Too many sleepers in a city that never sleeps
Hiding eyes see no evil
Through crowed streets shielding the untouched unclean masses
Oz sold out the Tin Man for a better view of the burning state
Ruby slippers out on the stroll trying to feed a Scarecrow’s family
The only yellow brink road is
the one on the jukebox
these streets are not paved for you
Or I
They are carved from empty glass dreams in the cement
That has been handed down through nursery rhymes and bedtime takes
If you can make it here
it will find you anywhere
It’s up to you at a price
Ask Auntie Em where the dog is


Got a Nickel?

My watch can be set by the people i see during my commute and morning coffee,I have said it already too many times so consider it cliche’ I suppose
lately in my eye shot of chain smoke I have discovered something new to add to the time
it goes unoticed in the neighborhood since it’s rather common
every morning I spot a young attractive couple walking hand in hand,very affectionate for that early in the wee hours of the morning
they are not out going to breakfast or doing the morning power walk
there is a huge shopping cart full of cans traling with them
laughing and smiling
chatting and giggling
it could very well be a date in the coffee shop
people losing their empires,countries in mayhem
marriages of the rich crumbling over BMW payments
this happy couple is out collecting cans sifting through trash whilst the world falls to hell around them
I don’t watch in envy,I watch in wonder

Quick Quiz of Sorts

Get out that book
turn on any radio station
any bad cable movie channel more so on lifetime
listen to almost any music
walk down any street then peek into any place along the way
chances are there is a romance there
not the romance on the cover of shitty novels but a love affair with the idea of the black cat downtrodden
great stories of a misunderstood diamond in the rough working class joe with a cracked heart of gold who tries to do everything the right way but gets dealt shitty cards one night
in the pissing downpour of a rainy backstreet whilst trying to walk 425 miles home from a shitty ass job to see his only love now he is ducking alleyways of local crooked congressman loan sharks
who run gangs of inbred crowbar carrying NRA members trying to pin the murder the queen of the strawberry day parade on him even though he was home helping his sick father
pick tomatoes in the garden trying to be controlled by the tyrant who owns the short changing fruit empire.. let the credits roll
its lovely story of triumph of the spirit
give it 27 golden globes with 2 shiny fucking gold pulitzer prizes
so a proper question is though…after the credits what happens when that sad old song is done playing that everyone relates too?
A)does our happy working hero go back to work?
B)does all that grand charisma go down the shitter with his woman when the bank account is overdrawn?
C)what happens when the first job falls through at the hands of finding the second job?
D)with only one job is paying worth a shit does the proposition of selling other goods on the side just to keep some sort of stability comes into play?
E)with a now credit score lower than an tundra weather forecast will school or hopes of borrowing a shovel happen?
F)All of the above

If you guessed (F) then you saw this one coming a mile away, well done almost
everyone loves a great underdog survival of sanity fight story were we can all were the heroes’ clothes
now tell long would you want to live this way in real life?
how quick would you let your sister or daughter bring that guy home?
hey ladies how long would you actually stay with this man even everything else was knock your socks off?
How fast would you even give anyone like this the time of day if you didnt’ thinking he was trying ask you for money?

G)It would take you just about as long as it took to read this nonsense

A Message in a Bottle for the Collections Agent,oh and Piss Off

Back when i was a company mercenary ,well first not the shirt and tie type more of the doc marten and black flag t shirt wearing type
i was sent to another location to clean up another mans mess,he was given the job as the only man left with two good eyes and one good leg
the state of the place was disgraceful except for one gleaming hope…a pierced good looking inked kid who had every potential to conquer the world
if only he was given his say if your looking for the homoerotic art its not going to how up but keep reading there is a moral
i walked in with my coffee started to look around when he got curious and asked if he could help me with anything, i told him my name and his eyes lit up with disbelief as if i had my name was william wallace
this man was a few years the younger but lost all belief in himself ,the workforce and most of all anyone with authority
who would blame him the least bit he had been abused, beat up also never shown how or why he was doing the work he was doing
two years went by i was stuck there with basically him and myself in a retail vietnam
to this day we hold records for things done in the company which id’ say isnt too shabby for a loose cannon and a rough cut diamond
as the sun came up one bright morning with the smell of new jersey starting to creep through the summer air we were deep in discussion over the paperwork, coffee in chain smoking
our backs were against the wall once again i was explaining how i was going to build rome in a day with a rubber band some cardboxes and one of those old ugly yellow walkmans
the plan wasnt’ sounding all too good with him but i was reminding him what we have done also what i have pulled off in the past
now ive’ been robbed at gun point so i have dealt with seriousness
flustered and angry with the most serious heart attack face ive’ ever seen
my brother in arms unleashed one of the best sentences ive’ ever have the fortune of hearing
-i dont’ care what you have been through or what we have done this is me standing here going through it-
it rang in my ears again today
a sentence most people could use everyday
compassion for the soul standing next to you or on that telephone line
is a wonderful thing

To Whom it may Concern 45

To whom it may concern ,
i will forewarn you this may go off on a tangent as i climb onto this huge soapbox that
ive’ piece together with cheap glue ,the typical new york story of the aching back and long sleeves for the carrying
of the heart aim isnt’ a lee harvey oswald at anyone but a firehose aimed at anyone who will care to hear normally
a letters of this nature is for one person so if you wish to take it personal be my guest it might actually make more sense then…
this is an idea thats been circling the orbit of my brain since i was just the wee bastard in school being taught by people who were not fit to anyone
anything about life or what was even written in the outdated text book
so now that im a bigger bastard who has been around the block ,roamed these gritty allyways,kicked out of coutries and all without a trust fund
my lovely idea has crawled up from the depths of my grey matter
everyday i see dire faces, tired backs,people losing their homes as well as their minds,telephone calls from creditors and banks
job loss,workforce cutbacks if you can name it i see it on an everyday basis just for the simple fact im one of these people who is more or less
being told by the world that im not needed anymore just like outdated software the working man is obsolete piece of scrap metal that is no longer needed
in the social infrastructure be it in the suit in tie or the dirty work pants
welcome to the gentrification of the human condition and spirit…
so since most of us are so unimportant to the bailout caste system
everyone who has had enough just simply as a collective call out well from whatever workplace you despise on one day out of a year
pick a day where everyone phones up the boss and calls off work for the day for whichever reason you choose even if its to just sit on the couch and watch mindless daft televison
the file clerk,the dig digger,pill pusher, the fry cook, the guy who tries to wash your windshield at the intersection
it was a childs’ idea that ive’ recalled from my angry inner childs’ hands that when added todays state of things it is a captal idea of sorts
so imagine x amount of the disgruntled public everywhere all not being in work all on the same day
im not suggesting all meeting up for drinks or holding hands and singing around the campfire
i fathom since most of this country is unimportant to their respected jobs we wont all be missed no?
who will make your triple espresso xanax soy latte?
who will pump the gas in new jersey?
who will hand out the tanning oil before you go into the oompa machine?
who will try to teach your spoiled children while you do the neighbors teenage kid?
who will make billion dollar blunders on the trading wall street floor?
whos’ going to sell the blow to the guy who makes that billion dollar blunder?
who will make sure your phone/internet is working so you can update your facebook status?
and all the douchebag collections agents will go work so as an added bonus we can all hang up on them ….

it would be just a small reminder that without people your nothing (thank you mr.strummer)

Death or Glory,

Hes a man you meet everyday

Everyone is enamoured with the broken hero
the lonely tough misunderstood
fighting a lost cause of a war that hes forgot why he is even fighting or which side he is even on
down on his luck
wild roving
drinking til he forgets
heavy glaring pain in his eyes
being easy and free
having absolutely nothing left to hold onto
we all love him
well at least until your that guy

More Forks the Better

With all the shops being closed around me more giving up the ghost to the trending new york city way its coming into light that why should i be any diffrent
board up these windows, pack up whats left
hoist the anchors and cut the ropes
the winds have chosen otherwise it seems
all the lives to lead
theres schedules to keep
priorities to be met
procrastination only passes time until the ineveitable finally grins
fighting it only wears a fighter thin
no matter how good of a right hook you have
fucking bastards have one hell of a chin and never hear the bell