Angel
By some homeless guy...

God made the Heavens and then he made the earth
God made the sun and moon and all of the stars to
God made the flowers, just for the little birds
God sent the sides for the Bible to be made into words

Then God made all of the people, him, me, her and them
And he knows about all the good and knows about all the bad
He tells the moon when to hide and when for the sun to shine
He knows whats in your hearts, just like whats on your mind

He see's all of the people, he lisons to all of the kids
He looked around I'm sure, one time felling kind of blue
And said to himself, its time to make an Angel
So thats when he desided and then made you

Change is inevitable....
Deal with it. Most change, for me, is welcome. My wires got crossed at some point because unlike most who fear it, I embrace the unknown(sometimes literally via hugging strangers). But today, seeing change in action has made me sad, which isnt necessarily a bad thing. I mean, I think Im one of those people so jaded by the mundane that I enjoy feeling something, anything, no matter what form it comes. Its the closest Ill ever get to Tickle Me Emo("I cut myself so I can feel"). When I feel anything, I act as a catalyst to amplify whatever the current mode is, in appreciation to that rare sensation. Now I feel sad, so what do I do? What else, but play my playlist of sad songs and wish for more rain. Joni Mitchell, Damien Rice, Corinne Bailey Rae, Andre 3000, Mary J. Blige, and even Biggie Smalls(suicidal thoughts)- sing to me. Now my despair is so abject, it bleeds into public(semi, anyway) view. I hate it, and I love it. Its time for a roadtrip. Suggestions?

Emotions....
Fuel creativity more than any controlled substance could dream. This is a public servant announcement to all writers, poets, philosophers(ghetto and other), and observers of life: Pain is not the only emotion. In the words of a resurrected Dr. Martin Luther King to a passionate, enlightened youth- "Do what you can." You gotta enjoy the simple pleasures of life, like calling into work, and when the traffic lights all turn green in succession. Remember when you were a kid, and saying cuss words in secret was enough to provide hours of entertainment? Why is it the older we get, the more desperate the means of obtaining a smile become, the way a fiend ups the dosage trying to relive that first high? Simplicity...

It was a dark and stormy night.....
Actually, a bright and sunny morning. The door slammed. A shot rang out. A woman screamed. The TV was left on. More importantly, the door slamming was the bathroom door. But the bathroom door was broken- impossible to open by twisting the handle from either side. Our hero was trapped inside the bathroom, with nothing but his wits about him. His flatmate was already gone to work, and wouldnt return until that night. No cell phone, no nothing, and no one could hear him scream. He was stuck, and the clock was ticking: he had to be at work soon. He worked vigorously for nearly an hour, trying desperately to get the door open to no avail. He was getting anxious. Not having access to a clock, he had no idea what time it was, but knew it was time to leave for work. Using keen acumen, he looked around for supplies. An empty soap dispenser, toilet tissue, and a picture was all he had to work with. "Nothing" he said to himself "except for the clothes on my back... Hmm". With a stroke of genius, he took out the string of his pajama pants. Carefully, he slid the string between the crack in the door, and used it like a credit card to slide the broken apparatus aside while pulling and thus opening the door. Brilliant! He escaped his pottyful prison and made it to work nearly on time. This was the adventure of my morning. True story. The End...

Paris Hilton....
May be a spoiled, rich white girl who for some symbolizes the racial, economic, and social divides in America, but I still feel bad for her. Prison sucks, no matter what.

How much.....
Is too much? Berries and cream, berries and cream. Im a little lad who loves berries and cream! No homo. -j