#lou
We put our
problems in a bottle,
sank it and
said a prayer..
then hammered
down the throttle
and threw our hands
to the open air..
The evening sky
especially beautiful -
It's sun bursting
through cloudy skies
And still, it was
barely suitable
to reflect those
bluest eyes..
Then we tore through
sparkling water -
Blonde curls dancin'
in the summer wind
Just a worn out dad
and his daughter
who might not come
this way again..
But today the water
welcomes us..
promising to drown
our sorrow..
And perhaps,
the Good Lord helpin' us,
we'll do it all
again tomorrow..
Aug 21, 2022
Aug 21, 2022 at 12:38 AM UTC
I'm getting goosebumps thinking
about my coney Island baby,
we're going to the boardwalk
and listen to some Rock and Roll.
If I'm blessed by the warped
east coast gods, I'll run into
Sweet Jane and score
some ****** the click that
makes this hell alright.
with a dime bag, this madness
becomes a perfect world.
This should be quite the Walk on the
Wild Side.
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 12:58 PM UTC
rest of title...Parkland, Fla.,February 14, 2018
One more senseless mass homicide
twas the sole arbitrary aim
as a former student nonchalantly
sauntered empty hallways
seconds preceding blame
brazenly intent to maximize total killed
matter of factly telling police
(his incomprehensible)
(ill) logic he did explain
when cornered, he willingly,
unflinchingly, reticently admitted guilt
Nikolas Cruz rocketed
to instantaneous infamous fame
pulling a fire alarm
("FAKE") emergency,
then going leisurely ambling
along his killing spree
total of seventeen slain (comprising 3 faculty
and 14 students)
mercilessly gunned down
as if they were wild game
when handcuffed, an innocuous
19 year old did readily admit
emptying one firearm after another
at a fairly rapid clip
then at some predestined
or spurious moment didst dip
and dive out amidst
the chaotic madding crowd
before reality flopped then did flip
as lower teeth he nervously bit upper lip
made feeble getaway
at a nearby eatery casually flirted
with cashier and made no move to flit
upon his seizure as cornered prey
subsequently large tract
massively cordoned off
strong arm of the law
slightly halting in speech
detailed his gambit
deliberately staking
a stance to maximize hit
and once again afflicted parents lit
up with rancor and rage pit
toughly battling sorrow
which will not quit
til death doth bring peaceful rest
sans, those grieving family visit.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
You left
a white lighter
on your coffee table
so that when
we'd go back
to collect your things
from a crime scene
we had been to
countless times,
we'd know that
you died
thinking yourself
a King of Rock and Roll.
But really
you were
the prince
heir to
all the love
dad had to give,
bestowed upon
year after year
with the kind of too much faith
that only
parents
can give.
You heard
their lessons
about the world
being your oyster
but never payed
attention
to how to care
for
your
people.
You were
always
about the show,
You'd give all
the glitz
and glamour
off of your very own crown
thinking that
if love didn't sparkle
people wouldn't know it was
there.
But then
someone gave you
purple-hazed glasses
and suddenly
the world was
love in your pupils,
they flooded
your irises
with a shine
to which no amount of
family jewels
could compare.
Your eyes
had seen
radiance
and all you had
to go back to
was flaw
you saw
a life
that was hard
and surprisingly heavy
for being so
empty,
And you just
kept chasing
the smooth blues
that would never hurt your ears
or play you
the old song
of wasted potential.
Even as you wandered
popping and
repopping your ears,
our love was
dull to your
rock and roll lifestyle.
I know how much
you missed how it
was before
you got discovered by it,
eager and seething
to sink its hooks
into another good one.
Instead of
writing your own
song,
you faded
into the old
one.
And now,
I've lost word and
lyric,
melody is
ash
in my pen
because the music
wasn't in me,
dude,
it was in you.
And now the record
keeps playing
through the air,
but none
of us
want to hear it.
When you went,
you left us with
a ****** white lighter
and you took the music with you.
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 12:37 AM UTC
We sit down
At the Bar
You remark on
My posture
We order
Your favorite
Jack and
Coke
We sling
Them back
Double Shots
Burning my belly
Your eyes fill
With disbelief
I can see
The photographs flash
In front of
You
School Pictures
Prom Photos
Graduation
Shots
All Stacked up
Underneath this very
Bar-
Stool
My eyes roll
Away from sentimentality
Laughing it
Off
I order
Two more
I can hear you
Tell me to
Slow
Down
As if
Recorded into
A Broken
Record
Even now
I’m still
Your Baby
Sister
As My
Vision Doubles
Your Smile
Remains
As One
Though
your voice
Seems to grow
Faint
My throat begins
To burn
Feeling myself
Crying out
Over a space
Much more vast
Than the distance
Between
Our two
Barstools
Before I misplace
Myself Completely
You
Catch me
Your other Half
Your little twin
I will
Not be
Doubled
Over
We are
Celebrating
This
Birthday
As I blink
To see you
Through
My blear
I see you
Preparing
To
go
Mirroring my moves
To put me at ease
But your
Cheeks
Have lost
Dimension
Your color
No longer
Changes in
The light
You pull your
Hands away
Not wanting to
Make me
Cold
Insisting I’m
Warm
My clammy
Palms
Push
Forward
Just in
Time
To
Catch
That
Paper
Wafting
Down
I ****** it
Up
Staring at
Your smile
That always
Did
Photograph
Well
Flipping it
Over
I tried to
Remember
When you had
Signed
This photo
You could never
Have known
About
I refuse
The answer
Wary of the lies
You will believe
When you
Split drinks
With A Memory.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 12:10 PM UTC
They say grieving is different for everyone,
But they can never truthfully explain how.
It was not until my south star exploded
That I could understand how many constellations would be ruined
Like the godmother who would forever spend Saint Patrick's day drinking in memory of both nephew and mother;
Like the little brother who was forced to become the oldest;
Like the uncle who shuddered at seeing his own son's demise too clearly;
Like the step-mother who would hate herself for being right all along;
Like the friend who would cut up his life with the same murderous knife;
Like the father now blinded from the absence of the son's light;
And like the sister who was forced to break the promise of future reconciliation.
None of them could understand how the planets had aligned this way,
And none of them could find their former orbit,
But rather, would follow the path of the star dust left behind
Flinching at it as if it were glass,
Embracing the sting
Because it is all that is left
Of the brightest star in their sky.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 3:00 AM UTC
Bowie
left town
blasting off
from a
Lafayette
rooftop
his ***
spewing
a rainbow arc
liberally
sprinkling
Gluten-free
golden glitter
onto chichi
Houston Street
bistros
liberating a
fawning glitterati
eager to prance
about a
shanghaied
High Line
for a
NY second
the best dressed
homeless dude
in NoHo
spotted a
Pale Duke
apparition
fluttering over
a posse of
faux
figurine
graffiti
splashed across a
Banksyless wall
tagging the
sunny side
of the finest
neighborhood
car wash
a ghostly
Lou Reed
dressed to the nines
in sleek
Transformer drag
watched
chuckling,
scratching his *****
humming
the final bars of
an Eno
inspired
Perfect Day,
marking odds
when a
long overdue
Iggy Pop
will crash the
Pearly Gate
mosh pits
Ubering
through
the choppy seas
of urban sludge,
lightning bolts
streak down
the sullen faces
of cash strapped
honey dippin
lust for life
hipsters,
luxuriating in
a well nursed
millennial
angst
stew
Fun City's
frenzied
bare footin
Little Monster
darlings
imprisoned
in soulless
high-rises,
still a
quarter shy
from annual
bonus time,
pace
white
stained
minimalist
spaces
indulging
notions
driven
by economic
compulsion
to dial up
flush with cash
fund managers
to seek
margin loans
on their
large positions
in alpha rich
distressed
asset funds
while their
diamond collared
Schnauzers
wait outside
the corner
State News
licking the
oozing sores
encrusting
Lazarus's
feet
Ziggy's
lapping tongue
marks time,
waiting for
the stretchy
panted painted
ladies scoring
Iman's
organic rouge
at a corner
bodega
listening to
a sidewalk
trash can
yelp today's
Daily News
headline
"Major Tom
Myna Hero!"
bekighting the next
15 minute legend
a talking
Myna bird
named
Major Tom
the vigilant
Major
alerted occupants
of a Brooklyn
townhouse of
a furnace leaking
carbon monoxide
when he stopped talking
and dropped dead
a veritable canary
in a coal mine story
a special service
marking
Major Tom's
supreme sacrifice
is planned,
in the spirit of
neighborhood
beatification
the family
implores those
wishing to express
condolences
in lieu of flowers
to please occupy
Prospect Park
to drive out
the rapacious
squeegee men
and feed the
hungry pigeons
Bowie's earthly star
may have gone black
but the ashes of his
disembodied voice
will forever
mark the city
like the
ubiquitous
gray splot
ashes of
pigeon
guano
David Robert Jones
1.8.47 - 1.10.16
Well Done Beloved
God Bless and Godspeed
Music Selections:
David Bowie, Dollar Days
David Bowie, I Can't Give Everything Away
David Bowie, Black Star
Jazz Messengers, Wayne Shorter
Lester Left Town
1.17.16
NYC
jbm
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 1:15 PM UTC
Give me a chance to prove to you
Do anything that please you
To make you smile wide and bright
As if you were saying cheese
I'm ready to do everything
To reverse what I have done
For I need that guy back
Who used to laugh and had fun
So please forgive Hon
For you are my only sun
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
Once passed
Always alive
You Lou
Have me hypnotized.
Not a word
I have heard
Sounds more real
Than the ones
you've told
I too,
Have been
"Waiting
For the man."
Head up Lexington
And start lookin'
For a dear
Dear friend
Of mine;
But mostly
For that one,
Quick, fix.
Soon after
****** hits
And I too
Am dosed,
I - don't - know.
My only
Wonder now is
If a smack
Syringe can be
As good as
It sounds at
This moment
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 12:08 AM UTC