Oh! Sweet Nuthin’

Say a word for Jimmy Brown
He ain’t got nothing at all
Not a shirt right off his back
He ain’t got nothing at all
And say a word for Ginger Brown
Walks with his head down to the ground
They took the shoes right off his feet
And threw the poor boy right out in the street

And this is what he said
Oh sweet nuthin’
She ain’t got nothing at all
Oh sweet nuthin’
She ain’t got nothing at all
(Lou Reed)


The independent and learned society is truly the manifestation of cognitive absurdity wrapped into the fecal intersection of life and emotional dysfunction.

Sweet nothing: this is what we’ve got. But I’ll give it a shot because that is the only option, right?


Winding through the corridors of manipulation and hyperbole can be quite the tiring journey. As I contemplate and sit in the puddles of the vomit spewing from the heads of the State that I call my own, I have the epiphany of a freedom of inconsequential meanings. Through the varying layers of confusion and psychosis, I stumble about these corridors blindly yet acutely aware of my impending collapse and re-birth into the womb of consciousness.

Gaining professional experience after completing my dissertation on Urban Pharmacology, I walked and strolled about the streets in a state of self-identifying and self-ameliorating dissonance; the white boy in the world of the dark forces of Americana laid out on the dirty streets where the poor man drinks from the cup of dreams and promises that have yet to be fulfilled.

The swaying minds of my subconscious archetypes of personality often made mere existence a bit of a daily struggle. The dope and booze playing their sordid tricks on perception and reality. The hope of escaping this myopic construct through any sort of self-initiated instrument of enlightenment would be the goal, yet highly unattainable as the hallowed pathways of neuro-transmission proved to be quite impenetrable to reason and logic.

Wonderboy is what they once called me.

Finding refuge and acceptance is quite essential for the Urban Pharmacologist as this affords more opportunities for deceit and manipulation. Taking the pitiful stances of always being coy and self-assured while ultimately weak and strained from hatred is a twisted world of pain and actualization all in one. But escaping said pain was never quite reachable.

Skating along the well-tread paths of desert highways on booze, weed and crack, the young hero ventured through the winding roads of destruction and chaos while achieving the peace and serenity often sequestered by the merely mortal. Taking the mountain by subtle strategy would be the plan of the moment. A well thought and laid out plan of attack would bring temporary closure and exodus from being until the new strategies arrived at the molecular doorsteps.

Wonderboy made his bed in the soiled sheets of subsidized reverie; being the sort of mess that comes from other spewing body holes rather than the cum of what is left in the tattered dick of wonder and dismay.

Softly pounding away on trash with less than an adequate number of teeth would bring short and distressed relief from the profound requirements that Urban Pharmacology demanded. Laying low and in the shadows is a tough skill set to master in any sort of meaningful way, but is necessary to achieve the bliss bestowed on those fortunate enough to seek and find its glory.

As we take that plunge from grace, we never quite make it back to the path of the righteous. We never fully become an actual part of the living world. The walking dead is what the Wonderboys of the world truly are, yet that might apply to many more souls and faces.

When our pages are ripped from our books that make up our cogent existence, they can be re-written and over and over, but the first draft of our life still remains no matter the amount of re-writes we attempt to make.


Power And Glory

I saw a man put a red hot needle through his eye
turn into a crow and fly through the trees
swalow hot coals and breathe out flames
and I wanted this to happen to me
We saw th emoon vanish into his pocket
We saw the stars disappear from sight
We saw him walk across water into the sun
while bathed in eternal light
(Lou Reed)