Kill Radio Xmas Show Feature

Bicycle Review Poet Of The Week

“It only hurts when I laugh…”, by BC Petrakos

at what point did I stop existing
was it when I gave away my cell phone
was it when the ride took too long
when the conversation ended with a thud
was it when the hair got cut
the days got long
the wind whispered
“vanity is all we have to look forward to”
was it when
women started the closeout sale on once prime real estate
no reasonable offer refused
men started looking in the mirror like it was a window to the
sky
at what point did I stop existing
was it when
I wondered if I existed at all
when I forgot the sound of my mother’s voice
when I realized she never called
when I decided the toys of life are temporal
when the trick is ready to leave
when the money is on the dresser
old silver coins – useless in empty pockets
honesty cannot be purchased now
or food to fill and empty soul
words left on the end table
in the ash tray,
bitter from the clocks tick
reminding me the time is up someone else has to take the room

Violets Bed

Mrs. Bentley

What It Feels Like To Be A Woman

Publisher / Performance Art Team

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She is giving advice on the venice beach piece pavement where day old bread is stacked by sleeping bags and tied up belongings, she is talking about positive affirmations and energy, I believe her, I trust she knows better then most because she smiles and haven’t for a long time, so she must know something ************************************* Wrapped in a blanket on the grass, every owned item in plastic bags piled in shopping basket by the wall of the park restroom in eye view, dog patiently sits near, as the couple speak to each other of tomorrow ************************************** In line at the Co op in Santa Monica man speaks into his headphone “So tomorrow I get to drive into a Mexican neighborhood and look at some down locations for the shoot” Mexican lady behind him in line retorts…California WAS all a Mexican neighborhood not too long ago ******************************************************* Its Saturday and she is wearing her bright red lipstick, go to church dress, big hat and smile so wide like she was a queen, its one more day away from the man that sliced her cheek with a razor, tossed her down the steps and called her his bride Its a good day to be alone, and there is nothing lonely about it , Young Mom: Oliver sweetheart mommy said, no honey, please put that down, honey, sweetheart please. Get’in the car, honey? !!! Big Sister(presumably Oliver’s) : Quit Being an asshole and get in the car!! Freak! Oliver responds quickly and not without kicking big sister on the way into the back seat restraint. (And so we see the first shade of Grey) Brown skin baby screams and laughs as white tiny girl chuckles hands together clapping Black black toddler claps his hands too they all laugh together each at oceans edge feeling water cold blissful earth kiss alive and moving sweet like song like threads that connect Together the babies dance in Venice today They are one *********************************** Tonight at the 99 cent store in Mar Vista, Carol King sings ” I feel the earth move, under my feet..” the Woman by the bread sings too, giving permission to the lady looking at the bad bruised fruit to join in, a different lady begins swinging her hips, we smile at eachother like we know this is a good time to sing, no one comments, the ladies move and swing hips, smile and sing, I feel like we are human tonight, I feel like I don’t have to say what color of skin we did or did not have, who drove what, what age we were..we were singing at the 99 cent store like ladies should do everywhere..we were singing with Carol King and the earth moved under our feet Oh my america home of the free thinking Not thinking, sheep and bastard children of revolutionary minds, slaves, and owners, savages, and drunks artist and creative freaks, leaders and gangsters, flying culture vultures, and whining spinsters, judgmental idealists, junkies and bad peoples, the best and the brightest, the sweetest and the kindest, medelers and capitalists Dreamers and bling masters, crybabies and strong silent types, wherever I go they say , that is an American, ya, I guess cause no where else can I be this way with pride ****************************************** When Louisa cuts your hair, in her bootleg salon on Lincoln blvd, in Venice , her mother smile makes a person feel well, she deserves a 10 dollar tip because she doesn’t talk your head off, she cuts your hair in silence, she listens to quiet music and you do too, as you sit and she cuts and does a better job then west side beauties, young and groovy, too cool to be human, so Louisa wins with that smile of hers and the skill of wrinkled hands ********************************* The white kid in black with the skate board smaking pavement and obsession with vines, brown eyes light like peanut butter, sweet like jive talking,mischief dancing teen ager with so much to live through still, he’s that guy thats not afraid he says, his dad is scary and his other father in heaven is a crow, he’s got two moms too one mother an angel ghost with a voice he has been hearing when times get strange and its always stange in southern California Crenshaw and Exposition smells like bbq, sweet and smokey, reminds me of the neighborhood I do not have, of double dutch jump rope, aprons, sweet tea and summer, grandma smile ,new music fresh in the air, and pie Reminds me of the kind of family I will never have, maybe didn’t want, and wish I could miss, smells good in a way This summer shows up wearing a New Orleans mask all heat and moist overcast and drunken, in a white slip and a paper fan, humming not singing, sweating not blushing, angry not hungry, thirsty for the sweet confusing the men in shorts trying to jog as per usual, women uncomfortable in tight anything, sun most likely laughing as we little tiny egoists..try to explain ******************************* God is locked in the bathroom Reading a book, the good book Looking for evidence of repentance Recalling voices of lamentation That take personal responsibility Reminding him self that they are only children Dangerous when they find knives Afraid to be wrong Misguided in assumption Babies with attitudes Screaming out side the door Me me me In tuneless Need They have to figure it out or else they will never grow ********************************* She walks on the tiny edge of the PCH, bus wont take her up the hill, the lady she works for gets mad if she is late, she has been cleaning her house for ten years, the lady calls her Maria, her name is Elizabeth, she sends money home, shares a room, misses her children. When you ask her a question she smiles when she answers and looks you in the eye. She sings when she mops and is content with one day off, still happier then her employer will ever be. ********************************************* Like Linus he held his blanket, like Pig Pen his feet were dirty, Like Hungry he watched the citizens, march past him, with their dogs. Dogs that had beds, and designer food, Dogs that had sitters, and coiffeurs and herbal baths, Dogs that had walkers, and “Mommies” and trainers, and he, he went through the alley, talked to himself and wanted to get high and was lost in his little mad cartoon world of us and them, only us was him and his blanket and them seemed to be everyone else ************************************************ For Jim Morrison : because ..why not The last time he dreamed was on the roof it was a real dream with out the shadow of spirits bottle kind or sugar sweet cubes dropped for departure from his present He was hungry and tired and the sky opened in the dream a huge black bird flew down landed on his chest became a woman with green eyes She kissed him pressing her feathered body into his youthful hips Then, the clouds in the dream warned him in a chorus song but he didn’t listen the bird woman was making him hard and dizzy she flew up holding his hand they were in the sky together she took him to a high place and showed him all the kingdoms of the world she said they would worship him for 6 years but their worship came with a price he laughed and said “Fuck the price man bring on the fame” so she did ****************************************** Angie was a tough lady, looked like a man with false eyelashes, like hate was pinned on her face,bright red lipstick on her narrow lips were unsettling, when she smiled, and that was rare, it was as if the smile was such a favor a body should run. Angie was tiny and brown skinned and serious, she stabbed her husband “Only 11 times” she said in Spanish to my mom, who had to laugh, “Only 11 times, cause I was sick of getting hit” “Best reason to stab” My mom said “Best reason to stab” ************************************************* the animated version of The Jungle book, reminds me of summer, cousins and dangerous amounts of relatives piling in one stationwagon, the five dollar a car load drive inn, broken down playground under the movie screen, smoking when my mom wasnt looking, sitting on the roof of the car and thinking my cousin Rhonda was always going to be prettier then me, but she was nice and kind to me so I didnt hate her, in fact at that time she was my best friend ********************************************** I used to delight in driving home when all the world was going to work, the sun rising, their coffee hot, rushed comute, my bed warm and hangover cure thoughts 6am chant put me to pass out dead to the outside world , I was so smart in my banged up car not like anyone misfit smile and second hand leather coat used as a blanket not like them all the them that aint haunted and buzzing and whipped in life’s game before it started fuckum, I would say falling into slumber shoes on loose fuckum, all the same in their tidy little lives,we all end up as dust ***************************************************** I am dying of terminal uniqueness striving for balance in an un balanced world swimmin up stream in hardening cement , I take for granted there will always be breath, always be more, always be something to resist, fight for, understand, and believe, but belief is not enough and will not heal this sickened soul **************************************************** The crazy man on Highland and Franklin shouting the Richard lll speech I memorized when I was 22, to piss off my professor and show him I could do the part better then the college favorite pretty boy, reading the speech as I stood on the table in the cafeteria (to wild applause, I will add) reminds me I am as mad as the man on Franklin and Highland and perhaps always have been ************************************************** Peace to the canterous , who pay so much attention to so many things they may need a blessing but dont know any priests, so peace from a dark heart bastard might just do the trick just take it if ya need it , Peace to you **************************************************** 720 bus  from downtown the fellows talk, they know the beach, and the “spot”, the songs and chat like the dirty hands were a uniform, all these men smell of pavement, one has a filthy bunny in a filthy blanket, he is making filthy jokes, he also, makes the too exhausted latin lady smile, she just wants to sit somewhere else, young man worries about the bunny future, wants to make sure they dont harm him or her, and dont make it high, that is wrong, he says, the’one with’the bunny says its fine, its all fine and I supose there are different levels of fine, **************************************** We are all human Trying to make our hearts full Yearning for someone to hear us To be silent with us To override the fear and dread Angry in the light of day Confused as to where to hang blame Squinting at beauty We are all human guilty and innocent and lost

National Poetry Month 4/30/15

On the last day, on the very last day

Some wanted to cry but couldn’t

On the last day on the very last day

Some didn’t want to be alone

On the last day on the very last day

Some couldn’t stay angry for a moment

On the last day on the very last day

Some slept in dreamless sleep

Some were weeping, some were held tight,

Some were left in a pool of blood

Some could see it

from a distance

Some said nothing

Some felt love

On the last day on the very last day

Some heard the voice of strangers

On the last day on the very last day

The light was bright and cool

On the last day on the very last day

Some would listen to silence

On the last day on the very last day

Each found out what was true

 

 

National Poetry Month 4-1 Thru 4-29 2015

4/29

Oh, I wish I could write something different, special, awesome
and when I wrote, what I wrote became powerful and real
And as I wrote this thing
The way that I am and what I think would change immediately
how I expressed myself would be refined, with beautiful language, so beautiful that any one who would read the thing would suddenly be struck with how
valuable and beautiful, beautiful and valuable everything was
even humanity, even chickens, even water, even touch, even understanding, even peace, even dogs, even cats, even children, even
people who are nothing like me, and nothing like the readers, and live far away and close and next door, and they would all, by reading
become instantly
beautiful and valuable themselves, and what they touched would become
beautiful and valuable and
deep gratitude for even the smallest things would flood from the readers eyes, gratitude for letters, words, senses, understanding, carrots, better days, salvation, rocks, good shoes, trees, butterscotch candy in a glass candy dishes, music, howling, tears so deep and plentiful that they cracked a heart in two, the broken heart, widows, brides, spinsters, old men with long hair, small girls with dirty hands, little boys who want to play piano, raindrops, air, dirt, beautiful valuable dirt, the smell of the ocean, prayers, books, static, sleep
and life..I wish I could write something that impressed that
Life is beautiful valuable and should be considered with deep gratitude
but I will leave that to the poets

4-28
The teletype in the sky taps code
Dash dash dot

The tapping continues and after a while
you can’t hear it
Instructions on how to proceed is lost in the background
years click and you realize you dont know how to live according to the directions
tapping
dashing dotting
And if you are me you fuck it up any way
Over and over
even when you try
Even when you think you got it
Think the plan is going well
Think you are close
Think
oh
this is how to be
But its not
you are not right
Its obvious
Its endless mistakes
if you are me
The original
Sin of misunderstanding
Repeats
Until the day when it doesn’t matter any more
And by “it ”
I mean everything
Then the tapping dash dots
Stop
And little notes show up
Clear messages
Some are hard to take
But the sting is quick because it
Doesn’t matter
Each little message even the hard to take ones
Are kind of kind
Because they are
True
And if you are me
It doesn’t matter

4-27
I didn’t know it, but there was a rainbow in my closet
under all the stuff, wanting to be its transparent miracle
wanting to be promise
waiting for the storm to settle
the old world to be moved
I knew a boy once who wanted hope to be sent like a dove
into the air finding land
he whispers from time to time
no matter what
no matter what
its how I found the rainbow today
in the closet
under the stuff
mixed with the whisper
no matter what

4/26

the first smart lazy wolf in the world
did not like to hunt
did not like to run
was not interested in any of the wolf
things that wolves did
which at times was, uncomfortable, took courage,
effort, and working with the pack, being led by one cause
it was not his way, not what he wanted, not what he liked
he preferred to sleep
a lot
and wanted to figure a way he could do just that
most of the time
so, he found and trained a Man
not the brightest beast
not the fastest
absolutely not a good hunter
but Man had a way, that if cultivated
could benefit the first smart lazy wolf
vital to his plan
the first smart lazy wolf had to train the man and
because the man was not that bright
and very insecure
the first smart lazy wolf in the world
had to make the man think
the man was training the wolf
and the first smart lazy wolf in the world
was well taken care of
with a minimal of effort
which was his goal
and his children became dogs
they lost their wolf like power
because it was given away
generation by generation
they became dependent
powerless
useless as wolves
comfortable as slaves

4/25
Damn it
Damn it
Damn it
12:01
and I missed the writing deadline
I made for myself
to keep up with the thing that
no one asked me to keep up with
but
Damn it
its 12:01
and I almost made the 30 =30 thing
but now..now..now..or
I could be wrong, it could be.. 11:59
It could be good
or I could lie
which means this poem
will tell on me
and DAMN IT
NO..
but then again
I could make it 30 days for 30 poems and write two poems in a day
would that be like being kinda right
Which would be like being Kinda Republican
Or Kinda Wrong
Or Kinda Pregnant
Or It could be
that one minute is not that big of a deal
like what kind of thing you believe in
or what kind of thing you don’t believe in
or the kind of kindness you do
as long as you do it
it counts

•  

4-24
His grandma walks with a hobble, her house coat is black with a sparkling blue flower and she wears it when they walk to school, her head scarf is clean and pulled tight over her pin curled hair.
He loves her brown eyes and fat hand, he loves the little cookies she puts in his Superman lunch box, and the way she smiles when she wakes him up in the morning. When the other boys say something about the way she looks and walks, there is a moment. What he does with this information is important, how he processes the tease will determine his everything. He looks away, sad then mad then he closes his eyes and remembers she loves him “bigger then the sun, bigger then the moon and always”
And turns to the boys, and shouts
“Go away you mean nothing to me!” it is the birth of a free man

4-23
SNAP
At the risk of being exactly who I am
Not who you imagine me, wish me, thought I, understood me to be
But all the fuckin Alpha
Hera did fling into the cosmos that not so gently landed on
the can do, will do, usually do, females of my tribe
on this bitter root of a planet where some men seem to think they can keep up the kinda shit that disperses race, gender,feeling, thinking, diversity, holding down, stringing up, shooting dead, repeating all the bullshit that keeps us
From full throttle thrive
Bastard few keepin good men down
Slutting up what could be
Power bitches wide and fierce holding up arms
Of the last few fighters left with real balls
Same powers that invented, pants sagging,ass showing,child men leaning into
Selfie snapping, unrealized female energies
Dyed fried and tossed to side as instructed by the screens and the machine
But same camera in the hand of
Axe in bloodline, healing in temper, change in the conscious contact
men and women
With history in their eyes
Raised by mothers with wounds deep
Fathers with callous hands
And i do not give a fuck what you think of me
Honesty that will snap off the branch
Of Rules that are
Make it known now we are watching you
Taking movies of your violations
At the risk of being
Saying
Living
Exactly
What we are
Angry, unpleasant, and on fire with change

4/22
γαia

My children are monsters
every one
different and brutal
indifferent
violent
my daughters
birthed by disaster
virgin/whores from the sea
raise up naked in a shell
more sons
one eyed and crazed
unable to see beyond their own ideas
wars, violence, peace, love, birth, death
winter, summer, storm, spring
power is my skin
eyes that watch the careless children speed
or what they think is speed
to the next
next, next, next
at some point they will have to all go
again
like the first fire, the second flood,
the first birth, ravage, war, fire, flood
re-birth, it is what I do
watch and wait and build after the destruction
its is what I do and do not do that makes it life

4-21
They sing
Its 5am and bird sound out the window
Is light and beautiful
I wonder if they are speaking the same as we do
I wonder if they are actually singing like we say
I wonder if they wonder about all the noise our kind is constantly making
If it bothers them
If they hate, or love or fear
Tell stories
Have a history
Or do they have a contentment
Beyond what we can imagine
Should we consider more
Listen more
Sing more
First thing
Before the sun comes up

4-20
Ronnie Jr had a tattoo of a spiderweb
on his face
It was not his best idea
It wasn’t an idea at all
That time he ran away from the reform school
The one that looked like a church the
Big big building on the outskirts of town
The windows were boarded up and had black metal bars, he asked about it when he arrived
“Asked, what if there is a fire?” Was ignored and the cleaning lady said out loud, loud enough to be heard, “All these boys going to hell anyways, so don’t matter much” no one agreed out loud but it was all that was said. Ronnie and another boy ran away the very next night. Hitched to Chicago where a guy knew a guy, that if you took care of some details for him he would give you a free tattoo. They delivered a few packages on the bikes the guy let them use, they got really really really high and before he knew it he was insisting the tattoo cover on his face, the reasoning was no one would recognize him, and it was cool to him in the moment, he did not expect to be alive for so damned long, but then again few do.

4-19
When they rested
Thems that set about to separate light from dark
And what not
They didn’t quite rest as it were
They saw this perfect and balanced system
The most beautiful in a long time thing
With its stuff made outta other stuff
star reused to make living thinking beings
and such like things seen and unseen
perfect balanced wonders
when they was done for the most part
The did not rest as it is not what they did
They took a look at time from beginning to end
And one wept, had to sit a spell
cause of the way the miracle of thought
would wreck it down to the last shred of it
So when someone says they rested
What really happened was they stopped
An sat a spell and wept a bit
Considering what it was now and what it would be
And what it could be
And my guess is on the 8 day they had to start
Refigurin

4-18
It is a park now
The place I passed out on the dirt
Where we made plans
Told each other the comforting words
“Fuck um”
They, all the ‘Theys” were not like us
We were smart
We laughed at everything each other said
we were hysterical
brilliant
We were different and cool and
I lost
My car
Forgot where I parked it and we laughed
rested in the dirt because we could not get up
My legs gave way and my head was spinning , i remember you had to pull back my hair…again because I got sick
You tried to make me drink water and I passed out
Good times
Good times

4/17
You know this town
Mostly hot or not
Mostly vain and frightened
Mostly sick in mind and always trying
reaching to be the most, the best , the prettiest
even the men, oh how they try to be pretty
and we, we are the disease
the virus starts here
reaching for the big money, reaching for that thing that can not fill
starving our girls and boys for to fit in clothes made by
children in countries who would love that bread we cast off
love the “rights” we want more of, love the days, the sweet things
we tosses so much to the side like so much whatever
we need
we need
we need here, we need everything here and we need more
we are the disease, we spread it in the lines, in the air to the world
the sickness starts here
the pretty starts here
the glitter flows in viral discontent and misshaped ideas
oh to have MORE..we say in our minds, with our gym clothes on running in place
sweat pouring down
more more we sing like hymns
you know this town
you know this town
it is a whore with a toothache
grinning and bearin it
till the pay off
and the pay off
is never enough

4/16
Peace fell out of the sky
it was yellow
yellow like the petals of a flower
progressive and bright
it looked like life but not many could get close to it
some could not even see it
children saw it
but could not get near because they were
told not to
and
to get close to peace you had to be very still
it was there with out reason
reason was far from peace and tried to dismiss it
peace is glowing and unusual
rare
the most original thing that ever was and ever would be
older then earth or heaven connected to the mind and the unseen
one could touch it but few did
once touched
everything is changed ..forever
veins become eternal and the one who touches peace
becomes
very unpleasant to be around
shunned
attacked
indifferent to matter
non-local in sight and mind and being
unreasonable
and
one with peace

4-15
Solia watched out the window
There was a tree that had branches she could see
They tied her arms to the bed so she wouldn’t
Harm herself or others
They tried to brainwash her with a TV
Mounted on the wall
That looked down on her saying nothing hour after hour
She looked out the window
On the branch of the tree was a brown fat worm
It almost looked like a branch
But it moved little at a time
If she focused she could see it
It took its time to find a perfect place
It took almost two days
Then the brown worm was very still as if it was resting but it wasn’t it was doing something
Making itself a cocoon
slowly right before her eyes
He waa going to die and turn into mush then
Maybe become something else
The nurse came in to wash her hair
The nurse smelled like licorice and made her turn her head and look at the ceiling and turn her head again to
Wash her hair properly with water and patience
Solia wanted to see the cocoon but was being moved
so she closed her eyes
And when she did the butterfly flew behind her eyes very close she almost winced and ducked
It was good to close her eyes
Good to see freedoms yellow wings
Good to know that something else can most certainly happen some times

4/14/15
He did not know his name any more
the man who took him to work was someone
he could not remember
he smiled more then he used to
he was different before
he must have been
time had taken his memory, his ideas,
the faces of the things he must have loved and turned them into a landscape painting
the kind you stand back to look at
the kind that is sort of like a man
and sort of like a tree
but it is really a series of colorful dots
his mind was like that now
lots of dots nothing connected
silent and distant
and he started to whistle
for no reason at all, he whistled a tune that was so connected to him
the sound from his lips made him happy in a way that was solid
the man who drove him around stopped and cried as he came back to the truck and whistled too
together they whistled a specific tune that was real
the only thing that was not blurry and disconnected was the
tune
he did not want to stop, but ran out of breath
the man hugged him and ran to the inside of the truck and put music on
that was the tune they both just whistled
he closed his eyes and smiled
the music made him real
for just a moment
the music made him real

4-13
The baby seal was going to die
It accepted it as if the only thing it had to do
Was dive
not for food
But just for the final joy of diving
His mother following with mother seal tears
She was going to follow as long as possible
Until the last breath
The sharks turned away
Pretended they did not see
Not willing to bite into the sickness
The seals die from us
Die from the chain of death
The red the black the radiation
That mother ocean can not heal
Can not wash away
Cannot swallow
So the seals die
As a foreshadow
wash up on So Cal beaches
On Sunday afternoon
To disrupt picnics
And joggers
Surfers and tourists
A monument to what is to come
And what we lost

4-12
The tattooed daddy has his little girl for the Sunday, her tiny eye see Venice in its odd glory
He buys her an ice cream, a glittered photo of Hello Kitty, and sunglasses. Clumsy hand is huge as he shows her his tainted world, she only sees her Daddy, only knows he is not yelling today, understands that can change in a second so she is quiet and smiles, she wants him to look into her eyes but he is busy showing her stuff , buying her stuff amd walking. In 10 years she will love the Venice boardwalk and walk it when she can, hoping he will be there. He wont,, he will be in another city in another life as uncomfortable as ever, she will never understand how lucky she was he never came back.

4-11- 1/2

Sam Kennison screamed to make us laugh
He screamed, a punch line smile a menacing smile,’an over coat of contradiction he may or may not have killed someone, he may or may not love Jesus,may or may not hate god, respect god, he definitely liked women, pot, coke, food, cigarettes, laughing making people laugh, fighting about philosophy and being kind unexpectedly. One April 11th on the way to Vegas he said, “Yes, yes oh, OH, I understand and stopped breathing, smiling, joking, smoking but I don’t think he stopped being, because I just thought if him again today and laughed

4-11
As an child, Mary was sent to her room by her father because her mother drank too much and said mean things when she did. After a while Mary began to like her room and when she learned to read her room became an ocean, was a jungle where animals talked, her room was a tree, a garden, a boat, a train, a city of lights, a horse black and beautiful, it was a cave, a castle, a battle field and it was filled with people who cared. The comfort of the pages smell was better then a kiss, was warm like a hug, was teaching her that the room was a door to another place, made her mothers problems not matter, was a road to her future self. Books gave shelter and wings to fly, and comfort, as long as she could find words on a page she found home

4-10

Oh brother standing in your youthful boots
Crazy and declaring you are a Navy Seal
Mad dog old ladies like me?
Maybe you were a Navy seal,
in a video game once
In a past life perhaps
Now you look like an unwashed speed freak
Asking me with violent eyes
Can I give you some of my fear
Well.. I am fresh out
I dont have a drop of fear left
Not sorry to disappoint
You come at me half ass like you are going to do something
I say OK without a smile
Looking right at you
I believe you picked the wrong old lady to intimidate tonight
Dont try again
The next mamma may have a gun
Old girls in this town know the drill
I personally used up all my fear tickets
At the last Rodeo
All I got left is an empty pocket of
I dont give a fuck
I can give you some of that no problem

4-9
That time I wanted to get
What I thought I needed was
Exhausting
Made me smoke and eat too much starch
Made me say yes when I should have said no
Had supernatural demonic energy to negate
My eyes
Spun rituals of pretending
Sacrafice of honor
It was yesterday
It was the last time I made excuses for my
Thoughts , my face, my body
It is the act of spitting in the face
of the god
Who made bats
That time was wasted
Good for no great thing
Good for no thing
And it was a lie

4-8

I have been living upside down
The things I hold dear lost in a shipwreck
Even laughter is broken
Shards of laughters glass beneath fighting feet
I move
The best news Is
I do not care
It is all
an illusion
And
I don’t care
This careless state liberates
Is
dangerous
Is
real
Is
Honest
Anything can happen now
Anything

4-7
unpopular

in the park across the street the population of humanity that missed a paycheck lost jobs, had no “daddy”, aged out of foster care, took to much glass, or acid, or rotgut or pcp or crystal or crack or just were created in humble circumstances
without a net
wait
for Christians to come and give them stuff for free
blankets, food in bags, tooth paste, money sometimes, gift cards,
the gold that is clean socks and soap
there is no church service
just a line
no one tells them to change
or behave
or even to get off the street
the Christians, some a few steps from living in the street themselves
put together care packages
and just give stuff out
as if they were doing something brave
as if the brown bags, meant something
was an action of love
made them all brothers
one group of Christians have been doing it for 30 years
the Catholic’s are doing it now because of the new pope
The park across the street is a carnival of poverty and willingness to give
it is unpopular among the residents that pay alot to live in the neighborhood
it is most likely the Un-popular kids in school who came up with this idea
the empathetic, pathetic unpopular kids
they are not “attractive”, they drive shitty cars, they smile too much
and they give
fucking Christians

4/6

Ned wanted to marry again for the 5th time
to a new woman
with real blonde hair and fine fine legs
Ned wanted clear eyes and clear skin
Ned wanted youth
even though he was 70
in his mind he was 40 and at the top of his game
Ned wanted a new lover
one with blue eyes
one who thought he was amazing
one who listened captive to everything he said
instead he sat in his chair listened to his 4th wife prattle
could not remember loving her
she said out loud in that high pitched scream
that she never loved him
and now that the money was gone
she was leaving
He looked at the website that said he had a match
and smiled..there is always another one
he said..there is always another one

4-5
Purple carrots were created
5000Years ago
They can’t sit next to an Apple
because the Apple
Sends vibes that make the carrots bitter
The Apple thinks it knows everything
As does the Pear
They both can by
being near the purple carrot
Make it bitter
Change its core
Without doing a thing
Just by being themselves
Purple carrots are odd
Unusual
Full of cool things
Healthy stuff
Which can all be changed

4-4
Four year old hands
Dirty and wonderful
Tapping the metal stick that releases soda stream mischief
Pink , brown, clear bubbling flow
Tomorrow will be more complicated
Next year worse
The world will tell you who you are
Just like today
Smile and do not listen

4-3
Regret folds itself like origami
complicated
Sharp corners
Intricate
One must concentrate to make it into something
Different than what it actually is
One must use the imagination
To disguise
The reality of the thing
In the end
It is just regret
Folded in on itself
To make a bird
That does not fly

4/2/15

Good morning to you sweet stranger who texts me some shit before you know how cantankerous I can be, that I have many flavors of my cantankerous blood flowing through a rainbow of cantankerous mocking veins with a good flair for pretending that I am just another business lady in black, with a crocodile smile and no respect what so ever for anything on this planet or anything that this planets business people hold dear…I would love to have coffee with you some time..and by that I mean you need to buy me a drink if I have listen to you go on about your ex wife becuse at my age there is a plethera of ex wife stories, and just because I gave you my card, and listened to your 5 min explaination at the supply house does not mean I am that interested in your ex wife stories, because I am no ones ex wife and believe that is a good thing for all of humanity by refraining from the wife/ex wife catagory and by the way did I say …you are buying ..

4/1/15
There is no earthly reason you should reason
thinking too much may cause a twitch
or a lapse
or the feeling of a ticking time clock
which if considered can be frightening
not mellow
uncomfortable
and remind you of your grand parents
which in itself is not bad
because thinking of ones’ grand parents could be
nice
or horrific
depending on the grand parents
that said
reason could force you to
share
too much
which is reasonable
and very, very, unreasonable
at the same time
depending on where you stand
and there is a good chance
you stand on ground
that is not holy
as much as it is
affluent
which is better then holy
because you can pay for holiness on said ground
however if you are not currently affluent
on a ground that IS affluent
then reason is of no value what so ever
cunning is more valuable
irrationality is more popular
ignorance I am told is
bliss

COP