get a chapter? a page? a breif of dialogue?  u have written so much of my story, least i know u held the pen in yer hand. now how does my story sound to you? is there wrath in store for me? compassion? hatred on your lips, or understanding?  you are not stupid, but perhaps i am for not always curling up in prayer at your feet, not putting real roots in yer dirt, not growing from your light, all this time. holding on to you holding on to me. let go, let God, let go.

Dunday Morning + Corn wiskey in my coffee at 10 its no wonder im pissing in the bed at night. Likens itself to the rest of the shit i eat fer breakfast everyday. The whole world is full of preservtives, little peices that crowd out the meat, cling to the cells, stay there forever. Society has been declared to last forever and it only even exists in our minds. We are making it like its meth, and im so high i cant hear the smoke alarms goin off. Theres enough in my brain to shake a stick at, but most peolple got theirs stuck up their ass, so the smoke just thickens till an explosion is inevitable, and everybody ends up running around in public, trying to keep their skin on. Ive only heard that story. never seen it in real life. What I have seen looks like corn wiskey poured in my coffee by hard werkin hands on a Sunday morning, its strong, is bad fer yer health, and even in the throws of it i can hear you reaching out for the leaves and the promises of the earth and moon and fire and God. we'll shortly have no other place to go, i spose, if the stories are true. i just hope we can get out of our skin before EVERYTHING goes up in flames.

full monty + so there i was, naked, in the full light of the sun, under the eyes of everybody and the Lord. All my junk was hangin out. im gettn skinnier, look sickly. top half looks like the grinch and the bottom like tinkerbell. lies and the culture round em paint a picture of stress on my face, the eyes say stay away from me. somebody told me i dont get enough affection. damn straight, id say, and it shows. everybody knows my habits, my lurking in the dark corners, my crying in the street, reving my engine, breaking glass. dont judge me. i am not someone else. i am you. and fer God's sake will somebody give me my clothes?

And so its back at it. Decidedly this summer swished by and me with it. You may have seen me out and about, who knows, maybe I healed your sick dog, or fixed your steps. I don't remember, but how are you? I saw you dancing at the Metal Museum, to rave music. I saw you drinking alone at Murphy's at three in the afternoon. I heard you on the radio, cringing about something to music. You've had a busy summer, too.
And now autumn is here. It is raining here in Memphis for the first time in two months. The wind drives it in on horseback, whipping the poor things with metal tipped tails! The trees are falling down in its rush, dried out to the point of breaking. The earth is soaking it up in boxes. I am staying inside, not like the birds. They are swimming.
I did get out this morning though. Raced out to pay rent, forcing Ms. Bantura off of her oxygen. She was winded at the door as I counted the money slowly. The rain had stopped for only a moment, and I drove back to town to get a cup of coffee. The deck became a waterfall as we smoked cigarettes and talked of the storms damage so far. Blackness, wetness, doors slamming, leaks, a crushed motorbike, mud.