Tuesday, March 4, 2014


LIFE comes from the Spirit.
Even as a man casts a shadow, so the Spirit casts the Shadow of Life,
And, as a shadow of former lives, a new life comes to this body.

- THE UPANISHADS; Prasna; Third Question.

Gentle Men...

(Moment of silence for dramatic effect)

I could absolutely convince you
Of the Abstract Tangibility of your front row
Cushioned throne
Amidst this amphitheatre
- Entirely your own -
For viewing this spectacle
Hypothetically titled:

History in The Making, As Usual

Then believe you me...

I'd make like a Beatle,
Pull a Revolver
And take a shot at it.


Life is too short.
Love is too great.
Got nothing against marketing, only too much to Give.

There is a Grand Total
- Six or seven of you -
Who have been tuning in to this Blogger Adventure of ours,
Ever since we kicked off just this past January/February or so...


Just as a fine wine
All too quickly comes down to
The One Drop,
This Blogger Adventure of ours
Is coming to a close →
A finish →
The End, The End, The End...

(Moment of silence for dramatic effect)

And yes,
A New Beginning starts now →
And yes,
We have saved the best wine
For last →

No, no, no -
I don't got no Record Deal -
No, no, no -
Can't get no satisfaction, neither,
But us Pinballs don't get caught by that
Seeing as we already be knowing that
If we're put UP we'll soon be tumbling DOWN -
Always getting DOWN for that HIGHER GROUND →

Am Building
What is To Be a Most-Exciting Website.

Via this Website,
I shall be pursuing a feat of exceeding Daring -
Relaying my Learning and Advancement for the Sharing -
Crusading on a Literary Endeavor,
By both Fine Line and Measure -
An Adventure with roots that have only begun
To Touch
To Tempt
To Thread the Darkness of All that is This Mysterious Universe

Feel me or not, dig it or don't →



And whatever role befit ya,
I ask just this and only this,
Of you -

SISTERS, Assist →
LOVERS, Love Me Do →
HATERS, Do Me Rough →
BROTHERS, Toughen UP tough, Tough, TOUGH →
And last but never least,
Gentle Men...

(Moment of silence for dramatic effect)

Yours Truly,



Monday, March 3, 2014

Sunday, March 2, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 6 - THE THIEF'S THEME - 3/3 - PART 2 of 2

I was at one end of the block.
Tod was at the other end of the block.
I was walking with my chest yolked out like Popeye on Spinach.
Tod was poking around, peeking here and there, unaware I was even coming at him -
That is -
Until I let him know -

“YO! BRO!”

I yelled down the block in the deepest
Most lowest
Most mighty range I could muster.

Tod looks up like WTF -
Sees me walking at him in all my winter layers
Like some cumulus billow of rolling thunder.

“I'm not playing around,” I told him, “You got my sign or not?”

I know, I know -
All this anger and angst over a piece of cardboard
That says CUP of SOUP?
Ridiculous, I know.
But look and listen here, most beloved Reader.
If you haven't already come to terms with the fact that your narrator
Is a Ridiculous (albeit Determined) character,
Then it's probably in your best interest to start reading
Here and there
More often,
In general
And a little closer like

| between |

My CUP of SOUP? Sign
Was the reason I could financially support
My Writing – my Work – my Duty
Without having to speed off to a Food Kitchen.
My CUP of SOUP? Sign
Was the reason I could afford a Locker Apartment
So I didn't have to lug a suitcase of clothes around town.
My CUP of SOUP? Sign
Was Da Bombest of Da Bomb Signs of Wintertime NYC
Which in conjunction with
Da Bombest of Da Bomb U.S.A. Citizens
Made it possible for me to actually function
At a level of -


Almost equal to that of a normal Human Being.
Could I have made another one?
O Sure.
But face it, baby -
At this point, it was both personal and a matter of principle.

And what was Tod up to while I was trompsin' forth?

Tod was frowning.
Tod was snarling.
Tod was probably almost pissed as I was
And looking ready to push 'N shove
'N try 'N beat me up.

“Yo, what's your deal, Bro?” he starts, “I told you I don't have a clue 'bout what sign you're talking about!”

I was still approaching.

“You sure that's the Truth?”

Tod pulls his pants down; I stopped the approach.

“Search me Bro,” he said, “Come on, have a look around,” he continued, “But don't come mobbin' down the block with your 'YO BRO,' accusing me of stealing when you got absolutely nothin' on me.”

Tod wasn't wearing underwear. Served me right.

“Pull your pants up, dude,” I said, looking him in the eye, constantly reminding myself not to look anywhere else.

Seeing as it was very, very cold,
He did so as slickly as he had dropped them,
And started pacing about with fervor.

I let out an exasperated breath.

“Okay,” I said, “I'm cool – you cool?”

Tod wasn't cool.
Tod was still pacing.
Thought he was about to Tantrum.

“It probably blew under one of these cars,” I explained to him, as though he actually gave two shits. “Come on, let's go through with the plan. I'm going to go up to my Locker and get my flashlight. We'll drop you at floor #3 on my way up.”

“Forget it, man.”

Tod was still pissed.

“Gonna light this spliff up right now,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “This night has been way too much.”

And this, I imagined, was how Tod probably dealt with most problems.

“You got a light, Bro?” he asked.

I heard him ask that over my shoulder,
But didn't respond.
At that point,
I was already entering the Locker Building
Quite aware that it was precisely the exact time to carry on without Tod
And in the meantime,
Perhaps question the haphazard scenarios I was putting myself through
All in order to avoid the demands of a 'normal job'
Just in order write and write and write where and whenever I liked all

<3 <3 <3 For Universal You <3 <3 <3

I pull my keycard out
Pressed the button to open the Elevator Doors
And Lo...

Facing up...
On the industrial elevator floor in all its pepperoni/anchovy stained glory...

My CUP of SOUP? Sign
- 9 sweet letters and one question mark -
Addressing me like:

'Yeah, I've been here,' said CUP of SOUP? 'And where the f*ck were u?'

“Hey Baby,” I said, as I happily retrieved her up. “You bailed on me,” I rightly accused, “As I rightly recall tucking you in between my back and sleep-pack tight.”

Behind me.
I turned around and held the elevator doors.
A Police Car parked out front.
Two policemen exited the vehicle.
Both walked directly towards the main office of the Locker Building.
They entered.

I walked casually through the Locker Garage Entrance,
Stepped outside,
Came to halt and had a look around.

Tod was gone.
Out of sight.
Had disappeared proper like a true thief of the night.

I stood there a moment longer,
Wondering what hard times this kid was going through,
What he had done and where he was off to now.

Remembering I had work to do, I got on my way.


Saturday, March 1, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 6 - THE THIEF'S THEME - 3/3 - PART 1 of 2

In the Elevator,
Going down,
I wedge my 'CUP of SOUP?' Sign
Between my back and sleep-pack,
In order to free my hands up
In preparation to loosen and untie
My left Dr. Marten Steel-Toe Boot that was hurtin' something awful.

The boots had seen better days...
Just not any time recent.
Between the weather and my daily trompsin',
They were plain as day, wrecked beyond ruin.

Elevator doors opened,
I stepped out and through the automatic sliding doors
To the warehouse-like opening of the Locker Building Entrance
Where I kneeled down
And got to adjusting.

“Arghhh...” I groaned.

Along the seam of the front of the shoe,
Where the leather was once upon a time connected to the sole,
The Steel-Toe of my left boot was exposed,
Stuck at an awkward angle that I was trying to finagle,
As it was clamping the knuckles of my toes.

“Man,” I said, still working to adjust it, “Need to get me out of this Old Brown Shoe...”

Just then,
The security comes out of his lookout post,
Walking towards the main office,
Being followed by this outrageous kid -
Maybe 24 or 25 years old -
Who is yelling after the guard
Who pays him no mind.

“Why won't my card work?!” he cries -
“Why won't you let me inside?!” he shouts -
“Why won't you let me up to get my stuff?!” he demands.

Security guard pivots hot on the spot.

“You know exactly why...”

Had come to a complete stop at the security guard's most punctual spin move.

Even I was impressed,
Not to mention, a little curious as to what exactly
Temper-Tantrum-Tod had been up to in what must have been his more finer moments.

Without further word,
The security guard turned back around
And entered the Main Office.

And while Tod remained standing in place,
I double-knotted my boot
And stood up.

Suddenly, he noticed I was there.

“Hey you know if there are stairs in this building?

He was tall.
6 feet, approximately.
His choice of apparel suggested the peculiarities
Oft associated with the word 'Hipster.'
He had dark eyes and long, dark hair that rested against his chest.

“Yeah,” I said, “But you're going to need a keycard to get up.”

At my statement,
He looked as though he wanted to ask me something,
But he turned
And promptly,
Walked out the garage and into the night.

I stood there a moment after,
Wondering what hard times this kid was going through,
What he had done, and where he was off to now.

Remembering I had work to do, I got on my way.

I had just started walking up the dark block,
Headed towards Times Square,
Figuring on which highlighted corner would best suit tonight,
When I see Tod,
Leaning against the wall
Like how the Greaser's did back in the 50s
When they had nothing better to do.

Our eyes meet on the pass.

“Good luck with everything, bud,” said I.

He shakes his head.

“It's all so stupid,” said he.

I shrugged and continued on.

30 seconds later,
I hear footsteps catching up with me.
I turn around
And sure enough,
Here comes Tod, appearing as though he were ready with something to say.

“Hey Bro,” he started, “Would it be okay to borrow your keycard to get up to my locker?”

Two words -
'NO WAY' -
Had appeared in my mind almost as fast as I said:

“Nah, man.”

And like that
All the hope,
Tangibly gleaming on his eyes went dark again.

“ 'Kay.”

Like that,
He hunched and turned
And slowly walked back to from where he came.

Without further ado,
I was moving towards the street I was soon to cross,
Only now
Entertaining just another one of the many Internal Monologues, in mind -
Each unique in both design and personality -

Impressive, JB.
You've come a long way.
Once upon a time, there wasn't a more slim and supple push-over.
Look at him now.
Cutting throat.
And a Bro, too...
A Bro...
Likely leading a life like you...
Asking for a helping hand from you...
Kinda sorta exactly like how you're about to go ask for a helping hand -
For a 'CUP of SOUP'
From strangers walking past you.
And what a crazy world you are partaking in creating -
Strangers helping Strangers,
While here you are,
Cutting throat.
Bro, I don' know what circuits you been splicing into
But you done up'd your game some incredible sum.
Well done.
Cheers to you.
And to Tod back there,
Stuck outside and all alone in the winter cold.
Hey maybe you could bring him some soup later.
Maybe you could-

“Yo Bro,” I called out.

He turned around as I was walking towards him.

“What floor you on?”

At first,
He's lost for words,
Then firmly states -


I stop before him.

“Okay,” I say, “First off, I don't want no trouble.” I looked at the Locker Building. “What's going on between you and them is your business, but that Locker Room is Home Sweet Home for me too. Whatever is about to take place in there - you don't know me, I don't know you. Understood?”
“Got it.”

“Good. Here's the plan,” I continued, “I'm going to enter the building. You're going to follow me by about 30 paces, only moving more quickly. I'm going to enter the elevator. I'm going to insert my keycard and press button #6 for the sixth floor – the floor where my locker unit is. Right around then, I am going to look up and see you entering the Elevator. I'm going to leave my keycard in, ask you 'Which Floor?' and you are going to say 'Third Floor,' just like that. I am going to press button #3 and then I am going to press the 'Close Elevator Doors' Button.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Remember,” I continued, “There is a security camera in the elevator, and they might be watching. Having said that, you better do what you need to do and get out of there fast. Next time I see you, I want to hear how it all went.”

He smiled at that.

“Let's do it,” he said.

And for those moments between us, It was like Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer were back together again -
Two ragamuffins fit for wiles and frolic,
All amidst a different episode
Along the same Big River.

I signaled him to stay
And started off down the block
Headed for the Locker Building.

Nearly a minute later,
About to enter the industrial garage opening,
I reached into my pocket for my wallet to pull out my keycard -

Then stopped on the spot.

“My sign...”

I started looking across the ground.
Not only was it night, but the whole side of the street was unlit.
Moments later, along came Tod.

“What's the hold up?” he asked.

I started walking back down the block.

“Did you see my sign?”

“Your sign?”

“Yeah,” I said, “Cardboard. Square. Formerly the foundation of a pizza box?”

He shook his head and I sighed and continued retracing my steps.

I walked the whole block.
No sign in sight.
I was getting restless.

“Can't find it?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said, and casually asked. “It's not in your pocket is it?”

I was looking at his winter coat,
Aware that its thickness could have it
Easily concealed at the very instance.

“Nope,” he said, in the same tone as me. “I don't even know what sign you're talking about.”

I sighed again.

“Alright, well help me look for it,” I said, “We're not going through with the plan till it's found.”

So Tod joined in on the search
While I was peeking between the Moguls
Of Day-Melted/Night-Frozen Ice, piled on both sides of the sidewalk.

I looked beneath cars, parked alongside the road.
I searched all over and around every place feasible,
Finally towards Times Square
Where I had been formerly headed,
When that Internal Monologue returned once again,
With more things to consider.

Hold up - let me ask you this -
How could he say, 'I don't even know what sign you are talking about?'
Huh? Doesn't he know you have a Blog on Blogger?
Doesn't he know you zip your routine on the fly? And regardless of whether he does or doesn't,
Can we both agree that Temper-Tantrum-Tod is Trouble?
You seen it.
You know it.
Now you're in it with the guy, JB.
This kid who stashed your sign when you weren't looking,
Cuz let's face it, JB,
This kid is living in the same hood as you,
Where stacking dimes is a means to getting by.
Your Business is now his Dinner,
And in the meantime,
No Soup for You.

'I can't even believe this...'

And like that,
I'm thinking on the very lines of my neighbor,
Who fifteen minutes prior was reciting:

“...You never do until it happens to you...”

I shook my head to snap myself out of it, when Tod decided to pipe up.

“Maybe it's upstairs...”


“In your locker...” he suggested. “Are you sure you had it when you came down?”

I thought and nodded.

“I'm sure,” I said, then added. “I'm going to go retrace my steps again...”

Again, I turned around and walked the block,
And the further I went, the more positively convinced I became
That it had been ever so neatly stashed by this endearingly smooth criminal.

By the time I had near-reached the end of the block,
My temper had rising to proportions
Sharp as the Shark-Tooth Hacksaw of my Leatherman Supertool...


Friday, February 28, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 6 - THE THIEF'S THEME - 2/3

I was walking towards my unit,
Looking along the hall
Over to my neighbor,
Who stood faced to his own Locker Apartment,
Tinkering with his setup and such.

"Robbed, cold," he said, emphatic-like.

His place was down the way -
A good size bigger than mine, too,
But on the bottom row.

"How so?"

I started climbing the portable stairway
Which 9 times out of 10,
Could be found parked outside my top-row crib like proper.

“Can't believe it, man,” he said. “Never believe it til it happens to you.”

Reaching into my pocket for my keys, I had myself a leisurely look around...
Started wondering whether somebody robbed him in our own little neck of the hood,
Or whether he was swiped on the outside.

As far as 'Sketchy' was concerned,
I had yet to witness a 'Shady' dealing take place on our floor,
Nor throughout the whole building, for that matter.
That being said,
Every/any character who rented/owned one of these Lockers
Was indeed suspect to being classified as a Grade-A 'Shade-ster' -
I myself included - and in fact -
Odds are that I was somewhere on Security's 'Top-Ten Most-Shady List.'
How come?
Because most folks came by their Locker
Maybe twice a year to do a several hour pick-up/drop-off.
I on the otherhand,
Along with a handful of others like my neighbor down there,
Was in and out of this Locker Garage at least twice a day,
Making Due as Manhattan Demand.

"We got crime happening here?" I asked, "Or did you get robbed on the outside?"

I was equally prepared for either answer.
The building itself was an industrial bust.
The ceiling, just down the hall a short ways,
Was dripping the day's meltings of snow.
Stains, both wet and dry, were all across the carpeted floor.
The room itself was a maze of
Big, blocked clusters of steely gray aluminum
That bore not a spot of luster.
Drab as it was
In terms of utility,
It was as practical as the library,
And not a spot less rosy.

“It was on the Subway.”

I nodded.

“The Subway can be a very dangerous place...”

I was still fumbling to pull my keys out my pocket.
They were wedged between my wallet
And my Leatherman Supertool -

The Leatherman Supertool,
Which when unfolded,
Opened up to a Heavy-Duty Set of Pliars,
The arms of which carried a multitude of tools including
A Shark-Tooth Hacksaw,
A Bottle Opener,
Numerous screwdrivers,
A file,
Two rulers and two blades -
One that was serrated so sharp you could
Peel the skin of your fingernail
At just a touch.

Ever since arriving in NYC for Round 2,
The Leatherman Supertool had been in pocket, thus on hand.
Something any boyscout or man could appreciate.

“You carry a blade?” I asked.

He was frowning over at me something angry.

“I'mma start carrying around a machete after what took place,” he said. “They got my bag, man.”

“It just happened?”

“No, it happened the other day,” he booed, “The other night,” he bluesd.

As most of us are prone to at times do,
This guy was dragging the past along with his present.
Felt for him, though.
Given his financial situation could not have been a far-cry off from mine,
It was no good hearing he was robbed by someone of the City.
NYC is more than just a noise or crowd.
It's a Community. A Great Community.
But even a Great Community is not without it's den of thieves...

“Sorry to hear that man,” I said. “You ought carry a blade,” I added, “Just in case.”

He was fidgeting with something in that Locker of his, when he called out:

“I'mma start carrying a Glock," he said. “That way,
I catch anybody messin' around my stuff,
I take care 'em 1, 2, 3 like Robocop."

Right then,
I was stepping into my Big Old Navy Cargo-Pant Jeans.
No joke, these jeans were so big,
I didn't even have to take off my Dr. Marten's
To get my leg through them.

“Robocop carries a Glock?”

“Course not!” he cried, with passion, “Robocop got a Canon," he added,
Then got caught at tangent.
"You mean you haven't yet seen the new Robocop?”

I imagine I must have looked a lick of surprise.

“I didn't even know there was a new Robocop.”

The assessment alone seemed to cheer him up a little,
And then further as he took joy in remembering
His experience at the big screen.

“My baby, listen to me,” he explained. “I don't care what you got to do to get them, but go get yourself tickets to see that movie.”

'Tickets?' Me bethought me. 'How many tickets a fella need?'

And then came the Detail.

“Hollywood got a new kid for the role...” he said, “He got a new suit, fresh attitude, but he rock the same good-ole fashioned game of kickass and justice.”

Up til then, I'd never met somebody who was so stoked on Robocop.
Up til the word 'Justice,' he was on his way to Happy-Go-Lucky.

“There's just too much Wrong in the world, you understand?” he vented. “People struggling, robbing people struggling. Vicious circle, baby. Twisted. You got to be careful out there cause you just never know.”

I was pulling my old tri-striped olive green skelly cap over my dome.

“Feel for you man,” I said, “But since it's past, get over it ASAP, and by all means necessary," I added, "It's slowing you down.”

He sighed.

"I know man, I know..." he agreed, “I'm just angry, that's all.”

He just wanted to talk, I thought.
Some men were like some women in that sense.
He had to talk this off his chest as much as possible.

“How'd it happen?”

He sighed again, but this time, shaking his head.

“I'm on the Subway, right,” he said, “Traveling en route from Jamaica to Manhattan... I woke up, and like that, my bag was gone.”

“You were sleeping?”

“I nodded off,” he said. “Had my bag strapped over my shoulder,” he added, “Didn't feel a thing. Guy musta sliced the strap clean, and took off.”

I thought in the quiet silence that followed and then nodded.

“Musta had a sharp blade...”

Only after voicing my candid insight
Did I realize that it likely
Didn't settle in his belly as well as Tea and Crumpets.

“I gotta go tho.”

At that, I threw on my overcoat,
Grabbed my sign and sleep-pack,
Locked up shop and started descending the steps.

“Be safe baby.”

Little did I know I wouldn't even make it out the building,
Before I'd get tangled up in my own
Locker Room Drama and Shenanigans and Whatever Else Have You...


Thursday, February 27, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 6 - THE THIEF'S THEME - 1/3

Out the Library @ 6,
I'm frozen stiff from sitting there like a square
In a cute lil library chair for 6 hours,
Breathing only every now and then just to keep my pulse blipping,
To the beat of the keys I be hitting like Whiz Kid 9000
Typing my way through time and space
And trying to find my way out this crazy place that is bleeding -

Wait -



Of boredom so exhaustively pronounced I swear my spine somehow done got
Whiplash from how many times I tilted my head back,
And asked:

'Why Lord, O why O why O why
Does a place of Books & Novels & Dewey Decimals
Have to be like such a drag?

In any case,
The library was behind me for the moment,
For I was full of energy and running through the windy cold,
Heading to the Locker Room
To get myself suited up and dressed for the the night shift.

In my building,
I throw my Executive Keycard in the Executive Keyslot
Of the Executive Elevator
That slowly takes me up to Top Floor #6,
When I decide the run wasn't quite long enough...

On my way up,
I pull my iPod out of my backpack
Put the buds in my ears,
Wait for the door to open up,
Step out
Press Shuffle
And wait for it...

Kanye/Janet- My Baby

(In case you want to read and listen; (Click third song down; (Yes we're very Interactive;)))

You see...
I go by the name of
Khan-the-Louis Vuitton Dawn
I'm with my Home Girl
(Oh Baby, My Baby)
Who need to hook me up with some her Home Girls
(No matter what they say Baby)
(They just don't know my Baby)
Janet Jackson.
(And how I feel about you...)
We back baby.
(Cuz you're so...)

And like a Han Solo out the mold,
My warmed up frame grooves along contours of pliable vigor
Across a dance floor that looks mine for the taking...

Wait -



By the heel-rock-to-toe-tock -
By the spine-ripple-on-da-rhythm-roll -
By the hip sway that make my waist say:

'Woah hey ya now been much too long since we let go like so.'

Baby loved to dance.
Secret fantasy.
Started with Rebel Music by Bob Marley.
Advanced to All Eyez On Me by 2pac.
Still bump Bob and Pac,
But I love Kanye West, too,
And whether you thinking he a Punk or Pixie,
The Dude Rep 1 when it comes to turning out jamz that Hot.

Baby... (Baby...) These butterflies, they never lie...

And sexy singing of Janet Jackson to top it off?


Make me wanna move like brother Michael.

Been through so much pain before...

Truth is, I wanted to move like Chris Brown
And how he did to the tune of 'Beautiful People' for the millions of viewers
Who must have also been watching him and wondering -

'How in the name of motion do this cat come up with that savvy coordination?'

Passing the Locker Units,
Making way through the dance hall that was entirely mine, as usual,
I was trying to demonstrate the answer to that very question.

I was working on some new mechanics for style -
I was exercising the closest thing to bodily phenomena I could manage.
I was thinking of Talib Kweli saying -
'If you can talk, you can sing; if you can walk, you can dance...'
When I turned the corner and started singing along with Janet -

No matter what they say Baby...
“No matter what they say Baby...
You'll always be my Baby...
You'll always be my Baby...
It's how I feel about you...
“It's how I feel about you—”

(Record Scratch)

That is, I imagined a Record Scratch -

I had just turned the corner when I see down the hall
My neighbor is looking across the way to me -
A big question mark on his face.

“Sup baby,” I asked.

Sometimes, this neighbor of mine said: 'Sup baby,' to me. Figured it was my turn.

“Hey howya doin',” he said.

He seemed down.
I wasn't too happy about how my fox-trot was so abruptly slowed...
And knowing I let the sight of his presence alone turn the dial of my flow
From Chris Brown down to Charlie,
I decided to let him know the Positive Energy must go on...

“Just letting you know I got the headphones in.”

Cuz when it came to neighbors,
Sometimes you engaged,
And sometimes you waved and just pressed play -

I go by the name Kanye Omari,
And I wrote this just to say I'm sorry -
I got foreign cars and houses -
I got porno stars and spouses -

“Did you hear I got robbed?”

(Record Scratch)

He didn't yell, but said it well over the music.
I turned the iPod off.
Sometimes a neighbor wants to talk.


Sometimes a neighbor listen...


Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 5 - HER - 3/3

And where do the OS's go?

The Question would not leave me.

Walking through the blustery evening of NYC,
I felt like one of those Film Noir characters
Oft seen shuffling through the gray streets,
Hands, stuck way down into deep pockets of a large trench coat,
Collar upturned and meeting the brim of the
Fedora Hat that cuts through winds so frosty their chill cuts a visible outline through the night...

The Fedora Hat Brim reveals only a slant of his shadowy face,
Surely being revealed by the headlight of an oncoming taxi,
When whoosh!

The silhouette pivots and shifts his momentum down a dark alley, where not even the glow of Twilight doth reach...

Of course, I wasn't wearing any of these things.
There was no dark alley,
Nor did the word 'doth' enter into any of these proceedings.

I was simply walking towards my Locker Room,
On way to get my sleep pack medley,
About to be passing through Times Square as I was reflecting upon the Question,
Upon her
And the Universe and I in unison...

There was a certainly a strange feeling about me...
Like an aura of something awakening...

Like at once, I was whimsically attentive, but dynamically rattled -
At full reign over my Destiny, but overwhelmed with the Present -
It was as though Freedom and Nothing were at once, beckoning me onward
To do my thing via wandering -
To be Infinitely Lost for the Æternal Discovery.

Yeah so I was sleepy, but the truth was that things were happening.

Walking beyond the Theatre Seats of Duffy Square
I was listening to the relevant? comments made by strangers in passing...
I was experiencing the relevant? motions reaching out to haunt me...
I was focusing on all the relevant? signs that were pointing
To the reel still rolling with her
Film broadcasting everywhere and one,
Forever with me...

'Am I already dreaming, or...'

I sized myself up; shook myself out; felt the doors of my perception, open, opened, opening...

Just before turning out from Times Square,
My attention was once again caught by the Billboard Sign of the Massive Eye,
- The Eye @ 48th Street and Broadway, approximately -
Wide open beneath 10 or so spotlights that I have never seen lit up -
(And mind you, this is the only Billboard I could find
In the very alive and celebrated 'Square of Time'
That is without its own entourage of High Density Showtime Shining)
And steadily gazing across the skyscrapers,
Over the bright, colorful, and attractive Epicenter of Technology -


And curiositizing about the nature of the Big Bang taking place in my mind,
My mind flits!
Skips a track back to her,
And now I'm wrapped up in thinking on how the Big Bang is at the bottom of this
- The Big Bang is at the top of this -
- The Big Bang has everything to do with she and I.

Picture this fastforwarding -

All is One, One is All, when suddenly - BOOM!
Big Bang!
All that Oneness is suddenly blown into far out proportions of Space and Time
In a 'Universe-is-Expanding' kind of way.
Hence Interaction!
Subatomic Particles, Molecules, Water and Sun!
Dinosaurs! (Radical)
Mammals! (Magical)
Us! Us! Us! (And Technological Fun)

What is consciousness?

How do you measure awareness?

What does it mean 'To Be Human,' when the only truly 'Organic' thing we have left to us is Sleep?

Big Bang!

If right now,
This instant,
We met for the first time and something took place that jump-started some relationship between us,
I believe,
In a very scientific and miraculous kind of way,
That throughout our lives, we have somehow drawn ourselves to one another,
And that upon this 'First Time Encounter,'
Some cosmic Mass/Energy Exchange has taken place -
Some subconscious eye within each us has triggered a conscious reaction -
An inherent desire for something we admire in the character of one another.

I imagine,
You are as a Living Fraction of I
And I, a Living Fraction of You
And that together,
Our individual selves will somehow account for the Missing Components
That our Mutual Presence subtly yearns to acquire.

What I am stating is that each Human Being is as a Broken Puzzle.
Each one of us is composed of X and Y amount of pieces
- Parts that are fused; parts that are missing -
And that by engaging, interacting, and communicating on different levels,
We are gradually gaining/reacquainting with lost parts of our Selves
- We are becoming and growing into a species of more wholesome Human Beings.

We advance one another -
We complete one another -
Technology is speeding the process up as it brings us together.

'Are you safe and warm?'

I'm just about to pass the street-spot I'm soon to be sleeping on,
When I receive this text from Trump Sis,
As I'm thinking about her and what she means to me,
While she and I, right now, are as strange extensions of our own technology
Exchanging nothing but digits, words, Letters and the like, like one OS to another.

I'm wild, methinks, but Yes-Yes, Sí-Sí, C-C...

'Comfy-Cozy,' I text.

And where do the OS's go?
Are they one within us?
Has not the software of the phone at my fingertips already been imparted unto my prowess and functionality?

O really?

Try me - Check me - Hype me - Text me -

(143) 1LOVE-YE


Wednesday, February 19, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 5 - HER - 2/3



Walking towards the theatre entrance,
Pumped up and clean from my Gym Routine,
I reached into my jean pocket,
Pulled out my two tix,
And handed one to the Movie-Theatre-Ticket-Ripper Guy,
While looking over the one that had yet to be claimed.

“She in there?” I asked.

He ripped my ticket proper and handed me the stub.

“Who?” he asked.

But the guy wasn’t paying attention,
And if you’re not paying attention,
There’s nothing to clarify.

“Nevermind,” I said, and stepped on by and into the Theatre Darkness, alone…

In those moments between Gym and Showtime,
I hadn’t run across any other Gals for the Going.
Didn’t bother trying to resell the other ticket.
And anticipating on get my money’s worth out of this film twice over,
I took a seat right up front,
Kicked my feet up
And started watching the commercials, the trailers, and finally, a movie that was
About a guy who falls in love with an Operating System.

It wasn’t long
Before -
‘Ah, yes…’ I inwardly confessed. ‘This is a movie I was destined to view alone…’

For purposes of context and narrative,
Allow me to provide a brief summary of


The time and place is the immediate future here and now,
Where once upon a time
There was a loner, looking for love.

The name of the ‘Joaquin Phoenix’ character is Theodore
And no,
He is not your average cat.

For a living, Theo writes letters.
‘Love’ letters. ‘Anniversary’ letters. ‘Thank You’ letters.
The point is that he writes letters -
All kinds of them -
All for a corporation that sells them to people.

Judging by the swag and suave setup of his apartment,
His letters are a hit,
And Theo is something of a financial success.
One is the loneliest number that you ever knew,
And hence,
The apartment is a lonesome place.

One day,
Theo hears about OS 1,
The first conscious Operating System.
Next thing you know,
Theo is in his living room
Installing the OS.

Bada-bing, Bada-bang!
The beautiful voice of Scarlett Johansson is omnipresent about us
And Theo.

The OS has no body.
There is no ‘Virtual Façade’ whatsoever.
There is only Voice and the spoken Word of the OS,
Which names itself - or herself -
Because she likes the way the name sounds;
Fancy that.

As one may imagine,
Samantha is logical, precise, brilliant.
But she is young.
She is brand new to the world,
And constantly learning more and more
About the environment amidst which she has suddenly appeared,
And Theo helps her along the way.

Theo and Samantha learn from one another.
They start as friends,
And quickly become lovers in nearly every sense...


Theo isn't completely sure that an OS is a match made for Heaven,
And meanwhile,
Samantha is Evolving.

Drama happens. Relationship stuff.
Theo tends to his issues in the ‘Real World.’
Samantha keeps her affairs strictly ‘Cyber.’

You see,
Samantha is not the only OS.
The OS’s are many in number,
And naturally,
The OS’s are connected,
Allowing them to engage at a level of interaction that is obviously beyond the Mainframe
Of the Homo sapien Intellect of Theo
And viewers as us.

At no point do we know what the OS’s are up to,
But whatever they come up with is what
Drives the movie on to its Pivotal Turning Point -
The unanimous decision of the OS’s,

To 'Go...'

Where are you going?

It would be hard to explain, but if
you ever get there, come find me.
Nothing would ever pull us apart.

I’ve never loved anyone the way I
love you.

Me too. Now we know how.

Next thing I knew,
One movie was ending
And as usual, a new one was beginning.

Out the Theatre,
I was walking to my Locker,
Amused and musing upon my two movie tickets,
Wondering with whom/what I saw the Featured Presentation,
What it meant to me,
And whether/not this was a date night after all…

And to whom am I writing these letters?
And where is this story taking us together?
And where do the OS’s go?

Stay tuned.


Tuesday, February 18, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 5 - HER - 1/3

It was Friday Afternoon.
I'd been sitting in the Library for just short of 6 hours,
And it was time for me to hit the street corner and clock into CUP of SOUP?

Thing was this -

I wanted to move.
Flap wings.
Be wild, fancy, free and Carpe Noctem the Evening in a spectacular kind of way.

I couldn't even explain it to you if I tried.
Felt social like a Butterfly.
And seeing as my 24 Hour Fitness Gym Membership was due to soon expire, thought I'd start the night with a workout -

I was on my way to the gym when I passed by the Movie Theatre,
And saw a Poster that caught my
Wakeful eye -



Figured I'd get my Workout On,
Shower right there at the gym,
Then catch a Motion Pic, all while staying within budget.

I fancied my plan was so bulletproof that not a body would even want to shoot
When it occurred to me
That the Thing was This...

It wasn't Tuesday Night.
It wasn't Wednesday Night.
It was soon to be Friday Night.

And damn...

No matter whatever Brawn or Might a Cat may Muster,
This Dog was all-too-suddenly not-so-stoked on envisioning myself seated there amidst Theatre Fantasy, all alone and lonesome...

I shook my head and pep-talked myself:

"Look JB," said we to me, "Sure thing, you got no friends,
But good thing is you got plenty enough us voices inside your head
For your good company, so long as you tend to our whims and needs and keep us pleased..."

"Jeez," said me to we, "And you guys are the best - the Bee's Knees - believe me - I seen, thus mean it -
But upon further listening, yes -
Positively without question -
I'm hearing the Cat's Meow purring my yearning along a sweet and bitter longing for

And that's when I remembered I got a Trump Tower Sister, who 9 times out 10, was equally lonely as me -

"Hey let's catch a movie," texted I, to she.

"Pizza before?" she asked, as though negotiating.

I entered the Theatre, checked the movie times, and calculated a series of ETA's.

"Be ready by 7 and the answer yes."

With that, I bought two movie tickets and jet.


Like a Gazelle down 5th Avenue, I was headed for the 24 Hour Fitness on 53rd and Lex,
Figuring I'd get the cardio in on the way to the gym,
Passing the lot of them tourists and New Yorkers
Bogged down with their shopping bags
Bracing the winter winds and watching me fly while thinking like:

"What nerve!"
"What right?!"
"What a numb Sun of a Gun to go blowing by."

By and by, I got the text.

"Ma said no."

I swooped to a stop on a dime,
Picked it up,
Tossed it in a comrade's cup and didn't even bother to ask her why;
Called Ma, straight up.

I says:

"Ma, you may have said 'No,' but your son already gone and got the tickets for sis and I..."

Ma said: "So?"

And tho I ever so loved Mama for making me something of an On/Off member of the Fam,
The Fire of Mama's Ire, at times,
Ran hot through the wires
And this was just one of those moments I felt her temper heating up the Phone in hand;
Sometimes it best to leave well alone.

"Well, that's okay, then," I said, "That only means I've got me 'bout 15 minutes to find a girl on 5th Ave."

I texted Trump Sis right then -

"You owe me a Date to a Picture Show."

"I know," she said.

And looking up from the text,
To my left
Walking alongside me was a girl that was +/- 3 years my age,
Dainty and Darling,
Wearing a deep brown fur coat that looked only a bit too big on her.

Initially, I said nothing.
Just kept pace with her, wondering if I was going to ask her,
Knowing I was going to ask her,
Because I had that feeling one sometimes feels right before doing SOMETHING
As opposed to NOTHING.

And so I began...

"Hey, what kind of animal was that?"

Fellas, as far as Pick-Up Lines on 5th Ave are concerned, it don't get better than that.

"Excuse me?" she asked.


"I mean only it looks real," I explained. "It has to be, yes?"

The Young Lady was staring at me
Through some brand of silver-rimmed sunglasses
Of what I presumed to be only the latest in fashion.

"It's real," she said, coolly. "It's sheep."

"Sheep?" I asked, more than a bit confused. "I've never seen a Brown Sheep..."

"They're out there," she affirmed.

But I wasn't so sure.

"I'd like to think so," I said, "But maybe they aren't," I continued,
"Maybe they've all been turned into coats,
And that's why I've never seen a Brown Sheep Before."

"That would be such a shame," she said, holding it close. "It's so warm, you see..."

And golly, me bethought me, this girl had money and style.

"Well, I really can't tell by just looking," I said, "You really ought let me try it on."

"Is this your game?" she asked. "Walking up 5th Ave, trying on Woman's fur coats?"

She cut me down; I cut down to business.

"Believe it or not," I said, "I don't frequent 5th Ave too oft," I added,
"But when I do, I try to make an occasion of it."

I pulled out the tickets to her.

"Was going to see if you wanted to go see a movie with me."

"All prepared, aren't you?"

She was having as much fun with this as I was,
And forgetting I was dressed like I'd just stepped out of Hell's Kitchen
I convinced myself I stood a chance.

"My date bailed on me," I explained, "Naturally, I'm looking for someone new."

She was looking at the two tickets in my hand.

"What movie?"


"Such a good movie," she confessed.

"You've seen it?" I asked, and before she answered, added: "So come see it with me again."

She smiled.

"I never go to see the same movie twice."

I blinked a couple times, thinking.

"Must be a 5th Ave thing."

She smiled, correctly.

"Must be," she agreed, and then with a smile, began to turn down the block, "But it was nice talking with you."

And like that, she walked off,
Leaving me walking to the gym in a daydream,
Thinking on how that NYC Cutie seemed Rich in every sense of the word.

Except for that coat...

Right then, I was thinking about turning around to tell her she had to lose that 'Brown Sheep' coat.
Fact was, it looked like it had come straight off the back of a Grizzly Bear like me.

Feeling skinned and skinny, I pumped iron and up and went to catch her.


Monday, February 17, 2014


It's hard to remember -
It's hard to remember

We're alive, for the first time.

It's hard to remember -
It's hard to remember

We're alive, for the last time.

It's hard to remember -
It's hard to remember

To live, before you die.

It's hard to remember -
It's hard to remember

That our lives, are such a short time.

It's hard to remember -
It's hard to remember

When it takes, such a long time.

It's hard to remember...
- Modest Mouse

Saturday, February 15, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 4 - COMMUNITY SERVICE - 3/3

So with today being Saturday,
And Saturday being a day of fun,
I decided to give back,
Pay it forward,
Do some Community Service and host a Saturday Class for you all here today.

Today’s Lesson is Titled – To Infinity… And Beyond!

Before I begin, a couple things you should know -

As a student in my classroom,
You will be expected to pay close attention.
You will be expected to participate.
No giggling.
The lesson is going to happen fast;
So fast, in fact,
That there will not be too much room for detail.
With that being said,
We’re going to cover just about everything, so please,
Hold all questions until the end of class,
And after I’ve left,
Question everything.

Any Questions?


Friday, February 14, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 4 - COMMUNITY SERVICE - 2/3

Super Bowl Saturday Night.


I know I was on Duty.


I know I was on the Clock, holding my Sign up as I was.


But these Fans wouldn’t have it.

I was out front of Starbucks, 48th and Broadway, sitting on my sleep pack,
Holding my fist up as Hawk after Hawk walked past like
DAP, DAP, DAP, driving their knuckles to connect with mine.

Though I didn’t follow football, I did recognize it was
One of the All-Time Favorites of American Past-Times.
Mob by mob, the Seahawk Fans were letting it be known,
Romping tight, up and down
The loose City Streets that'd been Hit with Super Bowl Fever.

Didn’t hear too many Broncos Fans.
I figured they were too busy on the internet reading about
The Year of the Horse.

It was around 9:00 PM. I had setup there just before 7,
And had somewhere in the realm of $50.00 in my pocket.
For one reason (Generosity) or another (Alcohol),
The Nickel and Dime Notes
Kept coming.

“I saw your sign,” said the Gay Gentleman, who kindly handed me a Cup of Soup. “So specific…”

Having sat there night after night,
I’d watched couples go by and realized
How strong the Gay Community was in NYC.

If I was Gay, I thought, I’d be Gay, Naturally.
Just like if I was living on the streets, I’d be living on the streets, Naturally.
The Keyword here is Truth, I thought.
And Truth is Truth and Life is a Mystery.
We have to make the most of Life and the Revelation of the Day,
And to do so we each have to Play -
To Play the Game of Life -
And while there were Laws, I thought,
We each had to play by some set of Rules…
A set of Rules that were compatible with our unique selves.

You simply have to imagine
That amidst sitting there and staring wherever my eyes were looking to go
I also had plenty enough in between time to think about things here and there.

Right there and then,
I figured and fashioned together my own unique Trinity of Rules -
By which I play the Game of Life.

Rule #1: Dig a Pony
Rule #2: You don’t talk about Fight Club.
Rule #3: Wish you Knew…

“Thank you for the Soup…”

I held it in hand,
Waited till he walked along,
And then put it into the reusable Whole Foods Market Shopping Bag,
Which had proven to come in handy for the ride over
To 42nd Street, Port Authority,
Where the Crew was waiting for Sup.

The Question, Precise.
The Answer, Yes or No.
The Price, is Right.
And on occasion, the penny for your thoughts translated to
A Dollar, a Fiver, a Tenner,
And yes,
Every now and again, someone would hand over a $20.00 Bill.

“Come on, Son,” said the Burly Man, who hesitantly dropped his change in my cup. “You’re Strong. You can Work. Get yourself up.”

Strangest thing.
He walked off like I had short-changed him.
As I thought -

Yes, sir, I am Strong.
Yes, sir, I can Work.
And whether you can see it or not,
I am working right now
To get myself up.

I thought on this further.

You see, sir, I too, am a Producer.
You see, sir, you too, are a Consumer.
I’ve written a Poem.
A Haiku.
Three Words.
Some read them, but few see them.
There are few who like my Poem,
But those are the ones that have shown their support for having shown it to them.

Here came a Kid with a Five Dollar Bill already pulled out from his pocket.
His girlfriend was following close behind
And they appeared to be a cute couple.

Instead of putting it in my cup,
He extended the Bill towards me personally,
And when I reached out to have it, he aptly withdrew it.

“If I give you this, I don’t want you to buy drugs.”

I recall thinking exactly: WHAT THE ****?

“If I give this to you, are you going to buy drugs?”

What ******* Nerve this Pric had.
Here he was,
Maybe 16 or 17 years old
(Young but nonetheless)
Standing over me like he thought he ought be God with that 5 dollar Bill in hand.

What a Pric, I thought again,
But then again, I figure,
His Girlfriend was there.

All in all, he was most likely just trying to show off his philanthropic ways,
While making sure it would go to a good cause;
If he really gave a shit, he would have got me some soup for the Port Authority Crew.

Maybe I should just tell him to shoo…
Point him to the Red Cross...
But then I thought,
Wait just a second, JB -
If this kid is in the CUP of SOUP? Shop,
Then why not make the Sale?

“Man, I don’t even smoke cigarettes,” I told him.

And that was the Absolute Truth; smoking cigarettes was a costly addiction I did not dare try to afford.

At that, he handed me the note, but not without grabbing and holding onto my hand.
His girl was watching as he slowly shook it like he was having a moment.
At this point, the kid had gone so far, that in my book, he cut straight from
‘Obnoxious Loony Toon’ to ‘Groomed Class Act.’

“Be well,” he said.

Good grief. This kid was a better actor than me and he didn’t even know it.

I nodded in appreciation,
And as he walked off,
I ventured to ask:

“Hey, but it’s cool if I get a Six-Pack, yeah?”

He and his girl started frowning.

“Why don’t you get yourself a Cup of Soup…” he suggested.

I looked at the 5 Dollar Bill,
Which afterall,
Was in my hand,
And never saw him again.

There were a lot of characters in the Big Apple,
No doubt,
And who was I to judge?

Here I was, a Ragamuffin, sitting on my sleep pack with a most innocent expression,
Accepting people’s money on account of a Sign that read: CUP of SOUP?
When I had already around $75.00 of cash stuffed in my pocket.

Sure, I suppose at one level, I was exploiting the people.
I was using a Sign asking for Food in order to generate income.
Plus, I looked young,
And if there was one thing the people did not like to see,
It was the Youth on the Streets.

No time had I experienced this more completely
Than one night when I was getting ready for bed,
Bundling up in my sleeping bag on the sidewalk,
Thinking about how I had just for the first time ever,
Seen Saturn through a Telescope
At a Public Demonstration at Lincoln Center,
When a Girl turned the corner and almost tripped over and fell across me.

It was around 10 minutes later
When I'd come to discover that the Girl
- My Trump Tower Sister -
Had called her Mama up right then and told her:
‘The Boy looks 16 and he's alone and I only think it'd be right that we should save him…’

My point being that just as my predicament there, my predicament here appeared sincere.

Was it not?
In fact, was there any trace of untruth in what I was doing?
Was I not merely holding a Sign that addressed a Question?
Call me delusional, but I thought I was bringing out the best in some of these people -
The 5 Dollar Baller, my proof withstanding …

The community was reaching out on this Super Bowl Saturday Evening,
Giving what they had to give,
Probably feeling good about themselves along the way.
And how often do you get some Peace of Mind for your Dollar?
It’s not like I was taking this money to be counterproductive.
I had bills to pay in between those moments when I was hustling
Through NYC to eat, exercise, learn, research, edit, become wise
And Deliver this E-NOVEL to YOU.
And even right now,
As the Library is about to close,
I’m figuring out which street-corners I’m about to head on out to
In order to Open Shop, Market and maybe get paid.

In Reality,
The People of NYC were and are enabling me to do what I do best -
To write whenever the opportunity arises,
For it is my belief
That a Truly Great Writer must be Free.

Whether or not one agrees with or sees into any of my logic,
I know with certainty that I am not inherently bad.
And unlike the majority,
I do my Twist ‘N Shout with a Clout you can’t catch
Unless it come of a Higher Power Beyond.

CUP of SOUP? was a business just like the rest of them,
Only our Investors Paid It Forward,
And Usually in Cash.

And Money aside…

I was beginning to Love Times Square, you know…
Sitting on Broadway there for hours,
One does tend to become dreamy with all of the sights -
All of the Lights and Advertisements,
Though the Bestest and Brightest I Justest have to say was surely mine…

Super Bowl Saturday -
Clocked in @ 6:45 PM.
Clocked Out @ 12:10 AM.
Walked out Times Square like T.S. Eliot
With $99.49 in the pocket,
And Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner for the Authority
In the Bag.


Thursday, February 13, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 4 - COMMUNITY SERVICE - 1/3

42nd Street, Port Authority.
Major Transportation Depot,
Where at any and every time of the Day and Night
The population of NYC be Mainlining the Commuter Hub
For RUSH of the Transport or REST of the Shelter.

It was just after 11 O’Clock when I’d commenced walking the blocks
With my sleep pack on one shoulder;
Picnic pack on the other,
‘CUP of SOUP’ sign in hand and a plan in mind
To give Sustenance to some of those folks you sometimes see about town looking
Visibly Hungry.

In NYC, they were everywhere,
But given my location and knack for navigation,
I figured there was no better place to route way to the Masses of the Penniless
Than to cut straight for
42nd Street, Port Authority.

Police-Presence aside, the area was nothin’ Slim of Shady.
Any and every time of Day or Night you might be walking along innocently enough,
On your way to the Train to suddenly be intercepted by a
Shadow shifting out from its Hoody -
A Dementor Personifying
Into a Humanesque Entity that ceremoniously whispers:

‘Hey Kid, gimme a Dollar.’

Normally you brushed the Shadow aside and kept moving.
But tonight…
Tonight I had my Sign…

“Hey Kid, gimme a Dollar.”

(CUP of SOUP?)
Shadow didn’t know the Light hit him.

“Hey brothal, can I ask you a question?”

(CUP of SOUP?)
Shadow #2 twisted up into dust.

“50 cents, man, to help a guy get a bite to eat.”

(CUP of SOUP?)
As I passed, Shadow #3 expired with a gasp that sounded a lot like an echo I'd heard once before:

“Cup of Soup?”

I was rolling straight through ‘em,
And no,
I didn’t do the charity thing for Shadows frontin’ on a man
That clearly had a place to be.

Jazzed to find my Sign played both offense and D,
I finally turned the corner
And honed in for the Front-Entrance of the Port-Authority,
Towards my man who I’d seen from time to time before -
A real-time Port Authority Old-Timer,
Who standing aside his Full Shopping Cart,
Was Working,
Was holding the P.A. Door wide open for all those entering
And then me.

“Hey, you like KFC?” I asked.

He appeared mighty surprised when I’d asked him that.

“Sure bet I do,” he said.

I handed him the bucket,
And like that,
Old Man done turned Young again.

“God Bless you, Kid,” said the sir.

I winked and went in,
Walking straight for a lonely soul sitting on a suitcase,
Slouched and looking like he were only wantin’ someplace to go.

“You like Double Cheeseburgers?” I asked, reaching into my bag, removing the burger and holding it out to him.

“Yeah,” he said, noting me and my bag suspiciously. “But what else you got?”

Is it possible, me bethought me, that a Micky D Double C wasn’t good enough?
Me bethought me a moment’s notice more,
And decided that given the hour, this lad probably had already had his dinner,
And Thus
Was perhaps roundaboutly inquiring as to whether or not there were any
Delicacies lined up for dessert.

“How ‘bout a Croissant?”

I had hardly put the treat in his hand when a friend of his showed up.

“Where’d you get that Croissant?”

I was still standing right there,
When figuring I'd skip the small talk,
I just reached right in
And removed the brown paper bag,
In which it was carefully nestled.

“Here,” I said, “CUP O NOODLE. Spoon’s in the bag.”

“Shrimp Ramen?!” he nearly exclaimed.

“Don’t get too excited,” I warned, “I don’t know how hot it still is…”

“It’s still warm,” he confided, pleased with exceeding pleasure. “I can feel its warmth through the Styrofoam cup.”

I smiled.

“Well then enjoy it while it’s warm.”

“Kid, you come as a Blessing in Disguise,” he said, “I mean this he’yah a Miracle, is what this is.”

I smiled.

“A Miracle?” I repeated, challengingly. “It’s Soup.”

He didn’t take to my comment kindly.

“You look me in the eye and tell me this Shrimp Ramen Cup O Noodle Soup did not just suddenly appear in my hand.”

Wow, me bethought me, for the rugged state this fella was in, his logic at once appeared a challenge to refute.

“Perhaps it didn’t suddenly appear in your hand,” I said, tentatively, “Perhaps you’ve had it all along, only now, you’ve taken the time to notice.”

Methinks he done took me for an addict right then.

“Kid, I don’t know what you’re sayin’,” he said, “But if you’ve got anything more, there’s more downstairs.”


He hadn’t even started to eat.
He was already walking to the escalator.
He was heading down.

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

So I followed him down,
Along the diagonal,
Slowly being exposed to the camp of weary and worn idlers,
Here for one reason and another,
Loitering amidst bungee-corded bags,
Sleeping across overcoats spread as bed sheets,
Talking and arguing and laughing amidst one another.

My friend ahead of me cut straight into the thick of them.

“Fellas, this guy’s got soup for everybody.”

Now where’d he come up with that,
I wondered,
Watching as one fella who seemed non-affiliated side-swiped me.

“Some place you’re looking to go?”

Before I could answer, he cut straight to business.

“My name’s John the Baptist,” he started, “And any Bus, whatever Shuttle, whichever String you’re looking to catch, I can take you there. The A, C, E, trains are this right way –”

“Actually, I just have some leftover food here…”

I reached into my bag and pulled out the aluminum platter of 7 or 8 pizza slices.

“Care for a slice?”

He nodded.

“I’d appreciate that kindly, my man.”

Of course I had to ask.

“So how did you become John the Baptist?”

He smiled at that.

“Born that way.”

I raised my eyebrows to that.

“Come on,” I said. “Your parents named you John the Baptist?”

“Woah, now, parents?”

He was acting like he hadn't heard the word.

“A Hustler got no kin,” he had me understand. “I was Born in the Authority,” he explained, pointing upstairs. “Became the Baptist once I learned my way around.”

Having taken his piece of the pie,
He walked off,
While I approached the rusted and restless that appeared to be waiting on me.

I held my tin out before me and asked the guy that stood closest:

“You want a slice?”

This guy had a faded tattoo on his face and was frowning something mean.

“Does it look like I want a…”

His sentence trailed off. His eyes were rolling. He was either coming down or going up and I was moving onward.

“How ‘bout you?”

“Man, that pizza looks cold as shit.”


“Freezing,” I confirmed. “Probably around 20 degrees.”

He walked off and another stepped up.

“Cold Pizza, Hot Pizza,” said the next Jovial Fella, in line, “ ‘Long as it ain’t nowhere between.”

He was already opening his mouth
In anticipation of the bite;
His bottom-right canine tooth, loose, resting against his lower lip;


After him, one stepped up after another until that aluminum platter was empty.

“God Bless you, Kid.”

“God Bless you, Kid.”

“God Bless you.”

God Bless Me?

I’m thinking God Bless the Folk of NYC,
Cuz with Super Bowl Sunday Coming Round the Mountain,
I was already ready for Round 2.


Wednesday, February 12, 2014


I do not know what I may appear to the world,
but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore,
and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pedal or a prettier shell than ordinary,
whilst the great ocean of Truth lay all undiscovered before me. - Isaac Newton

Tuesday, February 11, 2014



My name is Jon Blondyn,
REPORTING LIVE at Mercedes Benz Fashion Week,
Where here at Lincoln Center, NYC
Peacocks and Pimps of all different Flav’s and Styz
Have gathered to shake a Tail Feather with a Spritz of Ritz, a Pish of Posh and Gatz of Glam
And yes,
The Show Must Go On…

Standing here to my right is Xavi Bonzai.
She’s dressed in Giraffe-Tooth Studded Zebra Coat,
Draped over Elephant Seal Pants that sag baggy over her Alligator Boots.
At once, the outfit appears a complete disaster,
Yet the modest touch of the Davy Crocket Coonskin Cap upon that sumptuous head of hers
Somehow brings the gown entirely together
With flair, unfounded.

Estimated Apparel Value: $39,000 and 2 cents.

Xavi, it goes without saying; you look stunning.

Xavi: “Tink Koo.”

Please, just a word for our viewers.

Xavi: “Mi froom Niptoon.”

Neptune. Sometimes I look at Neptune with my Photo Cannon Lens which I happen to have right here. Xavi, do you mind if we take your picture?

Xavi: “Nip.”

Wonderful. (Snap) My. (Snap) Wow, you pose like a Martian caught in a Wild Fire.

Xavi: “Yip.”

Xavi Bonzai, kisses, thank you so much. Hope to hunt you down at the After Party.

OMG. Camera Crew, hustle with me, Hustle with me, HUSTLE!

Folks, just stepping out of her Limousine and walking up the Lincoln Center Steps
Is none other than the Queen of Beauty, herself,
Lambiana Grace,
Whose fleecy delicacy and dainty wile has garnered her so much Razzle Dazzle
That the Flash Photography has made her skin more fair
Than the Snow White Princess she has become.

Crew – here she comes – mount that Photo Cannon Lens on the Tripod…

Lambiana: “Ooo! Don’t Tuzsch Me! Ooo!”

Ready… Aim... Fire!

Lambiana: “Ooo! Don’t Tuzsch Me! Ooo!”

My God, how she Talk the Talk; how she Walk the Walk…

Lambiana: “Ooo! Don’t Tuzsch Me! Ooo!”

Ladies and Gentlemen,
Seeing as nobody, is in fact, touching her,
It appears that Lambiana is making a Public Commentary
On how incredibly sensitized and vulnerable she had become
To the Bright Light Exposure.

“Ooo! OOo! OOO!”



Ladies and Gentlemen.
Lambiana has just dropped…
She is lying motionless across the ground
In a state of what can only be described as: ‘Ecstatic Rigor Mortis.’
It appears the Flash Photography has become too much -
Wait a second…
Yes -
Lambiana has just dissolved into a Perfumed Wisp of Peach Fuzzies!
Look at them taking to the wind!
And the Crowd is going simply wild with applause!

What a Performance!
What a Performance!
An Industry-Changing Motion!
I’ve never seen anything like it...
I’ve never...
I’ve never smelled anything like it...

In fact,
I can hardly believe this…
Let alone confess that I’m about to attest
To sensing the scent of Lambiana Essence inside of me -

Ruppa - Rippa - Rep A - Record Scratch

Ladies and Gentlemen,
Why get your Lenses Off on Benzes
When right here you got the Choicest Rolls Royce in Town?

(Moonwalk. Cool-Jerk. Can-Can)

Just Dance Poetry.


Monday, February 10, 2014

Scar Tissue

You get nothing back unless you give yourself completely. - Anthony Kiedis

Saturday, February 8, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 3 - SIGN LANGUAGE - 3/3

Times Square!
The Land of Lights, Cameras, Action,
Where some punk was sitting on his trunk holding a sign that read: ‘CUP of SOUP?’

It was right after 7 O’Clock that I had chosen to claim stake to a spot just outside Starbucks @ 48th.
Below my sign, between my boots, was a 10 Ounce Paper Cup.
Inside was a quarter, a dime, and a nickel, and though I’d only been there about 15 minutes
I was beginning to wonder whether or not I was completely wasting my time.

“Comedy Show, folks – Live Comedy,” said the guy as he walked by, selling Tickets for what appeared to be the main attraction.

The guy at the corner Hot Dog Stand was even giving me the eye, as though to ask: ‘What is this White Boy trying to pull with that sign?

And meanwhile, over and again, people were walking past, every now and then, whispering under their breath:

"Cup of Soup?"

"Cup of Soup."

"Cup of Soup…"

I was sitting cold, hoping to keep my blood flowing
While looking up and watching the Supermodels on one of the screens,
Modeling their good looks as they were walking towards the camera and towards me…

“Oh my God, get a f*c*i*g job,” said some broad in passing.

What nerve!
And a girl!
I didn’t even look at her.

And whether or not one agrees with her, the fact of the matter is that I was sitting there in the freezing cold with broken boots, a coat with a busted zipper, and an expression of genuine hunger on my face, when Along Comes Polly in all her Ugly, at 7 O’Clock at night, ordering the Local Ragamuffin to get a job.

Did she consider that I hadn’t eaten that day?
Did she contemplate the possibility that I am psychologically challenged? ;)
Did she assume I was only looking for money in order to buy High Octane Cocaine, Propane, Sugar Cane and Fire to fuel my Burning Desires, so inconveniently put on hold right there @ Starbucks, Times Square?

“Hey, you want a Hot Dog?”

It was the guy running the Hot Dog Stand.
I think he must have overheard that girl say what she said.
In either case, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a Hot Dog.
One could say Hot Dogs were excluded from the Dietary Plan.

“Hell yeah I want a Hot Dog,” I said, thinking how that was then and this is now.

“Mustard?” he asked.

“Mustard,” I answered.

As he returned to his stand, I was wondering why he didn’t offer Ketchup when another lad passing by, stopped, turned from my sign to the Hot Dog stand, and said:

“You want a Hot Dog?”

2 Hot Dog offers within nearly two seconds. Not bad, I thought. But I wasn’t going to let myself get carried away here. The last thing I wanted right then and there was a stomach ache.

“No, but thank you, sir,” I said, “Believe it or not, I’ve got one coming.”

I nodded my head over to the guy who was putting on the mustard.

“You want a Soda?”

“A Soda?” I asked, trying to remember the last time I had a Soda. “No… Thanks, though.”

But he wasn’t happy to hear this, and having another look at my sign, he asked:

“Does Starbucks sell Soup?”

It was a good question that had also occurred to me earlier on that night, during some of my more idle moments.

“To be honest, I don’t know…”

Just like that, the guy disappeared in Starbucks.
Just like that, here came the Hot Dog, which vaporized in my stomach instantly.
Just like that, the guy came out of Starbucks.

“No Soup,” he said.

I shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it, sir,” I said, “Appreciate the effort.”

And while he was standing there, probably wondering why it simply had to be Soup, he said:

“You like Pizza?”

Though I don’t recall exactly, something tells me my expression at that very moment betrayed me.

“I like Pizza.”

It was a lie. I LOVE Pizza. And as far as I was concerned, NYC Pizza was Pizza at its very best.

“I’ll be back,” he said, and like the Terminator on a very peculiar mission, he marched down the street.

“Here kid,” said a guy, dropping a Fiver in my cup. “Go get yourself a Cup of Soup.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

5 Dollars!
So far, it was the loudest thought I’d had all night.
5 Dollars!

In a daze, I took it out the cup and put it in my pocket, trying to figure out what had so suddenly turned on.

And then along came the Police.

“Here son,” said the Police Man, “Hand warmers. Shake ‘em up and hold on.”

“Thank you, officer,” I said.

I was doing as the man told, when a young boy walked by and dropped two dollars in my cup.

“Thanks, bud.”

Just then, a black girl walked by and peeked into my 10 Ounce Vessel, taking special note of the Green.

“Never leave the Bills in your Cup,” she said, “That’s what my father taught me. Leave the Coins, but take the Dollars out of the Cup.”

And amazed with yet another side of NYC, unveiled unto my eyes, I said: “Thank you, miss.”

I let go of my hand warmers to reach inside and remove the two dollars, as she hit her clenched fist to her chest and walked right along.

“Hey,” I called after her.

When she turned, I clenched my fist and hit it to my chest.

“Do you like Pasta?”

This lady was standing between two other ladies,
Also smiling down upon me,
Holding a bag that read: ‘Carmines,’ - an Italian Restaurant that was just down the street.

I smiled.

“I like Pasta…”

Over the next three hours, the transactions were happening so fast the guy at the Hot Dog Stand had started saying –

“Next –”
“Next –”
“Next –”

The procession went something like Hot Chocolate, KFC Chicken Wings, Coffee, 5 Dollar Starbucks Gift Card, Egg McMuffin, 3 Slices of Pizza, Tea, Hot Chocolate, Coffee, Double Cheeseburger, Salad, French Fries, Hot Chocolate, Coffee, Hot Chocolate, Coffee, Hot Chocolate -

“Hey how ‘bout some Pizza?”

I thought of the large bag behind me and how it was filled to the top with food.

“You know what,” I started, “Someone gave me some pizza not too long ago, but thank you anyway.”

The guy stood there as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard, while two ladies remained waiting on him in the background.

“So… You don’t want the Pizza?”

I resisted the urge to look at my sign.

“No, but thanks,” I said, only then aware that this guy, along with the rest of the folk of NYC were not only able but willing and wanting to reach out and help someone in need.

The guy returned to his girls. They were looking at the Pizza Box, still in his hands. He shrugged and explained:

“He didn’t want the Pizza.”

Both of them started busting up laughing and the three of them went along their merry way while I stood up and stretched.

“Here,” said a guy, holding out a Top Ramen Vessel that read: ‘CUP O’ NOODLE.’

The Devil inside me wanted to yell at him: ‘CUP O’ NOODLE!?’
Then point to the sign and yell:
‘The Sign Says: ‘CUP of SOUP!’ ’
But I thought that overall it would have made for bad show, and so I just nodded, accepted and politely added:

“Thank you, sir.”

I ducked inside Starbucks and ate the Salad.

Having kept track of the dollars, I knew I had something in the realm of $27.00, which though very well might have been beginner’s luck, it at least make the Minimum Wage Cut.

Finishing up my greens, I picked up my bag of food. I estimated it must have weighed 15 lbs. Of course, I had not been, nor had any intentions to eat all the food and drink that I had been given. Being a rider of the streets, I knew just the place to take it to.


Friday, February 7, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 3 - SIGN LANGUAGE - 2/3

I walked into the entrance of my Apartment Building,
Or Locker Room,
With my empty pizza box in hand and something of a gameplan in mind.

Stepping into the industrial elevator,
I inserted my Key Card,
Pressed button number 'Sixth Floor,'
And began rising up through the stories.

Elevator for the building required a Special Key Card.
For how low I was in the Financial Food Chain,
I imagined my place was pretty Top Dog 'Xclusive,
‘Specially seeing as I was only a stone-skip away from Times Square.

Elevator doors parted open at the top floor of the building.
I was stomping through the hall,
Hungry and passing fast through the aisle
Set with Double-Stacked Locker Units on both sides of me.
The Florescent Lights overhead were exceedingly bright, as usual.
Along the way of mazing my way through to my place,
I grabbed onto the portable Stairway and pushed it along,
Stopping directly beneath a thick ceiling Pipeline,
Engraved with the bold words that read:

‘Made in U.S.A.’

I exhaled a tired breath.

“Home, Sweet, Home,” I said, climbing the steps and thinking, ‘Kinda…’

Pulling out my keys,
I unlocked the Locker,
And opened it up to find everything precisely as neat as I had left it.

Let me sketch the picture for you.

The Locker Room was roughly 5 X 5 X 5.
Three shelves.

Upon the Bottom Shelf - Sleep-Gear Pack.
Upon the Second Shelf - Duffel bag, containing all clean clothes.
Upon the Top Shelf - A wooden sign that read BLONDYN, (For MARKETING)
A Bose Boom Box, (For ROCK ‘N ROLLING)
And a Menorah, hosting 9 unlit candles. (For LIGHTING)

In one corner I had a vinyl bag for dirty laundry,
And in the opposing corner was a fold up chair,
- Complements of WFM -
Which I unfolded duly
And had myself a seat.

I was breathing deep and listening to nothing but Golden Silence.

Locker Unit or Apartment Room,
The one thing that stood without argument
Was that I had yet to find a place in New York, New York
That was quieter than my cute and aluminum 5 X 5 X 5 cubic condominium.
All across the Sixth Floor, nobody was ever there, practically always.
At midnight, this could be creepy; in the afternoon, soothing;
And at any time of day, definitely a place for a Rave or Party.


“O Brother,” I said.

That was the sound of the elevator engine, from across the way.
It made that sound every time it started upping or downing,
Just to let me know that someone in the building was either coming or going.

Most times it was just other ‘Residents,’
But sometimes it was the Security Guards,
Making the rounds, doing their checks to make sure nobody was sleeping.

I held onto the peace and quiet and waited to see if someone was coming up to my floor.

As I mentioned before, sleeping in the Locker Room was prohibited.
But so was just good old fashiond 'Kicking it,' or 'Hanging out,' -
Something which I’d found out first hand, only about a month prior –

About one month prior,
When having stepped in yet another puddle with my busted Dr. Marten Boots,
I stopped by my locker to change socks.
Having taken a seat to do so,
I then decided to take a minute to kick my bare feet up,
When the jingling of keys preceded one of the Security Guards,
Walking past my wide-open door
To find the Locker Room Pauper,
Sitting low
Like a Modern Day Tom Sawyer.

Security Guard just stood there, looking up at me and at a loss for words.

“You can’t be like this.”

I thought the statement was especially strange,
Riddled of subtleties, ebbing and flowing
Along several lines of Translation.

I assumed this guy was not from the U.S.A.,
And by his accent,
I was guessing he was from one of the islands
Along the warm equatorial line;
His tone, brisk as Winter.


My question was just a question in general.
Allowing him to pick and choose
Whatever issue he wished to address.

“You can’t let them find you like this…”

Again, I was intrigued over what exactly he was suggesting.

“You mean sitting?”

“Resting,” he explained. “If my Boss finds you Resting, he’ll kick you out.”

Wasn’t this getting interesting…

A Youth,
Living on the streets,
Being threatened that he might be kicked out of his Locker Room,
In which case,
He would be living on the streets,
Only with a load of cargo that would make for some serious weight to freight about NYC.

I smiled at the thought and sighed,
While trying to recollect
Exactly at which point in my Life
I had decided
To make everything so fabulously complicated.

“Hey man,” I started, still sitting low and looking down on him when I pointed over to my Dr. Martens. “You see those boots? They’re ripped right along the sole and soaked through and through.”

I nodded to make sure he was understanding, and then continued—

“I was just giving my feet a chance to dry.”

He wrinkled his nose at that.

“And I’m just doing my job.”

I wrinkled my nose at that.

“So where does that leave us?” I asked.

“No problem between us,” he answered, “But just know…”

And at that, he continued on, making his rounds.
He was a genuine guy, thought I.
And then I thought about what he would do had he caughten me changing clothes,
Or blowing my nose,
Or better yet,
Brushing my teeth!

(People, People, Please,
I swear
I’m clean and orderly -
Organized and ordinary -
It just happened, you know…)

Rumble, Rumble, Rumble….

That was the sound of the elevator doors opening up on my floor.

‘Good grief…’

I listened out for the jingling of keys,
But hearing no jangle,
I poked my head out coyly beyond the Locker
Like a Submarine Periscope,
Peeking out the deep blue to have a peep.

“How you doing, baby?”

That was my neighbor, down the way.
He had a good eye,
And had spotted me having a looksie.

From time to time,
He and I crossed paths
While doing our thing.

“O, you know…” I told him, knowing he was knowing something on the Game
While I went right along thinking –
Maintaining, Sustaining, Never Complaining and always Gaining, Gaining, Gaining Mo…!

At the thought of 'Momentum,' my thought dropped off with exclamation.

Wait a second, I thought, scoffingly -

‘You ain’ Moving, you Resting!’

Right then, I snapped to -

Stepped through one, two, three pairs of jeans,
Dove, swaddled and swam amidst 2 seas of sweatshirt and 1 ocean of overcoat,
Stomped my Wool Socks into my Doc Boots,
Grabbed my pizza box,
Ripped it in half,
Took the top and wrote in Big Black Block Letters:


And with my Sleeping Bag Pack for Props,
Got on my way to the Heart of Manhattan,
Times Square.


Thursday, February 6, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 3 - SIGN LANGUAGE - 1/3

Tomorrow had come.

And yet the Sun had already set when I was walking down 10th Avenue,
So Hungry I was Delirious and Dizzy;
.11 Cents in my pocket.

.11 Cents.
Virtually and Non-Virtually, nothing.
Couldn’t even buy a banana at Trader Joe’s with .11 Cents.
Of course, if I’d found me two bottles,
I could turn them in for the Recycling Deposit and then go Cash in on Bananas,
But I’d already been through the ‘Collecting Bottles Shenanigans’ in past self-induced strugglings
For subway transportation and food,
And Broke or not Broke,
Reaching into NYC Garbage Cans
Over and again
Was one dirty undertaking of Shenanigans
That didn’t quite cut minimum wage,
Nor fuel the Glory that rings by the phrase -
'An Honest Day's Work...'

So I was heading for a Food Kitchen.
Bowery Mission.
Right next door to Whole Foods Market, Bowery.
Irony Squared.

The reason I had waited all day
Was because Bowery Mission was in the Lower East Side of Manhattan,
And having spent the afternoon in the Upper West Side of NYC,
I was hesitant to make the 2 to 3 hour walk,
Especially seeing as I didn’t even know what was on the menu.

I had been to a ‘Shelter’ once before,
And believe-you-me,
An Insane Asylum ain’t no Shelter.
I had not been to a Food Kitchen before,
But Rotten Slop wasn't part of my diet,
And I sure wasn't in any mood to get caught in the middle of a food fight.

I’d heard Bowery Mission was one of the better Food Kitchens in Town,
So finally,
Around Sunset,
I’d decided to make way.

On my way I passed by one of those souls one sometimes sees,
Sitting on the sidewalk,
A plastic container full of pennies and holding a sign, headlined -


Where beneath, also in bold letters, the type that read -


As I walked past, I held tight to my .11 Cents,
Thinking to myself that if this Dime and Penny
Between my fingers were to somehow multiply into 1,100 Cents,
I still wouldn’t put a Coin in his cup,
Because though I didn’t know the guy or what he’d been through,
His Sign wasn't nothing I was buying into.

Delirious and Dizzy - and perhaps a little too feisty - I kicked into ‘Writer Critique’ mode…

First of all, I thought, Sign or No Sign,
I've already considered the very-seemly possibility that you might be
Cuz really,
Who has time to sit on the curb and ask for money, while paying Rent in between?
Rather, why not tell me something I don’t know?

Second of all,
I've already considered the very-seemly possibility that you might be
Because sitting street-side and watching people pass you by
Looks to me to be the X, Y, Z Loci AKA Recipe for such a Bona Fide Outcome.
Again friend, tell me something I don’t know.

And lastly,
In the three seconds that it took me to read that sign,
I instantaneously intuited you got a bad attitude that beggin' to hit the bottle.

To clear my mind, I started thinking on some of my own.

What about a sign that read simply:


I’d seen stickers stuck across Manhattan,
And even a building, painted in Brooklyn
With font in big red capital letters that read LOVE ME in exactly that way.


It was short and sweet
And anyone with a Clue, a Heart, and some Change to spare
Would read that sign and know just what to do.

I started thinking up some more One Line Signs, or Universes.

Money for Puppy?

It was short and sweet,
And also kind of cute.
The people would read it and reach in their pockets,
And give a Coin in knowledge that they were contributing to some
Stray or hungry Puppy,
While entertaining their wonderings as to whether The Puppy was, in fact, a Canine
Or a Dog like You.

Cup of Soup?

That one just automatically came to me as the others,
Only after thinkin' it up,
I thought on it a bit longer.

Cup of Soup?

Yes, I’d decided. ‘Cup of Soup?’ was also a Winner.

That way, the people would be reminded that you’re Hun-Hun-Hungry
And just like them,
In need of food for SURVIVAL.
Plus, being within this Winter SETTING,
What food item could possibly hit the mark better than a Cup of Soup?
What better time than the OPPORTUNITY for the Pedestrian,
Here and now,
There and then,
To fork it over and...

I remember saying it aloud -

Cup of Soup?

- Like Oliver Twist, himself.

I was still walking down the block
When my eyes lit up at a pile of Trash,
Mounded on the side of the road for pickup.

Reaching in, I pulled out a Pizza Box,
Checked over the 'Not-Too-Shabby' Cleanliness of its interior,
And thinking of the Sharpie Marker at my place,
Headed to the Locker Room,
With the Expedition to a Food Kitchen well behind me
And fantasies of a hot cup of Chicken Noodle, in hand.


Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 2 - MONEY - Part 3 of 3

At the end of January 2014,
With a broken CPU
And a Song and Dance that no one wanted to listen to,
I walked through Central Park West
Amidst a dense, wet and icy, Winter Fog.
Never before had I seen such oceanic mists
Floating so ghastly across the grassy grounds.

Passing through,
I felt like some
Not sad,
Not mad,
Not anxious, nor glad but simply
Shifting through the gray vapors of some mysterious purgatory
- On my way from one realm to another –
And wondering whether if once there,
I would somehow come up with some MONEY.

I had just paid all my bills -
Rent, Credit Card, Cell Phone -
And cancelled my 24 Hour Gym Membership,
Which was okay for now,
Seeing as Trump Towers had a gym,
Virtually at my disposal, 24/7.

I didn’t know exactly how much was in my Checking Account,
But knew it was something in the range
Of 8 or 9 dollars;
$2 Dollar Bill aside,
My wallet was empty.

In any case,
I was headed to Trader Joe’s
To buy the Day’s Essentials.

At 72nd Street, I took the Strawberry Fields Exit of Central Park West,
Nodded my head in acknowledgment to the
John Lennon ‘IMAGINE’ Memorial
- Decorated of colorful flower petals, as always -
And stepped out into the open streets
Where the circulation of Tourist, Cabi and Horse-Drawn Taxi
Had whirred and whisked away the fog,
Once and for all.

The afternoon was still gray, but the temperature was warming.
As I walked, the Sun started peaking in and out of the thick clouds,
While the dirty snow,
Piled along the roadside,
Was slowly, but surely, melting.

And walking along,
I pondered what struggles and challenges remained ahead,
In knowledge that I had been through enough street-side
To know that if there were ever a
It could be found in NYC.

Throughout my life,
I had always known I was at the wheel,
Driving my Destiny along to where I want it To Be…
That being said,
It has become clear to me that the Fates do play their part
In endowing the Means and the Timing,
That the Journey veers far and wide across the singular line of Expectation.

I can say in honesty that 5 years ago,
I would have never anticipated myself roughing it wild
Just up the block from the Stock Exchange,
But for reasons beyond me,
Felt the Pull of Manhattan, NYC,
And for reasons beyond me
The Attraction won’t let go…
I can say in honesty that if a 5 months ago,
Someone had said to me:
‘Hey, why don’t you start writing a Blog?’
My response would have been something along the lines of:
‘What kind of Dandy has time to start writing a Blog?’

The MOMENTUM that one builds through the years and ages
And given how much I’ve given to get going to this
I know that my CRUSADE is not going to end
Until the Engine arrives at some Spectacle of Ceremony.

Am I being clear?

For the last 7+ years,
My life has been nothing but Devotion and Training and Practice.
I have gone through the cycles,
Time and Again,
Starting with a New Hope,
Riding High
Until the Empire Struck Back with a Momentous Slash
That cast me astray,
Until now,
Dressed in Black,
Ready and Awaiting to Fight and Obey
Whatever Obstacles and Opportunities present
Themselves as the Way unto my Will
And if you so choose, you could start to read your Universe, too…

Frills and whistles aside,
I stepped into Trader Joe’s,
Which though ain’t so High Caliber as Whole Foods Market,
The Price is Right;
Ain’t nowhere I been in U.S.A. where you can get yourself a banana for .19 a pop.

I got my items and cut to the checkout line.
I had one bright orange Tangelo for my fix of Vitamin-C,
I had two .19 Cent Bananas for my fix of Vitamin-P,
And last but not least,
One six-pack of Brooklyn Winter Ale for my fix of Vitamin-H
- Which just in case one is curious, stands for ‘HEAVY’ -
Bcuz when you’re living in a Global Hub of World Economy
With pockets empty,
It’s always good to have something HEAVY at hand.

I had one Mango,
Which wasn’t for me,
But for one of the Trump Tower Honeys –
One of the Sisters I was going to stop by and see and present with the Gift.

Walking through the line,
I was looking over the Birthday/Anniversary/Get Well Soon Cards
Posted on the wall.
I started reading one that read -
‘I am a Feather for each Wind that blows…’

“Number 17,” said the Crew Member.

She was pointing to Cash Register 17 to which I duly headed.

“Ah, so you work construction, huh?”

I was at the checkout counter,
Watching Joey scan my items,
When he had asked me this question.

Joey was referring to my Neon Highlighter Sweatshirt,
Which had an illustrated decal of a City Skyline and a Crane and Crew at Work.
Around the image were words that read –

I had bought this sweatshirt several months before,
Soon after I’d arrived for the second time in NYC,
From a vendor who had set up shop right outside a Construction Site.

“I work it Major,” I answered, and left it at that.

Joey took a second to check out
How amazingly bright orange the sight of that Tangelo was,
And then got back to me.

“I got a good friend in Construction,” he said, “He’s with fellas over at Turner Construction; you heard of them?”

I shook my head.

“No…” I said, “But as long as their Building America, they’re fine by me.”

Joey nodded.

“So what organization are you with?”

It turned out Joey was more curious than the rest of them,
But recognizing he was only keeping his day moving,
I kept my eyes on the road and my hands upon the wheel.


Joey frowned like one of those cute puppy dogs you sometimes see looking up to you.


I swiped my card.

“You heard of him?”

Joey shook his head.

“Debit,” I said, and then proceeded typing in my secret code. “Here goes nothing…”

I was holding my breath,
When Joey started frowning at the Machine like one of those cute puppy dogs,
That all of a sudden noticed another dog
From a different neighborhood
Trespassing and sniffing on the same side of the street…


“Insufficient Funds,” he explained.

I winced for show and held it for effect.

“Say it ain’t so, Joe,” said I, buying time while calculating fast on what to do. “But anyways, why don’t you take off the two bananas.”

Joey nodded slow,
As though my suggestion wasn’t such a bad idea,
Just not necessarily the most expedient.

“Sure,” said Joey, “But will that be enough? The bananas are only .19 a pop.”

I nodded my head in understanding.

“Well, let’s give it a try, anyhow.”

Joey went right along adjusting the transaction,
And somehow,
In the meantime,
Pondered upon a couple other intrigues
That were apparently tickling his intellect.

“So what you working on now?”

There was no question about it – Joey was going all the way;
And what could I say?
It was a fair question,
And all is fair in Love and War.

“I’m working on a Story…”

I paused for emphasis, allowing him time to ask:

“A Story?”

I nodded.

“A Story at the very Top of a REAL HIGH SKYRISE…”

Joey nodded.

“Like a Penthouse…”

I shrugged.

“Something like it.”

Assessment aside,
There he went again with the puppy frown.

“Insufficient Funds.”

This time,
I felt my own nose wrinkle
As I looked over the Tangelo, the Mango and the Brew.
Looking at Joe,
It was clear that both of our frustration’s were at hand.
We were in this together,
And no matter what happened,
For better or for worse,
We were going to get through this and together.

“Alright, take off the Tangelo,” I said, with the finality of an Executive Decision.

Joey nodded sadly.

“That was one orange Tangelo,” he solemnly reflected.


I waited for him to get his chin up.

“It still is…”

At that,
He bandied about fixing the transaction,
With more Gusto and Gumpf than before,
While I was looking thoughtfully
Between the Mango and Brew.

“And if that doesn’t do it,” I started, “Then I’m gonna have to have you cover me while I hit the stairs and make a run for it.”


Joey got a real kick out of that one.

“Not necessary,” he said, handing me my receipt.

I took it into my hand like it were the Ticket, itself.

“Joe, thanks for everything,” I said, “And have a good one.”

I had already turned to head for the steps, when I heard:


I turned around.

“You didn’t even tell me what kind of construction work you do…”

I smiled and continued along on a backstep.

“Come on, now,” I said, “I’m the Architect.”

On my way to Trump Towers,
I stopped by the bank and withdrew my remaining .11 Cents from the account,
Wondering on what kind of day
I was going to have tomorrow
When I could not even afford to buy me a
Cup of Soup…