I am a Perfect Cube.
I am all of Uranus’ moons.
I am Cobalt. But I’m not Cobain.
I own no white lighter, there’s no club I’m in.
(RIP Brian, Jimi, Janis & Jim)

I am the Hebrew alphabet,
Written in the books of the New Testament.
I am Old too, but split and multiplied.
I fix the Constitution of America,
Light up the land-lines in South Africa.
I’m the great Canyon Expressway,
From Fort Wayne to Miami, Florida.

I am a cowboy cigarette.
I am a prisoner of Château d’If.
I am lawns for croquet.
A Cracker Jack peanut.
I am Salinger’s death, and his missing chapter.
I am Napoleon, as a Commander.
I am a hurricane’s pressure and temp.
I am a bat, and can comically detect.

I’m the Reagan of radio.
And the length of the LHC.
I am Crispus Attucks,
But during the revolution
I’m the escape from ASCII.
I am the rotation of the sun.

I am 27.

This might seem strange, but I don’t think I’ve ever had a grasp on the concept of my own age.
I understand age as an abstract idea, like what point people typically start thinking about certain things in life, at what point certain body functions begin to deteriorate.
But when it comes to understanding how old I am physically and how I think about the world, I don’t really get it. In one sense or another, I’ve always felt that I haven’t followed any of the prevailing attitudes of what other people my age have.

And it could be entirely cultural. It could be that I don’t feel my age simply because I can’t fully identify with anyone around me and say “oh, I am just like them”.
But there seems to be this expectation that I should relate to others based on how close we are in age.

I’ve always beleived that you’re only as old as you feel you are, and so I’ve tried to live that. I remember being little and learning the meaning behind Louis Armstrongs “Young at Heart”, and realizing that staying young was attainable if you could think that way.

Many of the grown-ups I knew as a kid were kinda boring. When I was little, I was pretty articulate, and would often talk to grown-ups and ask them about their lives. I remember asking a teacher at a dinner party why he didn’t smile more often. He told me he didn’t know.
I just know that I don’t want to be that.


I thought the world was bright
My amber sun a glorious item
Living my life like it’s golden
Until your eyes lit me up

And nothing
could compare
To you

I thought life was melodious
Grand forests my choir
Waterstrewn pebbles my melody
Until you laughed

And now I know
can compare
To you

Your smile is genuine, radiant girl
Your eyes like sparks, darting and bright
Your limbs glowing cinnamon umber
Brown skin, you know I love your brown skin
And I want some of your Brown Sugar…

But not in the way D’Angelo meant it
Though I gets high off your love,
I’m lost without you
Can’t help myself
How does it feel…

Your mind is physical
Love is spiritual
Life is beautiful
Just like oil on my hands
Only to love you

I wanna get closer
Like Maxwell, Flack & Hathaway
You’re my Orange Moon
And my summer rain

And I know I haven’t told you lately
But your my very special lady
You give me butterflies, inside
Both the Jackson and Floetry kind

Unlike Macy… I don’t even try
‘Cause I have no interest in stumbling
Or saying goodbye
You keep me steady on my feet
Feet that let me walk up behind you
And kiss you
On your neck
And breathe…

Our emotions can grow
If we let them go
And loose ourselves
Inside a world of
Future Love Paradise

Personality with witty charm
And just enough gentleness
Your my Strength, Courage & Wisdom
My one true happiness

I never knew a luh–
A love like this
You’ve got to be something for me to write this

So if it’s not to much to say
Within your arms I’m born again
With the lights down low
And the window curtain closed

And if you’ll love me when my hair turns grey
Then everytime I hold you
I’ll hold you like it’s the last time
Whenever Wherever Whatever
I’ve just got to be
Got to be
Got to be down

I just want you around
I just need you around
I just want you around
I just need you around
I just want you around
I really need you around
And nothing
can compare
To you

I love you, Tamika. Happy Birthday.

I performed this in 2017 at Acoustic Thursdays at Peace And A Cup Of Joe

Wake Up

Lyric ideas for a song. Thoughts?

Wake up
This epoch is yours
As long as you are alive
Undermine the cooling embers
Span your limbs, crane your neck
And rise.

Chocolate Mahogany Almond


Dedicated to Tamika, in memory of our times together

I see you smiling through the golden autumn leaves
Skin of choice; Chocolate Mahogany Almond
Your face like a ray of sunset lemonade
And you make me feel all right

The grass is cool between our fingertips,
14 carat leaves underneath our backs
Moist warm earth beneath the lawn
Miles and miles beneath that

You soar over me like Supergirl
Riding the wind on the palms of my feet
Laughing worries away as we roll in the umbrage
Of our grand lion-yellow fireworks tree

This is what our lives will be
Talking about the world and tickling each other
Lying and napping in Indian Summer
Let us always stay as we will always be

I see you peering down the concrete arches
Raiment of choice; Orange Cocoa Dusty Green
Your face reflecting light from the river
And you make me feel alright

The petrified stone cool under our palms
Ancient railway rubble dusty in our hands
Hurling down columns of air
Miles of ant miles beneath our chests

You sit contently like a tiny Buddha
Listening to the words of my book
Looking up occasionally as I pretend no to notice
The smiles you radiate to the corners of my eyes

This is what our lives will be
Listening to each other and enjoying the breeze
Lying and napping in Indian Spring
Let us always stay as we will always be.

Poetry Ideas

The devil will tell you you 99 truths to tell you one lie.
The higher you get in the tree, the more people can see.
Give what is natural away.

Mixed Roots Business Card Birch Front.jpg
Mixed Roots Business Card Birch Front.jpg (Photo credit: benjancewicz)

See, I would be your Birch Tree if you would be my Mahogany
Or maybe even my Cedar
See, the hue of your skin tone is so deep
I can almost see the depth of your soul reflected in me
Being with you makes me want to do more than get a tan…

Pushin’ the Jag because you ran out of gas

You could be my star for the night
Before I move on
And shrink back into my meaningless life

Being in the pulpit don’t make you a saint,
Saying somethin’ you is, don’t make you somthin’ you ain’t.