she shakes the stars from her eyes

the rivers from her legs

and steps forward to walk the earth


he shakes the clouds from his head

the roots from his feet

and steps forward to walk the earth 


they walk the earth, together


lay together


they shake and rake the earth

plunge its depths

pull forth cranes and cars

sidewalks and skyscrapers


form theories and myths

books and laws

councils and tribunals

cities and countries



we walk the earth

and talk

and lay 




under the weight of our makings

in our eyes,



and feet, 

forgetting to shrug and remember 

that we were once children

of the stars, clouds, rivers and roots.


(Source: lebuc)


i wouldn’t be so arrogant
to deign to drone on and on
in the hope that my peppy way
with a word or two
would merit me indulging upon you
day after day
line after line, verse upon verse
oblivious to the cursive curse
of a meglomanic - i wouldn’t be;

as a righter of corporate wrongs
with a desire and digital dexterity
would not be so arrogant to persist
in trying to tip the scales of justice
ever so slightly as ballast toward level,
away from tilt -
and desist the attempt to move
darkness aside, favoring light
as with a soiled blanket to the wash,
nah - he wouldn’t be so arrogant;

as the one who spies, it’s said
on established strongholds
in the public realm, to reveal
that kept hidden - unjustly so
from the public discourse, in the belief
that an informed public is a public more free
to what end, it matters not
for freedom shall always be
its’ own reward;
that one - should she not so arrogant be?

so line after line, you shall receive
(for those so inclined, you’re free to leave)
verse upon verse shall be your curse
the length of which, though unrehearsed -
i will write til i’ve quenched my thirst
‘til my sullied soul no longer bursts,
about anything that occurs to me
on this day - or any other - in my own way;

should i only be so arrogant.

(Source: lebuc)

do. that.

If you’re gonna tell me
about a dispute or anything 
where people are seriously engaged
in a contest or struggle -
peacefully or violently;

I just have one thought 
to leave with you: 

keep fucking score!

I’m a baller from way back,
and though everything in life’s
not analogous to a game, 
a lot is -

and I’m not listening
to any one or source 
giving me a story that’s incomplete.

I need a ‘box score’.
I’m funny like that.

Damned if you gonna tell me 
about a contest, war
domestic dispute, whatever…
and only give me the stats for one side.

Do you know how fucked up is it to hear,
“Yeah! We scored 92!”
..and that’s it.

What the hell did the other team do?

“She just snapped!
Took a pot of hot water and just
threw it in his face!”

(while he was reading his Bible…to cancer survivors…)

A bomber just killed 17 people
at a Mall in Anytown;

(Anytown’s corrupt regime  
just legit public servants,
with no oppression and/or murder of civilians 
to achieve their own ends, right?)

So stop with this bull
of one sided reporting.  Of anything.  Anywhere.
Just. Stop. It!

At least give the appearance,
make an effort,
give a brother a crumb or something,
of context,
a nuance or two,
a holistic view,  

Or just say, “Just so you know, 
this is gonna be totally one-sided…”
Then I can consider myself forewarned.

Just know that
if you want to have a civil exchange with me,
if you have even a trace of respect 
for my intelligence and desire to know
what’s really going on;

then that shit I said above,

do. that.

(Source: lebuc)

the ways

how do I love thee?
like any other person, i s’pose  
sometimes I do good
& you smile -
we smile;

sometimes i fuck up
we argue & hurt, 
for an hour or three
but we always make up 
then we’re ok
how do you love me?
pretty much the same
i expected you to be better
than i  - you’re not
that’s okay too, ‘cause we do love
in our own way 
& we’re ok,

(Source: lebuc)



for gentle persuasion and pace
grace us with your infinite presence
impart us a lease of perpetual peace
to never cease, but to depart from the spaces
where rodent races lace the week-days, in a
virulent virtual verbal haze, only undone
by an unctuous herbal chaser for one;

we’d be pleased to place our easy lounge chairs
out in the fresh air to make ourselves aware
of the brave new whorl in the tempest out there
as it’s only fair to suggest to the suggestible
what’s morally defensible but mostly undigestible;

to fiends removing the fun from the fungible, fleeing,
fumbling and stumbling into their furtive burrows
startled by armed mumblers with brows of furrows
and the heated hubris of filmed half-hearted heroes
in the throes of their selfish faux-reinvented e-woes
of an elven possession too hellish to mention…


(Source: lebuc)


The echo
of your hearted mouse click -

(dispatched an impulse, 
transmuted ’cross nether tethers 
of light and lightning
through pathways and relays
to my humble, receptive lair 
of luminescent screen)

- inflamed the hell out of
my hearted blouse.

(Source: lebuc, via lebuc)


words ooze,
phrases melt onto the pavement
this sweltering July afternoon

would that your heart flowed as easily
into the me-shaped hole
i’ve become
for you.

(Source: lebuc)

unchanging (lit-hop mix)

we can take solace or sneer
at our essence,

our weighted souls
beat down and keep lidded
the refused refuse
at their reactive core

requests of the infinite mind
can’t rewind our constants;
a vocation or conversation
won’t unbend your yen

as you grope and grapple
with your rebel’s hand, dealt

you can bet it or fold,
but any ace will tell you
if you’ve got a pair -
you use ‘em.

(Source: lebuc, via lebuc)


there’s a gap
separating you and me

which can’t be closed
by any number of words
we write to each other

fond hopes and well wishes
can’t begin to fill
this chasm

so put down your laptop,
answer the knock at your door -

it’s me.

herring *

Hook, line and sinker.
hook, line and sinker.

I fell for it;
the hustle -
the shimmy -
the flim-flam -
the oke-doke -
the monty, the 3-Card monty, the Full Monty! -
whatever the cliche,
i went for it;
like a kid running after an ice cream truck 
on a hot summer day.

i bit,
and never saw it coming.

thought i knew people, thought i knew myself;
thought i could read em
if not like the back, at least like the front of my hand
after all, it is my hand we’re talking about
(don’t snicker);

Just when i thought i’d seen it all
and heard it twice over,
she walked in;
and from there, it was all downhill
and ‘daisies if you do’ **
and i did,

Here, now
35, three kids, a dog, fishies,
no longer talking like a two-bit noir
ne’er do well ( well, sometimes…)
oh, and her.
she’s the hook - no
the bait;
the wife,
the pooh,
the better half,
my queen,
my empire,
my lighthouse of tranquility
in the roiling tempest which is my life.
…and i love her.
heart her,
love. me .some. her.
she be the one i be lovin.

it happened so fast,
espying the dust on the shell
on my former shelf,
from my unique vantage point
of the easy-chair, when
‘I coulda been a contender.
I coulda been somebody…
let’s face it…’;***

All because i fell -
‘got had, 
been took,
run amuk,
led astray….’ ****

Now, you get the picture
don’t you?

**   doc holiday, tombstone: (1993)
*** terry malloy, on the waterfront (1954))
****  malcolm x, malcolm x: (1992)

*  sucker punch - entire movie!: (2001)

(Source: lebuc)

Good morning, my sepia-toned avatared followers!

  (how cool is that - last month the tones were all blue…)

Good morning, my sepia-toned avatared followers!

(how cool is that - last month the tones were all blue…)


attending to
that hot new artist
everybody’s hyped about
like a pop music single
charting & certified

i totally
failed to notice
your story you spent
so much time living & working on
to distill and share

i’m hoping
it becomes legendary
like the fabled ‘b-side’
of the vinyl records
of old

coming out of nowhere
to eclipse the promoted ‘hit’ side -
and shock the nation

the same way
it has captured my
eyes and ears

& swayed
my cheatin’ heart.

odette to a bean


neurally charged 

after just one smell

straddling a stool, sipping

a tidy inversion of hell.


(Source: lebuc)


uptown to Hedo’s
wednesday night jam;
bongos tucked beneath my arm
fuck skinnys,
my 501’s still righteous - and black
if i do say so & i just did;
tan laced oxford boots,
sienna silk tie, loose - cause i feel like it
coconut oiled, trimmed beard;
smelling good
& feeling funk-ish

(Source: lebuc)



Sculpting smoke signs

in the sky

serene, mint julep cool

his mind’s eye.


Diamond-dreaming hues

from shadowland and beyond


full-blown, billowy ‘isms’

able to stand and do battle

on their own.