Clean

The clean blue boy
riding on his bike
Ring a ding a ling
Zooms passer by

None the matter he's blue
It'll always be
Shame deep inside
At his heart; different shade of gray

He never spoke to a stranger
Scented candles on his locker
Next to Fabian's fables.


x x x

Where's the original you?
I don't recognize this intake
Remember the old boxes on the wooden floor
Packed memories

I used to like you much better
When you burned at the stake
And I rescued you and gave you a place to stay
Now, you ask not to leave

In the stream No. 573

A long time ago
A couple days ago;
You used to make me shine
The light flickers on and off
Compliments that burn inside
As you look around the familiar room
Search. Search for someone to hang on to
You never read the sign.
Welcome. Welcome to my desolate room.
View from the windows are my eyes
Starring back at you.
Isn't it what you wanted. Finally get to see what I do.
Lost inside my pyramid. My labyrinth. My maze. My bookshelf of riddles.
Put here to confuse.
And it's you, it's you. All up to you.
And have you ever. Have you ever seen a bird?
Seen a bird grin? Mocking your grounded thoughts.
Who'll pull the trigger? Can't buy what you sell.
Disfigured centrifuge in your brain.
Stop. Stop to communicate.
It's like that and this but I don't care.
Go out the back door and run to what you know.
Sad, sad flightless bird.

Wishing is for Dreamers

and dreaming is for sleepers. That's why people with insomnia are so zany. They're living out their dreams in the real world. Must be awesome.

I used to have nightmares. Do all kids have nightmares? Or was I just a pussy? Never had a nightmare after watching Titanic. That movie was such a life changer. Not enough ships/things sink nowadays. Where's the next generation going to get their love stories from?

April is always a slow month. Creatively, spiritually, metaphysically...it's just soo slow. In fact, I have a theory; girls, animals, gheys named April tend to be slow, full of allergies, weird weather (is it going to rain or not April?! Fuck!!)

At least Virginia is trying to have a month long celebration of Confederacy appreciation. I guess the Confederacy was a "big deal" back in 18k something but they failed because they loved black people so much they wanted to keep them really close. It was just one of those unhealthy relash where one becomes the property of someone else. I traveled back in time...zoom zoom voom goom hoom jum. And I was in the Confederacy, I guess Virginia. It was nice. I can see why Virginia is for lovers. I brought my MacBook, in order to document my excursion. Tocqueville didn't have a MacBook to my knowledge. I knew I had an advantage. I had the option of vlogging, blogging, making sweet infographics that don't mean anything but make me look like I know some shit, show my tweeps, facers and the online community my work and go viral for 15 minutes. Tocquesville is rolling in his grave, the old bastard never saw an iPod, I thought.
But, I couldn't find a WiiFi connection. I know the South is mainly white, backward thinking ratards but not even one coffee house with some WiiFi?? That's when I knew things were about to become weird. After glommed the situation in which it was impossible to connect to the InterWebs, I realized how fucking useless computers are. Like a TV without HD or a girl with no tits and/nor ass.
It was hot and the air was still. It smelled like 18k-something. I sat under an apple orchard and wished I had the ability to retain all the history bullshit I read throughout the years. But, the past was all the more present and surprising for the unlearned traveler. The stillness and silence under the apple orchard was getting me hungry or horny. I wasen't sure. I never knew how to distinguish those two feelings since I was a tween going through puberty. Ever since, every time I am hungry I am horny. And every time I am horny I become hungry. It worked out in the end. Mixing food with sexual pleasure and vice versa is the perfect compliment. So, I was getting horny/hungry. I picked an apple and felt proud. I had finally done something with my hands. This is how a hard-working blue-collar man feels like every day. I clicked on the conspicuously named folder "Boring Files" and opened my On-The-Go Porn Mixtape 2010. Three more hours of battery life; that's plenty of time, I thought. I opened King Dong and Mary Jane. The reviews were mostly inviting and had an up-and-coming (no pun) cast. Naturally, King Dong was played a black gentleman who was well endowed. Mary Jane was played by a white lolita, cute by porn standards. 18k something didn't seem all that bad anymore. Until, I had the displeasure of meeting Mill Captain Joe or Cpt Joe ride by and hear Mary Jane scream fro dear life. He galloped on over to what he thought was a maiden's cries for help. I instantly recognized Cpt Joe had never seen a white bitch get boned by a black guy. I tilted the screen over so he check it out and gave a sly grin. I had never seen the expression worn on Joe's face. It was discomoforting to say the least. Kinda made me feel like I was a sick perv for watching porn after having magically time traveled instead of checking out the sites and talking to the locals. I guess i knew Hollywood would eventually make a movie about it. So, why go through the trouble?
After catching his breath, Joe asked, "What in the devils name do you got there boy?! That negro is raping that women in your shinny white box."
"Yeah he sure is giving it to her." I said.
"I reckon you agree with this atrocity?!" Joe said.
"Huh," I was dumbfounded. Felt lousy for watching porn in 18k something but I thought atrocity was a strong word.
"Yeah I can see why some might not like it but damn she's fine, just look...look..damnnn, she's dirty alright."
"I will have you arrested for this immediately!"
"Oh no dude chillax, it's just porn OK. I was just chillin eating an apple, you see I get horny when I am hungry,"
"The rape of a white lady by some lowly negro warrants death, sir."
"Rape? No, no, no you got it all wrong. She totally wants it."
"That's impossible no woman would want to be with such a beast."
"Whoa that's a bit harsh. You know we're going to have a half-African American president one day."
Cpt. Joe's head was literally steaming with furor. It was anger that bordered on comedy.
He steered his horse up the road and rode away.
I put the MacBook to sleep to conserve some battery life and tried to take a nap under the shade of an apple tree. It felt like 30 minutes. I heard trotting and stamping in the far reaches of the road. By the time I came to get up the police chief, soldiers and angry people surrounded me.
"Hey, yall. I am from the future. Just kinda landed here. I love blacks..err I meant I love white people."
They weren't sold. I tried to be as Southern American as I could but their lack culture, stripping the sarcasm, proved hard to imitate. Dumbly I blurbed, "Do yall have a Cracker Barrel In Town?"

And the wheels began spinning. Before I knew I was dizzy with confusion. And who really cares? And who will have sympathy for the devil?

Something is telling me I am completely wrong. Being lied to by the cloaks and all the walls.
That I can't see past. There's a drummer, I hear him near. Blazing tune to the righteous path.
I've been lied by my youth. There's no ex deus machina in the end.

I wear this burdened cross for you. Prickly wood against my chest. But, it's your love that gets me through
and willing to search-for your emerald eyes.

I came across Poseidon, he was drunk from your love, telling me he loves you still. Three steps behind your celestial grace.
The drummer is all the time nearer, joined by a 6 string melody. It's not completely right but it's good. It reminds me of you.

Oh oh and the glue that sticks me to you, is all over him now.
And your breath is so sobering. I can't let you close to me.

I pick up my guitar at night in despair. While you're in front of a vanity somewhere-thinking what to wear.
Abondened my your light that once shone white bright. I am lost now in a dark room, why have you forsaken me?
A rare, lonely vagabond of dark seas not leading to no where. Won't you lead me to dry land before I disappear.

Everybody step aside. I;ll climb the sunset stairway on the way to your porcelain noose.
This love is not old or new. Rsvping reservations to a private screening.