Archive for the ‘fiction’ Category

Ransom slashed,
Half past eleven,
Nobody sees ya,
Man ain’t got no time for that.

Slow ride east,
Left train,
Half past twelve,
On the Eastern track,
Going nowhere fast,
Lost my mind,
To a bottle of Jack,
July 10th, 1953,
In a waste paper basket,
Filled with fleas,

Resume broken,
No jobs,
For two years,
Except shoveling coal,
And other stuff,
Five years to life,
Chasing broken dreams,
Drinking those shattered bottles to dream.


We were waiting on the platform waiting for the booze to hit our brains, to remove us from this horrid dream, trapped in a box car heading for the moon.

The Pope was waiting for bus to Boise, Idaho, appearing as an old man dressed in drag, waiting for a hag. Who told the Man he could relax?

Communist pamphlets, wailing down, trying to find an angry hit, fucked in the ass, screaming with joy, at Christmas time?

Fireworks blew? Flew? Fuck, I don’t know, where were we, in faggish dress, trying to find a car to take us there.

We wrote, letters to the president, congressmen, writing to the moon, letters to our dead parents. How did we make it through childhood traumas, to not kill ourselves with chocolate flair?

In the morning, we woke up hung over, our cocks in our hands, our writings still in our hands, waiting to release, cosmic seed.

Joe flew into the night mare winds, trying to find that bridge, finding that dollar among the booze, a last smile as she screwed me.

Waklking through the streets, looking for a suicidal mood, a girl to fuck, a pregnancy scare, our boys can still swim, even at 82.

I was drinking, drunk at half past two, nightmares, dreaming of better times, listening to sad songs, a reminder of a better life.

Translations misunderstood, words thrown against a bitter sky, a lie, a kiss, a desire misspoken at half past midnight, oh bitter mood.

Running through madness
Looking for an angry fix,
Trying to find life,
In a bottle of rubbing alcohol,
Jesus at a traffic light,
At the end of the Universe,
Everyone wearing some kind of reflective mask,
To shine away their reality,
Hidden deep inside.

Dirty lies,
Flowing lyes,
Singing in the world’s shower,
Ninety Eighty Four,
Ripped from time and space,
Listening to the end of the world’s record,
In a crystal bottle.

Flying through a whirl pool,
Trapped in a fly trap,
Ain’t got not wings,
Lost them years ago,
Fellow man,
Here comes the last train,
To the Apocalypse.

Walking down a trash packed alley,
Life breaking up,
A toss of the light,
A twist of the moon,
In a song,
Written for you.

Sea, to see, those breaking waves,
In harmony of life,
Of colored sails,
Blistering in the waves
Of tropical sun,
To see,
Oh that bliss,
On the morning dew,
Before the evening rains,
We fell in love,
Oh serenade,
In hallow name.

No longer matters,
No meaning in that time,
So far away,
A new place,
I cannot travel,
Till the end of days.

Random jagged lines sketched into stone,
A merriment,
A moment,
Briefly explained,
In caustic tone,
Be brief,
Be tall,
Never cry,
Breaking free,
Upon shores,
Of broken glass,
And dreams,
Oh merriment of men,
Dashed upon those shores,
Ripped to pieces,
Oh joyous souls,
Dying to be born free,
I sat,
There in the darkness,
Counting dots of light,
Called stars,
Oh Brutus,
You died too young,
My friend,
Upon those shores,
Taken by your own hand,
Too hard,
That road called life,
Too many demons,
Marching through the streets,
Oh mighty Brutus,
We miss you still,
Has it been three years,
Since your passing?

Holy Moley,
Role a poley?
Sat down,
Back of the bus,
Where the stoners were,
Midnight dreams,
Of washed up porn stars,
Drinking flat soda on a bus,
Heading nowhere,
And fast,
We were the troupe,
Fancy Dances,
Clowns made of stone,
Grappling with angry angels doped up,
Freely falling through clouds of acid,
Calling out,
As we fell.

Jesus Christ is there,
Or just some Jewish fellow,
Wanting to be,
To be,

He said his name was Toby,
Fare thee well friend,
Looking for a gram,
A dram,
Some girl he left,
Somewhere down town,
Was this the bus there?
Do you have a line?
Go away friend,
Get off this bus,
You’re still savable?

Polish hot dogs,
Extra mustard,
For a kick,
Flick of some tick?

Where are we?

On a bus,
Heading nowhere,
Going there fast!

Darkness falls,
Embraces me,
In horrible memories,
To feel those dreams,
Made into reality,
Nightmares born,
To become my life,
Tearing me apart,
Ripping my heart,
Into pieces.

Fell from that grace,
A long time ago,
The brain,
A horrible place to be,
Trapped inside,
Falling far into Hell,
To hear the screams,
To see the life,
Like pieces of broken glass
Anger rage,
To break,
To pierce the skin,
Good night,
Oh that night,
Good night!

On the high water mark,
For the life of a fleeing flea,
Murdered before his time,
All fucking lies,
Can’t you see,
This is reality?

7:45, the clock strikes three.
Ladies of the evening,
Spread out before the feast,
Where has the king gone?
Lost his way,
Before he got to the bay.

Burning in the night,
Broad daylight,
Mission flown,
We are all going to die.

Lost in time,
Mission control,
There’s no life,
Can we come home?
No! No! The pilot is on his way!
Oh sacred child,
In one grand flight,
Into Heaven’s embrace,
Good night
Oh sweetly,
We do close our eyes,
To sigh,
To die,
The preacher lies,
We tried to live,
But failed at life,
Oh blessed fools.

Standing quietly inside myself,
Hearing those whispers,
Deep inside my mind,
There, in legends,
Lies those fables,
Hear the marching of the drums,
Beating down the walls?

In the land,
The mud lies deep,
Sucking in the feet,
Drowning the souls,
Held deep below,
Desperate to be free,
Can you hear the silent screams?

Climbing towards that freedom,
Unable to release the grip of insanity,
Falling backwards,
Into that brutal abyss,
Do you hear the dying light?

Hear me,
Oh blessed world,
This is here,
And this is now,
Where have all the flowers gone?
Lost my way,
A thousand miles from home,
Do you see,
Do you hear,
Do you feel the wind beneath your wings,
As you plummet to the ground?

Do you not,
Hear that dying voice,
Into that howling wind?

Who dare not see,
The troubled man,
Dying on the streets,
His hand outcast?

This displeasure,
Of misery,
To dare not tell,
Who they are?

Preach thy name,
Oh brother,
Oh sister,
Preach thy dying day!
The choir sings,
Oh glory,
To heaven’s grace,
To be,
That forgiving,
In live,
He was a poor man,
Begging on the street,
And in death, he is a sign,
‘Here lies a nameless man, remember him’

We sang his grace, his life,
Of what we knew,
His mother, who was still alive,
Did not know her son was there,
Laying cold on the sidewalk,
No one knew her name,
No one knew, except,
She was still alive.

Her son, oh her son,
Was buried,
In a pauper’s grave,
But we made sure,
His feet were not bare,
Shined shoes from some generous soul,
Socks, his were too worn,
We cried,
OH my friends,
We cried,
Dare not Heaven take him,
He passed away too soon.

Good night brother, sleep forever in peace,
Good night…