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I dropped a post the other day and like all of my posts it is meant to spark debate and cause inspiration and enlightenment of some sort. Sometimes they don’t land or people are afraid to pick them up, but sometimes it sparks a little outrage from what I like to call the usual suspects. This time I wrote “I know people are sorry for their vote but you’re not sorry for your racism?” The idea behind this was straight forward and it stems from a comment I heard recently that tho

I know it’s dank and dark eerie end quietly haunting and everywhere you look something’s lurking but don’t be afraid of the basement.   Don’t be afraid when the door hinges creek the way the monsters scream when wading through your nightmares and dreams. They are just door hinges creaking, old and dirty, covered in dust and in need of a good cleaning. Watch that first step now, because the stairs are old, wobblily and rickety,   squeaking and making noises that wake the thing

A do-si two-step down a street in my dreams. I am the only one walking through the city searching for the only other like me wanting to the get to know the virtual vista existing inside my mind and tearing my life apart.   A dinkey do, mashing potatoes and jangling a leg it’s the new drunken fist flashing in the bedazzled strobes of the nightclub where I am the man. Swaying in the back and forth of little light-mares dancing through quick sand.   Wink to the others, ask them

Bile, acid and fear What is that scent on the air An ocean of red, moving in thick with madness Understand, that’s hate my dear