Monday, May 30, 2011


there's always a cross to bear
i pick one up and begin my journey
sometimes it lasts a few hundred feet
other times it lasts for miles

my shoulders feel relief when i set it down
then i look around
and i find my next cross
sometimes it is smaller
other times it is larger
but my resolve is still the same

i grunt and drag it with all my might
though my body and mind may rebel
i do not shirk my tasks
though they are never-ending
from birth to the grave...
this is my contribution to the world
and to myself

my paths are challenging
for this life is not paradise
it is a vale of tears
but a job well-done
provides me with some satisfaction
for when i lay my last cross down
there will be some comfort
there will be some dignity
in that last act.

Sunday, May 29, 2011


we do remember
our boys and girls
too soon they had to grow up
they saw the terror of war
bloodied torsos
mental anguish
the horror.

the real heroes are the ones
who gave their lives
their limbs
their minds
not the bloody hollywood movies
that glorify the bullshit
or the fat, uncaring manipulators...
who put up the national boundaries
and unceasingly tell lies
through the history of mankind
and rape our mother earth
they are truly responsible.

the universal soldier
dies for these lies
and we continue the madness
kings, presidents, and corporates...
make us pledge allegiance
to thousands of flags of many colors
for their own personal gains.

so we are the fodder
we are the dead
and we are the damned
and then we come home
to countries that have failed us
and our countries turn there faces
to our wounds
and we are invisible
because we have seen too much.

so now our personal armaggedon
becomes the death of the world
because greed will not allow
a world government and peace
there will be no true humanity
without a world under one flag

Saturday, May 28, 2011


I still set my alarm clock
make sure the numbers are right
the coffee pot is set at night
more numbers for perfect timing...
before i leave for the gym

the newspaper gets here at 7 a.m.
give or take
after i read it
i leave for the gym
around 8:30

the barbells there have numbers
i do numbered sets
of repetitions with them
i count it all out
every day

the aerobic machines
show me my pace and resistance numbers
calories burned
heart weigh numbers
body weight numbers
numbers of the steps i take
i observe all of them
and process the information in my mind

i observe the milage numbers
on my car odometer
numbers for oil changes
furnace filter changes
numbers on my medications

dates for doctor appointments
i observe all of the endless calibrations
for computer tasks
and professional aspirations
there are numbers
for everything in my life

the only number i know i can't control
is my death-date, number
this is the most important one
strange, isn't it?

Friday, May 27, 2011


she had looks
big dark eyes
long eyelashes
framed in mascara
dark, large orbs
flashing with sweet life
holding men in her gaze.

These men were frozen
like bucks imprisoned in cold night air
as they looked into inescapable headlamps

her red, pouty lips were
so moist
so inviting
they begged to be kissed
but she was emotionless
like a doll...

and she had a black heart
that was cold as stone
a monster she was
just like Chuckie's bride
of horror movie fame

but the men lined up anyway
and were dispatched willy-nilly
one by one
with empty pockets and broken hearts

and they told their stories
of her black magic
and evil webs
as they remembered mistakes
in their later years
when pain subsided

and in a final summation
the men all said:
"she was pretty as a doll".

Thursday, May 26, 2011


don't lay shit on me
just leave me alone
don't run your games on my playground
it ain't yours
have some common courtesy
i don't play in your backyard
i respect your space
so just leave me mine
it ain't that big
but it's all i've got
so run your game
your way
all day
just go away
from what is mine
be kind
don't whine
just leave me alone

Wednesday, May 25, 2011


i don't need a 4-G network
a kindle
a freakin' ipad
what i need is a conversation
like the kind we had
around kitchen tables
or decrepit coffee shops
when people knew about history
and philosophy was king
when tv was put second
and people didn't text
and now they text each other
when they are in the same room
and avoid eye contact
no one wants conversation
or knows about mickey mantle
or cares about geography
or history
or the great books
or fellowship
we just rush to nowhere
in this vast wasteland
of garbage
and the morality of the great society
has gone the way
of lady gaga
simulating sex
on american idol
so i sit and talk to myself
and mutter epitaphs
no one hears
but i continue
for things just ain't right
but i remember
my network was real.

Monday, May 23, 2011


the best verse comes from laying in piss ditches
or fields of battle
or factories
or in dusty rooms
after popping pills that kill
the pain
and other things
the best verse is vacant lately
i have been vacationized
not radicalized
i've eaten too many good meals
stayed sober too long
and watch too much tv.

the best verse comes from pain
and horror
and comedy
and strange situations
not from the clubs
where men sit
and smoke cigars
and plot for more money
no it doesn't work that way.

for there is no verse
in rich mens yarns
only the bottom line
which is a line
i hate with such venom
that it makes me spew
words like this
and this is ok
even if it is
mediocre verse
but, it is better than
what i read
in the newspapers.

so maybe if i stumble for a few lines
and search for my muse
it will come back to me
for it has been too long
and my soul screams
not for the comfort of things
but for the piss ditch
once again.

Monday, May 16, 2011


never hurry
for things that are dead
they're not on the clock
they've all gone to bed
no timecards to punch
no deadlines to meet
they've found a fine respite
a good place to sleep
in the abyss
or beyond
they never hurry
these things that are dead
they have no heartbeat
no brain in their head

as your mind ponders
these words of queer thought
do not be frightened
or oddly distraught
for time has places
for things that are dead
these varied mysteries
are all in our heads
don't dwell on them too long
although they are true
they're coming for me
they're coming for you
so, never hurry

Saturday, May 14, 2011


his blue suit was as wrinkled as his face.
his trouser seat was shiny,
as he reached up and stretched his hands to the stars.
the audience laughed at him.
he grabbed his well-worn guitar out of a battered case.
many ignored him, but those who kept watching...
jeered, laughed, and threw refuse at him.
he stared blankly at them, as he went about his business.
they continued to laugh and shout insults in his direction.
the latest techno-factory produced loudly blared music.
the club speakers throbbed with this nonsense.
it was an insistent pounding of mediocrity.
the old man ignored it all.
then the house music stopped to the crowds dismay and anger.
a great wave of boos and catcalls filled the room.
finally, the old man turned on his amplifier.
he plugged in, and just stared at the crowd.
it was as if he demanded silence.
then magically, it finally came.
his fingers moved at rocket speed,
as the sweetest sounds emerged.
the jeers turned into cheers in a jack-split second.
he owned them now, 'cause he was a rock and roll star.

Friday, May 13, 2011


there exists...
a carnival world,
of self-invention,
and self-promotion.

i have larger dreams for art forms,
i am humbled by the uniqueness,
of my human experiences.

i see my creative life as one being.
imagined and re-imagined...
so i can emerge,
from the chrysalis of my devices...
many times,

i try to define
and see clearly
the arbitrary developments
of my real life.

but my mind makes these events...
yes, i see only smoke and mirrors,
yet i try to be true to myself.
in this carnival world
of self-invention
and self-promotion.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011


celebrate more
don't lay on the floor
spread your wings
have some flings
and do what you love
that is the rub
just celebrate more
and love and adore
all the beautiful things
lose all of the strings
which bind your kind soul
don't dig a big hole
and crawl in and die
look up to the sky
and smile broad and wide
your love do not hide
just celebrate more

Tuesday, May 10, 2011


i dreamt of eating ribs
i enjoyed them last week
at marlowes
est. 1974
on elvis presley blvd.
not to hot
just spicy enough
tangy damned bbq sauce it was!
and meat that fell off the bone
wet ribs
and hot waitresses
cheaper t-shirts and elvis memorabilia
and all was good
being picked up by a pink limo
i ordered the ride on a pink telephone
from the heartbreak hotel
in memphis
amazingly, the limo ride was free
i tipped my driver a fiver
and karma took me
to culinary delights
and good intel from my driver
for other sites
on a hot summer night
and my love looked into my eyes
and i felt her warmth
and saw the sauce on her cheek
as we walked hand-in-hand
past graceland

Sunday, May 8, 2011


we rolled through rural illinois
went through cairo after they blew the dikes
wept when we saw all the devastation
water on farmlands
people flooded out
illinois, missouri, arkansas, memphis tennessee.
we partied on beale street
mud island disappeared
the blues are for real in southern illinois
they are for real in the mid south
graceland brings in the "moolah"
i heard that lisa marie nets a million a month
the bbq at marlowes in the best in town
we came back yesterday because the rains started again
we saw them sandbagging on I-57
just north of cairo
yeah, we heard the blues
we saw the blues first hand
it's good to be home
but don't forget to throw a few bucks
toward the relief funds
for the people devastated by these rains