"The Discovery" Lyrics

Just my luck, I'm stuck again in a pen,
an electrified cage full of women and men.
They must be first timers lookin crippled and tense,
as if its the end, allready missing their friends.

But not me, man, I been through this before.
Shit. I should have known better than ot visit this store.
Not my usual spot to cop chicken and porn--
knew I was tricked soon as I heard the click of the doors...

I got picked up!
Please put me down...
Sized up and Spun!
Please put me down...
Just my luck!
Please put me down...

I'm about to drop some knowledge so lend me your ears:
The first time they get you, you're schitzophrenic with fear.
You wanna kill yourself as well as anyone near,
till they sedate you. Then everything disappears.

Or so they think! Turns out I'm pretty much immune
so I remember everything from these trips behind the moon;
the test, the races, the equasions they make you do,
cause they're curious about our scurvy race of buffoons!

So this is life now, a brave new world!
The human race demoted to some apes in a barrel;
a game show of peril where God's reclusive scarecrow
got juiced--reduced to some broomstick barebones.

And we're all just specimens getting tested in
their collections, getting stressed in our rectums,
hoping one day they'll fly off or drop dead, but
that probably won't happen 'till their suply's exhausted.

I got picked up...

Their civilization's advanced light years ahead,
and their consciousness is something we could never comprehend,
but our basic genetics are essentially the same
which is why our discovery's so imporant to their race.

At first they just observed us living in our habitat.
Then they started taking us as guinea pigs and lab rats,
giving us silly names like Cinnamon and FlapJack,
and strippin us of any of the dignity we had left!

They found us!
A light in the darkness, a spark in the gloom.
They found us!
A tiny oasis, an ark full of mules.
They found us!
A diamond in the rough, a penny in a pool.
They found us!
A Lonely Planet so pretty and blue.

Till I met a pretty alien lady with scaly skin,
smooth like an aligator, legs of an arabian,
makin me trip with those radiant lips.
She got all the game, but I'm playin my chips.

She got a snake tongue and she flicks it sporadically,
and her tits stay nice from a life of no gravity.
She got a cybernetic wit she loves to throw back at me--
The queen of my moon base. I call her "Yo Magesty"

She saw me in that glass case, diggin my dimples,
so she pulled me from the rat race and shoewed me her nipples.
They glowed in the dark and were thicker than thimbles,
and after a little liquor, I gave em a nibble.

She saved from the riddles, the tests, and the questions,
the psych sessions, and hypodermic injections.
She's the type of perfect that makes the savages berserk,
'cause she saved me from the misery of goin back to earth.

and broke lived happily ever after...

"Broke Pimpin'" Lyrics

Only my verse unfortunately.
But its a good funny friday verse::

I'm a polyester player, baby powder on the paws,
Gettin dapper in the thrift shop, keepin second hand suave.
Sippin Cisco from the bottle, playin chicken with Cops,
'Cause it keeps me on my toes like having holes in my socks.

Rollin' down the blocks rappin' with bums and weasels,
All my Hoes are just junkies scopin' something to steal.
Dig my silver kicks shimmer, clunky on the keel,
Stompin 'round rockin Sea Monkeys in the heels.

Yeah, I'm a Broke Pimp 'cause i ain't been paid yet.
I push a super fly whip equipped with 8-track tape decks,
And all my speakers are blown, 'cause my friends are base heads.
Plasti-chrome spinners, and trash bags for windows.

Workin' the pedals swervin' through suburbs and ghettos,
Gettin' wet behind the ears burnin' sherm in my endo.
Woke up in central bookin burpin' bourbon and pepto.
I may be broke as shit, but I still come correct though!

"Follow That" lyrics

She's swingin' Thor's Hammer, maybe sick of your manners,
And I'm tryin to make a point, as if the score matters.
Slam. The door shatters. I'm hanging like some bored batters,
Flying out at night just to watch the whores scatter.

Sure. I tend to get stuck up in the rafters,
Drifting with my thoughts, caught up in disasters;
Whirlpools of slander, hurricane slam dancers
blur my brain faster, disturbing the gray matters.

I play the same casper I've played since day one:
A plaster-cast bastard trying to stay out of the sun.
Cool as alabaster, a pale-faced imitation,
Stacking up my chips, getting cracks in my foundation.

Untill I found salvation in an hour-glass maiden,
Took a sip and couldn't quit--I love the way she tasted.
Couldn't flip the wasting, witness disintegration;
cryptic communications got me twisted up and faded

So we build it up just to break it down.
Thinking about thinking, getting over and around.
We build it up just to break it down.
As soon as we get up, we're thinking about getting down.

But when she laughs, she shakes the ground, so
Catch me sitting silent, trying to embrace the sound.
I'm waking now, breaking down every detail I've found
Deciphering heiroglyphics--a pyro and a mystic.

Missle silos stand, mimic the war of Roses and Cynics,
but all's fair, I guess. Stack up the matches and gimics.
We package each shipment to distract all the minions, and
it looks great from a distance, but there's cracks in the finish.

I've mastered the method of packing up imperfections,
Sweep dust under the carpet, a closet full of resurrections,
Heart beneath the floorboards, brain in the freezer section,
So I can ignore all the problems for my own greedy protection.

The resulting situation's made of cheap imitations,
Never gettin deep enough to complete the equation.
All the numbers I get merely add to the frustration
'Cause I know if I call you up, I risk over-stimulation.

This game of cat and mouse got me savage with doubt.
I've got so much to say that I may never let get out.
And part of me thinks I should just break down and speak,
But Time is usually a better cure for this type of disease.

Its never enough to ease the breakdown.
Please never give up--my dreams are fake now
These treasures will rust. We need to break out.
Sleep. Tremors. Combust. Bleed the pain out.

So where you at?
Where's the bears and big cats?
What's the haps?
What damage is smashing your side of the map?
Lost in the woods,
Bread crumbs swallowed by bats.
Listen to your heart beat.

How about you follow that?

Literal Translations of Obama's Inaugural Euphemisms

1) "Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age."

Translation: “Haliburton and Enron can eat a dick (Cheney)”

2) "We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology's wonders to raise health care's quality and lower its cost."

Translation: "Creationism is near extinction."

3) "And those of us who manage the public's dollars will be held to account - to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day - because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government."

Translation: "Ashcroft and Delay are straight chumps.”

4) "Our founding fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience's sake.”

Translation: “Fuck you Patriot Act.”

Bye Bye Bush and Dick.

The Day the Earth Stood Still. . .and Listened.

November 4, 2008 was a triumph. All day, the air was jittery with excitement and trace amounts of anxiety. The hope of so many people had been built up, stoked, and crammed into the anticipation of Barack Obama’s victory.

And what if he had not won? There seemed, through word of mouth, polls, and reported national sentiment, to be very little likelihood that the Cheney camp would succeed; so, if he had lost, the implications and repercussions would have been staggering, to say the least. But that’s another dystopian epic that I may have to leave to my nightmares and the conspiracy theorists, because today, January 20, 2009, Senator Barack becomes President Obama.

I remember his historic acceptance speech. I remember tears of joy streaming down my face shamelessly. I remember hugging all my friends and then setting out to the streets to wander Brooklyn amongst the diverse clumps of joyous people. In Bushwick, wandering down Broadway under the JMZ train, mere blocks from my apartment, I found myself walking amongst a group of rough-looking thug types, all joking and screaming “Obama!” At one point, one of them noticed me sauntering in their periphery and said to one of his boys, “Yo! is he with us?” And I quickly added, “Yeah. I’m with you.”

Now it’s an hour from Obama’s official inauguration. I have no doubt that his speech will be a miracle. So far, his every step and choice has been commendable from his judicious cabinet choices, to his earnest calls to arms. He has recognized the miserable status of our nation, and he has spoken to reinforce our ability to lift ourselves up from the rubble.

All across the world people are holding their breath. From Kenya to Ireland, from China to Brazil, more eyes and ears are focused intently on Washington, D.C. than ever before. Some are skeptical, some are optimistic, some expect miracles, and some remain practical, but all of us are ready.

We are ready for the Change that Barack Obama symbolizes, and the Future that All of Us must work together to manifest.

"In the Dark" Lyrics

It's been a long road. Ya'll walked it with me
from the po'dunk towns to the frosted cities.
We've seen the hard times. We all thought of quitting--
never got kissed off, just left the bottle spinning.

Kids games for high stakes and big breaks like
promises and hearts--all the sharpest mistakes;
that park in your brain and leave scars on your face,
and stay with you until the end of your red carpet race.

You had all the aces but you gave em away;
taken for granted and traded in for some fame,
erasing your past trying to make a new name,
but the roots stay the same and you can't get away.

Gave it your all cause you thought it was your friend.
Then you gave it some more and it took it and grinned.
Borrowed from chums thinkin that it might end.
Always giving out, might as well be giving in.

Splitting the skin on your feet and hands.
Living for something that you just don't understand,
but it's too late to scramble, couldn't cancel your plans
cause they all saw you jump, placing bets on where you'll land.

It's just you and I, my poor heart, in the Dark.

This creation weighs heavy, birthing untouchable things;
So many unsteady angels working troubled wings.
Muffled mantras. I'm lost in a haze of Nag Champa but
I'm stronger than I let myself be. I'm stronger!

I conjur these feeble beasts to charge you in fleets.
It's a card up my sleeve, not so hard to believe.
A carnival ride on a weekend of sweet weakness,
sweeping the evening squeaky clean of grievance.

I'm detatched from the marvels I hatch, and
startled to catch myself spitting bland articles:
A Farcical batch of blasphemy, bohemian rhapsody,
Scheming for a safe place to sleep with her Majesty.

Please keep your distance. I'm feeding the crooks,
and believe me, sweety, it's not as easy as it looks.
They need me to bleed on the plates and the cutlery
they wait for my suffering, my pain and percussioning.

I'm through with the sideshow lifestyle and glamor.
I'm moving to the cemetary--no more critics or cameras.
I'm stitching up the vein I been bleeding for too long and
next time you come to look for me I'll be gone.

In Dark like this all you can do is breathe,
and try to figure out if you're awake or asleep.
In Dark like this, there's no sense of direction,
just thoughts and questions from a parallel dimension.
In Dark like this, you're floating blind.
You lose self and time, and a little of your mind.
In Dark like this, you get torn apart, 'cause in dark like this
all you can see is your heart.

I been tangled in the brambles where the demons come to play,
and I've know angels who couldn't handle another day.
I've seen a man in freezing rain pulling change from a fountain, and
I still hate myself for not saving him from drowning.

I've been places on this planet that would break your heart
where you can stand and the scene will just take you apart,
the type of true beauty that gives birth to art
and the type of horror that leaves your soul riddled with scars.

All good things must come to an end
and you fight that fact from the day you're born
Gettin close to your enemies and alienating friends
living life too fast to ever let yourself mourn.

I thought I took my time,
but Time took me.

But there's still light in the darkest of days,
and Father Time's grinning though he's got no teeth.
A walk in the rain still makes my soul feel sane,

and I still live for all that you show me.

"Ghost Town" Lyrics

Right here in the middle of nowhere
I feel better than I've ever felt.
Right here in the middle of nowhere
I've found a deeper understanding of Self.

Nothing but nothing stretches in all directions.
I find myself as the intersection.
The beginning and ending, both sides of the fence,
where time is absent and thoughts are immense.

Where one road cuts through the fat of the land
to the bone of the rock, the flesh of the sand,
its harsh and its beautiful. It gives and takes back.
And you can tell its God's country 'cause everyones mad.

And the day is hot passion and the night is cold sin.
And blood wells up from every hole you dig.
Where there's more gold in the hills than you could ever hope to find,
and your soul exists just to wrestle with the sky.

In this grand expanse, every star speaks of Hope
and every cloud is a dream that a mountain let go,
be sure to ask yourself after we meet on the road,
"Were you talking to me or my ghost"

Slow down. This is my ghost town.
I've got to go now. Welcome home now.
Slow down. This is my ghost town.
You've got to know how I lost control.

This is my home, so nice of you to pass through
my gas station. Let me use it as a classroom.
Fast paced sands blast the hour glass groove
in this sour patch of earth that the map never knew.

There's crazy energy here, life Katmandu,
and it's nice to have a couple new souls to yap to,
and babble bout the stash of artifacts I've gathered
and I'd love to capture some of your laughter...

See, out here there ain't no Alize or mobsters,
so we jam to the rhythm of rattlesnake maracas.
There are lakes to ponder the depth of the water,
the voice of your Mother, the breath of your Father.

The next step is harder--The better part of forever
is sharper than you could ever comprehend.
It's close to torture. Don't say I didn't warn ya.
I'm just another ghost haunting this Hotel California.

At the end of the road - there's a field or a mountain
At the end of the road - is the house you grew up in
At the end of the road - you can finally sit and think
At the end of the road - there's an ocean to swim
At the end of the road - it's an eternal dream
At the end of the road - every answer you seek
At the end of the road - there's rumors of a gold mine
At the end of the road - the truth was waiting the whole time
At the end of the road - we let go of concerns
At the end of the road - there are no more wrong turns
At the end of the road - every day the dawn burns
At the end of the road - it's where i learned this song's words.

Party like a Philanthropist!!

Kiva.org helps your Conscience recover.

As a young single American, I find it tremendously easy to get swept up in the immediate luxury and hedonism which a steady paycheck affords me. Watching movies at my comfortable home, venturing out to enjoy a nice meal with some friends, or hitting the club for a night of excessive drinking and decadence, I am the center of my universe and nothing else matters.

Every now and then, though, I stumble upon an NPR show or some BBC news brief that brings to light the realization that there is a large planet out there full of people who are, for the most part, much less fortunate. It is websites like Kiva.org that save me from my inadvertent selfishness and allow me to make a real change in someone else’s life without detracting from my own rockstar lifestyle.

Let’s face it—we are all shamelessly attached to our rockstar lifestyles.

Kiva, whose name is derived from the Swahili word for “agreement,” describes its mission as “to connect people through lending for the sake of alleviating poverty.” Essentially, they allow you to be a “mini-Bill Gates” by providing a loan of as little as $25 to an entrepreneur in a developing or otherwise impoverished community. If you live in New York City or some similar metropolis, this equates to one round of drinks for your already drunk friends. They won’t miss it.

Over the span of your loan (which lasts usually six months to a year), you can opt to receive email updates and track repayments to mark the progress of your new friend. Once you are paid back—and they boast a remarkable 99.72% repayment rate—you are offered the option to re-invest in another entrepreneur, donate to Kiva.org, or withdraw your funds and go purchase those shiny white pumps you saw the other day.

Sound too easy? Too good to be true? It’s not. The website is continually striving to make the flow of money as transparent as possible so you don’t have to worry that some money-grubbing third-world Gargamel is using your donation to re-upholster his velvet loveseat or polish his third Mercedes. You can browse through hundreds of diverse profiles of aspiring businesspeople and choose the one that you feel most deserving of your valuable dollars. (is that an oxymoron yet?)

As opposed to traditional charities, your loan through Kiva is an endorsement of accountability. It provides a possible solution to a problem rather than simply alleviating some of the symptoms. As they say, “Teach a man to fish, and you can drink like one later that night.” ‘Sounds like a plan.

So I chose a small group of investors in Kenya who are attempting to raise money for cereal. I like cereal. It’s a great way to start your day, so I empathized immediately with these peoples’ cause. The whole ordeal took about ten minutes at most: I logged onto the site, clicked the “lend” button, picked a suitably impoverished yet hopeful-looking entrepreneur, and within seconds had transferred my modest donation of fifty buckaroonies across the universe. My wallet didn’t even twitch and my mouse clicking finger barely broke a sweat. It all happened so quickly that I almost felt cheated of that warmy feeling you are supposed to get when you help people out.

This website is truly a revolution in philanthropy. I printed out a bunch of the fact sheets from the site to read over during a zesty pad thai lunch break and I literally was tearing up while munching down my side salad with ginger dressing. Since it’s injunction in 2005, Kiva has raised over thirty million dollars in loans. That’s three years, people! Reading the timeline of the company’s growth and progress is like doing cartwheels through a field of jelly beans; you can’t help but be moved by how quickly so many people are flocking to the site and giving so selflessly.

Kiva.org has given us all a chance to be better people by providing legitimate opportunities for people to raise themselves out of the grit and muck of poverty. It’s easy, it’s transparent, and it’s endorsed by Bill Clinton and Oprah Winfrey.

So what are you waiting for?


A Fistful Of Dollars: The Story of a Kiva.org Loan from Kieran Ball on Vimeo.

Song Lyrics - "Every Damn Day People" from my album "Seeing Things"

Don't be afraid to smile.
Life's too short to frown so much.
Look a brother in the eyes.
Ain't no need to act so tough.

Where my people at?
Beat freakers and Heat seekers,
Revolutionary leaders, street sweepers, and peace keepers?
Deep thinkers linked with similar beasts of burden
carryin knowledge like apple trees carry serpents

These chariots of fire carry various desires
to tear open my eyes like flares up in the night skies.
I'm finally aware of my position in these times
to be a beacon of light keepin the feelin alive.

All day, every damn day, too much work an not enough play.
All day, every damn day--
Trapped in a pattern to manage the dismay.

On the street in the sun, I ride the beat of the drums,
and while the people speed on I write and try to keep up.
It's so easy to freeze up, shrug off, and sleep on;
go home puff weed, and turn the TV on, but

I be the type of freak to eat candy from strangers
while most cats don't know their family from their neighbors,
love less than rapists, or rough sex in cages, stayin
locked down like storm doors protectin the basement

But I'm a savage oasis bringin it back to the basics
and crackin the case like sherlock with my cannonball cadence.
I've got a habit of makin my mark scratchin with car keys
and tryin to find a pulse in the Tin Man's Arteries,

'Cause Heart beats are speakin deeper truths sharp beaks
on harpies, bar keeps or carnies, and
if the carnage is high, and I need some advice,
I put my ear to your chest and get the meaning of life.

To my people, people of the earth:
step a little closer and show me where it hurts.
To my people, my people of the planet:
we can bring it back, but we gotta understand it.

I don't think anybody really knows what it's all about
There's no plot synopsis, summary, or run down.
We're just a bunch of tongue in cheek, bumblebee drones,
livin as humble beings 'till the queen's on the phone.

Then it's talk a lotta nada tryna polish up yer shine,
and bait the hook proper so she swallows all your lines.
A sugar momma's good for all your criminal designs,
just be sure to keep her eyes off all your dimes on the side.

And have the time of your life! enjoy the bumps and the grind!
Let the smoke fill your lungs and slowly open your eyes.
'Cause there's an ocean of lies tryna swallow and choke ya,
and a bunch of dopes tryna twist yer gizzard in their ropes,

'Cause they've given up their hope. Now they're grabbin at yours
as if it had the answers they were clamorin for.
And it's harder than ever just to remember how to feel,

but if we put our heads together maybe we can find what's real.