Monday, January 31, 2005

tough weekend
John is a great kid, i saw him writing
with a pen on a box the right way
i still don't know how to write the right way

the drama this weekend
today is Angel's birthday
so we were hanging a bit the last few days

and we went out one night
and John's mom called my house
and no one answered
and she freaked out
said she was going to call the cops on me

god forbid i hang out with my best friend
for his birthday and i know most people
who read this may think that she's an asshole
and im playing the victim role
but im not

im just a father who wants his son
and doesn't feel like he needs to
jump through hoops and rings of fire
for his son's mother
because she think's im not fit

i'm his father
he has my genes
John looks like me
all the way through
but thats not the important part
the important part is that

(more than radiohead, jimi hendrix and the mars volta)

i'm not saying his granparents and her won't raise him well
they'll raise him differently
i want to show him central park in the spring
the concourse in the summer
Orchard Beach in August (don't laugh at me)
show him Puerto Rico in July, September, and August
show him that the Yankees are the best team in the WORLD
his first day of school
his first suspension for graffiti (!!!)


and i think it may kill my mother
she loves the LIFE out of John
and he's very attentive to her
and i love watching them together


i want to watch him grow up
akward and dorkie
like me
get bad haircuts
like me
be funny and silly
like me

BUT everyone wants to talk about my character
or that im a bad person cause i've cheated on women
or stole things from places
or been arrested
or that im a "compulsive" liar
or that im a not educated enough
or because i'm puerto rican
i dont understand anything right now
all i know is that

(no reason to lose his father too)


(funny thing is that if my last name is Rojas, and his name is John Pablo, people can put two and two together)

Monday, January 24, 2005

O’s on stage right now
He’s doing real well
He’s come a long way
I like his Sorta-Rican poems
Even if he is Ecuadorian

Limping around
Like a old wine pimp
His voice is nice and calm
He’s rocking it

He’s done a lot of progress
He’s my man son
Making people cry with his

O’s blog is
Check him out
He is one of the blog kings
Drop a line say hello

You my man O
You better keep limping around
I’ll have your cane

Your brother

Sunday, January 23, 2005

Sleepwalk To Failure

it’s around midnight, the nice dream is over,
the gods have stop making love and started committing suicide,
two cups of blood linger lukewarm,
men run around holding mirrors, sleepwalk to failure

a day in the life, a month in a year, a hour in a day,
a dress stretched across a gentleman, a gunshot quick
while she's away, a secret warm place for the cold blood,
a wolf at the wrong door, I’m no pig

the albatross is flying, the alcoholics are dreaming,
they feel alive, all blues in a green room, all my loving
in a closet of hate, all things must pass and all we have is now,
no yesterday, no tomorrow, no amazing journey,
just sparks flying out of your mouth, angels with
scabbed wings, sitting on your shoulders,

this art is hard, gets artificial after time
with no passion, this beautiful strange
bells, ring in the darkness, the black whispers,
the black stars, Saturday is creeping in slowly,
the break of dawn, this burden in my hand
is swelling up, pumped fist and bruised walls,
burned blue by the sun,

the cherubs are dancing on the roof,
the imps are climbing up the walls,
the wounds are cryptic, the scars are
a diary of the last five years, the dirt is piling up,
the panic is setting in, don't know when but
a day is gonna come, this epic/epitaph is a march for
no reason but for tomorrow,

the eunuchs are hiding everything,
the exiles are coming back from their exodus,
fear the voices, feel the void, the fever is rising,
the bell tolls, kill the fortune tellers, break the gates of eden,
grab your guns, the ghosts are out,
say goodbye to this great big wide world

hang yourself to a nail, rid yourself of the scene,
the guillotine is dropping, have mercy on your eyes,
the hunting hands are coming, immortality is a dream,
reality is in limbo, the city is in a jesus christ pose,
crashing jet pilots, the walls have laments spray painted on it,
lay down the cross, pick up the gun,

your life in a glass house is light years away,
the acorns, the church, the horns, the jewels,
the umbrellas, the wings are gone, long hard road
is a longtime coming, the puppets are walking with their strings,
the masters of war are walking without their strings,
the minutes of decay are longer than lives,

the dream and the illusion are moons and horror shows,
self destruct the country, the needles and prayers are bleeding,
no distance left to run, no excuses, no alarms, nowhere to hide,
just stand and look around,

the noose is a liar, the reports make me numb,
the burden is ocean size, the spirits are on the run,
on their own, running with scissors, one of these days
I’m going to cut you into little pieces, the optimism is dead,

the streets are black with pressure, pretty knives,
pretty nooses, the radiation ruling the nation,
reinvent redemption, revolt the ribcage, break the rusty cage,
sail to the moon, scatterbrain scar tissue, sensory decay,
sleep dirt sliver beauty, tears & blood spiderbites,
diamond strangers, streamline the street's disciple,
substitute the struggle for suicide,

take the veil off of a scorched earth,
this sleepwalk to failure is becoming, remember the amnesia,
take the thorn out of your side, your memory remains
a message to the modern world, the red, the white, the black,
the blue, there is a light that never goes out,
the tourniquet is a venus of the abstract,
violet sunshine, we only come out at night,
and we will walk with our army,
and in the end,
we all end at zero.


Wednesday, January 19, 2005

it's always been my nature to take chances
right hand drawing
left hand singing
midnight concertina

blood dryin' hair
as i go from borough to borough
what has drawn you to my door
have you seen me before

eyes are two slits
a face that any painter would paint
worshipping a god with the body of a woman
and the head of a hyena
laughing at my jokes

do i need your permission to turn the other cheek?
if you can read my mind, why must i speak?

in the shadow of giants
where the stars explode with streetlamps
follow the instructions
the psychic gave you

walk down the road with your disposition
when i cease to exist, then who will you blame?

there's a black limo rollin' through the combat zone
servants are half dead
you're down to the bone
tell me, where would you like to be overthrown
in chile, iraq or nicargua?

steal yourself from your vengeance
satisfy your urge with possessions that have been stolen
surrounded your hips with a blindfold

i see men marching in your eyes
taking your heart by force
weep in holy places

sell postcards of the hanging
paint the passes red
the circus is in town
they’re all in blue

the riot squad they're restless
they beat the daylight out of the sun

no one wants to know
the back pockets of theives

ambulances cry down the boulevard
the moon is almost hidden
the stars are beginning to hide

everybody is making love
expecting rain with no clouds in the sky

sit underneath the windowsill
feel the wind, it’s quite romantic

disguised your memories
as happiness
smell the dead roses
like spring in the wintertime

recite the alphabet
poison the sentence
christ and kerosene
watch them shine
someone said it looks beautiful

received one of my mundane messages
the lame on the street
forgot their names
gave them letters to remember

rearranged their faces
sat in different chairs
hid behind everything let my hair down
wander aimlessly,go where your feet take you and
shouldn’t take you,

beware of luck
makes you think your immortal

beware the thoughts that linger
in your head, your no genius

beware of unconscious suffering
your no victim

beware of passion
no one will understand you

beware of music
it is a religion

beware of love
it punches hard

beware of tomorrow
it may not come

beware of heat
it becomes spoiling

beware of breathing
the air is bad

beware of boomerangs
you won’t know where i end and you begin

beware of failure
it feels good

beware of success
it becomes intoxicating

received another one of
my mundane messages

the lame on the street
walked by me

the midnight sky is unforgivingly beautiful
i gave the stars all names
forgot them all

i hid behind everything in my room
and stared at the sky


Tuesday, January 18, 2005

tuesday is still here
still beating it's faint heart
still eating it's young
still breaking the law
still promising love
still surrounding the circle
still running down buses
still chasing the wind
still painting the face
still riding the train
still overloading the senses
still staring at California
still freezing their knickers
still loud as the young mouths, we used to be
still broken from the fall
still ravenous even though we're full
still beautifully imperfect
still confused as the day
still hopeful as a wino
still delilirious as a fanatic
still poetic as nineteen
still tuesday even though the sun is gone
the bright lights of manhattan
share their second light
place this street on your tongue
eat it and then you'll become whole again


The band finally got together, just in a “let’s hang out” mode. Vincent and Raze finally saw each other. It’s been four years since they’ve last seen each other and Raze has improved dramatically since our last session. Jason came thru and it was good for him to get out, times are hard in the Hendricks household and for me it was great seeing three different people from three different circles of friends. Vincent is from HMV 86th St./Musician friend who basically single handedly taught me how to play guitar and gave me more esteem, Jason who is a family member who I barely used to talk to because I thought he was too young/weird to hang out with, then I realized that we had a lot in common and we had great jokes on my father. Raze whose roots come from TCK, has been my main motivation into really pursuing The Mona Passage. Raze’s band “Cousin”

Played at my book party and it was great to see Raze really get busy and record an album and he has to be my number one supporter when it comes to the music I’m writing and it feels wonderful. So now we have our ten songs, our ideas, our concepts, our venues and our goals, all we need now is time and money.

(the Jets lost, what the hell is that?)


Monday, January 10, 2005

monday morning breath
is a lingering cold stew

the streets are empty
on Atlantic Ave.

Brooklyn's heart is beating
and i can see it

flatbush is burning
and the BAM is staring at me

the Williamsburg bridge is opening
up and being swallowed

on the corner of 4th and Union
i can see the devil running naked

from Prospect Park holding
a broken halo

gabriel's trumpet is broken
and everything is silent

i can hear the glass, concrete and stone
crying above the trees

don't know when a day is going to come
but i'm still optimistic

the paupers of yesteryear
dry their tears with sandpaper

the jesters of sorrow
wallow in the worry of tomorrow

burn the papers of our existence
and let's reinvent ourselves

let's make our face charcoal
and smear the pastels over our eyes

these bodies of ours will break
the burden of today

feel the day
as it weighs on our spines

we are standing on the shoulders of giants
and i can see the Bronx

Coney Island is burning
the ferris wheel is floating on the Atlantic Ocean

bright lights big city
annex themself from the crowd

arrest the city
hang them by their ankles

cut their throats
stick their heads on poles on Eastern Parkway

let the museum be a tomb
for the wicked

the skyline across the water
is still beautiful though

damn them for their skyscapers
and glittering eyes

feel the day
on these streets

it weighs a ton.


Friday, January 07, 2005

computer crashed
2,174 songs
8.54 Gigs of sounds

you never heard of
in limbo

yeah, it's a pretty nice day
fucking technology

bad night
late for meeting

pissed off employee

Thursday, January 06, 2005

this ballad of everything
is one that is neither ugly or beautiful
it is becoming like a bendable back snapping

the amnesias is blue in the face
the look on the city
is blank and not welcoming the sudden comeback

is a continuing storya concrete song
the dark days are longer
i woke up again tried to livethe world was hiding

the internal rhythm
is different today
downward vomiting

the fall
the fear
the fight

these fragile bones
are like dust piles of frail whispers
the genesis is complicated

the ghost of the girl
i knew is softly opening my mouth in the cold
the golden age is here

the great below is above me
the grunt is sleeping
the happiest days of my lives are hiding

it's time for healing
destroy the icons
this last day of laughter

the remaining light in my apartment
stretches long and wide
across the water stained walls

the cars are playing love songs
the hobo is the conductor
swatting butterflies

the making of my face are in the clouds
who sold the world?
who would be king?

the project of a heart
remains unfinished
and barely pumping blood

this world is a long night
that will go on for years
the ocean is dancing

these reflections of god
are refugees
along the river

the shape of my smile
is uneven and misshaped
the shining flowers

the palm must open
for a falling sky
the fingerprints are overlapping

the song remains the same
the stranger is a tourist
the strong and the tame

the ugly man's suite
is a walking xperiment
carry the weight across the city

the wind cries virgin marys
the world is for you and the wretched
enjoy the sunset

Wednesday, January 05, 2005

don't forget to eat your greens...

proud parent

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

in the golden age
i feel rusted

these paper tigers
are hunting me

lonesome tear
are flowing

it's all in my mind
what going on

but at the end of the day
it's just nonsense

cause it's lost cause
already dead and breathing

four days in
and the sun stop shining

the world is changing
without me

everyone is moving fast
slow down

these rabbit in the headlights
are freezing

no surprises here and now
and this moonlight is blurry

the rain is dancing
my feet are swimming

walking through glass
doors on ceilings

harajuku bitches are
exploding on the dancefloor

this motion picture soundtrack
is skipping on the last word

scatterbrain suicide
never forget to dot the eyes

diamonds on the windshield
rubies in the rough

calloused hands of babies
hold on to hope

keep the wolf from the door
burn all your marxism

pose in the gloass museum
the television is causing friction

this sideshow/red flashing lights
are blinding the skies

i'm the man who loves you
i'm the man trying to break your heart

with time like these
who needs to focus

the world is beautiful blurry
rub the edges off

make it classic
memories are so wonderful

running on half empty
i'm not as fast as i used to be

nobody know's you when your down and out
i don't believe you (she act's like we never met)

spread these ribcages apart
and let the sun inside

i rode into brooklyn
and it was half past three

what are we if not servants of many
and masters of few?

another pearl has been
thrown up on the concrete

all the bells were ringing
cover your mouth

kill me with their paper cuts
and margainal lines

and let me bleed
all over the place

use my red as your red
and we'll be red together


Monday, January 03, 2005

new year
new hopes
new dreams

John was asleep by 9 oclock on New Years Eve
and i was playing volume dictator
no screaming
no loud music
no celebration
take it to the streets

but it was a rather uneventful new years for me
but whatever, you know it's the year that matters
not the day that brings it on

go ahead and have a good new year's eve/day
i rather have a good year


where's the new music
i go to a record store every monday night/tuesday morning
for new music and got damn it sucks
i refuse to buy old back catalogues of bands i already know

where's the New Mars Volta Album "Francis The Mute"(March '05)
the new Radiohead (???????????????)
another Jimi Hendrix Reissue
ok the Nirvana box set is out...WHAT NOW???

everything i hear on the radio makes me want to puke
they all suck
and they all have bitten
Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Soundgarden, Green Day, Sunny Day Real Estate,
At The Drive In, Refused, Jeff Buckley, Radiohead, Pink Floyd, and every band that has come out of detroit, damn indie posers get me sick!!!!!

ok sorry about the banter
but i already have 2,104 songs on my Itunes
and i feel like nothing in there is that interesting
luckily there's always The Mahavishnu Orchestra to jam out too

check out Badly Drawn Boy's "The Hour Of The Bewilderbeast"
Beck "Mutations"
Christopher O'Reilly Plays Radiohead "True Love Waits"
George Harrison "All Things Must Pass"
Gomez "Bring It On"
Nick Drake "Pink Moon"
Raekwon "Only Built For a Cuban Linx" (read last post)
Wilco "A Ghost Is Born"

have i ever steered you wrong