Gay is Rock 'n' Roll but better.

Visions of power lesbians dance in my head
The Mormons, the Prostitutes and some Rock 'n' Roll

She says
The straight men are all just upset
The gay men are out having all the fun
Having all the sex
Always getting laid.

If only they could decipher the anger, I say

Except the rock n roll guys they get the best of both worlds
Dress up like women and fuck who they want
Do what they want
She says.

I say, gay is Rock 'n' Roll but better.
Gay has always been better.

In these days my photo will change
As I will wear more chains and more chains
And he points says I came across different
He kinda thought he was alone
I've been feeling this way for years
Since I started
Airy-fairy hippy-dippy sexology is not my style
From the mountain towns
Gay atheist educators, we're from downtown
But I don't say this out loud.
Don't want to offend the others by being too proud.
But

Me too, I think, as a creator I don't need to say it out loud.

Pretending I'm Brave

I'm not brave
If I was I'd be somewhere out in the cold
Maybe not alone
Braving with my soul

But I'm not brave
I've nestled down and playing a role
one which I abhor

I'm not brave
I'm not adored
on the contrary
faking it
when I'm really bored

Cozy little family
You don't really love me
How could you?
You don't even know me
Everyone just going along

Consumed by woes of credit and taxes
of paychecks and masses
shielding ourselves with maskes
laxes Demascus Rose.

I'm so not brave, just confident with airs
and the gift of gab
well spoken with an air of royalty
and the gift of gab.

I'll probably have a drink and let the moon do it's duty
And then I'll probably sink into a heavy sleep.
Nothing will change and I'll continue to pretend that I'm brave.

Of Withdrawing and Creation

This is exactly what I need
I've got insight and ideas brimming at my knees
I've got memories and dramas of things I once believed
I've got rhythm and blues and a blouse that needs hemming
shoes that are scuffed and ladies in waiting

This is exactly what I need

I've got the things which no longer deserve my time
but that which I still deliver
people and places, creations and things
manifestations of projects I did as a fling
prolific he calls it
though others may call it flighty

I've got to keep moving
on and on away from things which hold me back
keep me in place by fear of withdrawing 
a fear of withdrawing
And continue this creation


I've got songs coming out of my left ear and each shoe
I've got a message in a bottle that says
"I am going to eat you"
I've got movies and books and words galore
I've got business ideas that'll deplete you to the floor
so let's stop this madness this mayhem this biting
let's stop this insulting, general hating and fighting

Eat your veggies if you want desert
and be the last one standing if you want to get there first
And stop lying to yourself that all the rest matters
accept the truth as it hits you face like a mad hatter
Sing the songs out loud at the top of your lungs
And feed your babies the best food even if it means moving on

And as my mother told me once,
"Follow the road that is in front of you"
It's there if you look, right there in front of you
Forming, can you see it with your every move.

Ghost of Halloween Past

Still hanging on after years and years and years of despot
and drone
and knowing what I know
still seeking approval when you are long gone
dead in the ground
it should be
for things are long gone.

Sure there are flights of fancy
you come when you're around
sure there are fits of energy
you call when you are one
and you pulled it together for me
one entire week of reverie
and beyond that there is nothing
nothing left of you and me

I still call you my friend though I beg to differ
I make the efforts and without alcohol
you wither

but in times you've come through
because deep down you do care
deep down past all the judgment
self doubt and critical analytical
there is a creative mind that cares.

and after a night of creative inspiration
with open hearts and new joie de vivre
reminders that x is
a generation that feeds it's souls.
I feel the judgment slip away for a moment
for a moment I am free
and recognize the judgment
is in me
I carry the torch within me
a seed you planted
that still haunts me
like the ghost of halloween past.
to the detriment of my own soul.
And what is there to see is that the only judge left
is me.

Sing Unto You

Singing sighing
I was, eyelash, eyeliner
who cares it's all the same
the words will come when the sun sets
it's not time for that, midnight
the sound comes first, middle of the night
the melody comes at 1AM
the music first midnight
the rock n roll. all night
lady shining light

I've no time for words these days
but the lavishly singing I want not to behave
I just want to come home
and sing sing unto you
my guitar in my arms
and sing unto you

September Slow

Virgo sun shifted quietly in as my leo rising sank into the dim
September is almost here my friends
September boys quietly move in

With your loyalty, integrity, dependency lack of social malignancy
Virgo September boys are still waiting

I shift in my skin, anxious, driving and driven
I determine and determinedly move necessity to prove
my artistic nature, my creative nature. when it should soothe.
soothe me in and out
it should soothe.
September boys, diligently move, decidedly and peacefully
though I know anxiety is yours too

And all the April girls know, that everyone else moves much too slow.

Follow Thru

In these new days of sobriety
I am so wide awake
empty in my gut
sad without my love.

I gotta keep writing
I gotta keep playing
something prevents me
I keep on straying
self sabotaging
self betraying

It's not like I have forgotten you
I just fear the moment I touch you
your silky black frame
and strong six strings
you melt like butter in my fingers

But I so easily freeze
in the freezing days
of blur and burr
I so easily take up
cheaply with new friends
and the old
wanting to be the druggie in me
wanting to think it can be good forever

I've hurt many along the way but mostly I've hurt myself
easily giving in to the buzz buzz buzz
any day
in fact every single day
complaining about the extensive long work days
but then making up with disaster in between
waking up with a massive headache and days lost
in between

It's not that I ignore you
touching your shiny white skin
because when I play you
the black notes in between
the minor minor songs I've written
However unfinished
I feel blessed and happy
shiny again

Yes, I am writing for work
Writing this and that
Writing about what I learned
Yes, I'm doing what feels right to my heart
but why do I constantly leave out the art?

Even though every now and again
I come back around
I throw myself in again
But fear and doubt seep slowly in
It's true
I'm the creator, not the victim
I'm the creation of a victim in her own skin

I hear the words coming out of my mouth
about him or her or them or that
I hear them resonate
I break down barriers for the world
but for some reason I can't tear em down
within

So the time is now
I'm setting new goals
again
but this time I've had enough
of trying to pretend

Making time in your schedule is not enough
follow thru is the only thing that wins
in the end.

Waiting for Fall.

My friends these days
I see you getting old
breaking bones
withering stones

No longer the spriteful youthful invincible bodies
no longer the carefree, willful attitude of spring
Summer has set full swing, on this wheel of life
slowly we are
Waiting for Fall.

Many having your young children now
Some you're still out there trying find your home
trying to find your space
Tired of being alone
But things burn down, bodies break down
And we still gotta keep going.
Youth is so different.
We always think there is an end goal.
Never knowing we've reached it.

But we've all worked so hard for so many years
The desire is no longer the same
But our muscles know nothing else
We will work and stress as we always have
Always still playing the game.
Despite these things, age, getting in the way.

And all we do recognize things that were important once
are laughable now
we had fun oh sure we did
but style is within
now is the time to let it out
dear friend
shopping and nails
you don't have a choice.
you once did
but now you're tired
and it's a-ok
to enjoy life
do the good work
and then enjoy life.

The Blind Leading the Blind

Whoever said we are supposed to be mature adults, well they barely have a clue
Whoever said that we as youthful parents barely have a clue?

Most friends my age are having babies, perhaps already but with small children
It's few and far between that are parenting young adults, tall teens
who complain and know better
who break rules but know better
and don't care
but still look to us for guidance,

young, smiling, yet sometimes tragic struggling artists living,

When did I stop believing that I was still young?
I was bitter and dispositioned at being misplaced
at the edge of 40
confused as old disproved and rushed
And have we forgotten it was just yesterday, last night in fact
we were playing rock n roll
this morning laughing from a hungover an all night of ecstacy and wine
partying until the sun shown in the sky

And have we forgotten we are still the rock n roll children
we own the night, yes still
in our high heels
in our boots
in our fishnet mascara houndstooth
and truth be told, yes we can lead these kids all right
we are not the blind leading the blind

No, we don't hide and pretend, feigning those adult lies
We are who we are in our 30's with teens in our wake
with teenagers in our wake
barely young enough to be old parents

but we're definitely there

Open Road Rapture

So I am drinking wine again, after staying up all night until 10AM with you
And I'm tired but focused
Happy but sad

My life has changed oh yes it has
just a year ago
a houseful or rock n roll
now daddy boy children
our lives continue to unfold

the early days and dreams were somehow preserved
but too many late nights lonely
not out on the road
we reasoned but one day
we reckoned frozen to the bone
cold and alone

So we're onto new creative projects
though the old ones still forge us
and somedays I falter
as I miss the freedom concept
open road rapture

Do the right thing
And I will support you
I always thought boundaries
were forceful
Suggesting wrong or good
I never thought boundaries were personal
respect me you fool

But no longer can we play the fool
4 decades in
no longer can we let this happen
We can't let the weak win

Wisdom is strength only when exercised
Wisdom and strength are good when exercised.
When you're onto something good something real
just persevere
The promise you can feel

I guess the saddest part is that if it's good
it doesn't mean it's right
and if it's right, it might not feel good
but what road you choose is it the one that rules the roost?

Depressed girls make good art....

Depressed girls make good art
Saddened by loss and confused and misunderstood still driven
To create

Depressed girls ambitious and motivated
in the Los Angeles sun
in the San Fernando Valley heat
driving
in the desert sun
driving

Sad girls make good music
make good sounds
not accepting defeat
not willing to look back into the eyes of the mother
or the eyes of the beholder
not willing anymore to
re-write the story
over and over

Angry, used, misjudged and misunderstood
slender arms exposed and confused
long legs tanned and bruised
Lonely girls making good art, films, music and books
Eaten up inside, the flesh intolerant and skewed

Ambitious and hungry from the outside it seems
Depressed and driven
only when exposed from within

And the happy girls are still sick from pretending
Tired of lying
and vomiting up their lunches

Unabashedly America

People unabashedly bash America. Americans, who have lived here all their lives. Like myself born and bred in America.
There was a time when born and bred in America was a good thing as exemplified by the Born in America plaque complete with an Eagle and a Harley Davidson motorcycle that is hanging on the bedroom wall of the California suburban home I grew up in.

People bash America. And I am guilty of doing the same. Having traveled around the country and the world, drawn to culture, color and the third world. Drawn to the overseas, the different, the cities, the light, I have hated America and it's vast nothingness lacking culture and color. And Americans.

But I always come back to the comforts and simple comfortable blissful freedom of America. I always crave the open empty roads of a place I call home. Deserts and dry land. Marsh, mosquitoes and swamps. Mountains, trees, covered in snow, sunny beaches and warm sand, miles and miles and miles of open empty road. Blissful, sunny, warm, dried up, unaware, ignorant, and alone America. Unabashedly America. America stands alone. But there was a time I hated America. And I still do in so many ways. I deplore and despise it's empty souless ways. It's racist presidents and faux democracy. It's pretense and lies. We hate it here and we think there is a better place. We finally have a black president and we're still not happy. We focus on his short comings, and the fact that gay marriage is not legal. But how many of us would get married if it wasn't prescribed by society to begin with. We're backwards and unhappy, we blame America because we have no one else to blame. We blame Bush and his inside jobs. Yes, it's a fucked up corrupt place to be. But it's America. Still. At least we still have our speech.
Unabashedly America. We have poverty on our streets. We're sad and we want to help. We see the poverty of the 3rd world. We're sad and we want to help. We are blessed and fortunate to live in a place where we can help.
Yet, we love to complain. And, guess what in America we complain.
America. A place where we can get in our car and drive. Where a woman, can get in her car and just drive. Stop in the middle of nowhere and take a shower at a truck stop.

The Free Open Road.

I smiled shocked and in awe when a woman told me she would drive from Los Angeles to Colorado and stop at a truck stop to take her shower. An unabashed American woman. Unabashedly American.
Fuck it.

America still exists. And we Americans still exist. We still love and live and dream of a place to be Free. A place of Freedom. We still breathe in the hope of Freedom. And everyday more and more people land in America, step foot across the Southern borders to call this place home, to claim a piece of the Freedom.

I've traveled the world too. All us Americans who so quickly and easily bash the land that we've called home, we've been lucky to call home, that gave us shelter and safety. A place to speak out against the war in the rest of the world. While others are dying. Still, all we can focus on is how we were lied to and how the other people lived and dided. It's not just, no it's not fair, but then again, who said life was fair? We get to write, speak out, talk about how unfair it is to be an American. An unabashed American. And now it's considered so UnAmerican to be proud to be an American.

I dont wanna clean up nicely.
this week I said
I don't want to be prim and proper and acceptable for your tv show
I don't want to clean up nicely.

Keep Writing

Keep Singing
Keep Playing
I am reminded to find some peace
Assured that it's all okay
Trying not to force these things
As it has to happen naturally
We stopped controlling things the day we let it go
And we have to still practice letting go
We cannot control so many little things

The little noble things
Walking with so little life left
I guess I'm seeing symbols and meaning where there doesn't need to be
But I still feel sad.
I still feel the mourning.
A life could not be saved.
He was supposed to stay with me for much longer than this.

Sweethead sing about turning their backs on a loaded gun.
Those times were fun despite the fighting.
And we could have done so much more fun
But we too turned our backs on the loaded guns.

Silly little childrun.

The Wrong Place and a Timely Death

I'm in the wrong place
Dying an untimely death
Mornings are a hustle b of emails and madness
and who's who on the other end

In few hours in, I should be composing
Singled out ideas, writing and supposing
But instead I'm hear tedious and imposing
the world of education
measly. fear and loathing
of the parents of a past generation
non supportive
hold on to your day job is the saying
it still after 20 some odd years
painfully staking
striking and hating
it doesn't encourage the painting

I hate you I want to scream at the top of my lungs
I hate the fear you've instilled at the back of my throat
I hate you for you're simple ways
Divided and angry
I want to walk away from a family you just won't get it
Won't ever support it
Who even in my rebellious way I am still trying to push away
I hate you and your view points.
They got me to this point today
And I'm not doing what I want to be doing.
I have to stop doing what you say.

Year of the Rabbit

The music comes back to haunt me
But in a sweet way
I wonder if I'll ever be writing and playing like I'd wanted
Yet I see I've done a lot
More than I had thought I would
There may be more to come
Some songs are left unfinished
Some songs are left unsung
Some projects I left behind
Though I could definitely guide and ride along
as I see the fans are growing.

Or I could hop
Like the Year of the Rabbit
might.
And drink from morning to night
Like Charles Bukowski might
and write.
That would be nice.
Living in safety is not living, some say
but it's better than fighting for your life.

Olden Ways of the Olden Days

Here it is again, not the same person you are within
but someone influenced by the chaos and cockiness of Los Angeles

Here you go again, not the same person we shared a moment,
but it passed and now you're back to your old ways
some things never change

seasons change but really they stay the same
fashion changes but comes back around again
why not recycle we're taught in so many ways
it's impossible to let go of the old days
recycle means hold onto don't let it go to waste

people are starving in Ethiopia, remember those days 1983
famine came their way
and so we're told not to waste our plate
but so many things got wasted anyway,
and then some things they never change.

Olden ways of the olden days
her heathen ways of her feathered hair mess and lipgloss glaze
far below the stare of her drunken gaze
of all the things I had to say
I never got to say
Stop wasting your time with the ones who will go nowhere.
And drag you down with them.
I wonder when I got so vain.

It's Now or Never

Words abound about love and art
And I throw up my hands at the sheepishness of academia
Rebelling at the cause of
Always falling back on the follow
But then suggestions about
Squeezing it in 30 minutes here and there
It's not ideal
but No, I'm not a millionaire either
I have to do what I have to do

And what gets started now can be realized by summer
It's painted in my stars
The words I wanna write the ones in the my head
So what if it's 3AM
It's now or never.


I liked what you said, about it being an excuse
Idealism aside
Let's be real.

To Do The Real Work

Driving on this side of the mountain, I can feel you on the other side
Something tells me the story isn't over
I popped up on the time line, someone else gave me an idea
It sounded so much like yours
And of course you were there, like you'd never faltered to be
Like I always imagined you to be
I recalled how I came to believe

Sipping wine I crash in the early hours
by wee morning I'm up and seeping tippy toeing baby kitten
by after hours I'm no longer sleeping seething worrisome
seeing things no after glow.
just wanting to do the good work
but hell, just wanting to do the work
If someone would just set me free to do the real work.

Bitching and Moaning

I remember the 99cent days
buying gifts for each other and our friends
I remember the lipgloss madness the betty boop sticky notes
You wanted me to be comfortable and happy
But I only bitched and moaned

I remember being scared and alone
it wasn't my time
I remember wanting to own the
bohemian lifestyle
You made it be mine
You gave me what I wanted in every which way
I got what I wanted
You told me what I wanted you to say
My ears were filled with feline gossip
you just wanted to fit in
I guess what I needed to hear is how wrong I was
and what a bad decision I was makin
But you thought it was the right choice
And maybe you're still right.

And now I am stuck with this bitching and complaining
no time to write or wander aimlessly through the dollar store
Still craving balance
In an unfulfilled world of madness

I still muster at what you gave me
I still flounder with what I want
One day its security the next its a bedside table
with empty bottles and lots of books
Overall I know I am right in being here right here right now
But knowledge only soothes me somewhat knowing you gave me what I wanted
Until that day it broke
Until that day we broke.

The Ghost That is Within Me

Shallowness and sadness ensues, but I want to believe we can get by with very little
and that that greed of a country doesn't phase me, will no longer phase me.
And I want to say I have finally uncovered the fear or mess of living in a space
And that was that it is beyond what is meant for me.
What is possible, feasible and real for me as a unity.
Uni, Solo, or unsolidarity.

I crave for a simpler life and simpler existence
and I crave for nothing new. nothing. just the old and simplistic
And if you hadn't noticed this is all bullshit I am not sure who what or why
Where I was trying to be, live, what I was trying to be, and why I am trying to impress me?
And, now when I say going underground, I don't mean I am going to give up the lipstick
Does this mean it is a shallow irreverant meaningless chide, carrying a simple tote with your Chanel sunglasses, when you're a sample sale bride? I cannot even stand to write because I'm standing forever in the moonlight, of darkness. There is not enough light.

I am screaming inside for the mess I created, mess I caused, mess I believed would save me my sanity but in the end it became a burden which ate away at the innards every single day.
It didn't work the way it should have, on paper plates I never ate.
So I straddled the worlds, coming from too much, never giving up the ghost, wanting to have too little, but unable to live down the five stars.

Now, I say is when am I going to stop doing the things doing the do's, reality please save me from the mess that could drag me under further, drag my soul any deeper down under. I wonder if it is ultimately doomed. There is little pleasure in writing the words anymore as solvenly duty and the worldliness of the world has taken over my entire body and soul.

I still remember the day at the Laundromat, somewhere in the Valley. Reading the posted notes in Spanish. Broke and blissful. I wish I could hang on to that day. It was a hot day in LA.

I wanted a return to slim pickings, but when I got there I froze my ass off and when I returned to a warm safe space, I see it is sucking me dry statistically, realistically, fundamentally, I want to give it all away. I think I would give it all away. Although quitting doesn't suit me, and I don't want to throw anything away. Didn't I work hard and struggle? Probably not. Sometimes I feel like a spoiled imbicile. Why do I deserve this grail? Because, somehow, it doesn't make sense. None of it. The world between safety, warmth and simplicity that I straddle daily.

I said I wanted the wheels and since then I have changed my mind and as I write I like to think that I have given up that ghost but I have yet to find solidarity in the ghost that is within me. Because despite my strength, I know the influence and judgment of the worldly wordy despots may continue to dig in me.

Can we go to a different plane and still live in the City of Angels, or any mega city or suburb in the Western world for that matter, or are we forever doomed to straddle that of the plight of la boheme and the business man?

Going underground, for a bit.

So, I'm going off the radar a bit
I'm going underground a bit
Your materialism is a farce and confuses me a bit
Can't fake it

She stays with him, a bit
And we shook our tale feathers a bit
but Rock n Roll still lives
There is still time to save your soul

Followed the faces a bit,
Facebook stalking some call it
Remember Rock n Roll is real
And the time is now to save it

Wake up fall over this week
Splitting head ache it seems
The work it never ends
but today I'm going underground
I'm taking back what was ours
and giving it to the kids
the kids of our youth
the kids we were in our youth.

The shadows linger a bit
The days of plenty falter a bit
The days of communism and war coming our way
in a bit
I'm not a prophet nor do I know much of anything
But the youthful days of freedom and plenty have gone
and we've got to sacrifice face and hide a bit
We've got to give up the ghost
a bit
We've got to go hungry and want and need and fear
a bit
Or we can run off to Spain or somewhere warm in Central America
or Florida and hide out a bit
But the world will be changing in a bit
And to be prepared is something illegit
But we are Legit, until we go underground and then
We're on the lam, running, hiding
and that's what it must be for a bit.