To keep the still in frames

2009-11-27 14.44.21


I take more pictures in winter, to keep the still in frames
I sometimes glimpse a bit of spring, through melted snow and flames

The chilly sent of icy rain, hangs throughout the town
The frosty breath of frozen lungs, while snow is falling down

I see a river flow beneath, coursing cold and runneth green
I see a North-bound, rusted train, barreling down with steam

The glow of warmth, bright with light, there’s one I call my home
I pray for the broken, ragged few, who spend this night alone

Where would I be, without this place, into a man been made
I often doubt and cry aloud, hoping again that you’d save

It’s Christmas time in Cincy-town, soon a city colored white
I will rest and spend good time, with my family here tonight

Bless us, Lord! Keep us safe! We fall down on our knees
We pray for much and forget to thank, but now we’re begging please

We are your kids, we hide as such, breaking all the joy you built
We placed on him all the shame, but still carry around our guilt

Take it all! And throw it out! I’ve been hanging on too long
Hope you’ll accept these feeble words, that now come out in song

I am one man and a broken one, you’ve asked to humbly serve
I will fail and fail again, because I haven’t got the nerve

The season is right and ripe with joy, only good comes from above
I pray for heaven coming down, I pray for your unfailing love

Vampire bullet

Black and white kinko copycats. Jacknife plinko to bring the money back, honey that’s a mystery or minstrel. Makes no sense like History channel reality shows. And reality blows when you’re working 9 to 5 cleaning toilet bowls. Shit or get off the pot. Another way to say make up your damn mind. Life can be unkind, we all know that and if we all know what Bo knows then we all know rap. All star whether with a football or a baseball bat. I bet he hates all that. Rather go pro being myself than be an idiot trying to be somebody else.

Fame called too but got a busy signal. Is he single? Nobody’s asking that. Stoners hit on bongs and then on hacky sacks. Wickety-wack tracks made by sissy science cats. Rice crispy, sticky-icky, Saturday, Luda raps. Who was that? Magnetic mellifluous wordsmith SAT. Vocab to rehab to bring the 80s back. Empty cap guns spit quick puns, son. Nothin’ to do but run from the blast. Volcano flow. Spit hot lava till your brain’ll blow. Rock cocainal though. Or K9 rhymes bearing teeth at your tanlined sandal feet. Downey brand bleach your sheets quicker than gentrified neighborhood meet and greets. To all my peeps. Rockin’ jeeps. Down the street to the beach. Save a Corona for me. I’ll bring the limes and good times but the bud will be out of reach. Keep carving a niche. Best is yet to come so I’m starving the streets. Best there ever was? Naw, that’s Shad’s decree. But silver never tasted so good. The vampire bullet is me.


Take the time to wash your soul clean.
Down by the river, born of the stream.
Take the time to see what it means.

The valley was cut by the river.
Torn in two by nothing more than water.
The valley was cut by a liquid meander.
You can be too.

Take the time to wash your soul clean.
Down by the river, born of the stream.
Take the time to see what it means.

Listen to the river.
We are all born into its banks.
Born without really knowing how to swim.
Then one day we learn.

Take the time to wash your soul clean.
Down by the river, born of the stream.
Take the time to see what it means.