Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Delhi Drive.

Lines on the road, 
Mere suggestion 
No typed note 
Can explain, 
Need to get back to writing again
With book and pen.

It's alive outside
And I'm stuck in bed 
With my sleepy head.

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Little plane, little map
Little leg room
Little cramps
Ears are popping 
A day to ellipse the map.
From  tonight to day, tomorrow
Losing a half day to the earths spin
Pass by the windows like the wonders under the clouds.
Steadily descending now
Ears about to explode,
Twitching with the lack of nicotine
And a coffee overload.
Dumb not to bring gum
Head set to implode.
City lights 
Of Delhi from above
Coming in in the dark night
Spinning over and over 
Hovering round 2600 and coming down now air speed  290 180
Alt . 449 422. 393 372

And the earth touches the wheels, the cabin reals fighting
Here at last.

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Friday, January 27, 2012

Yesterday tomorrows

 I embark
On my journey 
To the East.
Temples of the ages,
Cathedrals of a different faith.
Vegetation and desolation,
Beyond anything I've seen.
A vacation from where I've always been.
The more I read ahead
The more vibrant and unrealistic my ideals seem.
Dreaming of paradise unspoiled by man, preparing for the rude awakening.
Preparing to be angry
At fellow tourists ignorance
Never fully comprehending my own.
Preparing to lash out like a cornered cat, hoping it doesn't come to that.
Preparing to be enthralled, then gradually annoyed by the noise.
I don't want to wear the color jade,
Want to taste the riches and leave the rest to spit, but even the sweetest dish, when allowed to gestate, turns to shit.
Tonight I take a vow
To bite off only what I can chew,
relax and let the world take me,
Not for a fool,
But for the soul I am.
I wish for a safe journey
For my family and I
Tomorrow is the beginning of
No one knows.

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Monday, January 16, 2012


Hidden down on level 5
Boys and toys, inventing
recycled parts
the art of trying, spinning blindly
to fast to be controlled
a contest to see
The limits of ability.
originality is always a combination
of ideas, origins seated in history.
Level 5 below,
testing theory in the orange lights glow.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Come To Gather

All the boys in the room, soon to spread across the seas, soon to conquer foreign shores, soon to find the answers, the truth or what we're looking for. connective in respective ways.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Rent due

Rent collector
Breaking legs,
Says "Disabled,
You'll be more able bodied to beg."
Wrapped in cloth
Yesterday's duds
Today's rags.
Stained with puddle jumping
Alley humping ways,
A waste of talent
Wasting away.
Black eyes that don't wash away.
The minds fortress
crumbling to decay
A shell of a man
Sounds like the ocean
Sweat stained salt water delirious.
All the bridges burned,
Ashes flowing down troubled waters.
Was my own messiah
Till I began to let me down,
Blaspheming cause I don't believe in me.
Waiting for my second coming,
To turn another buck
And hope he doesn't beat me.
Sitting here waiting
In a rickety old chair
Swaying to stay warm
With the water edging in
Ever closer to my shelter.
I tell myself I had no choice
But it is clear I did,
I could have obeyed
Instead of baying like an angry dog
Biting every hand that tried to save.
Now a slave of the street
A cruel bitch who never listens
Cold sidewalk
Reflecting puddle broken
By dark leather shoes
I look up and he looks into me.
"Do you got my fuckin rent yet boy?"
Another kick to my shattered leg
To my battered ego,
"Try harder you useless piece of shit, don't make me tell your mother all the trouble you've put me through."
"yes sir, sorry sir" sniveling at my fathers feet.

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Tuesday, January 10, 2012


The closer I get
To wetting my feet
In the Indian ocean
In the Ganges,
Heart beats faster.
Am I prepared to face the dare
A big white face
In a land of corrupt brown cops.
My only shield
The Canadian shield,
And a damsel for when I'm distressed.
Busy plotting planes on a plain
An environment full of variables
A world away.
Coming off the fence
Hit ground running,
Broken ankles or break into song
Two weeks and a bit
To get my shit in order
Needles and visas
Body follows the mind
Need to unbind it from the grip of fear and clear it
To the fact
I have a return flight.
A step out of the winter
Not a leap from my real life.
Days of travel to unravel
The cramped mind.
Days of travel cramped in the upright position
Preparing for takeoff.

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Ticking the list,
Ticking clock.
Three weeks till the third world
Something not experienced
In my relatively bourgeoise existence,
Say I've been through hell and back,
But I could still drink the water there
Sit on the shitter.
Afraid of my disease
A uneasiness of a mattress with fleas,
Lost in a place
I can't read every sign I see again.
Want to drop my guard
Poorer then most poor
Training for a future
I can afford.
I'm not going alone
A native guide and lover
Never travelled a pair
Chained to another's sensibility
Hoping I don't self destruct
Hoping to fall in love again and again.
Still sinking in.
First the needles
Then the flight.

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Saturday, January 7, 2012

when it rains it pours.

Steady flow,
as she goes,
when she stops,
nobody knows.

I remember,
Not much,
too hard to touch.
I remember everytime I bled,
Seen red,
Buried the dead.

Been corrupted, losing that, sense of innocence. Or trying to rebuild, on something that is broken.

And everytime,
a new memory becomes a new part of me,
I get lost, trying to hold that feeling.

Thinking only the words between,
Jumbled, fumbled, archaic mess.

Human nature, tend to put yourself down, when you're at your best.

If I'm pulling a 98%, 100.. hooraaahhhh... yea.. you better expect better.
That type of thought brings, the bread and butterr.

Sometimes, I feel like one of those horses rid off until it's last leg..
Or even if I was Clint Eastwood, and you insulted my horse, and I wasn't taking it, and I shot you down before my last drag.

Or I even analyzed you before you even reacted after taking the piss, even on my leg.

I don't say much and there is a reason for it.
Maybe I'm broken, I twitch when I sit.

Or maybe it's all the hype of nothing.

Yeah, you know.. talk, talk, wouldn't that be something?

I'm suprised, in all the days I've fought for,
that I haven't past out on the floor,
gone completely blind.
There is something some might not see, but it is what I truly hide behind.
It's that shell of a man, holding back my screams.
And the mistakes I've made, building the foundation of my dreams.

garden your soul, and it shall grow.

Friday, January 6, 2012


I'll be lost among the wreckage.
Hidden in the bramble,
The wild ramble of life in shambles;
Crushed on the highway
Between Gremlins and trolls.
Purloined letters
Placed carefully between others,
A whisper in the hurricane.
A digital stain on your dirty window pane.
Passed off front pages
To the Gb graves
Lost to infinity, no immunity,
No one is saved.

Please visit www.nonnegativearts.com, thanks.