extenuated trip this life
caught in motion we get
to burn it all the way out

According to poets the ride must
surely conclude with a slow dance
slow dance to death

might as well ask that pretty someone
you know you've been thinking about it all evening
in a place where it's always night

Dj knows what you need
something soft and sweet
don't be afraid
she's been waiting

palms lightly sweating
soft sweater hugging

(waiting for a chance to move
with you right into
the music,
right outta the gym, right
into a mysterious sky of
her head leaning on your shoulder)

it's never over

Again that sorrow
we know nothing about
a strange season revolving through
strands of emotional
song

songs intertwined
twisted concertos
flute, violin, piano
sadness

Electric blood madness
screams passion
shooting into the spheres
(creating new worlds)

It's a deathless transition
this dying we know of
I blow a kiss to the world
in a book
of
Poems

Snoworld slips in and out of dreams
sky filled with angels
crystals fragmented into microscopic
shards

shards that form the puzzle of our lives
falling gently into place

Thank you for noticing the tattoo
on my hand
4 letters

A sort of soul guide
that allowed us to have coffee
smile, laugh & read poetry

In the face of death
who doesn't stop staring
at us
with sweet breath
an open furnace

Waiting to turn us into so much
char-coal

But we read poetry and laughed
in the face of all our angst
in between trains and drains and jobs
and aching brains and tests and papers
and fears

the fears of not publishing
aspirations of the street artists
puking it up on the sidewalk for free
(you and me
giving it away
the words we spent a lifetime
accruing

Everything must be faced

Some kind of karmic reckoning

(She masks her

Love as

Fear

And her fear

as Hatred



remember we were each other's firsts
understand it can't be replaced

trust what you know is deep inside of you

everyone hides from Healing

Peace Spirits

...Whatever her name is she's worth falling in love with
(Don't worry, your superheroes love you too)
The sky is unfolding
Sunlight is our mother
Moonlight is her daughter
Every woman on this earth is a Goddess
Remember who you are the child of
Its sacred/awesome
this flesh and blood adventure
we are all partaking of
Peace Spirits

Proust was losing me a bit at first, with his childhood meanderings in Swan's Way, yet now
I have truly been transported and have indeed 'found time' in Proust's masterpiece,
In Search of Lost Time (vol. 1)

Where does the time go, we often ask...
up your ass is one answer..
it flies so fast, a common cliche...

We see grey hairs and creaking joints come in, loved ones pass on

But something wild and alive thrives inside us
everything we've ever smelled, dreamed, tasted or srewed is alive somewhere in our soul
and are we not a product of that amalgamation of experiences....

the quantifiable result of a life well lived?


DO IT BABY, DO IT
Do whatever adds poetry to your life
it's only poems that you can keep in the end
you can't spend money on your deathbed
but you can let a poem (or a lover long sinced estranged) roll
through your
mind


Do things
that you would like the memories of
to roll through your mind
at the moment of death,
bringing a wry smile

Just wrote something awesome here and LOST IT!!! AHHHHH

so now I will break it down to short-hand (poetry)

BROOKLYN COLLEGE ROCKS
FLATBUSH ROCKS
PROUST ROCKS
HANGING WITH BROTHERS AND SISTERS OF ALL NATIONS AND RACES ROCKS
PHILOSOPHERS DRINKING STARBUCK'S COFFEE ROCK

SMART JEWISH GIRLS RULE
BEAUTIFUL AFRICAN AMERICAN GODDESSES RULE
BROOKLYN RULES
NYC RULES
KNOWLEDGE IS SPIRITUAL POWER

THE GIRL THAT SPIT ON MY P-O-E-T TATTOO TO SEE IF IT WAS REAL,
TOTALLY RULES (& ROCKS)

They Blew Some of
My Friends
Into the Next
Life

Shattered & Charred
Some of the Memories We
Shared...





That bomb blew a hole into my heart...and many others...
It is hard to deal with the emotions...
Some moments I do not know how to feel...
I still do not know if some of my close friends are badly injured
or dead...


Many of the most beautiful and magical memories of my wild life, are from the G.B.
now those memories are overshadowed by this very disturbing act...
Suprisingly I am not angry...only deeply, deeply saddened and anguished over this...


...I believe in peace now, more than ever...violence is ALWAYS senseless, violence is never the answer...
Hug more people, be kinder to more people, be compassionate and understanding
slow down...

German Bakery

My Lover
Destroyed
Killed
Charred burnt bodies
Yet you cannot kill my
friends

They are the most beautiful spirits ever known
to this universe
Bombs do not destroy
Buddhas

Terrifying Experience of Being Alive

...We try perpetually to deny it...believe we are beyond it when "things" are going well, but leave no doubt about it...LIFE IS TERRIFYING


...We usually feel either superior or inferior to others, we oscillate like a broken
magic trick, between the two...


...It's in our twisted DNA to endure...god knows why (some strong cavemen in the family tree?)


...Strong, smart, cunning, vicious, horny cavemen and presto...here we are...

...From grunts, to etchings, to tablets to scrolls, to books, to blogs

...Blogging and flogging our brains out....

Strange cavemen we have become

enduring death, shamanism and the atomic bomb
surviving despite religion and politics
Vampiric paradigms of destruction
leveling cultures with the sweep of
a microscopic gesture

You are the Infinite

Your Life/Time
Is a Circular
Banquet

Revolving around
Your infinite
Selves

Back To Brooklyn

I made the monumental/evil decision to move back to NYC, (Brooklyn to be more precise)today
.... my poetry must be marketed, and I am the perfect Monster to do it....I will shoot myself like an arrow, like a bullet, against the concrete of NY and she if anything breaks...take another stab at the city and see if any blood is drawn...

I've taken a bunch of nighttime Robutussin...to clear the clogged passages of my cold swelled nasal membrane (and any other general pain) and it has worked and I'm drowsy and I'm happy that life is moving foward...and that I'm not going to quietly fade away in this sleepy little town...

And I had a conversation with an incredibly intelligent woman today, who also seems to be just as incredibly cool & beautiful...she is the first and last of her kind...immensley wonderful and she is even, yes...American...a real American beauty....

she has a hot sexy, delicious brain! (and she's girl next door knockout pretty)

I need to be friends with this fine specimen of evolution....

And I'm goin' back to Brooklyn back to Flatbush where my mother was born and my Jewish ancestors lived since the middle of the 1800's....perhaps living in Brooklyn will bring me better luck than living in Manhattan has....

Whitman was from Brooklyn, Ginsburg taught at Brooklyn College, my spritual/poetic fathers prospered there, and so will I....

Gearing up, this fall I will go there with pockets full of student loan cash and a head soggy with caffiene and poetry and an insane hunger for knowledge....

Rock On Strangers,
It's too long of a road not to go for broke,
So whatever it is you wanna/need to do
DO IT NOW,
DO IT WITH GUSTO
GO BIG
IT'S OK TO FAIL
PULL THE TRIGGER
JUMP
RUN
FLY

You Have Shitloads of Wealth!

The treasure you've been looking for is...YOUR OWN LIFE...yeah,yeah, too corny right?
Heard it before right? heard it from your granmother rite? Yes I spelled rite in two different ways for those of you that noticed (no one is reading this anyway right?)

Your LIFE...YOU ARE A BOOK, read it! Read your own poetry book, your old letters, photo album, look at your dam Facebook if you have to, but drink down the nectar of being...

Phantoms

Who are we writing songs in our head to.
What ghosts are we chasing.
Same demons
running in a circle

How many lives are inside you? 3 poems on the verge of sleep

Nighttime rush of lives
streaming through our minds
memories flood, blood-crush times
speed thru blinding years
spinning into the absent
centrifuge of whatever
seems to be passing
into the storm


whatever became of the
child in your mind who once imagined
dreams that are the same as night and day
(what died inside of you
that you still hide
from strangers
and your
reflection)
Peacefully





Exaclty at this time the moon betrays
your subtle promises
promises you never really meant
against the wet stone of a life you never
had
a life
you missed by a mile
for a simple distraction
that seemed
easier

Coffee Poetry-Ramblings

I have not had any caffiene in many hours...

I ritualistically drink coffee before I write anything, so this is going to be dangerous....


Words stumble clumsily from my time-tattered
coffee-table-garbage-can-rusted-car-frame
BRAIN...

Dancers
all of us
Masked bandits
stealing pieces of others
to complete the patchwork
of our lives/souls

Haunted Mansions
by the seashore
all of us
Broken
Perfectly




Hug someone you don't noramlly hug
Fall in love with somebody you would not normally fall for
Dig some earth
Hang out with a raccoon or other wild animal (they are wise beyond measure)
Forgive your enemies
forgive your friends
forgive your lovers
dismantle the apparatus of your understanding





Peace-On Rockers
Love and laughter forever



Sohan

To The One....

To the one follower reading this blog....you are crazy, & I love you...you are wrong you are right you are enlightened you are lost, you have no business being here and I need you, stop reading this there is definitely something wrong with you and that’s what I like about you....

Even if you desert me I will still write to the Akashik records of the BORG and the borg will imbibe me in utter Zen Silence and shit me out into a parallel universe, but we are one You and I beloved Follower....

You must be the smartest person online to....you are wise enough to read this shit, but it’s not shit, precisely because you are reading it...

ROCK on One Follower....
I raise my cup to you, and my cup is
FULL

Peace & Love

Poetic Combustion

Smashing away lath & plaster ceilings this morning I discovered some wool I(yes wool!) insulation above the lath boards...("well, that should be good for the ol' allergies") more horrid work of the struggling poet/Grad Student...sleep deprivation and hard physical labor followed by evening Yoga! Ah my beloved friend the Yogi, dragging me to classes when I'm exhausted...good stuff, good stretch-workout-meditation...

...Rambling incoherent poet...how much of our lives are spent incoherently? Lost in confusion, fear, doubt pain? Quite a bit eh? Fear and loathing you say? Welcome to the jungle/dungeon of despair...we go to bars and cafes looking for beautiful people to torture/be tortured by...we are fiends for emotional pain...disease

...We collect diseases of the soul...diseases of the mind (I collect volumes of archaic literature in my decaying brain)...dispute points of grammar with PhD's...

Dream about reconstructing anachronistic American engines....dream of being someone else's open piped nightmare, ripping through their straight world with shotgun precision....

explosions of sound/poetry/speed...cover your ears, hold on to something plug your mind it's not safe...

...Have I said anything yet? Have you thought of anything

Blistered-response
Nirvanic-Disasters
After the flood/flames
subside receive the quiet moon
in all your mania
it's only the radio frenzy
turn it up or turn if off
but just don't
stop



Peace and madness Ya'll

Love
Andrew Sohan George

Inevitable Exoneration

I often fear that I'm losing my mind, although some would say I never had one, and still others that I smoked and burned it all up in the 80's. All are true. I feel a growing fog on my clean mind...it seems to thicken daily, however, throw me in a room full of English Grad students and everything sharpens up...get me talking critical trash about Proust (I now know it's pronounced Proost) and I'm electrified...
I feared my return to The MA English program at Brooklyn College, but after a day of classes I'M BACK...the old noggin' still works when I want it to. The hours of commuting to school with a brain even more seriously fried from kerosene fumes (see yesterday's post) did nothing to impede me. Feeling dazed and lackadaisical all the way into the city....but once I hit the steps outta’ Port Authority I was bounding up them like a gazelle. NYC instantly shot me up with energy, and BAM I was back with a vengeance. All the fear and doubt of my academic abilities, and endurance vanished. Even the squeamishness of 4 more semesters of bus commutes dissipated rapidly, as a new vigor of intellectual enthusiasm washed over me...

(Not to mention hot girls with big brains...ouch!)


Use it or lose it (your mind that is) you are all CREATORS

DO ME A FAVOR AND CREATE SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL...maybe just for yourself, or the whole world
or anything in between

Peace,
Rock on Forever

Sohan

Degradation and Poison

All paid jobs absorb and degrade the mind.
-Aristotle

If you can, and she'll let you, go home and live with your mother before you labor away the prime of your life at a shit job...become a painter, a musician, learn to play guitar or clarinet, go to school for your doctorate if you must, but spare your mortal soul and avoid having what is commonly referred to as a J-O-B....

My very being was poisoned today, by the fumes of a kerosene burning heater as I put together custom storm windows in a garage for what amounts to about 2 months of my cell phone bill in wages...

(i want to ask myself, "dear poet what have you done"?)

-shouldn't I be doing something romantic like horseback riding on the shore of some Ilsand whose name I can't pronounce?

-On a different note, I should perhaps also be having some kind of torrid love affair with an insanely beautiful and evil woman, however, one never seems to have time for such things whilst doing a Master's degree (and poisoning one's self on toxic fumes)

.... On yet another note,I need a Harley Davidson motorycle again...the kind that is so loud it makes children cry and car alarms go off and young women tingle inside...

Fuck the bills, fuck resonsibility...

Responsibility is for the poor in soul...

and I may be poor in monetary ways, but I am not dear reader, poor in Soul...

make your soul rich brothers and sisters, laugh and cry and fuck and fight, ride motorcycles,
see the world,

Buy trashy novels and read them on the beach while not working,

Talk all day with friends, sit and wathc t.v. all day and night talk on the phone, drink coffee
drink whatever you want, travel the world....screw anything that moves....

But whatever you do, take care of your soul, don't bankrupt it by making excuses about work and responsibility...

Listen to Aristotle's advice once in a while....

Voodoo Chile Beats the Man:Pays the Rent!

The miracle call came in at 7:35Am, a time when all good poets are slumbering mercilessly...I lay awake in contemplation last night going over the brief but horrid exchange I would have with the Land-Lord(of the rings?) explaining how it would be entire weeks before I actually produced the rent....the horror of it plauged me every time I got up in the middle of the night to piss away the caffiene of the previous day...I tried to go with the flow, remain Jedi-Knight like, and was doing a pretty decent job...but the early AM rescue call was such a relief/rush that it took me an hour to get back to sleep...pure poetry sleep ( a formerly reluctant, close relative, came up with the heroic amount of cash I needed to pay the rent on this mildew covered crumbling shack of an animal stable(no offense to animals) that I dwell in)...

Shouldn't we live our lives like mad-men?
look at what "sane" men have done to the world


Are you mad enough? Wild enough? Insane enough? I want to screw over every creditor I've ever owed and buy a new harley/, move to the east Village and live in some hovel, of mega-overpriced shit-hole, drink espresso all night with too-thin, beautiful people and live in a poetic haze ,

Poetic haze of beautiful
destruction-un-construction
"bring me the beautiful crazie
Hyper-intelligent muther fuckers"

Let's make moonbeam pipes and smoke the
dawn, crash stars as if they were
cars

C'mon time-wrestlers
the fight is over
take off the crown of thorns and replace it
with bic lighters and butane flames

This is the 21st century for hell's sake
play an old record
burn a book (a textbook perhaps)

Read a novel (a good one)
drink with a bum
sunbathe
river-jump
ride-fast
let the strained part of your
brain
crack open




(don't pay attention to any of that shit it's just poetic sense)


Peace All
Love to all brothers and sisters