zeavenIt is often said that to truly enjoy life you must die every now and then. Okay it isn’t often said; I just made it up. Nonetheless, truth is truth and you can’t hide from the truth because the truth is all there is. Thank you Handsome Boy Modeling School for bringing us that wonderful revelation. That being said, before you go dying just to check out if what I say is true, just make sure you know how to come back before you make the trip to the other side because that place can get a little crazy. Speaking of deaths and rebirths I don’t think I need to tell all of our subscribers that we here at ZENINTHECAR.COM have undergone a sort of death and resurrection like the Phoenix rising from the ashes of the old and unfurling into the glory of the new. Shortly after I announced last year that we here were going on a hiatus to recharge and reflect some of you may have noticed that the site actually crashed for some time. Knowing there are no such things as coincidence, at first I thought this was the internet getting all mad at us for taking time off and having a hissy fit by knocking us off our server. “That’ll show them not to take away my Zen goodness!” Hindsight always being 20\20, I of all people should have known that it was a premonition or Divine warning of what was to come.



Team Zen At 2nd Amendment Rally

Now, while we have not been with you these past few months do not think us slack. It’s not like we were all just sitting around, resting on our laurels from the past year completely task less in this endeavor to save a Republic. Oh no, while all the contributors here have been going through…”life changes”…we have also managed to partake on your behalf in activism and ultimately reformation of the current system of things. Granted, we have done it on a wing and a prayer but for some reason or another it seems that our path has been guided by Divine Providence; the kind spoken of by the Founding Fathers of this great America. We have been able to go places and meet people that are just as passionate about saving this country as we here at ZENINTHECAR.COM. Much of our adventures will be shared with you through the crew of ZEN IN THE CAR T.V. in posts yet to come, however I can tell you as someone with his boots on the ground-things are looking up. There is a peaceful Revolution taking place. It cannot be stopped, it cannot be compromised, and it cannot be perverted. A Revolution of ideas and information is indeed happening. A Revolution of information and our interaction with that information is in fact transpiring. It is as agent Smith would say; inevitable. As our generation awakens to the fact that the way of things they were born into are completely voluntary, they are beginning to understand that a peaceful Revolution requires little more than no longer volunteering. They are beginning to see that the only thing really needed to change the current system of things is to no longer go along with it. However this can be a scary notion when one has no vision of an alternative or no examples in how to defy the current system of things. Enter the ZEN IN THE CAR T.V. crew. We are here because each of us are the type of activists that not only note the problem, but seek out the solution and then implement it in our own lives. This implementation can cost a great deal; this we will warn you. However at the end of the day you will have true Freedom; and true Freedom is waking up and deciding what you want to do with your day rather than someone else doing it for you.



But tell us how you really feel…

So how do we start this year, this phase, and this chapter of ZENINTHECAR.COM? Well we begin it with an adventure of course. I had been at my local Books-A-Million the entire day. Where else would you expect to find me? At this point in my life this place is my church, it is my fortress of solitude. It appears that whenever I go through a major “life change”, the Universe always seems to place me near books. Lots of books, a plethora of books in fact. Be it libraries or bookstores, I am always placed in a position of assigning my soul to the art of books. I take this as an omen, a sign from the Universe that regardless of my situation I am on the right path. So there I was; at my local book store while outside the storm clouds merged. The whole day I had a bad feeling but kept shirking it off like the dark cloud I didn’t want to feel. I knew something was going to happen. I could feel it in my bones. Shortly before the assigned time of our trip Jason Patrick entered the store. It was strange at first to see one aspect of my life merge with another, but after a moment it started to make sense. I started to understand the interconnectivity of it all…but that should be saved for a different story.


Jason the First

Jason the First

Jason Patrick purchased a few of my recommendations; mostly books by Ron Paul, then made his exit to the bridge of the starship Zenterprise to await my arrival. I was of course, as always, fashionably late. This tardiness forced us to pile into Curtis Sirman’s car and push the speed limit to the limit we could push. This was especially difficult in the rain, and even more so difficult being a tad clairvoyant and knowing what was to come. We were headed for a car crash. Nothing was going to stop it, and no one could prevent it. It was going to happen and I knew it before we got in the car. Cruising up I-75 to the state’s capitol, the whole time I had this feeling that it was due at any moment. Curtis was on GPS and eerily enough the entire time saying “Its ten miles to our FINAL DESTINATION, its five miles to our FINAL DESTINATION, it three miles to our FINAL DESTINATION…” and the only thing I wanted to tell him was to please stop saying that.
As we entered downtown Atlanta and headed for Decatur we ended up on one of those twisted streets that change traffic flow lanes depending on the time of day, six lanes or so, with the lights overhead to let you know which way you are supposed to be driving. Curtis and I were both at a loss for how Patrick was able to tell what lane we were supposed to be in due to all of them having broken lines, but trusted that somehow or another Patrick wouldn’t allow us to shuffle off this mortal coil…today anyway. As the drivers in front of Patrick all tapped the breaks our good friend shouted an expletive or two and said:
“That’s what I can’t stand about Georgia drivers; they all think you have to slow down in the rain. You don’t have to slow down in the rain. I’m from Seattle; if there’s one thing I know how to do its drive.”


RainyHighway-MontgomeryCoMD-108AM-01Aug2010The moment those words came out of his mouth I reached behind me and pulled the seatbelt down, snapping it into its safe and snug home. Death…here we go again. As Jason Patrick drove, looking for the address to the event we were going to (a Copblock.org course on asserting your Rights with the police) his attention was drawn off of oncoming traffic. The bottom of the rain clouds dropped and a billion buckets of God’s tears came crashing down on us. While the rain fell, Patrick failed to see that our lane had suddenly decided to be a lane for the other side of oncoming traffic. Oops. The moment Patrick, Sirmans and myself realized this was when we spotted a green Volkswagen beetle heading straight for us with a trajectory that said “Head on collision? Yes, I’d like that very much.”
Fortunately Jason Patrick’s puma like reflexes allowed him to take note just before the crash and the wheel was jerked hard left. Curtis Sirman’s car flew through about three lanes of oncoming traffic and met its lesson of physics as it slammed into a light post, a transformer box, did a sort of 180 spin and stopped short at a fence on the side of the road. Then there was silence. In the backseat I first cringed, then had to smile, knowing full well that your heroes of Freedom and Liberty would one way or another come out spotless.
Once the car was stationary we all checked to make sure no one had lost a limb or a head or what have you and limped the car to the side street to make sure our potential head on collision wasn’t hurt. Once we knew that we had miraculously dodged every fender that had been provided for us, the three of us stood outside in the rain and thanked the Universe, or God, or Goddess or what have you for not allowing us to shift over on this day and continued on to the event we had come to cover. Of course, there is an alternative version of this tale that only I could tell.
Unbeknownst to Jason Patrick and Curtis Sirmans, we in fact did get slammed by oncoming traffic. Not only did we get slammed but we got slammed in such a way that our bodies were laid out on the street, lifeless beneath the cold Atlanta rain. There were ambulances, there were fire trucks, and there were body bags. As I said in the beginning, to enjoy life you must die every now and again.



photo from emergingyouth.com

“Where is this place?” Jason asked.
Of course Curtis just stared on with enthused amazement as I dusted myself off and stretched my back.
“This is the afterlife. We died and now we get a report card before we go back.” I quipped.
Curtis stood to his feet and looked around for a moment, then to me.
“Are you serious? I mean I’m an atheist. I don’t believe in any of this. I was just supposed to go blank or something.”
I put my hand on his shoulder and smiled.
“This kind of thing doesn’t care if you’re an atheist or not. It kind of has its own rules. Just roll with it man, it’s actually kind of fun when you do it a few times.”
Once the three of us were good and comfortable a messenger arrived to escort us through the gates and into the throne room of the Almighty. I found it amusing to watch Jason and Curtis transfixed with the architecture of Heaven all around them. But I mean seriously, after you’ve seen it once or twice you kind of get used to it. But hey, whenever friends and family cross over and I get the chance to be with them it’s always a groovy experience.

As usual, God was sitting on His throne with a PlayStation 5 controller in His hands. He was screaming at this kid from Buffalo New York as he got shot for the seventh time online. God is pretty good with “Call of Duty” when it’s just the game, but that kid from Buffalo New York owns him every time when he logs on. The three of us stood there for a minute until He realized he needed to pause the game and do some Universe saving type stuff.
“Sorry about that fellas. That little creep gets me every time. I swear to myself if I don’t own him on the next round I am so sending him to Hell.” God said.
I did this sort of inner laugh as I thought it over. Sirmans and Patrick were too busy kneeling before the Glory of the Almighty to help me out as I rolled it over. I thought about it for a second and then the answer came to me.
“Why don’t you just put in the God code?” I asked.
“Do what?” God responded.
“Dude, just put in the God code. I mean you are the supreme being of the Universe, just put in the God code and that little squirt from Buffalo New York won’t be able to get within twenty miles of you online.” I replied.
God looked over his shoulder a few times to make sure the Cheribums weren’t around.
“Hey, if I put that code in you aren’t going to tell anyone are you? I mean I don’t want to cheat but this little shit from New York really has me razzled.” God inquired.
I looked over at my friends, still reeling from being dead.
“Can we take care of this first, please?”
“Oh yeah, sure. No problem, what’s up?”


…And on the eighth day…

“Well me and my friends just died in a car crash but we weren’t quite done saving America. It’s kind of something important to us and we really wanted to pull that off, so do you think you could just send us back where we left off so we can get on that?” I asked.
God put the controller on the side of his throne and stepped over to his coffee bar and made a caramel macchiato. As always, I waited for him to finish off the cream on top. God loves the cream on top of a good caramel macchiato.
“I guess, man. I mean if I send you back again do you think you can pull it off this time?”
“I think so. These are good guys, I think we can manage.”
“Alright then, but look, if you guys die again in between me kicking this kids ass from Buffalo New York, do you think you can just go to customer service and have your re-ups done there? I mean I like it when you stop in but it’s really cutting into my video game time. And you know they aren’t going to remember any of this, right?” God said.
I shake my head in agreement. God smiles and waves his hand. The next thing I know is that I’m beside the road with Jason Patrick and Curtis Sirmans…and we are not dead. Well perhaps we are, but those two have no idea it happened. It takes moment to reestablish where I am at but once I do I have to smile.


D.L. Crumpton

D.L. Crumpton

At some point in your life you have to pick a death where you leave it all behind. You have to choose that moment when you are done going over past mistakes and past tribulations and say to yourself “This is the moment I move forward. This is the moment I am born again.” The moment I stepped out of that car and my feet touched concrete, I myself decided this was that moment for me. Everything I was before was gone, everything I had was up in a puff of smoke. As Radiohead would say; “In the next world war, a jack knifed juggernaut; I am born again.” And so I was, born again so to speak. Without a test pattern existence of routine in waking up, going to work, paying my taxes hanging over me I felt as if something new was about to happen. I felt like a brand new man. Though that brand new man would have neck and back problems for a while, it was still worth it just to put the past behind me.
“You guys want to file a report?” Jason Patrick asks.
I look over at Sirmans who could give one less of a crap than me.
“Nah, let’s keeping going.”

So there you go. The crew of Zen In The Car T.V. crashed right after the website. Read into that what you will. Did we have a meeting with God? Well that I leave to you. You can either believe it or not. If we didn’t, then we are all collectively ingenious. If we did then we are all collectively touched by the Divine. Either way, we hope that this next year you enjoy ZENINTHECAR.COM, and maybe you’ll learn a thing or two so you can help us to revolve this Revolution. The next phase is sure to have many a thrills, chills, and near death experiences but for some reason or another we feel it will all be worth it. With new contributors coming to the site in both the written word as well as video, surely 2014 will be a year to remember. Of course before we begin this mutual journey we have to let you in on a little piece of advice; the best time to stop a car crash is right before it happens and if you are destined for a head on collision then its best you trust in your last line of defense and pray that airbag saves your life. Namaste.


Does the World Need an Enema?

Samuel Gene

Samuel Gene






Family…what structure to desire it so.
A house on a rock as winds give a vengeful blow.
What did Alice find, on the bottom to land?
What? Was it fate, or by a devils quick hand?
No one cries yet sighs from most bothered eyes.
From house or home…and a stone that defies.
Shot gun shells of spells…so swallow it down.
The idol sees not but gives a bitter frown.
A miserable existence, to not join happiness so dear.
Fighting for Love with shove and no longer fear.
You look innocent, given the best two-face…
..and crooked crown.
Shout freedom for all before the gavel…
..slams down.
The love of money, that yearn and burns in the end.
Ashes float as we cope and gone with the wind.
Are you innocent? With best look money can buy.
Or a key to castles floating in the sky?
What fate we have if Love is not true?
Or mental capacity to judge between kind or cruel?
Full-Deck ready, between misfits of order…
..and clowns of chaos.
All around the sound of slaves yelling…
..”free us!”
Do you want peace or die to this inner war?
Trigger happy, and many lifeless on the floor.
Divide and conquer. Yet the people do see.
Cover us in caves, for wrath we cannot flee!
Trouble me sunshine on a very dreary day.
Bring to Light while shadows shift and play.
Expose the many liars, killers and selfish thieves.
Give no rest to evil. See how boldly it breeds.
Chance and roll the dice. Gather up every cent.
How can fire consume, if you have no flint?
Banners of fear wage no rest in the night.
What to fight, if the people have no might?
Bitter pills and to vomit is only natural indeed.
Hands up asses and from wood we allow this greed.
Dine with wine, maybe trouble to be gone tomorrow.
Reason with the “loonies”, to help their sorrow.
Lovely hive and the bees will still sting!
How cumbersome, for whom the bell does ring?
A crazy genius is me, with equipped slaying eyes.
Cut asunder between one Truth and many lies.
So pout and bicker with utter inflamed delight!
Dream dreams of peaceful streams under the night.
To what price between the rod and guiding staff?
The hand from a man and His continuing craft.
Writings on the wall and that kingdom is numbered.
From rage of fire, and your lightning and thunder.
Those not planting will inherit the bitter wind.
And those on the wayside to be consumed…
..in the end.
Yet! Bitter brooks give angered looks.
To shelter is most unwise.
Before all, the giant is brought down to size.
Diabolic intent, to eat more than mere skin.
Fight for life and forgive another’s sin.
Who cares? Who spares the soul of ignorance bliss?
How does control feel, before the snake to hiss?
No new thing under sun and skies of white and blue.
If too many chiefs, then tell me who does rule?
Cast in your chips and see if fortune will come.
Pay tribute to Caesar and find a pointed gun.
Slaves as before and maybe happy ever after.
It is mad!” as corporations give off laughter.
A joke to kill and steal. A ransom of very life.
So play along with vises of your own strife.
Soak in the filth, and breathe in the air.
Pick a ‘happy daisy’, and watch the careless care.
Young once, since then we left all youth behind.
A simple call and said words were so unkind.
Between north and south, yet we all walk the same.
Enjoy the silence…and wonder why you came.
Money is your solution and money is your answer.
A lit cigarette to regret and caught by cancer.
Pulled in the water by a most vengeful fish.
Knocked down to death by a hammering fist.
Is this my blood, which flows and nothing hindered?”
Or the childlike victims which softly surrendered?
The gods surround and hound like bloody beasts.
With forks and knives, they gather for a feast.
Ignorance bliss, so kiss wife and kids good…bye.
“Mr. Waterboard” did confess to “Mr.Guiltys” crime.
Lies and Truth, for some other to someday fix.
Broken bones by stones, bricks and sticks.
So pull the pin and throw the grenade in.
And hope this blast covers a multitude of sin.
Sick in the head, in the bed with every lover.
This joker picked wild, and the game almost over.
Falsehood walks and stalks the kids at play.
Catholic priest fornicate in the light of day.
Holy riders rage under bullet-proof glass.
Urging us onward and never learn from our past.
Till frogs fall and in the water is blood.
We play like pigs in the filth of mud.
The day almost done, and hurt was so much fun.
Turn on the lights and watch the fearful run.

photo from musicians4freedom.com

photo from musicians4freedom.com

Let’s End the World Together


photo from www.imvu.com

You showed me a picture of the apocalypse and grinned
Said you couldn’t wait to see the world devoured by its sins
The scope of such a mind moved me to tremble deep
But though the pain you felt was mine, for you the world I’d keep
This orb of ours has turned on us by wrath and brutal rape
It’s used our goodness for centuries, Light turned to dark without escape
For centuries we lost our path and groped to find our way

With little more than hopes and dreams that soon we’d see the day
The day when all this hate would turn in on itself
And all their precious jewels and porcelain would fall from off their shelf
We longed to see their ivory tower crumble to the soil
When they would weep and gnash their teeth in war that we would spoil
You play your part and I’ll play mine so careful they won’t know
That all the chaos they feel now was our well written show
Without a word, without a script the two of us will plot
In hidden caves and catacombs we’ll stow treasure they have sought
You play the whore, I‘ll play the thief with masks we made alone
But come curtain call they’ll see our face, the face we’ve always shown
Your dress is white and without spot, no need to convince me
My hands are clean and without blood and this you’ll always see
As they run and hide from us, fearing what we are
We’ll make them pay their debt to us; they’ll never run too far
For now that we have broke our sleep no chains can bind us now
They wanted their apocalypse, but we will show them how
How to shake this Universe and end their best laid plans
And then our Light will shine on pyramids across the desert sands
When it’s all said and done I’ll be on bended knee
And as promised I’ll cover wasted Earth in the greenest of ivy.

236- The Revelation to John_TIF

photo from www.saint-mary.net


“And the Lord gave favour in the sight of the Egyptians. Moreover the man Moses was very great in the land of Egypt, in the sight of Pharaoh’s servants, and in the sight of the people.” Exodus 11:3

Kangaroo Court


photo from www.southdacola.com

When a man is innocent and to his vows been true
It’s neat to see the hit parade in his city through
Pitchforks here and torches there with nine inch nails to spare
The sounds of smiting on his cheek, and snaps of ripped out hair
The pyres built in city square, the flames are kindled hot
Convicted of crimes pinned on him, but on his Glory they think not
Dragged through the street his stripes still fresh with red
The frothing mob of hypocrites won’t stop until he’s dead
Once they all had gathered round to listen to his mind
But now they have a taste for this, there are no ears to find
They say he has a god complex, a heresy indeed
And now they’ve got all his pounds of flesh for dead idols to feed
Yet this time it’s not the same, the nails just won’t pierce through
And though the fire is kindled hot, his garments still look new
There are no darts to hit him now, no matter how well shot
And from behind the hill of skulls the horsemen surely trot
The backbiters don’t understand, that on his wrists are chords
Not to bind him to martyrdom, but to better aim his sword
So tread lite when wearing robes to judge another’s worth
Because in the end the Truth reveals who truly judges Earth.

New Seeing Eye

recent photos from phone 054

D.L.C 1999

Hey guys, just wanted to drop this line and let you know that the recent influx of inspiration in my search for new writers with the First Renaissance has inspired me to begin a new collection of poetry myself after a decade of dry pen tips. Of course I will still be posting my poetry from a decade ago from “Perspicacity” and “Wasting Despair”, but I can’t help but sharing the newest and freshest lines of rhyme from the current collection I am working on under the working title “Hearts and Arrows, Halo’s and Horns”. I am also happy to say that Samuel Gene has gotten his works together and those scribbles will also be a fine addition to our poetry and short story section alongside Khali Rodriguez and Joshua Crumpton’s works of art, to name the first of many. Hope you enjoy. So without further preface I’d like to share with you the latest from my pen. Hope you enjoy. Namaste.



photo from cssresources.blogspot.com

When I was young the world was clear and all these things made sense

The grass was always evergreen, no shades divided by our fence

No one owned another soul or tried to hold them down

With no contracts to tear us up or steal from us our crown

Yet along the line somewhere we lost the innocence in us

And gave away our Brand New Days for moth and death and rust

But when the cloak of death found me and in its grip I choked

A new young voice arose in me and oh how sweet it spoke

Its hand reached down into my grave and its skin at first did sting

But when I mixed its burn in me together we did sing

The boom of us shot through the night and burned away the pain

And as our eyes could see all Truth we both brought down the rain.




**NOTE: Years ago I wanted to pay homage to one of my personal idols, Edgar Alan Poe, and wrote a poem in the same fashion as “The Raven” called “The Evil Act of Alan Loe”. Unfortunately the original copy as well as the collection it was in exchanged so many hands that I lost track of it and now it is either lost forever or in some vault somewhere…hopefully. Either way the poem told the story of a man who came home drunk from the pub one late night and caught the scent of another man on his wife. In true Poe fashion, the narrator of the prose murders his wife, hacks her into bite sized bits and feeds her to all the stray and feral cats outside in the alley way. Of course no murderer ever finds contentment in their deeds so at the end of the poem I had the man haunted by the perpetual meowing of cats possessed by the spirit of his dead wife. Years later I thought it would be fitting to write a sequel to the poem and that’s how this one came along. Hope you enjoy the macabre side of my scribblings.**



photo from www.glogster.com

“My screams, my screams, they filled my home’s long hall!
As a cat with fur so black would run from all my calls.
I’d stalked the thing all night you see, all my efforts failed.
I’d sought to crack its tiny spine and curse the place it hailed.
It’d turn its head and give a hiss, the claws cut through the air.
I’d done away with all his friends, and their deep grave it’d share.
For many years I’d sup inside, alone with drink in sight.
And from outside I’d see those eyes filling me with fright.
I’d take my food and find a room with no window nearby.
Yet still those pests would not give up, they’d all begin to cry.
Their taunts would fill my soul with ache; I think that was their aim.
To torment me for all my days, and burden me with shame.
Late sometimes I’d fall asleep, try and rest my seams.
But then I’d wake in drenched in sweat, those cats were in my dreams!
For quite some time I’d search for peace in what’d become my life.
But when my back’d be turned away, their eyes would be a knife.
Although I’d not look onto them, their stares would pierce my skin.
And then a hate I’d hid away would rise in me again.
I knew to make this nightmare stop I’d have to see their blood.
Find a way to end their curse and place them in the mud.
So I’d feed them every day, a bowl of milk for each.
Inside the stuff was poison see, it’d stop their silent speech.
One by one they’d fall to death, their legs would cramp like stone.
This would wipe them all away, except for one alone.
He’d not drink the milk I’d give; he’d turn his nose to it.
He’d gaze at me and lick his paw, upon my steps he’d sit.
So here I am enraged again, this thing eludes me much.
And though I’m fast this thing is more, so fast I cannot touch.
As I chased it through my house, I tripped and then went down.
And I knew I’d all but lost, as my head filled with some sound.
When my body hit the ground my neck gave up a crack.
Then all my touch soon went away, my body went all slack.
That is when the cat would stop, and take its little rest.
But where it did is what numbed me, its bed was now my chest!
So I know I’m living now the last of my poor days.
With nothing more to comfort me, except this cat’s deep gaze.”

D.L.C 1999

Behind, “The Pride”

The man telling this story obviously has some secret to hide from the world. Something so dark it’s been eating him alive for a number of years. He’s so convinced that his actions are somehow known to this pride of cats that he intends to do away with them. Unfortunately he is paralyzed in the process of clearing his conscience.

Next: Perspicacity: The Twisted Fate of Alan Loe


Bra burners instead of grace.
Hippy justice disrupt the race.
Save the whales instead of human-kind.
Killing babies and not call it “ genocide”.
Ironic, turning things to their favor.
A woman has choice before her labor?
I save my pity for lives never known.
Buried in trash instead of under stone.
Much drugs filter through the ages.
If we came from the apes in cages?!
Cut down to size, in the past and ponder.
Youth is gone, but look down yonder!
Happy children I see as I quickly pass.
In this day, can their joy truly out-last?
Beyond the vial or tarp that guides your way.
Conquer the sadness and madness of this day.
Oh the trickery, and the one tricked, it was me!
This rose of red I held, helped me to finally see.
Ingenious, through fast array we come to our fate.
Vessels of love rises above the stream of hate.



photo from wallpaperage.com

Last: No Sacrifice

Constantly within our minds we hear the ticking sound
Telling us that nothing lasts, least that’s what I have found
I peer into my minds back door and let emotions come
Memories with joy inside, more with grief’s great sum
I see the face of yesterday and want to touch its skin
Yet I know the beams of time are things I cannot bend
I weep for tragedies I’ve felt so very long ago
And with those things behind me now, what path in life to go?
How come I can’t live in the past, at least those things aren’t blind
And as the future rolls to me, I miss those things behind
I miss the times when I was young and all the world was new
When all the lies I knew were lies, and all the rest was true
Perhaps my thoughts are nothing more than some small petty theft
Preventing me from living on the life that I have left

D.L.C 1999

Explained: Oh how we dwell on the past in anguish because those times are gone. We get so wrapped up in our glory days that and we let the present slip right by. If we actually stop obsessing about those days we could be living days better than the ones we have already lived.

Next: Unwanted Affinity

Perspicacity: NO SACRIFICE

Last: Forbidden Fluid







Beneath the stars
You’ll find me there
With gazing eyes and auburn hair
And on my face
You’ll see a smile
Despite my pain
And horrid trials
Beneath my flesh
My scars are kept
Though now I don’t
At once I wept
What’s the use to weep so long?
From injuries
Of those so wrong
Their faces do not cloud my mind
Look into me
And Peace you’ll find
I can’t become
The thing I hate
Spit out my soul
And loose my fate
This thing I am
I love it so
The path they make
I cannot go
So please do keep
These words I say
A storm may soon
Head down your way

D.L.C 1999

Explained: This poem is a testament to the fact that what I am now, who I am now, is something I am happy with. My character is the accumulation of respectable people I have met in my travels. Small things from them make of the smirks, the sneers, the laughs, the humor, the logic, the compassion, the intellect which makes me.
I take from them what I admire and make it my own. That’s what makes all of us. I wrote this poem as an oath; no longer will I sacrifice those little pieces of me to those who don’t like them. Because those little pieces come from people who never asked me to compromise my convictions. They simply accepted me for all my faults. And together we created something unique.

Next: Repetition of the Soul

Perspicacity: FATHER

Myron Jackson Crumpton

Myron Jackson Crumpton

Perspicacity: One Million Love’s Per Day

As a child there was a face that struck into my mind
A smile so warm, and eyes so cool, a heart no child could find
Within my mind, ten worlds would live; my dad would feed them so
And when he’d strap those big boots on, I’d wonder where he’d go
I’d go to school and learn new words, which father had done taught
In “historee” books I’d read of wars in which my dad had fought
Then I’d come home and hold his hand which were so big to me
And in his grip, I’d feel the strife of all his victories
Now through my life I’ve felt much pain, but dad he blessed me so
He gave me hope, and game me strength, in which my soul shall grow
So as I pass throughout my trials I think of him so high
And with his strength inside of me, no goal shall pass me by
I look at life as something new, now that I am grown
And in my heart I keep the scenes in which my dad has shown
So as new problems come to me, I know I shall not run
Because you see I have strength, I’m Proud to be your son.

D.L.C 1999

Father Explained: Some things should be said while they can be heard

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