A Psychedelic Poetry Reading in Los Angeles

Only 2 days away! Philosopher’s Stone Poetry is hosting A Psychedelic Poetry on the sidewalk in front of Vintage on Venice at the Mar Vista Art Walk this Thursday evening, September 7. We have an awesome line up, featuring 8 poets and 1 musician. We will be selling typewriters too! Come say hi between 6-10 pm to also participate in a community poem that will be read at the Art Bazaar After Party behind Grandview Fine Art Studios. It is going to be a joyfully bend-mending night and we cannot wait to hit the streets with our poets again.

Check out pspoet.org for more information about our poetry non-profit, and follow us on social media (links on website) for updates on events, contests, writing prompts and more.

♄ Nisi

A Psychedelic Poetry Reading at the Mar Vista Art Walk hosted by Philosopher's Stone Poetry | pspoets | Mar Vista, Los Angeles, California


The Preschool Poets

I donated to a Kickstarter for The Preschool Poets a couple months ago so animated short films could be made based on the children’s poetry. These words are by Omari, 4 years old, from the poem “Airplane Flying on the Lake”. I can’t wait to get the films in the mail. It is cool to see kids use their creativity and express themselves through poetry. 💜💚💙


An Evening with The Billy Joseph Duo & PSpoets

Come to Molly Malone’s in WeHo tomorrow night for poetry and music! I am one of two featured poets, reading at 8-ish.

I may have to break out the odes to drinking, in honor of Saint Patrick’s Day. Cheers!

Billy J.jpg

Inspiration: A New Page Dedicated to Influential Poets

I have created a new page dedicated to poets that have inspired me to be the person and writer I am today.

In honor of Black History Month and Langston Hughes’ birthday, I begin this page by featuring one of his poems that could not be more appropriate for the current state of politics.

The divisions we are facing in America and around the world are evident, to say the least. We think we are (or were) what our “forefathers” meant for us to be.

History (and poetry) will show you that we were not, we are not now, and seemingly, we never will be.


Fool’s Paradise

In the end it always goes like this,
symbolizing to me something sad but pure.

Another gone year left to float away.

Layers of life are specks in dusty beings
dying a little more with each skin peeled,

a rotting onion in my salad and I am eating it,
a blanket unraveling on the coldest night.


Death speaks clearly, his scythe taunts
less for reaping crops as it does for souls.

Shadows cast in 2 dimensions, now 3, 4, 5…
summer turns to autumn, winter then nothing.

Only newness to turn brown again with quietus.

Waiting is pleasure, endless sunshine steals it all
to forget seasons like quick meals in paradise.



Summer of ’16

Let us surrender to lovely weather
undressing my smile when I forget

Hold me, fly down surf-like on palms’ leaves
waves on the air to embrace you tighter

Sounds wrinkle time and crinkle in our wake
only for an instant does this occur

Pretend none of this counts and relax now
we are here to do what we want to do

Only to please ourselves for this time
use the warm rays of shining sun and all

Even flowers bare the name, it’s sacred
among us white popcorn puffs in unison

Sprinkle between the yellow sun-god-heads
a bacchanal of summer and freedom

Let us surrender it to this lonely world
exist in us for this bat of eyelash

In this moment, pretend we are here now
small blip on radar, one disastrous ant

Hold you, myself and us in waves of mind
wordless thoughts envelop us, we are stamped

Other world communication on point
senses are jet-packed, I can feel it too.


Point Dume State Beach, Malibu 2016






Fill the empty home with emerald trees
wide fields carrying birds, harboring all

Retain muggle thoughts, muggy blots at best
as they all tend to disappear with time

Piles of distraction on side of roadkill
scrape off miles away but old stains remain

Comforting as such, the yellow ones are
found filling in outlines of rectangles

Old frames with dead families now lost
at best confused about who they should be

Remember the SNES, how it
turned just like the walls, yellow in some spots

When the long chords unraveled blasting off
to Yoshi’s world, get away from there

20/20 hindsight, stayed not much longer
grew up too fast when time is so short

6 years old and staying up so late so
I could greet them after a night of bars

Those summer nights, Ohio sky dead-stop
a humid, full home breathing 2nd hand

Nicotine stains, the birds fade in due course
leaving bits of tribute where possible

Good-bye lush trees, dancing fields of feather corn
watch you disappear into sapphire waves

Cerulean sky to greet what is left
a little bit of magic to pocket

Palm trees waving no flag like yellow gold
but there are bare walls to stain here too.