Identified as a trouble maker by the authorities since childhood, and resolved to live up to the description, Charles Carreon soon discovered that mischief is most effectively fomented through speech. Having mastered the art of flinging verbal pipe-bombs and molotov cocktails at an early age, he refined his skills by writing legal briefs and journalistic exposes, while developing a poetic style that meandered from the lyrical to the political. Journey with him into the dark caves of the human experience, illuminated by the torch of an outraged sense of injustice.
Michelangelo Said to Diego Rivera, by Charles Carreon
Standing straight up here and now The world is on fire consumed by flames One thing only remains, Desire, and that by a million names.
Who shall measure the metes of the expanding universe between the span of his hands? Who shall hold all life in the hollow of her palm In the heart of a fertile valley, Where a thousand rivers bloom?
No one conquers all questions. All die to some extent unfulfilled. The trick to appreciating that is not so difficult. Just laugh ...
Our true nature abides Like the sun in eclipse, Obscured by the dark disc Of a coal-eyed moon. The only difference is this -- The sun is obscured by a stone, While the shadow cast by flesh and bone Upon the inner eye Is at most a figment, At worst a lie.
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An eclipse lays to rest the illusion that the moon is self-luminous, and reveals the sun to be the sole source of light. It has also been said that when the thinking mind is eclipsed in meditation, then only are the stars of the true nature visible.
I saw two spectres dancing in a mirror, enchanted with each other, in the darkness of an empty room, to music only they could hear. I saw the spectres powerless and begging, collapsed inside the glass in pain. The spectres longed to touch, but their world was all appearance and contact eluded them. Eventually I had to leave them so their suffering could end.
The moon bounces around the earth like an odd gear looking for a place to rest. Never finding it, She's taken to flirting with the situation, tantalizing all who view her with her endless oblique glances.
There's a moth in a flickering light bulb; It drew too near, but didn't get burned, Just trapped inside the light, And now it can never turn itself off.
I was a young kid out of high school Way too soon She was a willow-wand Blonde as the sun The world was a hot place With water here and there The shade of the cool trees Was always where We would love With the innocence of childhood, With an angelic grace We would love Away all the hours that we could take We would love Like innocent flowers In eternal embrace It's time for love So throw off the chains, Don't be afraid to say
The kids come along then And love fills the room Her heart is open to every little wound She feels what they suffer, She makes it her own pain, And the only reward she asks Is to do it all again
Out of love with an innocence of childhood with an angelic grace It's just love She has in abundance It shows in her face A mother's love Is the one sure thing You'll take from this place A mother's love A mother's love A mother's love
You can buy her a card, son, Or any little thing Just one thing you must not Forget to bring Your innocent smile now, Your loving face That's the only treasure That can't be replaced She needs love 'Cause she has given all She had to you Wants your love There's no other thing That you have to do You need to give To the one who gave to you A mother's love A mother's love A mother's love A mother's love
Don't buy her a card, son, That's not quite the thing Unless it's got love, son, No joy can it bring Bring her a flower A kindly word Ease her hours as she fades Into the waning of the day
Yeah, I'm just an old guy But I know what I say A mother's love will not fade away No her love Will not fade Not today, not tomorrow, Not any other day A mother's love lasts forever Until that happy day When she finds her own mother In that perfect Mother's Day Mother's Day Mother's Day Mother's Day
(dedicated to Gary Webb, Judy Barry, Danny Casolaro, and all the other victims of dirty wars against not only human freedom, but basic dignity)
Multiple gunshot suicides, Too many goddamn of them. Multiple gunshot suicides, What do you think about them?
Two bullets to the head, That muthafucka’s dead. You can tuck him in one last time He obviously wasn’t fine, He’s a multiple gunshot suicide When the sirens roll, He’ll take his long, last ride To the undertaker’s vault, Well it’s nobody’s fault. He got mixed up in somethin’ I don’t know nothin’, But it ain’t nobody’s fault Anymore.
He’s a multiple gunshot suicide Time to take him for his long, last ride, You can write his name in the record books, But look away now friend, No long last looks. He’s a multiple gunshot suicide Time to bury his name with his shame He knew he was playin’ a dangerous game, So when the sirens roll, He’ll take his long last ride To the undertaker’s vault, Well it’s nobody’s fault. He got mixed up in somethin’. I don’t know nothin’ But it ain’t nobody’s fault Anymore.