"Let's see," Tyler said.

"Let's see," Tyler said, "where most Americans get their information from."

snow falls in the 'qua

"more poetry for you tonight, folks," d. spoke into the microphone. He had been feeling the creative inspiration of late. As time past he could become more objective about his emotional reality thereby seeing more which gave his writing more depth. snow falls in the 'qua...faint whiffs of barely seen flakes felt against flesh smoking in the midnite moon...

orion stretches his bow as I think how we are all in the hunt...

Bill was on from the 'qua on a heavy political discussion about the intersection of culture and politics...

the forum was the kennedy school of politics in honor of jfk jr...

they were lauding him for being so foresighted...

it made me want to puke...

anyone with those connections could be easily foresighted...

how cush to have your opinions listened to with all the financial muscle to back it up...

then came ken auletta and a bunch of other heavies at another forum this one on why the media isn't trusted...

if they could see their karma they wouldn't have to ask that question...

still, the cigarette went down smooth as thoughts of personal glory past me...

and the reflection of the faded ghosts of thanksgiving pasts and the different selfs I have been...

there is in the still moment of the midnite 'qua...I could feel it...the old power rising up from the quiet movie set below...the ol' indian magic that comes out to play at night when the current naticves have gone to to sleep...

rain in the 'qua

in the still of the qua night D. prepared to read his poem for the beginning of the night's podcast. With the advent of Facebook all the noise of his youth had come crashing back. He didn't give a fuck. It was all about expression and the journey into the night and how far one could take into the realm of the imagination before snapping before the onslaught of reality. rain in the 'qua listening to tangled up in blue with the itunes on channelling out the superflous noise of America...

reading about how to channel information...

with an angle...

for a buck....

...fighting off the thought that no one cares...

one more time into the poetical dream...

brown hues of golden leaf written on poetry...

darkness going hand and hand with thoughts of glory...

which way is it gonna fall?

it's about the information, right?

it's movement...

the way it is marketed...

the way it is shooked down....

is your information important or has it gone stale?

Do you work with your hands for an honest living but move no information so you're barely making it?...

america at fantasy in a cowbody movie...

shooting everyone up...

unfortunately, these actions have consequences...

I hope I don't get the mess on me...

Missile Silos

The Radio Dream is about sustainability. They seek to reclaim the land from the destruction of Zack Smiter's development plans. The missile silos, abandoned after Zack blew up the world, have been reclaimed by the Radio Dream to hold house parties. They would find cool musicians, if not themselves, to play beats and create images in a Jungian symposium of mood and feeling. Tonight it was Mad Happy.

Imagnary Radio Dream Podcast...

the line between reality and fiction was always a dubious one for D. at best...tonight he was constructing an imaginary podcast...