Unfiltered

10 lit tips…nicotine burns my lips…eyes blood red, voice deep and thick…voice rough and dark, eyes matching the embers’ spark…

Got no filter on this cigarette, cancer as the bayonet—time makes deadly this game of roulette…

But I think that just living is, in its own right, a bet.  The culmination of one’s life—all the fruit of one’s sweat—can all boil down to a single regret…or maybe a string if you’ve gotten your feet wet…

Why, oh why did you have to go around and mess with it?!  This stupid silly little thing called happiness…

Never again will I trust someone else with it…

This life is mine and don’t you dare forget it…that I invited you to be a part of it…so don’t go ‘round thinking that I owe you one bit…after all you ever did was just step on it…

I am independent and don’t you forget it…I have no idea what the hell is next…All I know is that you won’t be a part of it….hand over the time/energy you’ve taken, and I’ll decide what to do with what’s left of it.

Yep.  I’m calling you pathetic.  The strong should never use their strength to make others dependent…and you did that to her—took the truth and swiftly bent it…crawling back and apologizing just like you meant it…you’re a manipulator—sorry, I just call it like I see it.  And yeah it is my business…you made it mine through befriendment…

I tried to help…and maybe I could have tried harder…played your game—faked it.  But I’m not like you—how I act is how I feel it…

I’m sorry but I couldn’t pretend it…I care enough to fight and defend it…this thing called loyalty is more than just a word on a necklace pendant…I called you my family—and I damn well meant it.

You of little faith should know well that to believe it is to see it…and I do…I see the truth through the filters and fun house mirrors that distort and bend it…

What I believe is the truth…not the fearsome facade you’ve painted…you’re a frightened little boy—clinging tightly to this fictional security you’ve created…

You stupid, silly little boy…

True fearlessness does not come from oppressing and controlling the world around you—it lies within the knowledge that no matter how the scene changes, you can adjust inside and still be okay with it.  I am fearless—you only feign it.  I will speak my mind and act my heart because I have the strength to do it.  And I trust my God and my sword to keep at bay those who would wish me to regret it.  I fear nothing—least of all your half-hearted and shallow threats…so put your goddamn toy away before you get hurt with it…

You’re damn right I’m gonna fight…

I am free—and I won’t forfeit it. 

I’ll see you on the battlefield…so be prepared for it…

‘Cause I’ve got no filter on this cigarette…I laugh at the sight of a bayonet…

Especially when there’s a silly, nervous, little boy holding it.

Yeah…physically you might be bigger and stronger than me and the rest…

But at heart…well…you might just want to toddle back to your mother’s breast…

Because as the bumper sticker says, “God’s coming…and She’s PISSED!”

Inspiration/Motivation

Inspiration flows like a deep, dark ocean,

Comes in waves and sets me in motion,

Gives my heart a sense of sol'mn [solemn] devotion,

To something that's beyond my emotion,

Something stronger than this [fiery] potion…

Head swirling in pain, Heart thumping in vain,

Chest heaving in strain, Mind pulsing with [the] vein…

Sweat pouring like rain, fate’s not what I [had] deigned…

Running down the road I paved, this truth is seen quite plain.

Falling down to what I craved, in the glory I’ve lain--slain.

What the hell is all this commotion?!

Charge the crowd…I mean lo-co-motion…

Pushing, pulling…this big, bad notion…

Just to see the night’s big pro-motion …

Back up Jack ‘fore I serve the demotion…

Masses going insane, the Sheep are running in vain,

Wolves moving in campaign, I’m looking on with distain…

I’ve got too much on the brain…It’s just too much to explain…

Tell me-- who’s gonna maintain, this way of life [that] we [try to] feign…

Too proud to show the emotion…

Too stubborn for absolution…

Too smart to believe the illusion…

Too pissed to reach a solution [too pissed for a peaceful solution]…

Too tired to seek retribution…

Mind racing just like a train, But face [is] more silent than Kurt Cobain,

Words connected all in a chain, Lyrics flowing just like champagne,

The social alcohol now helps restrain, the masses from their work—so profane,

So while they’re tripping on word cocaine, I’m moving freely now—against the grain.

Delving deep into this new notion…

Trying to understand this deep devotion…

To things so base in their actuation…

Fighting off this strong dark addiction…

Ending now this sharp—heart affliction…

Cutting of its flow to the brain, heart and mind both stop [this] fearful reign,

My will and spirit both break the chain, that bound me tightly to this fake charade,

I won’t fall in line at this masquerade, dancing like a fool in this parade,

Walk away, I won’t stand in [this] parade, to please the masses who forget my name.

I’ve seen the heart of this selfish promotion…

No regard at all for friend or family devotion…

No respect at all for works of godly motion…

Lacking honest, truthful introspection…

Into themselves and in the ways of intuition…

I won’t just stand here gawking in vain, helplessly watching events unfolding the same…

I won’t watch these lives being taken-maimed, won’t keep quiet as addictions pay for [this] game…

I am not the one who should be ashamed, my thoughts and my opinions aren’t the ones to blame…

For the murder of the suppliers, the pushers and the buyers, and of those simply in the way…

You think of me as a goody-two shoes…as someone who’s afraid…to stand against you, showing the errors in your ways…

But don’t piss me off guey…’cause I promise…you’ll feel it just the same…as those who disregard me…as those who forget my name…

Haha…you don’t even know my face…but one fact still remains,

That even though my face and name aren't within your brain…

Once our paths have crossed these ways…

Never… in your life… will you ever be the same…

Calling All Angels

I know it’s kind of crazy, especially with gas prices being so high, but sometimes I intentionally take the long road home.  I guess I just like to observe the life around me.  Sometimes I’ll take Transmountain home or Montana Street.  It’s just really interesting to watch how people interact with each other and with nature.

Sometimes you’ll see people riding bicycles with varying degrees of skill.  Some people will run, others will walk---if it’s late on a Friday night, they’ll stumble from one “Watering hole” to the next. 

On several occasions though I’ve watched as one particular woman uses a payphone on the corner of Cotton and Montana.  She’s an older woman; however I think she’s probably younger than she looks.  The blistering summer heat and bone chilling winter winds can do that to a person.  Every line on her weathered face and tanned skin has a story to tell…an accompanying worry.  But I think indifference and judgment are more damaging than the natural elements.

She is what many would describe as homeless. 

She is not homeless.  She is neglected.  She is forgotten.  Her value is dismissed.  She is a human being.

She feels.  She thinks.  She needs exactly what every other person needs.

She needs so much more than bread and water.

She is entitled to respect.  She deserves concern.

But most of all, she needs our love…not our judgment.

There is a fine line between the working class and the unemployed.  Sometimes it’s a white line on a mirror.  But more often than not, the line separating those who live underneath a roof from those under a bridge is invisible.  It is within our minds and in the churning tides of fortune.  Underneath the tough, weathered skin beats a heart not so unlike our own.

Every time I pass this intersection, my hermana’s bent and broken form leans against the telephone booth.  Her head is stooped and face obscured by a worn hat and bag laden arm—avoiding the piercing glances of those around her.  Her free hand clutches the receiver as she makes her calls.

But who is answering?

From what I see---no one.  Including myself.

Calling all angels.

Both walking and flying.   She’s calling all you angels.

Don’t leave her there crying.

Calling all angels.

Unwind [Just Fine]

Unwind, refine the mind that is meant to find the time when you were just fine…life on rewind.

Unwind, define the line that drew the portrait of your life sublime, without the thought of present time.

I am just fine says my pride to my reeling mind.  You need to unwind says my heart to the central nerve line.  Just sit and recline—take the time to let go and find—Unwind, find the silence within your mind.

Unwind, decline the rhyme and reason you wind up in these tight spots and trains of thought even though you thought that you were just fine.

Unwind, remind those behind that they had their time to speak their mind and that silence is a golden nugget to be mined…because you are just fine…with the silence within your mind.

Unwind, redefine the spine of the loved ones to whom you bind…the ones for whom you fall—so blind…the connection is within your heart—but only on your part—this truth is within your mind.

Unwind, realize what is not divine…what you thought was thine, was really just assigned by the fates to the one who is next in line…you just caught a glimpse of another’s life…not really what’s defined.

Unwind, resign the parts so malign—of the broken heart and mind…to the depths of night—show your might—unwind, refine the steel of your armor inside…impurities—grind, strengths—combined, let no one within your mind.

Unwind, safe behind the fibers so entwined—outside can only see the rind—not what’s on your soul and mind…unwind, of things unsteady I’m disinclined…because…

I am just fine says my pride to my reeling mind.  You need to unwind says my heart to the central nerve line.  Just sit and recline—take the time to let go and find—Unwind, find the silence within your mind.

So, just unwind…unwind and find the silence…deep…within your heart and mind…because…you…are…just…

Fine.

Diaries of the Dyer Street Dynasty; Part II--The Glance

4 am and I can't sleep again,
There's just too much noise to ignore it.
2 am left me wanting a friend,
Although I've no voice to request it.

Flop out of bed and I go for a drive,
Before the sun comes up and takes me alive,
Called past the point where my feet dare to strive,
Why I must go far-- I cannot contrive,

Trying to catch the last bit of fresh air,
Crossing the mountains left me feeling aware,
On the way home--down the thoroughfare,
Noticing movement, I glance--she glares...

Wondering what the hell I could have done;
To deserve the response that I'd just won;
Red light turns to green--hit the gas-- I'm gone;
Of these thoughts and feelings I am not fond...

It took only a glance and moments introspection,
To pick up and read her heart like a publication.
Reading headlines of missteps and revelation;
Bylines played out like the latest news sensation.

Black on white, her life written in blocks and news columns…
Dark and light, her face crisscrossed with lines shaded and solemn…
In her eye, a spirit of fated warriors—guerreras with glory far fallen…
In my sight, una compadre de la otra madre—a sister who’s spirit is walled in…

Next light turns red and I’m stopping again,
Truck pulls up beside me, occupants looking right at me,
The man that is driving jokes with his ‘friend’…
The woman that had just before glared back at me.

6 am and I’m still on the mend,
I don’t know why I stress and so deeply care about this…
6 am and I’m trying to defend,
This mind and heart from breaking and falling apart—because of greater distress…

So watch o’re your back and don’t get off track,
Pile your thoughts up with the rest of the stack,

With head in hands and heart in your throat,
Know that you couldn’t slow down that boat,

That’s slowly been taking her down…
That’s quickly deepened your frown.

7 am and I’m back home again…
Back to the noise and my life on rewind…
It’s just too hard to ignore it…

Diaries of the Dyer Street Dynasty: Part 1 The Re-Introduction

Diaries of the Dyer Street Dynasty: A description of the random happenings and visions of my late-night drives when I can't sleep...

Part I—the Re-Introduction

Her hair and spirit’s blowing…she’s moving with the wind…
On a crooked path she’s strolling…Smile twisted like a sin,
Bluffing the cards she’s holding, knowing that with them she can’t win,
Not knowing where she’s going…just only where she’s been
Wishing she could stop the tolling…the church bell’s deep dark din

Although I can’t recall her name, there’s something familiar about her grin.
In another life she was a school yard friend; but the visage, not the spirit transcend.

Her lips are red, her heart is blue…
Life is tough, and love’s untrue…
The cards you needed weren’t the ones you drew…
But don’t despair, just start anew…

Dyer street dynasty, the Queens of the Night, dancing alone in the neon lights,
The chains binding your soul are about as tight, as the confines of your sight…
Those that clip your wings and keep your soul from taking to freedom's flight,
Are swarming all around you, watching-- waiting, for you to stop the fight.

Her blood runs red; she’s black and blue…
The words he spoke just weren’t true…
The makeup covers the pain in you…
But raise your head; I’ll fight for you…

I can see the years within your eyes, and I come to know your fears simply through your sighs.
You need not speak about your trials; they’re written upon your face—hidden behind smiles,
We sit and talk-- my anger starts to rise; seems as though we’ve only just met but I’m compelled to pumble those guys;
The ones who abused, beat, misused the sister at my side; the ones who cannot seem to tell anything but candied lies.

Mangled monarch-- defiled duchess; stand to face the ones that transgress,
Mind not the mouthy maidens--the bible thumping jury, or the pulpit speaker’s fury.
These Sunday Morning-only Christians, would do well to mind their own perditions…
For the Father and Son live with love and lead by example; not convert by lead-footed trample…

Midnight maiden, come walk in the light.
Understand that we all have demons to fight.
Finger shaking and gossip making, no one has that right;
For in the end, when truth be told, no one’s got it all right.

Blood runs red, and tears flow in dark blue,
Who are we to pass judgment on you?
To say that one is completely honest--is itself, untrue.
Dry your eyes, show your smile—there’s still much hope for you.
There’s a life on the streets beyond the don’ts and dos.
Where you go and what you do, is completely for you to choose.

So while I’m pleased to meet you again and make this introduction,
I hope to never again see you at this dim-lit intersection,
At the crossroads of hell and limbo, of dark secrets and introspection…
I knew you before you fell in this, so I know who you are upon further inspection.

Remember the good life long gone,
And realize that it can still be won.
In the middle of these vultures you don’t belong
Your parents miss you, so hop in friend—I’ll drive you home.