How Nice of You to Come

how o how did i fantasize this and that, twas not poetic, i thought, twas not even cool, not a suburban gypsy bohemian outlawed ethic or a heritage brought to Connecticut from New Jersey, the old rock and roll idea, so, to speak. This day is like none of the others, not a cute setting, a bit misshapen out of sorts and improperly categorized before digitization, that is a style that i have become accustomed to. I am that techno hybrid that was theorized and worried about back in the day, Jack Shit and Ginsburg with no axes out here for me to grind…now what?

Poetry my motion is but surf upon all y’alls oceans, tis fuels and tools from schools, i saved them in clay wedges my saddle beneath  household idols and dove wings. Everything is handy now, books and ideas and cranks and spoons, shovels headstones plasticene porters and all for a WiFi connection…

i am set in my attic, two light bulbs are my upgrade, but we have Bose Speakers, so, i really don’t concern myself of smaller issues, like another shooting by a youngster in the United States, with some guns that his mother bought for him or didn’t, cut to the chase people, this is news, another ‘Deranged American’ went off the rails, or… another human amps out before our eyes? Only 26 dead. Is the human race evolving? or…is God creating something here that we are totally unaware of?  Stop all this bullshitting about gun control, the human race is in need of getting together to save itself from itself, the creation may very well be able to continue without us as we know ourselves now, Evolution or Creation who cares? Find out how you are going to be able to learn to live with this menacing development.  This is not science fiction and it’s not some biblical epic, BUT, if you are a scientist or spiritualist, old guard or New age believer  it becomes obvious that Something Is Really Going On Here….

i return to the reddest of wines for this day named for a sun god, blood of earth, fruitful change in fermentation, mellowing for the telling of tales ‘neath stars that glint upon the guns of desires with lusts for flesh, red wine vintage divine, holds promises and half truths to be self evident then dispenses but one level of perfection, prescribed beyond and before concepts hit the stages, for stomach esophagus and spleen, how red thy wine…

i bear the burden of your sorrow for your losses, i pray that you may be comforted by the Eternal Goodness.



12 11 12, is tomorrow the end of the world? i don’t want to miss that!

pain is beginning to settle in, i can feel hot pain spots in my lungs, shallow breathing, i sleep good with Oxycodone and Tylenol PM, weed is good for creeping anxiety, whaaaat the fock is ‘ creeping anxiety?  When i begin too think on my own asphyxiation there is a very quiet eerie sense that i am about to take my last breath, i don’t panic, i rest in it and wait the moment or two that it lasts, then…i get real quiet and it’s just like a wind passed over me. I am holding off all meds until i can’t endure it anymore, body functions pretty normal, the new anomaly is the onset of lingering pain, not unbearable yet.

The Mayans say the End is Near, Oh Good, i like a good ending to a story, that wraps the whole shootin’ match up nicely, maybe i’ll return as Mayan sacrifice, ya know, chop me up for firewood?  Or i’ll return as a hanging judge to see my enemies swing from a scaffold. Maybe i’ll just hang around until someone decides to put me out of reveling and warbling, 120 seems like a nice age to get planted as an antique. Mayans Aztecs Mestizos Gringos Jews Semites Negroes Mics and Scotchmen are petitioning for the partition of my boots and sandals for the benefit of those who don’t have a leg to stand on.

Cyber stuff is interesting, how we say things now in print, or on Skype or Magic Jack, or Facebook, how we’ve changed in our approach to each other, we know more and we know less, it’s the same masquerade…i am trying to get past all that and get rid of this cumbersome mask…

so what, i am going to die, so what the fuck do you want me to about it? go into chemotherapy and barf my way to the crematorium, Thanks, i’ll pass. Dying, so far has not been too bad, it takes patience when your number comes to the ticket taker, every movement toward your seat is remembered and felt and considered…is this the last thing i am going to do? Here? Wait, i may have left the water on in the bathroom or the light on in the hall…OK Silvia can get it.

I enjoy joking about it because it is just such a disturbing topic, who wants to die? And yet we all are in this continual process, though often unnoticeable, shedding of our skin, yes, it grows back, we are always recycling until it is no longer up to us. That’s all.