Friday, May 15, 2009

Not Me and the Wild Inside

Hello Not Me and the Wild Inside
Let's go for dinna', take a little ride.
We'll spill a glass or two down the uber-tight pants
Raise a little hell and rant a little rant.

To Mexico nights and the dirty seven sins
Nevermind the trouble I haven't been in.
Let's take a vacation from our dull pointless selves
We'll fuck like two bunnies the way to dirty hell.

Belly to the bar boy and two for the girls
A dark homemade brew to kill all that ills.
We will smile for the camera though nobody cares
Everyone smiles while you pull her hair.

Same for the hookers, all whores inside
It isn't a game if it won't hurt your pride
Vladivostok monkeys alive on the beach
Infinite tranquility just out of reach.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Fr'nd 'f m'ne.

For George, Keeper of Strange Time
and Internal Angers...and Sarah, an imaginary girlfriend
who was once a love of mine.

Ballet dancer is perhaps the strangest
but some work in retail, restaurants too.
A Marine perhaps the most hardcore of them all
but he may be the gentlest.

If your mind bends to the homosexual side
no...unless you want it that way.
And hundreds of sailors
only some of them a Ginsberg type.

Everything on this page is for you.

Lots work on theatrics and music and shows!
Some jugglers, but I have seen better and once a
Hollywood producer...but that was a deeper catalyst.
Weightlifters, bicyclers, walkers, and sitters.

Wives of good men and husbands of
Fat women. Food lovers too.
Chefs even, with a dash of dishwashers
and waitresses or general servants.

Growers of pot and makers of beer
Players of games and closet ninjas
A sardonic sweetheart whose
back may have broken but she never did.

A maker of the important music too
Who whiles away thinking:

"Someday they will understand. Those fucks!"
And while he does not know, I do.
While he rejects the academy, I do.
But I spend the man's time at sea...

Enough about me to the imaginary
Baseball fans and underwear dealers,
Concert-goers, and potential blowers of mind
who made me smile so long ago.

Guilty ones too I know because they brought
drunk girlfriends to frat house bedrooms
and secreted away handles while the
vomit flowed freely and the smokers smoked.

Its hard not to mention that side
because that side was always there.

The danger was present but we missed it
or rather avoided it by our own
wits-at-the-line that we pushed.
Eventually you stopped avoiding.

Remember how they formed little piles
and with orange juice we would fly into
Christmas light evenings and the joy
of the flesh of the earth.

I had to cook to get through
that but we still devised and played
music that echoed our content
discontent with all around.

Our frustration grew and ballet dancers freaked
singers still sang but it was different, weirder
travel became a part of me, meaningless sex
and pursuits which lead to pain.

She moved away, but not because of me.
I still miss her because...
One day I realized that we all are great fr'nds.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Unplan

Let's build a daydream palace
of ideas one hundred times
less droll than day to day
Political ramblings.

And as we toil away for our future
comfort we can all remember times
when life was simple and enjoyable
can't we?

Chemical fume free green palace
Vegetable heaven or something fresh
a dance floor made of dancing,
singers singing, guitars and bliss
two or more places for love.

No steel girders here
too rusty
No aluminum either
too much oxide
No wood
Too guilty
No fabric
Too illustrious
and if it was manufactured
outside the palace then
it was probably made by unhappy
and unwitting children.

Lets build a daydream then
or perhaps just a dream
little nothings everywhere
... so serene.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Booze Part IV

Veiled freedom in the drink
Being a Way to speak kindly to them
Who when sober I speak nothing or worse.

Passages in pursuit, should I be?
I walk drifting then dreaming of times more like the old days
These old days I have never been a part of
But feel the lack of triumph and satisfaction in my heart.

Sometimes I want to push to the line
Fight myself to it, the line, and jump
Seek the syphilis like it could grant me power
Know the gutter so that it could show me the path.

A day or so later I want nothing but the mattress
forever there to rest the hard path being the wrong one
seeking abrupt cut off from the light.

Sleep and inhibitions suffer
I am embarassed at my kindness
go back to deeper silence
gone back to worse.