Friday, August 1, 2014

Too Loud to Ignore

No one knows about mundane,
Even if we don't admit it publicly.
Because who is going to pretend,
They are bored with it all?

It's only real when God comes down,
and flows thru the milk in our veins.
We've become too loud to ignore.

An adult door is open and we go thru
The puppy entrance.
We're thirsty and a water bowl
Is given.

The moon and moons become nothing but
Big rocks in a vacuum of space.
A planet just happens to become inhabitable,
Because of its relationship in distance to
The nearest star.

That is what we call "miracle."
It's wizardry and the potion is magic.
Once we wake up and fear nothing,
Real powers awaken in our cells.

A real life, with real good.
Roar about it like no choice is available.

We see outside these walls,
With God being carried around in our pockets,
Like a lucky token of our greatest acceptance.
Don't lose that.

Because we have become too loud to ignore.

A Bus Ride

Los Angeles, so horribly known for its mass transit system.

I'm going to find out first-hand.

A bus going from the top of Laurel Canyon down to Santa Monica and Fairfax is my journey today.

The bus came a few minutes late but that's better than a few minutes early.
I wave at the bus driver as she arrives and opens her door for business.
I went up and asked her how much.
I didn't bother explaining because it's been a few years since I last rode.
Which is ironic because I rehearsed how I would tell her in a joking manner.
So we could share a bond of uncertainty together.

Did they even still take cash? Yes. Cash rules the public still.
The seats were clean and no foul smells were presented by anyone on the bus,
including me.

The trip would take a few minutes longer than driving plus I wouldn't pay for parking. I was the only non-senior riding which worried me at first.
With this ride, was I joining the Many Wrinkles and Bad Eyesight Club?
Moby. Oh, that's "Maybe."
I read a few pages of poetry on the ride and tried not to think about if the doctor I was visiting would tell me I only have 2 to 40 years of living left.

Finally some pretty girls board the bus at Sunset and Crescent Heights. And a kid wearing a Goofy ears Disney hat.

The circle is halfway complete.

I get out and try to find the 218 to Studio City.
It only took me a roundabout walk around the busy noon traffic to find it.
The seat to wait for the bus looked like orange vomit had been on it and dried.
I chose to stand for ten more minutes.
The bus made its way to the few of us waiting. 

This time, a young man of Hispanic descent is driving.
He is quick to honk the horn.
Or maybe traffic is more aggressive around this time.
I try to mind my own business and play a racing game on my phone.

The bus stop is very close to my home.
My story complete without a real story happening.
I've never liked the bus but I do enjoy riding the train.
Probably because I don't like sitting sideways and going forward.

My verdict is the transit system is better than is joked about by
Many many Los Angeles comedians.
I wonder how many of them regularly ride public transportation.
And I keep wondering when L.A.'s Metro will rival New York's M.T.A.
These are good thoughts to go home to.

I do go home, the circle now complete.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Bears dancing

I'll always remember seeing Grateful Dead shirts being worn as a child.
Imagining how great they must sound,
If they could produce these vivid colors on t-shirts.

Boy was I wrong.

My mind did not explode like I thought it would.
I was mildly disappointed.

Oh well.
I'm an 80's/90's kid.
What's another band to find?

Nowadays I'm older.
I can at least appreciate it.
Without taking LSD.

Steal from someone

Steal from someone,
then buy them a present.

They will forgive you.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

The Economics of It All

He was born rich.

Growing up he knew it with all his heart.

It's been a surreal experience. To say the least.

The voyage he knew he would start.

And not knowing where he'd end up.

One thing he knew, though.

That he would be rich someday.

And with that,

Money became worthless.

He could buy anything,

But still felt empty.

Even so, currency consumed his time.

His thoughts and dreams.

In youth he only knew situations financially.

The last few years he became richer than his wildest dreams.

He was a big fish in a small pond.

He had achieved it early.

As an adult, a bonafide real adult,

Real ideas started pouring about where he could go,

and how to get there.

His richness grew,

In ideas and thinking unconventionally.

With that he says:

Nobody loves money.

And he hates hearing, "money over everything".

Money is an idea, of paper and digital bits.

That paper is a person's worth.

It's not what they have in their mind,

Their heart, their soul.

Numbers type up on a bank statement.

And we think "security".

Here's what he thinks of security:

What if?

What. If.

Everyone could have nice things?

What. If.

A sick person gets taken care of?

What. If.

A hungry person is fed?

What. If.

We were already who we wanted to be?

And no monetary value would change that?

That's rich.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Welcome to Hollywood

A city with this many people and I still feel alone...

I'm sure you're thinking, "This doesn't sound like the Hollywood I know of." and of course it doesn't.

The glamorized moving pictures you see on the screen can make a hooker in Pretty Woman look appealing.

Dreams are big in this town. Here or New York is where you go for a chance at it all.

All these dreams and only so many of them can be fulfilled.

Problem is there are backstabbers and fakes, just like the villains in the movies they portray.

I'm sure you're thinking "Who are you to try to shape my views?", and you're right. I'm nobody.

The old times, it was who you knew and what you did with the opportunity you were given.

And I knew everybody, but I never took a real chance to prove I had a voice.

Commercialization, post-modernization, and formulaic shock value. And this is considered art.

The Hitchcocks, the Lean's, The Peckinpah's, The Chaplin's, they're all gone.

Today, everyone dictates like they're Hitler.

These so called artists want to rule, to make the rules, but never in a million years will they follow them.

A day's work used to get you a day's pay. You didn't need to kiss ass to go up in the ranks of men.

You just showed talent and courage. Now the entire city is my battlefield. And right here, I'm in the goddamn lousy warzone.

I've lived here for many years and starved.

Its the hard life daily or no life at all - for dreamers.

When the going gets tough, the tough get going, but that's not me.

I've accepted that's who I am and I'm OK with it.

Sunday, July 6, 2014

Writers Anonymous

Hi everyone. My name is Danny D.

I've been writing since I was a teenager. When everyone else would throw away their poetry after English class, I would go home and rewrite it until I could no more.

I speak in slang around friends, but the written word must have a social order.

Nothing is as strong as my addiction to words crafted together.


Success speaks for itself. Be very quiet.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Alco Hall

Alco Hall,
How much I love you.
You've made me sexy, you gave me confidence,
To go talk to that girl in the black dress.
Liquid. Courage. And my deception.
Do I booze it up?
Do you smell it on me?
I just want you to rock my world one more time.

A great friend.
He had good direction,
Bad acting.
His name is Al. Kaholic.
It's a German last name.
But he only drinks French wine,
And Coors Light.

I'm going to sleep early now,
But really it's 4a.m.
To sleep late is to sleep early in the morning.
My BAC is a thousand.
I might throw up.

Friday, January 3, 2014

A Pirate's Creed

Roses are thorned and so is my love.
Beauty is in the water,
And death always certain.

Made in heaven with the Devil's tongue.
Hell hath no fury,
Like the angry God's vengeance.

That is why there is no honor among us thieves.

So we live, laugh, and fight.
We conquer for control,
The women, and the gold.

It's all there for the taking.