Channeling the anguish of this life perversity
Sweating in the trenches, throwing shade as we give up our ghosts
It’s so messed up the gun held to our temples as another action painting goes belly up
I remember the Stoneman Gallery and how Bob was so kind to record me in the backroom
He even added some guitar licks as I screamed like a child bride hopped up on Red Bull and Prednisone
I learned what a real journeyman is as I hung out in his space and he commanded the room with his Buddha silences
Resisting the pageantry of blood forestalled like a hurricane of broken rainbows and sawed off razorblades
He hits just the right notes as we fall into a trance, an audience of bottom feeders hell-bent on finding the deli tray and pigging out
Dick’s Den cannot hold him; in fact I don’t believe there’s a venue big enough to capture the wounded sounds this Eagle Scout makes with his hands and murmuring mouth
Foretelling a tale older than Christ and larger than the oldest dinosaur there’s no blues this man hasn’t swallowed whole
A junkyard dog pursuing truth in a countryside of busted whores and broken down pimps
Think Raymond Chandler pumping out the pulp as Bob eviscerates the guitar strings with his crime noir fingering leaving no stone unturned or body uninvestigated.
Sunday, August 29, 2021
Channeling the anguish of this life perversity
Thursday, August 26, 2021
Buddha didn’t need drugs.
He sat beneath the Bodhi Tree and contemplated the Great Mystery.
I believe much of the reason you ingest so many intoxicants is because you’re simply bored.
Self-destruction is a skeleton key that unlocks nothing but dread.
I had a best friend who drank a twelve pack of Canadian beer every night claiming it was the only thing that helped him sleep.
We lie to ourselves because we believe it’s easier than facing the truth that we’re not perfect and down time is the sap seeping into our souls like arsenic and old lace.
I’m stymied by so much self-loathing from someone who has been the toast of the town for so long.
Placing undue stress on yourself by attempting to achieve someone else’s goals or claiming another person’s expectations as your own is a very real form of suicide you best learn to gravitate away from sooner than later.
In school I looked up to you and not only because you are a couple of inches taller.
Buddha didn’t warrant drugs.
In fact Buddha discovered a path to self-reliance and self-acceptance that kept unhealthy thoughts at bay and rejuvenated a waning moon.
I cannot stress enough how much you are loved and it is imperative you figure out a way to turn that love inwards.
A breakdown of the soul is tantamount to someone breaking into your house and taking a shit on your floor.
The catch 22 is locking all of your doors and windows doesn’t make you any safer when your thoughts turn to self-harm.
I’m ready to intervene if and when I believe you’re about to go off the deep end because human beings must never stop being human to each other.
I love you more than I love God.
Friday, August 20, 2021
Sometimes I look down at my legs and I don’t know who that is.
I’m finding it more and more difficult to accept that those with evil intentions are too often rewarded for their bad acts while people who are fair and generous are driven into the sea.
When Moses led the Hebrews out of Egypt he didn’t pick favorites, keep this in mind the next time you expect to get blood out of a solid rock.
It’s not easy being anyone.
It’s not easy being me.
It’s not easy being Kermit the Frog.
First time I saw him I was like who does this guy think he is and yet he grew on me like barnacles on the hull of a ship.
Sure he’s flashy and perhaps even full of himself, but it became all too apparent he had a heart of gold just like Alex Trebek.
In 2021 when he hosted the Jeopardy! Tournament of Champions I was incredibly impressed with how he took to hosting like a duck to water.
Like Alex he surprises you with his dry wit and also like Alex you want to get to know Buzzy because he seems like the guy.
I try to imagine him as some big music executive and yet I believe his real comfort zone would be as the next host of Jeopardy!
I know Sony has already made their decision, but I have a feeling that soon we’re all going to be surprised and pleased as Sony has buyer’s remorse as loyal fans run to the nearest fire exits.
I have a tendency to shit where I sleep. It’s a bad habit and one I best work on before I end up living under a bridge like a great, ugly troll.
Buzzy had had enough and who can blame him as my incendiary tweets burn like roman candles stuck in the eye of an apoplectic moon.
I’m glad we’re okay again because I want to witness Buzzy as he possibly steps behind the lectern of the greatest game show ever.
Think Alex Trebek and Groucho all rolled into one matzo ball.
Think Allen Ludden and Peter Marshall and get ready to be thrown for a loop.
We must think outside the box and stop relying upon only safe choices when our world desperately needs a new voice and a classic energy to break us out of this slump we all too readily settle for.
Monday, August 16, 2021
The writing is the best of me and the only way I’ll ever get free.
I pull the pen out of the scabbard and thrust it deep into my chest.
The words I write while dying will be ignored because poets only get noticed once they’re no longer with us.
Was that last line a cry for help? No, of course not because I don’t need any help in saving me and I trust you can do the same for yourself.
Need to shake all of the pre-programmed sentences out of my head because my fingers are good soldiers and do precisely what they’re told.
The stream of consciousness I ride like choppy waves exemplifies just how dangerous it is to be a true artist in this untruthful place.
I’m thinking about Daniel Snethen, another bearded poet who breaks with tradition by being untraditionally gallant in his hunt for a reality that doesn’t try our souls so surreptitiously.
I wish to eat pie with him and his friend Lilly in some non-descript city where nothing can touch us, including our own shortcomings.
Be careful of the frown police who will throw you in their unfriendly jail as they judge your unhappiness as an affront to their masquerade of civility.
The writing is what gets me through. Even when the poetry isn’t advancing I’m still a poet because I’ve worn that mark since before the Israelites were led out of Egypt.
I take out my crayon and start scribbling on everything, praying some sense can be made from this elemental mess of pretense.
The words I write while living will go unnoticed because poets only get their due once they’ve proven they were only kidding and Humpty Dumpty really cannot be put back together again.
Sunday, August 15, 2021
Did Adam and Eve come with an instruction manual?
Think about it the next time you’re eating ribs.
Think about it the next time you’re waist deep in your significant other’s red box.
I know how that sounds and what you’re now thinking, but please understand I’m not only a poet on television, which means I’m always looking for a way out of this labyrinth of ticky tacky little boxes.
Burning as hot as a blue tip as my incendiary thoughts gain entrance into your mind and redecorate the foyer with blood stamps and Wilhelm screams.
I’ve exhausted all avenues that could possibly result in bluebird happiness of course I could be focusing too much on world events or who the next host of Jeopardy! will be.
Did Bonnie and Clyde have an exit strategy?
Think about it the next time you’re filling yourself up with high fructose corn syrup and 30 caliber bullets.
Think about it the next time you find yourself on the hook for a crime you’re almost certain you did not commit.
“Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose” that’s what Kris wrote and Janis sang as she showed all those Port Arthur fucks just how resilient she was as an overdose became her silver lining from all the poor choices she could no longer ignore.
I saw Kristofferson once in concert. I was front row and even handed him some of my poetry. I’m still waiting for him to call like I’m still waiting for a thief in the night to calm my wet market fears.
I need to take some allergy medicine because I feel the nausea coming on and once it takes hold I’m no good to anyone including myself.
Saturday, August 14, 2021
and pessimism has been the American way since wiping out an indigenous
people because they had the nerve to protect their land.
Christopher Columbus was a slave trader just like our founding fathers were slave owners and I wonder why so many people choose to treat people like property as if it’s their sovereign right to tread on someone else’s freedom.
The universal mind has been outlawed as crucifixion and rape become the lost integer to the equation of our inhuman depravity to one another.
I’m stymied by what’s going on and how civil liberties have become such a hot button issue.
Of course the last President didn’t help matters much as ignorance became the soup to nuts method we now employ toward everything, including our very own children’s safety.
Rose tinted glasses defeat the purpose if your only purpose is to go through the world blind, pretending that everyone has it out for you.
I was alone on a desert island with just my thoughts and unmitigated paranoia. It felt good to unplug from the rat race until realizing the true rat race was in my claustrophobic mind.
I had to decide between taking Lord of the Flies or The Communist Manifesto and finally decided neither one truly spoke to the broken mechanism that is my lost horizon.
We stand up for this or that outmoded slogan forgetting that words written on placards and screamed at the top of our lungs do nothing more than shield ourselves from owning up to our own incalculable sins.
America as a concept has been flawed from the jump because White Shadow wasn’t just a show it was a harbinger of sentiments sensationalized by another head up their ass TV executive.
I’m an orphan not because I choose to be an orphan, but because lying eyes fell asleep on the job as we survive on Magic Evie’s unemployment and the promise that nothing is real once you lose sight of both the risk and the reward.
I wish there was such a thing as universal truth, but it’s become painstakingly clear that we cannot afford such luxuries when we continue turning our backs on each other like its business as usual.
Lasting impressions are the first to go when the paint stops drying and the grass refuses to grow.
Let’s ignore mask mandates, vaccines and sensible gun legislation because you clearly believe you’re beholden to no one, but yourself.
Of course nothing could be further from the truth and once you put down your Bible maybe you’ll start to see the reckoning through all the reprisals you’ve forsaken.
Hearing the United States Government acting all surprised at how quickly the Taliban is taking back Afghanistan sickens me because they had to know the fire they’d start when they kicked the gasoline can down an alley of broken dreams.
America never finishes what it starts as we take one dump after the next on this or that country and not once consider the ramifications from our strong arm policies of nationalism and sadism.
Why are we continuing to follow Trump’s foreign policy as Biden stumbles around like Mr. Magoo after a lobotomy?
I feel like tearing at my white skin as another cop kills another black or brown person and there’s still no recourse and there never will be any justice at this rate.
You want to lighten the load of your white guilt well then try to keep in mind that words have consequences as does non-action and non-compliance to the truth.
The neo-libs are doing just as much damage as the GOP as a very real caste system removes the poor from the equation exponentially.
I’m tired; I’m sick and I've realized getting high was just keeping me from standing tall inside this body, this temple of strength and unlimited potential.
I desire to break free from the chains that bind and hold me back from whatever memories I still refuse to look in the eye.
The first impression I had of me when I came out of the womb was that I had a lot of work to do to get back to a place where I trusted myself unconditionally.