"Have no fear of perfection - you'll never reach it. "

“One can only learn his powers of action by action, and his powers of thought by thinking”

There are times, however, and this is one of them, when even being right feels wrong. What do you say, for instance, about a generation that has been taught that rain is poison and sex is death? If making love might be fatal and if a cool spring breeze on any summer afternoon can turn a crystal blue lake into a puddle of black poison right in front of your eyes, there is not much left except TV and relentless masturbation. It's a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die. Who knows? If there is in fact, a heaven and a hell, all we know for sure is that hell will be a viciously overcrowded version of the Phillippines— a clean well lighted place full of sunshine and bromides and fast cars where almost everybody seems vaguely happy, except those who know in their hearts what is missing... And being driven slowly and quietly into the kind of terminal craziness that comes with finally understanding that the one thing you want is not there. Missing. Back-ordered. No tengo. Vaya con dios. Grow up! Small is better. Take what you can get..-Hunter S Thompson

Sleep enables me to think of tommorow as a separate time, with my problems resigned to it. But where there is no sleep, there is no tommorow. The Problems were here and now.

The slightest things stimulate the most out of people. I’ve witnessed a lot of shallow skylarking in the short span of my life’s journey. What sets you off? What makes you hot? People tend to state the obvious when they are met face to face with these questions. With only the physical attributes being the primary basis for judging a person for what he is? What’s left for a race that was gifted with more than just the ability to propagate? The biggest package is the biggest asset nowadays. It’s all about being well endowed and it’s all about the Benjamin’s in this town. It’s like that in these times and you know you like it. Because were part of it. Nonetheless, there are a few deviants of the generation who happen to be forward thinking or who happen to be far too damaged to even care. I’d lose it in an instant if I could afford to. If homicide was a catalyst to a state of social peace then why not go around and give them what they deserve.
I’m a cliché in my own mind, anyways how can we be at all very original when all in the world has been done before? Originality is scarce now that most values have expired and more obscenities are slowly being accepted into society. It’s only a matter of time before murder serves an appetite. Six pack abs, mountainous biceps, clear skin and full shaped breasts. These are the gods of our generation. Even the word Taboo lost the very essence of its meaning just like how a glow stick loses its glow after several hours of use. Sometimes the thought of the future generations put me at the most distasteful position. Everything is so accessible nowadays be it drugs, firearms, lethal substances and alike. I wouldn't be surprised if we would be breeding a generation of junkies, sluts and warlords.
I believe its what we can call the “Rivulet effect”. When the past generations invent, do, assimilate, replicate, and (insert whatever word here) we will most likely do it as well to a more severe degree. Its evident, its obvious to see that it exists. Ignore the stupid term I coined for it; Term or no term Behind closed doors no one watches there is no control over human nature. What you resist persists. If u tell a child not to play with a gun he will play with a gun and all the things you’ve done before. Be prepared because your children will go through it one way or another, severely or mannerly. I don't know if I’m still making sense but I have the right to write down any thing I want, I bet someone before me has done it more or less a ga-zillion times so I can as well and I will. You don't have to believe me I don't even believe myself most of the time. But I bet you’d believe what your television tells you or what the newspaper tells you but the funny thing is that whatever media dictates you do but a word from a friend, an idea, the slightest notice of an acquaintance’s possible uncovering is then completely disregarded. And thus the Vanity and all those absurdities on that idiot box plague this world more than ever.
They dilute the very meaning of beauty and existence. Leaving us people of the earth with nothing but a distorted perspective and the most obscene outlooks on life, WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD. The end….

ten-o-two A.M. he wakes himself up to senseless pondering.
summons his best pillow to keep him company. he then plays a song in his head sets volume on low so only he can hear it. the pillow stays dead. the boy turns from left to right forces an eye shut but the other eye remains open. He knows what to do but he doesn't do it he stays in bed, knowing that only his bed could give him the feeling of that warm embrace he longed for. he blacks out for a moment "don't touch that" a voice with a strong feel of authority throws at him a sense of restriction. back in his own mind he rekindles that moment with the moment at hand. showing no emotion he heads to take a shower plays another song a song free from the rules bound by musical theory and technique. he listens then to the splashing of the water on the bathroom floor closer to his feet looks up to see the ceiling;the boy lets his thoughts carry him then he imagines the ceiling was never there. moments and seconds of time-captured bliss then erodes into the reality that he will have to face today and every other day that welcomes his melancholic excuse for living. he still looks her in the eye with the absence of speech and physical communication nor a hint of hope or reassurance of anything. all he does is look and watch... a window shopper with a rare disease.

Bigger dogs they say do steal
Bigger dogs that even time can't heal
Smaller faults they prove a point
I break a bone to hone a skill

We pray together in spoken twisters
tonight the wind just speaks in whispers
Slowly building up suspense
The winter's absence collides with shivers

Dark and Damaged soft spoken
Lingers the eerie sound of wood
My childhood dreams of a life to learn
was the life i've found. . .a wheel to turn

a door to break
today's mistake
in the wake of the morrow
i bathe in lies
till it brings a single cry
from the bearer of snow

hey hair face i have a story i saw your hair on yer faice(face). drunk words talking he said covers his mouth with his mind cause he cant speak. silver sheep make a peep through a hole in the wall. they try to reach for the mirror images i try to understand that the reflection is as good as the actual existing entity, as you can see people will talk and talk about what doesn't need talking about. reflections stare back innocently waiting for a response physically nonetheless they don't get any. we do get a mental image, an array of multicolor waste coats and a beachfront city, a naked runner he runs from the music that chases him towards a tunnel of faces. he speaks the native tongue of the Filipino people curses proudly arrogant smile on his face. ignores grammar caveman talk. bone make sound heart make passion passion make purpose purpose make nothing. nothing gives way to a better language with better words the type we avoid the kind that is mute. hippie dance bohemian clap.were all here and our time's up. (S.C.F.L. #728-727-2242 )