There's a stench in the air
    that you can't stop smelling.
    We live in squalor with rats
    for pets and corpses bloated.
    Social workers come round
    to count living and dead
    and promise more help but
    just give us maggot bread.
    The swells attend fundraisers
    in latest styles dressed to ****
    feast on caviar and champagne
    while my dying child goes stiff.

He reminds me of me at 10
  best of intentions and trust
  a world that hasn't had time
  to **** a spirit and hope yet
  I'm not that cynical. I'm 72
  still love women at a distance
  and dream young boy dreams
  where we dance all night in
  7th grade with dark beautys'
  desires I never understood.

He lost his mind as mirrors shatter
   in the dark the puzzle pieces scatter.
   The pain rains in angry fury again
   no more chance of love freely given.
   Rainbows fade. The floodwaters recede.
   He seethes and hates his pathetic need.

He reminds me of me at 10
  best of intentions and trust
  a world that hasn't had time
  to **** a spirit and hope yet
  I'm not that cynical. I'm 72
  still love women at a distance
  and dream young boy dreams
  where we dance all night in
  7th grade with dark beauty's
  desires I never understood.

We're open wounds that
refuse to heal again
stubborn stains won't
be forgotten any more
just dice from a womb
a game of Chance and
Charli place your bets
hopscotch over and over
black or red even or odd
feeling lucky? Just nod.

You and I aren't that different.
  I'm insecure and missed love's touch
  fighting ghost's dying while I dream.
  Am I breaking my own heart as such?
  I'll be your dancing monkey if you want.
  I promise you I will break every mirror
  too honest with your reflection as it is
  hovering near your worst nightmare fear.

We live and we change,
some easy some strange.
I can't rhyme it tonight
maybe tomorrow's light?
Maybe there's no rhyme
or reason the last time.

I lost you in my chaos
an indifferent attitude
I've felt the sacred loss
inside the tiny solitude
I look for you everyday
in the out of way places
we always seemed to stay
searching all the  faces.

I lost you in my chaos
some hurricane attitude.
I've felt the sacred loss
inside painful solitude.
I look for you everyday
in the out of way places
we always seemed to stay
searching all our spaces.
Always holding hands
just smelling your hair
dream of wedding bands
We haven't got a care.

Act I and II are powerful
I never have an Act III.
Love always turns awful.
I have no choice but flee.

I lost you in my chaos
some hurricane attitude.
I've felt the sacred loss
inside painful solitude.
I look for you everyday
in the out of way places
we always seemed to stay
searching all our spaces.

Did I find you in debris?
Chaotic love set us free.
We bought a leaky boat
our love keeps us afloat.

It helps me color inside the lines.
   I paint soft green landscapes instead
   of red hot flames in catholic hell.
   My glass is full of Christ's blood
   that I drink to dream in poet sleep.
   I'll pay my tab in tomorrow's light.

I've read some brilliant poetry on restroom walls.
Where the smell is rough and **** on the floors.
Charles Bukowski was in the stall next door I think.
He snored and farted and died in there for all I know.

Where the slaves were auctioned is
      a market selling trinkets to fools
      who don't understand why the black
      man who carries their bags to their
      rooms won't look them in the eye and
      thanks them for the tip and dismissal.

I was young and lost. I was
unable to keep up when he
went in the bank. I saw him
leaving across the street and
ran after him and a car hit me
and broke my heart and leg.
He was the god I disappointed.
He was the man I kept chasing.

You lovely creature hairy and
too eager to jump on me barely
in the front door. I've never been
loved this much my whole life.
Do you mind if I lie with you
as you die in the soft grass and
sunlight and remember chasing
tennis ***** in your dreams?

Cheap wine and cigarettes
    classical music on a tinny
    sounding radio in a garret
    writing poetry to other
    lost souls in Boston and
    Southie and Sommerville
    and anyone who ever lit
    a candle for lost souls.

    We poets die each night.
    Our poems are lost in waves
    of cheap wine as we surrender
    to night's promises of a better
    tomorrow. Another chance to grab
    the brass ring on wooden horses.

    We wake with scraps of paper
    bearing witness to last nights
    binge of accidental brilliance.
    We stitch them back together
    best we can and offer them as
  poetry to anyone who cares.

I have no time to listen
to your supposition
of the conversation
of your observation
when you found her ****
swimming in an attitude
she thought it amusing
and started refusing
to name her admirer
who set her on fire.

Chelsea Hotel

Addicted to your taste
your crazy waste
self inflicted pain
to your flesh stain
I gladly confess
squalor's mess
rats scurry
in a hurry
to nowhere
already there
mirror over bed
you giving head
come again
love the sin
tip the maid
don't be afraid
Janis won't care
lay her truth bare.

You spoke above the music
I heard you as I sat in a corner
You shifted my chemistry and I
was in love with you forever.

When your demons win you live in filth
    in ugly memories just beneath eyeballs.
    It's a hall of mirrors truths are blurred
    and all I see are lies. Keep me holding on.
    We stretch light. We slow time. We fill our
    veins with science and always keep waiting
    for redemption. It never comes. Last chance
    one more shot this will hit the top. Wait.

We're game pieces on a chess board.
We might be peasants or knights or pawns.
We play our roles in turns and win some,
lose some and never know true love at all.
I begin to understand the cruelty of our
history where we live our fragile lives.

I slipped through a wormhole
born of this time and place
naked ruined fists raised for
yes or no or maybe I found
the breast and suckled 'til
I sought my mother for my
wife 'til death and died easy
I know life's best left drugged.

Hank Kissinger was a cruel kid
who grew up into a psychopath
complete with his patent bid
to destroy filthy needy trash
all dead in his nuclear bath.

Butcher of the poor in black hoods.
  The projects destroy futures for most.
  Stacker of bodies, stormy, brawling, cruel.
  City of bully's with big shoulders.
  They say you are wicked and I know.
  You are fierce as a mad dog foaming
  through white teeth, tongue lapping,
  laughing as a young man laughs
  under the terrible burden of living.
  He cries stunned as his blood spills.

Butcher of the poor in black hoods.
  The projects destroy futures for most.
  Stacker of bodies, stormy, brawling, cruel.
  City of bully's with big shoulders.
  They say you are wicked and I know.
  You are fierce as a mad dog foaming
  through white teeth, tongue lapping,
  laughing as a young man laughs
  under the terrible burden of living.
  He cries stunned as his blood spills.

She froze me in her desire.
Burned heart cracks in fire
near the windy wicked lake
where everyone will break
walking on the empty shore
stiff, always wanting more.

Pain stain strain insane refrain
  You sacrificed your body beautiful
  for this precious life of our love
  this is how you hide the pain now
  baggy dress and wine at noon and
  sleeping alone inside yourself again.

You glowed at first then sweat
  your body beautiful now a regret
  for this ******* life of my squirt
  this is how you hide the hurt
  baggy dresses and wine at noon
  sleeping alone inside your room.

Adults

  Keep the awful truths from
  the children. Hide them behind
  a velvet curtain and sing sweet
  songs of innocence 'til daylight.

           Children

  We eavesdrop from the stair top
  hearing the adults in their cups
  spilling the beans on every ****
  thing we are "too frail" to know.

We lived through all the fairy tales
God, Santa, Tooth fairy, Christ arrives
from Kansas on the Yellow Brick Road
it's a miracle this tale still survives.

Childhood is magic but it has an ending
die into adulthood pay bills, take pills,
wed a *****, **** pinky swears and vows.
It never lasts forever the childhood ills.

We lived through all the fairy tales
God, Santa, Tooth fairy, Christ arrives
from Kansas on the Yellow Brick Road
it's a miracle this tale still survives.

Childhood is magic but it has an ending
die into adulthood pay bills, take pills,
wed a *****, ****, pinky swears and vows.
Nothing lasts forever the childhood thrills.

Unwashed masses
clean our ashes
chimney chimps
blackened pimps
soot stained child
dies in the wild

Man created God in his image
to explain how we landed here
on this perfect human stage
our sun will burn out some year.
Everyone has the perfect God
now only made by China's slave
labor keeps us safe in our cars
land of the free and the brave.

I looked my one eye cat
in her lonely eye and
saw a trace of cancer
like sharks in water
like slicks of ink
licking hungry lips
as buzzards might.
I beg no more death.

I've been on your cross
nailed impaled beaten
I never felt your loss
you in my mouth eaten.

You hang on your cross in my bedroom
reminding me of your suffering and I
feel guilty for the 40 lashes and the rest.
I'll pry nails from your hands and root
for You to rise from death magician like
to blow us away and hang dying on walls.

I live in a Church
soul kept in a jar
I stop Jesus search
found him on a bar
stool next to mine
we talked of fate
society's decline
everybody's hate.

like a ***** the metaphor
keeps giving it out on, on
I did my best to live. I failed.
The fourth, the fifth,
the minor fall, the major lift.
Hallelujah. Midnight Mass choir
lifts me to tears of joy as he's
born to a ****** in an angry mob.

Christ don't live in churches.    
    He lives in the slums and prisons,
    grungy dive bars and crack houses.
    He offers hope to the hopeless
    and direction to the lost souls.  
    Christ doesn't sleep in church pews
    he sleeps on park benches and grates.
    his blood is cheap wine communion
    on city streets his body stale bread
    from the soup kitchens for the poor.
    He lives where he's most needed;
    then and there and here and now.

Christmas time
decorate pine
eggnog strong
Christmas song
It's a Wonderful Life
put away the knife
drink another scotch
goose Honey's crotch
she loves that
wear Santa hat
feed the fire
forget desire
kids are there
so unfair
lights blink
can't think
curse my *****
presents burn.
In hotel
Xmas hell.

Death is Under the Tree

Another week another cancer
for friends to battle best they can
or die the best they can't. It's ugly.
It will come for us all in time.
It comes out of left field. It creeps
into you quiet as a Christmas mouse.
Holidays are tucked away in a
hospital bed and Hospice care.
Death is under the tree
wrapped in tissue wet with tears

Santa comes overnight and leaves stuff.
Sleep. Dream of toys and candy canes.
Tomorrow never seems to come.
We barely sleep and meet at 4 am.
We kids gather at the top of the stair to strategize.
5 am we send a soldier to wake mom and dad.
They are defeated and beg for 10 minutes.
In 20 minutes the living room has erupted
in Xmas. Wrapping paper and ribbons
have adorned this happy home.
It's as close to perfect we'll know.
Outside the window falls the snow.

4 am we kids are on the stairs
eager to see our bounty in the
living room. We've waited all
year and we might explode if
Mom and Dad don't let us see.
I'll die for your secret garden
an entrance into Eden at last.
In tall grass we surrender our
precious virginity and create
our **** all your rules child.
We loved in a snow globe and
there's a Christ child waiting.

4 am we kids are on the stairs
eager to see our bounty in the
living room. We've waited all
year and we might explode if
Mom and Dad don't let us see.
I'll die for your secret garden
an entrance into Eden at last.
In tall grass we surrender our
precious innocence and create
our **** all your rules child.
We loved in a snow globe and
there's a Christ child waiting.

Nat King Cole, Sinatra,
Aluminum Christmas tree
lit by a color wheel's turns.
Too many sweets sick as can be.

Christmas time at Grandpa's
***** wife we called Mary.
Next year he dropped dead.
Funeral and then buried.

Mike and I kept him alive
voice recorded, blood stains
on a hanky, we found your
dentures, we your creations.

She said, Sobriety is bliss.
I said, At best it'***** or miss.
Confess your sins of neglect
don't forget to genuflect
get your sponsor's signature
for court ordered overture.
What drags you back to a bar?
You barely move, gone so far.
I'm just in a legal time out
'til bell dings drunk and shout.

She said, Sobriety is bliss.
I said, At best it'***** or miss.
Confess your sins of neglect
don't forget to genuflect
get your sponsor's signature
for court ordered overture.
What drags you back to a bar?
You barely move, gone so far.

Poets can't keep secrets. We're poets.
     We must express emotion no matter
     truth or consequence. We spill tears.
     We pen silent trembles in spatters
     scratch blame upon the pages like
     ancient scribes with prayers to rain
     upon unwashed masses and baptize
     you into the church of gracious pain.

Poets can't keep secrets. We're poets.
     We must express emotion no matter the
     truth or consequence. We spill tears.
     We ask for your heart and soul. We
     scratch blame upon a page like
     ancient scribes with prayers to rain
     upon the unwashed masses and baptize
     you into the church of gracious poets.