He stood at the
height of most men's
shoulders.
But grew into the
size of Goliath while
full of wheat barley and ****.

His pale blue eyes
sat peacefully in the center of the
angry blood shot pool
that had once been
as white as the
hair on his head.

He was handy with his
hands but his hands
usually held a bottle.
He drank only at certain
bars,only around those
who had come to
know his rage.

He wasn't allowed home
when ever he had become
one with the ranting
and raving lunatic
who lived deep down
in his soul.

His voice was raspy
from too many cigarettes
and too much
drunken screaming.

He had pains that called
for pills and names he
swore he would ****.

And he drank every time
like it was it his first time
or maybe the last.
Always enough to
awake that
giant within.

There's times that seem
to fit and make it all more real.

Like the snapping of the
plastic seal on that
cheap bottle of
*****.
Just as she slams the door
for that final time.

Frusciante on the radio
and you with a needle in
your hand.

The seagull who passed and
dropped his waste
upon your sunset.

There's images that swirl
inside your head and
leave behind deep grooves
within your memories

Impressions like her
sculpted face in candle light.
That strung out you in the mirror
that even you didn't recognize.

There's that love you
thought was dead
and those addictions
you swore you
left behind.

There's times and ways
that seem to fit.

And it's what lengthens
this life that are like the
pages of a calender.
One on top of the next
to be written over.

All to be lived
one page at a
time

Once you've finally
come to realize that
the little ones are the
only good human beings
.
Your trust in anything at all
is all but gone.
Your back now as worn
out as a well read
paperback.

And your heart,
your starving,giving
unselfish heart has
now been hardened
by the loose,uncaring
women
you gave it to.

You got to just
barrel through it all
while taking it real
easy on the breaks.

The burdens of society,
the addictions,her wants
and what little
you have to give.
That on going
struggle within yourself
between what you
want to do and
that in which keeps her happy,
a roof over your heads
and gas in that guzzler.

We are cursed with a
narrow perspective,
unlike the butterfly who
sees in all realities.

Learn how to survive
and consume with the least
amount of your potentials
and call this success.

Decay always begins
once growth ends.
And there will be
plenty of dreams
to **** tomorrow

I walked  in step
with that old guy
beside me.
Watched as he craned
his old neck around
at every
sweet smelling
beauty that  passed us
by.

We stay that way for awhile.
Walking ,watching the parade of
hometown and home grown
beauty's walking,driving and pedaling
their way past.
For a few moments
I fell in Love.
And they all lasted
just long enough
to watch the different
versions of her blend into
the streets and vanish.

We approached  some boys
sneaking left handed
cigarettes while sitting
on a wall half hidden
from the world beneath a
drooping
eucalyptus.

A tall boy rose his
chin to me as his fist
went into a ball.
I smiled as the Old Man
and I continued on.

I casually tightened my grip
on the pistol in my pocket.
But I had already
decided to let
this stupid young
boy grow into an
idiot of a man.

I caressed the
warm pistol inside
my warm coat pocket.
I felt the idiots eyes
burning into my back.


The brave Bull Fighter
came to mind
and the idiot beast
whose craving for
the flag of
red draws him to his
doom.

Cruel I've been along
my way,
the slaughter is what
stays with you.
All the rest
was just
time spent in
passing.

The old man
who finds me
when I'm unsure and
afraid,troubled and
out of drugs and searching for
reasons to continue on shook his
grey head as I looked his way.

I did what I always do
at the sight of him.
I  laughed both to myself
and at myself.
Once that started the Old
man got to laughing which soon
turned into coughing.
Then like we always do,
we took the briefest of
moments and said our good byes
with our eyes.
Two sets of the same eyes
both witnessing it all
together.
One set reminding the
other of how much longer he has to be
here.
I secretly thank
him and he always
reminds me that I'm not
going any where any time
soon.

I'm far from a prophetic
man.
I don't care enough
about those Ill leave behind.
Or those I pass on
Gaffey street.
Through the years
of living hard and without
I've come to discover
greatness.
I've come so close
to cracking.
So close to embracing that
injured hand
of madness.

I have emerged from
the solitary prison cells
and the sad existence
of life locked into
a drug den I called
my home.
I've come out
the other side
with a densely
colored vision of
it all.

It's not all
in Greys,
but with the times
I've spent in the Grey.
Thus gave birth to
my convictions.

I started this
with my head
in my hands,
ran my palms
down my face,
brought them
together in front
of me as if in prayer.

My mind was
putting on a
show,
bursts of
imagery flashed
like fireworks.

Words floated
like falling
feathers,
ideas danced
like fireflies
in the night.

For some reason
my senses
brought about
the scent
of the sea.

I closed my
eyes and seen
the palm trees
sway like
hula girls in
the wind.

A smile appeared
and I
held on to
it for as long
as I could.

Eyes clenched
tightly shut,
mind at work.

It called
to me and I
ran to it
with my heart
wide open.

And when
it was all over
I sat down
and created
this..

It was all
so magical,
all so other
worldly.

It was in
another time
but the
place was
here.

Then your
face
appeared.
Younger  like
when we
were at
our best.

I became
undone
by the vision
of you.

I awoke with
a cry and
a knife in the heart.

The dream was
over and I
felt better
off when
I looked around
and didn't
see you.