Visions Vol. 4 – Heat vs. Knicks

Patrick Ewing was dressed and in character as The Undertaker at Madison Square Garden’s center court logo, standing at almost 8 feet tall with the boots and the hat.

The EwingTaker gazed with entirely black eyes toward MSG’s rafters, reminiscing on the days of his youth, finding an odd sense of comfort within a familiar site: the lack of Knick’s NBA championship banners after 1973.

An unsettling breeze filled the air. The whole arena was nearly pitch black, save for the emergency exits.

A distant murmur captures The EwingTaker’s ear. The ominous whispers slowly grew louder into an unsettling garble of incoherent speech, peppered with shrieks of pain. The arena’s dark, empty seat sections began to ripple with unexplained movement.

Hundreds of undead, bloodthirsty, retired Miami Heat players began slowly emerging from the empty stands. Surrounded and outnumbered, The EwingTaker pulled two desert eagles out of his long leather coat, aiming one at the slowly approaching undead Tim Hardaway and the other at undead Alonzo Mourning. The other Heat zombies began making way for undead Dwayne Wade and undead Shaq as they hobbled toward the EwingTaker.

A young, unfamiliar voice rang out from above. “It’s our turn now, pops.”

A hail of bullets rained down from the upper seats onto the undead retired Miami Heat zombies.

The EwingTaker blankly stared in muted surprise – it was Julius Randle, unloading into the Miami zombies with an orange and black assault rifle.

The 2023 Knicks emerged around Randle, armed to the teeth and with a cyberpunk swag that had them all looking like they came straight out of a scene from The Matrix (1999). The zombies were decimated.

A maniacal, evil laugh echoed throughout Madison Square Garden.

Deep, bellowing barking and hissing sounds began to ring out through the dark arena. A pack of about a dozen snarling, gargantuan werewolves entered the upper seat sections parallel to the Matrix Knicks. The animals were as tall as the EwingTaker on their hind legs, each having a tattered, personalized 2023 Miami Heat jersey.

The Heatwolves all howled at once before charging directly at the Matrix Knicks. A nasty battle erupted.

Pat Riley appeared on the jumbotron, but he was also Emperor Palpatine at the same time.

“I suppose we’re ready for round three. What do you predict, old friend?” Emperor Rileytine taunted.

” . . . Knicks . . . in six,” The EwingTaker calmly retorted while headshotting zombies with effortless accuracy.

Emperor Rileytine laughed so hard that he started violently coughing and spat out his cigarette. He lit another one while catching his breath and wiping the ash off of his $100,000 suit.

The battle rages on.



My mind is always spinning.

I’m a fuckin’ whirlwind.

The curved air rolls with the force and speed of the images produced within my consciousness,

Third eye, dizzy –

Hitting all corners at least twice before realizing I’ve been spinning.

A grand, rotating revolution, spinning is the problem – and spinning is the solution!

Just endless spirals, lights of the night go round and round,

Images, viral, reaching right into my retinas as I recall the square frames

as I endlessly scroll down –










A regurgitation of recent memory, trains of thought criss-cross-crashing, flying off the rails,

airplanes flying, shooting my thoughts up high while spilling out white streaks of racing-thought chemtrails

SPINNING around, my point of view’s on ballerina style, just a Whirling Dervish,

morphing, contorting – an 18th century French poem, written in cursive – a lightly used, Hello Kitty themed furnace,

a concerned Greek chorus, singing, trying to warn us – a rebellious sect of spaghetti, bobbing and weaving away from a fork –

it’s, a natural force of the mind, subliminal– it keeps [spinning] it goes so fast, unpredictable,

Mind’s eye like a set of 24-inch Sprewell rims from 2003

a wheel within a wheel, a Mayan calendar of an experience

sPiNnNiNg I change channels in my head

From Tik-Tok clips to Cher’s greatest hits to random scenes from Eddie Murphy’s ‘Delirious’

I’m serious, just kaleido-scope into my third eye view, and see whatever comes to;

Mind you, at times its not intentional, the way it aligns, but,

nevertheless, I’m usually just a happy, little mess;

Rotating revolutions, all mixed with randomness,

Self-entertaining, that’s what my mind’s eye be like, fam;

If you catch me laughing to myself, no te apures I’m doing just fine!

I just paused on something funny I saw on my internal screens, and just had to hit re-wind. . .

Because, you see, my mind is always spinning.

I’m a fuckin’ whirlwind. – RSM

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