Dare to write
Writing your dreams, desire, sex, love and passion
Whatever that may be
You can see your thoughts colliding with concrete written form
It’s bare and exposed
Lighting a way through the dark reality of human consciousness
Blessed with the food, shelter, family friends
Give thanks when you write
Nobody is promised tomorrow
Everybody does but not everybody lives.
Weary eyes and sore muscles. A devine sense of self; I rest
Laying on my blanket in a hoodie and pajamas in my home along the river
In the cold and rainy northwest. Along the Pacific ocean and mountain peaks
The humid air and ocean breeze I listen to the train whistle blow
Resting my eyes and awake I sleep.
Is run free even possible. Run? Free?
Occupying the same sentence but..
Polar opposites; Yet I combine them
Running down my street; fast as I can
The road ends; I’m met with water
So I dive in; truly running free
Weightless bliss and the world…
Is lifted off of my shoulders.
The b girl t girl it’s me world
Dancing n Stompin on leprechauns
Graff writer, the morning apple biter
Squattathon apple bottom horizontal
Leg lifts n vegan dish, Splishy splash
Free as a bird with the fish. eez
People come n go like the train
I run with my wife n son in the rain
Never in vain; kinda broke
Stains on my shirt;
I don’t complain, sip n trip
Go to the skatepark n rip
a concrete wave.
Good morning earth
And what will you bring me today
For you have given me too much
Spoiled rotten but I’m thankful
Welcoming the sunrise
With all of my soul
Lucky to be alive another day
Abbot street; an old opium den. The Sun Ah hotel.
The elevator shaft once brought up. the heroin.
Now your blankets and trash are discarded in the rusted abyss.
The distinct smell of crack and meth house mixed with cigarettes, mold and bed bug spray.
Yet when times were rough indeed we still strived to achieve our dreams through tears and fears and thick and thin.
I watched over you and you watched over me. I miss you dearly J bird; rest in peace.
I’ll meet you in a ghetto in the sky and we’ll put a studio in our trap.
Vegan mango fruit juices and topical tropical psychedelic ganja.
I promise you I’m doing good down here and thinking of you my friend.
For me it’s almost like there’s no one left and I can’t wait to see you instead.
We can view the memoirs of our lives mixed and mastered plastered onto the sands of time.
Where do Angels go when they die? I hope to see you again; in the ghetto in the sky.
Love songs sweetheart
Art love make n heartache
Black as infinity
Holy like bible Trinity
In love with false prophets
False promises are honest
When lies entail
I vacate prevail
Ascend with open sails
New love is a new world
Middle passage or mountains
I’ll move them; attracted;