Dear Eagles, Falcons, Hawks, Doves and abandoned estate-less Earls…

I am reminded of the time that the venerable British rock weekly NME asked, for its year end issue about 8 music personalities to pose as the historical figure most crucial to the unfolding of their life. Specifically not; who is your favourite or; who would you most have liked to have been but,"which figure has had the greatest impact"? Realizing now that it was a set-up, at the time I answered; JESUS, because well, I was in effect raised by priests, people of the cloth and an honest answer turned out to have been the cause celebre a few were looking for to dispose of me. Now, my addition to the set-up the NME photographed; "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke", was probably even by the standards of the day ill advised, yet I was moved at how little if at all controversy attended the JESUS pix of another artist, ZODIAC MINDWARP. I saw how magically ok it was to pose as a biker tattooed as the son of the big G with naked chicks and sundry inked on your arms as long as you are not a darky, (which seemed to the estab the greater sin).
Especially since his historical appearance would've been closer to me than a Brit. I was also very moved at how little if at all I was defended during the whole furore by the NME after it sold the pix to magazines all over the world. Without the context that the original photos were commissioned for, I got literally crucified – again. Despite the boon I was to their circulation, these cowards never once stepped to my defense as men would have, or so the green me thought. I realize now that it was pre-text for a government takedown and that even were they inclined to defend me, they more than likely wouldn't have been allowed. JESUS killed me twice so far. As a child when I was not suffered even to breath the thick moth filled southern air without his name preceding my breath , and again as a young man painting my portrait throughout this world, even as I was evaluating it. I, even through the deepest hardship, have always known who I was and why I was here. For the establishment to have used that incident to steal from me I am certain have done them not too many favours. Once, as green as both sides of a dollar bill (and as confident) I rocked Britannia like her name was Tanya
and like she was rocking in my waves, and this truth before GOD the father, I loved her. Then as cool as she came, she "yanked" the foreskin off my charm and ardour fell, found new harbour (if not fresh shoals) and moved on. To this day, I cannot find myself in England as I once was. Even the statuary mocks what once I knew of innocence, what once I knew of spring. All the rest was absorbed by the lawyers as all the rest usually is……….


This space kept open for probable police inspection, if necessary, of course.


All in all I don't tend to do too well in countries run by monarchs. We learn our lessons slowly if we learn at all.


Contraband storage. 




This space may serve as a dressing room for cross dressers!


Serve the spirit of the music and she serves you. She will provide you with all you need to serve and prosper if you are good to her and if you remember to put her first. She will even bring a good woman to you. Most women are just as jealous of another woman as they are of anything that you love more than them, including the spirit of creation itself. Let the record company find you a partner, and she will rip your mind into more pieces than you can count (although by the labels count , you'd still be unrecouped). And though the paparazzi may love her ,you have become more estranged from the spirit which delivered you. SAMSON could tell you all about the strength he lost from running after DELILAH. His losing his hair to her symbolizes the danger of losing the mind to what cannot replace it. Once he laid his locks upon her lap, that's where his mind stayed while she drained it , then mocked him for losing his power and lustre….


Every SIVA/Shiva has as well a self destructive nature. A good wife is a reprieve for SHIVA and his mendicants. Some days, I live to destroy what on other days I strain to conjure, and there is as much delight in fresh destruction as there is in inspired creation.


His space kept free in case Vladimir Putin wants it (and I ain't arguing you dig?)


Condom storage!


Having said that (and having meant it) I am available as a speechwriter if I am moved by the cause or person. My fee is likewise flexible.


The good young SENATOR from ILL. MR.OBAMA is a fine natural writer and he should continue to keep the language fresh and real. Well done!


This space kept open for uranium storage.


Generally , Italian culture doesn't care if your new thing sounded like your last . They tend to ponder only whether or not they feel it and if they can feel your heart in it. The rest they are happy to leave up to you as the content provider. Expression is everything to this immensely expressive tribe, who fit language itself into the western mouth.


A chill out spot!


Who serves the spirit of music serves the spirit of the hours.


If you can fit your member in this space, please do not tell anyone.


The dangerous thing about peace, is that too much of it will kill you.


The future will see artists having work commissioned just as in the days of the MOZART and his homies. In the future it won't matter to freelance writers whether they are writing upon request for SONY or MERCEDES . COCA-COLA already has a music budget so if they wished to support artist projects that suit them, they will. These are different times and artists are forging new alliances. There are companies who have already expressed the desire to work with the magic of music without all of the censorship that crippled the selling of it before(I speak of musical and not lyrical). For those still enamoured of the corporate way, other options are coming to harvest.




….grows point exclamation the bigger the , gets Keys Alicia older The


The older ALICIA KEYS gets, the bigger the exclamation point grows……


The laws of the dead are designed to kill the living and replace wisdom with morality. Wisdom IS it's own morality.


I know who my enemies are. I also know that W/O them, life wouldn't be as sweet.


The dead have laws that the living are forced to abide.


I merely had a DREAM that I was Keith Richards, and still woke up with a hangover!


Simply know who you are, and leave the rest to time.


What the industry took from me in glamour, came back to me as stamina.


Has your breath ever smelled so bad that it woke you from your sleep? 
(that was a poem)


No man (or crew) can have or own me; that is not my attitude, it is my sentence.


I am reminded of the preponderance of irony in our existence. Although forbidden to listen to anything that wasn't designated gospel as a child, the music of the BEATLES turned my inner radio on and it were as if the voice of heaven itself woke me up and started me on my way. Music is another form of worship and its own religion and political party, and if you are called to her, called by her, then you will be both kissing and cursing her for the rest of your life. At the age of 2, I recall our apt. in EAST ORANGE NJ and me being spanked for running around the house naked singing "I WANNA HOLD YOUR HAND". Across the street from us was my babysitter, a beautiful Scottish woman by the name of Mrs. McIntyre who could not have her own children and so really enjoyed spending time with me, and we'd together get excited whenever the FAB FOUR hit the airwaves. This would have been 1964. The irony is to be found in the fact that the same Beatle music that saved my soul as a child and inspired me, were the same songs in the hands of the great MICHEAL JACKSON that were used as leverage and insurance to ensure that my last life was damaged and held in check by his business partners at SONY. Once he made SONY partners with him on the greatest song catalogue in pop which didn't have DYLAN's name with it, I was toast like melba and became that king in the dungeon with the iron mask. I was never thereafter allowed more than minimal promotion and maximum bullshit, and a headache the size of TEXAS. With what pride that remained I gathered my senses, took direction from my meditations (and solace) and waited for my dear friend SHIVA to avenge my grace. I was also informed that allegedly GOATS were killed by some VOODOO priest in my honour which had the effect of turning me into a vegetarian for 13 long ass years and one who, wherever I went in the world had to watch his back. As well, another superstar's manager made sure that the 'rock' market stayed dead to me. At a party in Hollywood, pretty much everyone was there, (incl. MADONNA, W. BEATTY, ELIZABETH TAYLOR and the genius master BACHARACH) and though for a spell we stood right next to each other, literally back to back, never once would he as much look at me, much less speak to me. Since I can never remember saying anything negative about him, I never got why he was so mad at me, but trust me, I soon got over it. I met my karma. How futile the time we spend opposing the other workers in the field and forgetting in our sleep, the consequences of our assassinations. Life was never the same again for him either and last time I checked, he was in the desert somewhere (bless his troubled heart). The moral is that while the gifted Mr. Jackson may have been good enough to fill his own formidable shoes at the label, he wasn't great enough to fill 2 (his and mine). The music that brought me to life was the same music used to silence me and seal my coffin shut………and if that ain't ironic, then I do not know what else could be .




I love the life I have now though it does come with a price. I am heavily ostracized by the same industry I was sent to help shift into the new age (more irony? They still take from me anyway-it seems that my ideas are ok, as long as it's not me realizing them). Yet the windfall is how few really boring and tone deaf executives I have to listen to, and the great benefit that it has on my psyche. Most of all, my confidence is back, although I am not always sure whether it is my own or just on loan from the blessed SIVA.


This space kept free for positive prayers.


Among the greater memories I retain of my brief time in London before the gov. was prevailed upon by the Americans to tone down the love they were showing me, was when, during an estranged period of time with the woman I was involved with at the time, she called the apt. I'd moved into to facilitate our separation, to ask the location of something she needed as hostess of the endless parties she used to throw, another of which was in full swing as she phoned. My first piano; a BECHSTEIN that I was immensely proud of, was being tinkled in the background and my interests were aroused. "Who in the hell is banging on my piano like that?" "Oh, just DON HENLY and GEORGE HARRISON". Trust these words: CARL LEWIS could not have dropped the phone and ran there faster than I did to get to my old house. I am a big fan of the EAGLES and admire maestro HENLY and his cohorts a lot .Suffice however: – A BEATLE WAS IN MY CRIB!!! O SHIT! HOW DO I BEHAVE? COOL OR COOLER? (???!!???) HOW SOON DO I CALL AND TELL MY MOM? IS PAUL COMING TOO? The 6-8 blocks that I sprinted between my flat in Chelsea- to my then home in Knightsbridge, broke several world records and almost my ankles, but safely I made it trying really hard not to look like a star-struck little boy (although in fact, it's exactly what I was). What moved me and still does is how shy GEORGE was with me, yet how comfortable we seemed together at the same time. We wound up with his amazing wife OLIVIA sitting on the floor upstairs, pretty much staring at each other like funhouse mirrors and kind of giggling. The amazing thing to me now is that I never once asked about the BEATLES but did tell him that I could not imagine my life w/o them, and that their muse made all the difference to my survival in a brutal and cruel world. He mentioned as if a little embarrassed that he thought JOHN would've got on well with me. I never by grace saw him after that, although he gave me his studio in HENLY upon THAMES to use for awhile (I recorded half of 'Neither Fish Nor Flesh' there), whilst preparing for the great betrayal which lie ahead. For one golden summer, I was the muses golden boy and although the later payment was outrageous, that I met some of my Gods of mount Olympus – Sir George chief among them, balanced out a lot of crap in the end. I do not fear death (LIFE was the bitch for me), nor do I mourn false tears for the dead (those lucky sobs), yet upon hearing of the passing of the master HARRISON, again like a small boy, I wept ,and strangely enough thought of my old babysitter, Mrs. McIntyre.


Now the recipe is simple, I can only get your attention when you give it to me.


Who will not risk all for heaven, can not have even the nearest cloud.


Religion more than ever has become a Trojan horse for fascism and takes with the left hand the freedom that the state takes with the right .


During the late 80s-early 90s, I was invited to participate in a JOHN LENNON memorial tribute concert in LIVERPOOL. There was some speculation that I might have joined the great maestro, the Rev. AL GREEN for a song. During his sound check, we tested out the duet possibility and it was clear that my at the time tender young tonsils could in no way match the maestro's voice for sheer power and volume and duly chastised, I went backstage and started talking to RANDY TRAVIS and some other country homies.


You do not have to be as good as your heroes. You only have to be as good as you and convinced. In fact, fuck your heroes, most of whom would smoke your herb, drink your wine and then screw your woman after burping in your face.


Do not underestimate the tremendous impact that NILE ROGERS had on everyone who played guitar after they heard him. W/o doubt maestros BERNARD EVANS and TONY THOMPSON comprised one of the greatest American rhythm sections in the history of the game. I am still catching up to some of NILE's innovations from way back in the day. CHIC were all of that and some free coupons.


Right before the landmark release of his dominant TALKING BOOK, MAESTRO STEVIE WONDER released a wonderful piece of juvenilia titled: WHERE I'M COMING FROM.


Uh, sorry.


Nothing obscures a life like bad writing.


(and then there was the girl who couldn't get a blow-job because she forgot to fill out the application……).


Figuring out where most terrorists come from is pretty easy, they mainly come from abused childhoods. Should they be for any reason further ostracized by their society, naturally they'd be drawn to destroying the structure denied to them. As they were terrorized, so shall others feel it.


It has been awhile since I actually last saw a MARSALIS (whether you a Wynton or a Branford be). I fear my mojo running out unless I run into one soon……What a cool family!


Also a shout out to the CONNICK, HARRY JR. who I haven't seen for awhile. Is it me or does the more mature Harry gets , the more he morphs into; THE YOUNG AL GORE! Ah, SEN. CONNICK, look over here please!! His platform? A piano in every school !! (and fillet in every gumbo).


I love America more when I am away from her . She makes it almost impossible for a man with my profile to love her up- close.


As I close these old chapters of my life I wish to thank you profusely for the time and attention you have sent my way. I am truly amazed that I am still here and standing, if not on the rock of ages, then at least something stronger than cheese. I have felt at times the motion of your sincerity and it has helped me clear the termites from my world. Bless you and yours from me and the Mrs. Maitreya.


This space reserved for a Michael Bolton comeback!


You keep the alphabet, I'll keep the numbers.


Room to store disgust.


SHIVA doesn't always tell men that he is SIVA while they are punching him…..


Being haunted is the emotional release of trauma through the holographic imagery of the mind. These projections are important for clearing the debris of guilt and the dark matter that it attracts.
Being haunted is not the mind breaking down, it's the mind letting go. The mind, put together by Angels millions of years old, was not designed to break down, but to be ever adjustable to its next assignment and ever accountable to its own cause. Often through the 3rd eye we witness through symbols the downloading of the old data no longer useful to the mind and its new programming. Unless we forget, the mind is the original computer.


All of your Buddha's and Saints have walked through haunted fields. Some even make it their entire meditation. Others are more comfortable in fields of joy


A small spliff will fit here.


I am an insomniac, I hardly ever sleep. I used to say that I suffered insomnia until one night when insomnia informed me that it was she that suffered me.


All concepts are represented by Angels of the higher forms. Therefore INSOMNIA is an actual energy field , an intelligent active form. Instead of cursing it , ask it to guide you. It is their for a purpose, usually to help complete some mental karma.


Memory Enhancement Exercise Systems regrets to inform its clients that it forgot to mail the last newsletter. We regret this error and will not do it again.


Kissers, in the form of night
Transfixed by their glow's delight,
Are now stretching into altered air
As the flicker of fire sparks, dance
Between the spaces where, he grapples
With her underwear, as senses grab
Their chance. Such moments, for men
Are not always sure, so we bait the lure,
And do not hesitate, to separate, the line
Betwixt, feral heat, and it's nemesis,


We are the only animal which experiences guilt simply because we have needs. We are ashamed of our needs because they tell the truth about who we are, and the adjustments necessary to stay in alignment with our own truth. We are known by the Lord according to our needs and not according to our idea of ourselves, as the LORD can only see the truth of who we are, and not its denial, which is our own affair.


You are certainly more than free to see all of this as fiction and but the work of an amused mind.


What happens when Papa Ratzinger meets the paparazzi? Does he get confused ?




This space kept open for lapsed Catholics.


For this particular war in the middle east, the soldiers are invited to invoke the courage and guidance of the extraordinary SAINT CHRISTOPHER! He is totally ready to rock and ushers the dead straight into heaven w/o delay or processing (normally heaven requires a processing period). He is also a fun spirit and genuinely enjoys the company of soldiers. He understands the fullness of a mans needs, especially in times of immense stress. He , like his good friend JC, is available to protestants as well .


Female soldiers can direct it straight to the mother of GOD, who understands all and Saint JOAN OF ARC is also a comfort and shield to those who ask her help and friendship.


My planned book: POETRY AND PORN will not be coming out this Christmas due to creative differences with the publisher, Churchlight Publications (a division of Hallelujah multimedia). We ask your kind indulgence in waiting while the book awaits re-assignment.


(Yes, I was that kid being constantly smacked in the mouth for saying the wrong thing..)


The heart cannot survive with too big of a lie living inside of it, it gradually suffocates the heart and weakens its will to survive. This is sometimes the cause of heart attacks.


This space kept open for the next Republican sex scandal.


Sorry McDonald's, but Spam is America's great contribution to modern world cuisine.


Spam is also good for flesh wounds……..


One cannot argue ones' own authority and win. Repeat as often as you need, One cannot argue their own power and expect to profit by it.




..and being confused,
she simply made her
man, pay the dues
that would kill him,
after she doused
his fuse. He , poor 
sob, stood not even
a ghost's chance.
She would castigate
his manhood, and
sell him to the Jews.


Imagine having a satellite with weather control technology! The political implications are huge! Imagine how hard we could continue to lean on Africa, and no-one would believe that the idea was anything but a writers tossed imagination. Perfect! Now, how much are you willing to pay to avoid the global warming program? PAY UP PUNKS!


Coming to Broadway soon: GAUNTANAMOSIS! The GITMO FOLLIES Book by Tim Rice, score: Elton John.


What cannot be outsourced is competence. More stars in government and fewer dweebs. Stars draw light and light draws solutions.




This space reserved for excuses.


Men cannot be raised, they can only be awakened. Who tries to raise a man usually raises a slave instead. A man can only come to himself naked and alone. As he was born, so shall he be reborn. 


Were spring a longer thing
more ding-a-lings might
ring-a-ling-a-ling and 
recognize a sense of
things as paramount 
to their own weight.
Birds fly headlong into
nests, while I, a whippoorwill,
stare from the couch at 
Pamela Anderson's breasts.


There are times when 1 & 1 cannot equal 2. There are not really 2 sides to an argument if you are sure of yours. There is ever ONLY one side to my arguments, MY SIDE, and if my side sustains me, then PLATO himself couldn't argue me off my own view. We were not born with 2 minds, but develop them as early survival technique. Winners have but one mind, just as they have but one heart.


Catering to a view lower than the value you have for yourself is a slow form of suicide.




This space reserved for non-smokers.


Could the person standing closest to Owen Wilson please slap him? And then give him a hug, and tell him that mofo's love him, so if he can just bare his own weight, we'll give him an extra shoulder. Listen, when the blondes (and with blue eyes) start to freak out like this, what the hell confidence does this inspire in the darkies, for Pete's sake ?


STEVE MARTIN was funny without having to insult tribes. His humour lifted. That's why he is an icon.


As much as we bloat our lips towards the concept, all freedom must be earned. To hear about freedom or to talk about it is not the same as freedom. All freedom is a process, and the more one fights for , the more one gains. The greater freedom and the most difficult transformation is to lose entirely the fear of others opinions, as nothing paralyzes us more.


A coke-head and a pot-head walked into a bar. But it was an iron bar and the coke-head got hurt. The pot-head however saw the joke coming and put on his safety bandana, and found the rest of the joke very funny.


I married my supermodel and thank the others who prepared me for her.


Yes, sometimes life can be hard, so be hard with it. When it is easy with you, be easy with it. Life is a big boy and can take it as well as it gives.


Wake up little Susie, wake up.


One day I hope to be rich enough to commission works from great maestros and maestrinas. I'd love to spend MERCEDES money by asking Neil Young if he and Dylan would write a project together or if Stevie and Sly Stone would jam out together and create a masterpiece. How about if Joni wrote an entire project with Aretha or if Trent Reznor and Grace Jones got together and freaked out frontals , and for the love of God, when will I get to hear a DR. DRE produced rock band? WHY ARE WE SO FUCKING LAME? The mastermind Paul Allen is one such hero who may give a thought to commissioning works by available veteran masters currently being ignored by our system, which borders almost on paedophilia, and seems to regard mature masters with barely concealed disdain. The 18-25 year olds killed music and I hate them, they should all be shipped off to war until their lives matter more to us than branding and imprinting them for life as demographically homogenized consumers. The we who would tag with radio monitors our children as were they stars of a wildlife documentary and treated to the crippling electro-shocks of our culture and its' hatred of that which is truly democratic and free.


The good news about being a schizophrenic is that the numbers are on your side!


I once got into a fight as a boy with a schizo and lost to all 5 of them…..


The rich learn that if you live in a house bigger than your needs, you begin to lose the more intimate sense of who you are, and will in time displace yourself. A word to the wise and disciplined.


Downsizing to upgrade is the new economy.


If you need your house to tell the world who you are, then you haven't done enough.


Young married couples should never live in a house bigger than their intimacy or it will never become a home. If the house dimensions are cold and distant, so too in time will be the relationship. The cosier and more intimate the space, the more benefit it is to those who wish to remain in love, and profit by its grace.


I love money, I love it!!! SEND IMMEDIATELY 300 CANADIAN DOLLARS if you feel the same!


Indeed business is business, yet had Picasso been dictated to by his agent, his paintings today would be hanging in Holiday Inns instead of the finest museums and homes. When the musicians follow the music, the magic is abundant and real. When instead the artists are persuaded to follow the numbers, and not the music, her trail goes cold and her inspiration laboured, and she is dissected and analyzed like an English patient, medicated, sedated and un-infatuated. The only way to preserve our music is to take it back.


The main problem with poverty is convincing people that they are poor.


As a child cutting and running through the woods of Florida, I had no idea at all that I was poor, none. It wasn't until later that the momentum of being considered poor took effect and I began to ponder it as a possible reality. What does a boy need to feel rich? Frogs in ponds, anthills and a stick, a swimming hole and some rocks to climb, others boys to throw things at. Girls to avoid and sticky watermelon juice running down your naked belly. Perhaps a dog to trail after to remind him that he is not alone, and maybe some empty bottles to trade in for enough money for baseball cards ("I got Joe Morgan", "I got Pete Rose !"). Poverty is mainly a mind game. Education is the great equalizer, which is why so little of it is shared with the so called poor.


I love my father-in-laws idea that the way to end world hunger is simple. Instead of letting the delegates discuss the problems of world hunger AFTER a 7 course meal (with the finest wines), relegate them instead to a mandate whereby they don't get to eat until they sort out what can be done. The urgency will then return to the debate…….


Dogma destroys THIS MOMENTS TRUTH NOW. The heavier the dogma, the heavier the karma.


A secret place for a quick smoke!


This space reserved for Elvis sightings.


It is necessary to break form when creating new worlds.


This next generation of music and its troubadours will be the greatest yet. The great beast has finally been slain. We brought him down from Frankenstein to Chucky and then we kicked Chucky's ass.


I fear only God and the angels telling me that I let man punk me out, and beat me off the ball. Getting tackled is one reality and giving up the ball another. I can explain to God getting tackled, but there is just no way to explain to the father giving up the ball……….


Additional cell space for debutantes.


Without a chip on his shoulder, a man can achieve very little in this dog eat dog society.


Were you to just surrender, and love me, you'd not need 'accidents' to wake you up.


Roberta Flack played a joyful part of my musical awakening (still ongoing). Her pure, classical voice, her teacher's training and reach, her excellent musicianship, her quiet political forwardness and poise, and her brilliant song sense, tremendously aided my own consciousness as it was forming. HER AFRO WAS ALSO AWESOME ! Much in the way of 'muchness' to her, those she dares to love, and those who love her.


I met her physically for the first time at the John Lennon tribute in Liverpool way before most of you panty sniffers were born. During the closing number, she quietly admonished me for not being centre stage, and taking my turn. I had already begun my descent, being engaged at the time in Sony's lessons, which among other things, sought to bring me back to adjustable size, so, aware of the corporate games swirling around me, I deliberately began to become more invisible, in protest at my nigger treatment, and as a way to prepare instinctively for the life necessary to avenge my gargantuan loss, and the death it caused my prior psyche. I instead , retreated to the safety and comfort of the Hammond B3 organ, well behind the cast of assembled All-stars which made up the gala guest list for this hallowed occasion. I gave instead the place to Lenny Kravitz, since I could see the writing on the wall, and his (at the very least), symbolic importance to the presentation. I kindly told the venerable and kind Ms. Flack, to mind her own, and to back off (a lot of it in body language), but that I really appreciated her point of view. She is a hero to me (I don't do Heroin), and her music had a huge 'influenza' on my life. Thank you Madame Roberta!


Diana Ross is a much greater singer than she was ever given credit for. In fact, she is by delivery and phrasing, one of the most influential vocal geniuses of all time, and it ain't just Michael Jackson that thinks so. Half of any great singer is simply personality, the rest, the willingness simply to show up, and be heard.


Her, and the Supremes song, "REFLECTIONS", is one of my all time favourites. Hell, I've heard that even the ranked, noted rock journalist Dave Marsh, thinks highly of it !


I am really excited at how the 'NIGOR MORTIS®' material is coming through, and hope to share some with you soon. As a 'boycotted' performer however, I've first got a few private parties to play (all post mill Rock), in order to earn the laundry money to keep my underwear fresh, and clean. Good, aired out fart filters are important to a balanced and healthy mind. Even my old British nemesis, the great and bullish writer/editor Steve Sutherland would more than likely, agree.


…..not with my music, which he despises, but the fart filters recommendation.



This space reserved for royalists and other old school republicans. 

Who doesn't feel me is not nearly as important to me as those who do.


Congratulations to the grand wizard and maestro PRINCE for his gigantic 21 show arena stand at the 02 arena in Fogtown (London). He is a great Hero of mine, and has bigger 'cojones' than most of us twice his size. (physically, he is an intellectual giant, otherwise). At this point in my own karmic adventure, I am not sure that I could fill a phone booth in Trafalgar square, yet if this Maitreya don't rock the party, then another Maitreya will (in spirit, if not by name). That I am still alive, and not just another FBI casualty, is, in and of itself, cause for major rejoicing. That I am not yet finished avenging my last death, is also a cause for major rejoicing.


…..if not a cause for major distribution!




Major pain in the asphalt.


Abuse I can take, it is what skinny mulattos are made for. It was the being so patronised, and by such feeble minds , that was hardest to absorb.


The more you get to know yourself, the less you need to know yourself.


The more you get to know yourself, the less you need to realize yourself.


I was recently made aware of my logo being used as a conduit to a porn site. 
Let me make this gravely clear; COOL! What a compliment! ROCK MUSIC and POON, who'd have thunk it?


Sometimes, there is simply no better show on the television (or under it), than the Teletubbies. Absolute, pure genius.


From where does my authority come? Same place yours comes from, I've just stopped apologizing for it, and by and large, you still are.


They say that 1 in every 4 men is gay. Now you know why I now play in a trio, just to be sure.


Will the return of real men begin again now? Will you help?


When a man is a man and sure, a woman rests easier.


Clearly the oil industry is why 9/11, and their allies and apologists. Maybe some of their coming misfortune, can be offset according to how much they are willing to underwrite the medical bills of the soldiers who exposed their lives to severance and loss in order to secure for their lying masters, control of the Iraq oil supply. All of this complete and utter bullshit about bringing 'freedom' to Iraq. Were I a non white country with resources, and knowing the history of American foreign policy, I' would have the bomb like a mofo. We are always angling to take what belongs to others and painting it as some 'service' we are providing for the sake of 'savages' who don't know any better, and who will welcome our way of life. If , heaven forbid, they happen not to agree with us, they are 'terrorists' and all the other unkind smears that we use our press to spread. The major press, but in particular the New York Times, should be verily ashamed of themselves for being such pussies, when full on tigers we needed.


I neglected to announce that the last set of writings included 'The Running Back' poems. In the future I aim for the 'Point Guard' poems, unless some of you poets wish to jump on it first. Why not? Then maybe some publisher will one day compile all of it into a poetry book celebrating sports. Then maybe the 'official' poets (the few actually published ones) can get off of their academic high horses and write poems that people might wish to read. There are a lot of people who are great with words, there are very few good poets.


The possibility of reading FRANK RICH, is now the only reason that I can be bothered to read the 'International Herald Tribune', which has become more and more, an ambiguous bore. I also love reading Maureen Dowd, when she's engaged and Rob Hughes on Soccer, who may be the best sportswriter that they now employ. But hey, that is just my opinion.


Outlaws come from outcasts.


As well, us hetero sapiens have always been jealous of the way gay performers (outed or not) seem more easily able to project themselves into a larger persona, and of the rapport they often have with women, as well as an audience at large. Most of us men, of any persuasion, are locked into stuck images, with little or no space at all to bounce around in. We would all like to be the maestro Freddy Mercury, just without that ultra gay moustache, and without a guy named Frank, standing so close behind us, and pulling on our ears.


I hate funerals (which contains the ironic word 'fun' in it). I only go to the funerals of my enemies, in order to make sure that they are really dead.


This august was hot as hell, and in fact during that time, the devil himself filled out a job application for another line of work (the Republicans were trying to get him to replace Karl Rove). Yet, by the grace of heaven and it's fairies, it turned out to be a splendid month to work, to meditate, and move some energy forward. We have yet found a way to combat the witches and warlocks which used to crowd my mind with crap. We simply show up in their dreams, and haunt the living daylights into them, or otherwise just beat them silly. We sleep better now as a result.


I, and my spirit are for you, not against you. Know this.


The goddess, Princess Diana was a healer, as well as years ahead of her time.


The current controversy which swirls around the shamed South African Health minister, Manto Tshabalala-Msimang, is interesting, not because of the way in which she expressed her views, but in the fact that her suggestions, that Aids sufferers try garlic, beetroot and African potatoes, was a threat to the pharma industries for whom Aids patients are , what exposed necks are to bats, blood to be sucked and used. It is known that certain herbs and plants are useful for those labouring under the meditation that 'Aids' is. She spoke out and betrayed who the government is actually more loyal to, medical corporations for whom, with no sick to 'cure', there is no Oxford for young Timmy, and no new facelift for Mabel. Trust God, he created the cure for all things, even far before we were sick enough to create the disease.


God forbid that Health Ministers should actually serve the interest of the public.


…..and all the rest of her story seems to amount to all the bullshit they throw at a story to obscure the main reason for the attack. With open eyes, you see this happen all the time.


Let's face it, Africans are guinea pigs for most of the big pharmaceutical operations, and they are laughing all the way to the bank.


Two icons do not always sleep so well, in the same bed together.


I am humble, I am proud, I am scatological, in turns, I am a shit , and I am also reverent. I am, in essence a man, prone to error, and a God, prone to arrogance. I am Maitreya, and therefore, you lucky bastards, so are you. Can we please now just all get along? If you disagree with this, please send 300 Canadian dollars to: 1313,Your Mama's House, In My Name, Italia, 3121,0.


I love my black women, more than they have ever loved me in return. But hey, somewhere along the line, I offended my God, and that I guess, is my karma.


The inspiration behind TTD's '7 MORE DAYS' was in effect Maestro Rogers Nelson's '17 Days', a B-side (in the days of) to one of his 'Purple Rain' era masterpieces. I can also remember the girl I was with at the time, a one Miss Claudia Michaela Kaiser, who was , for all practical purposes, a previous trial run life, of my wife Francesca. Claudia, lived in Munich, a truly kind city to my youth, while, by the grace of spirit, I was getting my cups together. Thank you ever sweet Claudia, and thank her parents for their mind boggling hospitality AND RECOGNITION. Her mother GUDRUN, was a saint to me, and her father LUKE, a revelation. Her brother was a bit of a jealous asshole, but you can't have it all (or the Queen would be mad). Thank you Germany for the awakening, and thank you Prince, Grand Master, for the inspiration. 

Dichotomy? It seems that we are made of this. It is not a curse by a long shot, it is rather , the mark of our evolution.


Take care, and may your specific god bless you, your judgements and your party spirit!


…and finally, brothers of all complexions and levels of complexity, with the lights out, we are all as black as we dare to be!


To a young southern boy, growing up in a rural small town, the music and songs of THE COMMODORES, featuring the astonishing work of Master Lionel Richie, were a revelation. His songs were all at once simple, but a breath of fresh air at the same time. Even as a kid, I could sense longevity in the tunes of him and his group, and again, there was quite no one before him with his voice (not just singing voice, but one's 'voice'), which was simplicity itself, yet soulful and clear. One could also sense an ambition to reach out to all people, something I believe as well that I may have inherited from him, especially after having sung his masterful composition, '3 Times A Lady' at a high school talent contest, which (as was usually the case) saw the prize go to the usual suspects, as I finished 4th. Except, thereafter, I was up the skirt of 2 different cheerleaders, at least one of whom cannot be named, because she is now married to a big shot Republican (and you know how Republicans are about these things, at least in public). The influence of country music was also viably present, and sprinkled throughout Lionel's efforts, and in short, I learned from a 'Bama boy (the maestro hails from Alabama) a whole lot about song presentation, and to trust one's ambition to reach out to all tribes and castes, although my nemesis, Sony, only wanted me to sell records to Black people, unless it upset the status Quo at the label, and it's super sensitive surly superstars. Upon being exposed to the great music of the COMMODORES however, the days of betrayal and pain had yet to begin announcing itself, which left me ample time to learn all that I could use from the great artist's pen serving us for all these wonderful years as Lionel Richie. 
I write this quite early in the morning, perhaps before having gotten my 'Game Head' together. I just needed to express to the world, the great debt I feel I owe to him. That he has always comported himself with grace and a sense of class also gave me something to aim for.


My wife is also a long time admirer of the Maestro's 'oeuvre'. The Italians love him, but then again, the Italians know a thing or two about great music, and poetry.


I would again like to thank JUDD APATOW for the love he showed my only promoted works. I may even see publishing royalties!!! My house is grateful, and wishes you more good luck in life and in films.


If, as well you grew up in Florida during the 70's, it was hard to escape the narrative songwriting genius of the 'Master of Margaritaville', Jimmy Buffet. He was ubiquitous and rightfully so, he may as well have been the poet laureate of the state, and it's general state of mind. One of my favourite works, is his ,'A Pirate Looks At 40'. If interested, check into it. All serious song-smiths would do well to study Master Buffet, he knows a thing or two about engagement, and song construction. A big shout of respects to a real American ambassador. We could use some politicians like Jimmy.


Racism is really ugly, and steals far more from our great culture, than it could ever replace with justifications of it's rationale.


When I was involved with the record biz, it felt no different than putting nuns in charge of the Strippers, and trying to adjust to being a stripper, but being managed by, well, NUNS.
I had a strange but wonderful dream that I saw and spoke with my real father, who I never met. All I know is that he was white, and played the guitar. In the dream, he explained to me that his leaving was heaven's plan, and not his. I believed him, as all things do really work out in the end for those who love their Gods, even for scatological rebels like me. I then dreamt of my step-father, James, and we were even getting along, which actually, after years of estrangement, felt nice.


Most of good writing isn't down to style, but in having something interesting to write about. It is easier to write well, when what you are writing about, inspires you. I believe that we are the awakening of the greatest writing generation yet. BOOKS will be making a comeback. After Guitars, Books are the coolest thing I know.


Medical Marijuana would provide great relief for our returning soldiers, as they process through their unspeakable traumas. We certainly do not see their treatment as only including the herb, as surely they too will be guinea pigged and used as test heads for new pharmaceuticals. We would like to see extensive group therapy which includes the use of the so called soft drugs. Shiva invented the herb, and brought it down from the mountain, after noticing the nature in which man processes pain. Can we in the "coke-head vs. pot-head" wars, lay down our gauntlets long enough to spare our brave ,but stunned warriors, the weight of our own hypocrisy, and the scab which covers it, named morality. The more pain, the less morality, the more wisdom.


…otherwise, our vaunted Christian compassion is bullshit. 

I am jealous of the Muslims, they get to smoke hash. Us? We get Jesus and the Saints thrown at us like hand grenades, and made to feel like 'Pezzo di merda'. 

Monarchs tend to make great oppressors, because they too, are brutally oppressed.


Going, Going, Ghandi!


On the next Oprah, the "Coke-head vs. Pot-head" debates! Topic A) Why my choice of obliteration is morally superior to yours. Topic B) You suck, no, YOU suck. Topic C) 'Are we better off with a Pot- head presidency'?


….most monarchs never make it out of their repressed childhoods, no matter at what age they die.


Though we had a friend or two mutually in common, I never met the incandescent Princess Diana, which is just as well, as I definitely would have, given honourable circumstance, made a pass at her. What was dawning at that time of my burgeoning manhood would have made sure she knew that I was feeling it. But then what? Secret intelligence, harassment, taxman cometh, and all kinds of bats flying out of all kinds of crevices, and as it was, even without meeting her, I still pretty much got that anyway. She was a healer, and paid a heavy, heavy price for it. She is a Goddess, therefore, she ain't really dead. One day, when the debris clears, she will be declared what she was, a Saint, no less than the Saint Teresa of Calcutta, who not co-incidentally, vanished from the earth at the same time. As often occurs, one was a Yin Saint, the other a Yang.


Was she a perfect, religious Saint? No, and thank God that she wasn't, as we have far too many of those already.


Now that the president's approval rating matches mine, I commiserate with him. He has great charisma, and charm which was totally wasted by family play calling so bad, it is no wonder he gets blitzed so often, and is often left dazed and confused. If any president in history ever needed to NOT be a non drinker, it is this one. The love of God has nought to do with how much you do or do not drink. It matters only that whether drunk or not, you really love God. This President needs the freedom to have a cocktail at the end of each and every day, and we Americans really need to grow up and find the distinction between priests, and politicians.


It would appear that time herself is shaping the first President Clinton into one of our great ones.


Attorney General Gonzales's worst crime wasn't his loyalty to his president, but his overwhelming mediocrity.


What goes on your Blackberry, goes through Washington, D.C. (if by chance, you are of interest to them.)


Africa's main problem are the 2 R's; Resources and Racism. For as long as she remains the world's largest wealth generating center, and we, the greedy sods that we are, we will always find ways to justify portraying her as weak and in need of help, as we rob her, and support wars to keep her distracted. Promised western money and support, dictators are erected to insure chaos, ethnic cleansing, and us getting the first cream off of the top. Web would help Africa far more, by simply leaving her the fuck alone. But we can't, as we have always had an irrational fear of the dark and powerful.


Saudi Arabia is also a secret and jealous enemy of Africa at large.


A lot of what we are brainwashed to see as Africa's problems, are in fact our problems that we create for them. We mustn't forget that Africa is all of our collective past lives, and as we see them, we in truth see ourselves. The best help is to lose our deeply patronizing guilt, and just leave them to sort out their own world, as implicit in our 'concern' is that they are 'children', and incapable of growing without our super white help, when in fact, it is largely our help that is hindering them. Translated to their years of observing our interference, 'our help' still translates to 'our intervention' in their sovereign affairs. How arrogant are we ? They were here before us, and will be laughing at us when we are no longer here. We consistently use the excuse at how different they are from us to justify treating them as our cabana boys. Of course they are different silly, you'd be too if you lived in a paradise that the whites are always angling to control, along with her vast, monarchy sustaining resources, resources which we covet, and manage to hypnotize ourselves into believing that she is too stupid and unworthy to control on her own (stupid God for putting the 'wrong' people there!).


In truth whites need Africa, far more than she will ever need them.


Most of Africa's corrupt leaders are controlled by the west, and its bankers. It is unthinkable that Mugabe would have survived this long without western (i.e. British) support. Historically Britain makes her former colonies suffer mightily for daring to strive for freedom. Ask the Irish, and they ain't even black. Once you gain freedom from the colonialists, a war disrupting the new freedoms usually follows, allowing the colonials to come back in through another door.


In the next , forthcoming days, our hospitality wishes to grace yours with 2 more LIVE songs from our 'Rock Oz'Arènes' experience. Watch this space, or, barring that, watch this one instead:


If you have read any of this before, it isn't my fault, it's that you are psychic!