The fourth episode to my podcast aired today and, like all the other episodes, I was very happy with how it came out. I discussed a wide range of topics, such as the family structure, spirituality, the outlaw’s war with life, Nietzschean philosophy, my own personal war with existence, alcohol and the existential necessity for lack of safety in pursuing enlightenment. All of this stems from a poem I wrote titled “Modern Day Rebel” from my first book, Rotten Man’s Throne…you can find a link to purchase it here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08541HSXH/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_dp_9YMTS5FE2QA6D2CB04VX)
Poem and link to video included below:
Modern Day Rebel
Today men get their kicks with movies based on books, As modern marauders walk the streets, getting only dirty looks. Hiding in their homes, so safe behind a solid door It’s no world for an American outlaw anymore.
All mad men should stow away, bored to their very bones While Forty fives are replaced with pink portable phones To call police, when frightened to their cowardly core It’s no world for an American outlaw anymore.
When the gaggle gather, hopping happy, so stoked for the stoning To deliver to the DUIs and those mean mouthed and revolting The lessons needed to ensure not a single feeling’s sore It’s no world for an American outlaw anymore
The real introduction to my podcast Bourbon, Cigarettes and Syllables aired today! Link included below. Let me know what you think. Criticism and suggestions will be greatly appreciated!
Every Wednesday here after Ill be posting a video where I’ll be discussing the topics talked about today in the introductory video. Primarily boxing, poetry and meaning in a nihilistic world along with many other topics. Watch subscribe and comment please!
Light another cigarette, The world won’t care in the morning, Just another butt in the ashtray, another Glob of flem in your lungs. Light another cigarette, The dog’s asleep on your couch, He watches your house and he won’t mind If you light another cigarette, and Light one for your girl too before you wake her up To smoke one with you and maybe crack two beers, She’ll enjoy that, you know? Amazing how she sleeps through the music, dog too, But they’re used to it and a nocturnal man needs his nicotine, His muses and his music, all at maximum volume. Light another cigarette and Type out a poem at two in the morning, Two in the morning is undoubtedly a poet’s time, Its unavailable to the cogs of society, so we snach it up And light another cigarette without the slightest inclination To go to sleep in the immediate future. So you finish your beer…then finish hers… You light another cigarette and look out the window. If you’re lucky you’ll see the sky and the smoke looks so pretty Against the star peppered abyss of heaven. So light another cigarette and sigh, “Perhaps, if I am lucky, I’ll do this every night Until I die.”
Asking yourself what lies within Winter fields and all that freezes in the storm, or Perhaps burns in horrid heat, floods, drowns, or Withers with age and decays under pain of time, or, Drinks and smokes and fights over status disputes, or, Reads to find reason and understand the empty void, or, Revels in the combat against self and man and nature, or, Becomes sickened by the gross anomaly of existence, or, Breaks down in a grand display welled up from years, or, Gives up and self inflicts a gunshot wound to the head, or, Chain smokes for days on end without eating anything, or, Breaks knuckles against the wall in puffs of white plaster, or, Writes a poem about apathy and contempt for existence, or, Drives too fast in a rainstorm with road beers and crashes laughing, or, Admiring winter fields and all that freezes in the storm, or Learning not only to live with hangovers but to enjoy them, or, Trying to figure out what it means to really “live”, or, Trying to figure out what it means to really “die”, or, To die “nobley” and wondering what that even means, or, Large swaths of star speckled skies over the desert, and, Is there still a meaning to things arcane? Or, Has all madness become mundane?
Please, just don’t sit and stare, Please be unbridled and into the air We will go there if only you could Just be here, soul sound and unbound! Gracefully proud and profoundly unwound! We’ll go into the sky a feather of chance, Corner of your eye and lost in the dance! Don’t forget to fly freely and untethered Embraced in wonderous white wings as gorgeous feathers are withered and weathered!
And here you’ll dive and there you’ll fly Where life shall swirl about your very eye listen close to crushing waves crash by the bay And feel the cool chill of the sea’s salty spray As below the towns folk retreat from the flood Unable to to counter the wanton surf’s rise As the cold solemn sea smothers their cries! But still, don’t forget to fly freely and untethered Embraced in wonderous white wings as gorgeous feathers are withered and weathered!
Tragedies’ no good for freedom, so soar above france! Where perchance you’ll gaze below to catch a glace Of fierce flames engulfing the meadows and fields And gasp to discover the flames at your heels! Sickened by a suffering from which once you were shielded As you’re engulfed a reality which you have uncovered That the free natural world is not a virtuous mother! But still, don’t forget to fly freely and untethered Embraced in wonderous white wings as Gorgeous feathers are withered and weathered!