Unforced Errors


Unforced Errors

Self-inflicted wounds are the worst kind
when you know the hands of your attacker
will fail yet again
to handle the moment of truth,
to record the last out,
to stop that slow dribbler
coming up the first-base line;

A freight train
on the express lane
rumbling down the tracks.

Your feet staked.
You can’t make way.
Forced to stand your ground.
Frozen in looped replay
to watch the moment pass you by
when taking a knee would’ve seized it.

Never to realize
that you can’t buck the system
and its perfectly imperfect code.

© J. Manuel



The Easy Overdose Podcast (T.E.O. #13)


In a can’t miss episode, the boys Khy.Actual and J. Manuel interview Regis Lima, lead singer of No Politics rock band. Regis talks about his music influences, his love of martial arts, including jiujitsu and taekwondo. Regis talks about how the discipline he learned in martial arts transfers to the rest of his life most importantly his music. Regis also talks about the hardship of being accepted as a Brazilian Portuguese speaking front man for a hard rock band. Regis is a 5th Degree Black Belt in Taekwondo and a Brazilian JiuJitsu Purple Belt.

2 Sides – No Politics – New Single:

No Politics – Tour Dates on Reverb Nation

No Politics – Facebook Fan Page

Facebook – Tour Dates

Regis Lima Martial Arts – RLMA

The Easy Overdose Podcast (T.E.O. #12)

Ladies and Gents, we’ve hit the Dirty Dozen! Emphasis on the Dirty! This episode is the craziest so far. Please DO NOT LISTEN to it! For God’s sake don’t listen! Whatever you do don’t listen! We shout-out and pay homage to Hugh Hefner and Playboy, plus Chayanne has a chub for Playgirl! (Okay only a half-chub.) First Amendment & Freedom! Puerto Rico representing in the banana department or shrimp cocktails when it’s cold outside. Again don’t listen to this for the love of God! You won’t be able to unhear it! As always we’ve got our eyes and ears out for Level-Up Army recruits.



Victory descends onto the sun set bow of my warworn ship,

bringing the night’s comfort

On her feathered, rocky wings.

And says of a battle in which she has taken no part,

“You’ve won.”


Weary, I kneel on the deck

below her pedestal;

My legs greaved;

My arms braced;

My chest cuirass-constricted;

My fingers gnarly-wrapped around my failing spear.


“I am yours,” she says,

And she gives herself to me as a harlot would,

But I cannot pay her price.

Unarmed, she invites me to lay down my arms,

amid peaceful promises,

And yet I hold my shield.


“Peace,” she whispers hotly into my ear,

As she caresses my body with one hand,

while the other draws along my spear.

“Let your vestments fall away,

and I will take you to Elysium.”


The moon, now overhead,

Beams brightly upon my shield,

Lighting its fading inscription:

Till the light of day.


I rise before the headless goddess,

And she takes flight.

The helmsman points the bow toward the dawning sun,

And I stand infirm upon the deck,

readying to stay the hands of fleeting victory.


© J. Manuel