10 19 2012

Bleary on Broadway and Bowery,
southside revival in my heart as
I pass the days out in the city, the
willing unwilling and the ill-willed
even more willing to talk about the hell
that is addiction, loaded with super-
stition, now living for the scripture
on the streets sifting, sure, free?
Maybe.

Exist in Astorics

Astronomy in Astoria, ya
ain't real ; til ya write it
down ; watching time pass
its BAR exam and continue
to threaten me with its gnarled
hands, they're reaching
for my throat and in these last moments,
I question its authority,
its hold on us the majority,
but I realize I ain't no parrot
when I tell ya to wear it--
these colors ya be flying,
telling me ya don't partake, ya lying ;
fucking Winston Churchill once
said "ya can't be neutral on a moving
train," I'll say it again,

these things that I've said,
I ain't no parrot nor am I trying to be one,
not that there's ever anything new under the sun,
when the sun here is shrouded by clouds,
you and me fucking around downtown,
it don't mean nothing, nothing does,
Nothing means anything 'cept the clock with its
big man-hands on our throats, us the cancer
Earth wants rewrote ; ya
can either wear it on ya sleeve or face
the grief within, Jesus done savin' all
his men, where will ya run then? ; the circus ;
the circuits in ya brain rewiring,
didja know Wal-Mart's hiring?

aches in your brain leaving ya pragmatic,
dogmatic up in ya radical whack attic,
track-marked addict fanatic on sabbatical,
eating a bowl of cereal, shit's so surreal, but
God ain't in no attic, ya fanatic ; she's in ya kitchen,
radical whack addict, sneaking liquor from the cabinet,
while on sabbatical, grammatical errors be phonetical,
rhetorical, I ain't no parrot, muthafuckas. Don't
you ever forget, making all ya girls scream with ya panties wet,
ya radical whack addict playing Madden on your hidef set,
what kinda life do I needa have, what life do I live, these mountains I trek
I might as well scream in my underwear like a faggot off his meds
might as well melt instead, become a red, death that I dread,
hey muthafuckas, where's mah bread? I'll tell ya one
more time, better listen closely, profusely--

ya ain't real til ya write it down.

ya ain't real. period.

Isometric isolated
isotopes I sow into
the ground ideas
like appleseeds.

A shrine in my heart
and head lies in Central Park,
where the paths lead to man-
built reminders of god, of pray-
er, of leisure, of peace.
I pray to the spirit of myself
to this temple, on a medium-
sized ledge pink gorgeous vines
ripple down it toward the pond
at the bottom, and my mother earth
who gives me strength while
I face time out of spirit and into
the world. But this world can't
help me.

It's a gazebo, white with a trape-
zoid roof on a ledge with a pond
beneath it. Cry out for peace because
all this world is is struggle. Let us
be fish in this pond.

Coke Dealers Kill Each Other

Churchman checks our skiing inventory
while my girl named Laurie

presses her finger on the trigger,
stoic emotional rigor

it takes to shoot that gun,
Churchman goes down in the Filipino sun.

We grab our supplies and hit the turf,
skiers left and right come out of the surf.

Laurie 'n me make so much money off this wave,
but Churchman comes back to get some from his watery grave,

so Laurie takes the levers while me in my slippers
takes a semi-automatic and turns Churchman's shoulders to ribbons,

one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight,
it most certainly should have been a twist of fate

'cos Churchman remained unaffected
while Laurie looked dejected,

hands on her belly.
My bullets went through her like jelly.

And so, like any good man who knows his wife's about to die,
I pick the semi-auto up and tell her goodbye.

Carry on, Mr. Churchman, I grimaced to say,
"Was that a hot job," he asked, "was that a hot lay?"

Require assist to conserve our own just house instruction Planet instruction perform your own little bit right now!

Just house green Earth love my ordinary jerry-rigged megaphone crackling out fingerlicking Ferdinands tanning furs with Green Day's turds, 

Jerry rigs megaphone just our house, little bits of Green Day's turds perform fingerlicking Ferdinands tanning furs, just our brown love blue love green earth now!

Green is the color of the day and the earth, time and place both in one.
Green is the color money ganje trees and frogs, love and hearts bees and,

consequently, Irish wives who like to flog
their children or husband for getting out of hand,

hand, MANOS, hands, hands, the hands of fate, the hands that
bleed green envy Ferdinands!

Let's hope I don't ever actually talk like this in real life. One more time!

Just house green Earth love my ordinary jerry-rigged Irish wife fingerlicking
flogging fate, hands that tan furs go green, stung by bees, performing little bits of 

Planet Ferdinand Manos, Ferdinand! I am Planet Ferdinand Manos, and
I am here to avenge my father's death. You are here to die.

Jokes Aside

My time here in this particular
village has an end-- I'm glad for
it, I want safety now like I thought
I wanted freedom before.
The lady behind the counter in
her coffee shop uniform smiles
but what keeps me up at night in
my dreams is thinking of her, my
wonder-eyed thunder-minded girl,
rain to fire her rain my fire.

Let's pause for a sec while I grab
my heart and hold it to my brain.