Writings: Dear wonderboys and wonderettes and other assorted stragglers

Dear wonderboys and wonderettes 
and other assorted stragglers


Trust your impulses, they are directions, not judgements, nor weakness,
They are your map to the truth of who you are and its needs.


A man who trusts himself never feels outnumbered, even if he is


There is no greater or higher number than one
When you and your aim are one 
You can never be outnumbered.


Sam Cooke 'LIVE AT THE HARLEM SQUARE CLUB 1963' is as good as it gets.
If it gets better than this, then you are already in heaven overhearing Angels


If you wanna get your deep deep blue light post midnight groove lubricated,
Take Isaac Hayes 'HOT BUTTERED SOUL' to bed with you and you will stay warm.


Spirit helped Isaac design it to be both a highly spiritual as well as deeply sensual
Experience and with a war going on, the least we can do, is to make more love!


The baton that you are handed off to is not yours, the baton you take is yours.


Foot go in easy but come out hard


The tree of life accepts whatever blossoms from the branch and recognizes nothing as
Aberration but as more unique expression and necessity unveiled.


Looking after your obligations increases your favours!


The internet allows creative expression to co-exist with impulse in real time and this is its greatest prospect to me as an artist, that real time can be fed by sparkles of eternity as
It goes.


Be assured , your God honours you as you honour yourself and honouring yourself pays honour to your God. That's what I call: a win - win proposition.


Politics exist in order that the Laws of the Jungle find a more civilized form of exchange and as a measure of keeping the Lions handicapped so that the earth does not tilt too far into their mouths.



I came to a conclusion
That boxed me in
And blacked out the landscapes
Where my sheep were grazing 
I lost my virgo ( balance )
And took a hazing 
For a spell Grace was 
Nothing close to amazing 
I was spitting fire 
Way up from the deep 
I was throwing stones 
At things that moved
I was quarreling with 
The worms of yesterday
And this scared tomorrow's
Birds away



Once I fought a legion's army 
In praise of the seven sins
If they were good enough 
For our fathers 
They were good enough 
For my men
We goaded dragons
into battle
By taunting them
With firewood
We collected the bones 
And built new weapons 
We gambled with our 
Neighbour's debts 
And mapped out exits 
Where once were veins
We came to see virtue 
As but another veil 
That drowns a man 
Beneath his snake
And steals the value 
Of his stake 
Then assumes the shape
Of rigor mortis 
And places a question
Where his mouth is 
The tigers of our youth are parked 
Next time, 
I bet the tortoise.


A special shout out to my dear friends the Brothers of Assisi 
As cool a bunch of guys as I have ever met! For you I vicariously rock on,
For me you vicariously pray, for me you are practical down-to-earth
Specialists in the Art of humility.
Me and Francesca love you and we'll see you soon!
A special shout out also to the Pope!