this ****** thought he could toss me around

some Indian ****** with a loud mouth

I wouldn’t leave my seat and he begged like

a pooch telling me “can you move, I wanna sit there,

let me sit beside the girl man.”


He kept begging to be beside this girl

later on he tells me that I should’ve moved because he is a

bouncer

one lousy skinny bouncer

he tells me that he would’ve put me in a head lock like the others

don’t mess with him you see


I TELL him to shut the hell up

no one cares and no one wants to hear you

he doesn’t take to kindly to these words

I am never ready for a fight but if it happens

it happens

but this fight didn’t happen

he just stood there with his stupid face

trying to scare me with his little child eyes

being hassled by the local drug dealers

and downtown shows- ***** fights

from drunken bozo’s

escape never no never escape

escape from downtown at night

people go crazy

I go crazy in a midnight bar with

others that surround me

I feel like throwing the chair at the window

the beer is not working

bars and clubs and people and city’s and buildings

take em’ all down

we don’t need them

we need quiet and peace sometimes

some never get quiet and peace until death comes over

I feel for them

there are always lies flying around the place

how did we all become so jealous?

how did we become so nervous?


he is jealous of him and then he becomes jealous of you.

it’s the vicious circle of life that brings us humans down

he does better but inside the other knows he is better

so you are going to pay.


we attack each other and it becomes uncontrollable

like unexpected heartburn

he is sad

the other is sappy

the other burns inside

the other goes to the bathroom and pukes his heart out

the other throws his tools at the wall

the other makes himself late and causes a stir

the other is high on something and it’s slowing his ability to work

cracking the knuckles

and the sound of the lion horde appears,

cracking the back and feeling warm.


I can’t sleep tonight,

it seems sleep doesn’t need me,

and I feel sad or warmth.

only the sadness reaches deeply inside

at night and that the lion horde

sounds in the head disappear.


waking up with a sick stomach,

waking up with heartburn,

a ****** dry nose.

coughing the black out the lungs.


I can’t see.

Numb babies touch me,

oh heaven where are you?

As the morning rises
And the good people
Wake up and eat their
fine breakfast
I ***** old dinner and beer
With the sun.
And I can hear the people
drive by with work in them,
I lie in bed.
Half naked and hardly living.

While scratching my chest hairs
with my pocket knife.
I was on my stained bed,
with tiny crumbs, with stains
of blood from my cut finger
from the other night.

I scratch softly,
The boredom amuses me,
kills me.

The funeral March plays softly on
the stereo.
I started liking beer,
it’s taking over the wine.
I drink,
I smoke,
well, what else is there to do on a Wednesday night?
**** myself?
But then I’ll have to get out of bed and right now,
this bed is my heaven and my muse at the moment.

London ON has it’s crazies,
the one, well… Well he was a good guy.
I was drunk and sad and waiting for the bus.
The old crazy comes out of the corner
like some ****** greaser.
He mumbles everything and looks sad as well.

We both got on the bus, and we talk, no…
Mostly he talks (mumbles),
and he shows me his buss pass.
It is from 1986, and for reasons unknown,
has not gotten a new one.

I don’t know how it still has its use,
and I don’t know why, it feels, they
always come and talk to me.
they just can’t leave me alone.

but again he was a good guy,
a wise old ****,
We both got off the same stop,
I give him three bucks for a drink,
and head off to the bar.

the bar was empty and so was I
and getting filled up on coke and wh
isky.