Mental Train

Aisle 9

2009-12-14T12:05:00.001-08:00

It's 3 am and I'm at the 24-hour Supercenter doing my grocery and I think about capitalism, transactions both legal and illegal, consumers and liars, and false flag operations. I think about how one aisle can have so many choices, options: the gift of a democratic society, and wonder how many of these products came from the fields and factories picked, proccessed, and packaged by calloused hands, or robots, or robotic humans. This well-oiled machine hurling canned jalapenos at 90 mph on to the shelves of your local suburban grocery store. I think about this system of supply and demand. I think about farm-to-market roads, drivers hopped up on three pots of coffee crossing state borders, on the same stretch of highway as drug dealers supplying the demand. I then think about Cesar Chavez, farmers getting screwed over by Eastcoast Harvard grads who don't know anything about hardwork, soil, crops, or herding cattle. I think about land grabbing, I think of villages being bulldozed to make room for oil pipes. I think about oil economics, warfare, corpses of civilians. I think about left-wing neo-hippies and right-wing racists, and how no matter which side of the coin lands facing up, you still lose the bet. I think of conveyor belts working without rest to bring my money back into the Treasury, and I think about how this world runs on rectangular pieces of cotton with no value, and that money is what America's made of because it was African slaves that paved the foundation of this nation after our forefathers were done writing about it. I think about dollar bills with cocaine residue on the surface. I think about modern-day slavery, human trafficking, invisible drug wars, and how the seeds we spit out grow into opium buds. I think about terrorist organizations, organized crime, and politicians high-fiving each other behind iron curtains. I think about men of power and the rest of us, the people, the mass, the backbone of this civilization. I think about the immigrant working day and night for 3 dollars an hour. I think about struggles and revolutions, and how so much of the Earth has been stolen from us. I think about the anger, hatred, ferocity, and frustrations of the everyman and every struggling single mother compressed into a neutron star, then packaged into a can of lima beans. I think about heirarchy, the master-slave dialectic, and the college kids going into an uncertain future with multi-thousand dollar debts and two diplomas. I think about self-checkout lanes and human-machine interaction, I think about DIY, punk rock, hip-hop being pimped by old white men who have never been to the Bronx. I reflect on all these thoughts as I walk out the grocery store, until I realize that I forgot to get the milk...Fuck!

Terracide

2009-11-25T10:46:00.001-08:00

It rains everyday and yet there's no life in this waterworld. Brother, what can you see from up there? Do you see my lifeless body floating onto the shores of Atlantis? The screaming came first, then the bullets. We were too arrogant and abrasive, applying Vietnam War logic, and look how that turned out. We weren't meant to rule this world. Even kings and queens are descendants of slaves. It all happened fast, but good things don't last. The next inhabitants will claim our homes as theirs, one day. Until then, brain-clouds will fill the skies--gray matter sporadically exerting electrical charges. Shh, God is thinking. There's no point. All is dead and gone. Let's not make a scene and disturb the departed. Toss a coin into the planet from the space station. Wish well.

Interreality Travel Adventures

2009-10-13T12:51:00.000-07:00

I'm swimming in a sea of tattered notebook pages; each one filled with every word I've uttered in my dreams. I once spoke to a shaman in a fictional Arizona desert and he told me that everything will start to make sense once I throw everything I though I knew out the window. I once fell in-love with a girl in my dream. After I awoke, my heart still pounded my ribs like a percussionist gone mad. I haven't seen the girl since, and I worry that this might affect future relationships with androids. The inner-walls of my cranium must be perfectly white because I seem to project the most vivid films in my head. And sometimes, I can't tell if I'm just an audience member or an actor. Whenever I get lost in different realities, I flip a coin to see if I'm inside or out. Sometimes, the coin transforms into a flying saucer in mid-air, and that's when I know that I'm definitely in the 53rd realm.

Until Then

2009-08-25T07:20:00.000-07:00

My mind escaped from its lair late last night. Only steel shackles and broken chains remain in my cranium. How empty my soul feels without a pistol in its hand. The inconsistency of life is not an annoyance at all once you've learned to be your own captain. No direction is the wrong direction because the entire galaxy is my home and I love lying down on a bed of stars watching Hollywood stars burn out. One day, my intelligence will come back to me like a son returning to his parents' home after a disastrous tour of the big city. By then, I hope I will finally have something true to say.

The Eye of God

2009-08-19T14:19:00.000-07:00

I'm running across the valley, flanked by two mountain ranges. The sky--it's so blue! Clear and free of blackheads and acne. Sometimes I envy my red kite because it's closer to God than I ever will be. But I also mock it for it's a slave; a dog attached to my palm. What is freedom? An illusion? I take sips of sweet iced-tea and I find myself captivated by the taste, the ecstasy that shrouds me like the ghost of my grandmother embracing me on a hot Texas Summer day. I am a slave to time and money. I am the servant of the Capitalist Machine, even when I am made to think that I'm an important player in the game. I just want to run and run and run until I reach the center of the Milky Way galaxy. It resembles the eye of a hurricane, but pitch black. Or is it the eye of God? If so, I want to know His soul. Maybe it's a cosmic well. A rabbit hole, perhaps, that will take me to Neverland? The only way to find out is to dive in headfirst.

Eight-Thousand Light Years Away

2009-08-17T10:16:00.000-07:00

I was on a spaceship bound for a newly-discovered star system when the Sun told me, "Son, you're headed in the wrong direction." Fuck! I exclaimed. And so I tried to reverse but I crashed into a planet where the inhabitants were living in a primitive society, and they thought that I was their god. I told them that I was but a mere Space Cowboy. They looked confused as if I spoke a foreign tongue, which I guess I did. Nevertheless, the chief brought me to a large hut and offered me his daughter, but I declined her virgin vagina and told her that my heart belongs to Paris. And that's when I realized that I was 8,000 light years away from her...Then, I woke up, back in Stafford, Texas U.S.A. and though she lives 10-minutes away--she's further from me now than when I was in my deep space dream.

Ahriman

2009-07-22T07:07:00.001-07:00

The black seed inside my chest cavity is vibrating and I can hear an opaque sound coming from the chambers of my heart. It seems that the seed is finally ready to become an apple tree. But minions of The Darkness are on stand-by eager to devour this last morsel of hope. There's an evil saint residing in the hidden caves of my body, waiting for the day of his execution, but he is my only hope in destroying a much more sinister force. Please, don't fail me. Don't fail us. I'll even dive into hell to save you if it comes to that.

Death Threat

2009-07-21T07:19:00.000-07:00

Inside my clip are the Seven Deadly Sins ready to fly straight to your heart with the pull of a trigger. Tell me, do you believe in God? Because I believe in myself, and I believe you owe me your life. I'm only here to take what belongs to me. You can find me at dawn riding airwaves into the 8th Parallel with skulls in my backpack. If I don't clean up this mess then who will? I saw you in the middle of traffic with a girl who barely knew you and for a second I thought about running you over with my truck. This world is filled with filth and I'm getting sick just by thinking about it.

ESPN

2009-07-14T16:46:00.000-07:00

I am sitting on a cloud looking down on the world that I left to burn. It's not my job to save your soul from the eternal flames. I'm just here to entertain you, and when the curtain closes, I will fly to my castle in the sky and watch re-runs of Wishbone. I sleep well at night. How do you cope with society's perpetual anal rape? I guess I will never understand humans and how they can live in a torture chamber. I may be complicated, but my kind of happiness is simple. The screams. The tears. The menace. I skip all that and go straight to ESPN.

April Third

2009-07-11T09:43:00.000-07:00

There are shadows among us. How is this possibe? Pay attention. Read this carefully because all trains have a destination. What can we do? Watch them slowly slaughter the doves? This is a mighty empire; Don't let the weakness that they play fool you. Derelon played the 8th note on the 3rd day of the 4th month. Where have all the clouds gone? Young one, the book in front of you is blank but there's a message that needs to be read. Learn it and share it. The truth is a god with a pure heart. It is invisible though in front of you. Discoveries are made only when you bare your soul to be penetrated. Be a witness to the horrors. Feel the pain of humanity and the answers will come. Truth is stranger than fiction only because we were born in caves facing an illuminated wall. But the truth is beautiful eventhough it disturbs you at first. There are no pave roads to glory, only hellish terrain. Walk along the scars of the Earth and you will find your way into Heaven.

Three Lines of Coke

2009-07-08T07:40:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I go out of my way, re-adjusting the position of my foot so that I can step on a lone dried leaf, just so I can hear its crunchy death, and it makes me sad and happy at the same time knowing that I've destroyed something already dead. I am Shiva the Destroyer. It gives me a false sense of power--an illusion. The car outside is blaring, crying, weeping like a little bitch, and I sing along to the song it sings at the top of its lungs, the rhythm, the combinations of distinct sounds, it's universal. Cars in South Africa sing the same tune, tell me secrets I've always thought were hidden in vague lyrics written by a lead singer strung up on heroin. I can go on forever writing until my veins explode from the built up pressure, but I must end this before I bore you, I'll let you go fuck yourself in front of the mirror. Go on--fuck yourself.

Pareidolia

2009-06-16T08:21:00.000-07:00

I see African masks crying for wilting roses on concrete walls in the ghetto. On some nights, I stare at the clouds illuminated by the moon and try to find God's face. When you're alone in this world it's comforting to know that someone's watching your back. But it seems everyone had already left this planet and I had slept through this great migration. I knew something was wrong when the dried drool stain on my pillow looked like a skull and crossbones. Once again, an impossible journey lies before me and I'll call upon my Adidas Superstars one more time to help me accomplish my misssion. The illusions are changing attire and my vision is getting clearer. Maybe if I stare at a fixed point in the horizon, I'll make it through this without being deceived.

Demons

2009-06-06T08:09:00.000-07:00

At night, when I'm swimming in the deepest depths of the pitch black ocean, I like to visualize monsters greeting me from the floor. The eyes--they're so red and bright. Don't devour me wise Master! I want to trade hearts. I want the blood of an immortal beast flowing through my veins. I want to be more powerful than two mountains and a storm. I want to face the mirror and see the demon spirits residing in my chest, waiting to destroy the world with one atom. There's a demon inside each of us. Each one of us has the potential to become a Hitler. The struggle is in the fight to maintain peace and harmony with that demon; to respect its power, control its temper, and use its energy towards something positive.

Black and Blue

2009-05-30T08:20:00.000-07:00

My head is throbbing and yet my heart is still and silent, pretending to be an oppossum pretending to be dead. There are millions of caves in my chest cavity and the ghosts of my past lives reside in them. Sometimes, when I blow smoke rings at night, in my back patio, I can hear them playing an ensemble piece. How sad it must be to be dead and alive at the same time. I bet they're tired of this existence and crave the pitch black Nothing. No thing. No mind. No consciousness. On some nights, I wish that I can sleep a dreamless sleep and never wake up: death distilled to its purest form. But the sky is so blue today that I just want dive right into heaven and swim around for a bit, and maybe play a game of chess with God, and ask him to give me a ride to the corner store to buy a bottle of apple juice.

Ready or Not

2009-05-27T11:26:00.000-07:00

When I awoke to find my grandma lying next to me with her eyes frozen open, I wondered if she was looking straight into Heaven. I knew she was ready, but I wasn't. The world is my platter and I just got done smoking a gram of California dro. Who says that the bullet won't bite you too? Everyone is food for an assassin's thought. And I'm going for the homerun, running towards God, or run towards the truth, like those Vietnamese boys in that picture, running away from the bombing. But you see, I'm the bomb with a side of mash potatoes, and I'm going to explode on the scene like a terrorist who doesn't give a fuck about your life. I was never meant to be here, but I'm crashing the party. DJ spin my record so I can spit some truth to these deaf suburban kids. But after all the words are said, I find myself still not ready to go on to the next level, because you really don't know when the game will be over.

The Good, The Bad, and The Machine

2009-05-26T17:52:00.000-07:00

I saw the man on the corner waiting for the light to give him the cue. Alone and in peace, he's just a tiny black dot making his way between Tetris blocks. The city feeds on humanity and if you've got plenty then prepare to be swallowed by this carnivorous machine. If you're outside of the system, the system will find a way to lure you in, and if it fails to do so (rare), you can bet that it will destroy every drop of your soul (and take the money in your wallet afterwards.) The yellow cabs driving wrecklessly to make ends meet is your hearse--taking you from your home to the slaughterhouse. The Catholic school girls pretending to be whores only do so because the adult men around them have transplanted this notion that they are only objects, and some men (like that sleezebag who works at the deli at the bottom of the hill) can't even wait until the girls are of legal age to make their move. Those are the weak men I would love to send to the firing-squad. They are the parasites of this civilization. They selfishly eat all the ration and pollute the world with their ignorance while the decent man who struggles to provide for his family is left in the gutter.

Let Us Kill This Gravity

2009-05-20T11:56:00.000-07:00

I am an ant, a microscopic speck in the Universe. I can carry the weight of the world better than any human being. Plus, who says that ants can't fly? A pile of money has made the Earth heavier than a man with a cinder block tied to his ankles in Lake Eerie. But rectangular pieces of cotton has no chance against my flamethrower. Gravity may have me grounded, but I am a young James Dean rebelling against the physics of capital. One day, I will float over continents and watch souls join me in orbit. Neoterra is the only land I pledge allegiance to, so go ahead, gather your gangsters and armies--I've got spaceships ready to rock steady. I am the phantom in the night pretending to be a slave in your empire. But when the moon is full and radiant, I will transform into your worst nightmare, and I will turn every one and every thing into falling cherry blossom petals, and I will set you free so that you may float past the grasp of gravity, into the arms of your Creator.

37.24 - 115.817

2009-05-18T12:57:00.000-07:00

I can hear wineglasses high-fiving each other. Men of power toasting behind dining hall doors, discussing secret protocols: secrets within secrets; illusions behind illusions. Rumors are being whispered in alcohol breath. Word is that the Soviet Secret Police massacred thousands of Polish officers behind iron doors while their families starved in Kazakhstan. Dirty handshakes and fake smiles: it's a Roman tradition. Hush hush. Don't speak too loud because these walls have ears and every word you utter can be straightened into jail cell bars. The signals are all there in front of you, dancing under hypnotic neon disco balls. Be careful, this is an invisible empire disguising itself with the robe of the Republic. Our voice is our only weapon and if we shout loud enough, collectively, the door of the black vault just might blow open.

Echo Chamber

2009-05-16T14:06:00.000-07:00

I exist only because you tell me I do. I am the walls of an echo chamber and I validate my existence through your words. When I move, I do so only because my mind commands it. I am a robot made of meat and bones. No one really dies, we just cease to function--cease to perform our tasks. I dance on cable wires and wonder if the fear that grips me is real. Or is my brain just programmed to react that way? Do I really fear heights? I once took a bus to Mexico and wound up in Africa. There is no difference between their reality and ours. It's insulated minds that project these invisible barriers. A nun once told me about her God and her God's Paradise, and I still think she's lying. That, or she's believe the lie herself. Even a madman can see past the delusion sane people swallow whole. Tell me, who do you believe in, the person in front of the mirror, or the being who lives outside the Universe? If I scream in a dark alley and my voice bounces he wall back to me, am I to believe that another person is there? I am can see past the illusion and, my friend, it's a cold empty world without a soul and a Savior.

Tick Tock

2009-05-13T09:13:00.000-07:00

The clock is tick-tocking and the space between the "tock" and the "tick" seems longer. Within that nanosecond a bomb has exploded in Pakistan and 368 bullets entered the bodies of hundreds of individuals. New babies were born and even more exhaled their last breath--all within this thin slice of time-frame. Whether time is linear or circular is not of my concern because even if all the clocks stop, the heavenly bodies will continue to spin and revolve around each other: a cosmic dance in an eternal Prom Night. My heart is my measuring tool, governing the cadence of falling leaves. My heart, the ticking time bomb ready to explode between the seconds.

One Plus One

2009-05-09T13:04:00.000-07:00

I wish the solution to day-to-day problems is as clear and simple as the answer to 1+1. But life is a well-oiled machine that hurls algorithms at you at a rapid rate and most of the time one command contradicts the last, and that's when things get complicated. I wish life has a cache file we can access any time and delete useless past information. But our stress-level must constantly be kept at 5th gear so that we don't forget the fact that we are in a constant struggle for survival. Sometimes, 1+1 will not conceive 2 because reality is a runny sunny-side-up egg that knows no border laws, and a red car to you may be 30 shades of gray to another. Simplicity is an ideal in a Universe that is complex and chaotic. I'm still trying to find the RESET button that'll bring everything back to zero.

ASDF

2009-05-04T08:37:00.000-07:00

It's a beautiful day to throw the bombs away. The captain of the ship let out a yelp: Help, help, help! I didn't take him seriously until I saw his severed head on the 9 o'clock news. My God, why God? He was just defending his country. It seems he was on the wrong side of the war. I am on the wrong side of the war. What war? That invisible war floating above us like a blimp? Why war? Destruction for construction. Break the soil before you plant anything. I love the feeling of not regretting anything. But I regret bringing you into this mess. I apologize for my past sins. You had inherited nothing but my lint, glass, and tins. Let's be honest. These are just words playing, but could it really mean something? You decide young one, while I swing high on the swing-set and hope I reach the moon. I'm trying to attain something I'll never reach, like paradise. It's in the Lost and Found box, but it's all the way at the bottom...near hell. I can't believe it's not butter! Synthetic food for synthetic souls going to imaginary netherworlds.

I Cheated, I Lied, I Fucked Your Wife's Chicken Pot Pie

2009-05-01T11:11:00.000-07:00

I want to ride on the back of a flying whale and disappear forever. Fuck your planet and your people, this is Manifest Destiny and I'm destined to make your bed my home. I'm sick of the soul sickness. Burn me like a speaker of truth in Salem. Make me melt and turn me into bars of wealth. The hope inside me is gone. I only hope to blow up the trains in Spain. Kaboom. NPA. Socialism! Die, die, die young martyr. Don't do it in the name of God, because that motherfucker's been dead a long time ago. Listen, only one of us will make it in this gunfight. Take this bullet and aim for that sniper on the roof. Trust me, he's talented. I'm going to fly like Jordan and I believed R. Kelly when he told me that I could do it. Let's get out of here Marco--the Emperor awaits! I met her in Harlem and we talked about fantastic things like McNuggets and UFOs and Alan Lomax and media and information systems and two children in a coffin. I am going insane because as I type this I am sober. All my mental trains are sober products of my insanity. Help me, because I'm slowly watching my beautiful mind rot at the age of 21. Fuck, I really wish I was a drug addict, or an alcoholic because then I would have a reason to think the way I do. Brilliant lights dancing in my head. Take me home Father. I'm tired of this side of the Universe. Take me back to Ohio. I just channeled 350 light beings talking all at once. Time to put on my shark-fins and swim across the Milky Way. Splash.

The Silent Love Song

2009-04-29T09:20:00.000-07:00

The bassline is making my chest thump, making my heart jump; hopscotch hopping from lover to lover, but in the end, I realized that I never loved her. The smoke swirls in the air, rising towards Nebula, while I'm incarcerated in this booth. I try to come up with lyrics but a cat's got my tongue and the words are entangled like a ball of yarn. I warn you, this story is not a happy one. This prince is not that charming and the damsel is a whore. Snare tap, snare tap, bomber plane cymbal crash and my mayday was not heard, because every second on the track is a step closer to Heaven. The song will end soon but the emotions it carries (angst) will march on after the record stops spinning on the 1200.

Pluralistic Ignorance

2009-04-24T09:40:00.000-07:00

Silence stalked every tongue in the room, laying sedated in tranquil ignorance. Your heart tells you to stand up, to shout, but the hatred is so powerful that it encloses your fortune in a cookie. Utterances masked as moans, groans, and grumbles never make it to first-base. Everyone failed this test of courage because that man in the red jacket will be hanged in the morning, his death coulda shoulda woulda been prevented by just ONE fucking voice. Not even the mouse had the lion's bravado to whimper. I am ashamed of you, of myself, for cowering in the presence of shadows. Evil has won once again, but this time, with our help. God help us all! The martyrs are flying into Your arms at a remarkable rate. Cassandra, give us your voice, even if no one will believe us. At least we'll make impressions on the air if not on the earth.