woke up this morning...

woke up this morning
finding a tear just behind my eyes
a tear for memories not manifest
a tear for those that have slowly slipped away
slipped down life’s moving streets
across the seconds that pass
knowing that when your pockets are empty
dollars always fail to make sense

woke up this morning
with a smile just beyond my heart
a smile for joys not yet realized
a smile for those that have been possessed
fleeting moments
lucky enough to be found before they were lost
as the hands of the clock
walked them down the streets
to their inevitable end

woke up this morning
with a tear
a smile
behind my eyes
beyond my heart
wide open to the another day
slowly ticking away
dancing to the tune of the clickity-clack
not knowing if either one, which one
will break free to seize the day.

-2004/2006

Today in History...

On this day in 1942 James Marshall Hendrix was born and some would say that as a result so to was the guitar.

Castles Made of Sand

Down the street you can hear her scream you're a disgrace

As she slams the door in his drunken face

And now he stands outside

And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool

He cries oh, girl you must be mad,

What happened to the sweet love you and me had?

Against the door he leans and starts a scene,

And his tears fall and burn the garden green

And so castles made of sand fall in the sea, eventually

A little Indian brave who before he was ten,

Played war games in the woods with his Indian friends

And he built up a dream that when he grew up

He would be a fearless warrior Indian chief

Many moons past and more the dream grew strong until

Tomorrow he would sing his first war song and fight his first battle

But something went wrong, surprise attack killed him in his sleep that night

And so castles made of sand melts into the sea, eventually

There was a young girl, who's heart was a frown

cause she was crippled for life, And she couldn't speak a sound

And she wished and prayed she could stop living,

So she decided to die

She drew her wheelchair to the edge of the shore

And to her legs she smiled you wont hurt me no more

But then a sight she'd never seen made her jump and say

Look a golden winged ship is passing my way

And it really didn't have to stop, it just kept on going...

And so castles made of sand slips into the sea, eventually.

-Jimi Hendrix

Today in History...

One of the biggest conspiracies in modern memory began and with that the world did change...

The Gift Outright

The land was ours before we were the land's.
She was our land more than a hundred years
Before we were her people. She was ours
In Massachusetts, in Virginia,
But we were England's, still colonials,
Possessing what we still were unpossessed by,
Possessed by what we now no more possessed.
Something we were withholding made us weak
Until we found out that it was ourselves
We were withholding from our land of living,
And forthwith found salvation in surrender.
Such as we were we gave ourselves outright
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war)
To the land vaguely realizing westward,
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced,
Such as she was, such as she would become.

-Robert Frost

a criminal eye

I remember,
not too long ago,
just a few yesteryears ago in fact,
I would get on a train, a bus,
I would walk down the street,
go into a store and I was the bad guy
the thieving thief waiting to teef .
one of the sordid sort,
who needed to be watched
someone to be followed,
followed by floor walkers,
who pretended to shop worse than I
(it was fun messin’ with those fuckers).

shit, how times have changed,
back then,
sure I thought about stealin’ shit
and of course now
I see the opportunities, I can’t help it
laptops, iPods, briefcases, backpacks,
shit, so much cash money;
how unawares we people are.

now instead of playing with the floor walkers
I am warning people
of how vulnerable their shit is
how vulnerable they are
lost in their egos
their happiness
their fear
their cell phones
only now,
instead of squinching away from me
they smile and say
‘thank you’
sometimes with their words,
sometimes with their eyes,
sometimes they say it all in
a now knowing smile.

shit how times have changed,
from suspect to saint,
in the blink of an eye.

-2005

a couple old barflies #2...

there they sit
& here I sit watching them,
a couple of old bar flies
holding hands under the table.
like two teenagers trying to hide their love
while, w/their free hands they
wipe drippings of beer off each other’s chins.
the love of drunks
trying to hold each other’s heads up
to drink another
& smile for just a little while longer
drunks in love
how sweet it is.

“don’t talk about him, fuck how many times do I have to
say that shit”

the anger of drunks in love,
the love of angry drunks,
she tells him she is so sorry as
she tells him to fuck off.

there they sit
& here I sit watching them,
a couple of old bar flies
& I can’t help but wonder
what’s with her wearing sunglasses?
the love of drunk anger no doubt.
did they salt their beers in their heyday?
I bet she was the belle of the bar
& he probably fought in the alley
for beers or her honour.
now they meet the beers half way w/ mouths
their shaking hands unable to traverse the distance.

there they sit
& here I sit watching them,
a couple of old bar flies
stumbling to the juke
deciding on a soundtrack that steals back
the blurry years
drinking the pain
joy
tears
& laughter of their lives away.
how sweet they are
as she tells him to get the fuck out of her purse

there they sit
& here I sit watching them,
a couple of old bar flies
stumbling into each other
keeping one another from falling flat on their faces
if that ain’t love
I don’t know what the fuck is.

-2001/2004

cole's notes living #2

as the old adage professes,
a little bit of knowledge goes a long way
but what it forgets to mention is that
the long way could be a short distance,
a short distance to fooling us into
thinking we know it all.

we always seem to forget,
deny, denounce the fact that
one-eyed perception only hints at the truth
even so much so that
we can’t help but think
what we know is all there
Is.

what we always have to remember,
what we always need to keep in mind, is that
relying on a little bit of knowledge’s long way
leaves us thinking the book we’ve read
tells us the tale
forgetting the dust covered volumes
left on the shelve
the ones left unread, untouched,
unnoticed.

you see, a little bit of knowledge
does go a long way, a long way
to a short point
but never close to understanding the story
leaving us mis-confidently living on,
living off, the Coles Notes of Life
never realizing that its what we don’t know
that will most surely hurt us
will most definitely help us
when we find out we didn’t
know it all.

-2002/2005

dollar daze

another day another dollar
some earned but,
in the end,
all get spent as
we each go to the bank
to work
as we walk the street with our
glamorous shopping bags
sometimes filled only with
our lunch, while
pretending we just bought something at...
another day, another dollar
earned for and spent on
everything we need, and
others we don't.
fuel for our machines
made of flesh or steel,
heat, air and light
and sometimes,
if we're lucky
at least something we can enjoy
when we grow weary of
dollars and days.

-2006

even with all the secret stains #3

even with all the stained pages
even with all the tales told
those left on and in between
the lines
there are many, many more
secrets left un-posted
ones that I can’t remember,
some I have never told myself
some I’ve never known
and now there those that
You tell Me
behind the knowing innocence
of your smiling eyes

-2005

my Underwood

It started sometime ago, many days and maybe even seasons ago, when a friend got fed up with hearing me whine and wish and simply said, “You should just go to a pawnshop…I am sure You will find one there” and the other day I finally found out how very right she was.

It was Friday the 13th and I mention that not because I am superstitious but rather because that just happened to be the day that I finally remembered her advice before it was too late and I was at home already. For some reason I cannot pinpoint, that morning I decided to do it, to go for it, to follow my friend’s advice and see if a pawnbroker, a pimp of lost memories, may be able to fulfill my long held wish and have what I was looking for. So with my mind made up I sent an e-mail to my friend to confirm the directions and began to wait out the passing moments between sending my request, getting a reply, and being able to begin my search.

The day dragged on for many reasons: it was Friday, I had plans, and not the least of which was that the night before lasted a wee bit too long. But end it finally did and with the official day done my search could begin buoyed by the bounce found in steps toward a possible wish fulfilled.

Now the directions were simple, “go out of your office and turn left, east, until you reach Church then turn left, north, on Church and you should find the pawnbrokers”. Easy enough right? Well not exactly. You see, sometimes when I walk the streets I can become distracted by many a sight or thought…even if I am on a ‘mission’ I am susceptible to being sidetracked, it could be anything from the sight of a single leaf falling that I can’t help but follow gently to the ground, or the bloom of a flower, a student driver trying to paralell park or a car accident or even just capturing the beauty of a ray of sunshine caressing the backs of my closed eyes in the crisp autumn air.

On this day though it was none of the above, on this day it was something different that distracted me. I started out following the directions to a tee…out of the office, turn left and just have to look for Church street then another left and from there the real search could begin…but that start didn’t last very long as when I left the office and turned left I was walking into the early evening sun. It was actually soothing catching those soft rays in the chill of the afternoon and I almost looked at them as a good omen. Then as sunglasses covered eyes got their bearings I caught the sun glistening off the old stain glass in the huge centuries old church that engulfed my sight. It was mesmerizing, this historical building basking in the illumination of the late afternoon sky and needless to say I was distracted.

I walked all around that church, not too close of course but all around it and close enough to enjoy the architecture and the history that the was the building before me. It was magnificent, so much so that it wasn’t until I reached the other side and felt the chill of the shadows cast by the church that I snapped out of it and continued my search for Church street and then to pawnbroker’s row.

Off again I go, one foot in front of the other, in the front of the other, in front of the other, until one just simply began to follow the other with a sneaking feeling they were getting further and further away from their intended destination…and knowing the city, I realized that I had to have missed Church street, not knowing how but just knowing I did. So, with that feeling growing and the afternoon slowly turning to evening I make an about face and decide that I if I don’t find Church street before I hit the tunnel home the wish will have to wait another day.

Not wanting to give up without making sure I didn’t try to find it I kept my eyes open and my mind focused. I looked at streetcar route maps for a clue, I called every friend that might point me in the right direction, I even asked a couple strangers but nothing. As I walked I just couldn’t understand how I could be lost? How was it that I could not find Church street? It’s not like I haven’t been on the street before. Finally, I found myself befuddled waiting at a red light on the very corner where I first noticed the Church and seeing the entrance to the tunnel home in the distance I took the opportunity to capture one more glimpse of its beauty and that is when it hit me.

I was on Church street!

What should have taken me five minutes took me forty-five but what the hell, I was now on my way. Lighting a cigarette to mark the accomplishment I finally headed down Church to see whether I might be lucky enough and there would be a ‘broker with just what I was looking for. I could feel the excitement growing as I got closer and even as I peered through the windows of the first few shops knowing there was no pot of gold to be found it grew and so forward I went deciding I would let my dwindling cigarette decide when the first shop I would go into.

As I smoked my guiding cigarette I couldn’t help but look around pawnbroker’s row without one once of surprise at what I saw, it was exactly as one would imagine it. Run down dingy store fronts with run down dingy people milling about and the signs are faded with paint chipping or fluorescent ones muted by the dirt of life staining the windows and inside, well again exactly what you would imagine, floor to ceiling shit. Everything you could imagine, from swords to betamax players to gold and jewelry behind locked cases...a great experience.

Then as my right foot landed the left followed it to put out the guiding cigarette and, with its job done, I proceeded to enter the bowling alley shop the last cloud lead me to. It was in there I that I found it. Just like I hoped, right away I walked right to a stack of them and knew that wish was fulfilled...there it was in the middle of the stack...I knew when I saw the sturdy charcoal case, I knew I had it:

My first ‘typer; my fist Underwood.

Thanks my Friend I may have got lost at first but You were right.

-2006

friend...

tonight as I walked home
as I watched the cars,
the shadows and
the cracks in the street pass by
I looked up and was greeted with
a crescent moon
shining faintly in the mist
and I recalled the moments passed
drinking, thinking, smoking
playing chess
your science
my history
your math
my philosophy
you and your drawings
me and my words
figuring it all out as we fumble through
and stumble along
playing at life
like playing chess
Russian Roulette
Bloody Knuckles
and chicken.
smiling at full glasses
while looking for a page to bleed on
with livers and lungs laughing all the way
while the synapses, well they just
Explode!
into rainbows of colourful moments
lost and found between the rain drops
the ones that fall during a snow storm
of broken arms,
pilfered fruit, flowers,
all day ball hockey games
RCMP raids
and nights ended by empty glasses.
ah, tonight My Friend,
this evening My Brother
as I walked home,
as I walked passed the shadows on the night streets
I happened to turn and look up to see
a crescent moon
and at that moment, which lead to this,
all I thought was how I would love
to be playing chess in the mountains
with you.

-2005

subway musings 2001

in the subway
waiting
for love
a friend
loneliness
someone to jump
whichever comes first
@ least then the wait will be over.

on the train we all sit
each stop is one less more to go
until tomorrow when we do it all again.

up & down
eyes darting from ads to maps to empty spaces
all afraid to see
each other
or @ least be caught looking.

most of us too quiet
some are too loud
all on purpose
all trying to be recognized
whether it be for deafening silence
or muted shouts
all checking ourselves in the subway mirror
hoping someone will care
when we get off.

two more stops to go
then I can begin to call it a night.

-2001

rollin' and tumblin'

rollin’ and tumblin’
the passing days into
nights into yet
more days.

rollin’ and tumblin’
thoughts through the city streets
as the orchestral songs of life
provide the soundtrack that goes on
in one ear and out the other.

rollin’ and tumblin’
life’s little moments
into something to remember them by
sometimes tripping over a blank page
and like red wine spilt on a white rug,
the words that tell their tale will leave a stain.

rollin’ and tumblin’
sometimes more rollin’other’s more tumblin’
but either way always weathering on.

-2006

words on the highway

lightin’ a roach dube after
watchin’ a doc’ on good ole Buk'
listening to the music of another Friend,
one waiting on my words
ones that are working
themselves out
trying to find their way
between all the other’s owed
but I can’t help but think
how many were
are
will be wasted,
how many stains will be
about dead plants on a wardrobe
about the ones hidden in the new tv box
or the Cats buried in the only backyard at the Fuck You Finger house
or in the closets we all carry
shit how many stains will be apologies?
how many will be greetings?
how many be fare thee wells never to be known?

-2006

Today in history...

On this day in 1928 the world is introduced to its most influential rodent:

It was on this day that Mickey Mouse makes his debut with the release of "Steamboat Willie".

"Steamboat Willie" was the first fully synchronized sound cartoon ever produced, with Mickey's squeaky voice provided by Walt Disney himself.*

*Source: http://www.history.com/tdih.do?action=tdihArticleCategory&id=3787

the mind...

your mind
my mind
The Mind
the most punishing blessing
ever bestowed upon man
woman
and child

the beloved whammy
the creative engine
the destructive force
the vast factory of possibilities
and the purgatory of existence

the bright blue sky
of the self
the cavern of despair
talking
walking
dreaming
screaming
one foot stepping in front of the other

your mind
my mind
The Mind
watching it all

be careful when you talk to yourself
you never know who will talk back

-1999

quote of the day...

"It's hard to explain how much one can love writing. If people knew how happy it can make you, we would all be writing all the time. It's the greatest secret of the world."

-Andrea Barrett

more on this writer can be found at: http://www.salon.com/books/int/1998/12/cov_02inta.html

this day in history...

On this day in 1849, a Russian court sentences Fyodor Dostoevsky to death for his allegedly anti-government activities linked to a radical intellectual group.

On December 22, 1849, Dostoevsky was led before the firing squad but received a last-minute reprieve and was sent to a Siberian labor camp, where he worked for four years. *

*Source: http://www.history.com/tdih.do?action=tdihArticleCategory&displayDate=11/16&categoryId=literary

Had that reprieve not been granted the literary world would be without some of its greatest works.

Works that would not have been completed had he been executed include:

"Crime and Punishment" (1866)

"The Idiot" (1868)

"The Possessed" (1872)
"The Brothers Karamazov" (1880)

an epiphany in a tear

sitting there in the chair
watching as the words fly out
hitting the air like anvils on the sun
hitting me like a box of rain
an epiphany
a ray of truth
understanding...

the worse off we are
the more we hate
the more we find to hate
have to hate
to stop hating
ourselves

after all it has to be someone else’s fault
the job is gone
the power,
the phone,
were cut off
one after the other
until the rent goes too unpaid for the landlord’s liking
it’s the fucking taxes
the fags and their marriage
fuck they shouldn’t get benefits, leaching off the system
welfare bums
terrorists
fucking people getting sick
seeing doctors
taking the taxes
my taxes.

seems the worse off we are
the more we hate,
the more we find to hate
the worse off we are
and on and on it goes
until we can find someone else to blame

-2004

if only to sleep...

the hours grow wee
as the wakeful ones pile up
the cat wails for a desire to be satisfied
while the eyes try to close long enough
to maybe catch a dream, nightmare
or nothing more then a moment of slumber
before the light of a new day dawns
and comes crashing through the windows
notifying me that my time is up
that the opportunity, the chance
the reprieve found in the soft serenity of a silent slumber
has been missed once again
forever lost somewhere between the weight of the world
‘woe is me’ missives,
staring blank pages
and clouds of hope and wonder let loose on the world
like many messages in many bottles thrown out to the many seas
each carry with it a hug, a kiss and a kind word
smoke signals of solidarity and love sent out on the breeze
carried away forever
but the sadness that they are sent to serenade always remains
as the hours grow wee
as the wakeful ones pile up
the cat wails for a desire to be satisfied
and I try to close my eyes long enough
to catch nothing more then a moment of slumber

-2006

catching one moment of the night...

silence hovers just below the clouds
loneliness hides just over the rainbow
the books
the movies
the music
the memories
construct walls out of,
all around,
the stained pages
the stolen moments
the stoic mementoes
the stories untold
while in the shadows cast,
loneliness takes the hand of silence
and they begin to dance
swaying to the laughter of the night

-2006

Lest We Forget...

Something for your consideration:

http://www.dominion.ca/petition/index.php

Today in history...(part 1)

On this day in 1975 the Edmund Fitzgerald sinks in Lake Superior.

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
of the big lake they called "Gitche Gumee."
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
when the "Gales of November" came early.

The ship was the pride of the American side
coming back from some mill in Wisconsin.
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
with a crew and good captain well seasoned,
concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
when they left fully loaded for Cleveland.
And later that night when the ship's bell rang,
could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
and a wave broke over the railing.
And ev'ry man knew, as the captain did too
'twas the witch of November come stealin'.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
when the Gales of November came slashin'.
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
in the face of a hurricane west wind.

When suppertime came the old cook came on deck sayin'.
"Fellas, it's too rough t'feed ya."
At seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in; he said,
"Fellas, it's bin good t'know ya!"
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
and the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when 'is lights went outta sight
came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Does any one know where the love of God goes
when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
if they'd put fifteen more miles behind 'er.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
they may have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
in the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
the islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
with the Gales of November remembered.

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
in the "Maritime Sailors' Cathedral."
The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times
for each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
of the big lake they call "Gitche Gumee."
"Superior," they said, "never gives up her dead
when the gales of November come early!"

-Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald-Gordon Lighfoot

Today in history...(part 2)

In 1969 Sesame Street made its debut (the Canadian version debuted in 1972).

Interesting Note: In October of this year "Sesame Street: Old School Vol. 1" was released on DVD with the suggestion not to show your children as it may confuse them. Starting in 1969 I can only imagine.

Have a good day all!

back alleys

leaving the cubicle jungle
breaking free from the grind
walking the alleys
so I don’t have to fight the assholes in the streets
not the bums or the crazies,
they are safe (we would never fight)
but it is those loosening the tie
unbuttoning the top button
forgetting that there are
Others
in the street
there are Others
many, many Others
faces and backs of heads
dreaming
dreaming away
the nightmares that chase us all down
so I walk in the alleys
where it is safe
safe from dreams, safe from nightmares
because only Others
walk in the alleys
and sometimes
those are the only ones worth meeting

-September 2006

don't forget...

smiles
tears
winks
and winces,
frowns
furrowed brows
wiggling ears
and wide eyed excitement,
like a yawn
each and all
can get sorta painful
when overdone.

-November 2006

Today in Music History...

On Today's date in 1971 Led Zeppelin's fourth record was released.

It was an untitled record but has been referred to as: "Zeppelin IV", "Symbols" and "Zoso" respectively.

Have grand day all.

Today in history...(part 1)

"Man is the only creature that refuses to be what he is."

Albert Camus 1913-1960

Albert Camus was born on this date in Mondovi, Algeria on this date in 1913. He is a highly influential author and philosopher known for such writings as:

"The Myth of Sisyphus: And Other Essays"
"Resistance, Rebellion, and Death: Essays"
"The Stranger" (fiction)
"The Plague" (fiction)
"The Fall" (fiction)

Today in history...(part 2)

On this day in 1917 The Russian Revolution began.

It was on this date that Vladimir Lenin gave the order for the workers' militia to seize government buildings, and the coup met almost no resistance.

Then next day, Lenin was elected chairman of the Council of the new Soviet government.

Angel on Subway Trilogy

Part #1

the day explodes in my ears…
it astounds me every time
how, after all these years, that little speaker
can still ignite each one.
pillow over the head
blanket mummification
each vain attempts to soften the blow
finally giving up
getting up
Monday.

shower
shave
look for clothes to wear
forgetting the four failed attempts to get to the laundry
yesterday.
remembering the dry cleaning is @ the office,
I find a clean enough tee shirt
& pair of socks
mix matched of course
good enough though for this
Monday.

dressed,
w/ eyes almost open
& key cards clipped
I step into the day;
making it real.
walking through the rail road tracks,
slipping on the ice
falling into footprints of summers gone
fossilized for winter’s short eternity
revealed for a moment by a minor thaw.
the 7:37 flies by
delivering the daily commuters from the ‘burbs
as I watch visions of romance & intrigue float along the tracks
in mind.
crawling through the fence
I refuse a free newspaper & head underground
Monday.

the hustle & bustle of it all
Fuck,
it’s like everyone thinks they’re going to be late
I wonder if any of them ever are?
the day begins to drag on & it hasn’t even started.
on automatic,
@ the top of the stairs I see my connection,
“And They’re Off”.
refusing to run for a train,
I get a seat anyway.
camouflaged by the bodies of strangers
reading Dorian Grey
Monday.

the train pauses for at least a page
the doors finally close
& we are all yanked northbound.
I look up,
for no reason
& from out of nowhere
a smile & a wave
from a stranger,
& Monday
doesn’t look so bad.

-February 2001

*****************
Part #2

going home on the train
reading a short a story about a guy abandoned by everyone.
enjoying it
stop & go
the train chugs on,
always getting closer to home.
it stops again
& w/ out noticing, you sit next to me
the angel of the morning train
& conversation begins
the one always started
but never finished
taken to the end of the line tonight
by two people who have many times ever only met.
how nice it is,
telling you about what I wanted to give to you
reading you my written thanks
for the smile and wave
on the subway.
reading ‘cause you admitted you wouldn’t be able to
but still wanted to know
telling me you will be going to UofO
for a MSW.
glad I got to talk to you
‘cause after all I thought you were already gone

-June 2001

*****************

Part #3

last night we met again
for the first time
by chance as always.
if I’d stayed for another pitcher
another smoke,
another second,
I would have missed you
& never known.
this morning I found it,
just before I left,
the parchment w/ poem I carried for months
to give to you, in thanks
for the smile & the wave.

get on the train as usual
@ the back ‘cause there wasn’t time to make it to the front
walking up the stairs @ Yonge & Bloor
hearing my connection
not even considering running to catch it.
getting there just in time
for the doors to close.
& we meet again
by chance as always
this time, there is only enough time
to wave & smile
as the train pulls away
for a second I think,
“maybe I should have run this time?”
but feeling fine all the same,
because,
just like the first time
from out of nowhere
a smile & a wave
from a friendly stranger,
made my day

-June 2001

a conversation that never happened

“can’t you turn that sewer down!
I’m trying to stain some shit here,
Fuck”

“Can’t you turn that typer down!
I’m trying to make something Beautiful here!”

“Beautiful? you’re kidding right!
shit, that is just clothes,
yet another mask someone will wear
to keep them playing their unknown part…”

“what are you doing that is different?
so Special?
What are You doing that is so much better?
stringing some oh so precious words together
for what?
so no one will read them
and you can smile in your own darkness,
Fuck You!”

“Fuck me! Fuck You dancing Queen!
Touché,
by the way, what are you creating?”

“A new Look, and you”

“the same thing”

"excellent"

"we'll see"

what will happen to the Door Man?

clouds rise with the corner of a smile
as the tummy begins to rumble
while wondering about finding some fuel
what to do?
where to go?

fuck calling in, exhausted that shit
the Harvey's is closed for the night
and pizza filled the tank the last time
there is a variety of Kraft Dinner
in the cupboard
a bag of caramel corn on the bar
too bad the teeth are cracked and torn
and there is only green butter in the jar.
I know, I will hit the 7-11
maybe get a Dog with fake chili and cheese
maybe a rib sandwich with fake cheese and chili
maybe a salad, a pita
fake nutrition for fuel
maybe some butter to pretend to cook at home?
maybe a Twinkie,
a Ding-Dong
a Caramelo
maybe just some penny candy that never cost a penny
but rather dimes, nickels, and quarters
Bottle Caps
Sour Keys
Hot Lips
Big Feet
Nibs
forget the Green Big Toes,
what candy maker thought a giant green toe would be enticing?
Ya the 7-motherfucking-11!
I’ll go down there, give the Door Man a fag,
some change, maybe buy him a Dog with fake cheese and chili
maybe a rib sandwich with fake chili and cheese
maybe a salad, a pita
fake nutrition for fuel
maybe a Twinkie,
a Ding-Dong
a Caramelo <BR>maybe just some penny candy that never cost a penny
but surely cost dimes, nickels, and quarters
Bottle Caps
Sour Keys
Hot Lips
Big Feet
Nibs

“CLOSED FOR GOOD”;

What the FUCK!
a 7-11 “CLOSED FOR GOOD?”
how does that happen?
now what happens?
to the late night Dogs
the fake chili and cheese
the fake cheese and chili
the penny candy that never cost a penny
and was always paid for with dimes, nickels, and quarters
Bottle Caps
Sour Keys
Hot Lips
Big Feet
Nibs

clouds rise with the corner of a smile
as the tummy begins to rumble
wondering about
my biggest momentary problem:
where I'll go to find some fuel
all the while asking
the most important question of all...

-August 2006

thoughts...

“This is what happens: the sensitive and honest man opens his heart, and the business man listens and takes it all in, so he can swallow up the honest fellow”
-Fyodor Dostoevsky, “Crime and Punishment”


“I know that you don’t believe this- but don’t philosophize too subtly; plunge straight into life, without deliberation; don’t be uneasy- it will carry you direct to the shore and set you on your feet. What shore? How should I know? I simply believe that there is still much life before you.”
-Fyodor Dostoevsky, “Crime and Punishment”


“For almost a minute they looked at one another in silence. Razumikhin remembered that minute all the rest of his life”
-Fyodor Dostoevsky, “Crime and Punishment”