B is for Stealing

i blame drake for this. listening to "over" on repeat you see. the following though, is all mine I vent my brain Open an airlock And let the crap go out into the Dead-dead-dead Of space-space-space I vent my brain Grab a hose and open all these windows The stench is getting higher It smells like some bad toes Quickly! Someone call the cleaner Come and smoke the place up Don’t let the heresies linger Linger-linger Linger-linger-lingum Too much on this mind Search the earth to find A way - I take my time Problem is, My time is money And that money is wasted on the tho-thoughts of money I vent my brain I vent my brain Open an airlock And let the crap go out into the Dead-dead-dead Of space-space-space Clean my house Sell the real estate to God Reap the profits of this exercise This venting This venting of my brain. Open an airlock And let the crap go out into the Dead-dead-dead Of space-space-space. 27:04:10 © tracy j h

from the creator of Dance Puny Mortals Dance & Kill it till dead! comes... Old Fashion Napalm. Critics agree this light and inspirational blah blah is quite possibly the blah blah of blah blah. enjoy. Lyrics: What’s that standing in front you. Is that your fear? Seems like. It’s growing extra large. You’re filled with tears Well I know a way, for us to be free Let go of your pain, and follow me. And I know a place where we can run AND BLOW OUR FEARS TO KINGDOM COME! Old Fashion Napalm! We’re blowing our fears, to kingdom come! Old Fashion Napalm! And we won’t stop till this thing is gone! Old Fashion Napalm! Blow way your fears; blow way your shame. Old Fashion Napalm! By-God-we’re-go-na-win this game! Who says, you got to live your life So unfulfilled? Who says, you got to spend your days Taking a pill Well enough is enough, get up and fight. Don’t have to be tough, no that’s alright Here is a sword, and here is your bomb NOW BLOW THAT LIE TO KINGDOM COME! Old Fashion Napalm! We’r...

Fill My Life With A Holy Praise.... in this day... in THIS day. amen.

i think it all went downhill when i stopped being a thought in God's mind and became, well, a being. skin has her own thoughts soul has his and the two refuse to be married refuse to go out on a date . even. refuse to have a meal. except at funerals... they BOTH agree on funerals. skin hears the sounds of decay and soul... soul hears nothing except maybe the sad strains of a headache of a life trying to tell skin what to do presshah! perhaps life should be a funeral. but no. there's only so much hymns EITHER of them can take. ah but i know the truth. the truth is... the truth IS... the truth is they both forgot that they were thoughts in God's mind. pax tracy j h

last week i wrote/recorded this rain piece [ see it here ]. below are the actual words.... the air is still. anticipation heightens the excitement as we stand waiting for her to touch us. we're all virgins again. ALL OF US! nervous lovers wondering, praying to whosoever will, hoping that we've earned this privilege to touch her, again, for the first time. and the scent of her doesn't help with the calming you know. we want to keep it, so nostrils fight to keep away whatever else society calls "smells" cause we... have to have this. this scent, this fragrance that causes us to put one tongue before two feet because SHE would want it that way. one touch. stop. one touch. stop. her actions are meant to inspire patience but the dry earth knows no such virtue. and we its children have adopted this mentality. so touch. draw up all your breath and just touch. get wet NOW! get wet NOW! stick your tongue out! stick your hand out! take her as she has taken you. all your yea...

things these days have been pretty tight. correction, tightly wound. things these days have been pretty tightly wound. i have been angry with a lot of people and myself. and maybe for just cause. or maybe not for just cause. but standing in the bathroom just a moment ago, i looked at my freshly clean shaven face (hotness!) and wondered, "[why and] how long will you be angry? what are you angry about!" i splashed some water on my face. and chuckled. i may be angry at myself - but i'm alive. i may be angry at my Hero - but he still exists i may be angry at the girl - but TWO always tango i may be angry at a lot of things - but there's battlestar galactica music! oh wow is there BSG MUSIC! this is not to be clichéd but the facts are that as crappy as life feels there are more reasons for me to push forward than give up the ghost. and while i don't know what frame i will awaken tomorrow i do know that 1God Almighty is Love 2 BSG is good 3 my mother is amazing (chuckle...

the area around the office went dark and there was thought of rain. so i went outside and stood there. waiting.. smelling the air. listening to the rumblings. with a book... and a pen. pax tracy j h

when i was in high school, i did (for a season) woodworking - part of the trilogy of evil (Technical Drawing, Woodworking, Metal Work). the first and the last i hated (especially metal work "practical", the theory was ok)... but WOODWORKING i loved. made a towel rack. that was fun actually. the thing is that in woodworking, comes wood splints, cuts and the possibility of accidents. the more you woodwork, the more your hand changes. Jesus Had Rough Hands. as i sent in a text to a friend of mine, "consider... Christ got the wood splinters before he was nailed to one. the man was a carpenter's son, imagine how much wood splinters and edges may have hurt him growing up." the image an entire faith is based on is that of the cross and rightfully so. that was his mission. but people very rarely (i think) bother to look at or try to figure out all that surrounds The Man. here was the Divine Son growing up in the care of his father Joseph (later called jonathan kent) a c...

One day self said to self while the body washed the dishes, “you know, you are a strange little boy. You know that right?” He shook the cup of its excess water and asked, “what ever do you mean?” He took the soapy sponge to the plate as self continued to self. “when you’re sick, you fight and push yourself to get better…” “but when I’m well…” “yes, when you’re well, you… you don’t do… anything! Why?” he rinsed the third glass in silence…

Exiled Stranded by the rivers of Babylon Lost For words and sin are present And they are many. Tears hardened like wax in my hand My child is dead Still, Born from yesterday, I held out hope… Like Israel’s lepers Chuckle My brothers Look how all of us are one now Ceremoniously unclean in word Indeed Shipped on the same boat to Assyria To Medes To Persia To Death! To li------ Yes, a quick toast… to lies! Before we go on But where? But… Where are the prophets? They sit in chains. Where are the priests? They waste away. So I am left to plot my own redemption. I will keep their gods at a distance And hope mine covers the nakedness I will keep their gods at a distance Though they call me one. Because while there many princes in Babylon I remain Exiled Stranded by the rivers of Babylon Lost For words, and sin are present And they are many. Penned 06:04:10 Tracy j Hutchings ©