From the winds and rain

of winter’s sleeves,

from the endless freeze,

and December’s clutch,

springtime came calling.

She rode the mist

with birth and resurrection,

with gospel grain,

with flowers and hummingbirds in her mouth,

she proclaimed your name,

 lit your love light

and sent lightning into your beating heart.

I was here, waiting to see,

not knowing

our glow would become one.

 I was only a lonely boy with brown eyes,

you, a girl with a diamond face.

We were let loose to drink up

all the glory and laughter 

our bellies could hold.

Time with her jealous ticking,

the fire of steadfast souls,

the golden mantra

and the twisting 

Pain

brought rain,

brought doubt

and shook the earth beneath our heavy feet.

The decades have tested us,

strengthened our minds and

Poured love into every part of us.

You have set me free

And let me shine

The way you first shined on me.

My Monster kid

carries a hotel bar of soap

when I see her.

She thinks she’s gonna catch me

catching her cussing.

My Monster kid

clips Sunday coupons

when I see her.

She hold her scissors with one hand

and begs from the yellow kitchen.

My Monster kid

lies on the floor

when I see her.

She lies to all of us about mathematics

Then screams into the bathroom mirror.

My monster kid

only sees herself

only hears her words

when she talks to herself,

holding a hotel bar of soap.

Knocking Water

on the water

webbed walls

calls the morning

to the sea.

Wooly clouds,

strung out on mist

and hung over from heaven’s.

unending

celebrations,

slide

under the Golden Gate

looking

to shape shift

for the Winter

And we sit around orange tulips

with our feet

in the cool grass

and talk about everything

D.A. Medina

The future has no formula baby…

It’s all Jazz.

It’s the ultimate improvisation.

No script,

No plot

Except the one that the Big Man got.

It’s not in your 401k

or retirement plot

and it’s most assuredly

not in the hole that your

head is buried in.

You thought you

thought it

Through

Quite thoroughly but in

real time

it’s just a giant knot

that they got you tangled up in,

They star spangled you up again

(Singing D’Angelo style) “And they laughin in yo face once again, got yo mouth up on they hook…one mo gin’”

It’s just the same old lies

strewn from the snake’s green eyes

In the Garden of Eden

with Eve and them

And after all that,

the wars and the bullshit reasons for war

after all the millions and millions

of innocent simple folks

Uncle Sam murdered by the bushel…

the smoke cleared

we all got in gear

behind television fear,

We forgot about the lies and believed again.

Amnesia is the state

that we ALL are licensed and insured in.

The Rat race marathon

where Nobody keeps winning

The Worldwide Web

That we are all happy to be stuck in.

The reason we all keep

running

in circles

trying to eat, drink,

sleep and watch the watch-box.

It’s all Jazz baby,

It’s the worst note

sung and hung on the wall

with the Karaoke speakers

And the speakers

aren’t speaking anymore

they are screaming

“Die you fucking shaved monkeys!”

“But die slow so we can get our flow…”

Drink your miller’s light

wear your team’s colors.

Swallow the pills

they give you

and wash it down with

sips from your diamond-laden cups

and try to find the time.

Have you ever seen Miles Davis tap his feet to find the beat?

Never my man,

Hey Man!

He was the master of improvisation

he rode that wind without a scowl or grin,

He is the reason

they stopped calling us boys

And reason we call each other men.

You all cannot bob your head to anything but a four-four,

What will you do with a 6/8 or a 12/8?

Five time?

What if it swings from Staccato’s branches?

Or hangs from Legato’s leggings?

It’s the new bowl of gumbo;

slung around the corner

on the first day that your pension plan kicks in odd meter (Somebody spent it)

The future is improvisation

my sissy boy nation!

Jazz is improvisation

And it’s the truth

And it never sounds the same anymore

the Truth wears no make up and has no agenda.

It’s everything that you think will last,

everything you thought would last.

You sweat up your shoes

pulled out your hair for the future!

You planned without the plans my man!

Does the architect build his dream house with dreams that he drummed up while dreaming?

I don’t know about you …but me? But I’m always scheming…

Never hoping or believing

I’m just banging

on my drums to whatever

Beat I choose in the

late

watered

down

evening.

Dog Days Down

In

The hole

With all my kinfolk,

we plot,

We scheme; more money,

less money,

sweat up your shoelaces until the big bell rings

Calling all us sinners

Back to the copper altar

Inside the brown church house.

Dog Days bleed

into

the apocalyptic sunset

Leaving us blue in the anxious evening tide.

Trying to pay the bills

piled on the dinner table

And

Not

Drink

Up

All the junk

They keep pouring

Down

The

Hole

We are all stuck in.

Dog Days leave me

Alone

With my messy thoughts;

Webbed in Fear’s Holy chalice,

Shaking

The dream dust from my tiny kingdom of hope.

My Dog Days dive deep

Inside summer’s sweaty

Sunburned skin,

Looking,

Always searching

For

Some

Way

To show that the finest diamonds

Inside

My Lion-Heart

Are

Worth more than this wide wasted world will ever know.

Amorcita ~

Big fat besos

Slide all over your face

While the sun

Lights up the world

And shoots diamonds

Out of your eyeball sockets,

They dance around

For a spell

Then spill

All

Over

My

Heart

Reminding my mind

Of the first time

You shined on me.

~D

TOPR the giant lived in a deep bootblack cave in the middle of the Santa Cruz Mountains. For breakfast each day he would eat an emcee and flush down their blood, bones and phony rhymes with an ice cream carton filled to the sticky brim with cheap warm beer.

The filthy giant had no heart, but indeed had a ghastly mind filled with foul thoughts that swam in and out of his molded mind like eels in a debaucherous pride parade.

Top Ramen knew that he must find a heart to balance his wild brain and bridle his foul flesh.

One day, while Topr was swimming in the river, face-fishing for his lunch, a golden catfish appeared to him. Topr the giant smiled a black toothed smile, licked the remains of his second breakfast from his beard and proceeded to grab the golden catfish by the tail.

“Please have mercy on me you strange-faced Giant! I know where you can find your heart!” screamed the fish, pleading for his life.

TOPR never cared what anyone said and he had never lent his ear to his prospective lunch, however, on this strange day the giant paused to listen, wiping the drool from his front tooth.

“Your heart is in Carolina Mr. Giant…you must travel far and wide, many miles must you roam”

“Your heart is in a field filled with exotic melons of all shapes and sizes, within one of these melons lies the golden Keliyawn seed!”

“You must find this Keliyawn seed and grow it into your heart”.

The giant wanted a heart but Carolina was many miles away. He sat by his fire thinking and chewing on a leftover fibula bone, “I must leave tomorrow to Carolina to find my heart!” declared the giant. He packed all he needed; 10 gallons of warm beer, some teriyaki emcee beef jerky, his “I Hate Amerikkka” T shirt, his radio and a few mixtapes. TOPR was off to find his heart.

After burning through two dozen D batteries he had come to the field of exotic melons. Since TOPR had eaten all the jerky on his voyage and was terribly famished, the giant began to viciously eat all the melons without regard for the rare Keliyawn seed. Luckily for our hero the golden seed fell into his pocket.

Since the foul giant had collected so much dirt and so many rocks in his pockets, the seed had found a fertile home. The beer that drained through his beard dripped upon the seed each night and within a few nights the seed blossomed into a golden heart.

Topr reached into his pocket and pulled out the heart.

“What is this?” He cried.

“I am Keliyawn, your golden heart, you must swallow all of me now TOPR and I will be part of you for the rest of your life!”

The giant swallowed the heart and smiled from the start of it’s beating, His heart was Keliyawn and they lived together from then til’ infinity.

The End.

D.A. Medina

aka R. Longfellow

I shall not fight the inner loon in my decaying carcass ,

I will not sedate him nor shall I clip his wings.

I will not burn

his freak flag

or silence

his

honking

brass kettle

when its time for tea and good graces.

I shall not sit

with another shaven monkey

trying to talk it through

when the loon wants to do the Hustle

all over the moon dust

that has scattered

along the paved roads of my mind.
If I lose my loon,

if I force him to leave me

and I bend into the world,

whom will I be?