New Year’s Covenant

God Is An Anarchist by vagabond ©

new years covenant
(antifragile)

i take the noise within the signal

i want the fury and the sound and the tempest and the rage

i want the unpredictable

i want the unsure

i want everything they can throw at me

i want everything they think will destroy me

i take the permanence of spray paint graffiti slogans to the streets

and then the impermanence of it when they paint over it

and then the permanence of spray paint graffiti slogans on their fresh paint

to create a permanence of the idea behind spray paint graffiti slogans

like god is an anarchist and the root of all love is the hate of all greed

when they hide the permanence of spray paint graffiti slogans under fresh coats of paint

the permanence of ideas will bleed through a bit

and ideas like god is an anarchist and the root of all love is the hate of all greed

will be tagged in permanence in your mind

i want the spontaneity of it

i want the friction to spark and flash in the night

i shift my weight ever so slightly when they come for me

to make a correction an adjustment

i want to see their faces when it all doesn’t all go according to plan

i want to see their faces when it crumbles and fades

i want the dust and the debris to settle before i rise

from the plans they had for me as i grin from ear to ear

antifragile

i want my tragedy to cease being their comedy

i want the chaos of anarchy to order things

i want the empire of doubt to be decolonized from my mind

i want to finally put these wasted years to some use

to take these mistakes and make them shine like stars

and use them as a means of navigation

- vagabond

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-UU

Forty Four

Forty Four Self Portrait by vagabond ©

A few things you should know about me…

i want to be an artist… i am an artist but being an artist is to be in a constant state of creation… being in a constant state of creation is to be in a state of desire, so i want to be an artist… i don’t want a career… i don’t even know what a career is… i heard it has something to do with money… but i hate money, money can go fuck itself… it’s a waste of fucken time… it’s a hamster wheel… a greyhound chasing a mechanical rabbit while the big boys place bets… a merry-go-round they won’t let you get off and the dj only has one record and he keeps playing it over and over… besides i want to be good and the hate of all money is the root of all good…

i fear, fear…

if i wasn’t so talented i would have killed somebody or a few somebodies long ago… someone important, someone who has it coming, someone who knows they should die for the shit they’ve done, someone who went out of the way to make the world worse than it already is because they’re better off for it, that kind of somebody, the kind of somebody that when they’re killed the other somebodies start to get scared but not scared enough to stop making life a misery for everyone else… ok, maybe not scared but at least nervous… it’s a long list i keep and someday i’m going to write it down… (it’s not safe to do so now you can be arrested for that kind of thing and me and authority had a bad break up years ago and prison would only bring us back together – but not in a good way)

art is the process of me trying to figure something out…

i’m not that smart but i try… i only finished high school and only on the advice of my parents who love me. but i didn’t let it stick… i took m. twain’s advice and didn’t let my schooling interfere with my eduction… i stay restless, do my best not to respect borders between nations, claim no destination, although i have been known to check my baggage and claim it later… curiosity has corrupted the better of me. the other parts are wanted by the cops and the tax department but i’m doing my best and leading by example by ignoring them… hopefully they’ll get the message and give up one day… there are few floors that i will not sleep on for a sunset in another part of the world or to see the moon from another angle on this blue-green marble. what i’m trying to say is that i like to travel… my chosen name is vagabond – no it’s not legal and if i had it my way nothing about me would be legal, legality is for those who don’t know better. i’m not smart but i know better and i try… schooling is a building with walls and doors and floors and windows and labs and gym and cafeteria and an auditorium and a principals offices… education is an open road and you learn something every time you’re on foreign ground… sometimes you’re asked to show your papers or your passport or your identification… sometimes you get lucky and they treat you like a human being and they just leave you alone to wander and wonder… and without a set destination the journey can take you… as opposed to you trying to take it…

when i die play the mix tape i made just for the occasion…

i want a jazz funeral and a second line parade with um-ber-ellas and hired professional mourners to make it look good, to fill the street, but don’t get a permit, just take over the streets, encourage others to join in as you pass them by, invite them to partake in the joyful defiance of traffic regulations, but for god’s sake don’t tell them it’s a funeral, it’ll only confuse the proceedings… scatter my ashes off the coast of coney island, let me become a part of the ocean, let the riptide take me to places unknown… then take three rides ride on the cyclone. once to shake the sadness from your bones, a second to shake the melancholy from your souls and a third time just to shake the happiness of living back in… and remember me only when you ride deno’s wonder wheel at that magic hour when the street lights come up but the sun hasn’t dipped below the ocean just yet and the orange at the horizon fades to light blue and then to ink blue and when you reach the apex of deno’s wonder wheel look out toward the atlantic…

you may see me in silhouette dancing on the razor blade that divides the sea from the sky…
- vagabond

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-Qe

The Shape Of Silence

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Consumerism silenced by vagabond ©

The Unmarked Graves Of Silence Reflected by vagabond ©

The Tombstones Of Silence Reflected by vagabond ©

Fade Into The Void Of Silence by vagabond ©

An End In The Distant Silence by vagabond ©

the shape of silence

this silence moves through the gaps in the shopping cart

because it refuses to be held

the tombstones of sound reflected

in the stillness of an unmarked watery graveyard

this is an illusion like any and all others

the ripples are simply too subtle to be seen

the sound too quiet to be heard

and it give a shape to the silence

it gives a form to the void

who would dare hypothesize that there was a shape to silence

who would have been bold enough to theorize that there was a form to the void

but how else would it hold us

and how else could we enter or exit

a shapeless silence or a formless void?

- vagabond

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-NZ

A Good Night

Drive by bridge shot by vagabond ©

One of those beautiful nights with nothing but this exquisite pain of living as I drive around really listening to the music speak to me…—
vagabond (@vgbnd) May 12, 2012

Good driving tonight windows down feeling the cool night air & my dog defying speed with her head out the window & the music moving thru me.—
vagabond (@vgbnd) May 12, 2012

The cop with the flashing lights can't stop me. I'm in sync with the pain & beauty of things as I keep a steady 65. I'm untouchable tonight.—
vagabond (@vgbnd) May 12, 2012

 

A Love Worth Fighting For

Love Self Portrait (circa 1995) by vagabond & resister ©

A Love Worth FIghting For
(for resister on St. Valentine’s Day)

all the disagreements
all the arguments
all the fights
all the bad blood spilled

it was all well worth it
and the next go round
will be worth it too
it’s just the pain of earning your love

all the stones thrown
all the insult upon injury
all the salt pushed into open wounds
all the old scars

to not suffer for this
would be to not understand it’s value
to not hurt for this
would make it disposable

all the dried blood stuck to gauze
all the choking from the fire
all the poison consumed
all the scabs picked clean

it was all well worth it
and the next go round
will be worth it too
it’s just the pain of earning your love

all the words forged into blades
all the tears shed
all the soreness from screaming
all the spent exhaustion

you make it all worth while
you can’t have something as valuable as a love like this
as a love like like yours as a love like ours
and not pay a higher price

- vagabond

Your Ad Not Here

your ad not here by vagabond ©

“You are not what you own”
- Fugazi from the song Merchandise

your ad not here
free to imagine now
we owe you no debt
empty these billboard frames
and leave them blank
as a reminder
of how close
we came to choking
on the unimportance of it all
your ad not here
free to imagine now
we owe you no debt
empty these billboard frames
and leave them blank
for each of us to imagine
a desire that cannot
be bought or sold
- vagabond ©