Writing before Computers


It’s Amazing how much Technology has Changed. I’m only 26 & I can already say,

“I remember back in the day when all we had was pen & paper. We used to write in things called notebooks, journals or diaries. We read things called books. When we were interested in a familiar topic. We read magazines. For packing valuables, we had newspapers!

For information, we had libraries. Yes, kids. We had huge buildings where extensive catalogs of information was stored and shared via something we called a Library card. It looked similar to a excel page. We wrote our names in it and handed them to an administrator known as a librarian.


When we wanted to write something, we kept it to ourselves. We didn’t share that shit with strangers on a blog. We simply wrote until our hand cramped up and we were covered in ink. And no, it wasn’t a cartridge you put in a computer.

We had this stick looking thing with a metal tip. Sometimes, we stuck feathers on them for decoration. When we wanted to email someone, we wrote what’s known as a letter. If you wanted to text some, you had carrier pigeons.


Then, Apple came along and messed everything up! Now, we have e.books and kindles and pdf’s and mobile phones! All I had was this leather bound thing I put together using homemade paper I made out of pulp of old newspapers. Don’t even get me started on newspapers.

What’s black and white and never read newspapers! Now, we have websites, updates, RSS Feeds, and apps! We had to pay some little SOB to toss that news on our front doorstep! You should consider yourself convenience. You little whipper snapper!


Praise Apollo

All praise Apollo.

Divine Oracular of Delphi.

Patron God of Music and Poetry.

Fond conductor of the Muses’ choir.

You reverberate with light.

Like how sound vibrates off the lyre.

For this we praise your wisdom.

Master of knowledge and medicine.

May you protect us from the plagues.

In your name we pray.

Forever and ever.


The Vox Spell

Before I pick up a musical instrument.

Before I start the writing process.

Before I sing the first verse.

Before I recite a poem.

Before I lecture.

Before I speak.

As I listen.
I call on Sarawati to focus my mind.

I call onto Thoth to enchant my words.

I call Fu Hsi to speak through my fingers.

I call forth Hermes to improve my voice.

I call next Apollo to steady my hands.

I call upon Odin to shape my poems.

I call last Enki to lend me his ear.
May you help me with my writings.

May you help my diplomacy.

May you speak to me with reason.

May you help me find my calling.

May you help me develop my voice.

May you send me your messages.

May you teach me the universal language.

When will we rap? (it up)

What happened African American Culture? You used to be the shit. Jazz was like the Mount Everest of Music. You blew away white music, come on, Marching Band music? That’s the lamest shit ever.

Do you see rap being taught in College? Nope. Classical and Jazz.

That’s because Rap is like the country music of black culture. Yup. I said it.

In the beginning. Rap was a revolution. It painted the reality of life. Then- it became a marketing gimmick for suburban white misogynists- which is strange because that’s what country music used to be.

And, the Music Industry is all messed up. They expect you to dedicate your life to the craft, spend all your time mastering it, spend all your money to promote yourself, sell your soul to Satan- and then, maybe, with mass market appeal, the executives will own you and all of your music.

Wow. Do you want me too whip myself while I’m at it? My name is Def Jam. No, it’s Sony! My name is Def Jam. No, it’s Sony boy!

And what is with all these Rappers having past lives. I don’t even get to live in the present. Why do you get to live two lives when my family and country denies me one. I don’t get it. I just don’t get it.


In the short lived years of this life,

floating in this vast cosmic sea

Living here on ancient Gia’s,

beautiful green earth

I have come to experience,

many changes & many shifts

Having been swept away,

by the mighty winds of change

On nothing but an inkling,

and a whim

While being pulled into the vacuum,

of shifting polar winds

As it peeled the structured mind,

from its very core foundation

Into the unexplored region,

of yet another paradigm……..

My Robot Ran Off with my Girl

Why even try anymore? Why date? I hate dating. Its a job interview. I put in all this time and money waiting for the right one whose waiting for the day they can finally replace me with a machine.

I think that’s how our species will die. I think robots will get all the good jobs- composers, artists, teachers and presidents- while we waddle around in fear of when the robots finally decide take over the janitors jobs. The thing is they wont- not when they got connections to manufacturers with NASA contracts.

And this is why we are species is doomed. All the earth woman will inter marry with robots, becoming loyal wives, stripping the rust from his bolts every night before bed. I can’t keep up a woman loyal but bet a robot could. I bet that robot would transform the sex crazed she wolves from my everyday experiences into biblical angels of pure light.

Hanzel and Grettle, A Comedy

We all love the Brother’s Grim Fairy Tale. This is that story, written by memory after a camping trip.

Famine, death. Food is scarce. It’s kinda the key point. But anyway. A Woodcutter, which is like being a carpenter, but only at the very bottom, was chopping down branches and gathering wood in the forest to sell for food (which had to be expensive).

You’d think to yourself, maybe he should lay some booby traps, catch some mice or men, maybe a bugs bunny rabbit, but you gotta remember the food was scarce, and so were books, and the reading, writing and trap making comprehension of an Entrepreneur in Firewood. But he was proud fag haggler, for he was the best fag haggler in all the lands.

So him, his second wife and his two kids, Hanzel and Grettle lived during this time of famine. They were getting close to starvation at this point, even starting to slip out of it a little bit.

So the new wife takes the Woodcutter aside and’s like, let’s eat the kids. And dudes like, no babe, have faith in God. And she was like well, God is telling me that Hanzel still has some fat on him. And he’s like, that’s messed up, maybe we should eat you. And that’s when she stuck her butt in the air and muttered, “we can always make more kids. That is, only if the opportunity beckons” she said with a wink emoji.

The Woodcutter wiped the blood from his nose, had only unsexy thoughts and took a cold shower under the waterfall before returning home that night with some fish he found floating in a nearby lake.

Later that night, after fish and random herbs and grasses, he took her aside and is like, so I tell you what, God told me not to eat the kids but he didn’t say I couldn’t lure them deep into the woods. We could use some alone time he said with a wink and a nudge followed by a grunt and a chest beat.

Hanzel, paranoid of his crazy bitch for a step mom, overheard the conversation and was like, #WTF?

So he grabbed his week supply of breadcrumbs that he had saved up and was going to tell them about it when the time came but then this shit all went down and dad is so stubborn. That woman has him wrapped around her finger. So he grabbed a handful of breadcrumbs and put them in his pocket.

The next day the Woodcutter told the kids he needed his help in the woods. Hanzel knew it was game on while Grettle cheerfully put on her coat and boots, their step mom blowing them fake kisses from the shadows of the cracked open door.

Hanzel waited until he came upon an unknown part of the trail. Still, their father led them deep into the woods before vanishing. Grettle cried as Hanzel lead the way eager to make it back to the trail before dark.

This happened three days in a row which by this point, even Grettle knew what was up, but no one said a word out of fear of an all for one slaughter feeding frenzy. They hadn’t eaten now for a few days and Hanzel was almost out of breadcrumbs. Tensions ran high.

That night their father lead them deep into the woods, having been disrupted from his mating ritual again for another night, not to mention feeling pretty stupid for failing to a little kid. Took them deeper than he’d ever been before. This was creepy The Hills Have Eyes, Shakespeares Macbeth and Deliverance deep parts of the woods, the really scary parts where it’s easy to get lost. That part of the woods.

And it is here where the Woodcutter successfully slips out of the picture. Hanzel has long since run out of breadcrumbs, and the ones still around, now long since eaten by the birds. The Woodcutter, upon realizing this, after noticing a few speckles of breadcrumbs along the trail, weeps on his way home to bang his wife.

Hanzel and Grettle get super lost before stumbling upon Micheal Jackson’s original blueprints for his Never Never Land Ranch. This two story paedophile’s wet dream is made of gingerbread with chocolate doors, liquorice gutters, Bubblegum Roofing Shingles, and everything in your wildest imaginations. Reminds me of Charlie Chaplin’s Turkey scene in The Gold Rush, a food induced hallucination sequence.

This, however, is not a hallucination but private property of the Super Elite, a retired mistress of an ex. Tyrant. A sweet old lady who invited them in after watching them eagerly eat her butterscotch doormat. “I have fresh meats, loaves of bread, plates of pasta, cream, cheeses, all of every variety if you’re hungry for more than just sweets,” she said with a charm.

“Do you have any vegetables?” asked Grettle. “NO. Only Salad Dressing” replied the sweet old lady and an Original member of the Behavrian Illuminati. “What do you eat?” asked Hanzel. “I’m on a strict diet” replied the sweet old woman, infamous Spider Widow of the Innocence. “Oh”, they thought and ate portion after portion of meats, sweets, baked goods, Creamy pasta, and cheese dips into a food coma.

The brother and sister woke up inside a giant metal cylinder, naked, tied back to back and glazed in honey. But thankfully, the pot was brittle from years of use that it quickly dissolved when you kicked it.

They scrambled towards the kitchen when they saw the sweet old lady and Independent Satanic Worshipper fast asleep in her bed made from infants bones. They got a knife from the drawer and cut themselves loose when they noticed she wasn’t in her bed.

Then they saw two bright red eyes. That sweet little old lady wasn’t so sweet no more. They stabbed, and punched, and kicked and killed that little old lady until they were sure she was dead. And then they chanted an Ancient Druidic spell and burned the body in the fire pit.

The Next day, Hanzel and Grettle went home with leftovers to tell of the goods news- and the bad news. Their father apologized for letting sex get in the way of child rearing. And they forgave him and lived happily ever after. And their skanky step. Mom. She died from a vaginal infection.


The Vox Spell

I pick up a musical instrument
I start the writing process.
I sing the first verse
I recite a poem
for the times,
I decide to lecture
as I speak,
or as I listen.
I call on Sarawati to focus my mind.
I call onto Thoth to enchant my words.
I call Fu Hsi to speak through my fingers.
I call forth Hermes to improve my voice.
I call next Apollo to steady my hands.
I call upon Odin to shape my poems.
I call last Enki to lend me his ear.

Too help me shape my writings.
Too let me develop my voice.
Too develop my diplomacy.
Too teach me the universal language.
Too speak to me with reason.
Too send me your messages.
Too help me find my calling.

Guardian Gate

On this beautiful summer day.

I look out and see the flowers.

Yellow, orange, blue and violet.

Oh, how such beauty surrounds me.

As I look out towards the sun.

Watching it falling from the earth.

I see the sun shinning off the Shinto shrine.

I think to myself about how-

great spirits must dwell among the leaves.

While inspiration has been ignited-

in the form of two Haiku’s.
“The Guardian gate.

Toji shrine dedicated-

To the Shinto gods”
“Protect us spirits

From the evil entities.

Outside the temple.”

Joke of the Day, Pistol Whipped in 2112

I hope someday they make self aware guns that explodes on emotional impact. “Sorry, Dave; you never took proper maintenance of me”. “Baby, I oiled you every day and maid sure safety always came first”. “Yeah, well when was the last time you took me apart and cleaned all my gears” says the gun exploding into a million pieces.