They say shamans are 

the reason we evolved

Sacred caveman 

that found the gap

 Everything gets old

What you wanna do 

Ridin dinosours 

Goin down in flames

we had the hots for 

all of it 

(don't remember there names)

it takes oxygen fuel and spark 

to make that engine go but we 

ran outta places to run to a long 

time ago 

Cuz everything gets old 

but that's all right with me 

right here is where I was always 

supposed to be

 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.

You get trapped in
whatever pattern you
choose

You always can choose
a new pattern

Which is also a pattern
that needs to be disrupted

You only have so many gods
and each one can only disrupt
so many patterns

We've all done the elementary stuff
fire
ice
freedom
enlightnement

Stop making patterns
stop making gods

For me and Mr. Fine

Whatever your holding onto
is the Obstacle

Forever Two Wheels but
there's something you got
to drop too

The bad trips and other
peoples riffs and the
beats they tried to
bomb you

With too much media
and too much mainstreem
dream for yourself
you got to
dream for yourself
son

YOU ARE THE ONE

The only way you
are going to understand
God is if you
Lose
Everything

People that thought safety was
freedom

Died inside before they were
born

You ain't takin' me down with you

Live free
or
Die

And found out
what went wrong
after we followed to the beggining
stars no more than gasses
imploding once again from the
infinite to the infinite
it was all more perfect
than we could ever
relax into

We thought this was
about answers,
justice and
cash for all

Freedom is much more
painful/cleansing
Darkness burned out slowly

God is a chemist

What did we
suspend of ourselves
unto the mirror we
thought was us

Only to float
through a sustained dream
...then wading
deep into primeval
backwaters

Past cosmic origins
waiting

God likes motion that's why
he made the planets spin

classical narratives
written in stone


Never scoff at mythology
it's all we're made of

She angel cried
into our broken future
the poet is a little surprized

how it still dances ghostlike
through haunted houses
of stillness memories

even though it is
many planets away

Spearhead of the past has

to be what breaks through now 

(back when we didnt know how 

to find information or make a 

phone call or look something up)

You asked your friend directions 

and somebody on the street blurted it 

out the danger was what made

NYC good

the dirty edge of not knowing and all the 

queers and their colors of vision and 

showing

the addicts in the park, they are all that remains

after the srip malls took over MY CITY

Ginsburg was free to fight the machine

in the undergound bars uptown 

(whitman could sing us a song of an 

idylic Brooklyn)

My ghosts don't even dream of there anymore

The only real poems
I ever wrote are in
the hearts of the people
that loved them

(yes I:
wrote some poems
rode my motorcycles
loved some women
met some goddesses

Sat stone faced with the
masters after transcedning
into the light inside

came back the the West
to thrash around on the shores
of 1st world control

tried to suceed in the animal
heirarchy of lust and greed
and fear

But I may have made someone smile
eased a care of a friend
allowed some few to love me)

And my brothers in arms
and days on the rode
trying to be heroes
and outrun ghosts

(Remember when we
had the lifetime highs
of the miracle times)

She wore her life like a
a transparent garment revealing
a golden goddess too fine
to see

When we squinted our eyes
in the sunlight we could see
rainbows through feathers

A call to your higher
self

(disdain for perfection)
you hunt a primal
machine

Fullfillment of all
desires

Riders of analog machines
choking on digital miasma

I'd like to breathe the unrestricted
fumes of the 70's again.

Stop by someone's house,
let the phone ring off the hook

(stumble through forests
reading books of poetry

skip class smoking
cigs lifted off our parents

When you were gone you
were gone
no electronic grid to
hide from)

Eagle or owl
He'll  beat your
hand everytime

Can.t make rules
for an outlaw

coffee blackness
absence of machines
we held as sacred

black dog sat covered
respendant in tarhished steel
waiting to howl for anyone
with the
key

crazy enough to ingite her fuel and
ride