I stalked prey
Late at night
And just after dawn

They didn’t know me here
The hills, the sustain
The pain of the day

The rush of walking
In another’s shoes
In following the path

The risk associated with
Faking most days
In camouflage

Something that wouldn’t
Be suspicious, or wouldn’t
Stand out

Is it improper
To hunt without
Wearing your pith?

It’s the genetic survivalist
In me praising the brilliance
Of taking truth with a twist

Not lying
But telling half-truths
And leaving the rest behind

Left for dead
In the wastelands
Of time as I step forward

A falsehood
A prey in sight
A hunter in flight


Truth Project

The Truth
Will set you free
It’ll lift you high
Above the sky

It’ll know where
Home is
And it’ll show you
Where you’re going

It might be loud
And it’ll kill you
If you misuse it
It’s a great tool
You need to never
Abuse it

It can carry one
As it flies along
Little extra room
For dance or song

It’s heavy
It’s gracile
Paradoxical is its
Middle name

Have you got a
Point B in mind?
Project Truth
Will take you away.



The truth is different
From proof, in an instance
Where you must decide
To pick a side
And choose reality
Over perception

Bother not with asking “if..?”
Focus on being it
Exist for what you desire
Know that if it comes to the wire
You can change anything
For your better

Last thursday doesn’t matter
No butterfly flaps care
About you or your wants
Don’t plan to do
Things far from now
Always do whatever’s next



You can’t begin to perceive
How high above the sky is
Or count the particles cloutless
In a cloudless atmosphere

Are they really there?
Have you felt a cloud?
Have you ever touched a mountain
And known it to be?

Are the stars vast projections?
Is the world we stand on real?

We all have our own stories, don’t we?
What a shame reality is different than truth
What you perceive, you can’t be sure you do
What a crime that people even made up time

Engram Mafia

Engram Mafia

The statues cover up crypts and tombs
The stations emit things known only to few
Radio and T.V. controlled by an empire
They all bow to a respected emperor

Why do the plaques and posters
Reflect the engram mobsters?
With extortion and racketeering they thrive
Off of things which are no longer alive

Don says to “Remember our elders”
As he sits on an old wooden chair
His car’s license plate has two digits
His lackeys before him are nervous, and fidget

He’ll roll up to an amon store
In his ’36 Atlantica Coupe
Politely demand this month’s cut
Or threaten to shoot up the pawn shop’s front

Just one of many payments today
On to the next he sped, no delay
His way of life, with every breath
Protection money, for those undeathed

Don Juan liked getting his hands dirty
It was early in the morning, only 8:30
The boss of an empire liked working in the field
To indulge in its practice and share in its yield

While hitmen plotted and schemed on his life
Don Juan was at home with his daughters and wife
The mobster was a loving family man
As the C.I.A. listened from a street-side spying van

The Don was as powerful as a pharaoh
He ruled over skycraping pyramids downtown
Bribed a corrupt police force to turn their cheeks
Now they were Don’s blind puppets and scarecrows

Henchmen out to protect their credence
Don Juan’s aim, to suppress their freedoms
With their life and traces and will they pay
To live ignorant luxury from day to day

Progression is in the eyes of the beholder
The truth is believed by those none the wiser
Told to feel what they feel and fight for a meal
The contract is signed and there won’t be new deals