The world is endless

goes far beyond the circumference of Columbus

past the stars

through the black holes,

extending forevers past infinity

yet

one thing

still

is for sure…

that it all can be understood

with one chord

a few lines of a poem

a sketch of a dream

If you are a poet

do not waste time on a nine-to-five

If your purpose is to heal

why wait for riches to live humbly in luxury

If you are an artist

stop living as a contradiction;

feel no need to explain the urge your god instilled in you;

the desires you have are not curses to be understood and overcome

Say a prayer, make a promise and dedicate your life to it

There is no place for creativity in a land of intention

so stop trying to understand anything;

There is simply too much to ever know

We are created as a brush-stroke

so as to

continue,

not finish,

the masterpiece of the world

af

(written on pen & paper)

It is time I stop being the victim.

Love sometimes works in manners silent between people

sometimes hurts so intensely

paralyzes like a moving painting I stare at for years

rather than a world I choose to live within.

I often give so much

open up so much

try

and fight so much

which is fine well and good when with humble intentions.

But then I begin expecting

The entities of ego and pride

feel they deserve

and as a result

I deserve

that one good deed be granted two;

that my rewards should be what I want

which are often not what I need and receive.

In the past, I would find my gratuity

through relativity,

the perspective of understanding

what I feel I lack

in comparison to others in this world.

When I pity my poverty

I remember the tin and tire roofs in the slums of Salvador

When lonely, I think of those scorned, mocked and condemned

for their handicaps, disabilities and imperfections

When I despise my status, my worth

it is they who are born and who have died

with far less than the lowest of my opportunities

whom I clearly remember meeting

among the million faces on my journey.

This life I am experiencing

isn’t all that bad;

in fact, it is quite brilliant and abundant

and that which I feel I lack

is nothing more than something (or someone)

I have yet worked towards growing within.

It is my responsibility to accept what it is I want;

to understand that

no one

is obligated to give

to me.

It is my responsibility

to stop being the victim.

af

(written with pen on paper)

If I am going to take this pilgrimage

preparation is a must

beginning with the three staples

without which,

my literary hero could not have become who he was;

My notebook has already been thoroughly stained

by my arsenal of blue ink pens

but the third piece has been missing until now:

Warm apple pie with a heaping scoop of

pure sweet-milk french vanilla ice cream;

deliciously healthy hobo food

Fresh fruit, grains, calcium, warmth and comfort,

a memory of home for the homeless

a reminder of innocence for a worn-out traveler

a brief embrace of a parent for those of us who are orphaned

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“Free from obstructions;

open and clear.”

“Clear, unequivocal.”

“Simple.”

My life is quite unassuming

Clothes are bought out of necessity

Skin fragrance-free

I travel with a bar of soap

a toothbrush

and try diligently to collect

no worldly belongings

that might disconnect me

from the purpose of my soul;

admiring the beatnik heroes

I have come to place my trust in

The Buddhas, the Jesus’, the Bukowskis

However,

with that said

what I do tend to pack

in this traveler’s knapsack

is the guilt of those

I might have slighted throughout the years

intentional or not.

So, accept my apology,

in the only way I know how to,

beautiful ol’ friend

who

I now know

is anything but plain.

af

(written with pen on paper)

As the story goes…

the gods were lounging, long ago

before time was created

at the precipice of space and matter

they had relegated themselves to a double digit dimension

of an uncountable realm

out of sheer boredom of what

infinity had already become

(of which there was no concept yet as time had yet to exist)

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(words by Nickelback; arranged by af)

It’s getting late
I haven’t seen my date
so tell me when the boys get here.
It’s seven o’clock and I wanna rock
Want to get a belly full of beer

Feeling way too damn good;
I got caught up
in favorable slavery
just off of Hollywood and Normandy
Was it wrong?

If everyone shared
and swallowed their pride,
then we’d see the day
when nobody died

Cartoon studios are right
Everybody’s got a drug dealer on speed dial.
They’re growin’ dope
everywhere around the block.
You can smell it
by the way they talk

I’m gonna trade this life
for fortune and fame,
I’d even cut my hair
and change my name.
Croatia calls me late at night
and Israel beckons me;
Somewhere between Cher and James Dean
Frank freaks out and reaches God;
No heaven don’t hear me

My sister looks cute in her braces and boots
the first girl I kissed.
I feel like a king and she’s my ace in the hole
I was so nervous that I nearly missed.
She talks like a trucker
She’s gonna lick my pistol clean;
I’ll drink a fifth of jack
and scream out, “She’s with me”

I’m like a pony in my own rodeo

My best friend gave me the best advice
(Yes he wore a cowboy hat):
Next time you steal, better ask before you borrow…
And tease them all by sucking on your thumb

I’m tearing off of assholes coming on to her;
It happens every night she works

Here comes the next contestant

Better bring your friend along;
Better off together than just one at a time.
Sex is always the answer, it’s never a question
and “No” is a dirty word

I scratched your name
on the side of a bullet.
Got your hand between my knees;
And you control how fast we go
by just how hard you wanna squeeze.
I got both hands on the wheel
while you got both hands on my gears.
Am I to thank for yanking out my…

I like your pants around your feet;
You look so much cuter with something in your mouth
so tell your friends not to think out loud until they swallow;
Because the angel on my right ain’t hanging out with me tonight;
Your mom don’t know that you were missing

And that was when she started screamin’
‘”That’s my dad outside the car!”

My old man’s drunker than a bar full of wino’s
but he traded everything for suffering
with scars on both his lips;
Couldn’t buy my love at 8 years old

And what the hell is on Joey’s head?
Get away from me
Stay the hell away

This is how you remind me…

Are we having fun yet?

af

(arranged on computer)

Do not listen to the voices

external, internal, omnipotent or otherwise

They are gnats nipping at your neocortex

casting shadows on the light you were meant to share;

A dull drone silencing the brilliance you were meant

to proclaim from the edge of this land

you now find yourself at

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