An Open Letter.

Dear Selfless Masses,

You are growing in number,

suffering
from a cataract
of good intent,

an addiction

to Veiled Schadenfreude,

an affliction

called Indiscrimination.

Symptoms include

becoming "Yes-men"

with a constant need

to help Others.

Withdrawal includes

recognition of

the screaming need

to focus on yourself.

Selfishness:

a harrowing surreality,

we know.

Don't fear.

We're here.

After assessing,

discriminating,

detecting your worth,

we may choose

to assist you.

Should you come up short,

sorry,

there's nothing we can do

for you.

If you've learned a thing

from this note,

you should not take offense

to such addressed honesty.

Instead, 

 1. know you don't need us,

 2. address what's at stake,

 3. put the TV on the sidewalk,

 4. with the news, build a hat,

 5. bar the door;

 6. unplug,

 7. turn off,

 8. take time,
 9. read this,

10. and don't-forget-to-breathe.

Thoughts will come

if you let them.

If thinking for Self

is too much

coming from us,

remember the words

of your foremartyr:

nothing will change in this world

if you can't first change it

in you.

Hope we see you

on the other side.

With Love,

The Recovery Team

On finding your coffeeshop.

Life is beautiful,
          regardless of the hell we swim in
          & the love we choke on.
A day, sunny & blue
          to explore my South Street--
          not as tourist, but at home.
So many places, just tryna' make it
          Aladeen out of business?
          Failed Disney's magic carpet.
Keep on, Big Green Earth Store--
          I want this: free--
          take all 3. Sold!
No more cancer in my space.
          No more Dollar Store scares.
          Still an hour? I need dinner.

Time to try The Bean.
          Almost empty--like I want it.
          Soft music, soft typing,
               chairs which don't corrupt.
Gimme the standard-wich,
          with bagel, egg, & cheese.
               Hot coffee--gimme plenty
               & Tabasco, don't get lazy.
Window seat, best light,
          best spot to escape,
          see faces & street.

There's that old man I passed
          stopped right outside--opposite:
          grey beard, red pants, Cosby sweater, rusty bike,
          lingering stare: Just.For.Me.
He's Beat. He knows.
          Had to find me again
               to gift me with that wink & grin.
              Thanks, man.

Must learn of she whom he becries,
          with the benzedrine & the suicide eyes.
          Don't hear the freedwomen--only guys:
               what if where & who I'm with
               are my place & guides?

The chick with the words, me--
          amidst the tongue-tied, stuck inside.
               checks & balances,
               callbacks, freakouts.
Come here for a minute...
          No! Take me with you.
               Calm down, listen,
               & provide me protection.
We can do this alone, or try,
          but why?
               We won't make it out alive:
               Alive the way we need to die
                    to step out on the right side.

F

A space is only as clean as its bathroom.

Fuck yes.

Chinatown Bus Philosophy Class.

This is a belated post written on my way to DC on 3 October 2009. I just remembered it:

Five o'clock, we can't be late
Move this bus, need this escape
to the capitol for 14 bucks
pissed, foreign, lookin' for luck
shelter from 3 hours' sun
recycled air stifles all: one
six-foot five and red black man
thinks comfort should trump profit. Damn!

What if the yellow sun'd-Asian
listened to this California raisin
if he unwrinkled his nose
kept eyes less off me, more on his toes

What if we talked to our Selves
developed muscles for mind elves
if cell phones were cigarettes
save souls from second-hand smoke Tourette's

So long to think, so much to sow
can't move too much, can't throw my 'bows

ideas are flowing, sprung a leak
wish telepathy could spark the weak

clouds catch the sun, great mystery
ethereal, metaphysical, reality

what's real? what's right? what's fate? What's sleep?
Sought ultimate truths are molten, deep.

Public transport philosophy,
Eastern neighbor serendipity.

From Whence It Came or To Whence It Goes?

Originality, a Western distortion:

My thoughts are all History.

I'm not at all Special,

but it's a nice comradery

to know I'm not alone--

just amongst Special.

L-Town Rock

Depart: My apartment, South Philly; 11:16am

Bananas on top of fire alarms;
Backwoods banshees do no harm:
Screaming karma gets you nowhere.
Look out the window, there’s so much there!

PATCO screeches, djembe drums,
Cyclo-commuter, he ain’t dumb.
Golf umbrella and rain guard attached;
Man’s got what I don’t on my back.

Pocket-sized and streamlined lives
Protect from tumbling nosedives.
Blackberry or iPhone, can’t live without?
In your Escalade, no doubt.

My Life could fit inside that prison
American dream, Jesus is Risen.
Freedom? Try a week on a bike.
Find addictions your whole Self will like!

Time on a train is time worth takin’,
Just open those eyes to thoughts worth makin’.

Arrive: Lindenwold, NJ; 11:55am