Gender: Male
Status: Married
Age: 101
Sign: Aries
State: OHIO
Country: US
Signup Date:
03/07/06
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May 14, 2008 - Wednesday
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REpost : Golgotha - Gunslinger Inspired
Category: Writing and Poetry
Into the Golgota I fell .. Golgotha wow, so that is where I was , I'm chewing Dust , and when I blink my eyes I see a large foot come down and kick me , The whole world turn upside down , and loses color , When the color returns I am looking into what looks like a cheesy sci-fi hologram it reads, it reads…..I recognize it as one of my old works …….
"This Gift will not consume me, that I am sure, this Gift needs me to see
To have a voice in a reality where it is mute
This Gift can not consume me I won't let it .
Like I said before
I stand at the door of my fears, and I face it
Hand on the knob and I turn it
I listen to it and I
Make my peace with it
I pass no grief with it
Pulling off this lyrical e-drive by is what I do best
Doing it better than some, A little different that the rest (of them)
Those that try to unnerve me
The beast in me that whispers crazy shit to me when I am sleeping
Tries to make me shaky
I remember the face of my father and I stand
Mental, controlled six shooter in my hand
Each chamber not filled with death
But with the burgeoning word as , I throw the hammer
And Put a punctuation at the end of your common senses"
_Marv 06_
Ginning – He's grinning at me, teeth the color of Piss, and eyes to match, this thing is grinning at me. My back is a knot of pain, dangled by the throat, large hands all but cutting off the precious air , not matter hoe putrid it smells here I still need to breathe. But this ---- Person or thing is having a goof at my expense and I'm getting mad. That was good he said I like it A+. He's laughing again and I can't take any more..
OOOOO isusm's getting mad, is the Thing or person make you wanna cal yoaw mawmmy wittle Wita man. Mocking baby tone and he knows it's pissing me, off that he can read my mind as well.
I tell him "I write with my heart, not my hand, he who writes with his hand has no God be dammed business, doing this, and should write scripts for Reality TV instead".
He chuckles "yanno , sunshine that is where I live , in your heart, deny it and I'll fuck you up " I'm on the dusty floor I need to get away,
He uses Windex to extinguish the poem that was until a second ago hanging in midair in blue flame, he has a burned rag with a fading blue back ground and a star on it. I'm not paying attention , I feel the flat of his foot connect with my ass and I slide face first into a pile of bones and face to face with the bones of what looked like Mickey Mouse's skull and skeleton I mean it has the giant fucked up ears giant hands and all.
Before I can look closer The beast Bellowed names,. Screamed them in a mad mans way he whispered names, names of the fallen entertainers he has taken out, the notches on the barrel of his gun read. Pay attention Judy , I'm not going to hurt you …much but you got to listen to this
He screams so loud my nose bleeds each word pounding into my brain
Shakur, Hemmingway ,
Dandridge, Vangoh ,Cobain, Belushi , Presley , and a list of a million unknown almost famous names, like the ones in the blade of that other daemon in me, but these were full of spite and anger, doubt and loathing. Living too close to the flame getting pulled in , being burned by it, instead of warmed by it.
His boot was on my neck, and he said, the lesson is this , I am your balance, your humility, cast me out and reign no more. Deep inside a voice "Hear him , Hear him I say for the love of GOD" (oh Hey Clint Eastwood zombie boy long time no haunt)
He slaps me in the head, and hands me one of his revolvers, not as big as the blue eyed zombie from before , but they were powerful.
I throw the hammer back, like it was second nature I felt so fast and the beast looked so slow , boom after thunderously impossibly loud boom rips the night? Darkness? Whatever this inky black is in pieces, and I see my world like a flip book behind it , my life outlined in yellow marker .
I speak in a low voice , it trembles, begging to be allowed to wake up , the barrels of the revolvers hang low in my hands , I am weeping, sobbing, the last scene I see before I wake up from this dream is the sight of the earth splitting into pieces burning , the sound of vile laughter fills the void that was space. The beast is not a beast but , my own self older and cumbered by chains , the chains are bolted by mighty steel to the spot where another version of me stands , each link spells out This ….HOPE
7:16 AM
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Number 200 : Lost my heart in MEJIS - DADA-CHUM
Current mood:  bouncy
Category: Writing and Poetry
What Ho Wordslinger,
words haunt thee as they haunt me
whispered on a thinny , from some long forgotten Golgotha
in side , where the fire has gone cold long before the moons and stars fell.
Dada-chick , Dada-Chum
here comes the god drums to take me away
to a field of blood red , swaying under an end world sun
Black obelisk , like a rude finger stands , and cast shadows
in all where's and all When's.
I left my heart in Mejis , or did toss it away on Jericho Hill
as my world burned , and the red king danced
Twin minds , beneath mountains , and on city streets ,
Dull mutants mill back to forth,
Rat race of the dumbed, numbed to the song of a single rose,
Screaming hope, (If only I could believe)
From the tide of grief spewed from cracks of concrete,
And discarded glass bottles, that once held escape.. It don't really matter how brief.
Doors in my fractured mind open on worlds,
Which open on rooms?
With more doors that open in front of me.
I see my madness reflected in the empty maw,
And my hope in the pinpoint of light from the top of the stairs in the last room.
I left my heart in Mejis, burned at the stake,
Reaching for me, but not screaming to be saved.
Tick – tock, the train is leaving the station, what a pain ….
I had a ticket on an airplane,
Sick of playing these card games, Sick of riddles
Don't want the goose
Gotta get on the road, Gotta find my blue Heaven, that good mind feeling.
Dada-chick, Dada-Chum
here comes the god drums to take me away.........
So I write, cause red eyes are on me, but I do not fear them, I fear the eyes that reflect back at me , in a dirty mirror in a bathroom with one dim bulb .
Dada-Chick, DADA-CHUM
This poem clumsily is dada-done.
"Thankee Big Big"
6:59 AM
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May 12, 2008 - Monday
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My fight -
Current mood:  energetic
I didn't ask for this fight
But here it is , Fists balled up , face screwed up
Eyes blazing, burning away the edges of me , Threatening to burn my seams
And leave me an empty shell, as the best of me is greedily
Consumed, by lackeys too dumb to realize I am their flesh
And the rest of me is cast into the fire to burned,
Then ashes tossed to the winds .
To roam as dust, seeking all corners of this blue Earth.
But I won't run, won't turn my back or my head, or show my heels .
Not to this Fight , not here not now . I will stand, I will be counted
I have the dreams of Generations on the tip of my hand
And all their hopes , and their yearning to be
People , will give me the power to carve defiantly in the stone
Of history my time is now , with this my civil duty .
I vote, and cast myself amongst the voices of Liberty , and choice.
This fight chose me (you see )
To stand and face the insurmountable odds, and defy them, to deny me
But , when I climbed those battlements , Armor at the ready Sword high on my hip
The enemy was not many,
Haggard and weakened, wholly pathetic, fat in their apathy
And secure in their discount of me . and my posterity
They cannot see that behind me , a nation of millions
Backed by the hopes of Billions, yearning to breathe free
Needing to come out from the huts of uncertainty
And look toward liberty's dawning, anew
This fight did not choose me, but I will take it up, with you at my side and me at yours
We will fly in the face on convention, and make it blink
Make it stutter stupid reasons, for its existence
We will question the powers that be, confound them with reasoning
Pure and righteous
Burn down their ivory towers.
Force them down here on the green grass
Amongst amber waves of grain
Force them to look at US
Force them to listen to US
Force them to think about US
Offer them the promise of unity if they join US
And put down their hands
Throw off the gloves,
Dropping shackles that weigh them down, as surely as they bind us
The fight is Here,
Now
We stand together
Now
Or we fall , lost
And Apart …….
Forever.
1:24 PM
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YES WE CAN - SI SE PUEDE
Current mood:  hopeful
Category: Writing and Poetry
I heard it one morning, low and just under my still waking
I felt it as I drove into work, like a song of redemption, needed by
And Pleaded for, those of us looking to wake up and stand up again
I felt it in my heart
YES WE CAN
Turn the tide of separation, and make it wave of unification
Quelling the noise of dissention and bland conformity, and bringing
A song of unification, and joyous strong diversity
("E pluribus unum" anyone)
YES WE CAN
Take the centuries, of war and disease, and stand our brothers and sisters up
On sure feet, and light hearts, no matter what land they call home, we can begin here
Where the ideals of old
Were forgotten and sold,
Hearts and minds lost to the shine of gold
And god holds up a sign, on the side of the freeway
(Will bless you for Food)
Yet we ignore him, Driving to work lost on our I phone
Paid for by a house too expensive, to make sense
Two doors down, Foreclosed signs, dot the lawn
That white pickets fences, turns grey.
No one home
YES WE CAN
Help
YES WE CAN
Listen
YES WE CAN
Be the stewards of democracy and unity
That we were meant to be
This land of the free, and the home of the brave
Where so many who crave (It)
Cross Burning sands and scale walls of steel
Exhausted, yearning to be. ….
American, wanting to be treated as human
YES WE CAN
I hear it every day, on the faces of people that see me, a little differently
Be it malice or kindness.
I feel it.
I feel it
YES WE CAN
I believe in it , I hear it , when I pull over and pick HIM up
My day is not too busy. I feel hope
Listen to it, rumbling across the rolling hills and echoed in Grumbling bellies,
And bitter tongues packing boxes, forced to leave their American dream,
Pleading for a chance, needing for an ear
To listen, a heart to feel for them, to need for them.
YES WE CAN
If we need it enough. Faced with the fierce urgency of now, how can we deny it, when it is screaming in the lungs of new born children
Neither black or Asian , Latin , or white , but colored with love and hope
and tomorrows promise , beating away yesterdays shadows ?
It rolls like thunder , and will not go away , and I hear it on mornings as I drive into work
And I hear it in my own voice when I write this
And I feel it when I see my children stand under a blue sky , Free
But these Questions remain
Do we? Can We ? Should We ? Seize the reins of our collectivity destiny, to claim our birthright, and live a life that is good
And full, and has much dignity.
YES WE CAN.
YES WE CAN
Oh Dear God YES We CAN
---OBAMA '08---
6:56 AM
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April 11, 2008 - Friday
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POEM : Faith’s Lament
Current mood:  distraught
Category: Writing and Poetry
I have preached over far too many funerals
My voice Is raw,
And these eyes that are dry ,
Are tired and cried too much ….
This heavy heart cannot hear the draw of my pulpit any more (I fear)
I have sung, and still sing the Lord's Prayer in the mornings for Baptism
And I close the same day with it on my lips
As I lay a son or daughter of this community,
Of This family,
Of strangers, into the hallowed earth.
(More and more is seems these days)
I close my eyes and I see only, yesterday's faces
(oh god please ,please ,Perchance, to dream?)
(Black robes of Mourning
I seem to always wear. My vision of heaven is blurring, my faith I fear is drawing thin...)
I have preached far too many funerals.
I sprinkled earth on caskets, far too many of them holding babies
I once sprinkled with water from the baptismal font ….
The only water that flows now are from these old eyes that have seen too much
And simply want to close, and turn away
For I see angels over the shoulders, and a dark shadow on the faces
Of these , of Those who look to me on Sunday ….. Morning ?
(What Can I say? what should I say)
(that the only spirits I see these days )
(look back at me from the bottom )
(of Ice and Rum filled Glasses)
(and I am glad , because they don't talk to me when I try to sleep)
I have Preached Far too may funerals, and stood Still
(and it seems I always had the will to do so….)
My Faith may be thin and wavering but is unbroken.
(My heart however is not …..)
It's Saturday and I have to preach……again
(From my hand hallowed earth sprinkles , from my lips words fall …..)
Ashes to Ashes
And such to such …..
One more day , one more tear and I am thinking ……
(Black robes of Mourning
I seem to always wear. My vision of heaven is blurring, my faith I fear is drawing thin...)
Bible on the barstool next to me
Angel on my shoulder
Dark figures look back from my glass
I lied you see… sometimes they speak
(No!, Not for you , Not yet , not yet , Miles to go before you sleep…. Perhaps …
then I get to dream …..
6:05 AM
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March 21, 2008 - Friday
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