The neon kisses the sidewalk below embracing strangers as they pass
in all directions none seem towards home.
***** sidewalks and the slums splendor Im a gatekeeper of despair and hard
luck just living for the bells chime to echo from the counter.

Drunks and ****** gather within my confines the outcasts of the night my people
seldom will I ever know more than a signature upon the page.
Moths drawn together attaracted by neon light.
Tommorows not a promise so embrace feeling and grow numb in reflex for now.


Are we not twisted from exposher numb from the streets brutal truth?
I count the hours a television for companion a bottle a often short staying vistor
who's welcome till the hangover's regret.

Some pills to drive my thoughts and a fresh *** of coffee to fuel my engine
tIme kills even the most unfaded of us all.
And through the night they gather some to escape the cold others for a quick escape
or fast **** to forget as if in a Halloween costume soon they'll return to there true act
of a life.

Embrace as lover's when there nothing more than roomates hey kids were doing great
you coming home for Christmas this year?
And so they like well trained actors reprise there roles.

But i see there mess allnight I collect the rejects nothing more but fragments
glass that reflect what they wish could never be.
If only we could rewind.
But life's highway cant be retraced so on we roll.

I  collect there money and take down there names the keeper of memories
tattered wings fly none the less.
As for the women the far away stares are but shared thoughts of a misery
more bitter we drink from the same passed down glass.

Some things just don't have to be said to be understood.
The nights my watch my vices fuel me for yet another round.
the neon signs my beacon And the moths glide to flame with the turning of the switch.

Were all ****** up but seldom can some show the flaws .
I embrace them unspoken please sign here.
Tommorows walk we'll pretend to not see for we all need to feel
invisible sometIme.

The end of my shift bids farewell to my collected chaos tired we've become in constant
recollection the light is off for now.

I cast my words away like children cast stones over dark waters on a summer's sunset soon faded.
Torn between a direction none with many promises of hope but surely chaos in hand with devil's grip.
One is never good enough and twelve is but a taste of a speeding train soon to derail.

My message is a as murky as the  air that swirls in his barroom of empty ness I call my existence.
Tortured genius and drunken buffoon often share drinks of a sandy nature in an oasis of torment.
Beaten in thought and charred in reason I'm seldom at home in this crowd.

Stones that skip often no matter the distance sink into the dark waters
of empty ness.

We are moments shared in logic of other's shattered in fragments.
No attempt seems to clam my efforts only drown my hope.
It's written upon the page will you ask or simply ignore ramblings in
a staged tragedy. I seldom seem real.

Stones were once part of boulders aborted by mountains.
So after the fall what is left but fragments?
Maybe I'll pull it together if only for a moment.

I'm slipping in sanity and drowning in the depth of a hollow existence mocked by my own words
like a prisoner left too long within the hole.
I shout only for my voice's comfort.

To long I've rambled I've begun to sink.
A sunset's embrace is but a epitaph of envy in a gravediggers diary and I am but a blank page.

Hey John  dam it's been long so what do ya do these days?
Well I write  do stand up comedy.
Wow like your not even funny and you were always so shy I cant imagine you doing that.

                                                   Another Person.
Hey wow this is a really deep write who would guess the comedian could write so deep.

                                                 Yet Another

Hey you know your jokes really arent family friendly.
Some of them were really offensive and you should really stop talking about so many taboo
subjects maybe stop being so vulger.


                                      A Person I Knew When I Was A Kid

Hey man have you changed remember how you were so shy and didnt fit in
Its so great to see you trying so hard do you work i mean a real job cause that writting stuff and comedy is
okay for fun but you gotta grow up sometime JP is it okay to call you JP.
I mean we herd how you dont like being called that anymore but we always called you that.

                                                A So Called Friend.

                                              Hey you ever hear from John?
  Oh well probaly just off being weird what a loser man he thinks he's funny.
                    **** maybe funny looking what a stupid ******* .
                                                Hey John!
Man i was just talkin about you what you been up to dam it's good to see you.



                                                      A Stranger That I Made Laugh

                                                         Hey wanna drink?
                          You must keep people around you laughing all the time.

                                                     Sometimes Ignorance Is Bliss

Sometimes we run only to reflect on that which we tried to escape.
Its a twisted comedy to a burden of lifes stage every flaw shown in a public forum.
Mock me today for no more will i cast stones to hear the splash or await a ripples view.

**** it today i'll avoid it for tommorows worry.
As a grave's whisper echo's just a smile of certain didain in a groups empty flaw.
Sometimes I run but never do I pretend to escape.

Like a old radio to a forgotten generation still I exist to keep company in a hollow
time.
Static a old friend and reminder of what can never be.

Pages left unread a point ive seldom understood.
Ive created the cage yet forgot its reason or construction.
In a corner none seem to grace the light of worn out eye's.

Dreams dont make the embers of a fire raise the warmth on a winters chill.
Old air cant open lungs to a new path only cast a mold into a decayed once open mind.
Ive grown to see the road ahead is a circle and only dogs chase there tails.

Were always a step from the close yet many will see in others a vision to inspire.
Im growing to see no choice only a role cast of stone.
Can i rip the page  to begin fresh from all but never erase the thought that
was you.

Blood a marker dried was a river ow but a ditch.
Cast the stone's run while you can for a crawl is all i can bare these days.
And if its was tommorow would we just drift in the thoughts of a day?

Gone am I.
But a page to be viewed as other's will.
Embrace the thought for a vision is but a dream of rest we can never escape.
In my thoughts im void of rest and so ******* tired I cant bare the weight.
I can no longer cast stones for the reactions sake.

It sit's there apon the bar mocking me a clown in a insane circus of
never ending torment.
The music a backdrop to the madmans bluff.
Closing time never stops the want only speeds up my fire to consume.

Maybe it's time to slow down many say but when your breaks never were installed a crash is always certain.
**** it!
It's my vice and least mine arent hidden like thoose of others even through bloodshot eye's
I view just as clear as any other.
My hero's were all monsters to there own ego.
And when you belive your own ******* your as washed up as a name
painted on a wall left to fade.

Everyone gets passed by sometime.
But if this were a game I wasnt hitting them outta the park anymore and riding the bench
wasnt my style.

None had the nerve to stand up to me for even in madness my wit cut like a razor to a dull sense.
I kicked what was left back ordered another yes she was waitting.
And like a well trained dog for months I had swallowed my true voice to speak her lines
but ******* in breath is worse than a lie at heart.

Tonight i'd  cast it aside the fire in the glass didnt give me courage it only softend the blow.
I never needed a crutch to call a backbone my words stood for me and i lived them.
Tonight i wouldnt be that person silent meek or  drifting in the dellusion called love.

The bar keep gazed at me as a friend.
**** if not for that weak bridge of brotherhood id been cut off
hours ago.
I was at that point of rage and fury that made little noise just like a dragon the fire simpley
cast smoke in a dim lit world and shame on the fool who tested me tonight.

Trouble was a long lost friend that never ventured far when it comes to my thoughts.
My thoughts were blank and my world was at the point of change.
But no direction was always my role in the play.

Tonight i'd cast the first stone and destroy the mountain as well **** the view.
Give me space!
Emptyness is many things but a blank page is seldom a call for help.

As night met my warmed blood and cold heart I found solice as always in my own
thoughts some people need emptyness and isolation is but a sister to happiness.
I could always find a crowd when in need of shared thoughts and a simple laugh.

Tonight I wasnt empty for if i a flask in this thought known as life.
I was just half full.

Sometimes  you have to erase the landscape to see clear.
Change is something better left in pocket as tonight I did drown in a half empty
thought.

He stared off into the distance a stranger to all including himself.
Often when men stand apon that ledge there is little to be said befor the leap.
We all joked poured drinks and passed beer's paying little are no true attention
like the word we mocked we were ******* far from friends.

I saw the thought and spoke nothing I cant stop a trainwrweck  yet i can always get a good view.
He knew like a sappy western sundown would bring death  in a lost stance.
Even with a slight buzz I always saw the view of destruction in a writer reason with poetic sense.

I gotta go there was no soundtrack to warn no ******* follows traggedy
only seconds were left a hourglass count began silent to drunks and in honest
verse none would care.

He handed me his last beer and without question I knew goodbye was not a question.
The chapter had been written.
dark clouds didnt set the canvas to what would happen are laughter matched the light of a early summers embrace.

The sirens i'll always remember the the sirens a invite to a choas coated scene.
The others only looked in that puzzled deer in the headlights moment.
Doc  as we knew him had left the party  drove a mile down the road  
and turned a relaxing friday evening to a day spoke about in often twisted truth.

What had caused it?
A woman as simple as that a fight over a married woman and between the
two neither was her husban.

At the scene it was a sureal event  a fight had broke out Donald  laid
face down in the yard a blood spattred bloated lawn ornament from hell.
And in the truck the man I knew as friend in only names sense lay slumpped over the wheel.

It's a strange thing to absord in one's mind movies are just ****** up lies.
And the source of this chaos went unscathed.
And like any small town it would be talk of every conversation.

And like a snowball from a fragment it turned into a story that held no truth.
And with time it was forgotten replaced by gossip's ever turning wheel.
All had forgotten but I never have for it replays like some ****** up theater act within my thoughts.

Yeah i hate that ******* id love to scatter his brains across the the floor.
the ******* of anger seldom faces the reallity's of truth.
Whats behind the dark glasses is  more than foder for a barooms laughter.

More truths are in jokes than a simple conversation.
Ive viewed the trainwreck often in my life.
But this is just one view into many of my life's backpages.

I often hide behind laughter.
And shield my reallitys to mask what none should understand.
You were more than a memory sorry I never did more.

Most forgot but I never have.

       Dedicated to Russel Bishop.

It was  at the crack of the afternoon always  when like some old circus bear i staggred to life.
Coffee surged through my veins with a touch of turkey to embrace the day to day troubles
with a sense of reason in the insanity.

The whispers were heavy like gunshot's that filled a early morning duck hunt.
Where half drunk men shared bottles and stories of conquest's some false others just straight *******.
He's losing it ya know?

They had read my scrbblings and saw the flaws yet dared never to speak the words to
the devil in the flesh.
But much like a villan or a dam good ****** with a std i was just waitting to
run yet again.

The Gonzo of old died hard and a writer of insanity
seldom was at a loss for words or  far from a intersection of trouble.
The road called.
And I her slave seldom ignored her for any woman worth her salt
was a cruel ***** at heart and thats what made them  so dam aluering.


I was the president of debauchrey the chairman of the boy's club
a locker room jester who seldom showed his flaws.
But time scars us all and I was no diffrent.

I had slowed yet went past that edge like a child who tears into a gift seldom
looking at the paper let alone who its from.
Still that gleam in the eye did exist and the danger was all but to real.

I was ready to claim it back although none could take it from me.
The bike was older yet still had a howl like a devils hound on a sunsets promise.
the drugs the ***** the women all where but part of the drive and freedom
of a perk.

Much like the whiskey that burns in my veins id never
water down my word's
Cold wether was pointing me south  the Key's were calling
in a tragic Hemmingway sense the old man's sea was but a bitter pill
and a islands stream of erased thought.

On a road that never grew old as I.
  Soon i was off.
And God only knows what would lead to this tour of destruction.
But all i can say is gentlemen start your engines.

For the chaos has just begun.

                                               Welcome  To The Boy's Club
                                                             Part One