I remember being one of the strange metal heads in Middle School our Music Teacher, Miss Perry, used to have what she called “listening lessons”, where once a week we could bring in a cassette and play one song for the class to hear and everyone would try to name the song. I brought in The Unofficial Greatest Hits cassette “We sold our souls for rock and roll” and played Iron Man, figuring everyone knew that song. To my astonishment nobody in my class had ever heard Iron Man or Black Sabbath.

      As my teenage years progressed I grew more enamored with Black Sabbath and Ozzy. I purchased every cassette I could. I think the first Ozzy CD I actually bought was speak of the devil. I remember there was a little music store by my house, and at the time you could get bootleg CDs. The two bands I was always buying bootleg cd’s of were NIN and Black Sabbath/Ozzy. I acquired quite a few. I was a bit sad because I never thought I’d get to see the original lineup of Sabbath but I was hopeful I would get to see Ozzy. And in 1995, it was either my second or third concert, I actually accomplished that. My brother in arms Kris and I decided we’re going to go see Ozzy in Boston. To get tickets I had to borrow my grandmother’s credit card, I gave her the cash and we bought the tickets all was good. However I found out that since the tickets were will call we had to bring the credit card with us. My grandmother wasn’t having any of that. I was so bummed, I begged and pleaded but she wouldn’t fold. At that point we decided to try and get another set of tickets to the show, but to no avail it was sold out. I was devastated, my first chance to see Ozzy, the retirement sucks tour, squashed. Then the day of the concert my grandmother relented and she let us take her credit card with us so that we could present it and get our tickets. Now mind you she decided this about six hours before the show so we had to get all our shit together and drive from Maine to Boston. I remember my friend Kris was driving about 95 down the highway the whole way so he wouldn’t miss the show. We got there, managed to get our tickets and take our seats and about five minutes later the Ozzman stepped on stage. It was glorious! I was so happy, and the energy was so vibrant and raw, and to me so very new. I actually got a few pictures from the show, and one of the things that makes me laugh even to this day, is how many bras that Ozzy had on his mic stand. Chicks were just taking their bras off left and right, and throwing them on stage, that was the first time I saw live boobs on the big screen lol. Damn, that’s charisma!

Two years later 1997 I went to Ozzfest. The local radio station WTOS was selling bus tickets to the event. It was amazing we got on the bus from Portland Maine at 7 AM and drove down to Boston. Now we had this driver his name was Art Black but we ended up calling him Black Art considering that the headliner of Ozzfest was Black Sabbath (minus Bill Ward).

      I remember when we got on the bus, and got settled, he said in a foreboding tone “look I got a cell phone and I know how to use it, so no bullshit. But I can’t see what goes on in the bathroom”. The first hour of the drive down was pretty tame people just chilling then this long line to the bathroom started forming because everyone was going in there to smoke weed. About halfway to the venue, the line went from people going to the bathroom to smoke weed to people needing to piss; because we were all drinking so much (at 8 AM). At one point my friend Dan looked at me and said “dude I’m not waiting to go in the bathroom the smoke this joint” (he had some really good homegrown Maine green bud). So I got up on the seat popped the little air vent in the ceiling and said “light it up dude”, after that nobody gave a fuck and everyone was lighting joints. By that point, Black Art was just like whatever. Then one of the DJs, this gorgeous woman named Jen Wilde was walking up and down the aisle with shots of tequila which by the way was what I was drinking and and offered us some. She smelled that we was like damn that smells pretty good she sat on my friend Dan slap and smoked a couple hits with us. The last hour of the trip was a blur but we got to the venue I remember that there was this guy on the bus who was so bummed out because he got there last-minute and the bus driver made them put is cooler under the truck as it was big. As soon as we got to the venue he went to break his cool route and crack a beer and the cops were waiting there they knocked the bottle out of his hand and told them if they caught any of us drinking they’d arrest us. They were pretty strict that first year. Luckily we were pretty wasted already. We went into the venue and I remember losing my friend Dan as he wandered off. I laid on the one for a while listening to the first couple of bands I remember the first one was power man 5000 eventually we caught up with Dan and he had his face painted like Peter Chris from kiss it was hilarious. So fast-forward to Ozzy’s set, it was amazing. Then after a small set break Sabbath came out, I was in ecstasy, when they played children of the grave I totally lost my shit. The whole day and night was pure magic I will never forget that day. That was my first of many years at Ozzfest.

      I continued to go to Ozzfest every year from 97 to 2007. There were times when I wasn’t sure how I was gonna get the money but I always manage to grab a ticket. I remember one year in particular I just lost my job and I took my last paycheck to buy two Ozzfest tickets for me and my girlfriend not even caring about the bills or any of that adult stuff. One year I actually went to Ozzfest alone. It was very strange I’d never been to a concert alone before but it was still amazing I remember sneaking down front for Ozzy’s set, and getting gloriously sprayed by the sprinklers I was so hot that day.

      My friend and I devised this ingenious system where we would scan our tickets and then open them up in Photoshop and edit our seat numbers so we could get down front. We actually got pretty creative with it would get the exact same stock paper as the tickets were printed on we would razor off the holographic bar and glue them onto our fake tickets using those to get down front and then find an empty seat if somebody came we best move to another one we actually did that for years it was awesome.

      Now for anyone hasn’t been to Ozzfest you have to understand it’s the whole experience. I would plan our navigation so that we could sit out in the back parking lot by the second stage party all day, watching all the 2nd stage bands and then go in for the main stage. It’s so amazing to spend a day like that with friends, and often times you make many more new friends while you’re there. One year I bought a couple of cases a Corona and some limes at Sam’s Club and sold them for three dollars a piece in the parking lot I ran out in less than an hour lol. Another year all of us but one person went in and then we had our friend stay out and throw over a backpack with booze and beer and it. Another year my girlfriend and I went in and we had a bunch of booze and beer in my backpack, it was pretty stupid and I didn’t expect to get through but the security guy at the gate just looked at me smiled and said “have a good time”.

Another thing that people might not realize if they’ve never been to metal shows is the camaraderie. I can remember more than once getting in the mosh pit in my drunk ass falling over. As soon as I hit the ground there was a hand there to pick me up. That’s what metal is about brotherhood. One of my favorite parts of Ozzie set, is before he took the stage he would play videos, of of pop-culture stuff movies TV shows etc. and he would edit himself into the and do the funniest shipped. I always said that if Ozzy wasn’t doing music he could be a comedia, he was genuinely funny. As a side note I really hope those videos get released someday, they are comedy gold. I actually have VHS cassette from the first year of Ozzfest when he did that but he ended up doing it every tour and it was hilarious.

      Though I wasn’t a huge fan of the Osbournes, because I thought it portrayed Ozzy in a bumbling, negative light. I will admit there were definitely some funny moments in the show though. Again Ozzy was the Eternal Cosmic Jester.

      Fast-forward to 1999, I remember getting the news that Black Sabbath was doing a reunion. Through some unfortunate circumstances I missed the tower records meet and greet and record signing I was very upset. However I learned that the original full lineup of Black Sabbath was going to headline Ozzfest. I knew that I must see the show at all costs and of course I did. Words cannot describe the ecstasy, enchantment, and joy I felt when those four men took the stage. I rocked harder than I ever had or have. I remember getting out of my seat and just thrashing and dancing in the aisles, even though I had been told several times by security to get back in my seat I just didn’t give a fuck. It was truly one of the greatest experiences of my life. I went home feeling completely drained and rejuvenated all at the same time. I got to see my favorite band in the world, which I never thought would happen. I thanked God it, was such an amazing time. And I’m grateful I got to share some of my greatest friends.

      Another amazing show I went to was in 2001. It was originally called the Black Christmas tour but after the events of 9/11, respectfully Ozzy and company renamed it the Merry Mayhem tour. A few of us had tickets and I remember my friend Michelle was with us and didn’t, I convinced her to come with us and by sheer force of will we found a ticket in the parking lot though it was not anywhere near our seats. But I kept sneaking her down to our seats and letting her stand in front of me even though the security guards hassled us many times. It was great to because she snuck a bunch of liquor nips and joints in her cleavage God bless her lol. The energy for that show was…..different, but it was still vibrant. the country was in a very dark place at that time and I think Ozzy and crew were trying to uplift us, and I will say they did so very well.
I continued to go to Ozzfest every year (for 10 years) and see every solo Ozzy show that I could. I think in total I’ve seen Ozzy 13 times and the original Black Sabbath four times. I still have all the T-shirts from every show.

      I’ve been to many concerts in my life but I’ve got to tell you that the energy that Ozzy brings to the stage is unlike any experience you will ever have. I am eternally grateful for every moment that I experienced, it was truly magical. Ozzy was an example to all of us, a rough and tough street kid who rose from poor humble beginnings to become a rock legend. He was very human and fragile. From his struggles with drugs and alcohol, his feelings of inadequacy and alienation, his constant search for acceptance. He overcame it all, and in the process he loved and entertained us so thoroughly. Being at his shows, it felt like we were all his children, he was our Godfather, our Godfather of Metal. I am eternally grateful for that experience. Even though I am saddened by his departure from this material around I know that his music and his legend will live on. And so I say to you thank you Ozzy, love and respect forever.

wasted words
words like dreams
dreams that don’t last
and the last
is almost like the first
cursed and dispersed
immersed and rehearsed
to the point of a subtle outburst

cast overboard but in for the long haul
love is just a hard wired illusion
driven by an unholy biology

trinity, affinity
trending toward
a satirical and reversed infinity
baby i’m the man in black
sitting in this persistent flashback
surrounded by the soundtrack
of tired manifestation

fuck these crossed wires
and fuck this distant communication
instead let’s raise a heavy glass
cuz it’s time for whiskey
and it’s time to die again

dangerous puppet
we is i
and i is we
and we are nomads,
decadent priests of a limited shuffle
bound to creativity by cosmic glue

bored, broken, and reckless
we distill denial
and frustrated energy
into a refuge of temporary satisfaction
and there is redemption
in these malfunctioning memories
what could have been
what should have been
almost perfect
but not quite
absent of skillful reflection
we laugh at these graveyard scripts
written in the callous verse of slavery

born as nuclear peasants
we romanticize rebellion
and selfish blues
as we feast on elastic horizons

dry keys, wet life
repetitive and randomly magnificent
set in tones of majestic insanity
we grasp the throat
and whisper wandering secrets
in the heat of passion
sometimes it’s bullshit
sometimes it’s not

labored and yearning
we regret songs unsung
so let’s dispel
these crippled encounters
and fade into the hysteria
of ironic luxury

sedated and captured
like a curios criminal machine
we are tempted and unwritten
and these threads are false and fraying
as we raise a delicate sacrifice
of saddened soul and spirit
to relaxed and dying gods

hopeless flash
one more night of empty entertainment
we’re all consumers of soft stars
that hang passive and feral
on this deranged stage
of anxious moderation

one last beautiful disruption
swift in the void
and hard of heart
tempered by cold reason
we slow the pulse
and soothe this wailing mind
trying in vain to compose
weak and honest poetry
as that heavy glass slowly empties

distractions
in lieu of
positive attractions
fighting for so little
and constantly losing ground

i’m tired of all this pointless noise

the perfect balance never comes
the spirit wanes
and attention is fleeting
as we remember moments of temporary bliss
and wander aimlessly
in this perpetual abyss

i don’t mean to sound sad
it’s just that
life’s edge
has begun to dull
and the trap has taken hold

it’s not all bad though
there are always
cats and chickens
convenience store beers
unread books
cool breezes
and quiet waters
the sun still shines
and body still rises
even as the mind continues to sleep

purpose is constantly misdirected
but peace
can be found
in the simplest of actions
sipping a glass of cheap wine
or the advance
of an unanticipated kiss

the mind fucks the heart
sex and death are one in the same
but love
distant as it may be
nurtures this unfocused life
and unlimited perception is everything

don’t let THEM tell YOU how to BE
i write
because i cannot speak
but i still hear ancient songs
that echo through ghost limbs

some of us are still wild
some of us are still untamed

and i don’t believe
this flawed matrix
was ever meant to succeed
it’s a trap

but i’m an anarchist
forever the optimist
and i will always raise a middle finger
to all these flawed and failing systems
in hopes that i
will break free
and inspire the unwashed masses
to revolt
and reinvent themselves
in the true image of GOD
because in the end
daydreams are all we have

waiting in hopeless anticipation
we wander and defiantly dance
across confined puppet landscapes
too cartoonish to be real
as intelligent design is retarded
and our vital structures fade

it’s all a simulated reality
with half fed dreams
and passive wounds
entwined with persistent illusions
as furious flowers
bend against fate
but refuse to submit

laughing at life’s reconditioned narration
we sharpen the blade of unspoken faith
and write blasphemous words
with a bony appetite
singing songs of a hidden holocaust
as calm souls stir
in the eye
of an inverted and narrow storm
and we reluctantly conclude
that half-assed miracles
and moderately priced beer
can only carry us so far

slow, and almost empty
we increase the volume
of forgotten sunsets
as that distant and tragic mistress
blurs an animated heart
networked in a broken engine
of divine peace

burn that logical notebook
and question the rhythm of dangerous drums
as mystery blooms like a clockwork dream
and that comfortable madness
becomes our holy and uncertain destination
repackaged and dangling
on the membrane of random poetry
and pining for salvation

and here we are
11:27 pm
new years eve 2023
embracing the scorched routines
of another gutless year
desperately waiting
to be flushed down the toilet
of anxious expectation

unsettled and slightly littered
with moonlit novelty
and decorated lazy loneliness
we sit quietly
tortured by the laughter and chaos
of all our forgotten gods
as tragedy plays it’s social chords

it’s not all bad though
humanity hasn’t quite fully succumbed
to the extreme and inevitable decay
of social media rot
multiple personalities
and convenient living
somehow we persist
struggling along a path of
dulled passion
and shaded imagination
as we continue to labor
under all these illusions
of perpetual normalcy
and fractal, fictional freedoms

and i’m sitting here
of course with the eternal kitten
realistic,
almost content,
slightly rundown
with a bottle of moderately priced zinfandel
obviously buzzed
i’m trying to capture culture
and transform ambitious intent
into an elastic reality
i’m trying to construct
the final line
of the last great american illusion

reaching for an impossible end
one threatening grasp
at subtle sanity
extended towards
a divine and random vision
as we wait, impatiently
for a storied chance
at blue damnation or red resolution

happiness
sung reluctantly
in the key of x
as ruin and blissful complication
drag this confused soul
towards some twisted
and imperfect form
of poetic chaos

and every night
i embrace the gentle focus
of wicked light
mixed together
with demonic routines
and hopeless dreams
it’s a discordant song
filled with high notes
and low chords

and i can hear life
clawing and scraping
against a purple moon
as we write
unholy names
and sacred numbers
in the shifting sands
of decadent manifestation

anxiety and celestial noise
broadcast in a slow tempo
of nervous adventure
offering a festive revelation
of manic science

fade in
then fade away
waiting for a drunk messiah
to romanticize
all our quiet secrets

the night is tired, comforting
and terrifying
as solid and insidious hearts
are held close
against a dusty and inverted moon

and there are swift moments
of subtle rebellion and internal ecstasy
conflicted and longing
for fluid correction
and a psychic promise
of melodic transportation

correction, consecration
and corrosive calculation
drive this captured spirit
towards a random, solo
and divine dark fall
hanging in breathless suspense
for a final
and concrete judgment

silently we sit, waiting
gathering unpredictable wisdom
balanced on a secular storm
kissing a passive level of death
as culture cascades
into desperate
and majestic revelations
of honest deliberation
and the lower gods
of this solid realm
laugh at our stagnant destinations

struggling with hopeless addiction
and channeling
energies long forgotten
beer me, one more time
cuz i’m tired of these
delicate playgrounds
matrix rules
and rippled prayers
chanted in a frustrated key
of fragile sacrifice

i refuse to comply
with this
scattered blue passion
and i refuse to submit
to these
crescent sweaty souls
seeking to sever
all our ludicrous comforts
with an industrial shotgun blast
from the naked apocrypha
of yellow human heartbeats

i want a chance meeting
of random passion
tainted with disconnected
and disconcerted souls
strung together
in a dangerous patchwork
of schizophrenic enlightenment
flesh upon flesh
an elaborate touch
prophesied in a methodic ecstasy
and wrapped in creative emanations
of this fixed
and fucked up reality

vain prayers fail
as nervous shadows
shade and drive us
from one excess to the next

perhaps we should embrace
this undigested chaos
and reject our inferior fantasies
in favor of sounds without symmetry
embracing hearts shrouded in illusions
of slightly scattered sacrements

or perhaps we should just sing
leisurely songs
of poetic laws
spilled onto empty pages
of sour isolation
as quiet flowers
form a fantastic conformity
of nature’s solitary virtue

conquer the darkness
and scribble in the light
i have a triumphant
yet silent voice
a voice that seeks
an autumn marriage
to pirate metaphors
of timeless erosion
a voice that slowly scratches the surface
of a delicate and distant passion
to manifest and reclaim
tranquility and lost virtue

and in the distance
a holy man
promises to read
softs signs
along scattered lines
of sacred skin
dispelling the strangest dance
of disposable entertainment
as restless and forgotten gods
ruminate, and seek to terminate
all our rotating false realities
in favor of
a final revelation
of solid gluttony

burn in the catholic millennia
foreplay
restless screenplay
poet under a gun

my spirit wanders
along crooked lines
of desperate desire
and lingers
hopelessly
in this open wasteland
waiting to be
disintegrated and reborn

one false trip
one fast step
salted
with two words
and three songs
slowly played
into a smooth decline
of perfect symmetry

i’m too old for this game
and too drunk to remember
the technical vitality
of a nervous promise
of radiant, divine
and skinny poetry

too many wasted nights
too many naked bodies
and only the faint hint
of cruel integrity
to light the fuse
of our playful absurdity

one eye closed
and
half a heart open

i was unfairly destined
to charm a multitude
of feline souls
towards ambitious distraction
and litter the world
with the gradual hypocrisy
of hazy humanity

the roses no longer bloom
and the birds refuse to sing
humanity tried, but failed
it’s a spectacular calamity
of robotic faces
and repetitive routines
as we wander hopelessly
in this sleepy matrix

damn these dangerous deities
as i rage against this silent machine
carelessly walking down trampled paths
of scattered dreams
and filthy enlightenment

slowly i secretly try to wash away
these lagging and tired simulations
from soft and decaying flesh
under the waters of a
furious and distant moon

forgive this inhuman impulse
and forget this trans-human agenda
fuck all those “thought leaders”
and popular trends
social media breeds
an abstract disconnection

but i choose
the burning breath
of backyard nature
mysteries, kitten kisses
and sunset vibrations
it’s a photograph of
simplicity and ecstasy
as the music pulses
and smooth chickens roam
this unkempt wilderness

migrating from beer to wine to bourbon
it’s too late to contemplate (the soul)
but early enough to spectate
and dictate
accelerated prospects of love

drifting further and further away
from a purple reality
the strings want to carry me to a restless sleep
but my old black and white kitten
has come to once again dance around
my cluttered and complicated desk
it’s an old game
one that we haven’t played
in quite some time
and i’m torn between
trying to compose
meaningful nonsense
and stroking her aging soft fur

i think we all know which scenario wins

her purr is is a perfect rhythm
and her loving eyes
never fail to capture me

so now you understand
the magic of cats
as this poem went from
a tired farce of humanity
to the loving embrace
of a tiny secular beast

love always prevails

damn
this desk is unfamiliar
this keyboard is a stranger
and my screen, like my fingers
seem haunted
the spirits are flowing
my eyes are dry
and the classical music is playing
i’m somewhat sober
and i feel more at peace
so of course it’s harder to write
but write we shall
cause what else is there to do
on this dreary spring hump-day
he’s been calling me to return
and so i defiantly obey

cat claws, green jars, and stale cans
remembering a dizzy night
the old man bellows
his tainted optimism
as canned poetry howls at a hollow moon
how we laugh and cry
at the boredom
of this safe and sacred life

freedom and slavery are so closely intertwined
as i seek this elusive cloud-form of the divine
no trouble to speak of
yet i’m half dead
living peculiar patterns
and lurking in this unreal world
the 9-5 life is no life
so i struggle
to maintain sacrilegious sanity
and a dangerous purpose
as revolution and revelation
beckon me to an obscene obsession

playing the game
sex as a symbol
like a wine drop stain
on a esoteric notebook
everything and nothing is hidden
trapped in a dream
or a distorted waveform
i try to write righteous and epic tales
fighting dimensional demons daily
as i seek
alternate reality escapades
because i am a specter of the night
grounded as a surreal subject of the day
yet, the grand mushroom is calling

waiting for love(undefined)
waiting for something to happen
fuck this flat existence
fuck these grey hairs
fuck this broken communication
that fuels the rules
of insane routine
and unreal reason
hope is just around the corner
navigating false idols and fast women
i speak to many
but only a few hear
my spectral songs

and i understand
that nature comforts
but it does not forgive (our many weaknesses)
time has no meaning
and what is this rabid fucking zoo?
i feel so many indifferent emotions
as i traverse cosmic expectations
of this animal kingdom
i need rhythm
i need..release

addicted, numb and half alive
humanity persists
like a dry fungus
waiting for a dead, wet, and decadent revival
life recedes and twists upon itself
as dis-ease and simple simulations
corrupt our collective spiritual ascension
i will never submit
to this trans-humanist nightmare
i will consecrate and consent to the grand creator

(thankfully)still fucking insane
i have a remanent of hope
because these wrinkles contain wisdom
and this soul wades in the waters of alter-life
focusing on renewal
and living in opposition
to all these false gods
as i drive towards
a luminous geometry
and the gift of gratitude

i think
therefore i am
so, light another cigarette
tip the glass
and breathe
for this message
is just the beginning