the answer came like a shot in the back while you were running from your lesson which might explain why years later all you could remember was the terror of the question plus, you weren't listening you were stockpiling canned goods making a bomb shelter of our basement and i can't believe you let the moral go by while you were soaking in the product placement

where was your conscience? where was your consciousness? and where did you put all those letters that you wrote to yourself but could not address?

i'm a good kisser and you're a fast learner and that kinda thing could float us for a pretty long time then one day you'd realize you've memorized my phone number and you'll call it and find it's a disconnected line cuz i got tossed out the window of love's el camino and i shattered into a shower of sparks on the curb you were smoking me weren't you? between your yellow fingers you just inhaled and exhaled without saying a word

where was your conscience? where was your consciousness? and where did you put all those letters that you wrote to yourself but could not address?

there's a smorgasbord of unspoken poisons a whole childhood of potions that are all bottled up and so one by one i am dusting off labels i am uncorking bottles and filling up cups so go ahead and have a taste of your own medicine and i'll have a taste of mine but first let's toast to the lists that we hold in our fists of the things that we promise to do differently next time

cuz the answer came like a shot in the back while you were running from your lesson which might explain why years later all you could remember was the terror of the question plus i'm not listening to you anymore my head is too sore and my heart's perforated and i'm mired in the marrow of my (well... ain't that) funny bone learning how to be alone and devastated where was my conscience? where was my consciousness? and what do i do with all these letters that i wrote to myself but cannot address?

Song Lyrics

David Horsey won his second Pulitzer for editorial cartooning this year. So in line with a spring change of logo, we now run a picture story. A case of real life being stranger than fiction:

This reminds me of my first hospital visit in USA. I hope I never have to go back.

Speaks for itself. Also on listening to a story from an old friend, of knowing a girl who died of AIDS.

Is this only a TV representation? Hahaha no way, TV just happens to be a mirror of this dangerous(not brave) new world, I happen to inhabit! To see this happening real time, just go to the club district of any city, in my case Buckhead. Are we having fun yet?

And my old friend thinks that this is not possible. Life is a sequence of revelations!

Collected Noise

Walking on the stone paved walk, Green with moss, in this garden Within a garden, I walk towards The wise Gardener who tends to us, Sometime from near, sometime from afar.

Suddenly a shoal of angel fish rises From the depths of the pond, the surface Breaks, circles! So many circles begin To move out, each one a prayer merging One after another into the beauteous stillness.

From the rectangle of blue, a dove descends And begins to coo slowly as it hops across the yard To the birdbath. It begins to drink from the water. Sunlight flickers on the rain washed brick walls As wind opens and closes the clouds.

And knowing that you are all this And within all this: the red fish And the dove, the sun and the green moss, I still want you to sit by me on this bench, The flawless lotus next to a speckled leaf!

2003:04:06 10:30 FPC, Atlanta

My Poems