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  • eye on you…..

    November 7th, 2016

    back to what…

    the muck-n-the mire…

    greasy bits…

    yes… greasy bits…

    never much good for ya’…

    no…absolutely not…

    and why do we do this…this constant toil…rewarding us with what…what…

    nothing…

    tis right…the only constant is nothing…always been nothing…

    that is our constant…yes…that is our constant…

    like my shoes…

    you say…

    like my shoes…

    do I like your shoes….

    right…

    no…no I do not like your shoes…nor the feet that are in them…no I do not…

    see…lovely day…

    tis…

    sun is glorious…

    tis…

    reminds me…

    of what…what…

    no matter…

    then why speak of it…why utter a word….what gains do you get…

    right…

    we know the sun is glorious…tis always been glorious…and yes..it reminds us of pasts…and this gets us what…

    nothing ‘spose…

    bingo….bingo….I got my eye on you…

    do ya…

    one funny step from you…

    an’ what…

    not in your best interest…

    back to what…

    the muck-n-the mire…

    greasy bits…

    yes…greasy bits…

  • November…

    November 6th, 2016

    and in night we waltzed…

    through whiskey…along vineyards of old…down glass tunnels leading from joint to joint…never resting…we were alive…

    fingers intwined…lips kissed…on display in storefront windows while stagnant couples walked-by…wishing…wishing…

    this is our time oh dear love of mine…days of song…laughs…hugs…warmth…autumn’s hue…

    a thousand days hath November…

    thousand…

  • dude sent me a letter…

    November 5th, 2016

    gotta’ letter from the president…

    oh yea…

    yep…

    sent that to ya personally did he…

    got the dude’s signature right here…

    yep…that’d be the one…

    yep…

    he picked you…out of a country of 300 million…the dude singled you out…

    that’s right…

    asking you to what…

    what…

    what does he want…

    to vote on Tuesday…

    oh yea…

    sent to me…

    yes …you…only you…

    you think other people got this…

    nope…just you…a wiseman being led by a star to a polling place…far…far away in a land awaiting a messiah…a child to cleanse this nation’s sins…great sacrifices will be made…

    right here…it says…Pres. Barack Obama…right here…askin’ me to vote…

    yes…he seeks out you pop…

    I can’t vote for him another time…I won’t…

    oh yea…who you wanna vote for …

    well…I’d like to see that senator from Texas get in there…

    which one…

    Lyndon B. Johnson…knows how ta’ get things done…

    that’s right pop…that’s right…

    dude sent me a letter…

    uhuh…

    oughta’ get this sucker framed…

    sure…

    what…

    nothin’….ready…

    yea…let’s go….

  • goodnight America…

    November 4th, 2016

    she encapsulates America…

    this leading lady… coiffed circus act…our center ring is lit…

    played well…nothing up her sleeve…presto…the art of the possible never looked so good…

    manipulation…intemidation…threats…always poised to pounce…waiting for no-one…fools and laymen step aside…

    her’s is the thrown to take…seated with scepter…wanting wishes granted…go away boys…go away…there’ll be no bread today…

    nor goodwill shown…or love of fellow man…promises tossed to peasants long ago…a bone your highness…a bone…

    and i shall watch as this kingdom collapses…castles built on hallowed ground…by Teddy…FDR…Barbara’s brilliance…those shiny stars which have dimmed…

    vapors now linger…vapors…

    goodnight America…goodnight…

    i kiss thee…goodnight…

    *Pres. Teddy Roosevelt (R)

    *Pres. Franklin D. Roosevelt (D)

    *Rep. Barbara Jordan of Texas(D)

  • going nowhere….

    November 3rd, 2016

    talked all night…

    diners…Midtown bars…

    watched people strut…stroll…lumber along…

    going nowhere…nowhere…

    play-by-play commentary…

    never a better analyst on the game…

    ropes learned…

    hotel rooms…suburban homes…back alleys…buddy-booths over on 42nd…tricks tricks tricks…

    one by one thorough reads were given…Midwest men away from wifey the first time…sales-guys in suits with polyester pleats wanting a score…tourists roaming  endlessly into Manhattan’s night….

    looking for what…who you kiddin’…

    past churches with candles lit…Mexicans lined-up for odd jobs and under-table pay…plasma donors swapping stories…liquor stores awaiting the witching hour…knish-cart people of Palestine….one…the good mustard…good mustard…

    everywhere…this city smells…

    of you…

    you…

    watched people strut…stroll…lumber along…

    going nowhere…going nowhere….

     

  • found mine….

    November 2nd, 2016

    wasn’t sought….’least…well…

    seated…among lavender…lilacs…lilies…

    wept…  brass belly… smooth to the touch…a smile revealed all…these tears are happy…,where’ve you been hiding….,here…right here…,he chuckled…

    you are loved….., this ancient idol said, unconditionally…peace be with you, placed prayer beads ’round his neck… laugh…delicious laughter…something to believe-in…

    a cow…country….testaments….time machines….credit lines…symbols of love…offerings in peace….bottles of poison…

    and you put stock in what….

    yes…yes…

    i’ve gotta belly to rub…

  • my dearest…

    November 1st, 2016

    beauty….grace…

    laughs-n-smiles…

    dearest friend…

    tis you…tis you…

    to watch in shadow’s light…

    this bed shared…

    what joy…nothing needed…

    and many would scoff…laugh…loves forgotten…this world’s jaded…wine was never shared…stories kept quiet…music silenced…maybe…never played…

    their fortune’s spent…gone long ago…kisses only money could buy…gratis never came…

    thank God for a poverty’s riches…

    so i ask…why me…this luck…yes…love has not always been kind…

    you are why i wait…

    dearest keep dancing…keep dancing…

    beauty…grace…

    laughs-n-smiles…

    dearest friend…

    tis you…tis you..

    the happiest of birthdays…

  • this night…

    November 1st, 2016

    El Gato purrs…

    she…snores…

    i lay ‘tween…

    Bukowski in blue…

    whiskey..smooth…easy…

    Bukowski…

    Bill Evans plays silently…blanket pulled-over…

    El Gato purrs…

    she…snores…

    i lay ‘tween…

    words… words…

    at peace…

  • time to go…

    October 31st, 2016

    showed his cards….

    broken…broke….lonely…mad at God…this god he knew from the King James text of old… no messiah in waiting…could care less if jesus came to town in a busted-up Chevy or a fixed-up Ford…sometimes you just feel that way…

    He took my wife… money… nothin’…., old man said, wonderin’ whether or not to keep goin’…, never seen him tremble…shake…, maybe you know what that’s like, nodded…, not easy…., just looked…kept looking….waiting on pop…

    you didn’t do ROTC…wouldn’t know ’bout that…makes you a man…no crying…

    how so….

    they’d make ya do twenty laps ’round the football field with an M16 ‘bove your head…what they’d do…

    ever happen to you…

    oh yea…plenty ah’ times…

    whatd’ya want to cry ’bout….

    don’t know…can’t ‘member…, stared off into space… Schnauzers barked…more shit to clean-up….

    never cried when your mom died…never did…

    ‘ats not what i heard……

    mmm….maybe I did…don’t know…just taught men don’t do that…

    see…

    facing bankruptcy…switchin’ money from one account to another…wanna leave all ah’ this…this place…this town…leave…

    O.K. ….

    you ever wanna die…really die…

    everyday….

    I’m scared…

    i know…

    …go home…

    no….fine…

    be alright…

    …k…

    leave the car….

    can’t….

    my car…

    sure…

    if I kill myself then I kill myself….

    fine..you wanna’ kill yourself…i’ll show you how to kill yourself…but you’re not gonna take anybody with ya’….got it…

    take that car and I’ll call the cops…,started crying…

    i know… get it…

    do ya…do ya…

    yea…

    and we sat there….dad and i…till’ he fell asleep…mumbling ’bout old girlfriends…wanting a Pepsi…snoring…

    time to go….

     

     

     

  • waiting for a call….

    October 30th, 2016

    turning poetry to porn…

    flesh in an instant…

    proclivities punctuated…exposed….

    nothing clandestine….

    romance….

    no longer do we turn to Whitman…Leaves of Grass thrown out into compost….

    tired…worn from the obvious…

    plasticity…

    injected with what…

    generations in search of personality…settling for craft pints an’ small plates….

    i hope there’s always jazz…piano trios at 3 in the morn…

    coffee…cream…a buxom blonde who smokes…

    i don’t ask much….

    empty bookshelves…

    turning poetry to porn…

    waiting for a call….

     

     

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