Archive for January, 2016

My Walk This Morning

January 29, 2016

I see a
middle-aged man
face weathered with defeat
sitting on a half wall
scratching thick stacks
of lottery tickets
using a nail file
loser after loser…

I see an old man
engaged in the struggle
to free
a well-browned Christmas tree
from the stand
before January’s end…

I see a young woman
in a fight with a pay phone
she screams and strikes the thing
throws the receiver
leaves it swinging
as she flees
on the run
loose red skirt
waving behind…

I see another man
one now on a bike
a bag of laundry
in a plastic garbage sack
draped over the handle bars
he calls out to me, “Hey, pimp,”
he says, “You out for a walk?
I like walking too.
Be careful out there.”

It’s advice; I’ll take it.


Music, Teat, Music

January 26, 2016

you need the supporters and the fans
the kooks and weirdos
writing their anti-what’s-it screeds
in their limited run
hand-numbered ‘zines
a scant smattering of the too many
untuned bands
out to rehash
thirty year old potatoes coated in mold
the kids in the squats
cooking, cleaning, organizing
even vulture agents and managers
clueless promoters
local king shits of the scene
but for all them counted
across the countries
the brunt of punk
the maintenance and life
of the scene
rests on the shoulders of the few
without whom
all of it falls
into powerless disorganization
impotent chest-beating
casted blame
laments of victimization
and hucksters
selling tattoos, Mohawk porn,
drugs and alcoholic romanticism
to rebellious rebels
rebelling against rebellion
as they put on that cracked Crass record
for one final undignified spin

Frat House Fairy Tale

January 25, 2016

When upon the couch your prostrate form I did encounter
Bellowing snorts and snores did give me proof of your slumber

Amidst the cans and bottles strewn to you I tiptoed swift
To awake you with a kiss and break the spell of the witch

But when my lips to yours proved not enough to you revive
I endeavored to do more and to do more I did strive

Fast and quiet from under skirt I pulled your panties free
And gazed upon your treasure as I crouched between your knees

As your valiant savior I stuck brave to the task at hand
And to the occasion rose to halt the witch’s command

Against powers of darkness I thrust onward to defeat
I felt victory assured in my passion’s growing heat

First the evil did attempt to tighten its velvet grip
But long and hard I battled and felt movement in your hips

Knowing the time had come I unloaded with all my might
When yet still you slept I knew wickedness had won the fight

Ashamed of my failure and sickened at your sleeping sight
I wiped my cock clean in your hair and slunk off into night

To the End

January 22, 2016

In the windows of the train
as it passes
the people in profile sit
heads bowed
attention fixed
on the phones in their hands
like a congregation
prayer books in hand
reading along
as the pastor speaks the devotional
all fully rapt and waiting
to recite their part
“And also with you,”
as at last they reach
the terminal station

The Etiquette

January 19, 2016

There are rules of magic
take for example
the Fairy Godmother of Cinderella
for all her inspiring skills of transformation
mice into horses
pumpkin into carriage
rags into a ballroom gown
it all has a shelf life
powers must be capped
for both the good and the evil
even the spellcraft of the wickedest
by necessity
must be potentially limited
in its scope and duration
escapes must be granted
something as simple as a kiss
although defenses can be mounted
to prevent the unconsenting sleeper’s defilement
these too will fall, given time
lo, one hundred years,
but one day
a wayward Prince will come
and come again
thus it can be seen
white magic ceases of its own volition
whereas the black variety
by design
to terminate
requires a crime
a transgression
a rogue who
upon finding beautiful women, unconscious
knows but one way to react
and as the hero, he doth rise to the occasion


January 14, 2016

I caught him in the act once
not him
but one of him
in his gray hoodie with the hood up
dull red pin eyes pissed
staring at me
angry at my audacious haughtiness
that I would dare call him
on his vulgar defacement of private property
scalpel up his sleeve
as he moves it against the window
scratching his impotence against glass
the ultimate gesture of limp powerlessness
a flaccid attempt
upon the iron cunt of the world
his insipid weakness
churns the rage in my guts
an insuppressible sudden urge to violence
this fucking criminal
is challenging my gaze
his thick, slow tongue
struggles within its monosyllabic cage
to articulate a single word
“What?” he says
but I won’t look away
he tries to project hardness
he succeeds
but I know him
know he is soft where it matters
and the advantage is mine
as I take it from him
and push it all deep inside

Time to Die

January 12, 2016

a full El Salvadoran breakfast:
chorizo links, crema, eggs,
queso, black beans, tortillas,
plantains and a mug of black
cinnamon laced coffee
sat half destroyed
on the cafeteria table before her.
“Feeling better?” asked the nurse in charge.
“Yes, did everything go as it should?”
“The producers aren’t totally pleased.
Wonderful material though,
they say it’s quite moving,”
said Nurse Ellen
as she wrapped the blood pressure cuff
around Nadine’s arm.
“Producers? What about the techs?
They already have footage?”
Nadine was confused
they often were after
“Relax or we’ll get a false reading,”
the nurse said as the cuff constricted
“This is time travel.
It’s all been done
a hundred and two years ago,” Ellen explained.
“Of course, it’s disorienting.
I guess it’s all good.
Mind and genome mapped,
instructions executed.
I bought the ticket and died?”
Nadine frowned
“158 over 90… a bit elevated,
but expected,” Ellen said
as she measured the pulse Nadine remained quiet
“Heart rate: 68, low end of normal.
You were on a hijacked plane that crashed into a field.
There were no survivors,” the nurse answered
“That’s not what I meant,” Nadine said a bit snippy.
“Yes, how?”
“Like everybody else.
Like everybody who’s ever gone back,”
Ellen’s voice filled with sorrow and remorse,
sorrow for what can’t be changed
remorse for all who try and fail to change it
“Good,” Nadine said. “The nanite exploded.”
“Cause of death: aneurysm, of course, but
you were an unidentified victim,” Ellen said
“But I tried to help,” Nadine confirmed
“You did.”
“Will they use me again?”
“The producers have expressed the desire,” Nurse Ellen said,
then added, “Unfortunately.”
“Oh, no. Where are they sending me?”
Ellen cringed, “A village
in the path of Mongolian expansion.”
“I don’t speak the language.
I’m white. How on Earth will I fit in?”
“They’re growing you right as the horde arrives.”
“I’ll be brand new: raw, hairless, naked.
What kind of show is that?
I’ll be raped a hundred times
before the first commercial breaks,” Nadine argued
“That’s the show they want.”
“But what if I survive?
I could alter the past.
My European DNA in 13th century China,”

Nadine panicked
History can’t be changed, she thought
that was the whole point
they calculate the Earth’s location
both in time and space
based on universal expansion
galactic rotation
global revolution, etcetera
anchor the portal’s end-point
open our end here
send the nano loaded
with the genome and mind maps
execute the operating instructions
in a pile of dead organic matter,
grow me, and walla!
harmless time travel, but…
“My God!” Nadine cried
“They could kill us all
for entertainment and profit!”
“Nadine, please, your blood pressure,”
the nurse said
“This is time travel;
it’s already happened.”
Nadine edged into hysteria, “What?
What happened then?”
“As always you died,
raped to death in under three days,”
the nurse said consolingly.
“Oh, thank God,” Nadine said,
relief flooding through her
blood pressure dropping

Rape of Time

January 11, 2016

“Seizures, nausea, narcolepsy,”
warned the side-effects portion of the contract
“auditory and visual hallucinations,
delusions of grandeur, martyr complex,
vertigo, anal leakage, belief in ghosts,
reproductive urges, suicidal thoughts,
blurred vision…” tiring of the list
she rapidly perused the rest
and signed as she knew she would
as everybody would
successful return rates
were now up to 42%
bringing back a hit
meant fame and fortune
and she was ready, she felt
for whenever she plopped down
ten years of history books
paleontology journals
archeological texts
and from what she understood of the process
this time-mining business
might not have much longer to profit
the present remains, thankfully, intact and stable
but the past has gotten exceedingly fucked up
hundreds of twisting, curling, entwining lines
diverging, conjoining, commingling
an insane admixture
of possibilities thrown at the wall
and not a thing wasn’t sticking
the past was a limited resource
but for the sake of future generations
it had to be depleted and trashed
the light above the door went green
Kay pushed her way in
there was a wash of air
as the wind curtain shot a sheet downward
to keep out any would-be
time travelling flies
behind her the entrance sealed
the room was Spartan
a tablet and a pedestal and a fold-up cot
the operator worked the tablet
and the pedestal would work her
“Kay,” the operator smiled
“this way please…” Kay walked to the pedestal
and mounted it
“Um, no. The bed if you like,” he said
“I wasn’t aware of a final exam,”
Kay said.
“There isn’t. It’s just that
one of the symptoms, reproductive urges,
I understand it can be painfully acute
and coming before you go
can greatly alleviate the pressure.”
Kay’s eyes widened
she didn’t want to,
but automatically checked him out:
fit, young, coarse features
what with imagination could be called rugged
she shook her head
“There’s a line of women out there
waiting,” she said
“So? They’re going back in time
maybe now
just maybe to never come back
same goes for you
aside for pain management
I might be your last chance ever
loads of history
a lot without humanity
you’re aimed at 600 CE Arabia
making you a Muhammad hunter
is that right?”
Kay didn’t answer
“There’s been quite a number of you
and you may end up there
or not…
What do you say?
One last tumble
orgasm guaranteed
I’m very good at cunnilingus.”
“Shit on the self-assessment of your skills
and send me on my way.
Does this approach ever work?”
Kay’s fists clenched, nostrils flared
the operator
cocked his head and said
“42% of the time.”
in a frowns width of delay
Kay removed her gown,
laid back on the cot,
said, “I want at least three,”
having quickly concluded
coming was equally important
as coming back


January 2, 2016

As I season my cast iron pan
still wet from the wash
I wait while water
from the heat on the hob
steams away
so I may
pour on the oil
and I think of the Earth
and all we are about to lose