Not So Dark At All

Daylight overlooks the tops of skyscrapers passing through the spaces of millionaires view
Falling into the long forgotten cracks that were broken by toil
Abbeys
Alleys
Sidestreets
Never seen from the 110th floor even though the sun shines directly on them

A flag by any other color

On any street in any city
This maybe the new common scene

Oh that again

This feeling is an old ghost of mine that I’ve known from the ages of myself
Always there and nowhere in same breaths
I’d paint it by numbers to explain
Crayons would be more fitting if the lines would stay still long enough for shaking hands to color them in fully
A big orange yellowish sun with lines jabbing through the sky that only fills a page half way
Green scribbled grass
Fluffy clouds outline black over white
I’m no where in the picture

Why I #Occupy

If you have click through any of this worded mess these topics are not at all new to me but giving interviews and the questions never hammer home the nails I am trying to convey
instead
it leaves the interviewer dumbfounded asking more questions off the record and buying me coffee and at least that’s been my experience on the ground in Liberty Square or at a direct action….
Everyone has the why I Occupy story
in reality most people have had the Occupy life
or
they were hit with the grave fact that the powers that be plus the odds were not in their favor,the tables are rigged and if you can prove me wrong I can sell you a bridge whilst you buy me a pint
My story is told throughout these pages of mumbled tags,drunken ramblings and dreaded tales of lost working love
I’ll give the answer that almost everyone has asked me since setting foot near the park

Q;So where do you see yourself in 5 to 7 years?

A;Can I answer that in concrete on the record ?
I get a nod of yes…so I light a smoke and watch the eyes glare as I begin to speak

A;In all honesty..I will be no longer on this earth..yes dead
I’ve watched good men work their whole lives
my grandfather came here and built these bridges and tunnels with my uncles
my father worked on cars and then another trade til they threw him away
I work next to men who gave 40 years of their life to companies only to be asked to work more
as for myself I work two jobs for the equivalent of a bowel of soup
this is not a life for anyone,this is not life
the work will kill me or I will eventually take my own life before these companies do
-They stare in amazement-
Standing by and watching the next generation of young adults and little kids go uneducated and thrown into a system designed to eat them alive is condoning it…they need a future
-They stand jaw opened-
I am exactly where this system wants me,in debt beyond repair but still producing capitol for them
I have no future
but I will be damned if I watch another generation fall in line and be fed to this machine
no one should go quietly in the night,people have the ability and this is now
if not for the people they came from but for the children who are coming…

-silence-

Q;You really only work for xxxxxxxx? No college?
Q;You want a coffee?

I stand with Occupy and anyone making stand just for the free coffee

Too Many Doors on Ave.A

Smoke floats from the doorway cutting through the rain
The drenched city is mine but she brought the weather
I know this place and street all too well
Puddles I’ve stumbled over and slushed through on a long way home,conversations I’ve witnessed passing by on nights that never included me
I light the next cigarettes and just listen
Words of freinds to fan and back again
Streetlights catching pillows of the chain smoke
Whilst I’m just a bystander watching her talk
Drinks on the bar calling my name
As always she has to go
I could listen to this amazing girl every rainy night
And still not believe
A word

Reader Meet Author Again

I was asked recently if I ever write anything that is pretty and again criticized for not writing enough and why I don’t add any more fuel to the fire that is Occupy Wall Street which I do agree with sadly
On an average day beautiful things do pass through my brain and pass my eye
I can put words to 400 different things through the course of a 24 hour period
even the people who said this are the epitome of beauty to me
the words commit themselves as they will and as they land together
Was I born melancholy?
Could I use therapy?
Which came first the world,the love,the angst or the view were I align true north?
the answer is D everything and nothing all rolled in a coffee and a smoke
I still do not answer the emails asking if I would like to chat to someone about my my half empty syndrome, so that is a straight answer at least
All of us have carried torch of Zuccoti Park our whole lives it just took this long for it to get carried around proudly in the open air
or I could but flat out batshit crazy but that’s a whole other horse of a different set of colored questions

Monday is always Monday

Days of this nature drain the soul out of living things with every ugly downward fucking
stare it’s just the normal state of the Monday zombie complex
but then again most days are Monday on repeat,that broken mp3 player that will only Three Dog Night’s One is the Loneliest Number…it is a miserable working world after all
At the end of it even though oceans are huge
streets are ready to explode with dissent among us infidels
I am content with getting her to smile
Romantics kill fascists only a daily basis
they just take too long to figure it out

Drink flows easy when I think on the younger lil old me
how if you asked me what was in store by the age of 13,I didn’t need a police lineup
all I needed was a mirror
I was the only criminal I really needed to keep me company
no investigation needed to point him out,fuck the fingerprints and witnesses
the only bad guy would be me
why blame anyone else when you can easily be the fall guy and patsy
it does make it much easier to grab the matches
carry the gas can
smile at those bridges
burn them all into a cinder over the course of a lifetime
If the bad guy isn’t allowed to jump his way out of the mess
there’s no place left to jump
there’s way to follow

Voices blur through the day where the windows get dirtier,where the reflection staring back
meets the reality of the viewing party
the face is not mine or who it should be
it is the withered onlooker of the daily routine
nose to the grindstone,hammer in the pie
staring
waiting and hoping
listening to the hum of the great buzzing social engine
this working dinosaur’s remains wont’ be worth a barrle of piss in todays market
the longer grind,the less it’s worth
bring on a meteor
make us worth something as we slowly toil and decay
for the better running engines

No clouds.. 76 degrees

Faded American flags are replaced this time of year as if they were rehanging Christmas lights from the year before,dusting off the patriotic routine taken down from the attic of this country’s memory….
That clear morning has become a mockery
It is not my patriotic duty to succumb to the force fed talk of heroes,terrorists and war
Those men and women who ran into those buildings knew nothing nor cared about conspiracy theories that morning..they ran in as New Yorkers
I refuse to cheapen this city and those people by draping it in a flag of political agendas,lies and news programs that play out the same way a greeting card is read
If this is the only way the rest of this country can revisit or identify with these events,
Fuck them and their pick up trucks that had stars and stripes outfitted on September 12th
It is a dishonor to this city,these people and the soldiers put on the front lines of a war that they themselves do not even know why they are fighting
Tourists point to the empty skyline holding maps of where majestic steel once stood,never in the right spot taking pictures of the wrong hole in the skyline on their way to Century 21
I correct them because it never goes away
We,New Yorkers know where we were that morning without being reminded
Yes,we are still angry
We had no need for any symbols or flags waved then and we don’t need them now
Give me answers and truth
Not annual ceremonies