I would have sworn I could see
him out in the boonies of Vietnam toting a rifle
not worrying about a trifle
or pushing a broom and working
nigh custodial work
Not all the above, it's just the sense of
"regular man"
He wouldn't get a ten
in looks
but his weather beaten skin shows he knows
too about the blind man on the New York subway
pushing a tin
as in cup
just to get a little sup
and now maybe
it's not Agent Orange,
the "regular man"'s
ruddy skin
but he's working in a field just to get a tan
You know
he's got what
would be called a weird sense of humor -
nothing like guffaws
in the Harvard Tumor,
I believe that's what one of their funny newspapers is called
and this "regular man" is worried about being tall -
just so he survives with a nice-tasting cigarette
danglign from his lips
and holding a nice beer in his hand
from which he wants to take a sip
I like to think
I know where he;s coming from
and that he's not ****.

*Charles Sturies

I enjoyed being a bellhop at the Student Union at the U of I in college,
everything went so fast.
I enjoyed being a dishwasher
everything went so fast, too, and I formed a relationship with
a gorgeous blonde waitress that I thought would last.
I enjoyed digging ditches for a home builder
it made me feel so earthy and the die was cast
for me being a manual laborer
'cause I know I'd crack up in the Army
and of course no flag would be at half- mast
and to be realistic
I'd be "doing it" for the rest of my work period
I was so serious
Then I used a sledge hammer and jackhammer
and more feeling of earthiness followed
and I knew I'd be delirious
at working here at something where I could see
my progress at it
and not get messed up in my mind too much at that.
Us workers would have the usual construction workers'
break beverage of a quart or bottle of chocolate milk
and we'd feel great
at mopping the sweat from a lot
including our cheeks.
Being a soldier
obviously didn't agree with me,
or I wouldn't have gotten
called on PTSD
but my stubborn flights into food service work
and even janitor work
were my way of fighting it
and my cup of tea.

I got 3 cute CDs - one a folk-country, the two others jazz
Some "different" clothes, with all their razz-a-ma-tazz
a box of diet candy that I thought was just dandy
and a nice Adele CD from one of the nurses here at the hospital
that ring a bell
Trendiness-wise in my subconscious,
a sweat suit from the state American Legion Auxiliary
So I can go out and jog with Hillary,
just kidding,
that would be too titillating
and exhilarating
for me
two books on conservationism that deserve some study
some toiletries,
two magazine subscriptions
for when things get murky,
nothing for muddiness
but then I'm not outside much.

My mother told me when she was living
that i had "black blood", was
related to Heidi Selassie, the emperor of Ethiopia at that time,
and heir to his throne.
As I've said a musical therapist here said that
because I had A positive blood I had all bloodlines.
My mother also said the Sturies were
Scottish, Lithuanian, regular German,
and I got a phone call- maybe I've already mentioned this- back in the eighties
when I was rooming with a black family that I was
part South American.
My mother also told me that I was
heit to the throne of Lithuania at that time
and that the Sturies are high German
which mean we're sorta preppy compared to everybody else
and that we're related to the likes of
Plato, Christ, ******, Von Steuben, and Metternick.
Interesting.
At least it didn't lead to me disintegrating.
I also read on the internet that the Sturies have a little Cherokee in them.
That's about all I know right now.
For more about my bloodlines
except that we're related to Hugh Hefner (it said on the internet)
that a friend of mine told me the Sturies are
distantly related to Daniel Boone.
So turn on your heatline
Neil Diamond
and reach out to me
when my father, bless his heart
comes back from
beyond the sea.

*Charles Sturies

Ahmad Jamal and his classic tune Poincianno provided a backdrop
where I could relax and relate the poignant beauty
of the peace and madness back then surrounding
the Kennedy assassination.
Oscar Peterson churns out the notes
in a definitive yet light way
that would qualify as easy listening jazz
to some jazz buff in their weaker moments.
Eroll Gainer with his classic misty
haunts one with his
simple singularity of musical
paroxysms and leads into a fine repertoire.
George Shearing with his liltingness relaxed me
back then when I was recovering from the whole thing
And Camsey Lewis with his lightly penetrating rendition of
"The In Crowd" sustained my sense of humor and
helped me with my appreciation of mainstream jazz.
Cela, jazzmasters all to me
and yes like that light jazz
as opposed to poboy like Miles Davis
except for Charlie Parks
and yet I got into a Goth pianist Jack
then Thelonius Monk who was sorta jazzy
I acquired a mediocre taste for.

The first kind of carnival I encountered besides at the county fair was a huge one on the far outer reaches of the North Bronx on the way to Yonkers and White Plains call Freedomland.

I remember Disneyland and the black licorice drops there at the old time confectionary store.  I hope to go to Disney World in my lifetime.

AS far as a regular circus I went to one when I was on a locked ward (we were let out under supervision) at the Lyons New Jersey UAMC.  I was so desperately feeling like a failure due to confinement, and felt such hopelessness, that I contemplated joining the circus as a roustabout, but it seemed futile in the big picture, after all, I felt because I'd just be going from the frying pan into the fire success or lack thereof wise.

I think I noticed a certain clown looking at me out of the corner of his eyes and reading my mind there and letting me know I'd mad e the fright decision, and seeing a choice female acrobat stride by that reminded me that I wanted to start a family someday and stars of circuses are probably kept separate from the roustabouts.

I can remember going to the Ringling Bros. and Barnum and Bailey circus with my mother as a kid and being thrilled at the taste of the cotton candy, the lion tamer doing his thing , the smell of the sawdust, and the ringmaster of that 3 ring circus and his whip.  I was in awe.

In the meantime I was going to local carnivals and trying my hand with the pellet gun shooting sitting ducks that passed by in front of the king in the hall of mirrors, and going on the roller coasters and the Ferris wheel.

Later I went to the Barnum and Bailey circus as an adult and the trapeze artist, especially the female ones and , for example the parade of the Arabian horsed, thrilled me too.

I also took my foster son to a carnival and the sorta juvenile delinquent erstwhile deprived kid-he was, I though.  I got a thrill out of him seeming impressed.

Enough of this, not that it's syrupy sentimentality, which I find enough in my poetry to have a sense of failure there but maybe kind of exercise in senility.

You've got to try to blot out relationships with other people, I think, to form true friendships with your family member, but you can profit from these other relationships if you've learned certain skills there.

Don't let your love of family members overshadow that which you nurture, foster, and embellish in the theories of true familial friendship.

In other words, talk over the good times, "apologize" for the bad times, do fun things together, and be as generous as you possibly can be with them.
Maintain your sense of humor as far as any phobias, neuroses, or hangups the family members might have that otherwise would get on your nerves.
Be considerate, punctual, try to be thoughtful, and maintain contact with them through thick and thin.
There probably is much more to this than the above-think of ideas yourself-especially little things mean a lot ones.

Create.
Be Sensitive.
Look good in the face
Dress up to date
Have a nice build
Have a great personality
I tell myself
I want to attract somebody really nice
if I'm to get married again
Even if I'm already 72 years old
I worry
I fret
I scurry about
waiting for someone to particularly tout
I may seem all out
but with 2 older sisters
I know
how women
discuss about
catching Mr. Right.
I want to be someone's Mr. Right
or flight
the blight of being uptight
and just get out of my sight
with all my might
with no more fright
and attempt to take it light!
But I love being uptight
and wallowing in my pity
but in right now
I wanted to go see "Sul"
but if I burn the midnight oil
worrying about being married to a real dish
then my toil
over termites or sumpin 1
without seeing
the Olde Miss
in women
won't get me
what I probably desire-
a woman like Rumpken2
and along with "it"
a nice house near a forest preserve
where there wont' be one fore fit
What I'm saying is I'm  looking for Miss Right
and if I don't find her I'll
go into hiding
but I probably should actually look for
someone I'm compatible with,
if that's the rule of thumb.

I love me
I'm no tree
There's a fee for that
not including me
Shortstop the poetry
Prevent it from being more
about a tree
Be it a studly guy
Or something to buy
at Christmas time
3 women come to mind-
one a grouch, one decadent,
and one loose
Return to the blues
and this trilogy
with care
extra
will surely be
to the tune
of reading
Morning Becomes Electra

Like right after a meal when I can't get the bits and pieces out from between my teeth with a used toothpick I just happen to have in my tote bag so I write about it.

Not being able to get my pants and underwear adjusted right so my ding-a-ling will be comfortable right when we're off rushing to dinner or something, and I just can't get it right.

When my favorite teams in sporting events are losing in a discouraging fashion that gives off an air of foreboding to their staining for success for the year in general.

Watching CNN and getting the same story over an over again.

Not getting comfortable lying in my bed.

Constant sleep in my eyes, especially since some nurse said to me, Yes, that's a sign that one is dying.

Listening to a CD and wanting to finish it up when I'm in a hurry, or getting stopped at the important break also, and have the frock group usually go on with the cut forever.

There, there's a sampling of frustrating time (or more pet peeves, I guess) for me.

Tell us where the chair is.
Tell us of idleness.
Tell us the real difference
between long term goals
and short term ones
so we can mete out our life.
Your lips speak softly
of the raw red lipstick
******* a kiss
cutie,
but let's let true sinners
indulge themselves
while we try to express ourselves

Splotchy lipstick
from there at the piano,
I know you're not a
"rooch" as they say, and a *****, of course
but high class
But I cant' help but call myself a
male "rooch"
and a male *****
and you're obviously
not a *****
You look kinda daring and come hither
in the face a little sometimes.
What I'm saying is
Young Lady
Opposites sometimes
do attract
and I love your voice
Let's get together
in the tether
and wax heavier
and heavier
and write letters
and know what it means
to be "more better"

I'm looking forward
to getting more CD's
cozy, nice Christmas gifts,
Illinois basketball is blooming
a batch of my poetry
typed up by one of my caregivers for me to read
Rejoicing in the social aspects of Christmas
as some Muslims do
Reading a couple of easy read books
Enjoying the cold weather
(I like it cold rather than hot)
Doing some rewarding activities here in the hospital
Sending out Christmas cards to old friends
Pertinent emails to and from family
Timely phone calls from them and back
and the signing of Illinois football recruits
and the Yankee hot glove league
December is my favorite month
mainly because that's when
Illinois can win some ballgames in basketball,
mainly non-conference

Recently I've been reading a book about American Bandstand from   Philadelphia 1957-1963
and it's given me what I call the Bandstand Blues
where I recall a bygone era
when things were much simpler
and wish I was coping now
like I did back then
rather than being swarmed under by the undercurrent of
the jet age and the age of the computer,
where I had teen crushes
on the like of Arlene Sullivan, Carole Sealdeferri, and Trini Giordano
such that I daydreamed about being famous like they were someday
and going off and meeting them and dancing with them
Unfortunately that dream never
came true
Being a loner back then, I was envious
of the teen parties all the regulars had that I read about in the teen magazines
I would have like a
social life like that
wanting to go with what were considered the truly neat girls in school,
and vicariously imagining
myself up there as one of the
regulars in what seemed like
their bump and grind dances
and discovering my puberty that way
rather than through several girlfriends I had in school
a little bit
admiring the nice story of
**** Clark and wanting to
emulate him someday
which I fell far short of
as I grew old
although like I say, I managed to acquire some
wealth later on in life
Wanting to have trendy clothes
and trendy hairstyles
like the boys did
rather than being
rather dowdy in my opinion then,
and imagining what it would be like
growing up in probably what was a little more
sophisticated atmosphere back east
as I could tell from family vacations there
But I do cherish the fascination
The good side of bandstand in the book

That is the same one I like –
the beat to Shotgun by Jr. Walker
and the All Stars
It makes me feel militant
like I’m attacking the Cong
or leaning on
the 4th of July celebration
for “the dudes” in front
to attack the bang-a-gong crown
if they throw Molotov
cocktails at
‘em
and brissel with pigtails
Blockbuster wasn’t like this.
The DVD business seems sick
compared to Dead-Eye ****
who harks back to a character names
Ben.
Why because I love you
Shy because I help few.
Why Gentle Ben and **** Nixon
maybe -
to go along with a certain beat.
I just want to savor
the past I guess
and think I did my best.


from the Frankie Avalon song “Why”

The old ones seem haunted
even with ole Presidents
making their whistle-stop campaigns.
Blacks on their exodus from the south,
streaming into them, one can visualize
with their souls and
spirits accompanying them as they seek
a decent life.
Imagine the shoeshine stands with their shoeshine “boys” and black attendants in the restrooms
which was probably as far as some of
them got.
The newsstands with their variety of
newspapers and sundries alerted
the lonely travelers to Wall Street
and elsewhere, businessmen
who would stream in with a sophistication
the common traveler feared.
The smells of leather baggage,
the cleanser that porters used
to keep the coaches clean wafted in.
The smell of cigars and wrinkles
of old men’s skin let us know
that the porters would be appearing
with a bevy of special guests.
History speaks in these stations
as well as some bus stations
around the country with their
dangerous drifters who would serial ****,
and the ambitious young talents off
to the big city to seek success who we would
later never hear of.
The local Union Station in Champaign has been
turned into businesses, but I can
just see Abe Lincoln arriving
speaking from the caboose and making
his way to a horse and buggy
outside to go to the local county courthouse.
Long live ghost-filled train stations
everywhere, and don’t let us forget
the homeless and destitute street people
who need to use their restrooms and
sit down in the waiting area seats
to take a needed load off.
They’re that important in the general
pictures of things, at least to me.

Listen to my heartbeat heart line beat
to the beat we got
only one and one I
fear the reaper
when it comes to the young
killer in shackles Ball and Chain;
Yeah Janis Joplin’s version of the song,
and the discriminate use
of *******
and bang a gong
and get it on
and caress
not stink the young
Better hit a love run
Someone got their dovegun
Ball and Chain heartache.
Tom and Bob’s cheesecake –
run, run
Heartache gun.

The baseball pennant races are in
full bloom,
the good feelings of the 4th are there,
not that the disappointment involved
with dissident elements doesn’t put
a damper on it for me.
Yeah the wonder of the U.S. to
some people like me.
Yeah the anticipation of Labor Day.
Yeah the feeling that another
summer was confidently enjoyed.
Also I like the beginning of the U of I
fall football practice
I also like being able to come to grips
with the terrible terrorist problem
in this country
I also enjoy the air conditioning,
some of the new movie releases
and anticipating some
of the new TV shows.
These are some of my
midsummer highs.

Contreras
Delacroix
Tegnaroa
Monique –
All hands on deck as you wrap your
piece in a handkerchief and
give it to the little black boy in the ghetto,
and hope to pray or Saturday night it won’t
be as unique.
Hey what’s a matter with your sign.
Hail hail rock ‘n roll.

from “School Days” by Chuck Berry

The old ones seem haunted
even with ole Presidents
making their whistle-stop
campaigns.
Blacks on their exodus from the south,
streaming into them, one can visualize
with their souls and
spirits accompanying them as they seek
a decent life.
Imagine the shoeshine stands with their shoeshine “boys” and black attendants in the restrooms
which was probably as far as some of
them got.
The newsstands with their variety of
newspapers and sundries alerted
the lonely travelers to Wall Street
and elsewhere, businessmen
who would stream in with a sophistication
the common traveler feared.
The smells of leather baggage,
the cleanser that porters used
to keep the coaches clean wafted in.
The smell of cigars and wrinkles
of old men’s skin let us know
that the porters would be appearing
with a bevy of special guests.
History speaks in these stations
as well as some bus stations
around the country with their
dangerous drifters who would serial ****,
and the ambitious young talents off
to the big city to seek success who we would
later never hear of.
The local Union Station in Champaign has been
turned into businesses, but I can
just see Abe Lincoln arriving
speaking from the caboose and making
his way to a horse and buggy
outside to go to the local county courthouse.
Long live ghost-filled train stations
everywhere, and don’t let us forget
the homeless and destitute street people
who need to use their restrooms and
sit down in the waiting area seats
to take a needed load off.
They’re that important in the general
pictures of things, at least to me.