There is a game that has no platforms, nor any controls.
Only two players, paired by chance encounter and events.
There are no slots or power cables, but two single wires.
Wires that connect and sync with the lifeline within the chest.
I face no screen or graphic emulation, but the pixels of reality
Live feed from my senses of touch, and from the vision of my eyes
Which are fixated on her. My opponent.
Though, I would not call her an opponent in competition, or rival in objective.
For this game, is a beautiful collaboration of will and mercy
To achieve an innate and universal state of mind
One which cannot be explained or drawn within this realm..
'Love' is the coded title for this worldly life,
Yet much goes unsaid for its energy and existence.
We both work to complete levels, and become greater skilled with ascension
Finding windows for exchanges and creating walls around only us
We find haven within each other, or rather a safe house
And only we hold knowledge of entering the doors we have.
Forces are in motion to see us fall.
Forces made of time, distance, addiction, obsession, materiality and destruction
And after the shelling, massacre, ambush and infliction
If there is yet a pulse of connectivity between us
Then we have survived
We have Remained.
Only to be tested again once those forces resurface..
But soon the impenetrable walls, the kaleidoscope windows and secret doors
Will become our fortress.
A kingdom with minarets of collaboration and commitment
And we can both say truly, that Love; our soul desire, has been fulfilled.
And that is my mission
That is the mission of every being.
I have played this game twice.
And I have lost twice.
My blame has targeted misfortune, cowardice and insecurity
And every time that I find myself in front of the booth
In the Arcade of Intimacy and Union
I see the red neons, and fuses of fireworks, and hear of romance in synths
I place my hand in my pockets, and they are full with coins
Coins carved out of Emerald, Ruby and Gold
Jewels that have been collected in my solitude.
Because wealth of mind only grows in states of isolation
The pressure of neglect, and empty rooms of your house makes you wise
Wise in patience, and you learn to observe your world from a calm silence.
And now I have inserted a coin, and a very familiar wire creeps and grips
The ports in both my ventricles..
The rush of intoxication, and awakening of the senses have me in the realm
A zone so familiar
A zone I seek to dominate and win.. this time.
But what has me here writing.. is a moment of clarity which I have experienced..
That screen which appeared before me, flashing in amusement;
*Insert Coin* GAME OVER *Insert Coin*
Was what I thought to be the end of a failed union. With her..
But I realise now, that the screen is no longer a mockery or omen of failure
I realise now, why two players have individual wires.
The screen of mind, and perspective are separated with her and myself.
The events and senses are shared.
But the interest gained from our transactions are different in weight.
I find that all exchanges which I thought to be fruitless ventures
Were disguised successes,
I reached the hereafter of Love, long before she could
And the screen of defeat that she accepted, was mirrored to mine..
And I walked away with tokens trailing from my pockets
But tears for loss blurred my vision, and I saw tokens to be Memorial flowers
Like that which grows on the battlegrounds of the fallen.
I write this now, because I am in the booth
I write this now, because I feel this game becoming easier.
My only yearning is selfless.
And that is to see that she can reach the pinnacle within her.
I am tired
Not in age, but in empathy
I am tired of seeing the end screen flash before us
The night lights look real nice, but they don’t bring heat
Gentlemen offer their jackets, but her dress is too graphic
Let them see
Let the eyes of cameras have it
As women appeal to God,
Where Jealousy is the Jury
And the courts are in havoc
I mean, at that place in east Hollywood
I was so often with the hardest numbers
I don’t speak as a misogynist
I had other people ask me,
"what the hell are you doing, anyhow?"
these were floozies, killers, blanks
they had bodies, hair, eyes, legs
but, say, take one of them, it was like
sitting there with a shark dressed in a
dress, high heels, smoking, drinking,
the nights went into days and the days
went into nights
and we babbled on through, sometimes
bedding down, badly.
through the drink, the uppers, the
downers, I got myself to imagine
things—say, that this one was the
golden girl of the golden heart and
the golden way of laughter and love
in the dim smokey light the long hair
looked better than it was, the legs
more shapely, the conversation not as
bare, not as vicious
I fooled myself pretty well. I even
got myself to thinking that I loved
one of them, the worst one
I mean, why the hell be negative?
we drank, drugged, stayed in the
center of the rug, through sunset,
sunrise, played Scrabble for 8
or ten hours
each time I went in to piss she
stole the letters she needed
she was a survivor, the
after one marathon session
of 52 hours of whatever we
she said, “let’s drive to
Vegas and get married?”
"what?" I asked.
"let’s drive to Vegas and
get married before we
change our minds!”
"but suppose we get married,
"then you can have it any
time you want it.” she told
I went in to take a piss
to let her steal the letters
but when I came out I opened
a new bottle of wine
and spoke no more of the
she didn’t come around as
much after that
but there were others,
about the same
sometimes there were
more than one
they’d come in two’s
the word got out that
there was an old sucker
in the back court, free
booze and he wasn’t overly
although at times something
would overtake me and I
would grab a body and throw
in a sweaty horse copulation,
mostly, I guess, to see if
I could still do it
and I confused the mailman
there was an old couch on
the porch and many a morning
as he came by I’d be sitting
there with, say, two of them
we’d be sitting there with our
beer cans, smoking and
one day he found me alone
"pardon me," he said, "but can
I ask you something?”
"well, I don’t think you’re
"no, I’m broke."
"Listen, he said, "I’ve been around
"and I’ve never seen a man with
as many women as you.
there’s always a different one.
or a different pair…”
"how do you do it?
I mean, pardon me, but you’re kind
of old and you’re not exactly a
Cassanova, you know?”
"I could be ugly, even."
he shifted his letters from one hand to the
"I mean, how do you do it?"
"availability," I told him.
"what do you mean?"
"I mean, women like a guy who is always
"uh," he said, then walked off to continue his
his praise didn’t help me
what he saw wasn’t as good as he thought
even with them there were unholy periods of
I walked back into my place
the phone was ringing
I knew that it would be a female
The floods of enlightenment that come with detachment
We drown in euphoria from the conscious ability to let go
No longer struggling to stay above water
Along with the rest of em, trying to predict the tides
Notice how under the water you would never feel the storm?
Notice how warfare and destruction go unheard from under?
We lose our life trying to keep the treasure afloat
Fighting to keep the gold coins within our grips
But real wealth comes when you let go of the chest
Let your lungs give in
Let the last air of this world leave you with good tidings
You will find yourself in the infinite blue realm
And all those coins you tried to save are there at your feet
Who would have thought Royalty comes from Poverty of the Mind
Love of Life, Life of Lust, Lust of Love
Are nothing but a Worldly delusion
Find the Power to not give a fuck
And soon metaphysics, quantum physics and economics
Will shift and shape
Just as the skin of the sea
And your reward will form
Like the layers of a Pearl
Forged through time and dead matter
What is it to be human?
But to be fearful of losing your possessions
So rise beyond the blood and bones
And fall into the ocean of sincerity
The ocean that doesn’t give a fuck in abundance
Take your last breathe, and reflect the weight of its worries
And release the fumes conjured within
And breathe the wisdom that drowns you.
Do you realise the consequences?
Did you consider the damage that will ensue?
You just started war in a city full of veterans.
Bodies are showing up from all corners, with your scent on em.
The victims are hunters, made men and executioners..
And you think you can just show up and single-handedly take on my city?
There are rumours on the lips of bitches, and tongues of witches..
They say you were born with a defect.
It seems you are missing a very human mechanism,
A heart they say. A woman with no heart.
Well I can tell you this..
Some quantities of ammunition were produced in a soviet factory,
Just as the wall in Berlin fell.
This particular batch found itself on the E55 headed into Germany where,
An Italian gentleman matched the items with a set of sub-machine firearms.
This was then sold on to a counterparty with interests in vice,
And with partners in the US.
It was then shipped, and found way to the ports of the East Coast,
Where my associates do business.
And it just happens, that you enter my city, and decide to play games..
Games you seem to have mastered.
We specialise in multiplying assets, and muscling in on competition.
We are market leaders, and merchants of vice.
Real bastards with no sense for cognitive ritual between people..
And yet you find a way to paint a darker tone over our blackened hearts.
This so called word, Love,
Has no place, nor is welcome in our affairs.
So tell me, why did you bring it to our table?
That shipment of old Soviet arms was destined for you my love.
Every bullet has a portrait of your face on it,
Every trigger will embrace just to taste you.
This city used to belong to the five families..
And it is to my knowledge, that you currently dwell in the Black Hand club,
Down on Jerusalem Boulevard.
A car has been assigned..
Filled with heartbroken killers clutching at mechanisms of your peril.
Only the traffic of the night is between us..
But worry not, for we will be reunited soon..
When the doormen will fall in angelic shower of led,
And you are found seated whilst the music salutes you under neon light.
Let this night be my gift to you.
You were First To Shoot,
But I can assure you,
That the reign of Men will be the last to lose,
In this love tragedy that we find ourselves in.
Adieu, my Lady..
Stalin was King
And the Peasants conspired
The ground never pregnant with food
The West inspired
Monsterous factories in labour
Cognac and cigars for the security forces
Berlin Wall Soon Fall
Middle Men soon born
Prison tattoos and Olympic medals under suits
Illicit goods, Old roads become trade routes
Rich clients and Poor morality
Feeds the profit derived from vanity
Criminal is a harsh identity
For friends of Politicians and Officers
Simply men from the East
Committing to their promises.
A writer will leave the other dimension and enter into this world only to exist, study, work and love.. then return back to the other side.
I imagine taking briefcases of film reel with me back to the poetic dimension.. reels filled with energy, colour and retrofied memory..
Every day we find ourselves in the mayhem and operations of society..
Cinema, music and laws of attraction have made us keep an eye on the masses of flesh and bone to find the one. The alpha. The other.
Love at first sight
Target of affection
Freak occurrence in statistics.
The labour and daily routine that we live by keeps us moving..
Train tickets, terminals, cab calls and commutes.
Raves, reunions, apartment viewings and appointments.
The world doesn’t forget to turn, and the moon doesn’t forget to change faces.
Death is an accurate book keeper, and Birth is a virtuous time keeper.
Everything is written.
Maktub. Koudrat. Takdir. Destined.
We are spectators of beauty and visionaries of our desires..
We observe for a stone chip of time, to capture a moment of eye contact with another person.. to build a channel of thought, emotion and recognition in that very moment.
When the contact is lost, either by people walking through, or change in direction or merely a shy turn of cheek.. the connection is broken again.
But that small exchange is enough to intoxicate our mind with chemicals.
One look is enough.. I just need you to look at me.
Go about your ways.. you don’t need to stay.
But let me speak a thousand conversations in a second of contact.
I am blind in crowds.
So wake me.
“To shoot the Suit that suits the fruit of her eye
Gentlemen, what a pleasant evening,
My work here is done, let the firewood tell it’s final stories,
Let the candle make it’s last supper”
“A city full of knights that have never been to war and princesses that fair no different from whores..”
Rotating bodies, confusion of sound
Negative imagery, holding us down
Social delusion, clearly constructed
Human condition, morals corrupted
Trapped in reaction, lawlessness war
Dissatisfaction from bowels to core
Devil’s technology, strategy for
Human mythologies, urban folklore
Sick of psychology, counterfeit cure
Wicked theology, robbing the poor
Scheme demonology mislead the pure
Strictly strategically studying war
Light shown in darkness, image exposed
Few can see through the new emperor’s clothes
Lustful this hustle turn humans to hoes
When the blind lead the blind
Just more trouble and woes
It’s the mind that they chose
Its designed to stay closed
Standard of jokers, court just a logic
Sick looking cosmics, from schoolyards to college
Primitive man with civilize knowledge
System collapse and he still won’t acknowledge
God is the saviour, studies behaviour
Trying to fix the mix mind that he gave ya
Stiff-necked scholars on prescription meds
Wishing their problems were all in their heads
Morale dilemma, pride is the root
Misguided from youth, heart divided from truth
Egyptians and Grecians, spiritually dead
Imperially led, by the gods in their heads
Motives and thoughts
Global economy, in it for self
Heart full of madness, covered with kind
Pleasure designed to take over your mind
Furnished in godliness, painted in good
This tainted priesthood got real saints misunderstood
While classes in government, set up the veil
And cultivate minds for more mythical tales
Typical Hollywood follies good girl
While vice and corruption take over the world
Motives and thoughts
Check your motives and thoughts
Blind with the wickedness, deep in your heart
Modern day wickedness is all you’ve been taught
Lied to your neighbours, so you get ahead
Modern day trickery is all you’ve been fed
Motives and thoughts
Check your motives and thoughts
“Don’t fall for my charm, even a poison apple can appear sweet on the witch’s palm..”
“Where you going with them bags girl?
How many of their hearts are in your hands girl?”