Urban and narative poetry, vbog, personal journal
Business as usual for myself isn’t
prosperous – it’s survival.
It shouldn’t be this way.
I often thought that if I can get rid of some habits and focus more on my prosperity I would be happier.
And I have conflicting needs that’s not helping at all.
So, what can prone away to get to the level I need?
I admit that I’m not the most intelligent of rats.
I’m trapped in this trap.
Though it didn’t kill me,
My nightmare is that I will never escape.
“San Diego, CA., Most Beautiful City In America.”
Grieving,
candles burning the streets.
Someone died here.
Two days ago,
A tent neighborhood was here,
‘luxuary’ apartments towering above.
And the neighborhood is gone.
It was OK
Before that hill.
My walking slowed to a crawl
And breathing became labored.
But you can’t put coins in a ATM,
So now I have to have another one….
06:22 pm
If it looks like Donald Trump, sounds like Donald Trump and stages an insurrection, then he deserves and earned his seat in court and jail.
But it’s 2023.
For myself, the country of the United States cannot be taken seriously.
I used to write and blog more because of issues like this, but there ceased to be a country worth saving a long time ago.
I need to find other issues worth writing about.
I need other muses.
Write
Read
Walk….
to create worlds
and then go to them
My feet crushes alabaster snow
In foothills,
where dear shoot men
for dinner
At the summit
the orgies
can last for eternity.
But I have nothing to
read
they torched all
the libraries.
So I read the graffiti
on the walls.
I walked to the summit,
but they moved
all the orgies
So I only walk the Streets.
A guard walks through,
watching people at public
desk tops.
The library is new,
but feels like a prison….
There is a old building
that was once a main library
built in the ’40s.
The homeless now camp
on it’s sidewalk
blocking pedestrians.
Neither is truly free.
It’s been
dry all winter,
So when the fire
came,
the forest
was ready to
burn.
I cannot flee.
They caught me
when I
was young,
still
attach
to mother.
I know
I’m not tied
down,
yet I cannot flee.
Tents burn,
people and
animals scatter
to escape.
The air
is
getting
thinner….
Are you a toaster?
A painting?
Or are you what
You create?
I’m someone
perfecting myself
as a sexual being.
I am a bearer of orgasm
And ecstacy.
This is my way.
People walking,
while people sleep in
the
streets.
Is that an emotion,
A sense of helplessness?
A powerlessness,
despite having wealth
Or fame.
Are we a people anymore?
Are we human,
Are you human?
Liferaft in the Abyss