It’s Saturday night at the neighborhood bar
And I know that’s where my good friends are
So I plan to be there to party all night.
I hope we have fun and there are no fights.
But somebody’s bound to shoot of their mouth
So my mellow party plans might just go south.
That’s often how it goes with drunk boys and girls,
But I wouldn’t miss a minute for all the world.

Knee-walking ****-faced. That’s what I’ll be.
That’s how we do weekends in our society.
We’ll play chugalug games and drain our cup
And by the end of the evening throw it all up.
Knee-walking ****-faced, slapping some backs
Probably end up in some total stranger’s sack!
Of the Hammered Hell Club, I’m a member.
The meetings run from December to December.

I like this place where everyone knows my name.
Where everyone has their own self to blame.
We’re all full grown, and nobody here’s a kid.
We each take responsibility for whatever we did.
We’re true believers in a bit of cutting loose.
So what if it means we end up puking in our shoes?

Knee-walking ****-faced. That’s what I’ll be.
That’s how we do weekends in our society.
We’ll play chugalug games and drain our cup
And by the end of the evening throw it all up.
Knee-walking ****-faced, slapping some backs
Probably end up in some total stranger’s sack!
Of the Hammered Hell Club, I’m a member.
The meetings run from December to December.

Some friends I know say I’m not too bright
To go out, and stay out drinking at night
But they don’t have the problems like me.
But it contributes to my state of sanity
To get a little crazy, and **** a few brain cells
And hang out with my peers I know **** well!
Right now I have no time for any deep sorrow.
Party tonight, leave the worry ’til tomorrow.

Maybe I should have
walked on eggshells,
kept my face down,
and only spoke
when spoken to.

It’s not like
she broke my tooth
or cracked a bone.
Even if
the shirts were ripped
at least she didn’t
make me bleed.

If I gave her
the satisfaction,
if I had been meek enough,
Instead of wanting
to laugh and play
buying comic books
when I got paid;

Maybe if I understood
her rage
I wouldn’t have been
slapped in the face,
had my hair pulled,
Or been hit with the broom
the mop, the dust mop,
the brush, the boot,
the belt, or whatever
she could use.

Maybe, I deserved the bruise,
the welt, the agony,
the isolation.
Maybe, I shouldn’t have been born.

It must have been my fault.
It had to be my fault
or else it doesn’t
make any sense at all.

I have busted my ****, sliding down rainbows
And fell through many pink clouds on my ear.
I always whistle as I pass by graveyards
Threw hundreds in wishing wells, over the years.
I defaulted my rent on castles in the air.
I carefully avoided stepping on any cracks.
I walk endless miles not to walk under ladders.
I carefully avoid walking near any cat if it is black.

I totally buy that I am superstitious
And I wear that distinction like a hair shirt.
But I see problem in not taking chances;
It may not work, but it couldn’t hurt.

I’ve cramps in my fingers from them being crossed.
I would never break any kind of mirror, of course .
And I still have salt sprinkled on my shoulders.
Wishing on many stars, I have made myself hoarse.
I always look away when a funeral goes by.
I spit in my palm when I hear something spooky.
I drop coins into the bowls of all beggars
Even though most of my friends think me kooky.

It’s not like I go broke on soothsayers
And buy all the amulets I see on TV.
But It makes little sense to take a moment
To avoid the omens anyone can see.

Yes I buy copper bracelets to save me
From arthritis or rheumatism of my knee.
I never wear clothing the color of blood,
That only makes common sense to me.
Some think I’m a few boards short of a fence
Be that as it may, and all well and good
My guess is you all have looked around
To find something so you could knock on wood.

I totally buy that I am superstitious
And I wear that distinction like a hair shirt.
But I see problem in not taking chances;
It may not work, but it couldn’t hurt.

Sorrow splits the night
like lightning in the sky.
I see strangers
with an endless reserve
of tears clouding
their red and bag heavy eyes.
Makes me wonder why
they had to live
to see their children die.

I pass by these borders you plan to build
thick brick walls to block you from how
all these strange foreigners feel,
but I will take all the pain they receive,
make their scars a permanent part of me.
I will see this life break me
of all those playful star trek fantasies
of how we will be better human beings.

Cause, I have seen babies wearing bullet holes
like little red onesie, and crimson bibs,

seen pictures of places we will never be,
decimated cities, with scars so deep
that even the stones bleed.

I shudder
knowing we do not need
Hollywood monsters
because real nightmares
exist over there.

Please tell me how
do I move on
from these portraits of pain.

I used to believe in Santa Claus
So jolly and red and so fat.
I was a big fan of Christmas
No holiday was as great as that.
Not Easter with those funny eggs
Not even Halloween with candy.
No, that thing about tons of presents
To me, that was fine and dandy.

And we even got two weeks off
Nobody had to go to school.
Then coming back with new clothes
That made me look so cool.
Nothing compared to Santa Claus
The flying reindeer, ** ** guy.
I used to try to stay awake
So I could see him flying by.

It was such a great reality
To know that dude was up there
In the frozen north pole air
Making stuff for kids everywhere.
That was the world I reveled in,
Where everyone celebrated.
I knew I was not the only one
Who sat by the tree and waited.

I don’t remember being confused
By the Santas in department stores.
Santa had lots of helpers, I knew,
And this guy was just one more.
I did have a problem with chimneys
And a bag that he could lift
That carried things for all us kids;
Every size and type of gift.

But kids have a way of helping folks
To maintain a pretty fantasy.
We just ignored things that didn’t fit.
We went about it very easily.
But one day, and I remember when
I got let in on the confidence game
And Santa Claus was quickly gone,
Never to come to our house again.

The sad thing is nothing can ever
Replace the joy I once felt.
Santa was not supposed to be
Like Frosty and too quickly melt.
So, I have to make do with having
The grownup toys I buy myself.
Oh, how I could use a flying sled
And the help of a brace of elf.

tepid waters do not lie
gale is to cyclone
as rain to thundercloud
no amount of counter-spin
will make them anything other
than atmospheric unrest

El Niño, La Niña
how to read
the unsettled waters
upwelling from the deep
what should feed us
leaves us starving, weak

orcas encircle their kin
emaciated mother, tiny calf
dying from ocean’s lack
while we look on and moan
all the power to change
if we only cared to own it

I roam from here to there
Until i’m everywhere
And everything
Dancing in the graveyard of my past,
cracking the bones of our memories
Beneath my nimble feet.

I dance until my soul is dust in the wind
And travels across bodies of blues,
And greens,
As purple women swim ****
Before my eyes.

Their energy morphs into beams of light,
Until all that’s left are fantastic flames,
That illuminate
The voids of spaces,
Purple faces,
Blue auras,
Green eyes,
Red flames
That burn beneath me
As I descend into the evening,
Falling to my knees and praying for beautiful Death,
For we are familiar friends.

The reaper’s boney fingers grasp the curves of my waist.
The silence is our music
As we waltz for centuries in one moment,
as I watch history unfold
before my purest lense of perception;
A kaleidoscope of fear and love,
Like two opposing warriors holding hands
And sharing secrets.

I wake up from a dream in a cold sweat,
Spat out by the portal of sleep.
I celebrate nirvana,
And thank Death, as I swim in it's dark nebulous.
I await the universe to kiss my eyes
And ask it to release me from this endless wander
in this human form

a calendar
lies in the corner of a table,
forgotten,
two weeks into the New Year,
its simple pencil sketch at the top
showing at an angle.
late at night
a noise can be heard from that corner,
the sound of protesting sobs,
and a little voice
can be picked out here and there,
"all the other calendars
had pretty scenes
of mountain lakes and forest glades.
now they are all gone.
someone has taken them
to hang on their wall.
and I am still lying here.
nobody wants me.
my big, clumsy letters
are clear and dark.
a child could read them.
and my large, awkward boxes
have plenty of writing space.
I am the best calendar around
and could help someone greatly
in their struggle
to remember their place in time,
if only someone would stay long enough
to see what I am
and not what I look."

Don’t you know when we embrace
We’re holding empty space
That’s just how it is
In this human race

We think it’s something else
Something that it’s not
We think we have a lover
That we haven’t got

The person in our arms
Feels so very real
Then when we try to find them
Things become surreal

There’s no one there to hold
Just some skin and hair
The person that we love
Is as empty as the air

I’ll put you on a pedestal
Bend down on one knee
Though the person I adore
I cannot even see

Like a rainbow and a phantom
You will come and go
Like a dream in the night
Like a shadow in a show

Like a promise that was broken
Like a vow never kept
Like an abandoned plan
Or an unpaid debt

Don’t you know when we embrace
We’re holding empty space
That’s just how it is
In this human race