This is from a band called NO MEANS NO that I saw a couple of times in the early 90's. My friend Stan was hanging out at the venue during the day and the band was there. Stan overheard that they needed a place to stay so the band spent the night at Stans and Burces' smoking pot and telling jokes. They had steak and eggs for breakfast. Bruce was so excited to tell us his luck to have them stay with him, he said, "So you see, they are light partiers and not vegetarian like we once thought!"

"Even in this madness we will survive."

So I was laying on the grass last night and I was
staring up at the sky and I saw three distinct flases of light.
I gazed up and a voice came out of the sky saying, "everything you need to
know is written outside of the 711 on 500 N and University Ave." So I rushed
down there and arrived with such anticipation that I had to go in and
get a 44 oz DIet Coke and a pack of Ho Ho's. I went outside and looked down in
front of me and it was written, "Do not trust any one behind a taco cart
for the next three and a half months."

Your eyes are like colliding tractor trailers driven by lone gunman.

I attend the cathedral in the alley of 51st and St. Washington,
People walk by, of the Mass unknowingly occurring,
Incense rides the air from the man hole in the street,
shattered Heineken bottle vomits sunlight upon the wall creating a broken cross
one of the followers has drawn with chalk, next to "Bob Lackey was here."
Pigeons stop and stare sensing the spirit of the congregation of castaway, broken men sleeping off the night before, occasionally wetting themselves and yet remaining holy followers of the faith.
Sometimes I, when I have it, I give a dollar to the plate. but always a bended knee to the cross.



Ever since the latest Linkin Park album came out last year I have always skipped two songs. They were in protest of the current administration. I would find myself tense and angry and afraid. Today was the first day that I have listened to those songs with a wonderful sense of pride and optimism. We finally did it friends!

I want to take you into my arms and tighten so you will know someone is there
I want to show you my scars
I want to shake you
I want to take you to the natural history museum and show you the mastodon
I want to cut myself in front of you to see if you are real
I want to collect a little bit of the blood to put in a vial so you have something to hang from your rear view mirror
I want to scare you just to tell you everything will be alright
I want to stare into your eyes and see if I can get them to dialate just by thinking about it
I want to stay up just to watch you sleep
I want you to live

I stare at the ceiling through the shadows

and yet I can make out the nightmare, just enough to

remind me of all the sins that I have committed in my mind.

where are you my friend, we have been here before and

your reach is the only thing real, but, that was yesterday

and I'm sorry I don't believe in myself anymore

I'm walking down the street, the concrete molds around my feet like shallow quicksand, I can feel everything that has occurred here before, step by step.
I step over the area that has been thrown up on, several times, I feel the asault, the cars screaming by, everyone that has spit on this piece of newspaper that floats almost as a protest to gravity, to the street itself.

am i insane or just unemployable?

the night covers, the city lights burn

sitting, watching the water flow into the gutters

the wind carries a newspaper, floats by like the ghost of a lost friend

its funny, I can feel the concrete surging with life underneath me

if I put my finger in the crack I know its alive and that underneath me is the heart, the generator

its just like me

i feel out
i am considering bleeding myself to get rid of it
just like they did in the 1800"s
i am going to put leeches on my heart


it's not that easy to be free
don't concern yourself with reality
because
we will sleep forever

wake from this dream

it was the Summer of '89 I lost myself
now there is this summer always within me
never to turn
even in the winter I burn with a beautiful nightmare inside
would somebody please put a pin in me to let it out

Matisyahu Summerfest 2008-06-30t01 Escape

your average night:
punching holes in the ceiling
screaming myself to sleep
tied to the sheets
would you come for me
because i can't stand all the lies
i've been telling myself
there has to be more than one way out
send in everything you've got
because the sun is going down

In my mind it's just a hall of mirrors

I can't tell where anything begins or ends or if its a

reflection of all the pain I see from outside

it comes in and then I will never be able to

get rid of it, it just keeps bouncing like a cruel

dance and I can't do anything but watch again

a again

Its like being inside of a raging storm

totally blinded. all you know is that it hurts

its so strange to freeze on the outside

I stare at the screen when it's all snowy and fuzzy
I try to read it
it's a lot like staring at a face
I was never good at it
I try to decipher the message,
it tells me to, over and over again,
it doesn't want me to stop, to ignore everybody that
thinks that I'm crazy,
it wants me to know that I am the only one,
that nobody understands
it tells me to strike

The city is severed into sections of ally and street

it's like a waffle, only

instead of syrup running,

it's blood.

From the inside:

that ghetto basketball court that once entertained

man and boy alike,

the gutter that emitted the smell, you know the one,

the statue of the person that you don't' know who the hell it is and that birds have

insulted for years,

the installment of a cop, who is not a man but an instrument,

a discarded needle,

homeless, in body and mind

its' all there, ready to step into

It's like driving through the desert
only it's at night and there is this pillar of light that is spilling out on to the
road in front of you, it's mesmerizing how it reflects off of the lines painted. you increase your speed to attempt to catch it but it only seems to get further away
I was once told that we must live our lives honestly;
however, I think it's just enough to have a little faith

If I could just make you feel

Tourist

Let's move down to the precidio.
I'll pack my hunting knife
we can move about the city at night
I wish that I could find you among the cans and bottles meant to be recycled
I don't know
sometimes I think I''ll be searching forever

Matisyahu Saved My Life

I have found a lot of inspiration from this man. He was born under the name of Matthew Paul Miller. As a young man he found inspiration in Bob Marley and reggae music. His parents sent him to Jerusalem when he was young. He came back with a interest in Judaism, converting the the Orthodox sect and entered Yeshiva in the Crown Heights section of Brooklyn. He took the Hebrew name of Matthew which is Matisyahu.With a few friends that he found there they

formed a band. They had humble beginnings playing for Rabbis. They toured for a year and put out a live album called "Live at Stubbs." Remarkably it climbed the charts. They continued to tour and discovered that their blend of rock and reggae resonated in the hearts of a cross culture fan base. Jewish kids as well as hippies and Rastas came to all the shows.

Even though we have come from complete opposite poles on the music spectrum I find a lot of myself in Matis's music. I too had a sorted past and have become religious. Although our religions, once again, find themselves on two spectrum's. Matisyahu has taught me that we, and all of us, have too many things in common to call ourselves "different." Matis doesn't preach because he feels that preachers often feel that they have a corner on the truth and they want everyone else to recognize it. I have learned through his lyrics that everything on Earth has a spiritual charge or spark. I will try to see the world and its people with that same outlook. I feel like the pasts that we came from may have been dark but now we see the light, it's the same light.

Amazing Grace

You know, all this talk of the punk rock days and times that I have lived alone I don't want to paint the picture of that that is all there is to me or my life. Although fascinating, to me at least, there is a lot more positive things going on in my life at the moment. I don't want those times to really cast a negative shadow on what I am today. I live a full life, better than it has ever been. Although plagued with the occasional heartbreak, for example last week being told that I severely messed up my knee and requiring a MRI and a scope, I find that life always mixes things up but that if you are true it all ends up being a blessing. I have lived some desperate times. Times that frankly and literally keep me up at night. The thoughts of where I could have ended up and things that could have easily happened are terrifying. I have spent years in fear. The only reason that I survived is God and I am just frankly thrilled he has kept me around this long. There are things that I love here on Earth that is worth keeping around for. One of them is my wife Natalie and furry daughter Cocoa who always does the unexpected. I love music and food. I also love the continuing saga of Heidi Montague. Life now is kind of like surfing. God is the wave and if you can manage to stay on the board you are in for quite a ride. I want to hear your story so tell me. Find your own wave.

It's Time to Face What You Most Fear

So in 1991 I had come out of having a lot of problems and I moved up to Salt Lake city to be closer to my spiritual guide. I was thrilled. I had lived outside of the nest before but this was going to be my first place alone. I recall driving down 1st avenue in Salt Lake and looking at a studio a block away from downtown. I was coming apart with excitement and satisfaction that I had finally become independent. I would be paying the bills and dealing with a land lord. To describe the place, it wasn't much. It was one large room with vomit colored carpet and a walk in closet and small kitchen. After seeing the place for the first time my friend Lance suggested to not have any razor blades lying about in case you flow with the ambiance and cut yourself. The first night was an experience. The radiator made what I would affectionately call "The African drum montage." It created this very loud banging noise. In fear of it exploding I slept ion the ground in the walk in closet. This lasted months. I then gathered courage and moved up to the roll away bed. The box springs felt great. Did I mention that a mattress was not provided. I found that my spine felt rather comforting directly in between two rows of metal springs. I lived here for nine months. The winter was brutal. Cold. I met a lot of interesting people that shared the building. I met one fellow named Eric who was rather insane. I first ran in to him on my floor where he was conveniently tripping on acid and nearly destroying the screen door in the process. Later he would chew glass and show me how he could stand on his head. Some of Eric's roommates tore apart the coin operated washer in the basement and bought cigarettes with the quarters.

Speedway, I Owe You

So my friend Walter took me to my first hardcore / punk show in the summer of 89. I just remember as we came closer and closer to the venue I grew more and more unsure. The place was called The Speedway Cafe and it sat under the 500 s via duct in SLC. As I got a good look at the place it seemed unreal. It looked like the largest band of society's filth huddled near the door to a small warehouse. We got and stood in line with the band of misfits, bless their hearts, and I just had a little prayer in my heart that the guy with the seven inch mohawk didn't kick by balls up into my throat area. There were conversations occuring such "Let me hold your hair back while you vomit honey." Once we got in I was a little reassured. The walls were entirely covered by flyers of bands that had previously played there. It was quite a pantheon of punk rock. All the heavy hitters were there. Inside the place was a little deli, if you can believe it, which served punk foodstuffs, and then there was a narrow enterance to the holy of holies; the stage area which consisted of a concrete room with a three foot stage. Pretty much indestructible. The opening band was called Verbal Assult and they took music to a level I had previously not realized was possible. The funny thing is that later in 92 I would see their second to last show ever in Washington DC. Kids were flying everywhere and pretty much going ape shit. I couldn't believe my eyes. I knew that this would become a big part of my life. I would attend the Speedway Cafe regulary for the rest of its existence. Many national bands had their beginnings there. i saw Soundgarden the first time they came with about 100 other people. An interesting thing happened at that show. The bouncers at Speedway were as hard and bad ass as they come and believe me they were not shy about using their Mag Lite on your head if you disrupt the homogenic vibe. Yeah, that's like handing out speeding tickets at the Nascar 500. Anyway, One bouncer put his Mag Lite on a kids head during Soundgarden's set. The manager of Soundgarden didn't appreciate this and came out and fully bitched out the bouncer. Well the crowd had had it to, they were chanting "pussy, pussy!" I saw the bouncer's life pass in front of his eyes. If he somehow got sucked into the crowd it would be like a fat cow trying to fend off a school of prannahs. He immeaditly apologized to the kid and then he and the manager gave each other a big and sentimental hug. The crowd clapped their approval. One of the most fascinating things about the Speedway was the crowd waiting to get in. One of my favorites were the Nazi skinheads selling LSD. They were always a great installment. The Nazis were always up to shenanigins. One thing they would do was called the chicken slam. This involved one Nazi sitting a top his partners shoulders and basically running around the slam / mosh pit trying to dethrone the other Nazis doing the same thing. One time my Hippie friend, Mark, discovered the show to DRI was sold out and his ride was already in the show so he had to wait it out smoking pot with the Nazis under a bridge abutment. Speaking of hippies, they had to really check themselves as to why they were there. I remember a punk addressing a hippie casually as "You hippie" right before breaking his nose.

It looks like I picked the wrong day to go vegan.

True Story

Leaving the club. Sliding the key into the slot. Justin drunk. Entering State Street in SLC. listening to Handsome. The lights above us cascade on the roof of the car like a black and grey evolving tapestry. Justin would later take his own life.

It's like being trapped inside of an abandoned refrigerator.
The air gets thinner and thinner but I will never die
People who walk by hear the screaming and say
"Hey there is somebody trapped in that refrigerator"
But no one will open it

Magic Bus

My father is a security guard at the new Las Vegas City Center construction site. We got a call last thursday that there had been some sort of accident. We didn't get the whole story for some hours later. We looked at a Las Vegas news website and discovered that several people were in critical condition. It turned out that my father just let his friend off for lunch and a tour bus lost control and careened in to my dad's guard shack. That was a rough 20 minutes staring at the monitor thinking of how to live my life without my father and even worse breaking it to my 30 year old sister with downs. Everything turned out to be better than expected and my father got away with a pelvis fractured in three places, requiring no surgery. We all flew down this weekend and he was in good spirits. I think the hardest part was listening to one of my father's co workers describe the accident and telling us that when he arrived on the scene my father was screaming in pain. I just don't know how to deal with that. It's hard to think about. Life is surreal at times, time slowing down, connection with things you wish weren't there. Sometimes reality is too uncomfortable to deal with so we make up a new one until the time is right, I just don't know when that time is.

Those Rare Moments

My purpose in writing on this thing is based on the hope that I can touch you in some way. If I could just reach you on an intellectual or emotional level. That is the purpose of all my poetry. I would love any comments from anybody just to know that there is somebody out there reading. Please tell me what you are into, especially music or art. It would just be really great to connect with people I would otherwise have no idea about. I am very interested in whoever you are.