I Got Approval

So I asked the only people still awake, Jenny is the “people”, and she gave me the go-ahead to make a new site design and upgrade to the new version of my journal software.

I am still awake dag-nabbit!

I am also a complete post whore tonight, sorry. No sleep will do crazy things to you.

I swear, VH-1 is just repeating the same four music videos, gah! haha

Mariah Carey and the Black Eyed Peas are both coming out with new CD’s soon and I am getting wet with excitement! Jason Mraz too, how awesome is that?

I now offer you my poem/song lyrics of the moment. I found Blackalicious through Joseph when we were juniors in high school. This is Saul Williams’ portion of the three part song, Release:


(Saul Williams)

In a breathlessness
Out of restlessness
By the time I caught up to freedom I was out of breath

Grandma asked me what I’m running for
I guess I’m out for the same thing the sun is sunning for
What mothers birth their youngens for
And some say Jesus coming for

For all I know the earth is spinning slow
Suns at half mass cause masses ain’t a glow

On bended knee,
Prostrate before an altered tree
I’ve made the forest suit me

Tables and chairs
Papers and prayers
Matter versus spirit
A metal ladder
A wooden cross
A plastic bottle of water
A Mandela encased in glass
A spirit encased in flesh

Sound from shaped hollows
The thickest of mucus released from heightened passion

A man that cries in his sleep
A truth that has gone out of fashion
A mode of expression
A paint splattered wall
A carton of cigarettes
A bouquet of corpses
A dying forest
A nurtured garden
A privatized prison
A candle with a broken wick
A puddle that reflects the sun
A piece of paper with my name on it

I’m surrounded
I surrender
All
All that I am I have been
All I have been has been a long time coming
I am becoming all that I am

The spittle that surrounds the mouth-piece of the flute
Unheard, yet felt
A gathered wetness
A quiet moisture
Sound trapped in a bubble
Released into wind

Wind fellows and land merchants
We are history’s detergent

Water soluble, light particles, articles of cleansing breath
Articles amending death
These words are not tools of communication
They are shards of metal
Dropped from eight story windows

They are waterfalls and gas leaks
Aged thoughts rolled in tobacco leaf
The tools of a trade
Barbers barred, barred of barters
Catch phrases and misunderstandings

But they are not what I feel when I am alone
Surrounded by everything and nothing
And there isn’t a word or phrase to be caught
A verse to be recited
A man to de-fill my being in those moments

I am blankness that contains center of an ‘O’
The paramedic containment of an ‘A’

I stand in the middle of all that I have learned
All that I have memorized
All that I’ve known by heart
Unable to reach any of it

There is no sadness
There is no bliss
It is a forgotten memory
A memorable escape route that only is found by not looking

There, in the spine of the dictionary the words are worthless
They are a mere weight pressing against my thoughtlessness
But then, who else can speak of thoughtlessness with such
confidence
Who else has learned to sling these ancient ideas like dead rats held by their tails
So as not to infect this newly oiled skin

I can think of nothing heavier than an airplane
I can think of no greater conglomerate of steel and metal
I can think of nothing less likely to fly
There are no wings more weighted

I too have felt a heaviness
The stare of man guessing at my being

Yes I am homeless
A homeless man making offerings to the after-future
Sculpting rubber tree forests out of worn tires and shoe soles

A nation unified in exhale
A cloud of smoke
A native pipe ceremony

All the gathered cigarette butts piled in heaps
Snow covered mountains
Lipsticks smeared and shriveled

Offerings to an afterworld
Tattoo guns and plastic wrappers
Broken zippers and dead eyed dolls

It’s all overwhelming me
Okinelming me

I have seeded a forest of myself
Little books from tall trees

It matters not what this paper be made of
Give me notebooks made of human flesh
Dried on steel hooks and nooses
Make uses of use, uses of us

It’s all overwhelming me
Okinelming me
I have seeded a forest of myself
Little books from tall trees

On bended knee
Prostrate before an altered tree
I’ve made the forest suit me

Tables and chairs
Papers and prayers
Matter versus spirit

Through meditation I program my heart to be break-beats and humn baselines in exhalation


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