Happy Thanksgiving

On this day, we celebrate the act of giving thanks to our fellow human being and show our appreciation through the noble sacrifice of the common turkey. On THIS day, no turkey is considered common. It becomes a symbol of unity in the face of adversity where times are considered dark and cruel. Where hands of different colors come together to celebrate life and death(of the noble turkey) at the same damn table. Where food becomes the second best medicine to a smile. Out of the other 364 days of the year, we sit down, break bread, laugh and enjoy each others company. On this day we celebrate friendships kindled in times of hardship and success, on this day we celebrate our families and their unconditional love and support, on this day we celebrate those who are not here in body but in spirit. But today, today is different. Today we remember the tragedies that have happened over this year. Today we remember the injustice that has befallen the families and the people this year. Today we remember the homes that will have a seat empty waiting for a child, a father, a mother, a sister, a cousin, an aunt and uncle to come home to fill... but never will. Today we remember our soldiers over seas fighting the good fight just so we can have this meal. Today we remember those who can't have a meal like this at any point and time in the year. Give thanks to what you have, give thanks to what paves the way to a better tomorrow and give thanks all 365 days of the year. Eat your fill. Drink your weight. Laugh and enjoy these fall times. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Grand Central - New edit

The Hopeless and the Damned,

Grand Central, Hell’s terminal,

Gathering of the reckless and foolish,

Social Pariah,

The burdened individual,

The mass of mules,

This is where the poor fight the homeless,

The free country,

Free to fight,

Free to suffer,

Bickering silence in politics,

The stench of policy and duty,

Fills the station full of bullshit,

The midnight pigs tend to the swine,

No one rests in Hell here,

Gatherings are held on bench and floor,

Nothing is discussed,

Disgusted by the disgusting,

And you wonder,

Where’s the food?

Where’s the peace?

Where’s the money?

Into whose pockets must I beg for?

I see more change in my Mcdonalds cup than here,

Same people,

Same faces,

Blurry shadows walking by,

Next Stop on Track 4 à Nowhere

Grand Central

The Hopeless and the Damned

Grand Central, hell’s terminal

Gathering of the reckless and foolish

Social Pariah

The burdened individual

The mass of mules

This is where the poor fight the homeless

The free country

Free to fight

Free to suffer

Bickering silence in politics

The stench of policy and duty

The midnight pigs tend to the swine

No one rests in hell here

Gatherings are held on bench and floor

Nothing is discussed

Disgusted by the disgusting

Where’s the food?

Where’s the peace?

Where’s the money?

Next Stop on Track 4 -> Nowhere

Mind Graffiti

Imprints and memories,
Tattooed moments in time,
Vibrant colors of black and white,
Shine through a prism in a spray can fashion,
Multicolored murals and testimonies,
Of loved ones lost, free spirited expression,
Of the streets and the struggle,
Vagabond art,
Thoughts from the past make you think,
"How'd that get there?",
Train of thoughts passing by,
Sitting there for a moment,
As Memories whizz past you in a blink of a railway light,
From the impossible rooftops to the burning trashcans under bridges,
Limitless art flowing in a jagged edge formation,
Fighting the laws of mental restraint,
Let it sink in,
Synapses spark messages from the index finger,
Showering concrete idea onto brick and stone,
Messages in a freestyle manner of mental parkour,
Jumping from building to building,
Reaching out to you in a visual fashion,
Tasteful to the eyes as you take a brief moment to admire,
As Minnie Mark Eckos, marking their moments in time,
As it echoes out to the urban soul,
Where we take that to the bank,
As Banksy playing the teller,
Reminds us, tells us that world is still pretty fucked up,
Dark humor, political debates and cultural struggles,
While Keith Haring keeps us grounded with his thoughts on sexuality,
As he AIDS us walking into a new era of acceptance,
As you let it settle in your mind, while you think,

A moment in time, within a blink of an eye, lost,

Forever within the subconscious of the conscious soul,

Knowing, for a moment they were fearless.

The Burning of a Rebelious Generation

Murder yourself,
Murder your health,
Murder your liver,
Because it ain't going to distill,
The liquor that kills,
Kills your lungs,
As it puts guns, down your throat,
As you swallow the smoke,
Down your lungs, cigarette caskets,
Going under in a basket,
Ashtray to ashes,
Dust to dust,
Hold her,
Closer with protection,
Mention, your body count history,
Misery, lies in a lover's mystery,
Feels to me,
A generation of nobodies,
Bodies in bags,
To riches,
Living in ditches,
Dying for the itches,
Snitches with that crooked shaped mug,
Sell drugs, cocaine, meth,
All different forms of death,
What's left?
Need a life vest for this test,
Testament of our cause,
Round of applause,
But, pause, for a moment of silence,
To the end of the violence,
End of an era,
Mirror, Mirror,
On the walls,
Where innocence falls,
Before your eyes,
Days gone by, more goodbyes,
Mirror mirror your face,
Wrinkled and old,
Cracks in the bone, slower pace,
your face, trace the lines,
Towards cultural suicide,
Sides taken, lines drawn,
We just dropped another bomb,
Another con,
Artist out for our money,
Funny how it all seems,
From murals to miracles,
I have a dream, follow the king,
Towards peace, like a new lease on life , Like Biggie,
It was all a dream,
Word up magazine, clips empty out in the streets,
Beats life out in the sand,
A war over the holy land,
War on terror,
War on drugs,
Lost a leg, lost an arm and all I got was this stupid mug,
Shot in the system,
As victims plead the fifth,
Another myth about another child missing,
Just listen and watch,
Marley and Pac,
2 Deaths, one love, one change,
The whole damn block is a shooting range,
Of needles up your own arms or from your trigger hands,
Maaaannn, where the good kids at?
.....Oh a fatherless child, a mother on crack,
Attack on government,
Attack on news,
Attack on education,
A rise of the empire of inflation,
Patient, we are when the cost of living became so high on Mary Jane,
Anything to take away the pain,
Indulge yourself with distractions,
Just take action,
But listen, I got hope for this generation,
Different place, same name, new nation.

Thank You Robin Williams

http://ashleycassaday.com/image/94557158529
ex: NOT my artwork if you want to see more of Ashley Cassaday's work follow this link from the image.^

        Growing up, Hook was one the first movies I ever saw, or more of remembered in my early stages of childhood. The word "Bangarang!" echoes back to me from my younger self sitting down in front of that stereo television, putting in the VCR tape as I watch the blue copyright warning screen and upcoming attractions. Listening to the video black tape wind and wind, with a few clicks here and there. From there I obviously saw Aladdin, Flubber and his other memorable roles growing up as a kid. Never once I ever thought that this man, this legend could ever be alone, could ever feel a pain that would drive someone to the edge. A person full of happiness and laughter. A warm smile even the camera can’t help but catch a glimmer of what he was. An energetic glow you felt through your mono/stereo sound, non flat screen television. Something about his persona, his presence kept you happy, kept you hoping, kept you feeling like the day can’t ever go bad as long as you can smile through it. As I got older I started to watch some of his more serious films, Bicentennial Man, Dead Poets Society, and Good Morning Vietnam. Even then, watching those films I felt a certain sadness and joy from relating to the characters he played. Growing up, I felt that he raised me in some way as child, to understand that sometimes a childish laughter may be the cure to our realistic angers and misunderstandings. His ability to create a certain comedic catharsis of life I believe is what made him legendary. To mold himself into different personalities while keeping his own rabble speak, fast paced energy and lovable banter made him a catalyst of what it meant to be who you are when you’re someone else. He was one of my heroes as kid, he was Peter Pan who taught me to believe and remember who i am, he was Andrew the Android who taught me to hope to become what I want to be, he was John Keating who taught me how to express my right to write with the power of words, he was Adrian Cronauer who taught me that the mornings can always be good with a little bit of music and a good morning shout, He was Genie who taught me that friendship comes in its own way, in its own right, that being who you are shouldn’t matter to a friend, poor or rich, imagination and friendship can break any shackles that bind you. Robin Williams was a huge part of my childhood and huge part of who I am. My heart broke when I heard of the news. I had felt as if I had lost a best friend. I felt a tear run down my eye when researching it. He is one of the reasons why I write, and one of the reasons of how I am personality wise. I try not to remember him as the crying clown, but as teacher who taught me that the realities of life can bring you down, but a little laughter and a smile can beat any medicine out there. I raise my glass and tip my hat in your honor. This lost boy will miss you. I'll catch you in Never land."Oh captain my captain", "I ain’t ever had a friend like you"  BANGARANG! *Crows!* R.I.P.

Thank you Robin Williams,

Thank you for being my friend.

Darkness

Turn the light off,
Its safe in here,
Turn the shadows on,
I am the fear,
Darkness falls,
Night calls,
Pitch black,
Heart attack,
Sweat, drips from the eyes, the face, the nose,
Black crows, in the back rows, take flight,
In the dead night,
Abssence of light,
Lack of sight,
Sanctity, sanctuary, I am free,
Feels good to me,
Its an adrenaline rush through my chest,
For here,
I am fearless.

Champion Memoirs

All I remember is that it started with a one, two and it ended with a bang. Drop dead silence echoes across the room. Sounds…ringing sounds. The smell of burnt leather and blood fills my nose with a taste of iron victory. My muscles tense up as beads of sweat roll off my shoulders. My right arm, stiff, knees are wobbly. Fists tighter than the Gordian knot, clenched onto what little oxygen I had left. Wrists are shot, hanging on by the skin and cloth wraps. Grounded, I melt towards the canvas, fists in the air victoriously clawing for a breath. Someone cut me loose from these ropes. It was all a blur, hazy, glossy-eyed. I feel like millions of metal balls are bouncing all over, rattling inside my head. I don’t remember a thing. All I remember is a ding, staring up at the heavenly lights as a flooded roar fills my ears, drowning out the white noise. I don’t remember a thing, but my body does. My bruised ribs memorized each hook. My melon sized eye felt out every jab. My chest fully committed to that piercing kick. My hinged jaw kissing every single one of his uppercuts. My body remembers…It remembers pulling back the trigger, it remembers letting it go. It remembers each crackle in the bone, each tear in the muscle. Shotgun pellet bruised spots riddle up and down my arms and chest, tattooed memories on my face reminding me that I should’ve kept those hands up. I should’ve rolled with each swing, kept my shoulders tight every time I shot the pistol, and pivoted my foot and hips with each swing of my cannon. It remembers the face, the expression of a deer caught in headlights, its head cocking back lifelessly onto the floor. The blood painting on the mat, a canvas in a steel cage full of animals. I carry a visceral paint brush colored red. I strike a crooked Mona Lisa smile as I grit my bloody teeth staring down the body of a 6 foot 4 giant. I felt like I just painted the sixteenth chapel all over this ring. It was telling a story of David and Goliath through our bruised knuckles and battered faces. This is what happens when you put animals in a cage, they get violent, their true colors turn red, black and blue come out. Fading in and out of consciousness I grasp tightly onto the ropes, my corner man comes and helps me up, carrying me on his shoulder back home, to my corner. Someone pours cold water over my head, a sudden euphoric high hits me like a joint of Mary Jane, it feels like a damn baptism. My corner man pulls the gloves off of my shaking hands. They feel like I got struck by lightning and grabbed the bolt by its tail mastering it and honing it into precise sharp strikes and movements. The shock of it all I look up and see my opponent sitting up on the mat just as dazed as I am, but he doesn’t look like raggedy Ann doll or a used up punching bag like myself, lucky bastard who knew he couldn’t take a counter to a glass jaw. I force myself up, I penguin my way over to him ever so slowly.  I stare down at him; he stares back daringly ready for another round. I extend my hand and smile, He smiles back and grabs mine, pulling him up, almost falling over myself. He says to me, “Great match” as he raises my fist in the air, I let out a roar loud enough to hear outside the stadium. I am a warrior; I am a gladiator of the ring.

Conspiracy

Silhouettes on the wall
It is unclear of how nuclear
The blast was, the spark, the change,
Einstein's child made him the world's greatest warrior,
Children handing in poster boards,
Manhattan projects is what I call them,
From rocks to arrows,
From bullets to bombs,
The world changed,
The world feared the world,
Russian sickles and Taliban turbans,
American eagles storming the desert,
Sky net is Microsoft,
Facebook is your customizable mugshot
On the wall of contras, activists, terrorists, priests and teachers
Future leaders of change,
Ash's on the page,
Follow the man who sold the world.

Drafted

As I handed down the ballot
I thought to myself if this is my resignation to life
To draft in my body to a coffin for the sake of Justice, Freedom and Peace,
Put my stake in as I rake in the bullet shells
Into Caskets of my fallen brothers and sisters
Bullet filled thoughts as I watch my name turn into a number
Falling down into the small wooden box to form a line
Falling in line on the front lines like a front man for a band
Just screaming my lungs out like a damn hand grenade
Trudging through trenches and ducking in and out of fox holes
I fold letters home hoping to fly safely as
22. caliber messages whizzing past my head
Whispering messages of ideals and business made elsewhere
By penguins in suits and fat gold pigs wrapped in the finest dollar
I walk by priests and sinners holding eulogies at camp
Talking about all sorts of prayers and curses
Speaking of ends and overs
Over and outs, chit chat on the Radio
As I over hear think tanks rolling thunder across no man's lands
Leaving behind thoughts of regret and how to end the war a lot quicker
Trailing behind bodies used for the foundation of an idea
I'm on more for the foundation
Of a unified house of worldly thoughts and shared goals
Just need to get our interests straight
And maybe we can walk out of here with nothing but a hand shake
And a thought of mindful peace.