Archive for the ‘LIFE AND STUFF’ Category

I hope they serve beer in Hell – chapter one

I have decided not to blame President Trump anymore for the failings of our political system.

I should be blaming the people, the ones who vote on sound bites, charts made up by random numbers, media monkeys shitting on plates and calling it the truth.

I can’t watch the news anymore.

One side says the sky is falling.

The other side yells LIARS!!

And proceeds to says the sky is falling.

Failing us, the viewers, in their responsibilty to report the news, not make it up.

Donald Trump is our President.

Not by the people, mind you, but by the system.

He was elected, he will be known as our 45th President, written there in history, forever and ever, god damn it.

I know a lot of my friends who say not my president but I have to play the evil friend, that cock sucker, and say yes, he is our president.

Advertisements

Wandering down the street, coke flying high, each person a sole grain of sand thrown against the beach, wind blown into infinity.

Greats mingling with the whores, the homeless, the young hipsters, their coats pulled tight against the freezing winds and driving rains.

The street, a micropolis of puss filled wounds slammed against the dying of the earth, she weeps fire from her veins, raped in silence.

The sky becomes a dull gray, dreaming, while you are awake, sinister storms on the horizon, the sky, awashed in vibrant dark colors of misled fortunes.

Does death suit you, oh dear one, in Heaven’s embrace, where the moon holds you, till we meet again?

I could not feel my soul, it felt like it was already gone, my mind was left, somewhat, the body, a meat bag, walking among the other meat bags, eyeless hunks of flesh, crashing on the ground.

What a beautiful day,
The sky was blue,
And the tears were rain.
I didn’t feel pain,
I only felt that rage.

Nobody knows
What the sorrow knows,
Nobody knows
What the feeling is,
Pressed against the flame.

Every eyes,
Every body,
We are too sober to see the world,as it should be seen.

Flesh ripped from our bones,
When we die,
Will they care?
Will there be a memory?

We are the dreamers,
Blinded by madness,
Flesh scarred,
Bones broken,
Minds laid bare
To troubled times,
Against the tides
That is the world
Joy,
In that last breathe,
To see,
When the time has come,
And to be remembered…

Hello!

Tonight shared piece comes from my adventures as a homeless grocery store cashier I did back in the summer of 2017.

I kept a journal during those days; was suppose to be a day to day ramblings from that “low point” in my life; but to be truthful, I didn’t keep up and now find myself trying to remember things.

I drank beer and ate chicken I bought at my grocery store.

I sat and talked to folks who wandered into the park; their dogs excited at a chance for a meal of chicken bones and one stealing some of my beer.

“He’s a lush!” his owner, a man named Robert, said, chuckling.

Robert was a 72 year old, half blind man, using the magic of Mary Jane’s girls to keep the peace inside his head, a veteran of the Vietnam War, and peace activist later on.

We’d talk about everything; from politics to landing a sweet young lady who could smother us with a nice soft pillow.

Neither of us would even struggle we both discovered.

Other homeless travelers; looking for work, then moving on, would enter my camp but never stayed as it was just too “Rustic” (no fire pits! It got cold out by the marsh) and they would move on with a wave.

READ ‘THE HOMELESS GUIDE TO LIFE, THE UNIVERSE AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN’ BY CLICKING HERE!

I learned a few things out there; somethings I already knew but till you experience them, you won’t know the truth.

Most people out there, on the streets, do not want to be homeless.

A lot of them have jobs; the cashiers, cart runners, wait staff, etc.

They just don’t make enough money to be able to afford a place to live.

Yes, there are resources for the homeless but there are just too many of the homeless at one time to be helped quickly.

It’s a problem faced everywhere.

I ended up on a “Waiting List” for housing assistance.

A two year (at least) long waiting list.

This is suppose to be the land of milk and honey but there’s not enough milk nor honey.

Everyone is just one stumble from finding themselves in that same situation; without a home.

I was lucky enough to have friends who provided me a place to stay, to shower, etc.

And only found myself for a little over a month living under the branches of a huge tree in a park.

I was also lucky enough to have a job that paid enough for me to eat; to spend a few days in a cheap motel; where I’d shower, snuggle on the bed, watch cable TV and listen to the hookers next door moan out the song “Give it to me baby!” in D-flat.

(Also thanks to friends who sent me money also!!! Cheap beer is your sleep aide and friend out there on the street sadly!)

Today I am a lucky man; moving into my own place with my lady love, a new adventure, but I will always keep those life lessons learned that summer; never to take for granted those things I have; to cherish my friendship and to aid my fellow man when it comes time.

Yes, my dear readers, there are the career homeless; those who stay out there; for whatever reason but for the most part, the people out there are just like you; they just  stumbled and fell; they had the jobs, the houses.

In a lot of places; the homeless are treated as nothing more than animals; chased away, caged, stomped on, bused away to become other peoples’ problems.

The homeless shelters closed; for different reasons.

Attempts to start another one; up to code, are foiled by NOT IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD mentality.

Sadly, the homeless are already in the neighborhoods.

The screams of “Get a job” coming from the mouths of haters; hot coffee thrown into peoples’ faces as they beg or say nothing.

“Trash!” some folks yell, the same folks who call themselves “Good Christians”

The “Trash” at some point in their life before this new chapter were “Productive Citizens” with good jobs, beautiful homes, now reduced to a beaten dog, trying to find their way out of the mire of this homeless life.

Something needs to be done; no one in this country should be homeless or go hungry.

No child should go to bed with an empty stomach.

Everyone should have a bed and a pillow to lay their head; a basic human need you soon discover being a homeless person.

There is no excuse…..

 

 

Dearest readers,

It is another night and another piece I have written, which you can find the link to below!

FOR MOTHER LAND: “We deeply regret to inform you…” – A POEM

A lot of my poetry, works of fiction, mostly just arise from me, wanting to be shared, from someplace, and if I feel like it (truthfully, sometimes I just want to hide under my covers and not lift them up till forever, which, sadly, has been happening a lot lately!!) I sit down and begin writing them down either on the old trusty laptop or a note pad.

Most times, when I write these pieces, I’m feeling pretty bright and cheerful but the words are far from that point of view; the words can be dark, almost too dark, but they need to be sent out into the world.

I try to share; sometimes I think there is another world, somewhere, trying to speak and my mind is the only one listening.

If that’s the case, this piece is from some young lad, barely in his twenties, which war, I have no clue, any war will do.

Into madness,
We saw ourselves go,
Propelled there by our might,
Our own will,
Our eyes held closed,
Against the blinding of the light,
Bombs bursting in air,

One of the lines from the poem, it just popped into my mind as I sat at the kitchen table and opened my notebook, the same notebook holding my “Homeless diary” as well, I’ve kept it as a notebook for my life, jotting things down as they come to me.

Someday I hope to get it published.

Someday again, another of those things that very rarely ever comes, like tomorrow, it never comes.

We stand there and wait, someday, tomorrow, echoes from our past, our father’s words,
our mother’s, children, does not matter, tomorrow, that mythical beast, we are forever in pursuit of it, to the grave.

So we should, it is written, live for today, keep the memories alive, but only peek at them sparingly, to live in the here and now, something I need to learn to do myself.

Good night my dear friends, until I speak with you again….

02/25/2018 – Someplace on the Planet Earth

4155429332_b113e06e09_b

Dear sirs and madams,

Hi!

How are you?

I keep waking up breathing, which according to the doctors, is a good thing.

“Yay for waking up breathing!” cheers the nurses who stand by to stick me in the arm, to draw my blood, that life force that keeps me breathing, I guess.

I’m not a doctor though.

I’m barely a human being; just the skin and such, to make me able to walk among the hairless apes unseen by their unintelligent eyes.

If they saw my true form, they would still go about their daily business.

CLICK HERE FOR MY NEWEST POEM – INFORMED INSANITY – A POEM TO READ IN A CLOSET WHILE THE DEVIL STEALS YOUR BUILDING BLOCKS

So, after my ordeal of being pricked and prodded, I lay here, half naked, a flimsy robe covering my nakedness, the nurse coming in on the hour to see if I need a sleeping pill.

Oh no you don’t mind sucking demon from the Planet X’Neon!!! I’m on to you.

I’ll stay up and write, to tell the outside world about you, to tell them how you steal minds, put them in jars, to sell to the Martians or trade Iranians for free porn on Craigslist.

I’m on to you!!!

EAT LASERS ALIEN SCUM!!!

My fingers are registered deadly weapons in 17 universes and 23 alternate universes, including this one.

You just don’t know you’re dead!!

Ha ha!! FOOLS!!!!

Do you know, that, when a cat shows you their belly, you should scratch it?

This tells the Universe, I’M DONE, I’m so gone, I don’t care if the cat kills me!!

And the cat will respond by purring or stealing your wallet and go on a spending spree!!

Stupid cat.

I only have  a $1.95!!

Anyways think it’s time to fall asleep, to meet her there in dreamland.

She knows who she is!!!

Your friend,

ME!

 

 

lights-1254324_960_720

2/21/2018 – Somewhere

I’m up for the count, just sitting here in the kitchen, listening to some music, wrote a poem for my other blog, it seem like the good thing to do, another sad, depressing shit random fest I like to do, just sit down, and begin typing, letting the words flow from my mind.

Click here for Broadway and Filth – A Poem

Still sitting here, 1:30 in the am, the darkness is deep and black, no moon.

Thoughts are crossing my mind.

THE ODE TO THE HOMELESS LIFE: Written in the summer, while I was homeless for a few weeks, just a taste of that life, enough for me, to lay down on the ground, to stare into the night sky, the stars my company.

THE ODE TO THE HOMELESS LIFE – A POEM

…The ground, your bed,
The sky, your covers.
Live life as you live it,
Not as you wish,
Take each breath,
A gift from God.

In the still of the night,
I lay here,
Wishing to sleep,
To dream,
That of green fields,
A soft bed to lay my body,
A pillow to lay my head,
A quilt to cover me.

I am tired,
But alas,
I cannot sleep!

 

Pine_creek_falls_2

THE FISHING HOLE – A SONG IN CELEBRATION OF LIVES

There, on the creek, a fishing rod in my hand, I did find God, not as some mythical being but a thing of peace and tranquility.

We, me and my Pop, would fish that creek for hours, moving through the trees, fishing hole to fishing hole, trying to outdo each other in the numbers of trout caught.

It was an escape from the world, down there among the willows, shadows glancing off the waters.

There were no bills to pay, no world outside the pine trees, the creek, only the things that nature brought.

It was in that place I felt nearer to God than any church could ever bring.

Near a good fishing hole, my grandpa is buried, under a tall granite boulder as his headstone.

It was my grandpa’s favorite place in the world, sacred, with raspberries near by and enough trout to feed an army if one could stand long enough to catch them.

It is a place settled out from the hustle and bustle of the “normal” life; cast out the line and ponder the ripples, hear the eagle high above, the deer moving through the woods.

I have my pop and mom’s ashes with me; I soon will be burying them near that boulder, to hear those sounds, now in memories, as a song in celebration of their lives and mine as well.

Click to read my newest post on my other blog – THE DEAD DO NOT DO – A POEM