I don’t know, I just feel so sad so suddenly. I miss the way I’d be able to count on you for loving me. For being the only person in the entire world who would drop what they were doing and come be with me, even if that meant lying to your parents and my parents. I believed in a future with you, and I could reach out and feel it at any given moment. Life with you was so tangible, so beautiful, the very idea of it embraced me as you had so many times before, holding me closer and closer to you until we’d mend into one person. I love you so goddamned much, but it’s not enough. It will never be enough, because I can’t bring myself to give it all away. But I hope you feel it when I fall too close. I hope you feel it as my car drives down your street, exactly where it shouldn’t be. I hope that when you walk through the sea of fallen leaves at the park, you are drawn to the picnic table where we always sat at. And I hope that when you sit down, you’ll see it, my message to you, engraved in the wood with everything of mine.
And we're purging to be pretty,
and smoking to stay thin.
Starving until our bones feel light as air.
Wearing make-up like a mask,
using clothes to advertise the goods, to
make the boys want us
Mistaking life lessons for soul mates.
Physically putting out and
emotionally shutting down.
And we're dumber ourselves down.
Acting stupid because it's cute.
Hiding our wit because it's unattractive.
They want lady in the streets and
freak in the sheets.
But on their schedule, not yours.
But the lady has to be a tramp
And the tramp has to be domestic.
It's a trap.
And we're used up
We're twenty something and giving up on the world.
We're twenty something and dead inside.
And taking it all in stride.
In ’68 Hutch and me,
Sitting at the bar drinking
Our third cold beer.
In a semi Fern Bar
In Laguna or Newport Beach
Which now, I’m not sure.
It was around eight or so,
A week day night,
The place more empty than not.
She came in alone, made
Entry like the dramatic host of
A TV show. As if she were the
Center piece on the worlds
Thanksgiving Dinner Table.
Over dressed to the nines,
Lots of color, heavy make up
She didn’t really need.
Her perfume scent hovered
Around her like a cloud of insects
On a hot summer night in a wet meadow.
Kind of made my eyes water up.
She perched daintily like a dancer,
Upon a bar stool,
Three empty stools down,
Nodded to the bartender her regular order.
A martini, a double it was,
With but a dab of vermouth.
One green olive on a stick.
The glass was pre-chilled as if
It had been waiting for her.
She pounded the first down,
Another stem glass appeared,
That one also quickly consumed.
Two bright red lipstick stains all that
Remained in or on the stemmed rim.
Her main task accomplished,
She audibly exhaled,
As if tired or relieved.
I could not tell which.
Turned around on her stool to face
Hutch sitting closest to her.
“You boys Marines.” She declared,
More than inquired.
Hutch just nodded, he never did say much.
A Sniper just back from Nam, a scary guy
Of few words.
She opened her fur trimmed coat and exposed
Two very nice stocking clad legs,
And just a quick flash of red underpants.
Rotating towards us so we got a better view.
She announced her name,
like we should know it.
Our blank stares informed her we didn’t.
Her face was to me, somewhat familiar.
From movies in the 40s or 50s.
We were early 20 guys, she much older,
Trying hard to look younger, not succeeding.
Soon she was sitting right next to Hutch,
Two more Martini stems had come and gone,
Her lipstick finger prints upon them.
And still Hutch had not spoken more than
Three or four words.
She bought us a pitcher of brew,
Hutch grunted a short bit of gratitude.
We did not have to say much, she was in charge.
It was all about her, she rambled on and on
Speaking volumes saying not much at all.
Beating back her crushing obscurity,
With flowery reminiscence recall,
Of glory days then long gone away.
Important for the moment, if only to her.
It was all; “me and I, I did this, I was that,
I slept with him,
And him and him”.
How about so and so? I asked,
“No Darling not him, he was gay!
It was not long and she was touching Hutch.
On the hand, the shoulder, she was working him
With languid hungry looks from her big blue eyes,
And the message could not have been plainer,
Had she held up a hand lettered sign.
I don’t believe she was a “Working Girl”,
Just someone very lonely seeking to find
Herself, and some company for the night,
All to prove that she was still alive.
Looking at her, I could only think,
How sad and pathetic she looked,
How desperate her plight.
To humble herself so,
In that dingy bar, among strangers,
She did not know, Acting yet, still
On the only stage she could find,
Staring in her own bad ‘B’ movie drama.
In that dingy smelly bar.
Hutch and her left after a hour or so,
He never told me much about it.
He was unofficially AWOL for three days.
I covered for him, kept his name off the
Missing Morning Formation Reports.
No one cared to check. Our unit made up
Of mostly guys back from the war,
A pretty loosie goosy outfit.
Once in a while I see an old movie,
most are Black and white, Film noir stuff,
And there she is, a much Younger her,
Looking pretty damn good,
Not real big roles,
Playing some damsel in distress,
A mobster’s gun moll,
Or unhappy Play Girl.
I guess it was type casting that done her in.
Or maybe she got a little too long in the tooth..
A sad ending to a short B movie career.
Life ain’t easy, even for a so called “movie star”.
Fame is not all it’s cracked up to be.
one or twice, looking for Hutch. He told us to tell her that he had been
Shipped Out, when he actually hadn't. She no doubt found someone
else to tell her story to.
I saw that woman the other day on TV, an old film on Turner Classic Movies
doing her thing. I sort of wonder what ever happened to her, but refuse to
Google it to find out. Some information you don't need or what to know.
It did inspire this little Poem Noir write however.
Got a letter from Hutch in '70, we were both out of the Corps. He was
headed to the Arabian Desert as a hired gun, to guard some pipe line
operation. Have no idea what became of him after that. Hutch was
a real hard case, I hope he made out all right.
As emotion rolls out those close around can see the pain deep inside of me. The nights when I lay awake in vain, haunted. It's the fact that your presence keeps sweeping over me. I can see you just like before, your old pickup truck and your flannel jacket torn. Your eyes so bright, so full of beautiful life. little did you know your major role and impact on life. Gone but not forgotten my memories play, I'll never forget that day, when I was forced to give you away. With the echoes of my hurt heart beating everyday I remember you, and all that you used to do. There is never a more true statement then the one that Last i Heard come from you, when you had said "son I love you". I've laid awake these countless nights dreaming about you and your wonderful life. But it hurts, my heart hurts! It yearns for you, it's like a massive hole that's just ripping me into two. I just hope that you miss me to. And I promise I'll hold that moment, that last moment that I got to see you.
The Frustration Is driving me insane
I thought I was Abel then turned out to be Cain
Sometimes I just want to step in front of a train but
that would be to easy these days seem so much the same
Patience is a virtue yet I'm frustrated and may hurt you
only to feel bad because the human in me hurts too
My quest for happiness is like a trek to find the end of a rainbow
I've lost my light and my path I don't know which way to go.
Seems a lot of people would like to see me fail and
well I've done just that since my boat has set sail
It's a wonder I'm still afloat seems it's not my time to die
I can't even control emotion at random moments I cry
Abused, abandoned, I wouldn't pay my own ransom
I'm damaged, unrepairable, yet somewhat handsome
Life threw me a fastball and I struck out every time
my days consist of nothing No wonder I learned to rhyme
trying to climb my way out of my hole hoping this may be my gold
I haven't accomplished much of anything at 23 years old
Yes, I've wrote a bunch of non sense
but to my name I have not one cents
I'm actually in debt for sharing my two cents.
College is my blueprint
My life is like a comedy I, myself laugh maniacally
at one point someone thought I was inspiring.
I write and smoke a lot hoping to ease this stress
as I feel the rope tightening around my neck
The lightning bolts my only hope the reason I log on
if you didn't give me strength there's no way I could write on...
Thank you to everyone for your support and love
it goes along way.
Because every little thing in my life reminds me of you. Everything. I see you in the books I read. And the songs I listen to. In the movies I watch. Every thought that goes through my head leads back to you. And I can’t help but think that you are the answer to my problems and the end to the pain. But thinking like this is a dangerous trap. Thinking like this gets me hurt. And I don’t think I can take any more hurt. Liking someone like you makes me realize that I will never be good enough. I will never be right and you will always deserve better. I know I can’t be that for you and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m just a messed up, talentless, ADHD teenager who has no control over my feelings or words. I’m sorry that I’m not all you want, because that is all I want to be. But I know there’s no point because you’ll leave me anyway. Everyone does. Everyone just walks away with no goodbye. I am always the second choice, the back-up plan, the alternative until you find someone better. And I’m just tired you know? I’m tired of trying to put up with all this shit and telling myself that there are only 3 more years till I can leave this fucking state and leave all the pain behind. But a lot can happen in 3 years. And over any other emotion, I’m just scared and lonely in this nightmare that I call life.
Some fools are born, conditioned by fate,
And they, like all, still procreate.
All useful knowledge flees their minds,
As selfish life fulfills these swines.
And while they swing and cheat for joys,
The watchful eyes of their little boys
Do take a look at what they see,
And what they see is “A bigger me.”
Their little girls, in company of dolls,
On occasion, foresee what befalls
Upon them, too, as they soon explore,
An impending battle of love and war.
But then, there exists that little kid,
Whose sex and gender shall remain amid
A cloud of irrelevance and mystery:
Their wisdom calls most urgently.
As this kid sees a life unravel
Along Lacanian stages of travel,
Concerned are they with the fuss and mess,
Which most adults do not confess
To what they cause and what they bring,
Most taken in by their offspring;
And as one parent lacks all the care,
The other lives a life unfair.
In times of chaos and audacious cuss,
Dear vengeful killer, Oedipus,
Consumes all facets of the mind
Of the little kid who must confine
All pain, and hatred, and all rage,
Enough to place one in a cage,
And leave one there to squirm and rot,
Like a lobster boiling in a pot,
And free the bird whose wings to fly
Have been broken off, now left to die,
In part, by diabolical norms
That invade a home in all shapes and forms.
But, the kid looks up at the two,
Then whispers quietly, “I’m neither of you;
Not the blinded one, who feels must reign;
Nor the obliged one, too tied to pain."
Nor does the kid ever dare to be
A product passed politically:
Ingrained in mind, in heart, and soul
A subordinate being in a bowl,
That turns, and turns, and turns, and turns
While greedy capitalists more they yearn.
Within this cycle is little choice,
Hetero-normatively sans a screaming voice,
For a true language for some not made;
Virile chest-pounds place a shade
Upon the stronger ones deprived
Appraisal for their stronger minds.
The kid, all this, can’t take to be,
As what they see they wish not to see.
In this unbalanced Yin and Yang,
The kid’s perception hits a bang:
“The power lies within the one
Who mostly governs with a gun;
And how can a human hurt their double,
When love and passion are lesser trouble?"
A fitting sex the kid can't choose,
As in every win, each sex does lose.
But slowly, as they come to be,
The kid, society directs to see,
That to just one sex they must belong,
As 'genitalia proves feelings wrong.'
This funny theory most credits Freud.
By collective viewpoints the kid’s annoyed:
'No good is said, no good is done',
For those who are all, but yet are none.
Great gender points makes Butler de Judith,
While her female likes are out to proveth
That she is wrong within her stance
‘Only female unity will give rise to chance'
To an inclusion of the female word,
And one that’s First, not Second or Third.
The opposite, still out to bend
The rules and laws, all to pretend
That the other sex does not exist
Because swollen egos must persist
In rule, in art, in build, and biz:
'Fields where opposites lack all wiz.'
The kid, in this silly world of theirs,
Looks at all the foolish heirs
Who bounce and shoot this gendered ball,
While the kid stands back and laughs at all.
You had your life figured out,
Just barely 12.
Are white lies
When they lead to
And thats exactly where you went.
Tossed into the darkness,
Thrown roughly by cold hands.
You tried to box up the little things.
Fold them neatly into squares,
Push them aside.
Too many squared troubles.
The squares led to boxes, boxes to crates.
Finally so many that you
Shoved them into the dark,
Slamming the door and leaning tight against it
To prevent the monsters inside from escaping.
And the piles and piles of unsolved misfourtune
With that tiny silver earing and
A little white lie
Turned to darkness,
And you were thrown in with your piles,
Left to rot alone
Nobody to hear your cries now.
Tonight I feel loney, I need you to hold me
Need to feel the warmth of your lips on the back of my neck
Humming the melodys and rap beats that never leave your head
And the smell of you to fill the air of my bedroom
Laying in bed, eating pizza, watching movies, and making out
I have the best nights when there spent with you
And you tell me I'm lovely, but never say you love me
That I'm the only girl for you
But your out somewhere, God knows where
Stumbling around downtown, causing chaos and drunken brawls
Kissing girls, picking fights, and doing things I'd rather know nothing about
You'll never grow up or leave this god forsaken town
Everyone tells me that deserve so much more, they tell me you'll never treat me right
You're a big dreamer distracted by fleating memories of glory days, a totally fucked up mess
I'm laying here alone and there's nobody else I want, I find your carefree life charming
You piss me off but I kind of like putting up with you and all your bullshit
I’ll re-evaluate my view on the police force,
On the criminal justice system,
On the prison industrial complex on the government when they stop incarcerating non-violent drug users, beating black children,
And when they release my very much innocent father from his life sentence.