~


slightest dust
                         of white
   fell silently on the  
                                   foothills

an old doe sluffs the extra coat
trots slow towards the northeast
         her heavy breath
                     a falling cloudbank

in the distance a thrush sings to me
         or was it the morning sun
                  the entire meadow
                                 enjoyed the interlude  /

cramming lifetimes into weeks
pounding 5ths of Jim Beam for 8 weeks
jumping to **** for a minute
then onto the LSD
all the while bathing in ****
wannabe thugs on drugs –
Lil Pauly stepped out of the apartment
slid into the CRX
offered up a dose and a ****
it was Tuesday afternoon after all
balla status without notoriety
only the ego fed insanity of
white entitlement sprinkled
with the arrogance of youth –
the truth is we were lucky
no one died or did hard time
we walked through the height of addiction
basically unscathed
battle stories unmatched
as we left each stone, ****** and alone
now, grown, our roaming days have ceased
we chat of old days
knowing nothing would send us on a month long ******
except maybe the change in wind direction –

triangular tree-tops dot the horizon
the Fir has a specific shape
scented cones fall to delighted squirrels
eagerly scooping and burying nature’s bounty
as another winter has passed without catastrophe
blankly staring out stained glass, longing to feel the grass
between aging toes
mud puddle hop-scotch  memories transport me from a desk and a screen
to a childhood filled with wide open spaces and wooded glades
and the freedom to explore the world around me
soft cooing of the female squab forces the present into focus
and I sit watery-eyed trying to recapture a fading memory
it slips from view as I try to rekindle an interest in the job at hand
slow death by 9 to 5 employment

awoke with another hook
looking to blown this right outta the water
oughta shook Snookie
fo never readin no books
crooked *** inbreds
ready to lead the sheep
creeping back to the deep
I can’t sleep-
press pass
lights flash
watchin the mass
of humanity in calamity
it’s a tragedy
but it has to be, see
freedom
ain’t free
in this democracy
hear the plee
of the babies in the ghetto
wearin tore clothes
with a snotty nose
pictures of third world
flies on eyes
absence of prose
liars deny rights of any child
lost in poverty
it oughta be the other way
a new day
saying er’rybody stay
its the America way….
the day to pray fades away
and the gay play
swaying in swag
bagging up the trash
of societies last splash –

Rollin down the street with lil Pauly trollin all the freaks with their Converse conversing on the Servicemen and the suicide rates waiting at the gates for the slow ride to make the left turn at the community estate, I state, its great liven upper middle in the greenest state eating entitlement cake acting like I am vital and any mistake would break the system we bump fists and switch the disk by remote control stroll down the veranda like a Versace panda rockin an ice banana and a Bernie Sanders bandana living breathing socialism planner listen to the police scanner don't have to smoke bammer like Loc in the slammer up in Alabama fresh pajamas flannel and polyester pics of a jester wrestler molesting a waitress successfully doing the Cosby ya'll be callin me insensitive but I'm representative of a nation that don't give a **** --

blinded by her highlights
with all my might
I right the ship
and fight being
slighted
by the right-wing blighters.
feeling like I am fighting for air
her hair entrances
and with a sideways glace
I chance it…
offering my plight
and feeling uptight
she lightly takes my hand,
instantly alright
I bite my lip
in delighted bliss
as she leans in for a kiss
love, no longer unrequited…
I smite those so trite as to
dismiss our love
despite
its rightness
and
my whiteness ignites
and I sue for the book rights –

drunken podiatrist
face full of feet
seated at the reapers’
keep
pleated sneakers
freak seekers
weaker than peeking tweekers
needing respite a quiet pine cove beacons
alone with disorganized thoughts,
sleep evades capture
melancholy and fidgety
***** fingers fumble in the needles
absentmindedly truffle hunting
little piggy, sad and introspective –
well-wishers fish for the perfect dish
the combination of flavors that will remove pain
while creating pleasant inconsequential conversation
as no one wants to look at reality
even in times of loss
…but at what cost?
mossy lip gloss tossed
plausible pauses cause
raw nerve sawing –
bunion burns and yellowed toenails curl
once again seated in front of the lonely *******
red eyes hide nights of lies to wives
despising the rising bile
fruit flies dive against spore covered windows
cluttered floor acts as a shore against poor ******
and he has the audacity to charge my insurance –

I couldn’t do for my mother what I did for my dog
By Samuel L Temple

Trip One
The phone rang soft, as it is want to do
answering it I found the quiet voice
of my dear mother. It was November
and a chill not only filled the air, but
also my very being shook with the new
information I was being given.
2013, yet another way
for me to hate Thanksgiving had begun.
It was only a few days after we
discovered my old lab had cancer too.

Falling to my knees I wept, but only
for a moment, I realized my wife
and I had already been researching
a cure. A brand new life was unfolding.
We had both the material and the
know-how to produce a new cancer cure.
His name was Rick Simpson and he was our
hero. Youtube and websites gave the news
and we watched eager and with bated breath.

Being an outdoor grower gives one the
access needed to produce large amounts,
being part of a co-op gave me the
ability to outsource all my needs.
A plan was made by the skin of my teeth,
and we set out trying to save mother
from the scourge that kills indiscriminate.
At the same time our old black lab, Jimmy
was losing weight and growing foot tumors;
we were embarking on a two-front fight.

It was chilly that late Fall afternoon
As we loaded the old Nissan pick-up
And headed down south to California
We left meds for the dog with our sonny
and loaded pounds, sealed, into blue crates,
filled the tank and bought some food for the trip
and said a silent prayer as we began
this epic journey to save moms life.
The sun shone through the clouds and I felt warmth
…would be a while before I felt again.

It was over two full mountain passes
when the fuel filter popped, leaving us stuck,
in Medford…a little cash but no car
my dear Auntie was the call we made first
and she, as always, wanted to help us
so she wired some dollars and we got
ourselves a rental Avenger that day
the journey recommenced and South we went
stopping briefly by the Bay for a friend
who donated pounds to the cause at hand

For another thousand miles we rode
one arm stretched South, and the other behind
we avenger-ed our way to the badlands
near Goat mountain, butted against a base
we found a small white oasis of love
inside, a frail, sickly, cancerous mom
wrapped in a blanket all smiles and pain
my dear sweet mother extended her hand
skin draped skeleton with liver spots bright
and hazel eyes shining with love for me

Small talk subsided and so we began
to encourage mother to look beyond
fifteen years, Narcotics Anonymous
and all the kool-aid she could ever drink
had so corrupted her processes that
she was unsure about starting a new cure
I tentatively brought out the product
handed one gelatin capsule over
and I watched her swallow pure cannabis
extracted with grain alcohol en masse'

Pounds of marijuana stuffed into pills…
“More than one whole gram ingested daily
and don’t you ever, ever miss a dose
you think you must take chemotherapy
so please just smoke after the appointments
be sure to get so much rest and don’t stop
try to eat and be a little active,
but rest is key to healing…and mother
these instructions are not for fun, you see
I honestly believe this can cure you”

We visited through the weekend and left
heading up the interstate to Oregon
hopeful and tired, we held hands and talked
inconsequential nothings passed chapped lips
as both of us rode home deep in new thoughts
thinking back to the grey shade of her skin
and the light that still shown strong in her eyes
I began to feel a pride in what
we were trying to do, and for her faith
that my mother placed in me that cool day.

Trip Two

I sat at the edge of my bed, thinking
we were about to take a winter drive
I had rented a nice 2012
Chevy Malibu, but there was no beach
only the forethought of desert sand dunes
and the ole military base fence line
mom’s pet coyotes would be at the trough
and her beautiful pits would be lounging
all I could do was softly pray for her
whispering under my breathe, let me see.

In vast style and comfort we headed
south again. Stopping at the Bay, again
getting product from my friend, yes, again
and driving down the I-5, cruise control.
Fast food and the ever watchful radar
were the order of the trip as miles
disappeared and the ribbon of road crept
beneath tires stretched to infinity
soon the Tehachapi’s gave way to sand
rocky desert with Joshua tree stands

The coolness of early winter did blow
sending particulates and shivers down
the arms and legs of my wife as we sat.
Looking at the small white cottage, hoping.
She came to the door with twenty more pounds
and the smile I remembered from my youth
she spoke of lower counts and feeling good
and increased appetite and acceptance
fifteen years, narcotics anonymous
and finally she could see for herself.

Marijuana had more to offer than her
than just ‘high’ to hide from reality
it was medicine, possibly the best
the world could offer. It blends perfectly,
with the endocannabinoid system
boosting the body’s ability for
fighting off cancer and disease. And now
there was a real chance at saving her.
Tears were shed as we all hugged and smiled,
kisses and proclamations of success.

We packed slowly that morning, feeling worn
Fifteen hundred miles lay before us
With Monday work looming after a long
Sunday drive. It was in Barstow that I
decided I wanted to show Tina,
Reno… so we took the 395
north, the Serria-Nevada’s loomed large.
Working within the constraints of time, we
seemed to be right on schedule, Reno
by four, and at home eight hours later,
it was about that time I noticed the
snow level was getting closer each mile.

It was in the early evening when first
they came; little specks of snow, delicate.
Softly falling on my clean windshield
This moment matched the snow along the road
reached our car, a sinking feeling began.
We drove easily over the first pass
Just a shade over 7000 feet high,
the snow,  falling faster, I heard a sob.
Glancing over I saw my wife huddled,
face to the car door, crying quietly.

Creeping in like a child wanting one
More drink

For perfect fudge use marshmallow
Fluffy white and soft as the snow
Boil butter til almost clear
A sweeter treat you’d never know

So much sugar gets poured in here
dash of vanilla at the rear
don’t need an oven, it’s no bake
grab me the parchment paper, dear

any treat or peppermint flake
can be added, it will not break
if you buy, it is not so cheap
better homemade, like baking cake

it’s worth the effort, take the leap
a double batch will make a heap
you’ll be a hero with your peeps
……you’ll be a hero with your peeps

~
A sliver through leaning elm
lattice branches disguise and distort.
Speckled with yellow, green tree frogs
took the shine as an omen
and sang for lovers with feverous desire.

The goddess of night stirred me also
as I peered deep into the wicker…
I sought a more clear view
but her coyness combined
with the angle of twig
and left my gaze unsatisfied.

Low in a north/ south canyon
barely able to see the sky
I shed a tear for her passing
while wishing for every singing frog
a bright and inquisitive mate.  /

duck face to fish gape
snap chatting **** pics
instagraming the ******
narcissism holds sway a nation –
apathetic selfie queens
scroll past Syria
to delve deeply
into the Minaj/ Swift debacle
shackled minds line mall walls
behind shines the toothy grin
of sinister consumer based
individualism..
a schism widens as the generational divide
resembles a large impressive Grand Canyon…
as opposed to the little crack in south Colorado –

piercing my right eye from within
daggers, sharpened with blame
fly true
through the blue
into faces of lying dry-cleaned faces
puffed and crimson
spittle gathering
hate speech teachings
reaching beaches far from informed shores –
new ***** blesses the young
shoveling modified nutrients
smiles beam
glistening sweat runs
internal furnace matching
warm glow of planned dumbing-down
vaccination zombie
mercury poisoned baby rocks silently –
embryonic images
in laboratory dishes
sample size offering a slight variance
right-wing politicians eagerly await
the first course
stem-cell soufflé
desperation sets in as reality takes hold
the shift already happened –
glancing at a dime-store wristwatch  
plotting an afternoon of debauchery
slowing pulling off the square
admiring the show -

spirited ferret
rare, ear hair tipped white
frightened pip carefully snaring
darting pairs flipping
clipped wings, carted
shipped riggings sing
lark songs
darkness brings
wronged Nips
angered and singing
ears ring banging hangers
tearing string Narcs protest
ingesting *** freeing boxes
rocks bling
****** tracks shear hearts
parked rack blesses
black guests

I watched a hopping little frog
He bounced across the road
He landed upon a mossy log

My feet got wet in the smelly bog
It looked to me a warty toad
I watched a hopping little frog

I heard the barking of a dog
Casing after a ball was throwed
He landed upon a mossy log

T’was hard to see through the growing fog
I considered a shade of green unowed
I watch a hopping little frog

Just a piece of the ecosystem, a cog
Dashing across grass freshly mowed
He landed upon a mossy log

I sipped a glass of eggy nog
And thought of pictured I’d been showed
I watched a hopping little frog
He landed upon a mossy log

seeking peace
longing to recognize myself
as whole
tiring of insanity
bouncing from issue
to conflict
pretending to be self-assured
while nervous about the unknown
the cold facts
are I am a mess
humanity flailing
in one small body –
the dust of my bones
longs to return to the ground
to feel only the breeze and the rain
washing over me
endlessly
the birds on wing
the low hum of an electric world
the faint smell of combustion engines….
it is only the fresh spring grass
and blooming Crocuses
that I desire to commune with
this old soul needs a break –
even while writing
I feel my neck hairs stand up
my cackle rising
blood becomes heated
as I am not a quitter
and do not live a life of giving up….
I just can’t understand
why I must struggle so
why the oil of my back
no longer works as if I were a duck
allowing this to fall away
and mean nothing
…………..
turns out,
as a grown man
I care……
but I wish sometimes I didn’t –

puffball cotton swab
clouds hung low
looking like I could reach out
***** them with a fingernail
and send a deluge
crashing through the valley below –
littered across the misty green valley
large black-bodied cows
exhaling steaming tendrils
one long bawl travels
the length of the meadow
her rumbling song
inspires a smallish brown thrush –
fir trees set along side
creating a border of mystery
from in-between
a slight and leaning maple sapling
and a large dominant fir grandfather
a tan doe steps out
tentatively
behind her two speckled fawns
their long ears
turning and twisting with each pasture sound
they step into the clearing slowly
and begin to pull the dew drops
off the grass blades….
morning ritual of the farmland –

frantic fingers in February
frost bitten and fumbling the knots
forbidden fish frolic, unsuspecting
free fresh chum flows from the flower bucket
as foraging future fillets
flounder in the underwater foliage –
fallen leaves create the floor
frog feet rest in the funk
finch feathers float on the ripples
frozen fox prints dance fancifully on the fresh fallen snow field
freely, my friends and I frolic also –

awaiting the next dynamic pandemic
I look to those surviving with AIDS and think….
we need to start letting death run its course
why feed the starving
either abroad or on our very shores
when the writing on the wall
is clear
7 billion humans were never meant to be here –
Bird flu, swine cold, mutated viruses
all working with such diligence
and we…or should I say, our scientist
biochemists,
those bent on immortality
or at the very least, a healthy populace –
be ****** I say!
There is a reason people die en masse'
there is a need pestilence and disease
there is a definite place for mass suicides
and the systematic destruction of cultures and races
we simply don’t have the space
concern
or reserve of resources to facilitate
all of these mouths…
and there are more on the way –
so much energy in giving the gift of children
to those born barren
as if we know better than nature what needs to breed
I have seen the mountain top
and I have seen the other side
and people, most of you are dead
probably me too
as it should be –

While snapchatting about my newest cat fail video
my Instagram bea blew up my twitter feed
I was all, “***! DM much…”
But she was already facebooking selfies.
I shot her a gif and invited her to follow me
On tumblr….
The whole time lamenting
Over my dead myspace account –

blood moons rise
and the Temple Mount is cloaked in tear gas
innocent lives lost to the droning of drones
irradiated dirt sets under fingernails fresh from the garden
the horsemen died without a flare
the samurai ghost warriors tremble at Wall Street policy
the tears of ten thousand babies
have been drank by flies
spreading vaccinations and pesticides
to wildlife protection areas.

* eating fast food at the gas station I pause to reflect*

morbid wealth in the hands of the conservative party
granting respite on one out of every 135 african americans
who can tap dance while rapping the Gettysburg Address
but only if they will perform on the upcoming reality show
“The Tappin’ Rappin’ Afrikkkans”
…….sore from the blatancy of new world racism
society sits back pretending to be mortified at the train wreck
but the ratings go up each week as water color fodder
fills the desperate air between lonely co-workers
trying so hard to be clever
they sever ties to cultural evolution
subconsciously choosing instead to live the lie
eat trash wrapped in petroleum
and recycle their ***** waste for the less fortunate
as a tax write-off

The days hold America’s rare air
as the election cycle once again ramps up
enough wealth to end poverty
spent daily on advertisements
aimed at convincing the masses
that they can end poverty simply by
being elected –
campaign managers bash statisticians
for expressing pole numbers
not conducive to their bottom line
relying instead on sound bites
and FOX news so-called reporting –
Hundreds of households held for ransom
with “voting” as the only way to avoid
repercussions and retribution
from self-righteous Republicans
wringing their hands, awaiting a win –
mandated munchkins munch on museum merchandise
manufacturing baseless accusations
manipulating the mainstream
always, for more –

flaccid pacifists symbolizing sexism
single-mindedly corrupting hostile youth
ruining bullying and facilitating inbreeding
through top-down initiatives laced with bath salts
the pussify-ing of America has begun –
tear soaked cheeks distort with rage
at the blatant separatist ideals propagated
creating not one nation under rule of law,
but many angry independent states bent on torture laws  
and privatized prison for profit
shareholders holding gavels and lives
in an unjust system of justification
……they deserve this –
broken-hearted mothers line razor-wire fences
defenseless against the tyrannical bureaucracy
beholden to the loved one wrongly incarcerated
banging bloodied fists against walls that hear no cries,
defeated, they slip into damaged Datsun’s disappearing
freeway anonymity is the course of the day –

Sittin at my desk wrestin with casas testers it’s a mess in the west when they express they hate these tests I rest my head on the desk and try to take a nap, restless sleep as my guests are blessed with criminal success and some failure see they are in jail and your gonna meet me if you leave the streets and catch a rap maybe packin a strap thinkin you all that it’s a trap like chicky saying its your baby actin lazy head all hazey bout to go crazy but instead you head to the jail cell cant afford bail whinning and wailing set you mind sailing quit flailing and failing let jail bring you educational singing graduation bells ringing mamma bringing baby sister to the shindig, it’s a win win better community orientation with a chance at employment despite a conviction let go the friction its just a decision and I am given you the chance to start liven …..

glimmer in the peripheral
     memories dance in a foggy mist
ghostly images swirl
      escaping distinction
offering instead
                 confusing blurred faces
creating long forgotten stirrings
    past-life occurrences
        mingle with childhood fantasy
       sending an over-active imagination
           running wild……
I violently shake my head
     to free myself from
        cobwebs and
          prevent myself from
                    being transported
                         ethereally
                                 off into space…..

I have work to do today!

I felt the sun
   shine of my face
and thought of its place
    in greater space

its warmth and light
     gave me peace
my worry ceased
     and I felt relief

the heavenly glow
    warmed my heart
gave me a start
     and took me apart

reconstructing my soul
    rebuilding it anew
I changed and grew
Looking into the deepest blue

I thanked its power
    Its creative force
My life and it’s course
     It being the source

I took a deep breath….
   Some people pray
To start their day
         I do it this way –

Raise up arms and give thanks
   To the powerful sun
And all it has done
    Since life has begun!

it’s a god-awful small affair
to the girl with the mousy hair
10,000 hipsters stand in the square
with ***** makeup and ****** flare
prayers fly into the dim lit sky
as a generation asks god  ‘why’
it’s a god-awful small affair
to the girl with the mousy hair
I sit here in despair
for a god of whom I did care
well, just a man with a master’s eye
for making all of the people sigh…
and now I sit here with my head in my hand
just trying to understand
what this world has come unto
can there ever again be skies of blue
and while *swishy in her satin and tat
frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat
there can never be another like that –
the morning news brought a cold chill
as the icon of us undesirables
came to be laid at rest
it’s on America’s tortured brow
leaving us to sit solemn
as old records spin
telling tales of space men
and life on mars
a little china girl
and one man who feel to earth
it’s on America’s tortured brow
the fashionista of glam rock
the birther of Ziggy
the man who sold the world
forever changing
chameleon
in smart shoes –
spinning grooves
and scattered cd’s
tears slipping away
as memories already start to fade
it’s the freakiest show
look at those cavemen go
will they ever know
just who left us
take a look at the lawman
beating up the wrong guy
it’s a god-awful small affair
to the girls with the mousy hair
now she walks with a sunken dream
and the cream that once rose so high
so too will come the time to die
and as all of us let him go
there can be a bit of hope for those
who carry a torchy flare
to the girl with the mousy hair
and will sing in the dead of night
with face paint and a big spot light
******* and the party boys
come out with their fancy toys
but it’s a god-awful small affair
if you find you’re too square to care
‘bout the goblin kings sad depart
from this earth and from hipster hearts
see these kids have no loyalty
to a man who helped define me
when the world gave me a frown
for kissing boys in a dainty gown
ole Davy gave me peace
with a confidence that never ceased
oh Mr. Jones I’m in debt to you
for turning my grey skies to blue
now I’ll forever carry this torch
from green valleys to my own front porch
but it’s a god-awful small affair
it’s nice to know some of us care…
about the earth and sun and stars
and yes
there is life
on
     Mars –

charismatic charlatan cloaking reality  
smile, the day is new
many a mark still to be worked
and left in squalor; penniless and without hope
it is a good show you put forth
standing in front  of a waving flag
speaking of unity and the dreams of freedom
I see the puppet strings, marionette style
eyebrows raise and hands wave
all while Jesus saves and teens rave
craving sustenance I reject the normal modes
seeking instead the dark corners and shabby shanties
where the real humans live
none of this post cold-war propaganda, only hate and fear for the unknown
broken dreams litter cracked sidewalks
dead grasses stand brown in the crevasses
longing for water or sunlight
both of which were banned in the last election
subjugated lonely folks stand single file
awaiting the stamped hand
signifying meat for the masses
if you are not procreating, your digested in the new American machine
shocked, I **** my head thinking of my youth
blue skies and free cheese

unable to shake this slight pain in my head
it has become as consistent as the rising and falling tide
looking at crystals and tea leaves unread
seeking a new place of perception in which to reside
doing my best to avoid getting caught up in dread
feeling myself peeling apart like toilet paper, multi-plied
attempting to maintain what’s left of my street cred
eyes puffy from crying after my mother went and died
seeing dignity flee leaving me not even a shred
no one notices how hard I have tried
never once being the man who turned tail and fled
thinking back to the moment when so softly she sighed
my crassness overflowing cracking jokes about the ******
seeing the anger flash across eyes fit to be tied
grasping for something to prevent a trip to the woodshed
a long piece of kindling, seasoned Maple, and wide
giving me something to think about before bed –

they sat in the tray
eagerly awaiting planting day
24 little beauties
of various shapes and sizes –
some, sisters
strains cut from the same mother
others, new to the farm
and new to me
I give them all the love of a doting father
gently and tenderly caressing leaves
and giving soft encouraging words
of success and growth –
today I bring in a Durban and a Rhino
and the set is complete
they join a cornucopia;
a white widow
a Burmese kush
one little stout body
called a Deep Purple
lemon pledge
sits alongside
a lambs breath crossed
with a sour diesel
the gorilla glue #4
looks lovely in the afternoon light….
I smile at the rows of little ladies
thinking about the next 5 months –
sunlight
infused soil
compost tea
giving them only the best
of the organic foods
micro-biotic nutrients
and cool well-water
bending them ever-so-slightly
to encourage a larger canopy…
it’s going to be a good year,
again –

first glance
penetrating blue
hostility
embodied
embroiled in inconsistency
irregular heartbeat
palpitates
facilitating fallacies
like ‘health’ and ‘well-being’
beings damaged goods are sold on clearance
shouldn’t the mentally ill be sold into slavery
eliminating national debt
by selling the sick to Chinese factories
sending those who drain our health care system
the **** outta the country –
broken records repeat 16 bar blues
supreme court embraces homosexuality and marijuana
while removing campaign donation limits
and the woman’s right to choose
maintaining balance
is often ugly for the masses
passing gasses for solar fuel
poisoning the producers
creating cancerous lesions
attempting to save the sky –
dangerous liaison as the corrupt
meet with the condemned
concentrating on collusion and coercion
of the community at large
so as to better control the carefree
bleeding calluses hold broken handles
handcuffed to the handrails
hanging on for dear life—
beaten seals stain beaches
furless
representing the future
freedom looks like death
sprinkled with red, white, and blue
candy
at least in my homeland –

some folks express how much I look like my father
around the eyes
occasional sternness
rarely though were our personalities
or character traits  
placed in the same category
until the puppies came –
ole Jimmy is 11 years old now
he and his brother were gifted by breeders
papered Labradors
10 week little ***** of fluff
had I known I was to slip into insanity
I would have never accepted the bounty
family of five
plus two chew monsters
leaving no part of home or possession sacred….
let the beatings commence –
I had watched my father discipline dogs
the same way he disciplined me
with a belt or stick…
though the dog could take far more raining
and damaging blows
than my adolescent body
between whiskey and unresolved anger issues
we were raised by hand –
when Jimmy’s brother got out of the enclosure
that hot summer day on Thomas Creek
the beatings had slowed
as they were outside pups now
barely three years old
still locked in youth…
the occasional slap would suffice as reminder
one day Roy took out down the paved road
trotting off into the sunset
I called after and started walking down the road…
dogs pick up on energy
and mine was foul turning unreasonable
he stayed 15 to 25 feet ahead of me
if I stopped, he stopped
if I ran, he ran…
so we trekked
and trekked,
and trekked
we reached the Bee Tree
which sat just at 2 miles from the house
when he gave up the chase
I got ahold of that ******* dog
and set to throwing punches….
I am no small man,
running six ,five, two-seventy
off in the distance I heard a car coming up the bend
I stopped hitting that dog and began telling him
how much more beatings would come after the car passed
I sat mumbling profanities at my dear pet for 1 whole minute
while the Subaru came into view
and then disappeared off into the hills –
I grabbed that dog after I was tired of beating him
and ****** that pup by his collar onto his tip toes
and fast marched two miles back home
cursing him for gaging and choking all the way…
when we got back to the farm I cut him loose in the fence
went in to wash up and get some water
about half hour later I went to check on him…
that ole pup walked up wagging his tail
sheepishly
looked up with two blood red eyes
as my dragging him home
had bust the vessels in both his eyeballs…
I collapsed and burst into tears…
lil ole Roy dog laid right at my feet
started to licking my face
trying to console me…
the farmer down the road shot my dog 2 months later
for playing goat herder
I have his brother still and a couple other pups
no doubt in my mind I will have dogs until I die
I also know Roy was the last dog I’ll ever hit….
I prefer to just look like my dad –

drums pound loudly
as the last real empire
builds up for one more great war
the final battle
to forever lock oil to the U.S. dollar
to end all hope for cultural variation
to show Russia and China why
we are the world police –
media blackout on Chinese warships
and Russian bombers
as we sit glued to a debate
with no real weight
we sit at the precipice
of history repeating
just call Obama, F.D.R.
but without the polio
to stop him becoming king –
when the first ship sinks
somewhere out in the South Pacific
will we have bombed our own
like the Tonkin Gulf
in order to gain public support
for one more crack at the draft
will it be those rascally men from the red menace
dropping our own stolen technology
on the heads of our sons
and combat ready daughters
will Russian destroyers invade the coastline
like we did in Normandy
to stop school shootings
and teach us all how to make borscht
do we actually get to utilize 50 year old
nuclear missiles
in the name of peace
and better trade rates –
the 40 years of my life
we have played in the Middle-East
hit and run, bomb and apologize
innocent civilians as collateral damage
robotic drones keeping tally…
will I get to see
in my lifetime
the horrors that are only properly expressed
on grainy History Channel video –

struggling to keep my eyes open
and stay awake
when sleep wants me, desperately
sandman tossin 60 pound bags at my face
and the incessant click-clack
of inmate keyboarding
has become the sweetest of soft lullabies
cooing and gently rocking me
a cool breeze ads to the comfort
enticing me to rest –
I catch myself locked into steady breathing rhythms
floating away on daydreams
barley capable of bringing myself back to ‘now’
the only way I am not sleeping on the job
in a most unsafe environment
is the occasional crackle of my radio coming to life
as somewhere in this facility of 3000 incarcerated
and 175 staff members
a shower issue has transpired
giving rise to a steady flow of C.B. communication…
normally this would be an irritant to not only myself
but also the students
diligently trying to accomplish their GED
but today,
it is a welcome alarm
a noisy reminder
to keep my eyes open
my wits about me
and hopefully get to 3 p.m. without being caught
or worse
fired –

the heartless darkness harkens to her
shapeless under the flowing frock
a slight breeze sends wafting gauze
to shimmer in the blurred moonlight
foggy images of monstrous mystery
play just out of sight, frolicking in the early morn shadows
pre-dawn on a night lit slightly by the waning moon
distorted stars shift effortlessly as the mist swirls
around delicate and chilly ankles
from the window above
a vantage just overlooking the unkempt garden
I take in the scene and fall in love
all over again –

overcome with thankfulness and gratitude
sitting in my regular life
with my common car
enjoying brain chemistry
free from lapsing synapsis
and misfiring nodes
I live mentally healthy
it is my joy –
of course I get down
the weight of the world
attempting to rest on my shoulders
I shrug
pull the rug
and unplug…
do mounting bills cause pressure?
could a opinionated youth
be reason for irritation?
are stinky dogs
enough to make one curl into a ball
and cry or stare
trapped in despair
hair all messed
acting contrarily to your ideal of self…
the point is
the world is not all roses and ice cream –
we all face adversity
we all experience anger
when we allow that feeling
to rule our lives
we are slaves
to chemistry –
I know, I know
Where is my compassion?
Where is my empathy?
I just don’t know what depression really is
I just can’t relate to a lack of attention
I just don’t understand the pain……
Yes,
I do…….
I just get over myself
wash my **** face
and step out into the day



try it –

he spit the little baggy from his mouth to his hand
I took the prize and dropped it right into my own mouth...
turning to leave the filth of the lower Burnside Bridge,
as I walked away I developed a plan;
I would take my little baggy a few blocks down south,
spit the prize back into my hand, and start to cook...
place the little baggy delicately into a syringe

spit drooled from my mouth as my prize took