TIME MACHINE POET OF THE WEEK J DILLA Born February 7, 1974 Detroit, Michigan Died February 10, 2006 (aged 32) Los Angeles, California J Dilla was a record producer & rapper who worked with the likes of A Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, Busta Rhymes, Erykah Badu, The Roots, The Pharcyde, Mos Def & […]Read More J DILLA
Tabletop salt practices. Acting like yourself, “acting”. Containment; coin the words with a grin. Soaked in smoke-lit reversals. Green, Yellow, Red… STOP YOUR BREATH This is official Project Astral poetry -Raphael Baldaya SmokeRead More REDLIFE
➖Heteronym➖ What I am… and what he wants to be Today I feel like yesterday That person felt like yesterday Myself felt like yesterday That heteronym felt like yesterday I feel like today which is yesterday This is official Project Astral poetry -Raphael Baldaya TransformationRead More Heteronym
Assange, where have you been? Maybe I should ask, where have we been? The media cannot help themselves, they are an onslaught of misdirection surrounded by the ignorance of honesty during the time when we could use it the most. You are not alone. You are not confined by the definition of confinement. YOUR ARE […]Read More Assange is free
Basically, I found myself without being myself. Here’s a poetic summary, from a passage of my upcoming novel Red Eyes See Red Stars. I always had a particular reason for my questionable actions. I would imagine twisting in the air, specs of dust formed of memories and those memories were words, not actual images. And […]Read More Finding Myself
Shine Front porch traveler. Back door man. Moonshine still. Still a front porch traveler. Still a back door man. Still moonshine. Albert tobacco smoker. Hickory horned devil. The moon shines still. Still an Albert tobacco smoker. Still a hickory horned devil. Still, the moon shines. This is official Project Astral poetry -Raphael Baldaya ShineRead More Shine
I found a memory underneath a piece of wallpaper; it peeled into a capability of everlasting motion.
Cornerstone brow, ships clasp, stutters mountain… Lands.
Backdrop, vacant patterns.
No, the substance isn’t in that formation or the fertility of the ghouls.
Tear the cloth — induced love picked a corner to turn into a fairy tale.