In hopes of a mad resurrection

My pen falls flat in dejection

More like a renewed redirection

Of my final intention

Words lassoed 

And written

Bringing back the words I had not given

I write with the hopes of a new discovery

To go forth and be free

From subtleties

My life long recovery

To write eternally


25 Hours

25 hour car ride

The earth to my right side

Passing trucks to the left

I won’t attest with my old ride

Making our way to the Florida coast 

Racing trains 

Down the eastern seaboard

Catching cheap hotels 

So we can

Sleep more

Passing through Raleigh

And Jacksonville

Some good moments

Some are just a force of will

Highways full 

Unable to sit still

From the borders of NYC

To easy coastal city’s

Southern bound 

Through America the Pretty

Over Scented Detergent

Oh sweet over scented detergent

Urgent runs to the laundromat

Cleansing liquid of shirts and hats

The ode to the time saver

I know nothing

Of the bubble reducing liquid

On Driggs Avenue I will take you

Replenish my garmets

From jeans to armpits

Undoing yesterdays Thai food

Making my clothes fresh and new

Upon the shoulders of a clean towel

I rekindle my life

Re centered and clean

How expensive in Brooklyn

The costs of a simple wash

Can cost

But without sweet detergent

I may be lost




Forgotten Ground

The greatest of all challenges

Of my generation

Will be to see a life we once had

Nod to a fleeting moment

That the future has no place for the past

Endless consumption could never last

In the place of old habits

Birth new minimal ways

To say

That we no desire what we need

Rather than the desire of heart

We will fight our inner conflict

Lives lived between iron curtains thick

Of inter web communities

It will the true call of unity

When we give up a hand

Rather than an app 

We come back to making the US great

Rebuild and innovate

That is my hope 

Upon decimated buildings 

We can build a new future

With knife and suture we will repair our wounds

Unto prosperity bound

From town to town

Reclaim forgotten ground

Blue Print Plan

Hard to imagine

That my body is not the same

As five years ago

There is no blue print plan

Mentality expands

Trading wisdom for youth

I don’t recognize the latter

In a picture

Or anything for the matter

Music a new pathway sends

Seeing sunsets through revitalized lens

How is it that I can be the same

Not feeling anything the same

Physically all new

Just the name

Is the one part that stays the same

Yet my mind continues on a linear path

For it is a wonderful question to ask

How we can rebirth ourselves

Yet maintain the constant roots

Even when I awake before the dew

It is still me

It is still you

Unknowingly Unknown

A case of distracting news

One that one can not simply refuse

The future of art

Is held in the arms of one minds repose

Unknowingly unknown

Somehow the highest calling

Is called from a distant awning

The creation of art

To focus on filters

Rather than a focus in part

Somehow the filters of heard and unheard

Call out some higher prestige fallen

On a certain selection of words

The construction of words

All hail to the critics

It’s all pretty sick

A devastating form of salutation

Pounding into my mind

I hold back the gates



I learned from my mistakes

The best form of creation

Happens in pure refinement

In an attempt to fasten the muscles

To make a call to creation

A new creation in the making

Sweating Souls

Love makes summer seem

Soft and seemingly subtle

Keeps the air

From sweating my soul

Hands touch hands

Cheering in splashes

Crashing soft on the shores of

The ocean

Winds of sands blown

On the southern beaches of


8 hours from home

For it is in Love

That we are truly never