Surrogate To None

Sorry my friends but I must say
We all talk where is not our place
What matters to me is to just let it be
can't analyze every theme

What makes a right a 'right' is the right to avoid
what I wont just own in saliva and voice

In time my friends we all could say
we talk just too much shit
So sell it to me the will of the free
a transcript that arranges your need

But you talk too, much too while I'm drunk
And you kill my buzz which is getting harder to afford

A seance was fix for the logic priests
the authorities that could intervene
they all agree what I had for long perceived

That you talk too, much too while I'm drunk
And you kill my buzz which is getting harder to afford

To whom I know and to strangers
May I be surrogate to none
I am flesh and poetry
of the cheapest kind
just a passer by
with my bones.

Spoilers of The Now

In the new year change
will surely come our way
But we never had it
never had the jet packs to replace our legs.
Spoilers of the now
expecting the clowns frown
But we never had it
never had Krishnamurti on our sight
There's a bell which rings
with a bleak sound that could pierce
the fragrance of the cocaine city
well mannered as we sleep.

I ain't fearing no glaciers
Nor republican votes
cause I'm about to expire
before the end of the world.
How pop could you get song
how low will you go
who's gonna recognize
who you've been ripping off.

Through Our Door

Living just has to be
whatever we may need
To make things work out
sometimes you shout too loud
I hope your patience is not short
many farewells I have known
One from you for sure
will undoubtedly hurt the most

Will you settle with me
knowing you could meet
A thousand better men
a thousand better men
You know its gonna be hard
for me to bring cash
through our door
cause I hate my job

I just cant explain now
I promise to clean up
Is not complicated
I just wanna write songs till I die
I'll write you a million songs before I die.

D.I.Y.

I trust the city will do me no harm
I trust your hands strike like mine
I blame my disillusions if it doesn't leak art
When the 'do it yourself' is for someone else

I saw myself walking down Fordham road
In some words I've written with a forgotten tone
And it has been stated sold as advertised
live information brought here to die

I trust the city cause there is no shell
my freedom poems will be vintage hell
Don't start your arguments just to be done
you can't celebrate your martyrdom when you're gone

Since we are all leverage
In a news channel's bed
with a news' poll distance
offering me what is best.
Don't act like you know me
You are one to obsess
with your transparent bigotry
about realms you can't posses.

This Ain't An Altruistic Smile

Yes you may jingle my song
it could sell by the bunch
Its alright, ain't nothing wrong
cause Dylan sells Ipods

We've all become affordable whores
ornaments on stock
What would Dylan write
if I was his canvas.

But this ain't an altruistic smile
tough I could smile for a while
As soon as you pay me
you can have my service, you can have my service.
You can rent a cervix.

Its alright Ma
I'm only expanding my audience
No longer bleeding
Just busy here being.

A Vague Interpretation of the Sentence Being Served

It's like I am the person who never was
quite prepare for the unveiling of the consequential glare
My passiveness and I have the potential to see a lot of great things pass us by
Just a minuscule glitch, nothing the Lo-Fi Redemption can not fix
It is a wrong man's world when the opposition is louder than my voice
It is a vague interpretation of the sentence being served

There must be something I could do
For You
Let ME Know.

Somewhere in the Bronx

Those evangelists with their microphone
are way to loud or am I too close
Plus an ice cream truck who won't move along
has parked just outside while cars alarms go off
Its a good rap song but blasted loud as fuck
my guitar joins the noise somewhere in the Bronx.

Then Coco comes and barks at all dogs
from the window that I just can't shut
cause the heat melts bad into worse
If I go mad
it serves me right
cause I drank
my getaway cash

Its a shouting match only rain will put out
Dead Indians dance, dead Indians rain dance
In your afterlife, in your afterlife.

Where I Rest

Hold on darling I'm just drunk
was not with anyone you don't know
tough I've gotten home late
at least I know where my head rests
Next to you is where I rest

On my way here I wrote a song
about the forgiveness you have shown
and tough I've gotten home late
I always know where my head rests
Next to you is where I rest

If complications they make it hard
for me to get to you,
I'll try mys best, I'll try to be by your side.

Near Geneva

Only I alone am Rock n' Roll
It should had been said on my horoscope
I don't care if we are all Pisces
if its human to seek answers
There are machines who will deliver us
Yeah invoked around Geneva

These last days of triumphant daze
I'm having more, I wish I had it all
Of what is mine for the taking
I'm going out guns a' blazing
We're like a corpse fleeing the grave
dead is dead here and anywhere


Old prophecies from dead prophets
Don't get to Google each other
This coincidence got me worry
Cause they're poking black holes
Near Geneva

In A Marquez Dream

I counted 3 maybe 9 or 17 billion dwellers of the mind
none in disguise in a field of tar
in a Marquez dream I devoured my time
and when I woke up
for I had to wake up
My genes were taxed.

And all mantras poked fun at the words emerging from an incoherent void
with odor and shape plus the luxury of taste
there were obsessions for everyday
I expected some nostalgia and an impulse before
here I find me somehow smiling
We were in the future now.

The dispute brewed the concern grew
there were those ready to assign others worth,
The coverage of the roar didn't matter much
All bigots have a calling some wear uniforms
and it's a pretty
yes it's a pretty
burdensome cloth.

I turned into a phrase from my Descartes days I felt quoted but not embraced
In a Marquez dream where my memory had leaped
I was dwelling in my my maze
I expected some nostalgia and an impulse before
here I find me somehow smiling
We were in the future now.

Nothing has been the same since you went away
Innocence just has no place
before its birth.

I got my optional forevers
I could love you forever
by chance I may agree
to never regret my own words.

This House Wears Prevention

I sincerely wanna argue with a heated passion
but it all happens to be too green for what I need.
Don't look down on me vegans, soy would cry and plead us
for an alternative to what is served, for what is best.

There was a hostage on the migrating map which should had arrived
at a more convenient time, on the sarcastic line.
Now everyone is eligible to pick roses
but all could also be the garden within the sin.

Lord give me poems describe my soul
but don't make me a pawn of all the things I read inside my head.
This house wears prevention on a fascist pension
much more blatant than a fashion trend, I cant reverse.


You can help me but you cant hold me responsible for the zoning
where this perpetual transition has led
this perpetual transition has fed.


Should anyone see you crying when you are down
tell them you blame nobody but the times
and new days that are coming
those are new days that are coming
are better than the ones that went.

It Is Nostalgia

I know you don't anymore even think about calling me for courtesy
Your change of address was a postal mess and here all your mail has piled.

Yes you're proud and of course allowed, you don't need a man to control your resntment
I said it all, even begged you so, once you said my flaws didn't matter too much

A fool I was, yes gladly so, you loved me for a while
A fool I was, yes gladly so, you made my whole life with your smile

Thank you very much for all your care
in days of dispair under covers, you and me my love
Thank you very much for all your kisses
advice and broken dishes, they were all from you my love.

Beats, Son!

Well, it just seems like a waste
I never have enough to say
They all wear an opinion but I'm on to their plot.
I don't mean to be rude
I'm not here to be ridicule
I walk away in silence, silence is what I've known.
I've grown to own what is mine
My labor, my routine, my time
I am the vengeance, the victim, and the crime.
Sorry sometimes is not enough
I made my peace with being left behind
Your guilt does not concern me, does me no good nor harm.


I've got no reason to be here
Not a clear reason to be here
It doesn't matter
It doesn't matter at all.

A minor

A shy spine that shivers when in doubt
no confidence to attach to a velcro choice.
Rooms dancing in a trance
chasing what once was a parade of walls.

When I'm down I've hit the ground
how I got here I can't recall
I bleed
I scar and bleed
Uneventful seclusions never heal.
Honest mirrors tend to hurt the most
if you ask me I would say I don't know
I bleed
I scar and bleed
I should be happy you don't say what you mean.

Mexico

My love she longs to live
in the red white and green
Mexico, down in Mexico.
She loves her rice and beans
tortillas with aji
and onions, her chopped onions.

She loves me cause I am brown
I could pass as a Mexican
we'll live in Veracruz, Guadalajara or Cancun.
She knows some Spanish songs
in a mariachi band she'll work
for beans and rice they're worth mentioning twice.

Her feet will roam while the Maya sun tans her last pores
And we'll sing about what is like to live in the once longed Mexico.

The Green and Purple of the Bruise

This must be the height of the decline
while we drink and sing, songs of our purgatorial life
We all do what we do to wash away our blues.

And this gardens of debts with their stemmed cigarettes
are lit by desire to forever burn in the fire
I assume it must be good to be relevant demanding truce.

When forever fades and it rains curtains of grey
our beaten beating hearts could not synchronize
The lesson we were to lose, we're the green and purple of the bruise.

Since we know Egyptian folklore
Has us where it wants to
Who are we to not go along
But first get us a job, a food in plate type of JOB.

The Etiquette of Hurting Someone Back

Over enthusiastic folks who trust their solar stock,
shout fire in compensating moral fraud
While Monday's mascaras are rushed on a subway track,
how can I waste my ink on nonsense like this.

Hold on where have I heard about there being times
where the quiet and the none find themselves first in line
There lurks a predatory guilt infectious sham
I meant to learned the etiquette of hurting someone back.

It has always been a dangerous world for the living
And a brief one for the dead
I've been Ok, willing my days
One good or bad decision at the time.