harlequin romance

Love....
But
Love
In the dirt
With the worm
As silent witness-
God's Digestion
Content.
To Covet
And Fly/Cast.
Go Bye
A Cell

The problem with psychology is the suggest ability of the human mind which is very high.  I see all these people walking around with i-pods, listening to their favorite music, and I think of   "Invasion of the Body Snatchers".   I left my therapist because I think it is enough  to be bi-polar.  If I had stayed I'm sure that she would be having me with 12 multiple personalities and publishing a tell-all psychology book about their identities in the same vein as "Sybil".  I wanted to fuck her of course, but she was married, so I left her.  Maybe she could have even justified it in the name of science.
My clock is ticking down, all our clocks are.  That is the terrifying thing about life.  We are all night watchmen walking around it turning the key at all the high lights and low lights of out existence recording our moments for God to digest when we burn up in his love.   Or sneak around it by going up his ass-hole, but God is nothing if not patient.  Every dog has its day.  Eventually the sun will turn into a "red" giant and cook the inner planets.  Maybe we will have stopped wasting time killing ourselves and moved on by then, but I kind of doubt it.  It is the tribal nature of man-kind to look at itself as us and the other.
"The Feast of the Harlequin" has to be one of my favorite short stories.  Thomas Ligotti has to be the second coming of EAP.  This poem is of course in his honor.

new day rising

mean people suck the air right out of me;
i assume you like air.
when a person is manic
depressive
lets see if we can't
drive him to suicide
sounds like a real
'fun' game to me:
ass holes.
I have one too
u know.

slackers

has to be one of my favorite 'movies' It is basically a stream of consciousness film that starts with the director on a bus going to Austin, Texas.  He gets on a cab and then gets out and wanders off.  We now go from third person perspective to first person with the director now behind the camera.  The rest of the film is basically a trip through Austin, an urban songline with no apparent destination.  It is a love song to a time and a place that unfortunately is no more.  As the saying goes, you can never go home, for that place will never be as you remembered it.  Fortunately,  "Austin City Limits" is still there to remind us a little of the greatness of that town.
Austin is of course the name of Emily Dickinson's brother but that is neither here nor there.

The sub-stance
Splits the light
into colors.
Do trusting dogs see rainbows?
For they can only see in black
and white.

And the prideful pussies,
As they preen,  strut
and go.
Do the fleas love them any
less for the beauty
they show?

my poems are not that subtle or clever, here is a short one from the master:

we shall find the cube of the rainbow,
Of that there is no doubt;
But the arc of a lover's conjecture
Eludes the finding out.

Is intelligence a sin just because prideful fools want to put the shotgun to their chin?  
Is there a hierarchy of love?  Flying planes into buildings is not going to teach any-one anything except fear.  How fucking old testament can you get.  How much gold in the universe do you want?
The ends do not justify the means.

9-26-11

Went to my favorite restaurant the other day.  The waiter gave the satan horns sign to some customers.  I decided not to eat there any more.  He is a fool any ways.  Too bad, I liked the food.  Guys are such idiots, I can say that because I am a guy.  There is no such thing as a free dinner though and I was hurting after that meal.  I have to start cooking for myself.

sore throat

Emma sees a square
lifting
up from despair
but the way is fraught
with tools
given
not bought
and flees the scene
for the mere.


Dream:  Hanging out with nice girl who throws herbs on me that I have no idea what they do.  Then this guy comes in picks up a table and starts rubbing it on his crotch demanding weed and booze.

I wake up and wonder what the hell that one meant.  I do have to say that I do tend to beat off a bit much and it has led to my distancing myself from the world.  I'm almost one month without smoking any bud.  But I did have some drinks the other day and now I have a sore throat.  It serves me right.  

Inspiration

"if eyes were make for seeing,
Then Beauty is its own excuse for being:"
                                                               Ralph Waldo Emerson
It is the light in your
eyes that is beautiful
your happiness is
mined as well
Wishing
The soft beauty of breath
The silent beauty of Death
Deferring.

9-16-11

I've got this rant in my head, but I could never repeat it word for word.  It doesn't make me feel any better.  I don't think that is what people want to hear.  But I have to write something, if not only to excercise my fingers, to train them to move obediently.  My demons have already had enough excercise.
I bought a t-shirt from some guy a long time ago.  It had a drawing of a skull.  The message underneath proclaimed 'Neanderthals are among us, even now'.  That is so true.  I might fit the bill, but my feet are too small.   And my heart is too big.
-Poem in Progress-
Heaven Help ME
For Being a Sentimental
Sap
Oozing
From the Trees
Like Sticky Tears
Trapping the Flies
Come for a Taste
Hardening over Time
To Golden Amber
Preserving
Placed on a Shelf
In the cellar
to gather dust
trapped
in a new home.

fool moon

You with your lunar cycle
Turning, sand into the world
Burning to glass, rushing
And Tumbling, Hurrying
With Hare, ever Resourceful
Yearning.

9-12-11

Depression is stasis.  I don't feel like working (in or out).  I feel like falling down the lonely left; loser that I am.  If I feel this way after a round, then I will go and do what I feel is my calling.
I gave a stripper a 20 and she got mad at me.  Perhaps she thought I wanted more than just to watch her dance.  She did not realize that money means little to me.  Perhaps I did want to get to know her.  I think she called herself 'Destiny'.  She worked out and had muscles.  I thought she was attractive
The world rolls over me with a steam roller flattening me out.  So cars can drive over me.  I am impotent.  My anger is an importance.  I steals in and possesses me, then leaves.  I am helpless.  I am no savior; I am nobody.
To be or not to be..........If I am nothing, it is no crime to take my leave of this place, where fuck is dirty but kill is OK.  will I stall further or else.  It is fear that keeps me here.

Teachers

Mrs. O'Connor read a story to the second grade class:  Tal- and his Adventures in Noom-Zar-Noom" by Paul Fenimore Cooper.  (I found it in a library even though it is long out-of-print).  She was a nice woman, quiet and soft spoken:  one of my favorite teachers.  Her husband was a science teacher, and we did neat things like grow alum crystals and one time he did a demonstration that got our attention.  Corn starch when it is sitting in a pile is not very flammable, but blow on that pile in a can (through a rubber tube) with a candle inside a well, a you can get quite a big ball of flame.
     The O'Connors ran a summer camp.  We would make pot-holders, weave baskets, pound copper into ash trays (which I still have).  They made a drink, which I loved, they called it Okies Punch (grape juice and ginger ale).  I was so lucky to have known them:   a wonderful couple of teachers.

Life Lesson #4

"prayer was not about manipulation to gain an advantage, under any circumstances, but rather a conversation within that led to insight."  Peter Gwillim Kreitter

for Matt and Trey

Smug Smaug
Drifting Down
All around
Chalking
Me-------------------------
when I go out
Perhaps I take it all
Wrong
A Song with many voices
a Chorus
helps fill out the Song

for Holger Czukay

Catch and Release
The little fish
That Could
I think
I Can
I think
I Can

no title

Rather than walking
a road, a highway
Walk a Path
1 fish
feeds
many
through
story

From a Dream

Dot picked up in her home
Her friends swept out
one by one
Holding on, the house
miraculously is put
down in one piece
(Must be well made)

Passport

The Serene Machine
Approaches A bed
Dream
Dressed in a Gown
Faint Glittering Lights
Red, Flowing Over
The Car Pet
Her Head Enclosed
By a Cloud of Stars
Curious
George A. Monkee
Bar Bell
Tale Less
Now.
Time to Water the Garden
before the Sun Getz any
Higher.  It's going to be
a Scorcher, totally.

Piano

Tickling the Joys
of Music,
Oscar
Sings with his
Fingers
A beautiful duet
Between Right and Left
With a Key board
Yielding to his Touch.

no title

Bene
Diction
          a
          r
A       y
Map to the Stars
Meet half-way
At the Bar
I'll have a Stripper
with a Twist of Limey
Erth a
Kitt
A singer not a S
                       O
                       N
                       G

Siblings and such

You dropped my
Drag on
Even after I
Advised Caution
I was so Proud
of it;
I tore you a New One.
Climbing the Tree
in Loafers,
I fell
Fracturing my Arm
The Green Stick Kind.


Playing Tennis with You
in Your Whites
I loved to make You
Run with my Lefty Spin
Arms and legs outstretched
in a Beautiful Dance
Later in the Shadow of
Your Parents hope
I let the moment slip
By, With you in your
wet suit and the
Windows Watching


And your Mother
Ran Around
Pulling the Hose
From the Pool
lest any one see
Her Crime
**********
Pardon the Time

Trace-E

Fate put you there-
The woman behind
The Window
I bought you a glass
of liquid fire
And one for myself
As well,
Down the Hatch
Into a new
Dream
Connection
Uplift
        u
        r
        n down the Covers
The Blindness
I Fearfully
Wear
On
    ly for you
This one dance       in
John Barley Corn   Pot we trust

Raph'

was a beautiful
Cat, Black
And he would
wake me every
morning to Pee
and look for his
lost Siamese Friend,
and perhaps to Wake
A Sleepyhead
He would meow
ever morn at
6:30 never fail.
But rage caught/found
me unaware again
and I threw him down
to the ground
breaking his back
Guilt and Fear
Had won
I was helpless
until I hit bottom
In my
Birthday
Suit
singing lustfully:
Mama Mia
Pappa Pia Que
Sadia around
my Land- This
raising and lowering
a bamboo
Pole.
I got to Alberta
and I smartly
pivoted turning right
and continuing
my March
Around this big
E-Village
when the
cop car pulled up
I stopped feeling,
the warm pavement
at my feet
Grabbed Hold,
Guess I took
the Wrong turn
in Albequeque
Duh'
O (like Homer)

Dizzy-like

France is
My Aged Wine
That saves my
Heart (Butt) (Ass)
Right from the Start
If I don't
do it we
all just might
as well fart

no title

Looking at her
Smile lines
Her patience
Rewarded
Twin canyons
Flowing From
Cheeky Prominence

no title

Satan Thrown Down
Shattering of Ground,
Pepper a Sneeze
from God; life's
Casual ease,
Murdering of Yertel.
A tortoise Crawling
From Competition, One
To Expire Under the Sun.
H2O4 Evaporate, then
Explode
But not Done!

no title

three is a trinity
it makes my heart beat faster,
it makes life last longer
on trips fasting, longer than
My loves worth keepin'
A fashion I'm making,
For those left,
souls
I'm takin'

666

seven already satan
a stuttering booyah
security of the flesh
recruits for the holy
war on the garden
untended, an evil
befriended, a willing
companion, Death's
Productive Colostamy
Removed to
Curchill

third cummings

Hey Sharon
-Here are warmest wishes-
Boo you
            live in 'Frisco'
infect me with your love
my friend fears the
dirty word
I fear the dirty water
flowing from the Nile
to Lake Charles
a shallow lake no doubt
living with his mother
shaded, drawn against
the light, cats roaming
about the smell of piss
in the air, and your small
library of books, paperbound
up in drugs prescribed by
lazy doctors washing their
hands like Pilate
       Sweat stinking
killed by medication
       St. Charles
in my book-what a
hell!  Even your
brother cannot save you with his camera
following behind
recorders of a
train wreck in slow
motion a post
script
gone to France
but there is no escape
"I'll have a royalle with cheese"
with that.
-pomme de terre-

no title

If we are going to survive, we have to produce a united front and hold the line throughout all of time.  No-one is too small or too large.
Marge is charge.

Methodology

Singletons were selected.
I let my fingers do the walking.
Songs progress in order
1,2,3,4 etc.
Random is Gumption.
The meaning is found in practice Gloaming,
till laughter
Seeming at ridiculous,
Nessy sticks her head up for a look.
Laswell left out because his songs are too long.

What am I?

no title

A 2 Way
St. makes
u feel good
and helps other
people.

where ever it goes

I was reading some Alice Walker tonight ('The Old Artist') and she mentions that Alcoholism in Mr. Sweet's (a blues guitar player) case,  was a "slow method of suicide".  And I thought to myself, here is someone who thinks like me.  Unfortunately, drinking oneself to death is not a very graceful way to go.  I had about four ounces of Makers Mark the other night in honor of my mother's birthday, and was given the drunk test before I left the party (passed with flying colors).  I guess I have a genetic predisposition for booze.  I woke up the next morning feeling just a little groggy.  The funeral service for my lost brain cells will be held on Tuesday.
Alice ends her essay with a story about how a girl friend of hers from college sent in a piece to Langston Hughes who "loved it immediately".   He was another Mr. Sweet: a survivor.  I guess I am a survivor too.  My sister thinks I should sent some of my poetry in to Sharon Olds (a big influence), even though I know my brain droppings couldn't hold a candle to Robert Frost (he is so wise).  I am learning though and as long as can still pull air into these blackened lungs, I will keep trying.