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Surrender for this man is essential for future understanding.

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As important as it is to be informed, it’s just as important, if not of further importance to distinguish between what information you allow in and what information you choose to put out.

Feeling pain is not an excuse to cause another pain.

Feeling slighted is not an excuse to slight another person.

The news and media are valuable resources to acquire current information but the information gained from the news and media is not an excuse to promote ignorance and intolerance—or for lack of a better metaphor: one side of the coin—without further, more definitive research.

I don’t claim to know everything and I have come to terms with the fact that I never will.

I’m no a saint.

There has and always has been social injustice and sorrow in the world and I can’t change that. All I can do is choose a righteous path towards consciousness.

Consider this.

The anteater will eat ants to survive as the hawk will hunt ground squirrels and field mice. The spider will spin a web to catch the fly. The fly will feast on feces to survive. The feces will decompose into the soil and a tree will grow.

Nature always finds a way.

Human nature is an entirely different phenomenon.

It’s a common theme between civilizations to find balance and order between extremes. Love and hate. Fear and faith. War and peace.

Each and every day this phenomenon is in question—human nature. The hawk does not see the field mouse as a hawk. The hawk sees the field mouse as prey. The field mouse does not see the insect as a field mouse. It sees it as prey.

Nature operates without question.

It is human nature to ask why. It is human nature to consider the consequences of our action. It is human nature to consider what is right, wrong, and just, then decide.

Either way, the tree will grow.

Either way, the prey will die.

I’m not asking for you or I to be a saint, I’m just asking you to consider another way, a way in which I’m sure you deal with like I, each and every single day.

What I suggest we all consider is this: walk gently, and spread love.

Love is a universal concept.

Hate is a creation of the mind as a defense mechanism.

Hate, is a creation of man.

With all the information that history, news, and media has so far presented us with, what’s stopping us from immediately choosing love as a means to an end of irrational hatred which like wild fire spreads without care or concern or reason?

Tonight I’ll lay my head down, as tomorrow I’ll rise and move forward with peace, love, and understanding.

And it will be easy because I’ve chosen to surrender.

Taken out of context, the idea of surrender is often considered as a form of defeat but not in this case.

The battle has already been won, so when we realize there was never a battle to be fought, surrender to this man is essential for future understanding.

Like Wicker Passed Round Midnight’s Mass

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I dare not blame the 14 Hands

for feelings I have felt

Where midnight and I meet

the moon’s shadow can’t dispel

In daylights saving grace

I justly feel that I have felt

like wicker passed round midnight’s mass

each hand is doleful dealt

Her guiding light

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What I cannot see

in the dark of night

within myself

is another’s plight,

she finds me there

her guiding light

my luminance

in the dark of night.

Leaves they fall in autumn

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Everyone has problems

More elaborate than my own

Like these they fall in autumn

Their limbs are all exposed

I want to tell them something

Assure they’re not alone

Still leaves they fall in autumn

Sometimes to live you’ve got to die.

Some say the world’s worth saving

Some say we’ll never know

Like a corn cob pipe and button

Left in the melting snow

A fireplace can warm you

For a while from the cold

Still a child holds his coal eyes

And now he knows.

It’s not his fault that his friend must go

Either way he’s gonna cry

You’re beautiful so it’s logical

This season’s just a state of mind

If I could save you, you know I would

But even I know that’s a lie

See summers change and then grow cold

It’s no longer up to me to decide

An all too common feeling

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I can’t explain the reason

I end up in this place

Each page another season

Aware there is no race

The end of new beginnings

Perhaps I’ll save some face

An all too common feeling

This one I can’t explain

At times it leaves me reeling

At times it leaves me faint

At times it can be healing

Most times it’s a disgrace

Perhaps what leaves me stuck in

This all too common place

Are shadows in this doorframe

The one’s I can’t erase

leaving only the snakeskin they’re worth.

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Look at whoever

made you feel inferior

misplaced or intolerable

and ask yourself:

Whose burden do they carry?

Then remind yourself:

That weight is not meant for you.

Now tell whoever

made you feel inferior

misplaced or intolerable

you love them

And watch:

Their puzzled concern, still only for themselves.

Then walk away

leaving only the snakeskin they’re worth.

Manhattan’s in the Village

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You know what they say, don’t yuh?

Can’t live with em, can’t live without em

But don’t get me twisted, I’m not talking about women

though the skin beneath my tongue’s still sore

my heart’s still heavy and well

there’s nothing quite like seeing her smile come morning

but anyway like I was saying to this jug of doom

in the evening gloom where I choose not one but two

and then two more to boot because, well, hell

who am I kidding? Nobody but the moon this evening

cause it’s this bitter sweet feeling

the kind you feel deep down in the rumbling, stumbling night

where it all gets so far gone, where nothing meaningful is born

where it all makes some sort of convoluted sense

and alas, once again I am but the floorboards dull creak

where I am like the riverbed flowing calmly and discrete

where life is but a dream and I am dreaming once again

of you dear friend, rustling like the leaves at my front door.

Oh dear friend, how I long to walk the beach again.

How I long to hear your sick, silly, sweet voice again

like those long ago up all Friday nights of old

all those Brooklyn winter blue’s and yellow streetlights

guiding us home, or at least to Crown Fried Chicken where

like two youthful bums we’d scavenge our pockets for change

enough to buy a couple chicken wings, coke, and pint

enough to settle the bone, cold, sidewalk snow till home

where we’d fall arm and arm up stairs

to that old wood, smoke filled, railroad apartment you’d call Grove.

And though I don’t often pray, in my own little way

I do for you now as I did then, driving back to my Long Island apartment.

I pray this little song of self, this little song of you, this small token of my appreciation

for your boundless soul and effortless style and class.

I ate too much cheese, I’d shout while holding a kitchen knife to my throat!

Where in a Polaroid our youth is kept,

where so many nights while you slept I wept,

where you’d give me your bed for a smile,

where I’d talk with Forest about everything and nothing for a while,

long enough not to feel alone in that maddening, crazy New York glow.

So I write this little poem, not enough but enough to show you

I’m still listening through the terror behind the walls.

Dear friend,

How are you?

I can’t live with you, but hell, I can’t live without you.

Manhattan’s in the Village

God knows we never had the scratch, aligned

I feel inclined to take this time and offer you my best

impression not impressed?

CALL ME SPIDER! CALL ME SPIDER!

I just had to get these salami’s off my back.

I just had to sing this short praise of you Mac.

the bridge to Angel Valley

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I set my intention

crossed the bridge to Angel Valley

unknowing of what was to come

but fully away of what I was leaving behind

I stood grounded, cool and calm

released of all tension

as if a lifetime had come undone.

It’s there I let go

of all those old ways of being

shed that snake skin feeling

and came back from beyond the pine

into that crystalline light

of my own healing.

infinite visions.

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This feeling hangs like ancient fog

over tree limbs lined by new day dawn

where single filed ants march on

the air is still as new born fawn.

His heart beats infinite visions.

Cupid’s always looking in

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This life’s a beautiful disaster penned one summer long ago

I mean who was I kidding just a kid on the East Coast

So I took my car and drove off found myself out on the road

I was so sure I was different but so scared of letting go

Had this girl her name was pure like it was written in the stars

I first met her in the backseat of my good friends mother’s car

And I don’t quite know how it happened tangled alone in the dark

But she showed me true compassion for a badly broken heart

And if you ever saw the way her fingers danced upon my hand

Love’s an infinite reminder I just couldn’t understand

She was beautiful regardless of the way things had to end

I’m just happy to have seen her grown and happy as a friend

Somewhere before and after I had lost my innocence

Was a child when I said come on let’s go what’s happening

Like a judge biting my tongue so long held on to my defense

Till one day it all poured out like a volcano from my head

You talk too much don’t talk enough try this paper and pen

I think that it’ll help to write it down is what she said

And of course guess what it happened but this time in a kitchen

We were kindred drunk and carefree at first sight I do admit

I wasn’t looking for a lover in retrospect needed a friend

But that’s the way it happens Cupid’s always looking in

When she took me without question I knew something had to give

Had more talent in her pinky than I swear I ever did

And she tried hard to convince me I was good at fitting in

Still my anger got the best of me and then the fear to live

See it took 6 months of depression just to make one decision

I would have should have could have now son that’s no way to live

I thought if I just disappear perhaps I’d be no one’s burden

But learned life is a disaster that you somehow have to live

So I packed my bags one day and gave myself unto the wind

Hell I’ve been kicking rocks forever so I’m hella used to it

See there’s no way of ever knowing how tomorrow’s gonna end

You just get up brush your hair and then go do it again

Still love’s an infinite reminder I’ve tried so hard to understand

It always makes more sense when you’re left with empty hands

Like a psychic I am reading all the lines riddles and man

I can see it all so clearly first accept yourself and then

Maybe you get lucky one day in Central Park

Or perhaps while spilling coffee on a stranger after dark

There’s a reason for each season as one ends one’s soon to start

It only takes a moment kiddo ready on your mark