the rockstar of socialism

sure the world would word war

the earth erupt in erotic equalism

the tide took a turn

and the socialist sucked up the soul

to bring us a

ression rescue remebered by ragan's ragan-nomics
and trickle down trickery of time bombs ticking

close to that old blue book bible begining
socialism of the saints
no one who goes to God's glory
wants good ole fashion reform

they want

to wollow in woes
and a free market with trades
saturating greed and the lock of nest
on pricing to be forseen

what a day and age
as this...

America
needs

socialism
and democarcy

if the check ever comes to free a man's soul

"shower,
shower!"

the sweat made the underarms soak and the damp air made his head
hurt as if a cold was coming on. not the kind you think about when the sore of the back of the throat
bed-sides you. I'm talking about the cold of life's weary head on stone pillows and the naked
cloth of a body torn+++

the signs of a man wrapped up in himself is
simple...

forgets to bathe, brush the teeth, and look out his window. Never sees the beauty,
even if, he looks at the cage as a place of creative solitude, it still is a cage.
the self is a funny thing.
a deafing thing.
a crying boy.

the cold was like this on his 30th year on the planet
earth


__________________________once the man thought of leaving home
family and heading into the life of a monk-nuts-happy-go-luckly
mystic.
but that never amounted to filling the gap soul.
He kept the cell closed and rotted and saw no light.

The day of redemention was/is upon him/us

Winds rushed to the front door, knocking at the shutters on the bathroom window.
the man's cat stood looking at the front door. fighting the sound and waited to be let out, but the man
just sat still- banging the keys
typing the notes -never getting back home the man with vigor but weak strength
found it, I would say in himself, but that was not the case. He found it in God,
see God, unlatching his cat, knew that the man had to be pushed into the unknown not gladly did jonah find his calling
so too the man was pushed
flung wide open to the outside like a calling of veneration.
a parting of red seas' and the cat stormed out into the wild woods and took no time to dissappear the man not
acustomed to failure strapped on the boots and ran after the cat all night he'd climb trees in the neighborhood and
scream
"SOPHIE, SOPHIE...HERE KITTY..KITTY..KITTTYYYY"
making little kissing nosies in between the calling
long drawnout memories of the
first night he got his little one, ran through his mind and like light in the pitchblack of night
it happened

he finally realised the escape was a planned venture and decided to go back in.
by this time the wind rushed leaves pass his head and stuck claim to his skeleton frame.
forcing him to run toward the door to keep his jacket on. the stairs to the cave/cage
were creaky and afraid to wake any of his owners the man tried his hardest to tippy toe around the controlling
factors of his lonely old maid that demanded his hand, which he was certian would be used for ill gain and unrighteous
deeds to fufill man's lust for a power they knew nothing about. Seeing his fate to be one with the cat,
at first sonic creak to come from the stairs the man decided he too would bolt and be like the cat.
the first creak happened. then another, and then another, another.
soon the man was at the front door of what he knew to be a slave shack and
there, just sitting on the doormat was the cat pawing the door ever so lightly
the man opened to find soup on the table and a dim reading light by an old rocking chair

he sat back at the typewriter and wrote

THEY DON'T SMELL LIKE ROSES IF THE WIND BLOWS TOO HARD

I'm gonna find that sick ass ride.....

we must of been
half drunk and crazy
landing our bodies in the glen park district of SF
at a party filled with
middle age
socalites and the beauty was in
the balcony
hanging over the veiw,
looking down at the glory of
all the dark of hollow ween
and the lit up sidewalks of streets
below
and the winds picking up, and
the rain is falling in the east bay.
if you don't leave yr home much
the experience of the outside world
metamorphs more colorful.
shades of language
deep touch the
:::::::::::::::::::::::beauty
the decaying moment
of our little plight-venture.
professional photos of our redneck costumes
that felt more like our skin then our
personality and the saddness is in the rain
the pouring tears of god as he looks upon his

hope
the joy of the cold and the friendship of our deepest love
and the falling feeling

donald and barry go to the park

much like today. Dry heat, slight breeze, perfect for
the skatepark. donald called barry at 10:30 am "what are you doing?"
donald always had the snappiest phone conversations
" you down to skate?"

"sure, what time"
barry drawed out like a midwesterner, not schooled in the slick cityslicker
speech of his friend.
"well give me a an hour I gotta shower then I want to get a cup of coffee..."
"okay so around noon."

"naw, no make it 12:30"
lilly was petting the cat on the bed
saying all kinds of cute phrases like
"yea, so cute little mouse...just the cutest baby, my baby"
the phone hung up and she asked
"who was that"
"donald. we're going to the skatepark in alameda at 12:30"

barry knew she didn't like it when he went on these
excurtions, because barry was broke and unemployed and dropped out of college;
because of the inability to get the loans for the rest of the schooling;
due to the fact he couldn't put gas in the tank.

the car was a 2003 sentra and it happened to be on E
for the last two days and barry knew it wasn't going to make it to the skatepark
or home but he ventured outside like a brave hermit crab would in the off season
and the car made it to donald's dads boat where donald was staying because of the
currrent circumstances of his loan for schooling. by the time barry parked and head for the peer
by qunn's light house. qunn's was this old lighthouse made into a restruant where you could
over look the boats and throw peanut shells on the floor of the restruant...barry wasn't allowed to have
peanuts because of an allergic outbrust a long time ago,actually it was at the skate park, too. before he left he made himself one of the oiliest, crunchest p&j's on toasted sourdough bread anyones ever seen, two hours later at the skatepark he broke out in hives and turned
beet red...
donald was petting a cat outside on the dock the cats relied on boat owners to feed them.
there must of been a dozen or so cats down there. donald greeted barry and unlocked the door, and headed out
"where do you want to skate?"

"I thought you wanted to go to the park?"

"yea, okay"

"I'm kinda low on gas"

"I can float you a couple bucks"

with that agreed barry thought okay I can get a couple bucks bring it back to E
with just enough fumes to peddal me home.
they got in the car and barry played donald the new material he was working on in the studio
donald liked it.
when they got to the park they met some city kids and skated for a good two hours
then when they decided to go back to the boat and drink and smoke weed because
the weather was to hot, at least for donald barry spent enough time in the humitiy of the midwest to know a perfect sunny day like this one. they hopped in the car and barry jerked the key back in for in the ignition
but nothing
"I'm out of gas."

"how low where you?"

"about two days of driving on E"

"what are we gonna do"

"I can call lilly to pick us up"

barry knowing this wasn't the best of options seeing as she was sick of opening the pocket book up
and bailing him out like a 2nd term failed president...
donald let barry use his phone, barry dialed.
when lilly picked up she was talking on skype to her friend in germany
and the tone of barry's vocie gave away his failure.
"I ran out of gas."

"I knew it. I knew you were gonna run out of gas."

"honey its I knew you were going to run out of gas."

"whatever, I'm not going to help you out, find a another way, where is the skatepark ?"

"google it."

"its not coming up, I'm not going to do it, I can't I gotta go to work
do you know how much stress this is for me."
lilly was conflicted.

"I'll try to find another way."

barry didn't know another way
he was stuck.
the phone conversation lasted a good 15miinute enough time for lilly to come and get them
but barry's and google's directions where too much for her at that juncture.

so barry told donald that they'd have to find another way to get home so they
packed all the belongings, valuables under the passenger seat locked the doors and
set foot to the pavement. along the way barry and donald found three new skatespots they wouldn't of found
if they drove. next donald couldn't take the heat so they'd have to find a hose to cool off and get a drink they found a drinking
fountain about three miles up. at the community college and then they cont. walking for another three miles before donald had to stop again this time they found gold in the form of the grand street bait and tackle
a hole in the wall dive bar oh yea and bait shop. They walked in and asked what would two dollars get them
and the bartener a slender mexican woman in her late 30s said they had cans of soda. donald asked
"what about beer?"

she said "sure two cans, over on the side in the cooler."

donald went and retrieved two cans of coors and she was going to put them a bag and warned them of being caught in public for open containers...."we'll drink em here."
barry and donald made there way through the darkness of the a dimly lit bar at 3:40 in the afternoon.
out side there was a little table with an ash tray and they sat down and opened heaven.
"the universe is smiling down on us."
donald said.

"sure is, we've stumbled into some kind of vortex and found the last place on earth to give us
beer for our last bit of spare change, the universe is really on our side."
barry commented as they toasted the best beer they ever earned.
after shitting around and talking about the events that transpired in the last 24 hrs they decided to
drink gin and tonics and smoke weed as soon as they got to donald's boat...which they did hours later
lilly called back and said she would pick barry up reluctantly
for this posed to be one of the many adventure that would transpire over the next two years.

black hole space black out

the last thing I was told before the collapse of our universe
was

" be sure to flush."

the vast vacuum of carbon doesn't
omit the fact that the poop
wouldn't stick to the inside of stars or gaseous matter
of heaven... if god is the future
mankind is the past


gather the masses tell them that the economy
is the least of our problems
the poop is piling up and no one
wants to become a garbage-man


remember


"be sure to flush"

halos and sinners of post mordern decay (a study of...)

simple
teeth
smile between the mirror
brushing away the languished
exhausted brow of the vendor
on the side of bancroft selling hot dogs
the banks are gonna shut down
the prophecy of past will
be seen and the money changer's system
will collapse into a billfold of coins
that won't fill a soda machine
or buy a candy bar

god forbid the use of our hands
into the dirt to create what he has given us
to eat...this is the greatest sin of man
to pay for processed foods that
keep our lives in disarray
and hinder the natural growth of the earths most natural
resource

FOOD


this system that they built is worth nothing
means nothing and will return to nothing


mock the hobo's words

"gotta dollar fo a mickey?"

reach into the wallet and get him drunk
for tomorrow sobriety
will come in the form of a park bench

the sorrow of a broken eagle wing

spit kickin
shit talking
FOOL

the world in all its splendor
rejects you

the women want nothing from
your lips

the men
want you locked up

the
higher educated want to understand
your obsession with failure

the poets
always
wanted your lips
sealed with
blah blah
blah

the
relinquished death
of your father's
legacy
your
mother's
health
the
credit
cards
max'd


you've failed the system
and the way of the world
rolls
its grip over your
frail stomach
the lower class
has been
isolated from the starving finger tips
of the middle class

and i watch my pride
get humiliated
in front of
the watch tower
of airport control
the road won't have me
______ who
________________________will?

I've been squandered
by convention
and convoluted
by technology

if I Die
open to suggestions
then I'll shrivel under a sun
that held a judgement
of character
in a pin needle
I'm the last
bull headed
die_hard
free man

and they'll have me

locked up in
two or three hours

bombs away
bombs away
calm
souls
and fishing line
the reels in the catch of
a
killer
the
insanity helps
figure out the
pain
by sinking teeth into

the skin of a mad man
gone soft


I've lost my way

too long ago
was peace in the heart
now
the
ache
of
let
downs,
hardships,
depression,

keep the nights
long
the
days
even longer
the
killjoy of it all

the dinosaur and me

fossil fuel farts
raggedy untrimmed beard
the
woman's fur and cave
need
refurnishing
the
meat on the fire
is small of a
t rex
baby

the
cave gets
moved
every
winter


the job
is
filed
under
hunting and gathering

the
waist
expands
and de-expands

the
grass need
a
mow

the computer
buried in the stone
has its place
in the
slow ram
of
a
poor man

the hand
of the
giant
is foiled

by the
slingshot

the underdog
of
the post millennium

computer trees

THE BUILDING WAS OLD, RATTY, AND RUSTED
THE FRONT DOOR CREAKED WHEN OPENED...
THE OLD MAN BEER GUT
WALKED THROUGH ITS ANCIENT
VORTEX
AND SAW HIS WAY TO THE RECEPTIONIST'S
DESK

"EXCUSE ME, CAN YOU DIRECT ME TO UNEMPLOYMENT?"

"YES SIR, ITS DOWN THE HALL 3RD DOOR ON YRR LEFT."

THE OLD MAN PEERED DOWN THE HALL AND SAW A
MASSIVE LINE STRETCHED TO THE END OF HEAVEN
AND MET WITH HIS HELL.

"OLD LEGS MIGHT NOT MAKE IT."

CHUCKLING IN MORNING SADNESS
THE SUN N'VER RISES WHEN
THE DARK DEPTH OF DEATH
SEE'S ITS WAY TO THE WAKING LIFE
THE MORTAL MAN IS IN TROUBLE

"NEXT...HELLO SIR HOW MAY i HELP YOU?"

"WELL, i NEED TO COLLECT SOME SORT OF CHECK
FOR THE POSSIBILITY OF FOOD AND WINE,
AS YOU KNOW THESE ARE SOME TROUBLING TIMES."

"YES SIR PLEASE FILL OUT FORM 1078 LINES 12 THROUGH 56
THEN SIGN AND BRING IT BACK UP HERE TO THE FRONT DESK, NEXT!"

SITTING IN THAT SEAT WAS THE OLD MAN'S DEFEAT
THE LASTING DREAM OF THIS AMERICA HAS FAILED HIM
AND HIS FELLOW
MAN

WORKING FOR WHAT?
THE YOUTH SEEM TO PARTY
THE NIGHT INTO THE DAY AND FEEL FREE ENOUGH
TO LAY IN A COMA TOASTDIGITAL CENTURY
THE OLD MAN FINISHED
LINES 12 THROUGH 56
SIGNED IT AND SENT BACK TO THE DESK.

"ALL DONE, OKAY GOD WILL SEE YOU SOON. PLEASE HAVE A SEAT."



FINISHED

economic hardship is the way of the road

bumper stickers
_________________
_________________
food ISN'T
for dinner
the belly
needs fuel
we are what the democracy
failed
and the great American hope
leaves...

bumper stickers
________________
________________

the earth the green
green eco living machine
is failing us
we hope the future for
our children
is seagulls
and sand
without
the human
condition

bumper stickers
________________
________________

the fishes
the gods
the battle
for the
creator
the neutral
atheist honks
cursing
gods


bumper stickers
________________
________________

my
bumper
is being
sold
soon
to
see
the sky
and moon at night
and the
food
is
for
the belly

end
the world

end


the
________
_____________BUMPER STICKER
WAR
OF THE WORLDS

the life back home isn't anything but a fireplace

a few of my brethren and sisters
know
the small-fish town
watering hole
where the beer
is the same
and the
sunsets and fireflies meet dusk

then those that truly get it see the world
the lasting way, by service.
their more noble kind
than myself

the rum and coke, the no sleep eyes
that crash and burn in wheels
of cars they didn't own
and time is coming
for another close
home hit

so the stargazers shoot across
skies in aero planes
of glee then
fade into space
wouldn't let
them
hold me down

captain

a selfish space monkey
freedom does exist
if you don't see
the fence...

the sleep in eyes is not the dust in dreams

foolish man
foolish boy
what is to be said about the
wrong of man
that would
reflect back in eyes of dismay
and dpression
t
h
e

last word we saw of this nature
was the last of a dying breed
of digital men and robot
fingers

I don't know if i belong to this
crazy man hunt
or the racing rat

the
truth is
fame isn't a door bell
to wealth

nor is the
creativity flawless

so they cover up there disfunction
with stressed muscles and
out stretched bitter
prude hands empty

love

was

washed away
in a wave of failure
welcome to

the shell

wings of a nun stay grounded in none

_____________________________we talked
________________________and found the

____________________chalk board filled with
_________naughty nature
_
___________________________________the kind that

_____________________lil children
________________________draw

_____________piss-pants
________and
______________________this
________and
______________________that

_____________i miss my spirit
_____while I feed
______________________the nature

____________such is like
________________________a
________________________child on a chalk
_____board

____without rewards only
_____punishment
________________can reveal the disciplines
____of a revolutionary
____that
____has
____stock piled
____________a arsenal
______of regrets
____________________and misfourtunes





I need to realize the
dance club
where shy men
hold tongues
b/c of beauty
that hasn't
formally
been
touched COME UNDONE



for elly

the clock is a shining memory of age

24 fl. OZ
of coors light
pumps through the keyboard

out shits a

barely wheat wit

that slurs his hatred
and consumes the good nature of
everyone

around him

belly
gut


button
love

if a child
was to come in this world
right now
he wouldn't know what to
say but
"kid, the bottle that feeds you never leaves yr lips
even at my age."

his/her big blue eyes
and drool slipping out the side-
smile would
look
back
and finally
feel
the nature
which sits is in us


ALL

if the lights and camera are rolling I'm ready for my close up

"...I'm a actor."

"what roles have you played."
..................she looks into certainty

"well, I acted like I was in a good relationship, was a nice charming fellow,
a good writer...the list really goes on."


butterfly glamor shots
was in
make up
for
hours

till they finally put a coat of
happy on soooo thick
my balls' profusely drip
sweat

the last dying leg of reality was shipped out through
doors
that
shut
on
me
like
a
bad
script
in
a
exec's office

the mail room clerk comes in...
{enter stage left with bag of cocaine}

" Mr. so-so super star, yr on in 5."

rushing lights I"ve been on set since
6am
and now you want
me to shower down
the golden
talent
of the
Greek gods?

musicman

he'd
bang on loud
drums
saying

things
like
'jesus will be here when we're dead or def'

but would they come true
would there be a sinner in all of us?
he'd cash in on the brown velet sand-skin
mattress under the overpass
he'd ask for crack-handouts
and lite trash at night
he
didn't look like
a
prophet
just
a
homeless
man
with lil
luck
and
a
stench
that
never
attracted
a
bee hive
of
behind
ass

I'm not
sure
prophets
care
about
ass


i sure
the
hell
do...

the end is the best, if the start never clicked

she
_________hogs
the pillows and blankets

its
not
the first time
i had to deal
with the
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ §§§§§§§§§§§ ....... leaving
of long lips,
or the legs that had me wrapped
around and clutched.
a fashion of constriants
it was the first real time
i felt that the
world would
enclose on myself.
and the only thing
I could show for anything
was that
I had a dying love of the
arts and song.
no woman would stop
the writing
no matter how they tried to change me...
it couldn't be done
over night or in
a days of yelling

in daze of
```````````````````` uncertainty
I wept for her because
i saw
her for the helpless
hopeless puppy eyed
clench
the
dog bowl
of dried food
untouched,
the water with hair
in it.
the door would open and the mutt
would run and jump up and down
humping my leg
and finally I saw it...the end
was in sight

freedom
is the spirit
of
wanders
and panhandlers

I wish
to be
poor
so
I tapped
my heels
three times
and
said
"there's no place like
the road"

life's short

"I don't care about
that kinda shit.
I'm going to die
and
that
couch
will still be here.
I mean,
what's the point...



not life.

the couch."

lost shoe lace

"it
wasn't
my
fault
that
the
donkey
of
the
city
would
kick
yr ass"

tom
was
a
drunk,
not a mean one,

but
a
drunk
he'd
push
people
over
piss
himself
punch
friends
stab
the
carpet
and
cry

when
the
crowds
left

he
knew
he
lost
something


a
comedy
show
laughter
is sought
out
by
fools
but
__________the
crowd
goes numb

just then,
tom
holds
his
dick
and crop dust's
the whole front row

blaming life
going
hard
on some
girl's
24
birthday

youth group 92'

"HEY GANG!
listen up,
quiet... i need yr attention
remeber to pack warm for the ski trip to moon dance mountain."

moondance was this sorry excuse for a ski resort in iowa
it was a little hill w/a couple snow-making machines
that pump'd out
soft white
fanatasy flakes
for the poor farm kids
to
fall/slide down

"the trip is gonna be way cool
we got some alone times planned for the guys."
the youth paster dan tells us
we sigh*******

"and the girls are gonna go with my
wife ann"

dan's wife never kissed him till
the alter you wouldn't see em
hold hands or barely smile at each other
this made attending these events more grousome.
along side the hymns and the bible applicatable
teen-age scripture

as to say here
HERE's a WAY to deal with the
drugs and sex topics
the same way jesus
would deal with shit?

kids at that age want to cause
rukus and grow
like
wild
devils

the ones that remained
lacked
the
knowledge
cuz
they
never risked the pain and hurt of suffering
under the truth of
freedom+++++

ann shoemocker
was
to be
dan bownski's
love affair

dan was
an aging
mid 30s
born again, gut staring down
the signs of demesication
old class clown that
found
chirst


where was the son of man
hiding?????
an old relinguished
teenage
tom
hanks like in BIG

he never had the spotlight
but was
"redeemed" under a
"higher calling"

who makes the call
is it an angel
"oh yeah dan this is saint peter
no, no the one at the gate....
what gate?...heaven...yep...no...well
its about your calling."

the godly ministry
of the church to god
and away from the ills
of society's sinners
he was the same kinda
of guy that had a
chirstian youth news
article on
how to talk
the
hip new lingo
that the kids where sayin
but it was always three years
late on slang
and had know connecting value in the reality
of the childerns lifes'

this was my youth my shaping of
vaules

a revolutionary internet hacker

reform....for those who think wisedom
is skin deep
look through the hearts of men

to find
spirits....that keep us inspired

you capture the mind


wait till the body decays...



spirit is all
one
will
be
left
with
.
.
.
keep shining
yr spirit
soon
you
could
free
the island...

keep strong

keep up the war

modern poets

modern poets are dull
========= and only seem to focus
on some inner
shallow
monologue,
that only strings
the reader along
with a jr high

dance equivalent


wishing
to
grab the
female's ass
and cop

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\||||||||||||||||a feel of virginity before


it leaves their little penis'
________________________hard for candy

they forgot about
the soft depreciated flabby skin
that holds their
slimline-cased souls in

if they were to let go maybe, just maybe


they could remember
it ain't about
the pussy
but the
elegant
dance
of a
:::::::::::: ballroom

and then
they could
truly

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::Dance their
little
lives
*************************away

poor genius

I'm A GENIUS


that's what barry wants on his tombstone

"I want the world to know"
he's not like the fools at the market place

you see leaving with a nights meal. no.

he was a gentlemen lover of many women
in his young prime, now pot belly sinks low and the eyes
black
bags
as
if
too
say
*************
*************
***********&*
& to the races!!!!



...nothing of that sort
this was more dangerous.

"barry's been off to college
for the last five years and never had

a
cavity."



his

mother

told

st
ra
ngers

th
is

almost everyday
and
he'd___________
hold
his nuts
on the dinning room table
after dinner


and laugh at the lot

"yr all a bunch of sissy's and cowards..."

no one paid mind

barry was just having it out
w/ the Big guy...you know?...God.


thats what mother told people

big

DOWNFALLS

ADD

UP

WELCOM
E
TO


THE PICTURE SHOW.

back in the day

remeber when

we gave two shits

the poetry was better
and
the women use to flock
doves flap in broken wind
the lake-brown-water
where swans sit
are polluted
the streets
are
taco trucks
and flat gum
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
...
...
.......the need to rember when
time was bout
GI joes
and soakin
them in
hair spray
...
...
...
****
lighting
the
match

and

watching the world

burn
to the
ground

"hold on my Iphone
is Idialing in my pocket
and My Ieye in Iblind"

the

remembering of a simple
childhood pile of
leaves
in a digital
photo
of
Igreengrassinthemiddleofwinterandthe
picture


is



blurred

welcome
to
memories

"mushroom head welcome to the information age."

the night was
long

like those days that
never end.
but if you see the sun rise
while playing a casio keyboard,
you picked up in Denver
at an arc thrift store,
while with yer ole
lady shopping for the
trinkets of joy,
then you'd know
that this night was all about the
lights and the
highs

and the sesame honey covered cashews
and the
starburst jelly beans of joy
that made (mixed with the weed, beer, shrooms,and valum)
the belly ache

constant trips to the bathroom
to
see if yr face melted completely
and fell into yr heart
and morphed
to a beating lust
of self


then we can talk
of

what

joy

was
robbed

when

we

assumed
that the world was going to end

and we hadn't seen the old country
of men wrinkled at the sight of the new world
she told me the euro
was good to her

and a bed was made just waiting for me

.
.
.
good night

6am
sunrise over oakland
the stems and caps
wore
off...back to

slumber-all-salty-the night
semen didn't stick to our
visions of ego

ready aim fire


this

is
to
be
the sure

shot of

hell

wooden nickels

wooden nickels

balloon
throat

bubble-skin

troubble
keeping

the


air___________IN

needles
poke

hives

to die


close to death

sigh


why

not

this
time

so
elusive
the
woodennickel
it just can't buy

that
luck


deth
is
the
hustle


live is the scam

and
lambs
blood
stains
the front door

chewing
on
wooden

nickels

wooden nickels

THE ROOM

WAS
WHITE

AND HAD THESE SHELL-LIKE
SHEETS THAT HUNG TO KEEP
THE DYING FROM SEEING THE LIVING
I WAS GOING TO BE EITHER
NOT SURE OF MY SHEET
THE NURSE
ENTERED
AND ASKED ABOUT
THE BREATHING
"WELL ITS BEEN HARD TO BREATHE
SINCE THE PEANUTBUTTER AND JELLY SANDWICH
THAT I MADE THREE HOURS AGO"

AT THAT TIME FIVE NURSES
STROLLED IN
AND STARTED
FILLING MY ARMS
WITH BEAUTIFUL
NEEDLES
AND THEN
THEY LEFT ME TO SLEEP
IN A DRUGGED COMA
OF RELAXATION
THEN THEY GAVE ME PILLS
AND SENT ME ON MY WAY I HAVEN'T SLEPT IN FIVE DAYS
AND
I THINK

#########
#########
THINK
I'D

RATHER
EAT A
ANOTHER PEANUTBUTTER
AND
JAM
SAM

AND NEVER
BREATHE
THE SMOG IN
AGAIN


WOODEN
NICKELS
ARE
POSION
THAT
WAS
THE BEST
DEATH
ONE COULD
HOPE
FOR

excerpt from new short story

Barry was blue, not sad, but bright blue.
he wore a lime green scarf with a checkered blue and white collared
shirt. his girlfriend bought his clothes mostly at the salvation army.
his girlfriend was skinny,akward, and referred to as the junk lady by most the town's
inhabitants. When they would drive around getting lost in the nearby cities
he'd yell at the top of his lungs "FIX YR FUCKIN STREETS DENVER!!!!!"
as they sunk in each pot hole. While driving over the speed limit by 8 miles, this was thier first rocky mountain adventure barry had been on since his days with the missionaries of his humble parish. In the foothills of the small village where he spent most of his devloping adolessence. when growning up he felt like he was unlike anyone.
Execpt when he was 12 yrs old he slipped his tongue on liqour and the neighborhood
was the stomping ground of fools. they'd run inside and get their fathers .357 handguns and point them at barry.
Mostly out of envy and jealously for barry was a true freeman, a true free spirit.
Unhindered by conventions or regulations

"anyone would hate someone with such vigor!"
he'd tell the junk lady
while turning down colfax
on the way to the riteaid to purchase chirstmas cards and hair brushes.
On nights barry had to hold down his part time job...his girl would go to the store and pick up some food at the local market.
she'd make
salads, tacos, mac n' chesse, homemade pizzas...
they ate on an air matress and watched
007 the ones with roger moore.
"I quite like this one...where dr. no's
layer is deep in the swizz alps..."
the junk lady would say
before thumb sucking and hair twirling would commense.
she told barry that the thumb sucking claimed her down.

....."it clams me."

why? yah look stupid doing it."

Well...I've been doing it for 25 fuckin years!!!"

"that's my probelm with it. you're 25!"


if they ever argued it was over trivial things like this.
Barry would masterbate whenever he could, usually when lilly
was in the shower once he did his dirty deed into a tissue.
then when the shower water turned off. ubruptly tuck his blue vien back into
his boxers, shove the kleenex in his left pants pocket.
the next day at the supermarket barry reached in his left pocket and sure enough pulled out a dry crusty tissue of self loathing.
It was right by the meat alse...self conscious of the fishy smell he picked
up a pack of shrimp...
"let's cook this with rice and a nice wine."
lilly was an excellent cook
she spent most of her time in the kitchen
mixing spices and herbs into grains and sauces.
the food always tickled Barry's throat and gut.
they'd spend an average of 40$ a week on booze.
Barry would drink white russians, Long Islands,mudslides, liqour 43,
jack and cokes, by the time Barry was 29 he already had two beer guts and was
working on a 3rd.
"mostly saving up for a rainy day with the grand children."

motel 6 blues

I'm
__________just a

cheap
******* bar********
of

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$thin



soap


paper
white
towels

interchangable
lights
switch


re
enforced
locks

the envy

of

skid
row

the
road

home
toad
of
long
suffering

three days
where the
highway

from the
70 (east)

to

the

80
(west)
^^^^^^cable channel stuck on
++++ cartoon
networks^^^^^^^^
to

the

61
north
54
west
35
south

40
west

5
north

580

880

80
....just a bar of soap
not scented
not
cared
for

disregarded
and

fresh linens

after I placed
that
room card
on the
counter

"room 221...room 229..."

"how much
for
one
halo?"


>>>>>>>>>>>>"that'll be 35.99 plus tax..."


weary eyes cloud
"I take it."

I
first
tried to sleep
at
a
rest stop
next
to truckers

with their
lights dimed
and televisions

playng::::::::}}}}}{{{{{{



american flags
tacked up
to
cover
the
sunlight

road
warrior-nomads

they
speak in
tongues