I smiled inside...I finally got a ride
it was a bus all filled up with heads
they looked me over and checked me out
and I just smiled behind
the guy in the back was eagle eyes cautious
the girls up front took my pack
my black pocket tee says nothing about me
my pants are dull and brown, the road is all they've seen...
but my boots, my boots, steel toes and, brown leather, epoxy and glue and sheet metal screws...and soles I cut out of cork from the bulletin board...they're covered in salt water and blood and tears and grease and diesel and sand and mud...ash and humus and dog shit too, oh yes, my boots will tell stories to you...
it didn't take long
I knew the words to all the songs
and they knew the words to my soul
the bus rolled on to where I was goin'
and my mind reeled out of control
it went this way and that with significant facts
hey dig this man, until thwack...
that awful familiar sting
it was the guy in the back
he gave me a whack
a flat handed smack
like something I'd felt somewhere before
I stood there in shock
as the tears welled up
and caught a smile
out of the eyes in the backs of my feet
it wasn't a whack, or even a smack
it was my brother from my dead family
(words will probably change a few times before all is said and done. . . )
Clouds blocked out the sun today
Like they did the day before
Now the world's a little colder
Since you walked on out the door
Guess I should have seen it coming
They're right though, love is blind
Thought for sure we'd make it
Never dreamed I'd be left behind
Heartache seems to follow me
Love's here and then its gone
Well the hardest part of losing you
Was finding me alone
What am I gonna do now
Can't face another day
Wondering how it all went wrong
And why you went away
Now the bed's so cold and empty
And my pillow's turned to stone
Yeah the hardest part of losing you
Was finding me alone
Clattering chime mumbles as myriad breezes blow.
Clunk chitty chunk, clunkety clunk.
Numb noggin knockin' against knee,
Memories turned to dust and spider sacks.
Chug chug chug, hill thug inhales deep
Then smoke curls through lonely eye sockets.
"Wanna dance punk?" Spinning cord holds it for now.
Boo woo woo, old dog grumbles and farts,
Spasming, dreaming, pawing wood pile,
Fat tick still sucking as legs dissappear.
"Fuckin' bug!" Thick fingers pop it like a grape
And leave it dangling for amusement.
Greasy dust cakes old bike parts with years of intended use.
Lost lipstick case fills with dirt to adorn lips already covered.
Piney breeze stirs carpal strands to aimless tickling
While numb noggin knocks out of time.
can’t stop scratching itching bitching and calling out loud the pain in my brain bursting forward and out through never stilled eyes that burn like ice feels nice then itch and scratch and bleed straight through until skin becomes a burden constricting conflicting and it has to be removed
what happened when the sea swallowed me whole and salted me through slowing time and speeding events that shaped my life while I was preoccupied with fixing my shoes
Roving dark masses eat light,
Morphing procession never lingers.
Streamers flying, fat underbellies soaking up sound.
Spoon floating, canned heat...showing some, most not.
Shades to keep out the sheep.
Wet work for the pros fixes the intrepid and the soft.
Jam happy tune toys and bill loads tie most,
Buy and sex the rest.
Fly 'em low and test the works.
Freak the civs ha ha ha...
Perhaps---Pathetic wanderings in lonliness one
Lonely-----Lonely in heart without sun
Exhaust---Exhaust in intellect reeking
I see-------I see a lie, a lack of any sum
Catalyst---Change remain mum
There's just nothing like walking through the backroads of a rustic old town in the rain.
Nothing rivals it, except maybe wandering through the deserted aging warehouse/cannery district of a rotting metropolis like SF.
Maybe it's the smell of the rainwater soaking into the old rotting timbers or the old tar smell of the road which the rain magically brings to life again.
But the rain is an integral part of it all.
Drip drip drip, and it's all comming to life; like some supernatural elixir trickling down to where the spirits are lurking within;
Reincarnating them to live for a time in the shadows. You can feel them then, if you have a soul, there's a depth of feeling that transcends the senses;
Surrounding and enveloping you, adding multiple layers of time until the density becomes almost palpable.
Whoever thought that old tar and rotting creosote soaked timbers could hold lifeblood within them?
But it's more than that; more than the rusty iron railings and smooth rail tracks.
There is a tangible residue of things done and times past here. There's a warmth of human blood.
There's a feeling of things accomplished and an assurance of continuance. And lurking beneath it all:
The strong thoughts of someone before seem caught in the chinks and cracks of the walls, teasing to be thought again;
To be recycled in the places that bore them.
Sniff snip stick-shift shlock,
Shuddering schlong-slobbering, salutitious Saracen's soul-smattering snatch-scathing salubrious saponification....speed!
Masticating mindless mandibles meticulously matriculate mindless masses, mandating more classes. Fat asses, seat plaster, faster faster fornicate...
Love lost, spines tossed, what the cost, look who's boss.
Halitosis Hallelujah, How the Hell are ya!
Spectral expediency want more wait and see...
Serve it up, swerve it up, stick it up, slick it up.
Nothing else matters.
World-whacking, mind-cracking, ass-jacking, shit-sacking,
Lip-smacking, fresh packing.
Wal Mart, war world,
Internet porno, little girls.
Wise-cracking ass-smacker Constitutional hijacker.
Crack-smoking whore-poking, hometown loser mind-rot boozer.
Camelot, came alot, who got shot, compost pot.
Transsexual hermaphrodite, Natural Born Killers, Michelob Lite.
Plaster-caster, alabaster, Masturbator of Disaster.
hooks for hands sitting smiling smoking passes the joint from metal hook to fleshy hand his box of false flowers resting on expensive coffee table. he goes outside and is home for a while, and he smokes in his house but keeps it meticulously clean inside the outside of his home and back in my living room assholes spew out words while outside inside his house hooks for hands sells false flowers but speaks the truth for free