Friday, October 27, 2017
Reading his words
Had to take a break
Make some instant coffee
Coffee too hot to drink
Cooling next to me
I intend no disrespect
His poetry slaps me in the face
Like cold water
Like cool death
My mother’s hands were cold when I touched them
Her friends wanted to pull the sheet over her face
Hospice worker came in and said we don’t like to hide death and I agree with her
Covering my mother’s face wasn’t out of respect, but instead was a way, I guess, for her friends to try and pretend she wasn’t gone
I pulled the white sheet back down and looked at my mom in all her beauty and grace
She was like a chain link fence feeling the sun on her autumnal cheeks for the first time
Studying Michael’s words
Looked up Cherie Bullock
Read and very much enjoyed her poem “Carbon Dated”
Michael Grover I desire to sit in a tiny room with you, both of us writing what we believe is the next great American novel
Fuck I’m not a novelist and I’m guessing neither are you
The space heater lashes out at us with forked tongue and Grimm eyebrows
Tuesday, October 24, 2017
Feel like making a connection
A real connection, nothing diet or circumspect about it
As connections go I’m long overdue for a doozy
Stop the presses
All this yellow journalism has to go
Propping up an orange menace with an endless barrage of nude coverage does no one no good and dumbs us down more than you’ll ever realize in your blissed out ignorance
Splatter my brains all over the place
Like JFK’s except mine will be less noteworthy because I’ll never be President and I’ve never been much of a ladies man
Stand there standing the test of time while I turn blue from holding my stale breath
Feel like making a connection
A genuine connection, nothing duplicitous or guarded about it
As patience goes mine has been wearing thin like an old mobster that’s afraid to get plugs and instead combs it over like every other schmuck on this disconnected planet
Saturday, October 21, 2017
Received the kind of news no one wants to receive.
My mother said she was in the end of days and she wasn’t kidding in the least little bit.
She told me that my sense of humor during this time was strange and all I could think was without my sense of humor I’m already gone.
Nothing can be reversed or returned at this latency stage.
You wore it down now you own it no matter the poor health you find your body in.
Tearing out patches of your flesh and pretending you’re one of the undead when nothing could be further from the diluted and distilled, bittersweet truth.
Just dropped my mother off at hospice. I told my friend Ted and he said “Oh, Charles, that's so heavy” and he’s right it is heavy. In fact it’s heavier than my own mother is at this debilitating time.
We can only do what we can do while people’s expectations of us must be left in a ditch because there’s no point in sapping all of our energies doing our darndest to make you feel better about yourselves.
Let’s just cut to the chase and forgive and forget circumstantial evidence and the end always justifying the means. Instead let’s act like humans and accept each other for exactly who we are and not for what we want or expect each other to be.
Saturday, October 07, 2017
deconstructs from a to z
leaving nothing in between
rosary beads diddley bow
mining for a heart of gold
blood diamond cadavers
rotting in the disillusioned sun
it’s high time we stopped pussy footing around
you wanted a pussy grabber and chief
well you got it now whatcha gonna do?
deconstruction devalued in the eye of a narcissistic god killer
able bodies only get you to the grave beyond that it’s all a jump ball
i’m so down and out when looking up all I see is my proctologist in the rearview
he deconstructs because there’s nothing better to do with his hands
he deconstructs because peeling the onion with his guitar time of the assassins tool is the only effective method of pulling the band-aid from the scab
he deconstructs because all of our lives depend on it including his own
Friday, October 06, 2017
Always liked her father
Because he never not once looked down on me
Even though he towered over me like The Friendly Giant or a skyscraper
Always secretly liked her
Because she takes shit from no one
And according to her father she’s a genius when it comes to music
They watched Django Unchained while I went upstairs and did my own thing because I’ve never been a fan of Quentin Tarantino except for Reservoir Dogs and Natural Born Killers
They seemed to enjoy it and we still got stoned as I ignored the overt racism and Quentin’s annoying way of belaboring the obvious while pretending he’s out of the ordinary
Never forget when Colleen jumped off that cliff. It appeared she was jumping into nothingness, but she said she’d done it before so I trusted I would see her again
I didn’t go into the deep end even though her cajoling was tempting and maybe drowning wouldn’t have been half bad
We sat on their front steps as he told me in his ‘take no prisoners’ method that he had played the game and lost
My heart will be forever broken
Tuesday, October 03, 2017
She turns me on and I’ve never even met her face to face
I wonder if I turn her on and if she likes my face
My consonants and vowels desire to climb inside and take up permanent residence
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves
Let’s not fall in love with the first cute office worker with a Glasgow accent we meet
Let’s not declare ourselves incompetent until our competency is tested thoroughly
Breaking beneath the pressure of her afternoon matinee smiles
Walking along the breakwater with nothing, but our wits to protect us
Katie somehow keeps me calm by doing nothing as everything comes our way
I wonder if intellect impresses her more than athletic prowess
Does she feel more comfortable left to her own devices or welcoming the occasional nudge or wink from the Eye of Horus?
Is a library or coffeehouse more to her liking or does she prefer being put through her paces in the middle of the night as her music plays and cities burn all around her?
Shutting down is oftentimes the only way to uncover the missing pieces of our autumnal minds
When I saw her standing there with nothing on but her Wheel of Fortune jammies I knew I was in for the ride of my red wheelbarrow life
She’s every season wrapped up in a magnificent hillock of “sugar and spice and all things nice.”