Learical Shreiks and other Strange Giggles from th

Saturday, December 23, 2006

StacEy Frost

She burns the ice frost from the ground
She turns ice crystals into Krystal Castles
She puts Rosey onto my cheeks
She puts strength into the meek
She reminds, through the grey cold
there are sunny tomorrows
She is MY StacEy Marie
Virgin mother of hope, strength and defiance

You are the measure of my dreams

Friday, October 21, 2005


I used to know of this one angel
she used to live at 10435 Old Redwood
but now she's moved to the
speedy paranoia of a poor trailerpark
(ask about Bill's surveillance video cameras)
To see her dance
to see her move
in her velvet soft and luxuriant costume
reminds me of that I can leave my feet
leave this ground
and float with her
with the circle of serenade and waltz
And when I'm physically exhausted
exhausted of physicality
I can look into her eyes
Bluer and deeper than the vast sky
It's the ocean swirling there
with the two portholes,
full of life
to carry beyond
Deep and expansive
the swells rock me
gently and peacefully
up to the higher ground
where everything's perfect and beautiful
Her CLARIENT voice
is the magnet to pick up whatever soul remains
A mellow tearful flute melody
just for me
Yes I have seen angels
She is my angel of desire
She is my angel of delight
She is The angel of the magical moonlight

Star Light, Star Bright

Star Light, Star Bright,
First star I see tonight
Wish I may, wish I might
Have the wish I wish tonight
Jessica, an attractive seventeen year old girl, was fairly ordinary. She had waist-length
blonde hair which created a ball above her forehead. She was partial to heavy metal music, for
her brother played in a local metal group. She constantly took trips up to Los Angeles to go to
concerts featuring up and coming bands. She was known as a wanderer for she lived at different
friends' houses. She did not stay at any house for very long.
The sky was an orange-pink while the sun set. A light ocean breeze blew carrying the
sweet fragrance of summer consisting of rotting oranges and sweat. On one side of the yard,
bamboo created a wall which held a pile of wood used for burning together and upright. On
another, a small dog was jumping and barking at a silver cat on a six foot high wall. Two craggy
and half bare orange trees and a large plywood shed partially hid the cement wall. Covering a
large metal and wood gate, which, when opened, created a horrendous sound almost like
drowning horses crying for help and salvation, was a clump of Bamboo and Honeysuckle which
created a roof over the gate. A tall eucalyptus tree which was the source of falling eucalyptus
branches stood in the middle of the yard. On this tree, a six inch piece of wood remained on the
upper portion of the trunk serving as a memory of a birthday party ten years ago which held
piñata smashing.
Jessica sat on the porch during the sunset admiring the sky as if in deep thought. She
wondered if the sky is a reflection of the sea or if the sea is a reflection of the sky, is there life
after death, if she did well on her last history test, and what would happen if she went out with
Nick Adams, a fairly insignificant person in her life. While she was pondering these thoughts, the
sun went down and the wind picked up. The sky turned dark so that no given light source could
be seen. The familiar sights of the moon and the stars were absent that night. As the wind was
blowing, the wall of bamboo and the Eucalyptus tree began shaking, rocking right and left like
monsters in a horror film. The noise of the barking dog was drowned out by the sound of blowing
wind and swaying branches and leaves. Jessica, half bored and half cold, stood up, shuddered
from the cold, and went inside her home.
The wind blew Nick's hair out of its settled position while he was looking at the same sky
while on a college trip in San Francisco with his high school Junior class. He decided in his mind
that this trip was useless and wasteful in time and energy. He retracted his head from the
window, shut it, and looked inside the room.
This 200 foot wide "room" was a community dwelling for his class. The auditorium was
sometimes used for parties, speeches, and informal gatherings such as this. On one side, there
was a stage with its curtains almost closed. Though it, a piano was clearly visible. Across from
the stage was the entrance/exit door. Locked windows and stacked chairs were crunched
together on the two other sides.
It was 10:30 at night and Nick's classmates were getting ready to go to sleep. Heather
and Jill, classmates of his who were both fairly attractive, asked if the could borrow his comforter
that he brought to sleep in. He silently shrugged and then nodded. This 10 foot by 7 foot blue
blanket was very dear to him because, if folded, would make a snug, warm sleeping bag open at
two ends. Nick squeezed himself with his knees five inches from his face into a corner close to
the door. In his hands he held a flashlight and a copy of a Zane Grey novel.
About an hour had passed when everyone was asleep, except for Nick who was intently
reading his book. He was busy hearing about Jake Rockwell shoot the man in black when
someone harshly tapped him on the shoulder. It was Mr. Ramert, he who often Nick referred to
as a spiff or a prude; Mr. Ramert often harassed Nick on his appearance. He told Nick to either
go to sleep or go outside to read because he was keeping people awake. Nick gathered his
flashlight and his book and walked outside. When going outside, the door slammed shut then
clicked. Curious, he tried to open the door but discovered that it was locked. He sighed deeply
and sat down with his back resting on the building. He looked up and saw that it was a full moon
with clouds partially covering the black sky. He resumed his reading as he shuddered from cold.
Seconds minutes, maybe an hour had passed by when Nick heard the clicking of high heeled
shoes. As pushed down his hair that was being blown about by the sharp wind, he looked across
the balcony and saw a lady who was in her early twenties. She, wearing high shoes, fish net
stockings, a short miniskirt, and an imitation fur coat, was pacing back and forth nervously
continuously looking vainly through a window with its curtains drawn. Nick walked over to were
the girl was and inquired if she needed any assistance with anything. She, snapping her gum
noisily and fervently, told Nick that she had slept in the room which she was looking into with
some man the night before and she accidentally left her makeup case inside. Nick and the girl,
calling herself Buffy, discovered that there was no way into the room without shattering the
window. Nick walked back and sat down where he had left his flashlight and book and resumed
reading. He soon felt the body of Buffy sit next to him. She told him with deep sighs that she
left her "boyfriend" and now she had no place to sleep so she decided to stay the night right there
at the motel. After a while, the wind picked up and was more sharp and cold before. Buffy
complained about how cold her legs were. Nick, without thought, took off his jacket and shirt and
placed them over her legs. So there sat Nick, half naked, looking up into the sky with a lady of
the evening resting her head on his shoulder. The stars twinkled and the moon swung to the
other side and calmly set.
Nick woke up near 8:00 groggily and discovered that his new found friend had
disappeared. Nick noticed that his upper body had turned blue and purple and his armpits were
nearly frozen. He got up and tried to open the frigid metal door. It swung open and he
discovered that his classmates were up and about and finishing their breakfast. Heather and Jill
came up to the poor looking slob and confessed that they, in the middle of the night, had both
turned opposite ways and thus ripped his comforter in two. Nick ambled to his duffel bag dizzily
and scrounged around for his travel sewing kit. Although he had but the faintest idea on how to
sew, his mother decided that it would be good to carry a sewing kit just because. Upon finding
his kit he found his corner and dragged the two halves to it, collecting the fuzz that fell out
on the way. After finishing it in about an hour and a half, he walked made his way past the
running and yelling classmates over to the stage. He thought to himself, "Please, just a few
minutes more". As the roar of talking and the chattering of East coast colleges died and the
area behind the stage was getting darker, he fell ever so quietly into a deep sleep.
Let your light shine before men,
that they may see your good works
and give glory to your father who is in heaven
-Matthew 5:16

Probing the Mind of a Madman

The other day, while driving over the Coronado Bridge, I thought how majestic it must be
to leap from the bridge - to fly! On one end of the bridge there is a serene park and on the other
end are monstrous aircraft carriers that have docked. High and quiet - I am Supreme!
I cut myself shaving this morning. I grab my head and twist and knot my hair and
wonder if this madness will ever stop.
I wonder what happens when one swallows Sominex, the ant-insomnia drug and No-
Doze at the same time: I picture an Indian with his hand over a light candle who does not know
that his hand is charred to the bone.
I recently had a vision of kissing the girl whom I love dearly and for some strange reason
I thought it was as funny as hell and I couldn't stop laughing for a few minutes.
I have a pistol in my pocket with one bullet in its chamber and I have a hole in my head,
right above my left ear, that screams to be filled. Every once in a while, that pistol shines
brighter and that hole screams just a little louder. . .
Will I ever listen to my parents? How many of my friends have I hurt while I existed? I
look down the street and I see people, everybody, whom I have stabbed one way or another. Do
I shout too loud when I ask for the rope to hang myself on the pier?
"Well, that's all we have time for tonight, ladies and gentlemen. Stay tuned next week
when we discover what makes this unique specimen TICK. Until then, goodnight."

Cigarettes, Whiskey, and Friskiness

Cigarettes and whiskey
Man, they always make me frisky,
Girl, you're gonna miss me
when I'm gone
The TV set is blaring
and damn they're always staring
If they were so caring
I'd be alone
Brother's in the prison
cuz he didn't fit the system
Now they're gonna get him
when he's down
Feathers of a pillow
flying out my window
and dry up the morning dew
for this sorry clown
piles of dead bodies draped in purple
Fattening the dogs when they just want
to be loved
But the mice will thank them while
stealing treats off the floor
and the dog raise da lazy eye to the birds
in its food dish

Proud is That person's with me
And far too often

Heads Smashed

Heads smashed
Dreams crashed
as the sober poets laughed
You could be so smart
if you weren't so wise
Shut up and have another beer
Each time I think the world has lost it
Mother Theresa marries Lazarus in bed
A layer of grass has grown over us
we crawl through this dirty root mesh highway
The girls here in this strange world
eight legs, black with a red spot and a wet spot
They keep watching me with sparkle fangs
Seen broken bitches with glass shrapnel in their heads
and now they want revenge.
It was so hard being a guy
so cool just being a bug.
Are you staring at my tits?
No, your flabby ass and your sagging stomach
It's a cold day, if you caught my drift
Psycho spiritual witch doctors to
steal your money
No wonder cigarette use has gone up so,
just trying to deal with all this bullshit lies
That it grows these blind children,
they'll find any way to fuck with you,
put words in your mouth,
All those bad things, sure I said them,
if you want me to say I said them,
because sexual harassment is poetry
They needed to be said,
Whoever did say them was true, correct, and ballsy
genius, alone.
No more flies in my face
No more pigs on my feet
Just my monkey on my back, man,
and we're swinging fine
Yes, I believe this life is killing me
hoar frosted whine to drink our toast
Tea Time with a tampon
And when you tell me I'm so smart,
You say more about yourself.
Rejection is good for the soul
but how much more is there in the world,
I don't have enough.
Give me more and I'll take it, Gladly!
but how much more can I take?
The speed train of acceptance
will slammy you to the ground
if you don't sell your body and soul
The caboose of lost souls over the bridge
crossing the River Lethe
Busy, busy, busy, gotta stay busy
Look somewhere else and they won't bother you
Rotting my teeth at the coffeehouse
I can visit five countries blocks from
my house
These grass plots aren't real
the Japanese parks where you can't play
You, You, You
me, me, me
Why can't we be?
together, playing
no, plajing

Easter Patience

A feast for hardened angels
Let it not be the feast to discredit
Wasn't supposed to do it
Wasn't supposed to eat it
Wasn't supposed to stop the bus here
Parkbench of poison
to shake these bugs out
Sometimes I get so strung out
I've got to get these bugs out
- - - -long
Go yell it on the mountain
Go tell it to the gopher
The mystery is solved
Nobody knows I'm Elvis
Nobody knows I'm high
Nobody cares that the fireplaces are cemented shut
Nobody knows that form letters are
That words carry more than their weight in
Freedom isn't just a word
To sit under a palm tree umbrella in the fog
without scorn
To be real and not to try
say the Literary Agents
but the other times: to try and fail
God Bless
These children will damn me
get me busted
and Jesus loved those shit turd trouble makers?
God, I'm confused. Why?
A world of earthly pleasures and poisons
and Greed of it all
In the spirit of things, he gave
Was it Jesus?
Dale Carnegie
Aikido Master?
My j's too tight, yes I am trying
Starting to see the smoke now
There was a time when I wasn't
When I didn't do that
so long ago
Now Gay blowjobs in the swam naked night pool
To be loud at a party.
Feast of Friends, but more
Some people wanted to kill themselves
spiritually and physically
Rob themselves of Earthly pleasures
Truly a different breed
You belong out there, up there, away
To squeeze it out just a little longer
Maybe they split before the cops came
but their Nike shoes were made of vanity
Let's not dwell on the connection
Easter, Jesus, the Comet Jumpers,
and the lunar eclipse.
A solar eclipse where you can believe
Not a fun poem to do
But, Dr. Thompson, the tree and me
both have feet, let's study the
ground, the ants, even the quadriplegic
has gurney wheels for feet
We all have our own set of feet
to hook us up to the world
and girl you got some strange set!
The kids beating up on each other
Where's your lunch money?
Where's your crack money?
Where's your church money?
Dead Indians for this ground, blood
Death, Dying, murder, disease, why?
Can I do my job right?
Too fucked up on Easter Sunday
to notice Christ walking
bumbling drunk down the sidewalks
The men knew, it was an excuse
to party, Spring
Introducing the children
Then there were those that didn't
want to leave the nest
and then there were those that
had to leave
tried to leave
but staying because of needing
a sick and painful excuse for
And Walt Whitman, a crotchety
old faggot. How he made it?
God knows. . .
Where was the New Yorker?
Where was New York?
Around here it's hard to
distinguish museum frail novelties
with real life
So I walk down the streets and
watch these people laughing
at museums
Art is to laugh and to cry
and very few know the shit between
No one has time for a kid crying
on the corner
Not these presses, nor yesterday's,
but tomorrow's!
but poor and on the streets today
we deserved each day we got
No matter how bad
and if we liked it, that didn't matter
To leave oneself, no one had time
if we got caught in it,
no matter
The late 1970's disco sugar bop sweet sedative
to now, it's still the same
Man, oh man! where have you lead us?
Into the spooky dark canyons
he roamed medievally
to ghosts and winos
he mumbled to himself
Winos devoured him with sick glee
and cackles
into the panhandle of Golden Gate Park
and outside the railroad tracks
of Chicago and Detroit
after the 20's club scene kicked you out
He pushed it to the limits
he went too far
Didn't know what he was doing
Is this new?
Cuz nobody knows
Now can I be your friend?
Because only you and me,
we're the ones that know
that there’s nothing to know
Just the days chug by, but who
walks the street at night?
Do you?
Did you see me in the bush?
with eyes for your sister?
Poisons for our day
and Society / God has deemed our way,
curve and steer it for us
Old ladies saggy faces by the
streetlights or museums
it's all the same
But to where?
Oh great Jesus, what did you have in store?
And can I get more
for myself
by myself?
All these dead bodies, all around me
from a midnight cemetery
to the onslaught of dead
lost souls and days piling on.
I'm trying!
The night burglar's smart
He knows what he's doing
Shoot him!
"There isn't anything to say"
is a preciously guarded secret
except for a knife to play with
or a shovel to dig us with
at the beach and the cemetery
could I have my dollar and leave
Cuz I'm too dizzy with your cameras
Of dreams and kings
being true of just me and you
in the garden, in the field
and us broke people who never had time
Chew on your chant
Patience is a virtue, old man
but I want my money know
in the dark alley, I'll hustle you and kill you
Penalty for early withdraw
Old people are silly
It's a miracle we let them live at all
and though they'd win
with experience and numbers
our doped up minds will have
such a fun time at it
being sucked into
But it has to be one on one, see
because this hive thing won't work
I gotta be away
and the stronger I pull
the stronger society's clutches become
and will ensnare us all
until there are no more safe mountain
no island aways
To live in a box is to dream in a box
of a box
“I won't let you destroy me"
with fierce terror in his hands
Black and red cuming from his gut
That was the mad whiskey curse
Angels in the sand, and sisters full of hate
Where are the Sisters of Mercy?
Where are the Soul Sisters of Fun?
The easy going wino or the abrasive
successful business man
Where was the answer?
The culmination.
ME! (sick)
To know, to really know
That there isn't anything on the
other side of the tracks
except for a real good time
or to drool in the street alley
Don't disregard me
I'm doing this
I get all these people telling me
that they're unselfish
Then why tell me?
To give a life already given
in so many ways I can no longer comprehend
To sell out? No
But there's something else;
a fight
and we heard "Get that money!"
Religion is something I don't
quite get,
just an asyd reporter off the streets
surmises everyone's opinions
We get the same 5 people
in the question column of the
They all say "Don't look at me"
Man, I don't know
To the bone
To the core
He was hard core gangsta rap artist
Seattle on the streets artiste'
Or just another shmuck
Hello Godfrey
To steal inspiration muggings
Mugshots of your mind's vagina
You do see these horrible things
a social fool and my bitch
Nope! Not me
Leave it to a woman to ask
of broken glass on the streets
Shit happens
Move on, and respect
These people, they know their watches
and can tune yours too
A state of deliberate delirium
With a fess up, no one would be
except for friends on the other side
Do I want to walk back?
Time, Time, got no time
You and me
but to run and be free
in the foggy sunshine, Sunday afternoon
After it all lost its meaning
did we dance
Old Jewish warehouses
No, not the Nazi type
but older and pristine and coloured,
with ribbons around the high trees.
The invader, they asked for it
a dog turd in their garden
but they sold me some pleasure
sure is shit smelling beer
Easter and another year has passed
but now its over a Venezuelan belly
it's much nicer
When relationships meant more than their drugs
when we looked at our hands
When no one can look out onto
San Diego horizon as I
Of condo roofs and the breeze
between my arms
above the big noses is the eagle
Jewish trees of cocklebur
We were eagles and we devoured
the weightlifters off the beach
Just wanted your ideas and tobacco
cuz we had none ourselves
Made you look, not ha
but he stood up
holding himself back
When being on your feet is the safest patience
because this is going out of control
too fast
not fast enough
around the same cemetery
spinning around in my shoes
Truly an achievement to get out
Tai chi in the dirt
but among the bird shit and the loagies
you gotta have some respect!
Mothers crying in the street,
and no one listens
What if we threw a party
and no one showed up?
Except for Amos and Andy
dressed alike
These strange things a bus can bring
I am the Ravin
covered in soot and dirt
The way he commanded himself
From stars fading to plaid, where was the answer?
Lost in a videogame of life
and time's running out
out where? scurry to a mousehole
out the backdoor outhouse
out on the seagulls screams
and the beer bottle broken glass dreams
Truly, it was getting there that mattered
cuz when you were there you
wanted more and away
See it was the motion
and this fast pace will kill us all!
These virtues were our saving grace
Is it too late?
but I see these men walking
the streets with muzzles
Got no time
Cuz I'm losing my mind
Cuz there's something out of time
in crushed daisy empty cigarette pack
How big can you dream?
Do you need a remodel for your dollar?
How could they deal with one more
day in their impatience
They can bitch with
Monster truck show wheels dead
in the swamp muds
but you and I swim in the puddle
with our own microscope
make it seem far too vast
big enough
Analytical poetry does not give
good head
A young poor poet gave
her a hand plucked daisy
she took it to her room and there it quietly burned asunder
When common sense negates
Welcome to the Bijou
We want peace! But whose piece?
A sign > cattails
Yes, I could already feel that coming
in my ankles
You been going mad, Dave?
and only you and I would know
oh, you gotta stop that
You been going mad?
So have I
but the Lord's plants will be growing tomorrow
after our party
There's the miracle
a sickened Bio Dome
A day that would never end
in a time when you wanted to walk
out of town
with the shroud of midnight
Of rosy rosary church mother crosses
to the Black Gothic sharp young men
who know
who laugh at others for falling up into it
Just can't let them get ya
Jim walked out with his respect and a song
Crying because he squeezed the bud
before it blossomed
prematurely died in his hands
The poppy rules the world
and only a man would know not to touch it
Jumping out of the car
before it hit the brick wall
I am the Ravin and Phoenix
both and all
The hoarse eagle too
He was a rich fool
who didn't pay attention to
the innerworkings of
the artist on the banker's doorstep
The Banker got hired soldiers and guns
around his powerful walls
around the artists
with the Banker's wives leering
voraciously at the artist
so the Banker bought him up
to look big for his girl
but his girl kept looking at the artist
now a nighttime stranded ho
How were Pamela's last days spent?
When my Angel has left
I'd go chasing right after her
because talking about it would
never do a damn thing
and to live a life of a crying gravedigger's tear
is a waste too
A game of tag between razor eagles
Because strategic missiles don't matter
when your love is gone
Skeletons walking around
strolling business deals of asyd
Empty deals for their food
with a rodent named Tweak
Girl, get some respect!
Someone Mom would be proud of?
It was really hard not to pick up
their strange accent
Irish dialect
Tweak chatter
Iraqi liquor store rantings
But what was really funny was
watching their accent drop
after dealing with the ladies
Girl, you're tight everywhere
Good Samaritan roles are good
and sometimes righteousness
is necessary and earned
but that can only go so far
Elves and fat floating back
rubbing lass clowns
communal loving bastards
My girl! and then there's yours
Watching clown paint run down
the gutters
with the cheap sleaze of the
night club owners
who kept with them a sense of business
Where are Alice Cooper's traveling
ex-bandmates now?
Newspaper nosebleeds
They got cut up in a bottle opener
Tweak chatterboxes in the night street
What good was a million dollars when
you couldn't spend it
But spanging for smokes
you've sold yourself out too cheap
To shoot down a king
that's all we dream
From Pittsburgh coalmines
to the California beaches of heathen health
We are in our own museum
of Death Impatience
and the Nuke was our friend
with the skateboard punks beside it

Modern Cubism

Modern Cubism

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Modern Cubism

The Unknowing Style

Shouldn't have paid attention
You didn't know what to do with ourselves
of job security
and all these people wanted to
be liked
it was strange office politics
Where you were at
and these people wanted to fuck with
Your children are going to
wind up fuckt up like all of us
Can you see your mother sobbing on the kitchen floor from her children’s' sins?
Like mother, like daughter
and the father sadly shaking his head
Like son, like father
Sheer disappointment for our parents
Standing broke in a welfare line
or shuffling down the cold street
with no place to be
but a lot on my mind
I don't know what I want
but I want a lot
Be my queen
Oh my nicotine
There was a sexual tension
of a guy his wife
but then there was this party
that he just had to go and hang
There was a lot of self hate
Nothing to do but eat and fuck
and write in the dark
so alone
so trapped
A wave in my ear
and the scorpion must pierce
its victim before it devours it
And where you're at
but I've got these secret powers
So hard to ditch the spotlight
it keeps chasing
it keeps calling
and maybe I'll go back
but I don't think tonight
It was ugly people that make
the world go round;
Leave it this way?
A guy was so torn
and then there was this guy who was
just stoked being
being a bump on a log
We left rattlesnake trails
in our night sand past
Have we forgotten?
and do you think of the life you eat?
"It's because of him!"
Yeah, I've heard it all before
when I was a kid
A view of the future
but everyone does make it
until the end
The birth of analytic poetry
where ever was the money
except for the fact that
everyone needed the money
everyone was broke
everyone was stingy cheap
where ever was the money?
gone at the dealers and taverns
That fifteen minutes of fame
will come and go pretty quick
but which part do you get prepared for?
Shadow hunters and vampires
hid from the ravage sun
This self hate has somehow or
another carried on our generations
Step outside yourself
where will you come back to?
You thought you were so special
What will happen when we look at you?
millions of years
the evolution of instinct
just how serious do we take ourselves?
Too depressed to be hungry?
It was hunger that made man
venture out
around the block
it's a scary world out there
go back inside warm
Let him die a fool at 27
But he wanted to run from this
self destruction and old age
self delusion
Knew all 5 Nietzschean books
Considers himself a self made expert
Zarathustra skipped on an
ego gloat
Don't mind me
I'm just doing my job
because this is what you are
It was all about this dance
in the desert
How much of your money can I
play around with?
Presidential campaign staff
but who was the guy behind
the camera?
This life isn't one I want to contribute
It was all in the desert
bringing back
carrying with
Some scorpions will even devour
Just want to survive the flood
Just been bitten by the snake
and relax
body falls dead happy
the dime that went around the city
Just a strange matter of survival
This dance may last several hours
on through the night
What did you want to carry through?
oh sorry silly generation
of a false positive
and death was a good thing
God gave me who I am
Take it back
TV got confusing and just
when do the advertisers start
talking to us?
All these strange women around
were watching a bunch of actors
After a hundred years and
generations we got a freeway
we all agreed on something
Dead at 23, died burden hung
of confusion
A vision of the future
but he wanted off this wild ride
but wishes
TV breeds discontent
shoplifters that I root for
but you're the store owner
and the theft is from your side of the counter
how closer can you come to self hate and distrust?
Someone stole the money I just stole!
Sure we're here
but we're never going to get there
The best writings were from candlelight
There were stories to be told
of looking up a barrel of a gun
of facing death and there wasn't
much you could do about it
The strange exotic fun Gothic
of black razorblades and white Cocaine faces
In our frustrations and anger
it will all carry us through
but this is what drives us
you put yourself in such holes of predicaments
just to see if you can get out
and get stories to tell
Boy, they (this life) did a number
on this one
Where I've been
you don't want to have seen
About sex
my finger in your ear
or was it the other way around?
A crazed modesty
Christian humbleness
But who else were they talking to?
A coffee mug with your name on it
A blush and a cheek full of tears
but then you saw everyone else
had theirs too
hanging on a rack
on The Wall
A black brick of a lung with poison
I can't breathe
Mad hoarse whiskey screams from the night balcony
"Come on, motherfuckers!
I'll drag everyone of you down with me
. . . if I gotta go
A strange chortle
a mix between laughter and crying
on the fatality of life
but mixed paradoxically with a proud assurance
was necessary to get by
You don't know how often
a man risks his life
shaving with a rusty razor
The politics of crackheads
One cop going one way
the other cop going the other
and the crazed in the back saying
"Well, what you want wit me?"

A Confessional

I do believe I saw a mirror
while getting a pack a smokes
a girl in front of me
blue jeans, black T-shirt, brown leather jacket
short hair
shared a look
share a gaze
and then there was this girl
who also had this keen sense of style
an art history
a 1940's linear Empire state building
strip tease girl of the cartoon
You want to know why I drink so much?
May lose our friendship
but with the greater the risk,
the stronger it becomes.
As well, an insurance policy
Believe describing is better than acting out
There may be a night
you're gone, but I stopped for a visit
just in case you were home
and Mrs. invites me in anyway.
After a chat, and then there was this quick look
and a realization
and then a wall of humble fear on my part
"I just can't do it, you're my best friend's girl"
is easier said not in the heat of the moment
but then the next morning
"But, honey, he took advantage of me"
and though you'd race over to me
with justified brass knuckles
I wouldn't be able to tell you in the fire of fury
that it takes two to tango
and Eve was equally guilty
But, if I am incapacitated
and some chick wants to jump my shit
there'll be this big shit eating grin behind
this bottle of beer
when she finds just a piece of string
"Back off bitch!" (he he)
Chicks are pissed at me
because I won't give up
I am strangely attracted to you both
I am so strangely attracted to the world
So I'll keep drinking and sublimating,
this is the best way.

The Definition

Four minds swirling around
so confused, so frustrated
drugs to settle
drugs to quiet
Two boys handcuffed to the bedposts
Two girls chained to his fears
and the rank smell of wet vagina
and frustrated cock sweat floated
through the crystal palace
Just wanted a release
and for this we had to be tied
That insane bitch was fit to be tied
It was in the faces
it brushed up against my nose
I licked my lips
Sexual personae changed shoes
and then she straddled my lap
I looked over and my dear friend
having the same horror
It was the only way
But the girls knew of this strange social dance
so they backed up
and teased
and came back down
not too quick
but slowly and gently
Nothing really came from it
no grand finale
but a long happy liberating night
"Hey, Ryan, how many, 8 or 9?"
"Man, I counted 15!"
We all changed our names
and moved out to the desert
Gadsden Purchase
of dusty Victorian houses
It was there we danced
in the crimson sun and the evening breeze.
The scorpion had to devour to love


It's a Fire

Random Perchance

The morning sun chased away frustrations
any case of blues
The birds shouted out droned
anything left
planned cacophony for my chaos
Can't quite intertwine colours and smell
the sky is purple-blue and pink
of the most beautiful nativity wreath
but it smells like burning green
because of me
Old folks out walking
Grown ups just waking
Rolling around in bed with some girl
is where I should be right now
but I find it so amazing
there's a time before the morning paper
The sun is late to work
Apollo had to stop and get gas and coffee
but we all needed a break
after playing hide and go seek with moonshadows
Some songs needed to be changed
and some days need to be different
Will this be the day?
A lottery ticket

Little Girl Lost in the City

Sleeping women to the side
Dead men on the inside
under my feet
A girl to meet, lost in downtown,
lost in town
It shouldn't have happened
Cursed cans and angry cops
Lonely babies and stained bedsheets
empty palace of straw
in the middle of the dead gray swamp field
crumpled and burnt to dust
Why am I here
watching the painted perfumed manatee
through the window?
Love and Confusion Brewery
heartily knows the answer
a cracker jacks prize in the bottle
I heard your name while walking
down the street,
turned around to see a flock of
pigeons fly from the sidewalk
With each flap of their wing,
there I heard Wonder, Wonder
The buildings trembled and melted
I held onto the bus stop sign
in fear
of losing it all
Wondering what you're doing right now
and I feel drunk
Lost of control in your image
Running frolicking in your hand
Swimming, skinny dipping in your eyes
Skating on your lips
Lost, engulfed in your mouth,
just a small fool in the corner
of the spectacle prism of your soul
An expensive drug that I can't live without
Just one word would send me over
Died of a smile, overdose
Say it please, I can hear your whisper
I watch every move you make
Each time your hair style changes
Each time a smile rests on your face
When the wind flaps your dress
Standing here with muddy feet,
I live for your forgiveness

One Dead Mother

My mother's been dead for weeks years
but still I see her ghost floating the halls
pale, sagged skin, cheap wine in her hand
Instead of rattling chains
she sneezes and still cries of things that brought
her down
an unrelenting job, an insane bitch mother,
a husband that wouldn't understand,
wouldn't shut up,
and kids that never listened
never stopped consuming her purse, refrigerator,
and phone bills
She comes and goes
and I leave her alone
She never told me she was leaving
and she never tells me when she's here
So far away
to stay

Hotel Regal

“Hotel Regal”
See the lights
It’s the red wine blues
Sunset sleeping- in a car
I’d rather not
In the town where you can
Smoke only in the middle of the highway
We sat around and chewed the tin foil
Children shrieks make the wife smile
And the dirty husband drink
In memory of he who carved this bench
Drainage ditch, beds for the rich
We dug through the garbage for their scraps.
In the days of the impoverished,
we lived like kings
Now we work, everyone must pay
Every single day, it’s the same old thing
Where will I work?
Where will I find food and drink and smoke?
Sleeping in my goddamned car!
And then they tell me I’m no good
Well, why don’t you pay me?
I’ve lost more jobs than I’ve scored pussy
I said, Something’s wrong
Then I slept, and that old fire
That I relied for my ever loving pain, died
How come I only use God’s name in need?
And a fire burned
in my heart
The Chinaman Safeway worker spat on me
When this starving soul ran off with a hoagie
What’s a nigga to do?
Risking arrest everyday, every action
For something yesterday
But where will I be tonight?

I’ll always be true
Cuz I won’t mess around
Even with you babe
Unless you’ll show me
The reason we strayed
All our fights were cause of sex
The demon of innocence
And drugs, alcohol,
Did you read the book?
The drinkers were plagued with demons
Too true to imagine
I’m sorry baby
As youth walking out, down the street
Never to be seen again
Sorry that I know never to give it up
Even with all the pens and paper
You pretended

Blood on a Candle

Blood on a candle
Don’t cry kid, it’s against the law
Fancy wine, fancy chocolate, and free cigarettes
Everything, you and me, has its price
Drinking red ass whine under the
Crying angel weeping willow tree
Wheezing, fighting for that
breath of the good life
I’ve heard of it
You shouldn’t take so much pride
in being a drunk
But pride is all I can have
No sense in being a dirty drunk
Already have my shame, and yours too
The leader of the leaping lemmings
A fight to have at this self imposed
socially imposed guilt
Drinking is too long a drawn out process of suicide
And too much fun
The monster, black and leather
Shock the sonofabitch again
And you thought those three words
“I love you” would solve it all
Think again, bum

God Loves Richard Jewell

“God Loves Richard Jewell”
The bus driver don’t give us no slack
Like the prison warden, he don’t care
And in this life, then, why should we?
A ticket to ride, pigeon shit
There're pigeons now on Market square
She’s standing in here underwear
Looking down from a motel room
Moonfall will be coming soon
She was a good wife
Packed his bags for the suicide
If you’ve got to go, you got to go
But I wanted to linger just five minutes more
Those hugs weren’t enough
Unless they could last forever
Got kicked out of bed
Not a moment too soon
To ride this roundabout circle
To Degas Hell
A bum with a keyboard, but nowhere to plug in
Bronze stiff children dance firemen
I don’t know man, I just woke up
Placid waves lap the bay
And this loneliness won’t leave me alone
I’ve got nothing to live for
No, and I ain’t got no money to pay
Just sitting at the Transbay Terminal
Watching my bus roll away
A wino hacks the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls
This jive thing has got to stop
Oakland wild fro boys beating
each other
A puppy licks their wounds
This whine country sissiness must die!
Being drunk was a good disguise
What for?
For pretending that you don’t know
what’s going down
I’ve heard of Greyhound Express bus
But this sure as hell ain’t one
A frustrated frantic pigeon smashes
its head into the glass walls of our prison device
As we devised empty plans to escape
We tossed lucky pennies
Into the bidets at Market @ San Carlos
Kindness and respect overrode
The flowing tears for the
leaving husband
Gray wild woman sagging stomach Punjabi
Waited for his return
This is the garden of my angel grew
But now the original track homes blur
Wet paper bag park benches in
A circle honor a rock, that’s it
Great America Towing?
Wasn’t it so nice to taste fashion?
When you weren’t looking
But now you’ve been sucked in and are chasing
Forgotten emptiness
Was once a mighty ice cube
Now in the desert hot sands
Valley of Green, rivers
Trees softly brushing the water surface
Tickling the aphid’s back
This is what Muir saw
Not the exploitive oppressive Central Boring
Valley of leaches at bus stops
Nothing to do but consume triple prices
and watch poor Mexican dust pickers
Clinging desperately to any pride found
Under hats and silk shirts
We gave up
When the stewardess left with our
Prohibited intoxicants
A joint would help with this trip
But I’ve got a wife in which
Dreams take me higher
In hidden hamlets of Hollister
Cool things are secret
The fields grew legs and ran alongside
Over the bumps of the ride
Down the road of empty conversation
Keep thinking of the man kicked off
In San Rafael
Busted for smoking a cigarette in the pisser
a light flicked on warning the driver
and shit went to hell
and now he’s alone on the road
with nowhere to go, and his cigarette
burning him down to the but
barreling down, past countless state prisons
crime, big business, reaches all the way
to my Greyhound ticket pocket
Buildings crammed, emasculated dreg souls
Victims of law enforcement’s
Strategic deceptions
The one you love is the one that should take you higher
If you got no one, you’d better go back out and find her
They all warned, “Don’t go out there”
But what else was there to do?
When we were young, we drank to die
But that took too long
Now we drink to hold on
Bitten by the monster
And oh my God I love her
Sure there was a wall to bitch at and
Bounce off
But those little things like packing my food
And making sure she cared
Mean all the world
Reciprocation is a land of poor futile confusion
Have a night to pursue happiness
But to obtain it is questionable
Car explosions and tipped road comes
Rolling rock and bounced tires
And the pool of holy water
Always off in the distance
Will we ever get there, you and I
Naked as children?
With this penal system we learned
Not to trust a soul
When your defense attorney turns you in,
Man, I ain’t seen nothing new
But I don’t want to get hard, against my woman
They’ve made my life outside a prison too!
Billy, and this okiedokieing folk,
There is a better way of confrontation
Elevation is Evaluation
A dead bloated possum on the road
The world to the wino, “No love, no love”
So he danced with the street light
Finally silence became a symphony
The playground of death and fears
Merry go round spun dizzily faster into the sun
When will they get around to drop the bomb?
And when our time comes. . .
But our time is now
And I’m coming at it with a mean ugly streak of vengeance
For what it’s done to me and my life
To work and sweat and by my fucking neck
To my crew, oh if I could repay
All the times they’ve come up huge
As a millionaire, I’d be worse then
Auto scrapyard and homeless encampments
A maze of railroad tracks never sought to amaze me
Every city I see it’s the same old thing
Steam slipping through cracks
San Fernando, Glendale, Los Angeles
Front yard plastic swim pool, a rock of walls
Rivers and luscious track homes
International students French @ Japanese
Telling me of absinthe and zambuka sans opium
And find the science of madness interesting
Old abandoned dedicated train depots
If only it were true to it
Financial timetable
There were walls not to see the city
There wasn’t much but silliness
Apollo is ready for battle
LAPD is gruesome architecture
Monolithic and ugly, just like their
Station building
Ask a man to pass the goddamn potatoes
Do Not Cure
Do Not Enter
We in the projects, we in the hood
Wherever you hide out
We’ve pissed there first
Weary bus passengers gleam out the window
Ants swarming
Notes and lines so lost
And fat bloated old men
Fathers, they thought they knew
But are we all a bunch of schmucks?
And our wives were wise to us
All our live on a pin point
We live to kill ourselves
Gimme pain
A TV preaching death and Revelations
Showing off our bloody tattoos
And you don’t even know me
I meant something wrong
But then there was Mt. St. Helens
Erupting in our belly
The demon was in a fair young girl
Love to hate, hate to love
Old Navy pukes vs. old sweaty lady men reading
bartender manual dressed to funky
Are we all a bunch of silly numbers
Mauled skunks in a backyard
None of this meant nothing
Old time rock and roll in a 21rst century town
Old man country bartender
Elks moose president and chef student
Everyone danced so preciously
To apologize really is an intrusion
A double check to see if you meant something
I’m sorry for everything wrong in the world
Everyone would play the martyr
Stories told in the desert by T-Bo’n
But when it came down, so did we
Out of the owl eagle’s nest and
Back into our depressions
So sweating to git the fuck out of this town
Kindly old Mexican man to the side of me
Being honorable is trying to do
As your folks got through
Trying not to be the poet was the poet
Trying to catch the bus wasn’t
Lost luggage in Los Angeles
Three hours later, sleeping through a black bus car wash
Checking out fashion and trend magazines
In the Central Valley over asyd tea
A strange sick mix of country and rave music
But back on the road those wheels turned
Conversations with an old beautiful social
Worker lady, tips of love and organization
A porch swing for two
Talk of progressive dementia
Progressive degenerative, difference?
Religion, she’d slap me upside my fool head
if she knew I said “Nigger” frequently
To agitate
Old men in funky fedora flumes
A strange cute four eyes perky
Fleshy Indian paleface girl
Smiling at me, and then her boyfriend
Tie dye traveling to the Phish show
A couple, stroking, laughing, sleeping,
Wondering if I could ever
Above the obnoxious roar of the Harleys
A great myriad of faces
Some not on the bus
Like fat old rip-off queen busstop storeowners
In hick towns I care to forget
Of old imploded graffiti decorated
Farm homes of wayback yesteryear
Of invisible lakes and oceans
Of the Golden Hills of California, the Golden State
The developer pushed the reputable drunk
out of the helicopter for not advertising sickly:
“There’s gold in them thar hills”
They kicked me off the bus
in Santa Rosa
this is your home
back to my car
back to my girl
back home
whatever that was
Are there yet?



It was a drag, man,
A fucking drag
Another failed Grove experiment
You gotta do what you gotta do
Sell off these stupid fucking dreams, kid,
Cuz they won’t help you no how
The whiny assed poets, the real poets
all said, I don’t get it
I got drunk to help me forget
Another day, another hit
I’m getting faded
A frigid crazy bitch and a fallen down drunk
Who can’t get it up
Really didn’t want to
It was difficult to view you as
sexually exciting
Now, really, which one believed this more?
Visited an old man beat from the weary trade
Black phlegm crawling and seeping
Out of the trailer chimney
He showed me I really didn’t know
what filth was
To explore disgustingism was
more dangerous than rock and roll
That my songs are just sad
It’s true, fucking pissed at the world,
What’s been done, and what’s not been done
Of the winos, and the junkies
and the day time hustlers
Pimps, in feather hats only around on Friday,
But his ladies look for shards of dignity
every broken glass night
Of people who just gave up
when they were told to
They just mastered it the wrong way, right?
Of the homeless and the ex-cons
Wandering the streets
Where bare feet in the snow is the
only warmth they get ‘round here
The Party Train
They laughed and jeered and guess who the clown was?
Alone, in the cold, he went a little too far
Just following orders, ma’am
I am the leader of the leaping lemurs!
You’ve been good to me
You really have
Been fucking swell
The self was lost in the contemplation of faith
And still more, what of distrust?
But the self was found in the revelry of sin
Sad folks, here was the message
found in the gutter:
Some work too hard, some work too little
But there was no just right with this suffering
Did you know, it really hurts?
I don’t know what I miss
But it really fucking hurts
Life was sacred
Staring, staring into that vacuous void
Robbed us of our sight,
We stared at the sun too long
He said we tell the same tale over and over again
But some say he polished his stone too muck
Fell out of his hands
I’ve come to know the cold
I think of it as home
When there ain’t enough of me
To go around
I’d rather be left alone
But if I call you out of habit
I’m out of love and I’ve got to have it
Woman, give it to me
I’ll fit your need
Just like when we’d knew we’d win
Now the damage’s done
And we’re back out on the run
Funny how everything was roses
When we held on to our guns
Just because you’re winning
Don’t mean you’re the lucky one
And the spirit was broken down
He’s out of town, back on the road
A tethered paddle ball
It took five years for her to say yes
and call my bluff
But less than a year
To look down from our new fearful height
and into our weathered, changed faces.
The angel Gabrielle visited
“Shriek not so, my only love”
But what the hell else am I going to do?


Conclusion : “No more Tunnel vision”

Maybe I lost my edge, reclaimed an old one, or just grew a different horn. Like a broke man holding on to the last sliver of bar soap. Everyone’s talking of viscosity, as in my blood, quicksilver. Todd, I think I can still hang on the porch, but still we will feel a difference, maybe not with just you and me.
Girl, don’t even start, don’t make me go there
Had a dream that I went back to high school, reunion form, and some people ask me to join them, offstage, for a joint. “No, thank you”. “Oh man, we thought you’d come around and be cool by now”. But one of the alcohol / weed lessons was “So what? If you’re not cool to me, then I don’t care what you think” and this was transferable from depressed misery to self-positiveness, but let’s not jump on the inanely unknowing positiveness. This is not a celebration of sobriety, because the shakes I’ve come to love has put me on edge. Those who never sought the other side don’t know what’s over (t)here, nor could respect the arduous and risky travel.
Really, it’s a science of madness, of mental self indulgence, rampant research that we picked up, a terrible love to throw ourselves as deep as we can into our work. To gladly spend 37 hour days without a lunch, and never to pull out beat it pulp to the ground and go through it. The 96 Republican Convention.
A recovering alcoholic boy and his reclaimed girlfriend went to dinner, and there was a stumbling old man obnoxious crying drunk. The waitstaff was unsuccessfully trying to steer him outside; the more they prodded, the more he resisted and became violently vocal, cursing of their mothers, and their food is shit, etc. The young man came to the inebriate, calmly and slowly putting his arm on his shoulder, “Come on friend, it’s time to go”, but instead received a few belts to the stomach. An alcoholic’s twist to the self-righteous sober’s ‘I can take all your shit’ martyr symptom mixed with the wild Irishman drunk fight for fun., the youth elbowed the elderly in the ribs. They stared into each other’s eyes, a wave of peace, of shared knowledge and pains, got to be strong, “Come on old man”, and they walked out the door. “you know it hurts, it really fucking hurts, I miss … I miss … Well I forgot what I miss, but it hurts real bad”. “Yeah, I know”.
Outside, the Chinese waitstaff hurled shoes and old fruit at the old man, shouting never to return and lay off the juice. And what of your drug of choice? Lay off the pretty flower, boys.
On the way home, they told jokes and old stories of around the way, dancing on that fine line between laughing and crying. They stopped along the way so the old man could by a fifth of Kessler for home. When they reached to the old man’s front doorstep, the old man dug in his pocket and gave the new man a $100 bill
Kid put it in his car glove box while driving back to the restaurant to catch back up with his chick. When inside, the waitstaff was hesitant to acknowledge or deal with him, not that he was asking, but there were so many whispers back in the kitchen. Yeah, that’s right, your eastern world inner peace was bullshit too. So he sat down with his girl and she told him stories of her day over green tea. Tried to listen attentively, but found himself concentrating more on the melody of her voice and how the colour of her eyes reflected on her gold hair.
Moments later, the door burst open with hooded thugs armed with pistols. “Everyone pull out your wallets and we’ll make this quick and painless”. They circled around the restaurant, picking up their loot at each table. The manager’s hand trembled when handing over the contents of the cash register. When they got to our hero’s table they were upset. With a gun in his face, “Give me your wallet”. Though he had only a dollar in it and a $100 in the car, for spite he said “No” and chuckled at them, ain’t no one ever gonna make him run except himself.
They shot him in the stomach while barreling out the restaurant. He slumped onto the floor and laughed.
Now I may not be able to keep it real again, and I may be a poser in the future, but we can’t be old men in our youth nor be infantile men.
I really need to set a new crowd for myself and the NA folk are annoyingly really friendly, but
recovering addicts are a fucking drag when they keep whining over their recovery, because life goes on