To the people trying to "save the planet" with clip boards:

I might make a flier of this to hand back to these folks one day:

Dear hippy clip board holder,

I understand that you are devastated by the atrocities on planet earth. Me too. I understand that you want to make a difference. Me too. But understand that this is a feeling and context that we do not share simultaneously. While you are here collecting money for your cause, attempting to guilt trip people into donating funds, there are thousands, if not millions of folks out there right now making a difference. People will always donate money to a worthy cause. The problem with your tactic is that it is borderline entrapment. Get behind something that attracts peoples empathy, like art/music and dance. What I have always learned about life is that you have to give a little to get a little. So, when I am walking down the street and some pachoulie scented clip board holder shouts," Hey, don't you wanna save the planet?! " My inner voice says, " Hitler already tried that. It didn't work. You wanna save the planet? Go get a real job and buy some music. "

My outer voice says, " Yes, I am..."

Have a wonderful day.

Scapegoat

Every 4 years we elect a person to seek out new ways to bring us together as a nation of divided political parties.

In that 4 years we expect this person to find solutions to problems that we have been creating for hundreds of years. If not thousands.

In just 4 years we accumulate enough mistakes and burdens to pass on to the next elected CEO of this nation. To boldly blame this person for the problems we cannot solve individually.

Technology has allowed me to post this demo'd song for anyone to hear. Ironically the same technology allows us all to point our fingers at someone who voluntarily signed himself up to be our very own scapegoat...which again, ironically, points that same finger back at ourselves.

Pay no attention to the fool on the hill trying to hide his disguise

Haze and smoke behind the mirrors as the years burn red in your eyes

Pass that buck like a flame and we'll know who to blame this time

Ask that man in the hot seat sweatin' through the cracks of his mind

We got a scapegoat now, we knew he'd turn up somehow

So take your problems on down to the man with the two horned crown

We got him now...we got a scapegoat now...we got him now!

Bend right over til your back starts to break from the weight in your arms

Send your burdens to the top because they never seem to cause him harm

He was made to take a punch we just never had a hunch who he was

See him wobble back and forth at the podium of promises

We got a scapegoat now, we knew he'd turn up somehow

So take your problems on down to the man with the two horned crown

We got him now...we got a scapegoat now...we got him now!

Hold your laughter at the bank til you're sure that you're walking away

Throw your money on a steak while you talk about the good old days

Who could have guessed at the price that you're payin' for your gasoline

But you'll never have to think twice if you don't have a clue what it means

To have a scapegoat now, we knew he'd turn up somehow

So take your problems on down to the man with the two horned crown

We got him now...we got a scapegoat now...we got him now!

words and music by Musashi Lethridge

aka

your friendly cyberhood

Uncle Samurai

On My Way

From my secret hideout cabin in the sky of Rockridge, I have composed a song about the legalization of WEED. Yes, WEED. Marijuana. Pot. Hippy Hay. Herb. Grass. The natural ememy of Dupont Chemicals.

It wasn't my idea to legalize it. I just wrote a song about it.

Imagine, if you will, a person behind bars for selling weed. Then one day the warden appears in front of the cell and says," You are free..."

I just sat with a pen one day and imagined what that person would say...this is what I came up with.

You mean to tell me, kind sir

I don't belong here no more...

well if you please...open up the door, I'll be on my way

I 've been inside here so long

only to find out you're wrong

well if you please...hand me my phone and I'll be on my way

They legalized it, yeah. There aint much more to say

So if you don't mind, sir, opening the door...I'll be on my way

No one to blame here this time

My crime has been redefined

So please...if you wouldn't mind...I'll be on my way

I got a new chance somehow

and my jobs not illegal now

so please...unless you need a pound...I'll be on my way

They legalized it, yeah. There aint much more to say

So if you don't mind, sir, opening the door...I'll be on my way

There is one rule before we are done

Can't smoke under 21

That don't apply to everyone...so I'll be on my way

They legalized it, yeah. There aint much more to say

So if you don't mind, sir, opening the door...I'll be on my way

words and music by Musashi Lethridge

aka

your friendly cyberhood

Uncle Samurai

Po'tree: Gender division

When I was a kid I would walk down the street

Kickin' old cans with the shoes on my feet

I would smile at ladies just passing my way

" What a cute little boy that you are! " they would say

Back when my face seemed to light up the sky

The women would lean down and audibly sigh

I would tell them hello and they'd say hi right back

Life as a kid was a joy and a fact

I grew older and taller and things seemed to change

Women would soon start to look at me strange

And with no one to blame I would find myself walking

I'd say hello nicely but they soon stopped talking

In fact they would sometimes just cross the street boldly

or walk by and look down the sidewalk quite coldly

and I was confused for a year or two then

Adapting to how women acted towards men

All those dudes that would shout," aye yo bitch!" were my age

and I'd question their motive when I hit the stage

and the news headlines reinforced stereo typing

The rapes and the murders and kidnap hyping

The fear and the shame that we all grow up learning

the actions of many we find disconcerning

have somehow divided us there on the street

as we walk down the sidewalk with eyes on our feet

and it's more civil now as our history tells us

those ancient old conquerers happy to kill us

A barrel of apples that spoil and shame us

Have laid down the wood work that constantly frames us

Now I see women with phones in their hand

as soon as they find themselves near some strange man

That look on their face that says no one may claim them

But honestly I have no reason to blame them

This gender division that makes up the nation

Relying on alcohol for procreation

How many children are born every year

because someone got drunk and discarded the fear?

I've seen women drunk and I've seen women sober

Drunk and so willing, cold clean and sober

And please don't remind me of drunk frat boy classes

inserting things into their sleeping friends asses

Girls raised to run from the men that they see

and men must give chase to implant a life seed

And women keep talking and men blow things up

Is this fact or pure fiction in my coffee cup?

When I was kid...

your friendly Cyberhood

Uncle Samurai

Po'tree

Into your mind like an ADD virus

My pen bleeds ink deep into the papyrus

Causing reaction that flips the ignition

The gears grind with sparks and resets your cognition

Mentally challenged with fierce indignation

you sit and you think without much contemplation

a weakness inside that was bred in your mind

you are searching for souls that are easy to find

And what makes you tick? This convenient bright light?

that has trapped you like retarded moths in the night

as you dig through the dirt with no shovel in hand

just a keyboard, some codes and no realistic plans

There you are with hands clasped, laughing and smurking

your wormhole techniques are suspicious and lurking

the time you have spent has been worth your account

which I hear has been thoroughly scanned and checked out

GPS satellites fixed on position

owned by the folks who are here by condition

to listen and read every word that's omitted

judgements enhanced by the oath they've admitted

Some say my words are indeed inspiration

an act of pure balance to weigh out this nation

an act of defense to the pitiful face

who was on this page long enough now to be traced

Your friendly Cyberhood

Uncle Samurai