Monday, March 29, 2010


thats it.
ive had it
im gonna shake it
this time for sure

i have chosen to do nothing
to let it all pass me by
to tempt the fates
to ignore that which i do not choose to understand.

i can't leave what's here
to go get out there
its disturbing at best
and the air is unclear

the past will not last
undone there is no
i'm sick to death of this awesome strut

i'm cranky and old
bitter and strange
if they only knew what went on in my head
within my heart

they'd surely understand
why i'm committed to this
shattered life
i live

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

The Floor 21 : Hipstamatic™

These photos are from The Floor, held at King-King in Hollywood on Mar 15, 2010 and taken with the Hipstamatic™ app for the iPhone
Dezmond Meeks and Walter Davis
Vakisha Coleman
Tamara Watford with Chris Hanson on congas
Asa Watkins
Dorthea Porter
Peter Grant
Gordon Bash on bass

Martin Yernazian and friends in black and white
Martin Yernazian and friends in color

The Floor 21

The 21st session of The Floor took place at the King-King in Hollywood March 15 2010.
With bassist Bjørn Fleuren
With Mallory Bradley
With guitarist Peter Grant
Below (l—r) with dancer/actress/rapper Vakisha Coleman, my friend Megan Williams and drummer Nicole Marcus.

Thanks to Walter Davis for all the support and music (That's him in the lower right with the saxophone introducing me). Extra special thanks to Carolina Cerisola and Sascha Escandon for producing this one-of-a-kind night.

Monday, March 8, 2010


maybe im touched or tapped
maybe i can't escape this one
i can't walk away
from the baddest bitch with the brightest flame.
i'm just a mere mortal
but never will we be a'thing

masculinity's a verve
that i can't quite comprehend
cuz there's something heavier than Bond
there's something nightly - sticky and virile -
that attracts - humble and stalwart
but i'm not that.

secret handshaked.
liquored up driving.
unprotected pussy.
anytime anywhere

it appears as swiftly as it dissipates
the luxury of endless sex ended my innocence.
that was the simple time -
the unbridled
the sea breezes
the mid-week mid-valley
skinny dipped summers.
exercise for fun.
don't eat junk cuz it's beneath us.
it was fresh and new.
and then it was over.

we didn't do drugs.
we didn't associate.
we were the wildest people we knew
we paid our bills
and used credit responibly
and looked sharp
and didn't scare easily
art and music and dance
was the backdrop
and we stayed out late
but always made it out of the house
before noon
to start again.

Sunday, March 7, 2010


what a vicious disease
and it drives me insane
it robs me of life
still i fear death

the absence of living
the imposed silence
drafts me a future
unfinished, undone

i'm horridly morphed and
can't remain afloat
i can't stand the prophet
but i can't stand the pain

i can't stand the hate
the judgement, the power
even those who send love
feel like enemies now

i don't understand it
and i don't know how
blow through this mist
flow down the drain

Saturday, March 6, 2010

.157 [the floor]

everybody falls in love
it's that kind of place
it's that kind of night

the fog is inside
and the smoke rises

the legs - the thighs
the breasts -
a real bucket of chicken

a token of affection
an afterthought
in the parking lot

glasses raised high
replacing religion
leaving worship

trying to get home...
trying to
beat the sun

until then
we have a few hours
so let's dance.

Friday, March 5, 2010


it's primetime
and thats nothing new
every 24 hours
it comes around again

my sense of humor lays black
my attitude becomes sanctamonius
and lots of other poly-syllabic words

Thursday, March 4, 2010


you bring out the crazy in me

you make me wanna talk back to cops
tell my father to fuck off
go to hawaii
and write a song

you make me bold
and courageous
head strong

you make me wanna be on time
call my mother
learn jiu jitsu
cuz you need to feel secure

i need to keep current
cuz you're the future
you make me wanna
get down on one knee

and repeat the past