Only  my motorcycle is perfect

God is a fucked up Puerto Rican

roaming the streets of NYC

Bissfully confused

INTERVIEW WITH MYSELF

 Q: Was Jesus a Time-Lord

A: Was and still is, greatest of all time. The true Bohdisattva

Q:Were you ever in Pune-Inda?

A:Lived and died there a thousand times. The night was filled with a web of jewels and black pyramids

The days were a million dusty ghosts of love waning and waxing opposite the lunar cycle.

Q: Did you ride motorcycles

A: Motorcyles were my mother's milk and man-made hormones. They are an appendage and chariot of dreams, visons passions and life/death itself. Japanese perfected perfection and speed. American bloodstream perfect oscillation uneven rythym of God. The big bang is every combustive explosion of cylinders firing on my Harley-Davidson. That shit is tattooed on my arm. If you think you have ridden for 1,000 years I've probably been on more motorcycles than you and more women.

Q: Is there hope for Earth

A: We evolved from the caveman...myriad of species. Created fire, writing and infinite structures. We reach for the stars. Aliens are probably us, a million or billion years into the future. It's us reaching for ourslelves. Gods creating Gods. Mother earth harmony. We are still in the garden. Hallelujah.