Southern California Is a Desert ~ Wednesday, 31 May 2017

What I wouldn't give to be with my friends as horrible as it was in high school to return to that wretched place and time knowing nothing how the future plays out at least we had each other mad bastards angry at all the world in paradise we'd never have it better none of us but getting older could never be worse than growing up with all my bastard friends in a punk cover band with teenage dreams the future was ours for the taking no getting drunk taking drugs and passing out always in trouble with lousy parents sneaking out late at night driving their cars underage drinking at the kiddie park tripping on acid outside Disneyland eating burgers fries and vanilla cokes at Bob's Big Boy on Adams Avenue riding our bikes everyday around town to Camel Records and Music Market getting stoned in Tony Nealon's side yard going to underage clubs and dancing hanging out at South Coast Plaza with friends going to motel parties getting drunk on the weekends on Harbor Avenue somehow passing classes year after year taking college exams graduating never having a steady love interest always knowing nothing lasts forever I don't want to watch this body grow old never have enough money to retire never be able to afford a car or have a job that pays for insurance can't go to the doctor or the dentist what's the point of this life America I'm sick of being alive poor hungry only getting to eat one meal a day why did my parents come to this country the land of milk and honey makes me laugh the land of opportunity fat lie live struggle suffer get sick and then die this country of fast food lies and neglect note our homeless veterans on the street in shelters badly in need of repair poverty in the face of Hollywood Southern California is a desert may the western wind blow it all away

In Memory of Lost Time ~ Saturday, 27 May 2017

If I could start over and relive my lost youth trapped inside a bookstore never would I have thought twenty-two years would pass like a prison sentence maybe I would have been a vagabond traipsing across Europe learning every language I came upon like a linguist outside the classroom door maybe I would have sat at tables in bistros in Paris and elsewhere originally made famous by those writers of the forties who fought real battles on the front lines in the resistance and wrote philosophy yielding to none the force of their dialectic never caught on the fence offering arguments systematic and sound to set scaffolds burning fierce unquenchable flames for all eternity watching the firemen fight losing battles against the tyranny of hope romantic yet unfair organized as poets shouting epithets at police their language wrought sulphuric in workshops inside dismal classrooms with a gleaming trophy to represent their past and possible future but their present is lost tossed aside like a gift from a gilted wedding abandoned for true love intrepid motorbike gangs pass by the melee over tires burning bright mighty outlaws outside those systems of language that govern at a cost exactly when will I discover the nature of time and rise above 

The Kids Are Alright ~ Tuesday, 16 May 2017

We may never return to those warm summer days buying gear in thrift shops eating Chinese for lunch walking in a downpour burgers at the diner memories take me back to our time together when we weren't so lonely as we had each other like four lonesome brothers who never felt teardrops yet today the tears stream down my face as I wake and listen to The Who never did I know then how easy our lives were that we could not return ever again our lives scattered after high school teenage dreams come to end verdant grass as I pass you in our cross-country race I win nothing finer endless the stream of tears girls we chased now women none caught but the homely rest assured I may jest but with our ugly mugs crooked teeth broken homes real love came much later too sexist to mature into grown men the glue entered our veins to bond us by both fear and hate we sit as bonfires burn treasure the memory of nights on the beachfront we lived so close we tend urchins along the coast like us lost to the tides too young to know the past reserves only future pain look forward always never back to our youth never would I accept this game with time to play drums not to write these poems take me back to the time we made music our band of mods and punks flew fast oblivion we found with wine and drugs I want it back I seek the truth

Didactic Mysticism ~ Thursday, 18 May 2017

First you have to make it before you get to die if you don't write the book under no conditions will strangers know to mourn the fact you passed away considering you left nothing behind to read but excuses and lies kangaroos have better chance in the lottery of fame and fortune look eye to eye with demons inside your heart and soul like cancer in your blood disease eats at tissues like a fine restaurant you could never afford 

Breathe brother breathe until your lungs can breathe no more then cease this restless fight even if you feel down deep you need time to finish you have much more to say you need to let it go no one cares at this point about red-eyed fruit flies or someone needs to check your priorities list as you enter the door needless to say your words are of little concern unless they stop a flood decide now that this life is more important than the chairman of the bored 

Resolve to make amends with the sandman for lack of sleep it isn't right even if everyone else jumps off the same bridge choose to be your own man please no one but yourself if what you do pleases others do not complain ask for help when you need learn to know whom to ask don't ever ask for more in the interest of God He knows how much time's left in your stunted lifespan remove the guilt and shame you carry on your back your star knows of your pain

Mallard Among the Spooks ~ Monday, 15 May 2015

Problems come problems go if we solve them by June we can balance the books if we catch the bastards we can lock up the crooks or they'll put us away take your pick they don't care they just want their money fair and square the bastards you know this will go down badly if we don't find Mallard among the spooks 

Young and Brown enter court sharp in suits to manage the facts with blatant lies our best efforts to find the dough went unnoticed by Flynn or so they say under his watch we lost the funds somehow noses powdered with cocaine nerds in college we made bombs for Afghan rebels shot Russkies against the wall

Mention the war out loud and they all simply laugh as if swatting at flies on the wall was easy like killing those stinking commies by firing squad then we watched the world change for the worse forever since we beat the red scare however we still fight as our enemies now are Afghan rebels odd even though the Russkies support for al-Assad prove our rockets' red glare removes the taint of war collateral damage aside we heard the call 

Yes No Ifs Ands Or Buts ~ Sunday, 14 May 2017

Yes no ifs ands or buts no one to stand before me in my way ever
ever ever I wish to leap over hurdles observe the sea otter
swim ever so fast under over between in case she needs to flee

never have I sat down so long to watch events unfold to see over
old age my youth run off in love with life I fear uphill I rise to climb

I stand to watch the tub fill up to flow over over the edge water
falls spills onto the floor soapy from the wash nothing to do I see
stand in terror over nothing no one gets hurt no one loses all hope

as if I can hold back water release the jam unclog the plug in time
nothing to do but watch to bear burden after burden I feel so lost
despite my age I look younger than most my age why it is I do feel
so much aware of pain we all suffer old age sickness dying I toast

old pale cognac in glass crystal without a fight to fist cyan to peal
ring knell the bell it tolls for me I wait to see if I ignore the trope

born neither black nor white never have I fit in or felt I can sever
unto humans their game as I see fit my age creeps up on me I die
tragic never to live like you or you or you stuck in my shell I cry
shards of cut glass in tears I laugh myself stupid I see death lover

Song for My Father (Canção para meu pai) ~ Saturday, 13 May 2017

Is it too late to start again to start over to stop and start over

control my fall to land safely to break my fall to halt to start again

ascend to feel the sun I look below to see how far I must descend

relax to rise higher to feel the heat to see how far I can hover

under duress I must confess I am falling ever so fast stop stop

stop my rapid descent I dive into darkness into despair I plunge

higher higher higher until sunshine melts wax feathers flutter I fall

until I plunge enter the sea hard as marble I dive beyond my ken

broken I die my skull shatter my bones batter never will I ascend

rise up lift me higher salty the sea my mind without a word to say

if I listen I hear I am legend in death in life my flight I drop

shimmer icy dusty comet azure brilliant blue sky I scream I lunge 

mask my terror enter the sea I dive I plunge I scream I lunge I call

your name father before I die before my death I fall I drown I hear

tin drum battle cry fly not too high nor too low into the sun the sea

how did I fall the heat the salt the sun the sea I dive into the bay

o gods you name the sea after disgrace my fall hubris I die I fear

silence the wine-dark sea swallow me whole legend I am now free