“La Vida En La Cabeza”
Birds wing and children sing in an early Spring,
but I got the rainy day blues.
Life’s broadcasters are the weather forecasters of
disasters.
Life’s lines ain’t straight.
When my lines meet, it’s called love.
When these lines don’t meet, life looses.
I can’t make up the world’s mind about life in it’s
insanity.
I was afflicted with a slight case of dyslexia in
the third grade. It
made the world upside-down and all of the rest of my family saw right-side up,
making me think they were down in hell looking up at me in heaven. I started hanging around weird friends
and ran away to San Francisco to write poetry, play music, and make love. I became an author of dead beat’s
poetry and joined the dead beat’s poetry society. I am a bubblegum-rapping, hand-clapping, window-tapping,
finger-snapping, dog-dreaming happening.
A member of the null set’s swingers.
J. Billet’s
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