Wednesday, June 30, 2010


i loved him
he took me for haircuts
sat me down on bar stools
life was a coke...and a bag-of-chips
a bowling machine
waitresses with too much makeup
we watched baseball games...
i never crossed him
he always demanded respect
he smelled of whiskey
and old cigarette smoke
he gambled all the time
i got used to my mother arguing with him...
her tears, and regrets...
men sometimes came looking for him
sometimes we ate steak...
other times we ate noodles
he was a lousy provider
a bad example
but he never lied to me
he gave me good advice
he got sick
but kept on working
he died young
but he looked old
i remember his behavior
at the end...
he started giving things away
he sat without legs
in a wheel chair
he never complained
he kept his sense of humor
now, he drank coffee...
instead of whiskey
he still smoked his cherished cigarettes
he always read the sports section...
and continued to play the ponies
he never said he loved me
he didn't have to...
i knew he did.

Monday, June 28, 2010


i sit in the basement and do nothing.
this cancerous mold, grows in my lungs.
i do not care.
the sunshine is outside.
i do not seek it.
i'd rather languish in filth...
old playboy magazines
shitty art
subversive books
old business cards
crap everywhere...
i should bag it all...
throw it out.
yet, i can't part with any of it.
i might be throwing away my soul.
what if there's an idea in this miasma of shit?
dried up tubes of paint are saved...
brushes with one bristle
ancient national geographics
art magazines
pornographic pictures of ugly females
taken with my nikon.
i belong with my filth.
there's a strange beauty in this hideous collection.
i search for my soul, down here.
i remember all the voices.
billie holliday
janis joplin
dave van ronk
all went into the void...
without finding their souls.
in the head.
we are dead...
in our rooms...
in basements...
in moldy darkness...
when we could go outside...
in the sunlight.
why do we do these things
to ourselves?
to humanity?
the whole world...
is a dark basement now.
what's the point?
we'll never know.
i'll never know.
you'll never know.
i stay in my basement.
don't give me god.
out of body experiences
it's all for passing time...
waiting for the bus of death.
we're clawing at unanswerable questions.
it's all bullshit at a certain point in time.
i stay in my dark basement.
i'm better off here...
than in the world.


Stuart Brent died on June 24th, 2010.
He was 98 years old....
a book lover...
a book seller...
He loved Chicago and its authors and readers.
He took time to help me, in his store.
He was a book readers friend.
He was a book writers friend.
He knew all the greats and not-so-greats...
Nelson Algren
Studs Terkel
Ben Hecht
Saul Bellow
George Plimpton
Philip Roth
and me.
He treated us all with indomitable enthusiasm,
and joy, because we shared his passion...
Mr. Brent had to close his doors
on Chicago's Michigan Avenue, in the 90's.
No one wanted to read too much anymore.
It was a sad day for me.
It was a sad day for Chicago.
It was a sad day for all book lovers.
I will miss you Mr. Brent...
as will the world miss you.

Sunday, June 27, 2010


colors and shapes dominate my days.
seeing, re-arranging, preparing my prototype...
putting my personal jigsaw puzzle together.
i concentrate for one twenty-four hour period.
i must not forget the auditory...
nor ignore the olfactory senses.
do i want bombastic noise or gentle sounds?
do my taste buds long for sweet, salty, sour?
maybe i want them all...
but just in the right measure.
each day is my symphony.
i must be a keen conductor.
if i do not exert proper control...
if i favor one musician over another,
my sweet song turns into utter chaos.
i am not a dissonance appreciator.
my life is not angry jazz...
nor is it syrupy melodies.
new situations always must be considered.
i have to make adjustments of my machine.
i need my equilibrium.
i do the best i can.
i work one day at a time.
each day is a jewel.
i must treat them with respect.
i string them all together.
i try to create a beautiful necklace.
these thoughts, dominate my days.

Saturday, June 26, 2010


3 hours on the road
to some sweaty coffee house
in damned chicago traffic!
i pay $3.75 for parking
"da mares" new strong arm tactic
5 people hear me read
the owner was thrown out of her old building
by the bank of america
it figures
a spend $7 in gas
$1.75 on a coke
my profit is maybe a buck
for 5 hours of work
i ought to wash dishes
the warm water would relax me
i could watch the departing buttocks
of tired waitresses
as they leave me with dirty bus pans
and scrungy dishes...
and knives and forks
that wound my hands
nail me to the cross
the arts are dead
my heart screams
to me, it was worth it
not many do it anymore
or do it well
it was my night to shine

Wednesday, June 23, 2010


get rid of the mercedes
the martini's at nine-bucks a pop
give up the social arena
it's all bullshit anyway
screw the high-priced home in the burbs
don't kow-tow to your asshole boss
strip it down
take off that funky-assed coat and tie
get your lame ass outside
put on some jeans and flannel shirts
drink in dive bars
buy that Harley you always wanted
cash in your chips
buy a cheapo double-wide trailer
you don't need much more
move on out to the desert
breathe in the fresh air
it's cleaner than the city out there
go fishing and hunting
chop some wood
learn how to grow veggies
get a good yeller dog
butcher a hog
invite your new redneck friends
for a party every night
life is good
when you strip it down


i'm aghast at the cast...
of clowns and hobos...
in travelin' shows,
who try to do me in.
there's a great gnashing of teeth...
i won't succumb to defeat.
i know you're out there!

they come willy-nilly to attack.
i never slack.
i watch my back.
i go for the throat.
clinging to hope,
that i won't go down.

they all want to be greased,
rabbis and priests...
building inspectors,
and tax collectors.
my house of cards...
aint gonna' fall down.
not as long as i'm around.
i fight this good fight,
with all of my might.

eyes wide open like Ali.
i sting like a bee.
take that! you bastards!
my slippery ways,
put them in a haze.
my elderly plays,
amaze them all.
they are a ruse.
i got plenty of juice!

i believe in me!
can't you see?
i'm one, tough, old buck.
i ain't out o' luck...yet.
so bring your best stuff on!
drop that big bomb!
right on my chin.
and to your chagrin...
i'm still gettin' up to...
fuck you up!

i got old man muscle...
a brain that can hustle.
so come on, you clowns,
i'll always rebound.
i'm set in my ways.
i'll never be fazed...
by your insane attacks.
i'll keep comin' back.
'cause i'm one, tough,
treacherous, summa-na-bitch.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010


I want to speak to this congregation.
All of you listen to what I have to say.
You are a conglomeration of hypocrits!
That's right!
All of you, sit and listen!
For your are hypocrits!
My moral affiliations are none of your concern.
I won't adhere to your perverse damnification,
of the TRUE written word, or the arts...
or the Constitution of the United States of America.
Truth and only truth, will lead to the citizen's emancipation
from false gods.
Your deifications and evangelizations are evil,
and worn out.
It's a new world order, you "finger pointing dinosaurs"!
Better take a good look in the mirror and be indicted for:
and commiserations with fellow hypocrits.
Your continuation to lie to us in media manipulations...
won't fly!
Your dissemination of fear,
and the documentation of your evil deeds,
will make it all clear.
All your paltry attempts at deodorization...
will lead to your excommunication.

You hereby will be punished for:
The exfolitation of our forests.
The asphyxiation of our citizenry,
due to our dependence of gasoline and oil.
The annihalation of our wildlife.
The appointments of blood relations,
and cronies to bureaucratic positions.
The commiseration of corporates and
politicos with agendas to steal from the people,
who entrust you with sacred duties.
The condemnation of the middle class.
The confiscation of guns and properties.
Self aggrandization.
The defraudation of the American public.
The deportation of American soldiers,
who served honorably in our American military.
The formation of private clubs which foster...
Statistics and generalizations which are constructed...
to deceive.
Last but not least, you will be incarcerated for...
the impersonation that you tried to pull off...
as "so-called" servants of the People of the United States...
of America...So be it!

Monday, June 21, 2010


The guy told me he'd get me a tv...
a "five-finger discount".
You know what I mean?
He told me, "A tv fell off the truck".
I trusted him.
Why not?
I took him around with me....
introduced him to some influential people.
I bought him breakfast.
I peeled off four C-notes...
and put them in his greasy palm.
That was last November.
Now, it's almost July.
Still no tv.
It was going to be a Christmas present, for my wife.
Whenever I talk to this guy,
he tells me his is coming over...
to make a payment.
He never shows up.
He's done this to me, 5 or 6 times.
He's fucking me.
I don't like getting fucked, without a kiss.
I sure wouldn't want to kiss this asshole.
I gotta' let it go.
forgive him...
forget him...
but it is tough.
I keep looking at the baseball bat in my garage.
I must not put it to use.
He aint worth it.
My action would be despicable.
If I broke his knee caps,
I'd be as low as him.
I should have listened to my wife.
She says, "Cheaters never prosper".
How'd she get so damned smart?
The true measure of a man,
is how honest he is, in relations with his friends.
My word has always been my bond.
My old man taught me to be this way.
When people tell me they are going to do something,
I believe them.
I am a man or my word.
Why shouldn't I believe the words of other people?
I guess times have changed.
Don't leave your bills or pocket change on the bar,
when you go to the bathroom.
It might not be there when you come back.

Saturday, June 19, 2010


I'm wigged out, man.
Maybe it's the age on me.
Everything disturbs me.
I can't read the newspaper anymore.
It's too depressing.
I'm a masochist I guess...
'cause I read it anyway.
I'm wigged out by taxes,
building permits,
most dictums by government,
and all of the senseless prattle on tv.
Why don't they just crucify me?
Nail my gnarly, old ass to a tree.
Get it over with.
I'm sick of inanity and insanity.
I doubt my own mental faculties.
Maybe I'M the problem.
Naw, I'm just wigged out.
I always worked toward goals.
I achieved most of them.
Now the powers that be...
are trying to take things away from me.
This wigs me out, 'cause the wags are out.

I guess I'll look at the trees.
Their green leaves relax me.
The sun still shines.
The "man in the moon" is still there.
His face hasn't changed.
These are constants that I like.
After we all wig out...
and destroy ourselves...
Mother Earth will be damaged.
But, she will begin healing.
'Cause we won't be around,
to wig her out.

New life forms will emerge.
The oceans will begin to mend.
The forests will begin to replenish themselves.
We won't be missed.
So don't wig out.
Just co-exist.
Maybe, we can reverse the cataclysmic process...
The evil deeds that men do to themselves,
and sweet Mother Earth.
Maybe it isn't too late,
for me and you.
Don't wig out.
Just do the next, right thing.

Friday, June 18, 2010


I won today at Burger King.
I order two Junior Whoppers.
I think I paid, $2.39.
I noticed on the drive-thru window...
a posted sign, which said:
"If we don't give you a receipt,
we will give you a $5 gift certificate.
I always check my fast-food bags for napkins.
Lo and behold, there was no receipt!
I informed the cashier.
She told me to pull over to the front of the establishment.
I felt a little cheap, and sheepish.
She stared daggers at me...
as she handed over a five-dollar bill.
"Wow", I thought..."This is better than a gift certificate!"
I felt sorry for the cashier.
Then I realized, this is a good lesson for her to learn.
She must learn about American Capitalism.
I rationalized away my greed, and insensitivity.
I happily pulled away with a full belly,
and an extra $2.50 or so, in my pocket.
I made it my business to be extra careful in traffic.
Sometimes bad Karma can be a bitch!

Thursday, June 17, 2010


his negative thoughts came quickly.
his mind would not rest.
his heart beat very fast,
in the chasm of his chest.
a pernicious evil...
he did feel.
nowhere to run,
nowhere to hide,
nowhere to kneel...
in terror.
was it an error god made?
this man of malaise.
he wrung his hands,
for days and days.
angry or blue,
these thoughts would not leave.
what was he to do?
drink, killed them for a while.
then he could smile,
forget it all,
the fearful squall.
but the morrow would come,
and summon the scum
of negative thought.
he lived this way,
for the rest of his days.
self-fabricated fear,
irrationally near,
at every moment.
he finally sighed,
when his spirit died.
he denied his redemption.
it was his fate,
to wait the wait,
for the spectre to come.
it made him numb,
and carried him away.
it was his own head,
that killed him dead,
for what it was fed,
was heavy as lead.
he should have lightened his load,
so he was told.
the die was cast.
he just could't last,
with negative thoughts.
he knew he had lost.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010


my dreams are of you.
but how can we connect?
two of us of different souls...
traveling, holding hands,
through time.
how can i perceive?
i do not own your eyes,
or see what you see.
i want to merge,
into oneness with you.
on all levels, let us be...
two cells as one.
this is a heavy love.
why can't we have it another way?
reality throws the wrench,
into our gears.
our love is always slightly off kilter.
our machine breaks down.
there are tears.
where is our salvation?
but we will endure.
we share dreams.
i guess that is enough.

Monday, June 14, 2010


animals don't steal.
they don't torture.
they cannot lie or deceive.
they only kill to defend themselves,
or when they are frightened or hungry.
(although cats play with things...
that end up dead.)
I don't think mr. or mrs. cat,
realizes this transgression.
domestic animals are faithful friends.
they are always glad to see us.
they don't talk behind our backs.
they don't assasinate our characters.
animals don't pretend they are happy to see us,
when in reality they really hate us.
a human being knows where he stands...
with an animal.
conversely, an animal never knows,
how he will be human beings.
even when it is beaten and mistreated,
an animal will forget...
and be a friend to a mean human being...
up to a certain point.
some animals will fight to the death,
to protect his humans.
very few human beings would sacrifice their lives,
for a cherished pet.
humans kill animals relentlessly...
for fun,
for profit,
for food,
for sadism,
and a plethora of other reasons.
this reality happens 24/7...
all over the world.
an animal rarely kills a human being.
domestic animals are loyal, fun-loving and grateful.
some human beings lack the ability to be loyal,
complain about not having enough fun,
and usually aren't grateful about anything.
most animals are great parents,
and take care of their brood.
some humans have been known to drown,
and murder their children in beastly ways.
i wonder why we humans,
with so many skills,
rational minds,
and the capacity to do so much good
on this "spaceship earth",
choose to do so much evil?
we call the gentle ones...animals.
i think THEY should be called...
the true human beings.
for we are more animal-like in our ways.
we are destroying ourselves.
we are destroying mother earth,
and her bounty.
we are destroying the animals.
we defend our actions with words.
words are often twisted by human beings,
soliciting ends through evil means.
animals don't use words.
i like animals.


this time she left her lights on.
sometimes she loses her purse,
or has other remarkable tragedies.
she's twenty-eight years old, by god.
she's supposed to answer her cell phone.
i visualize myself with jumper cables,
leaning over a car engine,
in the pouring rain.
i am pissed off.
there is grease on my hands.
then theres the damed, new-fangled battery covers.
you have to wrench a bunch of bolts
to expose the battery terminals.
i need this on a late saturday afternoon,
like another hole in my head.
i might have to get my buddies jumper cables,
to make sure i have enough length.
i will attach them to mine, yeah.
i'm lucky, that i'm parked next to her.
she and my wife are at a baby shower.
i keep looking out the window.
i want to inform my daughter,
to turn the cars lights off,
before she tries to turn it over.
ah!...there she is!
i run across the street...legs hurting.
i'm sucking hot, humid air.
she's ignoring my pleas!
luckily, her car turns over.
now, i'm waving my arms at her.
i'm screaming, "don't shut it off"!!!
she shuts it off anyway.
she tells me to quit yelling at her,
in front of the neighbors.
ignoring me now, she runs into the bathroom,
and slams the door.
this reminds me of her teen years.
i scream at her.
"this has been your problem, all your life!"
"you have no respect for me"...
"you never take my advise"...
"now you can suffer the consequences!"
"you can call for a tow-truck,
if the god-damned car doesn't start!"

the car starts.
it did it just to prove me wrong.
i feel like an asshole, now.
i storm into the living room.
she leaves without saying, "goodbye".
i turn on the tv.
the white sox beat the cubs.
i feel better now.
my wife is ignoring me.
damn kid.

Sunday, June 13, 2010


i was 5 years old
alcoholic father
enabling mother
two hungry siblings
a brother and a sister
finally there was me
fat from poor folks food
five people, longing to be free
i was young
but i did the math

eight years of grammar school
four years of high school
four years of college
thirty-three years at a thankless job
equals forty-nine years of work
to prepare me for now
i did the math

fifty-six thousand men died in Viet Nam
i wonder how many POW's are still MIA?
countless more in the great world wars
also remember:
the inquisition
the crusades
the middle east
and other manly atrocities
commited by beastkind
forty bucks for an american flag
forty bucks for an islamic flag
five bucks for a shot-and-beer
six bucks for a pack of smokes
three bucks for a gallon of gas
i did the math

twenty bucks for a cheap whore
six bucks for a hustler magazine
three bucks for a pornographic video rental
twelve bucks for a handful of good condoms
internet porn is free
AOL is eleven bucks a month
a good marriage is priceless
i did the math

war is costly
politicians are crooked
corporate monoliths have no morals
i smell an expensive rat
there will be blood in the streets
the revolution is coming
who will clean it up?
will they get paid?
thorazine is ten bucks
for a thirty day supply
my health insurance is too high
my number will soon be up
countless doctors
will have me pee in a cup
bend over
look at my blood pressure
cholesterol numbers
get in the check-out line
please take a number
have one final wheeze
i count the ticks and tocks
then darkness comes
as i expire
i think...
i did the math

Saturday, June 12, 2010


coffee and cigarettes
a perfect marriage,
as marriages go.
better than marriage...
they go together,
like yin and yang.
"butts" used to cost me, 25 cents.
a coffee was a dime or so.
i loved my nicotine-and-coffee rush.
it was MY time in the morning...
cradling that hot 'cup-o-joe'.
inhaling that glorious smoke.
joy of joys,
now destroyed and taken away.
morning diners are gone now too.
the days of frankie avalon and hulabaloo.
i sipped with the weird people.
we of large billowing clouds of smoke.
dirty ashtrays,
pancakes with maple syrup
butter, butter, butter,
was our mantra.
we loved all this good shit.
and it was bad for us.
who cares?
not me!
you know what?
we were fucking happy!
that's right!
finish a cig, and light another,
without striking a match.
i drank a whole pot-a-coffee,
by myself.
fuck nescafe...
real caffeine, i tell yah!
i ate a hearty breakfast,
a veritable belly buster.
Gawd damn!
no one gave a shit about,
heart attacks
high blood pressure
heart disease
eating disorders
dying young
or the economy.
we went to work or school
then we got drunk
in local chicago taverns.
booze and cigs
get along well too!
this was a perfect marriage...
we were polygymous,
with cigs, coffee, and booze.
by god, we had a helluva good time!
now i chew on a nicotine gum.
people don't know...
how to have fun, anymore.

Friday, June 11, 2010


i climbed up steps...
3rd floor walk ups,
and more.
i lived on the 5th floor.
it was a tenement house...
no elevator.
no air conditioning.
it was a hot, fucking place.
but it was my fucking place.
the ceiling leaked, when it rained.
i climbed up ladders to patch the leaking ceiling.
up and down i went.
my whole life...
was one of climbing...
up and down.
down and up.
i climbed out of tunnels,
on steel ladders.
30 feet of climbing.
"Dont leggo, or you'll die."
once i climbed 156 feet up,
and 156 feet down, every day.
you see, i ran this tower crane.
it stood proudly, in the city of chicago.
i went up and down, every day for a year.
leggo, and you'll die.
somehow, i survived it all.
i climbed cliffs and hills.
i ran marathons.
my legs were good to me.
i was strong.
i climbed until i could climb no longer.
my legs gave out.
then came the surgeries.
the surgeon told me i never would walk...
without canes, ever again.
i told him, he didn't know me.
i worked my battered legs for three years.
i got stronger.
the pain was brutal, but i worked through it.
i made myself climb.
today, i walk without canes.
i walk without "too much" pain.
i always take the steps...
NOT the elevator.
i need to take the steps neccessary...
to stand upright, and be a man.
i won't go easy.
i'd rather go hard.
i do the steps...
to take the steps.
i learned to climb...
then i learned to fly.

"There will always be pain to things."...William Saroyan...

Thursday, June 10, 2010


her shapely legs were up in the air.
i noticed her ankle bracelet.
she was wonderful!
full of heat,
black bra,
full red lips,
a sex machine.
i watched her ass,
as we climbed the stairs,
up to her room.
we were both drunk...
everything worked.
we both got what we wanted...
she made me a sandwich,
on moldy bread.
i didn't eat it.
she asked...why?
i told her, i was going to be sick.
she said to me, "get the fuck out of here!"
i never saw her again.
i should have eaten the sandwich.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010


i sat in chicago taverns...
and scribbled on bar napkins.
i sketched impressions of what i saw.
the human comedy...
great looking faces...
i tried to capture every fleeting moment.
these scenarios made great paintings.
i sold them for less, than what they were worth.
people are amused by artists, who sketch in bar rooms.
they usually are flattered, when they see...
their caricatures.
photographers do not fare as well.
sometime the camera is perceived...
as an invasion of privacy.
maybe because the lens, is something mechanical,
which steals the image.
a pencil or charcoal stick seems less intimidating.
women love to pose for photos and drawings.
men do not.
i immortalized many drunks, with my paintings.
i brought finished paintings to bars.
i often sold them.
these sales subsidized my alcoholism.
this symbiotic relationship worked quite well.
we seem to find our "niche"...
and stay within its comfort.
i traveled to many bars...
did many drawings...
met all types of people.
i sat with the poor.
i sat with the rich.
when i was "flush"...
i bought drinks for the house.
when i was broke...
folks bought drinks for me.
every one knew who i was.
it didn't matter.
they soon forget you,
if you don't show up for a week.
bars are ethereal.
each has its own character.
none are real.
they are facades.
they are illusions.
people open their souls to me in bars.
an open soul is easy to paint.
i paint their pain.
i paint their hopes.
i paint their dreams.
my paintings are visual representations of humanity.
hearts and minds are exposed for the world to see.
getting to know the souls before i paint them...
lends to a better representation.
it's nothing more, nothing less.
it's a simple process.
all of it is humorous...
the "dramas" i see are real.
i hope my paintings capture this quality.
i paint because i must.
when an artist loses this passion...
it is difficult to reclaim.
my muse has left me.
i hope she comes back.
i'd like to paint again.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

I FEEL MOST ALIVE...(a love story)

i feel most alive...
when i'm "clocked" by someone in the jaw.
when i cheat death, time after time.
i feel most alive when i physically exhaust myself.
when i look up at the sky, instead of down at my shoes.
I feel most alive in secret embraces...
with supple, young women...
intelligent, banal, cultured, who deserve me.
i feel most alive in love...
with a woman who has lived with me for half my life.
we are two birds of a feather...locked in love together.
i feel most alive,
when i have the ultimate, defining, spiritual experience...
or when i see that science, not religion, answers all questions.
does god exist?
i feel most alive...
when i am told,
i only have six months left to live.
then, everything becomes clearer to me.
my mind learns true horror, and acceptance.
then i breathe and become a feather.
i float on the winds of eternity.
i feel most alive when i rise above these words.
then i let nature cuddle me...
like a baby wrapped in a soft blanket.
i feel most alive when i don't disregard...
all these feelings.
then, i can feel alive all the time.
in good times and bad...
through contentment and misery...
through hate and love...
through chasteness and sexuality...
through monetary success and failure...
through fellowship and abandonment...
i feel most alive.
in madness and clarity of thought...
i covet more and find i need less.
all these things make me,
feel most alive.
my mind twists and turns...
it fools me again and again...
now, surely i know...
i feel most alive.
do you?
when they put us in our boxes...
and we fly away...
off into eternity...
will we feel most alive?
will we pretend we are comic book heros?
space cowboys and cowgirls?
infintessimely alive?
can you feel it?
we are flying...
most alive...
will you come with me?
i promise,
i will breathe your name,
with every exhalation.
and feel most alive.

Monday, June 7, 2010


you are duality...both sun and moon.
dear sun, you make me warm.
the flowers grow under your rays.
you are a tonic for my happiness.
i can see everything under your reign.
you are the light of the world.

dear moon, you are mystical.
you rule over the creatures of the dark.
you are mysterious and sexual.
i feel romantic under your beams.
you moon, feed our dreams.

sun and moon...we need you both.
you complement each other.
we get to ponder you, each day.
on your rise, our dreams are made.
so inspire us with your majesties.
let us invent our realities,
from the dualities,
of sun and moon.

Sunday, June 6, 2010


gym rats
religious zealots
drug addicts
former gallery-owners
pole dancers
burlesque queens
porn stars
cab drivers
pizza and flower, deliverymen-and-women
private investigators
security men
business owners
former business owners
call girls
heavy equipment operators
other tradesmen
and so many more...
i think i am fortunate...
i accept all this wonderful diversity.
for, without it all...
i am incomplete.
i learn things from everyone.
i am no better or worse than any of my friends.
i am a part of this vast humanity.
i am one with my brothers and sisters.
i must remember this.
if i do, things will remain allright with me...
and by me.

Friday, June 4, 2010


i wish i was unwrinkled.
who crinkled me up like an old newspaper?
will i be jammed into a wine glass...
and packed away in the dark?
my eyes used to twinkle.
now they are gray.
how come my bright lights,
have all gone away?
oh least i don't "stinko".
when i scrub up, i'm "pinko".
i'm a clean old man.
yes i am!
i'm also a thinker.
some say i'm a stinker.
i protest!
i'm not a hoodwinker!
i wish i was unwrinkled.
scars and blemishes are sprinkled,
all over my body.
my imperfections,
came without my reflection.
my youthful dayz...
were a purple haze of fun!
as i reflect,
i must interject,
i don't regret.
i just sit on my bum.
sometimes i appear,
like a half-finished beer,
at road houses...
seeking to have me some fun!
the ladies i meet,
jump up on their feet,
and beat a hasty retreat,
for the door.
they want unwrinkled men...
without brains, books, or pens,
who are "wankers",
and display nothing more!
i ponder my fate.
it must be too late,
for wrinkled men to whore!
but it's alright,
i aint gonna fight.
mother nature just closed the door...
on wrinkled men,
who no longer can score!
i wish i was unwrinkled.

Thursday, June 3, 2010


thirty years in this old house
my memories
in every nook and cranny
the old dishwasher went
and so did harry's soul
my old deceased friend
he installed it for me
for free
i sent him a check for $100
he was the best man
at my wedding
he died 15 years ago
the dishwasher was 20 years old
rusted, but still doing its job
now it is gone
my last memory of harry
next went the refrigerator
then the range
memories of meals cooked
good food and cold beer
we found old cloth mice
behind and underneath the appliances
reminders of my two cats
feral and white
tuxedo cats with wonderful natures
now they are dead too
my little kitties
innocent souls
off to heaven
the old cabinets were ripped out
just like my heart
how much stuff did i store in there?
how many reminders and inspirational words?
how many goodies and bottles of whiskey?
so many memories out the door
in the blink of the eye
all into the dumpster
they threw out the kitchen table
i set a pan of warm water on it
to give my new baby girl, her first bath
gone are carpets, floors that i installed,
curio cabinets i made with my calloused hands
gone is the platform bed I made for my kid
i remember reading her stories there
and tucking her in at night
she is gone now too
married to a fine young man
gone is aunt harriet's microwave oven
it refused to die, just like aunt harriet!
she smoked for 60 years
and lived well into her late 80's
out with the old
in with the new
in four weeks time
everything will be new
cold like a hospital
i will have the home of my dreams
operating room clean
i will have to make new memories
and remodel my heart

Wednesday, June 2, 2010


I threw coins on the floor...
and they all rushed to pick them up.
Some were on their hands and knees...
like pigs at a trough.
My evil distraction allowed me...
to steal their bills off the bar.
Larceny is in the hearts of all men.
My father told me so.
Again and again their greed proved me right.
I especially enjoyed stealing from the idle rich.
I loved watching their plight.
I learned that the best theives wore the masks of saints.
Money comes to those who have no shame...
or take great risks.
Now, I buy and sell.
I know where to buy and sell.
I am destined to do very well.
I also suppose I'll go to hell...
for throwing coins,
and stealing dollar bills.
You see, I studied greed.
It served me well.
There's a price to pay...
Do tell.
If not in this life,
then the next.
A man who throws coins,
to steal dollar bills, can never rest.

But, isn't it the rich man who says:
"To work is enobling!"
Yet, he drinks and makes merry, the night away.
I too, want the sweet jam of life!
Give me a situation devoid of pain and strife!
So chase my coins!
Gird your loins!
Hold onto your bucks,
or you'll be out of luck.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010


i just got out of prison.
i found an apartment.
3 small rooms...
a hundred bucks, a week.
pay a polish landlady.
the bathroom was filthy.
fruit flies were coming from,
empty bottles of sweet brandies...
standing like soldiers, in the corner of the living room.
i cleaned every thing up.
i scrubbed for hours with detergents,
and Lysol.
i had one small window,
with a view of a dog food factory...
across the chicago river.
when the east lake michigan winds blew,
the acrid stink of horse corpses...
made my throat raw.
i had a night job,
on halsted and chicago avenue.
i threw boxes of liquor on trucks.
during the daytime, i wrote.
the incessent noise in the apartment house...
paper thin walls...
drove me insane.
knocking, pounding, arguing, sounds of sex,
sounds of passion, ignited my mind.
i had much to write about.
i didn't mind all the bullshit.
the trash...
the city...
i was glad to be home.