made it this far
everything worked out once
so what makes you think
it falls apart now
tougher than this
faced more before
never tripped yet
don’t lose balance now
made it this far
everything worked out once
so what makes you think
it falls apart now
tougher than this
faced more before
never tripped yet
don’t lose balance now
late night again, New York this time drip coffees on in the kitchen And the news is on the radio Fold the times, too tired to read those headlines how many tears can a people cry? Because its not 73 but Wounded Knee is happening right Now & Black Churches burned in the name of the david dukes, the donald drumpfs and the muslim fear Isnt it clear that we’re in danger, Threatened by the spanish language, The melanin thats in our skin The Get back, Stay Out! The idea that women can have a voice, that Indians can sit & pray, that sons & daughters arent Afraid to tell their parents theyre gay That the poisoned school drinking water in newark & flint isnt enough to embarass the government- whats my place and where do i fit, an identity in an age of Millenium children & gen Z kids turning change into businesses, glowing screens and computer keys Lethal weapons to a once easily manipulated herd Now heard by teenage girls who are proud of their period blood, Who find strength in each others sisterhood
So here i sit with coffee in hand, The lonely white straight American man, do i get tattoos to break from the mold, a ring in my lip, a pierced nose- whats my responsibility, my role? As i grow i come more to see How it is that people come to be, the ignorant who choose to be & make wide a divide that starts at an early age, economic background education & race, mindsets that result from a laziness and stubborn refusal to change from where change begins The good old boys who are stuck in an italian-american world of north jersey auto-repair, Where a fags a fag and thats that; So where am i at? Marco the fish monger, are you sure youre not just another drone, 1.99 for fish bones, fillet the striped bass, am i more than all that? read them books while you drink that coffee, dont sit quiet when you hear shit and sit silent Be concious of your privlege when you gut them fish, And dont take anything for granted Love life and be nice, accept change (in the tip jar of the world) and pump out the good vibes And even though its hard to remember sometimes amidst the scales & shrimp shells Youre just as important as everyone else
Cups of coffee drunk late beneath the familiar orange glow of a streetlight can save a life Is it the end of the world, Or just the night?
there’s a guy I work with who doesnt know when to keep his mouth shut, & sometimes he talks some stupid bullshit that makes me want to knock him on his ass. A friend told me to let it go, that hes still young, he has a lot to learn, And a lot can happen in 3 years.
A lot can happen in 3 years-
& i thought on that & I thought to myself That A lot can happen in 3 years, A lot can happen in 3 years- when Steve grew up, South Side Chicago, 14 years old & he’s a father, a lot can happen in 3 years 3 years to live, 3 years to learn, & time always has a toll and
nobody passes for free
Because i know that the gun was in brandon’s mouth When the cops showed up at his house, Flashing red & blue lights filling the dark room where he sat on a bed, Eyes closed & ready to live in 3. 2.
A lot can happen in 3 years, & i thought of Pedro who came from San Diego, used to bounce clubs & sling dope, small-time narcos, Until two of his friends Caught bullets in their heads, 20 years old & no amount of money is going to change that end-
A lot can happen in 3 years Is what i thought that night that we watched the Northern lights, shivering in underpants on a rusty fish cannery roof, No shirt & rubber boots, the men that lined the old railroad track, their heads leaned back & it was quiet, Those lights Showing us our past, & maybe for some Whats to come
A lot can happen in 3 years, thats true
but maybe I’ll punch him in the head tomorrow
& he’ll learn a thing or two.
life swirls in Styrofoam cups of coffee
drank in through cracked lips & yellowed teeth
life twinkles in the distance,
flashing red bulbs above cell towers
stared at from highways on nights without sleep.
life is in the smile Of a waitress in the diner,
3 am cigarrette break & tips are all she has-
life lives in the tears
of every single divorced dad.
the same life that lives in leftovers,
tupperwared & saran-wrapped,
comes out your other end in the piece of shit you shat.
life is in the bottles That you’d smash to pieces with your friend
And life is really what you make it,
you’ll find out in the end.
a little magic is gone from the world when
Eskimos doing blow
call women cunts in their tents,
blood-red eyes &
toothless grins
as they slap you on the back
& expect you to join in.
sometimes i sit alone At night in a tent
with me, myself & the smell of my own ball-sweat
critical thinking & adventures in solitude
love company sometimes, if only just a text-message
from another guy
books i’ve read
& thoughts ive kept
within my head
are hard to get out
when i dont want
to open my mouth
One time a woman told me
im a smart person
& those words brought tears to my eyes
which sometimes i squeeze Shut
& im in the Liberty Science Center in a sleeping bag
with a sleeping dad
6 years old & Jersey City couldnt be more magical
I open my eyes & im in a sleeping bag,
side of the highway
gravel crunches as i shift
its cold & i
squeeze my eyes again,
trying to get back-
i never thought that im smart, & i never said im brave
maybe i never said those things
because im really just afraid.
Lonely young American man Born & raised in American land
Hair gown long & skin is tan
born with the name American
sees the world through red, white,
blue
the land of the brave, the free,
the few.
you can hitchhike all night
in the land of the midnight sun
stick out a thumb and trust someone
but know that
women
dont hitchhike
on the Highway of Tears.
Marco mans a little lost Without the dinerboys and the union boss, Italian kids in leather jackets, parking lot nights & streetlights that glow through the dark of New Jersey, the stuff we used to know, The Cups of coffee and pretty girls we never spoke to, K-Mart crushes long gone, concrete basements where We shared dreams not drugs, and talked about the kids we graduated with, How somehow, some of them made it, Our worlds were so small And we never knew that the world was so big, We never knew that it didnt end at Manhattan But I guess nothings the same as it was except the tattoos & the scars, Cause chainlink fences come down, and people sell cars.
Sometimes I think though, How did i get here? Where’s the world I used to know? Cause the one I’m in is pretty big, and it’s easy to get lost.
Float like a Butterfly
sting like a bee-
his hands can’t Hit
what his Eyes can’t see
The greatest ever
in death now free
the brave the strong
Muhammad Ali
From my understanding of the Situation I’m the product of the George W. Bush Administration, The “Afraid of Iraq and Iran” War on Terror in Afghanistan New Generation of young men & women dying for old-man’s Wars, weapons of Massive destruction MASSIVE lies which led to lost lives, liberty, and the expansion of capitalism So now The NSA has my information, Jack up police militarization Across America, For a nation We see As exceptional, We Are Exceptionally racist, Founded on unrecognized Genocides Then built up high by the blood of Slaves, then institutionalized By policies and legislation woven in Intricately inseparably dividing People, Racial divide leaving scars that won’t Heal and open wounds as large as wealth gaps that still bleed, Don’t Shoot, Hands up, Black Lives Matter and so do Facebook shares and social media spreading information telling us This is Happening, This is Happening Woah This Is NOT OK ok? Media talking heads spit shit that make heads spin, the “BE Afraid, We ARE Afraid, Security, Security Fear Muslims Mexicans and The War on Drugs is a total success!” (pipe-lining poor people to privatized prison Systems Where they’re set up to fail So that the money keeps flowwwwwwing) And that’s Normal! Pharmeceutical cartels driving prices of pills uP While docters perscribe addictions, Corporate interest groups sitting in government seats & Lobbyists passing policies, WHAT UP CAPITALISM, YES The National defense budget is a trillion dollars per year and people are starving to death down the block and live lives in fear, Fear for their bodies and fear for their children, and THAT’s
a little bit fucked up to say the Least but normalized police presence and white supremacists running for president Are the world WE’RE living in, The one that’ll be inherited by the first children of the New Millennium (that’s me, that’s US) so stand UP Speak UP, poets and People, white Asian black Latino American people, Are we a product of what we’re seeing? Because we watched from New Jersey in 2001 when black smoke rose from Manhattan, and we saw invasions, followed by outsourced protection, charred Blackwater bodies hung over the Euphrates like ornaments, feeding this insecure countries little “complex”- I’m just not buying it USA, I don’t dig it- the definitions have to change with the times, see change BE change, America needs to answer it’s crimes, There are lives on the line America YOU DO NOT DEFINE
Me.
sad boys
live sad lives
in this sad town
in this sad world
with these sad wounds
that sadly won’t heal
with these sad smiles
and sad jobs
in this sad house
where even the walls cry.
will the pearly whites just slam shut
and stop that volatile spittle from spewing
i just dont have time to deal with your desires
your agenda is far from first
on the list of what matters at this moment to me
no one can pamper you
like a Mother can.
no one makes better mac and cheese;
or hot chocolate
just after you’ve come inside
from building a snow fort.
no one makes a better breakfast
on a lazy Sunday.
no one gives a better hug
than a Mother can.
no one gives better advice
when you don’t know what you’re doing
with your life.
no one is more comforting
when you’re having a rough day.
hell, No One else knows you well enough
to notice something was wrong.
I write songs with no music
I write hooks with no beat
I fly with no wings
I run with no feet
I drive with no wheels
Do you know how that feels?
I think with no brain
They call me insane
I swim with no air
I’m a broke millionaire
I act with no part
I end with no start
I love with no heart
That’s why I’m falling
apart
Here come the misunderstood youth of a divorced generation, those Punk-rockers and Diner Boys who reek like Weed with Dead Kennedys patches on their scraped-up knees, broken skateboards and broken families, with tupperware containers of cold tortellini and Long tangled hair with tattoos of N.J., crawling from Basements in Burbs with Blood-red eyes in search of Disco-fries and take Rides on the DeCamp 33 to set them free from everything their parents want them to be and See Brooklyn, They learned anatomy from back-wall pornography in Quick Stop or 7/11, And their words from Glenn Danzig, not Parents caring and summers spent in South Jersey skate parks where older kids Showed them what boges are, and how to Kick-flip. This is our Generation, where Violence raised us on glowing screens and the desert wars taught us to Hate and fear the government, a bunch of pussies in Suits who fuck up the Planet, and try to assassinate Ed Snowden. This is Our Generation, where we live in the America we didn’t create and don’t want, and the Old Ways are dying, and Something new will rise to fill their place
I heard someone say that the diner boys will never leave this town, and they’ll never make it much farther than the Hudson river line. It seems melodramatic to say but I know deep down that the cups of coffee and the late night laughs and the company they keep is just a way they use to escape being sad, and all they really want is some purpose, a life, a pretty girl to hold their hands at night, and motivation to change and to not just keep sliding back into those old habits and keep making those same fucking mistakes, again and again. And they joke and laugh about other kids and how much better they’ve got it figured out, but sometimes student loans and canoli cream make them want to scream and waitresses who seem 60 (when we know they’re 40) make them think with unspoken concern that Maybe someday that’s us, with a useless degree and debts they can’t pay and the government making it 90 dollars a day just to walk in the doors of Saint Barnabas, woah- The last of the boomers rode the American victory in Europe all the way to Iraq, where there are no victories any more. Now there’s just kids with brain damage who can’t sleep right at night, and have trouble trusting people so they can’t find the jobs, just end up divorced or move to Maine or someplace to try to dull the pain, New world order, for the scared and uncertain future of the diner boys who drown themselves every night in cups of hot brown coffee and small-town gossip and big-world news, and everyday the New York Times tells them They’re bound to lose, and so they say that maybe Someday they’ll become an actor or maybe a farmer, move to LA and Get away from New Jersey, Those diner boys have got it all figured out- the world is a psychopath, and if you don’t laugh you end up sad, but even they have to leave the diner sometime, and go back home where nothing’s all right and money is tight and it’s not very funny At all. I heard someone say They let the animals out of the cages at night in the Bronx, And Lions and Apes stalk the dark streets in Fordham. It was probably a joke, but it made me think, whatever will become of those diner boys who love the rain and Hate to go back home? Will they make it somehow, and find a way to survive those wild and lonely nights, where the Animals are loose and dreams can seem
kind of stupid.
Three best friends
down Louisiana
This is it,
the Kali Yuga
I Close my Eyes
and Hallelujah-
I don’t want to die tonight,
not now,
not yet.
take me out of my head
just for a few hours
a few minutes
anything, really.
stop the racing
thoughts of inadequacy
that constantly badger me.
i guess that’s what drugs are for
but they don’t seem like the answer,
not this time at least.
a temporary solution
to this permanent beast.
Breath in deep and sleep on your back in prairie-grass beneath the Milky Way’s cloudy arms in Wisconsin, and don’t EVER look back East to New Jersey, just keep moving, Running, Hiding in boxcars and rail-road yards, Two tattoos, One for each hand, As I Plunge my way deeper Into the Heartland, Savage Indian screams and axle-grease War-paint, Long hair matted down Over desperate scared face, Taste Blood and fear, and the immeasurable loneliness of sleeping on the side of a Minnesota highway.
So Here’s your American dream, So Don’t you Let it slip away; The Rocky Mountains are much colder When you got no place to stay. There’s a code of the road, for every beaten traveler, But Tonight the Pennsylvania Turnpike is the only thing that matters Escaping West to Ohio’s chest the wandering American will find a way
to Avalon.
Billy walked to his death
and held his head high.
He knew no matter what Judge said
he never told no lie.
He never did shoot that boy,
he wasn’t there that night.
He never did pull the trigger,
he didn’t start no fight.
Now Billy spent the last 4 years
stuck inside a cage.
Barely any sunlight,
only room for rage.
He didn’t let that get him down,
“In my mind I’m free.
I know that I’m innocent,
no matter what they do to me.”
Young Billy walked to his death
and held his head high.
He knew no matter what Judge said
he never told no lie.
Now they tried to say Billy
was a cold and callous killer.
It worried Bill so much,
he could barely eat his dinner.
Billy never hurt no one
he could barely squash a fly,
he was ‘fraid of the charges
and what they could imply.
It was his word against the dead
He knew he stood no chance
They were gonna do away with Billy
without a second glance.
So Billy walked to his death
and held his head high.
He knew no matter what Judge said
he never told no lie.
Billy had one goal today,
to go and die with pride.
He stiffened up that upper lip
and lengthened up his stride.
He walked to the table
and began to shake,
for he knew this was the last time
he’d ever be awake.
So Billy walked to his death
and held his head high.
They killed Billy that day
in the heat of July.
Let’s go down, down
Where the Rats crawl around,
in the forgotten tunnels and dusty places
Let’s go down, down underground
to the lonely concrete holes and rusty spaces
Let’s squeeze in-between
The infrastructure’s cracks,
gnaw at wires with our Teeth
and always watch our backs.
Let’s slide away into the pipes
and I’ll show you a world
you’ve never seen.
Let your hair grow long
and join the pack
of sinister secrecy.
Dark passages and corridors,
with candles to show us the way
Through this light-less world of marauders and mischief
where we don’t know the touch of day.
Off their fear and conformity
We the Few grow putrid and fat;
what they’re really afraid of
is themselves, Because
Everybody Wants
to be a Rat.
Well I never thought I was lonely
until I looked her in the eye
and I never thought I needed her
till she said goodbye
and I never thought I was broken
until she helped me heal
and I never knew comfort
like the way she made me feel
and I never knew scared
until my father died
and I never did cry
I guess I had too much pride
please don’t go
to Florida
Where we can’t hang out every day.
It’s stupid and dumb
in Florida
and I don’t want you to go away.
Get up
Fuck up
7 am
You’re late
Get dressed
Get nervous
Get stressed
downstairs
mom yells
Lucas cries
says he tries
but he’s
been tellin lies
and She’ll deal with it
when we get home.
Hot tears
cheeks still stinging
wet
outside
Freezing air
burns lungs
Nic drives
Music on
but we have to wait,
Amir’s late, and
We can’t leave home
without him.
Pick up
Justin K
on the way,
Silent car ride,
Lucas
is afraid
7:40
we arrive
mean stares
teacher glares
Marco’s got
Gay long hair
Sleeps in class
doesn’t pass
any of his tests.
Where’s your homework
phone-call home,
FUCK
knots in stomach
swimming head
when mom gets home
I’m fucking dead.
11:00 cafeteria
Faggot
pussy
fucking gay-ass
bitch
Lunch tastes like
nervousness
Sit with friends
and chew the food,
watch the clock
hear what’s new
Then back to class
filled with dread
go tear up
and breath
in bathroom stalls
Walk the halls
for half an hour
talk with Chris
(he makes
me smile)
Then when finally
that last bell rings
over the evening
Announcements,
Walk around
In the town
with Lisa Fitz
for as long as I can
4 o’clock
then she sighs
We both realize
we’ve got to go back home
Mumble words
seeyadumarrow
And then the
parting ways.
In the back door
try to sneak
but mom is waiting
in the kitchen
oh no
Shit
Fuck
FUCK
out of luck
No friends
No going to
the Brehne’s party
Your life
is Over.
Run upstairs
text message
romance
long-distance
girlfriend on
the telephone
7:00
Dad is home
uncomfortable dinner,
Mimi cooked
(always seems to be
pea-soup and ham
on nights like tonight.)
Long shower
almost an hour
then go and sit
in Lucas’ room.
11:30 out the window,
Rooftop vigil
sit and think
and watch the cars roll by
Maybe cry
Those high-school days
sure were savage,
but when the weekend came,
and it was finally over,
we
Ruled the World.
Somebody please
Take me back
to the Garden State,
cause it’s gettin
late And I really wanna
get outta this place.
cause Life’s so nice
when you got long hair
and you smile,
cause then nobody thinks
you’re sad
and you’re scared
or that you’re runnin away like a child.
They say, Hey
That Marco’s got it
all figured out,
he’s full with love
and fulla laughs.
he don’t get bothered
by the shit he sees,
he runs up and down
the West coast
makin friends
and huggin trees.
Then they say
O wouldn’t it be easier
If I could just be him?
then Marco can smile
for a little while
and say Boy
where do we begin?
Hey America, it’s me again, and I’m not so sure if you can hear me. I’ve been giving you all I’ve got, Can I get a little something back? Cause I’m trying real hard to believe that the Dream is still alive but Holy shit is it getting hard to survive, America please, show me a sign, Because I’m standing here with shaking hands clinging to the promise of your brave free land, But here I am Barely holding on, What’s happening, America? Are you there, do you care, What happened to my dad in Vietnam? why did the mall just lay off my mom, What’s going on, America? Why am I working every day For 8 dollars an hour pay, why isn’t there good food to eat, and I’ve got friends who sleep on the street in Seattle America? Come on, America! Give me Something to believe in, because it’s getting so hard, Fuck! I got a brother who graduated college and works for ihop trying to pay off student debt (he wants to kill himself, and his friend already did) America, what happened in Iraq? When is Jenna going to get her leg back, America? Why won’t she smile like she used to do, America Show your face, where are you? America are you hiding behind the closed casinos in Atlantic City, are you in the thousand miles of Minnesota corn that once was prairie? America, I’m trying to be brave But it’s getting Harder every day, Because I’m afraid you aren’t there And I can’t keep looking forever, America, My world is falling apart, Where are you, America! The system isn’t working, We’re pushing titanic problems unresolved beneath the carpet, Oh my God America, the Nation that Rests on the blade of knife above an abyss of lies, the gun-drunk Bible-clutching gasoline-loving Consumption flooding Empire of greed, built on the weak and fueled by Methamphetamine, America, the pre-conceived The facade of success, The We’re the best, the Talking heads, America, The frontier of the West, the screams of New York City are the cries of those poor Apaches who never did make it back to New Mexico, America…come on and show me, just a glimpse is all I need, Because America, please trust me, I truly want to believe…
grab a pen
write it down
let your heart
fill up with sound
shout it loud
say it proud
say it one thousand
words per hour.
fill the air
with your breath
the voice you own
that baritone
yell it out
have no doubt,
“This is what
I’m all About!”
I met a man from LA
who told me he’d lived off the grid-
he gave me a hint
on how to survive
and he called it
the old fruit trick:
You carry a fruit
and when picked up,
you slice it in halves
with your knife
(make sure the driver sees
the steel)
before you offer him a bite.
Then the man laughed as he smoked his cigarette,
and told me be careful where I tread-
there’s a code to the road,
and if you don’t learn quick
you end up shot or dead.
stickin out thumbs
ain’t for fun,
and there’s danger out
in Oregon
but the Heartland calls
and the misfits go
just know
that hitchin
is a lonely business.