Seven sit around a fire,
burnt marshmallows on two foot sticks
stuck between grahams,
talk *** and film.

Had her naked like Kate Winslet,
not Titanic Kate,
but Little Children Kate.
**** on the washing machine
behind Jennifer Connelly's back.

But the part about Madame Bovary,
who really needs feminist literature in a feminist film?
Okay, maybe it's classic romantic...

I felt lost like a pebble
sinking in the ocean
five miles deep
in the Puerto Rican trench.
I hadn't seen either movie
nor was I well versed
in feminism or romance.

My mind drifted to my first time.
Started with a french kiss
from a Latina girl,
at a house on Cleveland Ave,
I wish I could remember more.

There is a veil,
with no eyes and no ears.
It sets like a stone,
between love and its fears.

Totally unfleeting,
no laughs and no jeers.
To be ever-present,
for all of man's years.

Truly diseased;
synaptic in nature.
Stumble the footwork
and words of thy taker.

Creates blindness,
no sense.
Through silky folds,
made too dense.

There is a veil,
with no eyes and no ears,
but somehow it hears
and it sees all its fears.

It tears all but once,
before, never again,
will it restitch its wounds,
only gasping as wind.

*Collaboration, William Connelly.

I grew up as a poor white kid
Soul stations were the best I heard!
I flipped my lid! I was 12 despised high school military nerds!

My friends laughed at my musical taste
Memphis east tupelo James Brown
Even Elvis above the waist?

The Supremes Arthur Connelly Wilson wicked picket made me wanna dance!
Old school radio 1960's still the best.
Back then before civil unrest...

Lets get drug dealers off our backs!

Who can tell when you first open yours eyes what the day holds for you.
Open your eyes brush your teeth plan your day, is your day going to be a day in the life like Harold Crick the guy from Stranger than Fiction or Phil Conners the weather guy from Groundhog Day or perhaps a little of both.
I used to find ground hog day funny now I’m not so sure.
Life is bad enough sometimes without it repeating itself until we get it right and resolve the issues that make us a person other people talk about in less than complimentary tones behind our back.
However Harold Crick, (google it if you don’t know this guy) perhaps got it right accepting his fate eventually with grace as he felt his ending was poetic and just; if only we could all be so lucky to know our fate in advance and accept that all our lives end and we need to accept it.
As with Harold, by accepting the inevitable does that give us a chance for our ending to take another path not of our or anyone else’s choosing but simply a random series of events that makes things turn out the way they turn out and it is as simple as that.
Some may say life is not like the movies or soap operas. But where do you think the writers get there ideas from. If you look at comedy writers, some of the universally funny comedians such as Billy Connelly or Jerry Seinfeld take their humour from real life.
The writers of Groundhog Day must have at some stage thought what if you couldn’t move on to the next day until you got it right and then wrote the script. As Bill Murray’s character said in Groundhog Day, “I was in the ****** Islands once. I met a girl. We ate lobster, drank piña coladas. At sunset, we made love like sea otters. That was a pretty good day. Why couldn't I get that day over, and over, and over... Well Bill, life’s like that, we don’t get to choose, and that’s not funny.

It’s time for me to leave this place
But then you walk in with glasses and curls
(At least that’s how I remember you)
And me, too inebriated to remember but I remember talking to you about poems and liquor licenses and a request for return but only when I could be present
I thought you were cute but never said and would’ve never said
But C’est la vie
Such is life
You can’t go back to that party again

In the woods I am distracted until I make eye contact with a deer
You are probably 8 feet from the trail just laying there and all of your herd are there with you scattered around the foliage
I talk to you
You do not talk back
But in my heart I wish you did I wish we could have a connection that no other human can make I so much want to be a part of nature apart from all the things that make me human the things that tell me to consume without feeling to be forever without feeling to love for the sake of making the next generations work force to eat so that big corporation bosses can pocket the money to buy buy buy until the planet is dead and the rich ***** like Elon musk are living among the stars
But C’est la vie
Such is life
You can’t win this fight on your own

And so here I sit
11:54
Still kinda drunk
Writing this poem for the next time I can read it
Read it for you cute girl at a party
Read it for you revolutionary soul disillusioned by the Spectacle of it all
Read it for me drunken poet who begs himself each night to write but whose life is so serious so serious with State and Revolution and Lenin and Bookchin and Stirner and Ocalan and can I be vulnerable?
Can I love again like I did in high school with the one girl and the one girl only?
Can my heart blaze in the fires of Lenin and Bookchin?
Ocalan, Stirner, Connelly and Mao?
Or is it simply time for me to sleep?
C’est la vie
Such is life
Maybe I’ll convince myself I’m home

I was told you can’t go home again
But a wise man once said to me
“If home is where the heart is
Then I live in my upper chest”