You got to look
hard for the good,
for the enlightenment.
Its there,
its always been there,
like that pitch fork
shaped birth mark
on the back of your
knee.
Its there,
though you rarely
take the time
or the effort it
takes  to
see it.

Sometimes its in
plain sight,
like the rock fish in
the coral.
Stare into the
pillars of your
memory.
Seek out the
happy times
like bees do
to pollen rich
Marigolds.

You can find it
in Low Bars
and trash laden
streets.
Cheap made up
Women and
in cold locked
down  jail cells.
It may be the
words you find
as you read passed
missing pages of
a book left behind
by the prisoner
before you.

Laugh in their grin
strained faces
then smile to yourself.
Smile for the memories
and know that I
and the Gods
are smiling with
you.

These tears
are constantly
blocking my
view
as I struggle
with these
words
in memory
of
you..

I navigated my
way along the
narrow path
ways  that had been
forever inbedded
by the
footsteps of the
young who've
cut
their path
throughout their
years,venturing as I
once did throughout
these ruins.
The narrow trails
from brave riders
who pedal their way
through the past
and in between all that
has been ruined
snaked all around
and in between
this broken
part of the
city.

I approached the
edge of the world with
caution even though
I feared not death.
I listened to the sound
of the Grand Pacifics anger
as it pounded away
at the end of the earth
a deaths
flight  below me.
Visions of the past
when I was that
braver soul
than I am now
crept up on me.
I took them in
then
put them away
in that dark
corner of my
mind where the
good times
are kept.
I laughed it
all off
and continued on.

I made my way
past the remnants
of all that was
once here before
the sea decided to
take it away.
The only signs left
now are just pieces
of crumbling
asphalt and
graffiti covered
ruins.
These cliffs and
these remnants
of a long ago
sunken part of
this city served
as the untamed
and mostly
unsupervised
playground of
my youth.
I played hard
as that young
adventurous
boy who
I miss so much.
Drank even
harder as a
stubborn  young
and unsure
man along these
cliffs.

I stopped and
took in the
tainted
air.
The smell of the fuel and the city
for now wiped away by
the rolling winds
coming in from the west.
The night was alive
with smaller forms of life,
crickets,barking dogs,
spatting feral cats and
the moans of a beaten man
seeking shelter in a hole
beneath a
broken slab of asphalt.
  The sage bush filled
the nightime air
with blessings.
The salt from
the sea almost
tickled
the nose.

Somewhere
in the
distance a ship
sounded its horn.
Sea lions
barked
in time with the
uneven ringing of
the ancient bell
on the ancient
Red buoy
as it rose and chimed
along with  
the swells
somewhere
in that sea
of darkness.

I left the broken
ruins behind
and made
my way toward
the Park
that had been
brilliantly positioned
along the
rim of
the world.
The memories
of happy times
struggled with
my sadness.
The images of better
times demanded
to be remembered.

I started across the
tear soaked grass
as I walked beneath
beautiful ancient Eucalyptus
and Sycamore trees.
Pine trees that
stood slumped over
like the ancient old
men they were.
I stopped half way
to the middle
as a one eyed calico feral
crossed my path .

I've foraged many
a happy memory
with old
forgotten friends
and long departed
lovers within this park.
Drank when the drinking
was done for fun,
and laughed that
care free laugh
I'll never hear again.
Fought a good mans
fight when the
odds were all
against me.
Evened  it out with
a tool made for killing.
Just one more memory
I now live with.

Now after so
many years
and so much
of what this
life has thrown
before me.
I now come
here only
at night,
alone.
When its only me
the feral cats
and the
thieving raccoon's.
Often times,
I'm comforted
by the
old worn
coat I refuse
to replace,
a cheap bottle
dressed in a brown
paper bag and
a mind still alive
with visions
of other times
than these.

I forget
those horrors
that still force
me out into
the night.
And take a lonely
pull
beneath the
Moons silent
glow.
I toast the night
and those
who dwell
within it.
I worked on the
bottle
while staring
into the
darkness at
nothing.

A smile breaks
free across my
tired face as I
 look to the moon
and realize.
This same sacred
Moon light
that shines upon me
is the same
distant glow
that I know
shines somewhere
upon her.

Its Torture.
The cruel
painless kind.
Torture,
like watching her
from the shadows
as she  
Loves her new Lover
while you're
still so alone.
Within my
mind Ive said
a word then
spelled out
in ryhm.
It sounds so perfect
within my
mind,my quivering lips
mouth the
word in silence.
Im afraid to try,
listen to my struggle
and you shall see
why it
is I hardly
speak.
Its the stammer,
the god given
gift which has
held my
opinions hostage.
Prevented me from
approaching her
and telling her
what she secretly
longed
to hear.
Forced me at times
to remain silent
when there was
so much more I
had to say.
This stammer
provides
cruel children
reason enough to be
even crueler.
I speak around certain
words and
communicate
more with the hands.
Kind souls
finish sentences
for me as I fight
for my voice.
Never  knowing that
their attempt
at being helpful
only drives this silent
knife even deeper.
This Stammer has
barricaded what
I need to say
somewhere
within that dead
and maimed space
between
my mind and
my speach.
I'm tunneling my
way out of this
self contained  
prison.
Word by
written word .
Im slowly
finding
a way for
this silent
and crippled
voice
to finally
be heard.

She closed one grey eye
and watched as
the now
scortched
diamond dust
slowly
settled into a
small
pool at  
the bottom
of the bubble.
A tiny heart pounded
like a turbine piston
hard and relentless
against her bare,
freckled dressed chest.
Small beads of
sweat formed
then dried almost
immeditly
down her bare back
and in between
the small mounds
she wore as *******.

She closed her right eye and
held the wand
up towards the
bare bulb light.
She watched transfixed
as the once delicate,
man made,
toxic concoction
that was now
a heated puddle
of stimuli cooled.
Then brought forth images
of great stretching snow flakes
and shattered
diamonds reaching
all throughout
the bubble tipped
tool  she had
taken in as a lover.

And there will
be no sleep
tonight for the
Down Town dealers
and this delicate
lost soul with
diamonds
in her  eyes.
Theres too many
memories that
need to be
tamed ,
too many
nightmares to
give in to sleep.
Stay awake ,
create more time
and consume every bad
thing that's before
you.

Seek out a cold
place in the night,
then stare at the heavens
while  shaking
a clenched fist upon
the serpents.
As our world reveals
more another
falls,picks up
a tool  and
turns to what works.

Choosing the
easy way out
is never an easy
decision.
As crystals cool
then melt again
another decision has
turned to
death in the
form of a captive
life without
freedom enough to
care or breath.

She walked toward
the window and
stood naked
and high before
the city.
A tear tumbled
and dried
before it ever
left her face.

Another diamond
obsessed ,dreamless
dreamer,
waiting out the
night,dealing with
the madness and
sharing none
of her horrors
with the shadowed
world she was forced
to haunt.
Living every hour
wide  awake,
wired and full
of pills.
Desperate for some
other place thats
far away from here.

Slowly
and quietly
dying an older
souls death.
Far before
what should
have been
her peaceful
and merciful
kind of ending.

The
hardest
pill to
swallow
is the
one
you
know
you
need

There is'nt very many places
that can come close to the
perfection that a summers night
brings about on the streets
of San Pedro.
Its all still so raw,
on the lower side of town ,tenants sit
outside on stoops in front of
cheap hotels made for cheap people.
Feral cats stalk the wharf rats
who hide out within the  
rising mounds of fishing
nets that sit in large heaps along the
guano stained docks.
The Mad houses all have ancient air
conditioning, all of which only seems to
push the Mad a little bit closer
to that empty they all long to
fill.
Teen aged lovers walk hand in hand
past the bars and the liquor stores
along Pacific Ave.
The smiles on there clean faces
prove that they are still oblivious
to the horrors that love will one
day bring.
Drinking men and Die hard wasted
Women stand outside of windowless
drinking holes *******
on cigarettes, their silent stares
warn all who pass
that what little they had to lose
is already gone.
Most of these sets of eyes and
heads of hair,
have never heard the nightbird
sing,or watched transfixed
as the blood ran
along the gutters like
mountain run off
in the spring.

I find it comforting to know
that these summer night adventures
dare only to venture out
for this briefest of season.
I need them gone from my darkness,
they are not of the night,
even one as perfect as this.
Their clueless smiles and their
false joys cast a foul shade of light
upon the realness and the honesty
of this summers night.
Only lost souls like myself,
the street walking ******  and
the murderous feral cats know
when and where the magic truly died.
Only those with broken ties
and broken hearts can look
to the shot out street lamps
and know they are home.
If only these programed minions
would leave me and the mad ones,
me and the ******,
me and the shot out street lamps
and the flea bitten battle hardened
wharf  cats
to all of what we call our own.
They come out of their cages and
walk along the same gum stained
sidewalks as we who have sacrificed
it all to become as one with
the night.

They see all of the same neon signs
and graffiti covered walls as I do,
but that's where their tiny
little minds locked into their
tiny little worlds stop.
They cant comprehend and
I don't have enough wine
or enough patience
to waste my time
on programed minds.
Let them cheer each other on
let them guide each other to their deaths.
Leave us to this night and the millions
of California summer nights to come.
Let them lock themselves away
when these summer nights shift
to fall.
I and the night
cringe at their presence.
The feral cats release
a deep menacing warning
as these invaders pass
them by.
Their place is locked
securely behind
some gates,somewhere
on that hill.
A place I dare not to
venture,a place built
on the blood labor
of the poor,a place full
of their lies.
Lies and forced false ways
that draw
deep blood toned scars
upon the honesty
and the  integrity of this
sacred summers  night.