I was broke as usual it's okay I understood that far easier than I ever did being well off.

Long as there was a bottle and a room I could crash in I was good.
I never cared to gamble.
I lived my life that was a gamble enough

My money i preferred to be wasted upon myself not given to a fixed game played by overpaid children.

The only sport I ever loved was fighting.
I understood you against another.
In life its always you against the world.

I loved to fight even when you lose you know you've lived
I had stepped between those ropes often.

Paid the the price for a simple mistake and been knocked flat on my *** for it.
Boxing is a human chess match very few men have what it takes to go toe to toe with another.

Anyone can fall down it takes a man or mental patient to keep getting back up.
I had paid my dues broken bones multiple concussions between that and all the ***** poured into my skull you think I would be braindead by now.

Some would tell you I already was.
And those people would be like most full of **** speaking on things they know nothing about.

Critics come in all forms.
Don't worry over there opinions nobody ever worth a **** sat on the sidelines.

I had nothing to show for my years.
I could barely get moving some days.
But when the drinks hit me right and some young **** called me out i still had that spark that fueled the fire.

Never take **** from.anyone no matter how tuff they seem.
Anyone can get caught anyone can bleed.

Remember kids its not what you can dish out.
Its how much you can take and keep going that makes you tuff.

I wore my scars like tattoo's.
Everyone of them had a story.
I never believed in luck.

I just kept going no matter what stood before me.

If I depended on luck in my life.
I would be up **** creek for the rest of my existence.

Never stay down no matter how easy it seems.

I am the night clerk
I work the graveyard shift
I've checked in many people
Never saw anyone check out

When they walk in
the night bell rings
I think
What's all of that crazy thunder about

I've checked in
the wild and weary
the tormented and scary

The pious
the martyrs
the dancers
the fishermen

Even
Bob & Ted
Carol & Alice

Clark Gable
he stayed here too

Everyone looks me in the eye
pleading for a room,
I have many
the night is late
only the dead are awake

Some nights, though, it can be quiet
I put my feet up on the desk
watch another season of the soap opera
The Young and The Restless

There are no regulars
No one returns
Not even
the dopers
the smokers
the flatulent
the token takers

When everyone is checked in
That crazy thunder it stops
But the night is long
There's sure to be another storm.

Looking for comfort
Tears in my eyes
Like rain pouring down
From the steel grey skies
I've had a lot of time to think
Since you've been gone
I haven't had a shave in three days now
I can't seem to face the mirror
Breathe deep they say
It will help you heal
What do they know anyway
I'll just lay here in bed
Waiting for it to pass
It my take weeks
Maybe months...
Who knows it could be years
Cloudy skies cloudy judgement
I'm impaired and I haven't had a drop
I could wish the pain away
But what would that help

I'm just going to stay in bed
until these clouds roll by
I look out my window
And what do I see
A steel grey sky following me

an unspoken word
for every hole
drilled in the core
of held beliefs

red-hot mantle
cools by degree
losing its fluidity
silver surface thin

molten river beneath
restless currents
roil and boil
mixing strata

we become
bitter metal
iron hardening
under pressure

In this tightly interwoven
tapestry of
           silks and cottons
softness upon stems
an intricately-*****
                     journey
manifesto of life
        I find myself in
patchwork landscapes
of ochre and
rust turning
           turquoise
earthern shades
of cumin and cardamom
cloves and coriander
piquant red of paprika
alighting the senses
My fingers reach out
to sift the powder
to crush
fragrant fronds
of fresh basil and oregano
upon the blueprint of tips
allow their scent
to permeate my skin
and infuse tissue
                of tongue and lips
and I seem to be
in this
           bustling marketplace
my blood afire like
dried ghost pepper
searing and brightening
all flavors
fenugreek and asafoetida
to soothe the ache
of emptiness
chervil and chive
to get juices flowing
I want to slit open
vanilla pods
get at the beans
revel in their essence
wear it all over me


In this realm of spice
and paradise
I am flying,
a magic carpet of dreams
unrolling before me
like an unfurled flag
of new existence
The sounds of hagglers,
fading in raw visons
of shiny apple colors
olives piled high
textures of smooth cherry
budded broccoli
of walnut wrinkles
aroma of guava

Music takes over
I am in a cloud of
oud and lute
syncopated tabla
bells and rumbling
taut skin drum beats
Or is that long low whir
simply my heart purring
to the cadence of
       freedom's call?

I only know
that in the whisk
of a second's split
I will savor the flight
and also the
                fall

One day, I believe it was a Saturday
before the eve of Mother's day or Father's day I have
forgotten, let's say it was ten years ago,
the sun rose brighter than any day had
on any day I had woken still drunk.
The skies were blue as a bruise from a punch
on the jaw and stark as, shockingly pure , almost .
I awoke remembering a bit of the chaos of last night.
I sort of recalled getting my lights punched out by
Eduardo, Didn't realize he was a black belt,
but I beat the hell out of his fists.
I recall trying to swap girls or something,
young and dumb as a sombrero thrown in the air
on new year's , I was, no purpose, but to see if
they had those feelings too.
And all hell broke loose.
My girl got mad, Eduardo got mad.
His girl smiled at me.
I kind of grabbed her and kissed her
pasionately, she returned it.
Then Eduardo punched her and my sweet
Felicia cold cocked me.
Then he  hit me and Felicia pulled his girl's hair.
It was bad. But good, you only live once ,
I said to Juanita as we limped home.
Woke up next to her, she and I both had black eyes
and hangovers. That Cuervos is crazy ,
dude!

why do blackbirds
leave so many brown droppings
on my white mailbox, riveted
to a red painted post, planted
in green Bermuda grass, by
a gray asphalt road, under
a baby blue eye sky

Some nights I shade
my eyes
from dark dreams
like a broken hawk's wing
stuck in the hot tar
of a back country road
when sleep seems
like a long ways to go
in a bad war
and desire and desire
and desire like a fire
in my bones
won't leave me alone.

some will talk of peace
then go home
and terrorise their neighbour

or their own family
their spouse
their children