hang on a star explode

walk weightless remember stars falling hung about the hearts whispering heavy halo's above our heads

Sunday, May 04, 2008

Saturday, May 03, 2008

pink
green
purple
blue jars 
against my window
frame
stacked so high
and
wide
turns to grey
the happiness in my cell
burns 
the flesh inside my chest

there are shadows that clench the best of me
to pull down on my smiles
red-sparkles bleed
down 
my 
skin


and project grey onto my blurry blue eyes

sometimes
this 
is simply
how i feel
inside.

the number game

9

is the number that represents the beginning
and the end
of all human experiences

numeroligists attribute the number nine with
fogiveness
introversion
love, and compassion…brotherhood of mankind

having big…opportunities in life
and a capacity to live by the Devine standards

Numeroligists have also defined the number

9
with negative attributes
which can lead to on the spot misjudgements
impulsiveness, wrong habbits…

9 ironically is attributed
with the color red

but 9…is also..just a number….

I don’t know about you but I was raised to understand
right
and wrong
a old song whispered into my ears by lovely mother
who just kinda understood…we got no other choice

right and wrong stuck with life we might as well do what we must, but leave no trails of blood

I don’t know about you but I kinda love life
and by life I mean me…and by life I mean you, and by life I mean waking up in the morning and the people I am so fortunate to call friends and the moments I’ll never forget
and even the times I hope to never remember
but especially the nights…up late…delirious and glossy eyed
pushed up next to the love of my life
I wouldn’t trade a moment of it…

love…is some powerful shit
love makes u color blind and sincere
it forces u to look a stranger in the eyes and see behind the masks we all have to carry just to fucking making through some of these days…

oh man..these days…

love…is the kinda thing that turns me inside out throws me against a wall pins me down sends chills down my spine
goosebumbs on my arms..yea, I wanna marry the person I love…

in time..

you know…before its too late…

9

its the difference between 41
and 50

9…..shots

amadou diallo

sean bell

wedding songs and white fabric
a certain joy . smiles like fire
stained red … faded out
turned to funeral psalms and black attire
a certain sadness . sorrow implanted

a mistake

a simple mistake
but he’s gone

responsibility…
none…

50…
the issue of 7 squared
plus one
in the scriptures it represents Jubilee…
or deliverance
pointing to the time of rest as a result of the perfect consummation of time
It represents grace
in the 50th year, known as a Jubilee year, all debts were to be forgiven
50…shots rang out
something about confusion about
WE THOUGHT HE…
I MEAN I HEARD SOMEBODY SAY
HE KINDA SEEMED TO
….”I WAS SURE HE WAS FIRING BULLETS BACK”…

well no fucking shit, if me and some people around me unloaded 50 bullets I’d probably think some fuckin bullets were being fired back to.

and judge made his decision…it was a mistake..
a mistake…not unlawful…just a mistake

I don’t know about you
but I was raised to know about right
and wrong

and as far as my good mother taught me…
a mistake
it’s like tipping over a glass of milk
you know the kinda shit you don’t have to cry over.

save the tears she’d say…
and I did
for the day she died
I cried
furiously over her grave
but you see
I had no one to blame
you see
it was no mistake…

can you imagine the pain
twisting turning your insides questions unanswered
a bride just wants to wake up
on her wedding day
and marry the man she loves
but instead

6

is the number of feet under the ground
where he lay

a mistake, it was not supposed to happen this way…
indeed.
I don’t know about you…but that same dear mom of mine
who taught me right
and wrong
that old imbued song…
if I did wrong…

anger. it makes you mess some shit up
how an innocent man could die by the hand of some men
who’s job is keep shit peaceful…
50 bullets they fired

it makes you wanna do shit you’ll regret…

but here’s the thing… I don’t know about you..
but I was taught that this eye for an eye shit makes the world blind…
I mean yea we gotta fight
we gotta raise our clenched fists like antennae
to heaven

but in the end…it’s the hope resting inside our glossy eyes in the form of some kind of unexplainable love that’s gonna get us out of this wreckage…

22
was the age of a beautiful lady in love a day, and a mere MISTAKE away from WIFE…
but just his fiancé...

3
the age of the baby girl who wont grow up next her daddy

in moments like these, we realize,…numbers are indeed numbers
we just want yesterday back

its all so fucked up…but

9
numerologists claim that it’s strongest quality is that it represents

mankinds last earthly lesson…..

forgiveness

because you can hate a motherfucker all damn day…
but in the end it’s the hope that this shit can change that will give us the strength to know that we are the ones that can make it happen..

even though..the hard truth lies

in the number 50
thought it never shouldve happened in the first place…
I just wonder…
even if they could’ve used a little restraint…
say they only shot half those bullets
that woulda been 25
and maybe sean bell
would still be alive

25
minus two
at the age of
23
Sean Bell,
rest in peace.

Saturday, June 04, 2005

i think i'll take myself on a date

Thursday, June 02, 2005

glow in the dark star sing to me

me, suzi, amber, and alex went to alabama to meet this kid, zach childree who's story i read in a magazine about alabama being the most unsafe place in the USA for gay people to live...for two days the red haired, modest 22 yo told us his story...we took notes in amazement, and we prepare to transform it into a screenplay...



we road elevators up to our hotel room, and explored the town where smoke blows from the streets...



the license plates in alabama say "stars fall on alabama"...somehow the stars tunred out to be flatened on the streets, like they've been smothered, and smushed, and not allowed to float and explode....as well, alex did this....



this morning we left.....on the car ride i got a blue tongue, and amber at corn.

the stars will really fall on

back to memphis.

i love this journal.


no one reads this shit and i can just scream into a vaccum.


beautiful.


and incomplete.


like all things.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

alabama

interviewing zach childree yesterday and tonight. with 3 of my friends. hysterical in the hotel, shoot films and get at each others nerve endings like no tomorrow. blow smoke in her face and back flip onto bed. think of eric, and cry quietly wishing to hold him and never let go. i love you.

in love lasts forever

if i still missed you more the string would fall and fail the ringing center of my attention.




i lay sideways to hold you center

last time feel thoughtless

i think myself into your room and hold you to make your head spin