The Enterview (Cemetery Rock) abridged, Spoken word version (C) 2026

 

WHERE DO I GET MY IDEAS from? I get my ideas from changing points of view. When I change points of view, I get different perspectives of why certain things happen to certain people in their life. Having these points of view, I dare implore that one can even travel across space and time; maybe even dimensions. Sometimes, I even go to graveyards and play my guitar. 

"You go to graveyards to play guitar”

Not only because graveyards are silent. One can reap things that are left behind in a graveyard.

Imagines a memory-brought by a familiar sound. And everything gets loud.  The beating of her heart was the bass. The wind carrying the sounds of cicadas, locusts, beetles, the chirping of birds become my treble.

She was stuck in a moment while the setting sun’s rays release ravaging fingers that manipulate the shadows on the tombstones. Then those fingers paint orange red, pink to grey. Then illuminate through the street's light and the fool’s glare faded to a pale green color. 

She stepped outside of herself. She saw me in a puddle, in an oak tree’s root that was above the ground.

I was playing guitar in the spot where she could not return. My melodies are added to

The Ethereal.

There was a voice…

 "I want to die." "But what does  that really mean?"

But then someone had to interfere with red, white, and blue flashing lights, a siren and an intercom speaker.

And as I quickly dismantled my tripod, and my equipment I found a ring. Encased in its circle is dried mud.

“Okay so you play guitar at a graveyard, but have no intention of hurting yourself or anyone else?”

No I just come here to reap the energies left behind. Sure, it’s a shortcut; like sometimes majick is. Got the graveyard dust. Countless grains of sand in an hourglass. Infinite like the things we thought we left behind.

Then Sergeant Lott asked me, "When was the last time you did drugs?"  He was huffing and puffing on his cigarette trying to intimidate me.

At the same time perhaps in a different place: 

Then I took the ring out of my pocket and handed it to him across the table.

 A peace came to Sergeant Lott.The wrinkles that seemed to be the stitches that kept the paper thin skin on his skull seemingly disappeared. His face got fuller. 

He couldn't hide behind fear any longer. His eyes filled with tears;-a release of those years of pain. 

He left the room with his cigarette still burning in the ashtray. I watched the smoke rise. Reminded me of when I opened that Planchette Energy outside of the secluded cemetery entrance. The sound of opening the can. That breath out of releasing things that trap you, imprison you. Precipitation released the apparition. The guidance took it's form and I followed to where I needed to be a channel."

"You should protect yourself," Sergeant Lott said when he reentered the room and handed me a Bible.

"You are free to go now."

 

 "I produced what should

be found as a hidden track

on track 1."

Did I ever tell you about the time I escaped going to jail? I escaped by Spiritual Intervention?  

Yes God IS real!

 

There I was in the back of this police car thinking to myself, "How did I get here?"  On the way to that small four cornered room; I looked out of the back window and saw three phantoms rise form the world wind hitting the inside of a triangle of two invisible fourth walls. Man drugs will take you to a place you really don’t wanna go like a possession that is similar to being in the backseat of a police car going to a place you don’t wanna go while you hear that song over the radio by the fix “One Thing Leads To Another.” Make you do things you thought you would never do.

                                   The FUTURE is just a Series of CHOICES. 

 

Earlier: 

I was outside of the cemetery gates. I opened up my energy drink "Planchette Energy." First the precipitation comes. Releasing the spirit. When the spirit is released, there is a wind that will rustle through the leaves showing you the path. Also you'll hear a strange humming. These are the signs that show you where you'll be a channel.

 In that spot I hit my drum with my foot in that special way to be in sync with her fading heart beats.

And I played my guitar to be in sync with the creatures of the night.                                       

 

                                                                But then I was interrupted

by sirens, and flashy red, white, and blue lights.

 

As I quickly dismantled my camera from the tripod, I found what appeared to be a wedding ring coming from the ancient dirt that used to be mud covered by haunted waters of that ancient flood. This was when before the nephilim and the fallen were were forced into being disembodied souls.

 

I entered into a black door way that was two lines connected at the top by half moon. Blink your eyes and sometimes. Yes sometimes you come to on another side you never expected.

Like a small room with walls that make me wonder if they were ever clean. Our words represented our energies that bounced off of the inner triangles of the four walls.

Sergeant Lott asked me what I was doing in the cemetery:

“Gave Up The Ghost.”

"What are you implying? When was the last time you used drugs and alcohol? What do you mean 'Gave Up The Ghost?' Why are you desecrating the dead?"

He lit a cigarette and I watched the smoke stand still in the air forming specters.  Perhaps giving a representation of what was left behind…

She left the house. Wasn’t there when he came back.

                                                           

At the same time

        perhaps

 in a different place: 

 

After i 

took the ring out of my pocket and handed it to him across the table; I saw that look in his eyes. A peace of Sergeant Lott went over his face. The wrinkles that seemed to be the stitches that kept the paper thin skin on his skull seemingly disappeared. His face got fuller. 

He couldn't hide behind guilt and fear any longer. His tears fell-a release of those years of pain. 

He left the room with his cigarette still burning in the ashtray. 

 Sergeant Lott reentered the room and handed me a Bible.

"You Should Protect Yourself."

"You are free to go now."

 

Do you remember  

how

 old you were when you were shown how to trace your hands?  Did it give u a sense of control?

 I do not remember how old I was when I was shown how to trace my hands. I do remember my traced hands were cut out on construction paper; then was shaped into a bird. I also remember it being so magical seeing two hands forming a bird in The Light's shadow these same two hands                                                                                       come together during prayer.             

Some time ago, more recent than childhood, I became obsessed with tracing my hands on pieces of paper. Peace of Mind Piece of Mind Mind of Peace Here. Hear.  But Somewhere else.         

      Worlds: words within words.

          Words: worlds within worlds.

                Some Time Ago...

                        Circles and Spheres.

One day an obsession came and started Tracing my hands.

Then came the day when I just decided to place my hand on the cover of that Bible. I closed my eyes. Then I inhaled slowly; thinking of all my problems/conflicts, wanting some sort of sign to ensure that I'd be okay. Next I opened the Bible, started turning pages hoping something would guide me.

                                            HELD MY BREATH.

                                            -EXHALED SLOWLY-

                                              halfway   

                                                   I 

                                              opened                                                                                                                                                      my eyes. Stopped          

                    "Breathe God In. Breathe The World Out."

                                                                         turning                                                                                                                                                                          The Pages. 

 

Perhaps that same finger that told me to be silent, pointed to those words:             

 

A Thought Comes To A Troubled Mind. 

Well, When a thought comes to any mind a synapses happens, lights up small looking trees-a new idea or even an old one.

Those in "The Anonymous" compare God to electricity. 

RE: DON'T YOU HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO THAN PLAY HEAD GAMES  WITH YOURSELF?

“Can You Believe that once I considered myself a god? I spoke words that influenced sex; that created life, and Death-People.

‘There’s a Reason God said to Not worship Idols.’ Listened to my words in their Sanctuaries: homes and cars, parties-through the radio, through television, Now the internet.

“That’s what I discovered when I opened my Bible.”

As he continued, she calmly read his file and deduced what might have influenced him.

Maybe I’m an Angel from Heaven Giving people hope through the radio waves and TellMeVision: 

A writer submitted his works to The Missouri Review. Had high hopes, like winning the lottery dreaming high hopes; like he’d be famous in under five minutes type of hopes. He’d be able to quit his day job type of hopes. He had to pay for the yearly prescription for the entry fee. Read articles out of there in hopes of not being rejected for the third year in a row. Figured if he learned to write like the other authors he’d surely meet his dignified destiny. Came across an article about how a significant percentage of people who visited Jerusalem thought they were Jesus, until they left that City of Peace.

And he thought that there’s also a significant percentage of folks that visit Clarksdale Mississippi that become convinced that he /she can become a musician. How many leave, and never pick up a guitar again?

“My Fear? And God I KNOW I’M ONE…”

The Interviewer wonders: Will you ever return to any point at all?

“Or maybe I’m an Angel kicked out of Heaven forced to roam the Earth. Well not so free really.

 -After all there is a place.

Maybe I’m a disembodied spirit that possesses this mortal. Called Los Angelos where mere Mortals are made into gods or goddesses or both-Maybe I’m all of those things-

Job 37 and 36.

An unseen entity that is carried by unrestful breaths. Perhaps in a point of view, I’m doing people a good service. For they wouldn’t have empowered themselves without my influence-Tears on cheeks and spirits in dirty water just waiting as contained in a clear reflective glass-Glass made out of sand: What’s Looking Back? A face of a broken Hearted Lover.

                                                CAN’T ESCAPE THE REFLECTION.

 

 

For people forget their lives are predictable; Easy and read what they’ve been through by the lines and cracks in their hands, and face.

There’s a reason why we close our Eyes

When                                                                                                                                                                                           We                                                                                                                                                                                  PRAY.”

All that release of emotion to the desperate.                                                                                                  We enter through the Eyes windows to a                                                                                                                                                                                                             Tainted Soul.

The parent, the sibling, the offspring; their situation different

Yet the Void is all the SAME

                                      I’m the One

                       

 I was woken up by hearing your voice at 2 in the morning-

They say, “There’s not much that goes on good at that time in the morn (mourn).

People dreaming

Should be sleeping

People scheming

Babies conceiving

Souls leaving

…and yes, some gonna wake up in Eternity-                                

RE: This is what folks are saying: 

"Definitely crazy. To make a statement that once he opened the can of Planchette Energy a ghost came out of the can and grew to bring out the fog to engulf an entire town."

"Narcissistic-he controls the weather now."

"Sounds like a helluuhhhHigh. No pun intended. I can't wait to go out and buy a case of Planchette Energy. It is legal too."

"Well if 'Holmes was struck in the center of his forehead that means that his frontal lobe was damaged-it effected his judgement. That's why he says all those outlandish things. It is destructive 'To Enable His Madness.' Not only to him-but anyone who would be foolish enough to give any of his works credibility."  

After 3 dots→

Interviewee: 

Next I will tell you how I acquired my knowledge of things in this world and other worlds.

The Rain was thick.

Was "one of those RAINS"

 

that indented

your skin. "Attitude and Outlook on Life Changed," AA topic. That Dry Cleaners is a staple of Gulfport. I was looking for my best friend; even though that person died long time ago.  Maybe there was that acquaintance that knew him or her. Maybe they could witness me, witness you, dropping off that wrinkled dress suit. So now they could know I am, you are, doing better.

So many things brought in and out of  that Dry Cleaner; or any Dry Cleaner.

Just a glimpse, another grain of sand. 

 Infinite what people see from the clothes: the pomp, the pompous, the humility, the degradation.

What is seen in the mirror; what others see in you. 

The actions influenced/ manipulated through perception. Even that feeling on your skin. The smell too. The smell of being clean/unclean.

 

Interviewer: "Please Get To The Point."

 

Interviewee: "A finger cut into my forehead." Lives thrown away. Attachments-things.

"There is no silence in This World or Any Other..."

 

Like a grain

of

sand "Eternity" ...

 ... Or 

Love, "I don't love you anymore. I can't keep this ring."

The begging pleading.

The Plans changed

 

The decisions

"The Free Will"

The FATE 

 

 

Interviewer: "Okay. Okay. So you entered into a dry cleaner in Gulfport Mississippi. You were looking for someone very important to you that wasn't there."

 

Interviewee: "I dropped off that suit. Ran back outside to my car. Opened my car door. Got in the car and haphazardly slammed the door on my head. The corner of the car door hit the middle of my forehead. Cut me pretty deep. And at the same time in the unseen world an entity touched my forehead." 

 

…”It was a finger of accusations:

“You think you know what I’ve been through! You say I let you down You did this to yourself”

An angry teenager returning home for The Holidays. Smelling of desperation: stale cigarette smoke and sour alcohol, “My life would have been better if you had bought me that car.”

Saw the overdue bills. Felt strange symptoms of a heart attack in his chest. He was sweating profusely. But he had to work anyway. Died three hours later at his construction job.

“Wish you would have been there all those years. What way should I follow now?”

“Sorry.”

Not Like, I don’t know. I’m guessing that all od the spiritual residuals were transmitted through the clothing: Difficult to say though. Was, is, will be, what they see wearing the clothes. The words that were said carried in the wind.

Are clothes that worn over and over again

“Can’t Be?” “Cleaned?”

That’s why used garments are cheaper. Yet, should be worth more.

She looked down at the child in her arms. She reminiscences of a time when she was a child. Was half the size she was now. She took her baby doll with her everywhere. She exhaled. Through the cigarette smoke, and before the cigarette smoke cleared around her infants face she thought to herself, “Finally I got one of my own.”      

 “Can You Believe that once I considered myself a god? I spoke words that influenced sex; that created life, and Death-People.

‘There’s a Reason God said to Not worship Idols.’ Listened to my words in their Sanctuaries: homes and cars, parties, even their churches-through mediums of the radio, through television, Now the internet.

I’m that unseen entity that is carried by unrestful breaths. Perhaps in a point of view, I’m doing people a good service. For they wouldn’t have empowered themselves without my influence.

 

As he continued, she calmly read his file and deduced what might have influenced him.

I’m that Angel kicked out of Heaven; free to roam the Earth. Well, not so free really.Vision: 

A writer submitted his works to The Missouri Review. Had high hopes, like winning the lottery dreaming high hopes; like he’d be famous in under five minutes type of hopes. He’d be able to quit his day job type of hopes. He had to pay for the yearly prescription for the entry fee. Read articles out of there in hopes of not being rejected for the third year in a row. Figured if he learned to write like the other authors he’d surely meet his dignified destiny. Came across an article about how a significant percentage of people who visited Jerusalem thought they were Jesus, until they left that City of Peace.

And he thought that there’s also a significant percentage of folks that visit Clarksdale Mississippi that become convinced that he /she can become a musician. How many leave, and never pick up a guitar again? 

There’s a good  reason why you should close your eyes when you pray. For                                                 We enter through the Eyes windows to a                                                                                                                                                                                                             Tainted Soul.

The parent, the sibling, the offspring; their situations are different

Yet the Void is all the SAME

 She continues to read his file.

He submitted his works to The Missouri Review. Had high hopes, like winning the lottery dreaming high hopes; like he’d be famous in under five minutes type of hopes. He’d be able to quit his day job type of hopes. He had to pay for the yearly prescription for the entry fee. Read articles out of there in hopes of not being rejected for the third year in a row. Figured if he learned to write like the other authors he’d surely meet his dignified destiny. Came across an article about how a significant percentage of people who visited Jerusalem thought they were Jesus, until they left that City of Peace.

Just like there’s a significant percentage of folks that visit Clarksdale Mississippi that become convinced that he /she can become a musician.All they have to do is make some sort of deal like Robert Johnson did. How many leave, and never pick up a guitar again? And never come back to that city again.

As it is

As it’s always

Been

BLACK and WHITE: White page looking for Black Letters. A sentence of sentences in boxes. Almost, almost very predictable.

For people forget their lives are predictable; Easy and read what they’ve been through by the lines and cracks in their hands, and face.

I WAS WOKEN UP BY HEARING YOUR VOICE AT 2 AM.

And during that short pause.

SHE’S DESIGNED TO LOOK LIKE THAT ONE THAT GOT AWAY.

She calmly looked into my eyes and said,

“I want you to know that you are safe here. To Be Yourself. It must have been very difficult on you to have seen and heard so many things."

And the tears on cheeks and Spirits In the dirty water, just waiting, contained like a jenny, in the clear reflective glass. Glass made out of sand. Sands of time. Just another grain in Eternity. Can’t escape. Can’t escape that reflection that reflection can you?

What’s look back? What’s looking back. A face of the broken hearted lover.

I’m the One. I’m the One that entered the broken hearted waiting on that telephone to ring.

And she repeated, “It must have been difficult seeing the things you saw. It’s okay to feel.”

And just as sure as air is really water. Inhales in hells.

The Arogant exhales turned into the tears . Just those tears that couldn’t put out that fire.

The words that continue to haunt.

Damn it hurts really bad to be human.

Do you remember having that dream of falling non stop? Just couldn’t stop falling.

And out of the corner of my eye I saw a being with wings falling…