Newyears eve, breakfast of champions, the unintentional authors gather at julians, Coffee, eggsbenedict with salmon, and bloody marys were the menu choice. Our waiter had a mustache, and wore my levis, maybe even better than me. Tonight we go in our white, and black, and black and white, too tight to pull up, but white jeans are novelty! New year new year!!!

And then the women ran away with my hearts. All divied up into pieces shaped like me, in gingerbread form. "Too late" says the one, "I'm keeping it, your heart that is." She stole it. I never saw it again. She owns it forever and can call me anytime she wants to use it. Golden View with eggs over easy followed by a BJ in my truck. Is that why I invested my heart in her? I didn't think so, but that's the way it worked out. I love you Lord, and need Your grace in my life. Help to heal the emptiness in me.

P M

not by courtney................. by a friend

So here it is, the eve of new years eve, and here we are we three , in a smoky providence apartment drinking gin, smoking cigarettes, and writing drunken poems. Dan says he's genius, Parker hardly speaks, and I don't know what I'd say if any thing at all. Welcome to the new year, we're done with the sopranos in 2007, don't stop, don't stop, those were the words that ended the obsession. Whats next, what new adventures, and shit storms await we three sitting here with our gin, cigarettes, and drunken penciled poems.

I think it's time to quit. Not out of any morbid obligation to new years resolutions. I never make them, therefore I never keep them.

I cough with a sound like that of a lion

I wheez worse than an asthmatic playing football

I smell like your grandmothers over flowing ash tray

I'm not saying now, but probably before the celebration of the day that I was squeezed from betwixt my mothers loins!

A TRUE LIFE CONVERSATION

" So where do we go from here?"
"I'm not sure."
" What do you mean you're not sure? That's only half of an answer."
" What I mean is, I don't know where here is, and since I don't know where here is, and if I'm here but don't know where this here is, then how am I to know where to go if I don't know where I am. If here is an unknown point, how can I be expected to know where to go from a point unknown.?"
" So what are you saying? Are you trying to tell me that we should just stay put and never leave this spot?"
" No That is not what I am saying."
" But you just said that you cannot be expected to know where to go from here."
" Yes, that is true, but that doesn't mean we should go somewhere from here. Perhaps if we pick a direction at random, and just go we will be able to look back in a little while and see where exactly here is. But, then again our present here will become a past there, and the future there will have become the present here. Since we are here and don't know where here is, how will we know where we are when we get there? When we finally get there will we look back and see that the present here is in fact no where? And what if we go in one big circle and think that we have gone to a new here, and from that here, which now is a there, we will look back and see our own backs standing here, which we thought was there, but really was here all along?"
" OH my God! what are you talking about? Who cares, do you wanna just throw caution to the wind and just go from here?"
" No, I think I'll stay here and wait awhile."
" Alright then, I guess I'll go alone. So do have any idea where I should go from here?"
" I'm not sure."

Today's walk was nothing short of inspiration. The surrounding scenery of sadness, and volumes of desperation instilled some form of hope in my sometimes hopeless heart. Why leave? Why go back to my personal paradise, when there is a paradise to be made right here, not only for this individual with his fingers on the keyboard, but for all who cross paths with the individual who's fingers are on the keyboard, and even for those who don't? Why can't we change this place? There's no reason why we can't...

How would tell a newborn baby about the world that it had been born into? Would you say something like, welcome to a world where truth is scarce, and deception is the norm. Welcome to a world where nothing is sacred, and all things, faith or otherwise, are flushed down the toilet of higher education. Welcome to a world populated by "haves" and "have nots". Sorry little one, you'll most likely be a have not. Welcome to a world where women flaunt and use their beauty for less than stellar gains. Welcome to a world where men are, well, they just aren't men anymore. Welcome to a world where meaning is defined through meaningless possessions and goods. Welcome to a world that you have a responsibility to change, one person at a time. Now then little one, aren't you glad you decided to pop out of the womb today?

B7 Presents



A Rejoice-ed Christmas



Coming soon...

I was waiting for this time of day. This time of day when the beginning stages of the sunset turn my bone white linen curtains to a glowing pearl shade of color. It's warm, it's comforting, it's love. I was waiting for this time of day, and now it has come. I am warm, feel comforted, and I feel loved. Thank you sun (Son).



It's all about the little things.

At what point did I disappear? When did I lose myself in the layers of selfprotections and self interest. At what point did I disappear? I've been lighting matches against the wind, pointless actions that can't really produce anything of consequence, save flare and burn out, I'm losing things, I'm losing people. At what point did I disappear?

There is silence here, no motion ticking sloppy sounds into my ears, no bleeding through of bleating horns and and tire squeals. Your hair is a mess, and it's ok cause there is no sound of the judging minds wondering why you look so and so. It's quiet here, and so you can rest, you can wear an apron and cook a meal, you can eat it in peace and in silence, that's all that's here.

I thought that by coming to providence this weekend I'd be able to escape the doldrums of pouring cup after cup of boiling hot coffee, having to deal with self absorbed consumers who will jump for the most convenient option. I thought I'd be getting away for a while so that I could clear my head, so that I could think, so that I could spend some time with friends so that I could write a few stories, so that I could let my gray matter air out.
but you can't escape the things that make life what it is, the doldrums of pouring cup after cup of boiling hot coffee for the self absorbed consumers who jump at the chance for the most convenient option. The drama that always follows you, the expectations of others who don't even understand that expectations only hinder the growth process. This is life, this is what breathing in the air, filtering out the oxygen, and exhaling toxic fumes is all about. This is life.
So rather then try to escape it, I should embrace it, live in it, and find my peace of mind in the middle of it. A quiet afternoon with ryan, a pack of smokes, a glass of water, chopin on the record player, and a note book; suddenly the chaos quiets for a moment or two, it's never gone but its quieted for a few moments and sanity almost sneaks in. This is life

Dear reader,
You and I, we dance this crooked dance, in morbid grace. A waltz for mercy, and a pirouette on the edge of love . Never quite committed, yet never quite refused, we dance towards towards the future life and away again. To be sure our steps in tandem choreography glide, to and from each other and back again. We twirl, sway, spin, and swerve. Little giving, always taking, we're drenched in perspiration from the effort of maintaining this facade of graceful existence.
Sincerely,
yours

Love follows footsteps to echoey graves, hanging high, swinging feet inches from the ground. Lively steps surround the dead, the escaping few, the joyous just from work to rest. But you hold me close, you hold me close, you hold me close. And now I'm closer to your hell burning heart than we though to ever be. And I say we, when you say I ought say me. but I am two, the angel saint, and the devil times two. These are the we, or for your comfort, these are me. You ring my bell, you ring my bell , you ring my bell, and it is resonating in the head that my birth mother gave me, the ego that my father grew in me. So what's the catch? The catch you caught, it's my swelling swollen head.

We connect the dots, drawing God with our fingers, pictures and paintings of God in our likeness, slipping slowly into the role of limited deity, failed mothers and fathers. The windows leak sounds of the houses we built to hold in our secrets and internal lies. Those which were told to ourselves and only us, verbalized in synaps and neurons, thoughts and emotions. The off balance actions of the outwardly balanced mind , and oh the cheer of joyous occasion brought to light in civil deceit. I document the moment and forget the reason, release the idea in exchange for the ideal. I've lots of gaps in the memory, but really none at all, it's just words that I say to keep the wall of my house standing safe. But, I breathed in once, felt the breeze of freedom, the rush of the wind as it told me the secrets of truth. We are the wanders, the beggars, and liars, hoping for a future and fighting to protect safe our past.

Alexander

Alexander is a friend of mine, but not by any choice of ours.
We the two on stools, elblows on the bar, hands cuddling with glasses.

Alexander roams as I roam, no where to go no where in mind.
We the two strangers to the places we have been time and time over

Alexander does not exist, well at least in the sense of someone I know
We the dreamers who think about each other but do not know the other is real.

The road of lesser things is a softly padded road, one of comfort and ease, but one of discontent and unfulfilled joy.

Just when you think you've gotten into gear, life hits the brakes and sends you through the windshield. And when you're laying on ground amidst the shards of glass and twisted metal, you realize that you were traveling in the wrong direction anyways.

I am proud! A pride filled bastard even, not in so many open ways,
but it still leaks through the cracks of my humble shield.

There are many folks I meet who make me wish I was not squimish around blood.
for I would murder them .
perhaps it is a good thing that I am as such.

Our hearts are little machines. Tiny magnificent machines. Contrary to what you might have read, what you might have heard, or even what you think you might have felt, these machines do not break. Operator failure is the only reason these machines might malfunction. but they never do break, well actually they do break, but that only happens when you are dead. Did you know that we will all die one day? Well regardless of what you may or may not have heard it's true, we will all die, and when we our little machines will then break and not a moment before then. Our hearts are little machines. Tiny magnificent machines. These machines do not break.