I had almost mastered the art of making my way through life without making too much noise.

I had spent the last 6 years mostly alone.
Concentrated all my efforts on trying to stay out of prison.
Worked on the writing and the poetry.
And doing all I could to just be forgotten.

I had kicked up enough dust in my early years to spend the majority of my adult life behind bars.
Came home with more tattoos, another strike and a
Monkey on my back.
I was home with greying hair, a bullet in my hand that hurt like hell, an ex wife who hated me, kids who didn't know me and friends who had forgotten all about me.

I move as low to the ground as possible now days.
I went out only when I had to.
I was just trying not to be noticed.
Hoping that maybe they'll forget about all the bad I had done
and just let me grow old in silence.

I spent  my 43rd birthday in a coin-op laundromat that reminded me of a crude jail house day-room.
Concrete floors, metal picnic tables with a large tv bolted to the wall .
Nothing was made for comfort and everything had some type of a lock on it.

She walked up carrying what looked like everything she owned.
She struggled with the door and the laundry in her arms.
I quickly stood up from my seat on the cold steel bench and offered to relieve her of some of her burden, to which she shyly obliged.
She was far to pretty to be alone and I was half waiting on a boyfriend to appear.

Nobody ever taught her how to be polite.
She didn't know what being gracious even meant until she met me.

She'd say " Don't blame me I wasn't raised right", it was our lil joke but a joke that was far  to real.

It was her beauty that saved her.
Her body was what most women would never have.
Men felt a burning desire at the sight of her.
Which she used to her advantage when needed.
It's what helped her get by during the roughest of times.

She wasn't a ***** but they didn't know that.
By the time they had realized she wasn't giving what they wanted she would have already packed her things and left for good.

Men would promise her almost everything when all she really wanted was something to call her own.

Her front tooth was chipped from a fight with an ex boyfriend.
The minor flaw only added to her rare type of natural beauty.
Light freckles across the bridge of her nose.
She had scared up boney knuckles and always wore thick silver rings on 4 of her fingers.
Naturally long eyelashes and acne scared cheeks she'd hide with cover up.

What she knew of the world was almost comical, she hadn't been anywhere and wasn't planning on going anywhere any time soon.
What she lacked in social skills couldn't compare to what she knew how to do in bed.

I gave her a safe place to rest without having to worry.
She gave me reason to shower in the morning and comb my hair before bed.

We played chess which was a surprise to me when she asked me if I played.

I introduced her to  Bukowski, Dante and Virgil.
She brought a strange type of warmth to my otherwise cold lonely apartment .
Our time was a break from the isolation and a reminder of how it was to be with another.
She brought back memories I had long ago forced
myself to forget.

Her only rule was that I never asked about her past.
What she wanted me to know she would share on her own.
My only request was that she never asked me to stop using
and when she felt it was time to move on ,she wouldn't take the time to say goodbye.

American Mothers
whose husbands
pray to Muloc
loyal only to
their lodge.
Raise their sons
as daughters
and their daughters
as breeders.

Wealthy American
mothers
teach their infants
Mandrian Chinese.
Quietly preparing them
for the future.

The strait of California
returned as the Gods ripped
the golden state free
from America.

The Shamans cried for
New Albion as the great
city fell into the sea.

Above the cries, the falling rain
and the crashing sounds of
what can only be called The End
came the voice of certainty.
"There's no stopping this."

The waters above and
the waters below all
moved with the
deep lakes, the crashing falls
and the thawing glaciers.

Thunder clouds were just
to block our view.
The snaking rivers and
the gentle streams
flowed with the winter run off.
Flooded city streets,
washed out state highways.

California will once again
be an island soon.

The Law of reversal rules
people's lives if they say
its "This" it's almost always "That."
2012 or 21.
My Fathers
biggest fear was always
them coming for our guns.
My Remington and my.45,
those ******* in their holes
all waiting on us to die.

The canals and the sand bars
somebody big had to make.
The L.A river and those who live in it.
Sinkholes and hail storms.
All fall into endless wells
that flow on forever
keeping everything clean.

If you look for the signs you
can't help but see them.
Like rain in Los Angeles on
a Memorial day weekend.

So it was and the Gods
kept their promise
and everything was gone.

Standing on top
of an ancient Titan with
every anwser to
every question ever asked.

In this moment amongst
the debris the bodies
and the ever moving rushing waters
the man who knew everything
suddenly felt Small.

I'm too paranoid for *******,
not social enough for alcohol.

Speed's not for me,
you gotta give up your dreams.
And I look forward to sleep.

I disliked **** once they
made it legal.
I can't mess with the pills
unless they're the happy ones
and a girl is involved.

I thought about my first
love, my first addiction.
There's no way I can say,
'I'll never do ****** again.'

I'm not too sure about much
but I can say this for sure.
"Maybe one day my dear
but I can't go back to you today."

Crude signs painted
with the blood of the
living denounced
their latest decree.

Standing at the podium
spreading more lies.
All the world be your
theater and
nothing here is real.

Daytime cocktails under the
shadows of the palms.
Blood thinning and
running cold.
Cold like the serpent in the
summer sun.

You left your dreams in a
waste basket a few miles
outside of Vegas.
And all there is to do
is turn the music up
and lie to her some more.

Black draped youth
waving flags of
revolutionary red.

Pock scarred and some beautiful faces
all aimed up towards the waters.
The sound of millions in the know.
Voices echo off the firmament
and cause ripples to race across
the very fabric of the heavens.

All of them screaming
"We KNOW!!"

And the Gods remained silent
as their secret held no more.

The life times worth
of scar tissue made
the shape of
my head look funny.

My hands
My poor arthritic scarred up hands.
The tip of my pinkie finger
was bitten off by a
Puerto Rican kid
when I was 10.

He spit it out
but we couldn't find it.

I dated local girls and
even thought I fell in Love.

I often see my first Love
and the one after that.
Still see them both
around town today.

We don't have much to say.
I can't complain.
I had them both
when they were good.

They won't have
nothing to do
with me today.

I got my first tattoo in a
California prison
Lost my first Love
before I came home.

I used to listen to
Rock n Roll music.

Small venues with
loud Los Angeles Bands.

Outdoor festivals with
California Girls and
Drugs that won't **** you.

Today California's burning,
the Drugs don't seem to
be working and
I can't listen to music
without breaking
down in tears.