RENT A MARBLE PAPER WEIGHT

I tried to make it to the show,

the dude down the street got me all caught up,

he wanted what I had left last month, 

and I needed what he passed over every stirring moment,

today we watched the girl upstairs rearrange her furniture,

over and over again......

She built the window to be a wall,

so the mail always arrived late,

her girlfriend came over to linger crowding every afternoon,

here she is now,

shot swift she passes a caravan of sedans,

then down shifts and whips her Mazda thru to the alley.....

Our brothers ran an ad on Craig's list,

offering to purchase notes of wisdom that might glisten shiny when attached to spokes,

they rode their bikes through the camp sites of strangers,

post-it notes flew through falling with the leaves,

their wisdom was ignited to roast marsh-mellows ....

Her ideas flaunted the fact that she never grew too soon,

I meet her in the future where basements cage towers,

my feelings were singed,

but she never would justify such a trip....

POETRY JUNKY

I cling to this air,
it climbs and follows my legs up these hills,
chilled it encourages yet disturbs my sense of being,
so I continue this climb concrete,
and this climb swampy and bogged down,
sometimes struggling like an over-burdened donkey,
and at other times I sing and hover like an angel.

Monkey Word Play

The cedar burned through midnight's haven,
they risked capture east of the valley,
cautious and depressed they slept slouched,
entrenched below those aloof billows,
this smoke lounged and lingered bold,
and rose,
fumes that invaded their dreams....


 

Monkeying Around in the Pharmacy

     The old white tiled floors in the pharmacy were in desperate need of a dope monkey's efficiently rhythmic  sweeping mojo, and I won't hesitate to brag when it comes to my sweeping abilities. I am a bad mamba jamba with a broom, any shape any size or quality, it doesn't matter much.  I believe the two jobs I had prior to the pharmacy(keep in mind that I am still 16  yrs old as junior year begins)  were mowing neighbors lawns that began around age 12, and after that I got a job at 15, as a bus-boy in a local all-u-can-eat pizza place which I lost (would be re-hired off and on there over the next few years) due to my spontaneous excursion to the west coast that  previous summer.  A new saga rooted by this fresh line of pharmaceutical work was about to unfold. The bliss from discovering new drugs were continually being launched into new cosmic levels of giddiness as I experimented with various multitudes of whatever  drugs you want to imagine exists.  It was quite normal that I would show up  to the pharmacy blazed off my ass, I worked the front counter's cash register, and I managed to just get by for about a month or so here at this particular job. I could've stolen money from the till, but that wasn't what I was interested in, I was dead set on the drugs.  Every night as the minutes were breaching forward, slugging towards the store's closing hour, began to warp parallel with time's sweet pace into a swift  gallop full ahead, I was about to hit another chemical-time-space trifecta,  because my floor sweeping duties were right around the bend! The standard wall clock's plain boring and uniformly black hands were made into something fantastically  spectacular to me simply because I knew 'what time it was!'  In my dope-addled mind this ignited a feverish excitement as my imagination coursed images of the vast selection of pilled-out aisles that I would soon be exploring.  Each night I was given a span of ten to twenty minutes which really depended on how I paced my broom-men-ship.  My opportunity had come, and it came over and over again with each shift I worked.  Each pill stolen ten more were added the next shift, whole bottles were then added, I couldn't contain my greed. This was an overwhelming paradise that any dope fiend couldn't possibly manage properly.  The first day I worked there I was given this task since I was the new guy, and naturally it became one of my regular closing duties. I  never had to seem over-eager because no one else wanted to do it, and so it naturally fell upon me. I loved it!  I was given this shit task and secretly celebrated inside every time.  By this point in my life I had drank plenty of times, smoked a hell-a weed, tried coke, tripped on a lot of acid, but hadn't yet gotten into pills very much. I remember having to ask this chic who was a senior which particular pills were the most recreational, therefore I could narrow down what I was looking for during my twenty minutes of sweep time. She told me to look for Valiums, Soma, and some others. The others I don't remember mainly because I know I tried them and quickly realized that they weren't recreationally cohesive to the chemicals I really enjoyed. Thank God she didn't mention oxycontin or any of the other opiates that I learned about years later.  If she had I may have gotten strung out on opiates a year or so earlier. This year was especially  dedicated to Valium and Soma, and it  took over my life very quickly. Valiums basically made me feel inasanly drunk and I would binge on them for days. Some people would pass out once they ingested benzos (valiums, klonipns, Xanax, are some of the commonly abused benzos, I would get into the others later that year) but I was a maniac that stayed up mixing them with weed and alcohol, frying up food at three in the morning, passing out with peanut butter and tortillas, or be seen running naked down the street underneath the pitch black sky.  My skinny teenage body illuminated by headlights of some very surprised cars that passed by. They also began my deep run of trips to jail that occurred usually at least once every couple of months, and every now and then I would make two trips in a week. This newly found pharmaceutical grade intoxicant also began my visits to the hospitals. I specifically remeber one day that my mom tried in a new strategy in all of her frustrating attempts to get me to straighten up. She brought me to a drug and alcohol counselor in order to get me some help. I was such a smart-ass know-it that I frustrated her and she told my mom and I that eventually I would experience jails, hospitals, or death. The worst scenario would consist of me causing another to die if I didn't get my shit together.  I totally ignored any advice or warnings continuously over and over again for too many years, and in the same strange measure it was the correct amount of time for me to experience enough pain to where eventually I would truly hunger for God. My compulsive need to alter my reality was insane, what would it take for me to change? Many years of being dealt the same consequences for my rampages, and then the omnipotent intervening hand of God.  In a disturbingly desperate state I simply had to cry out to HIM, and oh how HE knew my heart.  It was a sad heart but one that still maintained this foreign flavor of hope which still lingered, a taste that longed for a deeper purposed life than the hedonistic state to which I was currently enslaved.

THIS MONKEY'S LEGEND IS BORN

As my junior year ensued, to the depths of dope depravity I pursued, and so I was desperately determined to ingest any combination of chemicals that might save my brain from the dancers in my head.  Marijuana was like magic and so I sought to inhale the minimal amounts of oxygen necessary to sustain consciousness, saving the remainder lung capacity for hitting that ganja.  I loved  drinking beers for brunch, and eating acid for dinner.  My attendance was slacking, I had the old school rouse of staying during the attendance count and then slipping out un-detected perfected, or so I thought. Those damn teachers had it out for me from the beginning, and I couldn't blame them. When I was in class I usually slept.  My reputation had been overblown into an ultra-ghetto stereo-type of a druggy.  This image was exaggerated before it was due, two years prior. My status as a burned out dope monkey grew phenomenally my freshman year, and all from a shitty wooden tobacco pipe my buddy Daniel had stolen from a smoke shop in the mall called Tobacco Lane. Daniel and I shared second period, Word Geography Class together, and the teacher, Mr. Thompson, was strict but overall pretty damn cool in hindsight. I remember he strived so hard to merely convert everyone into focusing on obtaining if nothing else in life, our high school diploma, at bare minimum. He use to have this saying, "You can smoke dope and live on a motorboat, but as long as you have your high school diploma they can never take that away from you!" (and of course I never did get my high school diploma, I was too cool for school and settled for the General Equivalence Diploma). Daniel decided un-wisely to smuggle this pipe into class to show me and a classmate, Everett.  Everett was already an expert in the fancy ways of the stoner at the fair age of fifteen, and so we sought out his advice on this particular smoking device. On this day there happened to be a substitute teaching for Mr. Thompson, it was some lady sub, I don't remember much about her except that she totally busted our monkey asses. Either she believed we were cheating on a quiz or being disruptive as we just chatted away about this pipe. Something caused us to draw her attention at this point, and so she strolled over and caught Matt with the pipe in hand holding it under his desk. She called for one of the assistant principals to come down and drag him out and detain him in his office. Next entered the sidekick, the second assistant principal, Mrs. Gilvery, she was our school's own tall, short yellow-haired, big bird lookin' female principal. She went and whispered into the sub's ear and then looked our way, and called for Daniel to come down to the office. Ten minutes later I was next! Mr. Attaway, the dude assistant principal was trying his damnedest to obtain a confession that we were planning on smoking pot, and I don't even know what this would have accomplished. Did he believe we would lead him to a huge stash of drugs, and then to a gang of fifteen year old armed drug dealers as well? It sure did seem that way in how determined he was in interrogating us. We stuck to the story that we had some pipe tobacco at home, and persisted in our explanation that this was all we had been intending to put in this pipe and smoke.  They had nothing on us really, the pipe was brand new, it never even had tobacco smoked out of it. I remember that our parent's were notified, and I ultimately just embarrassed and shocked my parents once again, but tobacco was the least of their concerns at this point in time. Over the next twelve years they would sadly develop a dramatically jaded attitude towards my dope-addled troubles. Slowly in them grew this sick tolerance,  their reactions had become ever-changing. I do know that the number one consequence of this episode from my freshman year had catapulted this image of me immediately into a different realm to all who heard this story of us getting caught at school with a pipe. A week later I learned that my classmates had convoluted this story into something extremely beyond what the truth was. The rumor going around was that I was caught with a crack-pipe on campus. This shitty status surrounded me even years after highschool and lingers in the atmosphere of my hometown even to this day. It didn't help that I added reality to this rumor.  High school shifted swiftly by as mere background in this life's revolving fixtures, eventually I would smoke crack, and I realized it didn't produce the euphoria I hungered for. The dope finale for this monkey's hedonistic craze meant heroin.

wordplay poem to exercise this monkeys brain

We train those bends to sing those cries, 
those strains of sound native madness, 
those saturated fountains, 
those densely shrouded curtains, 
hills slid west in this azure autumn age, 
the trees shuddered, and ran this course shifting through our last parade,
watch wildly those shock rendered, 
pop-trended, 
raisin branded, 
slick-slanted,
savor flavor jive.

THIS MONKEY IS BACK!!!! (back to school with his little bro along for the ride too)

The August heat in Texas swelters to the simmering sun's cry. I was back at Keller High School, and I don't think the staff was quite prepared for the antics I had in store for them that year. Jincos were the jeans to be seen wearing, pagers were more prevalent than cell phones, and LSD was more popular than Ectasy is now, at least in this monkey's part of town. I had that old 85' Toyota Celica back in my possession, my vehicle which I handled usually somewhat intoxicated, and it had a sun-roof to facilitate efficient ventilation that might clear out any smells that could land my ass in jail.  Again I was getting away with so much madness, but this would all eventually get me caught up,  over and over again. Most of my crimes were petty offenses, like "Missy Misdemeanor' (the name Missy Elliot original went by), except I wasn't a chic, but I was gangsta', not really but I thought I was a quite the badass. I was a  little monkey heathen. This story reveals  a picture of day one of my junior year in high school back in 1998. This day was also day one of my brother, Aaron's freshman year, and he was about to experience high school the 'badass' way, like his big brother. I was up freshly showered, clean and ready with more than an hour to spare before that initial morning bell rang at 7:30 a.m.  This glorious scheduled ringing  sounded all over America signifying that all us little teenage monkeys needed to hurry and usher into class.
"Aaaarrrooon lets get going! If you want a ride with me you need to come on!" I belted out my demands over the noise of the shower.
"I am almost done dude, what the hell is your problem? We got way enough time," Aaron replied in confusion, but he was smart and figured it out quick,"so I guess you got plans before school starts, huh?"
"Just hurry yea we are going to stop at Eddie's, meeting up with my boys, you should feel special I'm even letting you come." I was such a dick head to my lil' bros but they knew how to engage with verbal jabs right back at me.
"Man Isaac you are such a jackass, Im gettin out right now."
"Okay I hope you got your best blouse ready for school  princess...... Lets go, come on shit-terd!"

I walked outside of my house and looked up at the grey smattered sky, a humid clad dawn available for me to stare into its abyss, to wonder how good I could get myself feeling this early in the morning. I had to be in stoned mode without drawing to much attention to myself in school. In that fashion and many other ways I am a walking contradiction, I love attention and yet I always wanted to fly underneath authority's punishing radar. I was a nonsensical dope maniac. My dad came outside and asked me why we were leaving so early for school. I told him that we were going to get Mc Donalds before school, and he didn't inqiure any further. If only he knew what went on when I left for school, and how much school I actually attended. He would find out off and on that I had been skipping school plenty. Aaron sauntered out and hopped into my car. We were off and Aaron's expression signified that he realized that I had something adventerous planned but he wasn't exactly sure. I drove quick and proud, cut through some back roads and came up where Florence Rd. tees at Ottinger, I hopped out and ran behind a road sign that marked where I had stashed the remnants of an 18 pack of Budweiser.
"What? So you are going to drink beer at 630 in the morning Isaac.... really?" Aaron didn't seemed to understand.
"Yea this is how I wake up man, so I was only half lying to Dad, this is my Mc Donalds," I cracked open a warm beer and downed it, then cracked another one. I had to drink them quick because of my time constraints. "Lets go smoke some weed!" I cackled like just another dumb teenage stoner on a mission, and with the beer in hand and the gear shift in another, my knee restraining the steering wheel as not to veer off course from my destination. I charged the gas pedal with my foot and we were off.
I made it past all the areas of Keller I could have been spotted by the local cops and as we pulled into Eddies's neighborhood I was ready, but was Aaron? I really didn't intend for him to participate, I only really cared about how much weed I could smoke, so selfishly if he part-took the it simply meant in my fiendish head, less for me. However, all of my peers in high school seemed top display the stereotypical attitudes of young party animals. We parked amongst five recognizable as being my friend's rides, I grinned at Aaron as we hopped out like a smart-ass. "Don't let them pressure you into anything you wouldn't normally do Aaron," I tried to warn him, but as I was saying my friends were some peer-pressuring jack asses. It was on!...  as soon as we tramped thru Eddie's house, opened the back patio's sliding door, and the scene swamped my emotions to break into a pothead antics.
"Whats up myyyyy niiggggaaasss!"
"Whatsup Burnes.... Its Burney Snow and little Burns is with him, what up Aaron!" Eddie welcomed us, and there was the collective close bunch of my friends that I mainly drank, smoked weed, tripped acid, and skipped much school with in order to divulge in these activities in some balanced time. In a mangled circle next to Eddie going clockwise was Daniel, Toni, Tyler, and Jeremy. A macgyver styled j-funky-rigged up as a make shift steam roller pipe was passed to me and then I returned it to Eddie completeing one round of a grand marijuana passage.
"Hey Aaron you got to hit this dude!" he said and everyone  convincingly added, "Yea bro don't be a pussy," yelped the chorus of red-eye-ripped to the hilt monkeys that chimed there song and dance of peer pressure, and so Aaron got high with us. He already pretty popular amongst the peers in his own class, so now he could brag about chillin' with some upper class-men. Later on he informed me he got so dizzy in his first peiod class that he had to excuse himself, so the first day for him in high school he had to spend laying down for awhile in the bathroom in order to collect himself, after throwing up. It seemed funny then but I now feel a bit guilty, but it happened and he turned out to be very spiritually sound regardless of that negative influence that my friends and I might have been guilty of. I went to school for some of that first day, really after that first week it was a struggle to go at all. Can you believe I was once the kid with perfect attendance all throughout my school career up all the way through junior high. I guess I just couldn't do it anymore, I couldn't be that 'above and beyond' perfectionist anymore that once had defined me. The less school I attended the more drugs I could ingest, that was the perfect balance I believed I could achieve as a teenage monkey. I know it makes no sense when you think of an objective definition of a balanced life, but in my own subjectively un-clear state of reality I had figured something chemically heroic out. How long could I run with these drugs?...  a long time, too fucking long, but I really had to learn this shit myself. I am still and then really was an unruly stubborn.... an ultra  stubborn,  I mean I was a bowling ball hard-headed little punk, and so in this character I truly had to live and learn everything myself.  I could of listened to others advice very simply. Those warnings about the destructive path I was venturing down were all coming alive one at at time, but if I hadn't experienced this 'Hell' personally I wouldn't have been so desperate years later to yearn for God and the ultimate reason He has me here. I now believe I have a real  purpose today in the grand scheme of all of these things, as crazy as they were then,  they're much crazier in a joyful manner today,  all because of Jesus' love.

THIS DOPE MONKEY COMES BACK HOME

My mom eventually tracked me down to where I was staying. After she talked to Karen(Rustin's mom), I then decided that I might as well go back. I can't remember the exact telephone conversation but I am sure that she was crying, and obviously she had hit all the right chords of confused regret. Also I was very homesick no matter how much of a badass I thought I was, I was an extremely lonely individual. I couldn't continue on with my mom so distressed about my well-being, and after all back in Texas I could get away with drinking and smoking pot all I wanted, even at my parents house. I just had to bull-shit them with a higher degree of finesse now, and until the next time I was caught not behaving only then would I have to manifest myself further into an even bigger lier. It would go on this way for years, and I believed that I was becoming slicker and slicker each time some consequential event occurred, all the while I merely had been rapidly transforming into a humungous strung-out dope monkey. I was grounded for at least a month, promised I would be a good son, and I had my car back to myself by the time my junior year in high school rolled around. THis is where my life begins to get really jacked up, all due with me trying to be a responsible teen with a job, so my brilliant fogged out brain pursues and acquires a job working in the pharmacy of a local store, called Eckerd's (they are out of business now, and no not because of my stealing...lol), in K-town. It was right next door adjoining the old Metro Food Outlet, which is also gone, their vacant buildings were eventually replaced by a church.

THIS SLINKY'S REGRET

Slinky down thru a new town she blew thru,
high speed velocity to simply forget,
her uprise is masked to allow fountains to sound,
her dawn's dew rolled dice,
her song soothed to comfortably caress,
as gaping gardens twisted her hips,
those swooshing south strayed,
starved she splashed my stash,
crying she danced to a beat I'd never forget,
so I staved off shots sour,
she was my shady sunrise,
and was born this slinky's regret.

THIS MONKEYS JUST GETTIN' WARMED UP

We arrived back at the Jenkowskis house around three o'clock that afternoon, man was my body sun-drenched, exhausted and dehydrated. I simply ate a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich, washed down with three tall glasses of water. Then languidly I strolled to the guest bedroom and jumped up in onto a top bunk-bed, with a space-efficient desk below replacing the bottum bunk. I love those soft afternoon siestas, they seem to always contain the most vividly pleasant dreams, those naps that provide peaceful sleep but unfortunately they're always a crap-shot as to the state in which I might awake. I will either feel contently rested for the evening or swamped with a heavy head which usual compels me too continue sleeping deep into the evening or past midnight even. This time I awoke gratefully healed from the sun's beating around seven optimistic and ready to go out to a house party Lisa had told me about on the way back from Avila Beach.
Lisa was fifteen, only a year younger than me, and so again I maintained a huge secret crush on her. I am sure she knew that I liked her a bit so when I say secret I mean that the majority of this enormous infatuation was what I held a captive secret, or I believed. Lisa being so attractive was already immune to teenage boys falling for her easy, and so this helped maintain some semblance of a guise as being a somewhat cool and mysterious individual, again this was mostly my own hilariously created perception. Karen was very laid back and understood that we would probably be drinking so she held a laid back sensible stance that we should not drink and drive, also neither one of us had a car. We were dropped at this dude named Josh's house that Lisa knew from school. Josh was extremely similar to me as were the majority of the people that showed, in that we all were a lot of unsupervised drunkenly-stoned, horny, and rambunctious bunch of kids trying to get as wild and smashed as our physical body's would allow for the short duration of that night's black expanse. Bone THugs n' Harmony, Snoop Dogg, Notorious B.I.G., Tupac Shukar brazenly bumped the speakers and enveloped with a random mixture of grunge and punk rock from that era of the late 90's. Nirvana swelled and swooned with the raspy voice Cobain catapulted into a flash of short exploding stardom. Pearl Jam, Janes' Addiction, Soundgarden, BUsh, Smashing Pumpkins, etc... all rocked those speaker and created basically another cliche of an American's youth party atmosphere that most of us have experienced, some participated in more extremes of this common scene than others. I had a few beers in me when I was wondering and exploring the premises to find a few hunkered down somewhere in secret hiding to get high, usually people wouldn't want to share their personal stash with the whole flock of maniacs in attendance. I was finally getting some chemical relief, but just barely, this dope monkey was just gettin' warmed up....

A SWIM SPENT

She swam the rising tide jacked up on crack,
she ran the streets bold,
but rest assured her brain bore waves frothed to swelter,
depths passive and less cold,
huge monsoons poured but remain cramped and collared,
sent to bend-up,
pent-up engaged,
ready to race,
steady spent on that dicy climax,
to stroll out grinning,
implode wearing her shine simple,
death will grip her cries,
and I believe a symphony soon will surround her,
soothing surrender sacks her delivered.

PACIFIC BEACH MONKEY

The next day was exhilarating, and it began very early, well getting up at nine in the morning is always an early rise for this dope monkey. Foggy I awoke with that dreamy Pacific binded to a half asleep-state of mind, my thoughts so giddy because this day-trip had been planned within an hour of crashing the previous night. Karen had some fresh fruit cut up and Rustin, Lisa ,and I ate lightly and hurriedly. Then we were off! The drive west filled an hour that thrust my excitement into acceleration, sense of a new adventure thrived as I gazed at the rapidly transforming landscape which raced alongside the telephone and power lines. The fervor continually compounded to the inner-depths of a sober head with words chattering at the shit-ton of un-restrained lunatics laughing and dancing just on the inner- surface of my skull. I welcomed them usually with sick hospitality, although the majority of the time they took advantage, abusing my welcoming attitude by treading painfully, prodding and burdening my soul.
When we arrived at Avila Beach I was freakin pumped. I was warned that the Pacific was very chilly even during the summer so I ran in for rapid dolphin-esque submerge, plunging in a methdoical swimmers dive right before the tide flowed up over my knees, and all my instincts from 10 years on the swim team growing up sank in. Anybody who knows anything knows this is the quickest method to get your body adjusted to cold waters. Lisa was hanging out with some of her friends, they were all pretty dang sexy, and I was too shy to talk therefore I instinctively resorted to showing off in order to obtain some much needed attention from all those bikini clad females present. I left Rustin and the girls behind, sprinting off towards the pier. Pedestrains, bicyclers, and fisherman all jumbled up and down the wooden salt swollen planks creating quite the atmosphere. As you have figured already I had never been to an ocean or beach yet in my life, maybe to the Gulf of Mexico as a young child but that doesnt fit into my adult memory as a credible life experience. I made my way down towards the end of the pier, everyones's focus was on me, or so I thought. I was the center of my own personal universal confusion. I was the cliche of teen angst, the stereotype of some young rebel that never heeded any warnings from adults who had been there before me. I figured they were all born ridiculously grown up and lost in the responsibilities of life. This was my warped sense of reality, but as soon as I climbed up on top of the railing I had drawn others in, several people's eye were now upon me, they gazed with intense curiosity. As I jumped off the pier, adrenaline engulfed and coursed thru my veins and headed towards my nerves. I had learned as a young boy from literally living and growing up in my parent's gymnastic's center, easy reckless ways to produce those chemicals that 'adrenaline junkies' often sought. The main reason people were basically staring, wondering what the hell was wrong with me, (looking at me like I was a maniac monkey) was because I had just broken a law that was common sense to the majority of the native beach bums. After swimming the distance of the pier back to shore I was quickly accosted by the local Beach Patrol Squad. The recently acquired marijauna leaf that I had tattooed on my back did not help my cause in not recieving a fat ticket for my offense. I had no idea jumping off the pier was now allowed. Luckily my ignorance produced a very plausible and believable defense which aided in my innocent 'dumb Texan' defense. They let me off with a warning. In the next ensuing years though my warnings were beginning to expire. I would find myself in and out of jails half dozen times a year, ever year the majority of my young adult life.

THIS MONKEY'S MIND A RIOT AND IN DESPERATION (back to the chronicles of a Dope Monkey)

Rustin and I galloped out into that orange-smattered, blue-tinted, and purple-phased dusk's promising horizon energized. Our vehicle was an old blue 88' Honda Civic. We were 16 damnit and we were freakin' invincible, well at least I thought I was, and so I chased this naive dream with very little doubt that I could ever be stopped. Rustin usually just laughed at my absurd behavior. I always wanting to smoke pot and consume as much liquor as I could possibly find as a minor. I was at the genesis of acquiring my status of a dope fiend, which eventually would transform me into a full blown dope monkey. Rustin was straight edge and I actually respected his character, but I couldn't really figure him out. He seemed so at ease and didn't seem to have any of those urges to escape as I did, so I out of respect I didn't act out as much around him. Looking back on this it was most likely better that his personality even-keeled mine out a bit when we were together. The first stop we made at one of his buddy's house, his 'Ska' band was meeting up to get in a few hours of practice. Since they were all straight edge naturally I wasn't offered any drugs or alcohol and was a bit uneasy and agitated, so I just smoked cigarettes and listened to his band practice until 9 or 10 that night. I hated that I felt so unnerved no matter where I was or who I was around if when sober. I could of been in the Bahamas sober and still would mainly focus on how I could get high or drunk. I really couldn't help it I figured, but thinking back on all those times it cooly helped me realize how sick my little brain was. I didn't merely have a one track mind, I was the owner of a compulsively steaming single destined-set thought processor that continued to chug further into desperation and unobtainable happiness.

SLICK in SANDALS

Slick in Sandals,

quicker than a bank robber's getaway car,

lovely lilacs sway to sweet scents simultaneously surrender,

summer sweats and shed beads bungled towering trees tops,

I am nothing but with 'Him' I am eternal,

but how sickly I forget and so I cower in dissent,

these day's He has restored some amazing moments of clarity,

and in all things HE is due the ultimate credit,

I am blessed in faith revived,

and in His peace I can forever reside!

Supernatural Strength! (from the present, not part of the stories I have been posting)

Why not share the truth of Jesus Christ and his sweet, tender grace with all the people engaged in this weird new venue labeled the blogosphere? These astonishing transformations continue everyday as I seek Him humbly without fear, I have given myself all to Him, and it is 'a day at at time'(to steal another once hated cliche from A.A). I have to let go of doubts and when they arise I know it is evil trying to turn me back to the shelter and comfort of drugs and alcohol, and so easy it was before to negotiate within myself, giving in to the wants of the devil. The devil... another word people are easily tured off by when hearing, but he is real, he knows what I have been up to and he is afraid that I will continually become a stronger asset to God's will on Earth. I have opened my mind and heart and feel inasane strength in my walk with Jesus. It would be a shame for me not to proclaim him, before I would be embarrassed but really I was ashamed of myself. I knew Jesus from church so I didn't feel genuine enough to speak of him to anyone, especially in my darkest days(strung out on heroin). I am completely born again with Him, no matter how cliche that sounds. All of the 'buzz words' like God, church, and Jesus sadly turn off the masses because of fanatics and people who aren't real Christians that judge and condemn people. Dont't get me wrong I am not trying to sound like I understand everything under the spectrum about what God really wants us to be as 'real' Christians. I am His student, so let me tell you something crazy joyous and uplifting I recently experienced. Yes the last three weeks I have felt close to God and have surrendered and been compltetley courageous in making major changes, not only in sobriety, but in asking Jesus to have all of me, for I am His anyways, why not embrace it? However, the last several days I have stopped taking medicine that helps people get off Heroin, called Suboxone, it isn't as hardcore in trying to stop taking as Heroin withdrawals can be (methadone withdrawals are the worst in my experience). It is a mild opiate, and since discontinuing its use, I have been in a lot of pain and discomfort. So I prayed, exercised stayed busy, had my roommates pray for me, and then I remembered my brother, Aaron I havent asked to pray for me in several weeks. The first day I had gone without my medicine I ached and had typical opiate withdrawal symptoms. I had finally gotten off work around 10pm, that first day was nearing it's demise. Aaron lives a few blocks from where I reside in Austin now, so I called him, and asked if I could swing by. He was one of the first people I have made myself accountable to in Austin aware of my mission I had set off earlier that day. I had told him to check up on me because I could of been triggered to shoot dope, but God had other plans for me. So I trucked on thru the first day and found myself desperately seeking God but couldn't feel him, so I sought and prayed, and now I in my brothers backyard, under the beautiful nights sky-scape. Aaron prayed and broke out of prayer and had a conversation with me, I said, "Whoaa, so yo just break in and out of prayer, what are you doing?" (I have so much to learn), "YEa... thats how we do it," he grinned at me. Towards the end of what before would of been a prayer to put me to sleep,LOL!..., awakened the presence of Jesus, GOd, and the Holy Spirit, alive in me!
I had seen others do what once I would have mocked and sworn off as fanatical lunacy, healing prayer, which doesn't always work, but after my first encounter with it I believe it all has too do with how open you are to letting 'Him" in, and probably how spiritual the one praying for you is. It isn't a quick fix, it doesn't happen every time, I still had to go thru several more days of discomfort and withdrawal. However, I was so desperate and so open and willing to try anything because my will was destroying my spirit and soon would kill me. So Aaron asks the Lord to fill me with his presence, heal me, and give me continued strength. I felt an intense tingling sensation from head to toe, numbing all of my body, and killing all those symptoms for the rest of that night till I went to sleep. Aaron asked me if I felt any better, and I didn't even speak for a good 20 secs, I was analyzing this intense supernatural overwhelming feeling. I am yours Jesus I had proclaimed weeks before, so now he was providing me the strength to go against my brain was used to in the last 12yrs. I don't know except by the grace of God, I went thru those withdrawals and working a job during these days as well. The ensuing few days I continued to pray and worship and the same sensations overwhelmed me throughout the day, reminding me that he was there with me always, no matter if I felt 'Him" or not. There will be days I won't feel this and it's cool cause I am not a 'Jesus robot', I know he is there even thru those times he chooses not to reveal himself to me. It is in these seemingly unfulfilling times that I learn the most and look back on what had been revealed, just in a different fashion. I will never fully know all of God's love but I can seek him thru daily prayer, and am working on the meditation. God love us so freakin' much, all of us, I encourage all those doubters to embrace Him, it is the best feeling ever, and coming from me that should say a lot if you knew me and how I once lived. I am learning more and more everyday. When I have doubts about heaven or hell, I can take solace in that my little mind can't grasp all Him overnight, but I can let my faith grow thru some simple actions. I don't have to identify or let my imagination run with those doubts, just accept them and pray for them to dissipate. It is the Devil tryin' to confuse the crap out of me and I am learning how easy it is to not allow satan to sway me. It's all and everything thru God's fantas-mical sweet Glory! Duudddeee!!!! Sccwwhhhhttt!!!!! DUDE! SWEET Potatos!

Wordplay; FOR THIS MONKEYS BROSKIS' CANOSKIS'

I GOTZ THRICE RICE COUNTING KOOL KELLOG'ED OUT BROS'

SAM THE CAM, SIR CAMELOT 3000, CAMEL BREATH SETH; HIS HUMP IS ON HIS BACK AND HE CARRIES NINJAS IN HIS PACK......

JESSE THE MESSY ONE, THE LOST ON ROADWAYS GURU, M.C. MC GROOVIN' JEHAUS' JERMAINE'S WHITE SON, LEVER 3000; EXTRUSION OF THE THIRD EYE TO BE A CRUDE VERSION OF HIM IS SIN....

AARON THE ERRONEOUS, AIRHEAD MC FANCY PANTS, MICAH MIKED UP ON MARY POP A DOUGAL MC FRUGAL; IN HIS PANTS GAS GRIPES AND STAINS CURDLED UP TO FILTER HIS KILTER STILTED OUT FELTED SHIRT OFF HIS BACK HE'LL GIVE....

ISAAC(ME, YES I AM MY OWN BROTHER, IF THAT MAKES SENSE TELL ME CAUSE IT DON'T TO ME~LIKE AN OLD FOLKS HOME) BIG EYE MC FLY, BUG EYES, SNOWMAN, SNOWBIRD, SHIT`TERD, EYESAC, SAC N' SAVE, TITAC, EYE YACKS A LOT, FURBY, BURNEY SNOW, BURNSSSS MC BURNS A LOT OF DRUGS(NOT TODAY), SNOWMOBILE 8888, OJOS, OJITOS, SAPO, SAPITO; TO DRIVE A TRAIN DRY INTO THE PASTURE, OFF THE TRACKS MADE BY THE ABOMINABLE SNOWMAN, DIRTS UP THE CARPET WITH BLOOD SKIN FLAPS THAT SHOULD READ IM IN THE RED, I SHOULD BE DEAD FOLDED TIMES A MYRAID SCOLDED INFINITE BOLD TREMORS, AND FIT JAMMIN TRIM,, WOUT GOD I WOULDN'T BE SO KOOL WITH SUCH GLORIOUS NON-SENSE!


AND NOW MY FAVORITE NEW NICK-NAME, IS CRAZY UNCLE ISAAC. BEFORE, BEING CALLED 'CRAZY' WOULD OF MADE ME FEEL 'MAD', BUT THE MOST IMPORTANT TITLE I KNOW LOVE IS DADDY ISAAC, HOPEFULLY I WILL HEAR MASON SAY THIS IN DUE TIME!

D.D.Monkey's poetry: Dedicated to an Angel, Live Beyond Us in Joyous Peace

Dreams of dark horses galloped incessantly,

Why did She always have to be so damn clever?

and away She journeyed to stay,

She always did discover those foreign places to hide,

Her head consumed their lies,

and She cried shaken stirring never softly,

Times unsoundly encoded,

Smiles gone to where they're stationed,

Fragile fever docked its fleet inside,

and the Darkness reveled over those innocent disheveled,

Only few She revealed,

Froth from fear those that crept She consistently concealed,

FUCK THOSE BLACK MAD MIND NINJAS!

FUCK THIS PARASITIC LUNACY!

They kicked and sifted the sands to manic reality,

They whispered their bullshit climbed from slim existence,

She graded and judged her resistance,

and at intervals some days they vacated the premises,

Ahhhh!!!!! the sweet relief evergreen clean to forget those obscene,

So She again was reminded to venture intensely,

and explore another updraft filtered so swiftly,

She wandered free and loved us especially loud,

Singing to spirits~overwhelmed so proud,

but then once again,

Death came refreshed,

Too much joy always burned out her candle,

Back beneath that barren rotted realm,

and so that subway's dirty whisperings reigned again,

Back and back and thrice and spliced like a grapefruit's brain,

A solid decade she aimed and aimed to kill their uncharted claim,

The Spirit came and She cried and cried to Him,

Only brief synapses and overpasses faulty collapses,

and I know She did...She did Believe!

She knew the Spirit that kept unfolding to ravish the pain,

and So the sacred Spirit grew so distant it seemed too far gone,

So lost the only connection left obtainable via triggered deception,

We love you Sweet Angel,

Tell all the others who left the pain they're not in vain,

Tell them all we miss them,

None do we blame,

The dark whispers are finally crushed to dusty rust,

Only the light shines now about your beauty,

thru Him infinitely to us it binds,

High above the planes of your genius fame,

I will see you up there in due time...

For now I must maneuver up, down, and all around those loosely tethered vines,

Precious girl I hear your boundless heavenly crowned sounds,

Like some immaculate subwoofers that vibrate our earth's ground,

Finally you can cling to his White Bearded Dream!

'China White' Faucets-(poem from this present day)

Cannonball Express,

Diluted drained distress,

Feathers quilt my down time,

Reindeer games... I don't play them,

but Emu names... I can claim them,

Ruffled chocolate,

Buttery options,

Truffles dispense chocolate,

and Milk from 'China White' faucets!

THIS MONKEYS UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL

The drive was at least twenty minutes from the business highway, and their house could not be found in any of the typical suburban areas that surrounded most of the town. Out into the country we drove, thru pavement carved hills, winding amongst dry mesquites and sage brush, arriving on a chunk of clayish orange-fiery red, rugged piece of real estate. Ronnie was around ten years older than Karen. He was now retired and had done very well for himself. Educated with a civil engineering degree he had started a company twenty years prior, and had just recently sold it for a healthy amount. I am assuming he had gotten at least five million for his twenty years of stress and effort. I really don't know if that figure is correct, who knows? It could of been twenty million because five million is really not as much as it once was. Being in California any number could be under-estimated. I rarely saw Ronnie, but he apparently had no qualms about stowing a runaway at his secluded ranch house in the hills of Paso Robles. Rustin arrived around forty minutes after I had. He was very surprised to see me sitting out on the Spanish tiled patio, lounging languidly road beat like a common loiterer. Then there was that huge smile that formed on Rustin's face, it always caused me to grin in return, a small wise ass grin signifying,'yea I am a crazy bastard that just hitch-hiked across a few states.' My sad rubbered out lizards legs caused me to rise rapid without much strength to aid me. I needed a bath and I wasn't the only one aware that I was being deprived of this common luxury. A shower was initially offered by Karen, but I wanted to see Rustin arrive and watch his reaction relishing his goofy pearl pasted smile. I hadn't been able to engulf my sut and dust smothered skin anywhere except for this ice cold lake in Washington three days prior. As I waited perched patiently on the patio my brain wildly craved some drugs that might cleanse my mangled mental faculties. I had myself convinced that would guide me to effortless ease, just some weed to provide my short cut to everything.

Mrs. Karen Jenkowski Brings Brief Ease to this Monkey

The Jenkowski's were taken naturally by surprise. There I was driven to their town by various truck driving, load hauling characters. As many people have found, and as I have realized, is the gracious and welcoming attitude the majority of folks dwelling in this popular golden state of existence seem to be. It could be equated to the weird hippy-esque character one can see in the citizens of Austin. I rather enjoyed basking in their warmness, and I equally enjoy ignorantly mocking such tree huggin' commis'. I love nature but not more than I love mankind. "Fruits and nuts," a friend from San Diego once told me were the only kinds of people that reign from the West Coast(especially California). Just another one of our planet's vast stereotypes, and how fun and yet how powerful can these connotations become either negative or not. It's equated to the typifying Texans as either "Steers or Queers." Rustin's mother was so damned open minded and compassionate. She was a recovered heroin addict, and at this point I had not divulged in this intoxicant yet. If only I had heeded her warnings, but why start now, I had to likewise as almost all teenagers would, 'learn things the hard way." In this aged old thought that we either ultimately fall or gather strength from those sharp born mind-singeing, silver raw shining, self saturating experiences. Karen picked me up from my spot squatted in the parking lot, my clothe stuffed bag was used to soften the underlying heat soaked pavement. Karen had meet me one year in Tyler,TX as she accompanied her kids at Whispering Pines paying a much wanted visit to her parents, which naturally she had less frequently seen due to the geographical restraints.

"Hey there stranger, hop in," she said with this beautiful kindness she sincerly relayed thru her sweet tone, bold gestured mannerisms, and soft calm expressive dimples.
"Sure thing, thank you so much Karen. I am owe ya' more than you realize," I tried to hide any the abrasive weariness that I was feeling from to fuse with my tone.
"Isaac first off I wanted to say that you are welcome to stay as long as you'd like. We can enroll you here in school if thats what you want. I know you have some issues with drugs...," she paused for about five seconds but it seemed like an eternity as I observed her reaching deep within herself in pained recall of past memories,"Twenty years ago I was a heroin addict Isaac, if I hadn't meet Ronnie I don't believe I would be alive," Ronnie was her husband. He was at least ten years older than her, and he had taken in Karen along with Lisa and Rustin. I can't remember the exact details but I am pretty sure their natural father wasn't there as he ought to have been. "Do you feel like telling me whats going on? Are your parents abusing you?" This hit a distinct cord of guilt because ultimately I knew my parents loved me. I just didn't agree with my father's acts of hard nosed discipline, told to read proverbs as punishment and I would gain wisdom. 'Honor thy mother and father', yea right, fuck that shit I was thinking in pissed off sour resentment. Now as I look back over those days I know my dad loved me and yearned for me to become a great man, he wished I would began a path to walk daily with the Lord. I was so spiritually stifled in ridiculous intellectualism. I frequently went to my mom to complain about my father and his harsh conditioning(these were tame in relation to how his father dealt with him and his siblings,and yet I don't see much of that in my grandpa to this day), and I regret the problems I personally caused in their marriage. My Dad is so much more laid back now and I believe has gained more wisdom in the last few years than he realizes.
"No it's not like that Karen... I mean my dad is an asshole to me. They took my car that I worked my ass off to buy with my own money. I ain't being beaten, but my dad does whip me with his belt and I'm getting to old for that shit. It's embarrassing, but that has kind of stopped since it didn't hurt like it once did, the belt had lost it's effectiveness. He makes me read Proverbs now mainly and then write reports about what I got from it... I hate it," and I probably added some bullshit that painted a negative image in Karen's head bout my parents.
"Well sweetie I need to talk to Ronnie more but he is very compassionate, but here is the deal Isaac. Ronnie has cancer so we are dealing as best we can with the chemo and what not so ultimately we have to as a family keep him as our top priority during these crappy days he is experiencing."