Home
My ears are bleeding listless melodies a pack of dogs fighting over a bone, home is that place you go to when you’re hungry, tired and alone. Familiar places friendly faces, kick off your shoes and come on in, a little piece of home is everywhere in all the places that I’ve been. What’s your name? Where are you from? I know I’ve seen your face before, some other time some other place I’ve seen your shadow on the floor. Where have you been since I saw you last? How many lives have you lived since then? Have you found the answers to the questions we used to ponder way back when?
Sunday morning
I awoke from heavy slumber to the sound of ravens swooping low thru the pines, clutching Mary Jane tightly in the morning dew…and the church bells were ringing, I did not know the hour and on the street a blind old man was singing. I hummed along to the pipers tune and said goodbye to the waning moon disappearing to return so soon again.
La raina de la noches
queen of the night
blankets of fog draping gracefully around her
mist drifting in from the golden gate…
the haight is haunted by the ghosts of Jerry, Jimmie, and Janis
wearing tie dye and patchouli
raging like dylan thomas against the dying of the night…
and Jack still wanders, aimlessly downtown
with a notebook and a pen, drunk as cooter brown
and i take another toke and play another tune
as Ginsburg leans his head back and Howls at the moon,
bitterly lamenting that the end is coming soon…
and theres tidal waves, earthquakes and tsunami’s
beaurocrats and hippie commies
chem-trails, fema camps and zombies
signs, signs, the end indeed is near…
walls made of bricks and mortar
blood shed over arbitrary borders…
Lines blurred between Chaos and Order
Love alone will save us from our fear…
exiles driven from the plots where they toil
brothers killing brothers over land, water and oil
bloody battles rage on domestic soil
wars, wars, and rumours of wars
signs, signs the end is coming soon.
north against the south and the east against the west
killin and blood spillin over whos idol is the best
the rightous run to the hills to escape arrest…
signs, signs, the end is coming soon.
The City
the city looks different from 19 floors up but the sky seems even further away, cars so surreal like matchboxes with wheels shine with the glint of midday, the sidewalks are full of hustle and bustle, mass confusion to and fro, like rats in a maze they walk in a daze, there’s always some place to go. No time to think, to stop is to sink for money is the essence of time. Here in the city it doesn’t pay to be witty, just do what you’re told for a dime.
Charlie’s Sandwich Shop
Time ticks by on a Monday morning my pen end over end, foot tapping to the rhythm of jazz…steam rising from my coffee cup as the sax plays a listless melody, my heart and soul agree, my head acknowledges with a syncopated nod as the beat goes on…foot tapping time on the hard-wood floor as my day-dreaming reverie unwinds, an over-flowing reservoir of jazz… There ain’t nothing like Jazz and Jam on whole wheat for breakfast to start your Monday off right, Charlie says. He sure makes a hell of a sandwich. Nothing second rate, a little piece of heaven on a paper plate.
Jazz
Streams of disjointed fragments of reality unrealized and all too real simultaneously. Visions, nightmares, and idle day dreams kaleidoscope of chemical induced interpretations of reality or some vague similarity, De’javu voodoo, and taboo rendered unconscious but registered subliminally a rhyme without reason a song a symphony backbeat and melody. Bodies swaying in the breeze to the unintelligible tongues interpreted by angels whether holy or profane. Even the deaf hear, the dumb, blind and insane, it shoots thru my veins takes me to higher planes, turns the wheels and takes the reins…grooving to the ancient melody setting my soul free. Uncover your head, remove your cloak and dance naked in the street, move our hands and feet to the rhythm and the rhyme to the meter and the time, to the heart the soul the mind…that encompasses us all.
The Jungle and The Swamp
A lot of similarities between the jungle and the swamp...
it's shady, hot, and wet...alot of the same shades of green...
we got the same kind of bugs, mosquitos in particular...
and that familiar feeling...
We know about Aloha where I come from...
we just call it southern hospitality...
I feel at home here.
The keiki call me uncle
the uncles call me braddha
the aunties call me baby, sweety, honey and such...
straight southern style...
the way it should be.
Don't let the complexion fool ya...
I aint no howly.
I'm Hawaiian.
E Malama Aina.
HA- Breath… breath in the wind of the Spirit… Inhale the breath of the earth and the sea…
WA- Water… the nector of the earth… flowing from within… filling and refilling the 4 chambers of the earth… the spring from which the rivers flow… flowing to the sea and evaporating into the sky to return to the scource of all life and purified by the sacred fires of Brahma, Shiva, and Vishnu… the spark, the dance of destruction and creation… Rise into the sun… morphings into vapor and returning to its beloved… transcending all illusions of duality…
II- Sunshine… the scource of all energy and life… the nucleaus of this atomic sphere of worlds…the heart of the celestial body… that spark…ignited by the spirit within…the gyration of the stars and planets around this magical, self-perpetuating orb of energy… heart-beat…
eyes wide…imagining a hand beneath this giant sky…aloha…its time to fly…over the sea…into the sun… thru the mist the garden awaits… a tender maiden in the night…bare and beautiful in the moonlight…rainbows in her eyes… whispers ‘Come to me’ with a certain longing in her gaze mixed with a calm assurance she surrenders to me her body…her soul… smooth skin… bronzed by the sun…tender carress… exposed bodies…naked souls…dancing like chidren in the garden… La raina de la noche…queen of the night… inviting…she opens her legs for me… that tender flower blooming… i part the curtain of the most holy of holy places in her temple… i enter reverantly, sactified holy, transfixed in her luminous presence… Oh sweet transendental death… hold me just like that and don’t let go… I want to get inside of you in every possible way… explore every inch of your body with my tender kisses…I want to taste the nector of your body…to touch you… within, without… I want to feel you… to be engulfed by your luminous prescence… surrounded by your beauty… whisper to me gently my beloved… tell me the secrets of your soul…
The traveler sat beside the path and watched the crowds walk by…
In two’s and three’s and some with four knees
…and a little girl with squeaky shoes.
A godess strummed upon her lyre with a fellow with a chello at her side
while the people in the street were passing by
like spaceships in the sky
like spaceships in the sky
Im gonna grow a garden
burn your money up in smoke
I’ll laugh at your illusions
and I’ll take another toke
I’ll build my house on sacred ground
nothing but family all around
living simple, one day at a time
Ain’t got no reason
but I got a Ryme.
Ron