California Kids

I’ll call you up on Saturday
And invite you over.
Take the 101, 110 and 1;
(Sounds like an equation!)
And you’re there.
Just use your GPS..
There’ll be a party at my house,
Daft Punk playing on the Echo.
It’ll be epic, Echoic!
With some vintage’ tunes,
Crankin’ the Beach Boys,
Watching surfers
Shredding out-the-back,
Past prowling sharks in the shallows.
Lets go to the dunes and maybe kiss.
I know that you miss me,
So don’t ask me why
And when you come,
I won’t ask
“What are you doing here?”
We’ll eat fish tacos,
Guacamole, Pico de Gallo
And drink margaritas
While we debate French new wave,
I’ll praise Truffaut while you
Tell me that Scorsese is the man.
When we get drunk enough
I will suggest a walk
Along the iridescent surf.
You should say yes because
I’m safe now that I drive electric,
That I turned vegan
(sorry about the fish)
and wear cruelty-free clothes.
I don’t grill snapper anymore
And take my shoes off inside the door.
Maybe we’ll make it to Tower 28,
Lay down and watch the full moon
Like Jim Morrison did to write.
I’ll tell you I’m glad you’re alive—
I’m no poet, but you know that.

Push into my concave
Ripple off your hollow skull
Never met a fond slave
Lookin through a swallow hull

File down for plaster
Skinning clean your mended bone
Bringin down the rafters
Furnace of a heavy home

Call a little blow away to rock yourself to sleep
Soil over forty fay and sow just what you reap

**** the seed of prosper
Four entangled righteous ****
More than you could foster
Still, you might be over hill

Sonny won't you crawl away to somewhen I've not found
Crankin down the bank shaft cause its rollin rollin round
Caught another big one in a dental floss noose
Sell em to the butcher maybe he can get some use

8th avenue ***
**** out on ground crankin one
Thanks de Blasio

Hey there hott stuff why don't ya bust
out that saxophone and play some serious
New Orleans Blues while I drink a beer and
try to calm the **** down before I start crankin
out some seriously ungodly **** that I'm possibly
going to regret in the morning.

And then it hits me that I'm having a
Bukowski moment and maybe
even channeling the spirit of that St. Paul
of new age seekers and left out hippies
shooting up in broke down cars while
holding some sort've seance for he, Jim Morrison.

Or it could've just been a convenient excuse
to get a sad lonely hipster high and
**** her brains out since she was looking
for something that mattered and happened
to find your crooked *** and a **** begrimed needle.

So don't ask me why I take concepts half baked
such as just go with the flow and all things
go according to the will of the universe
and rub my perfectly shaped **** all over them
since 9 out of 10 it's an excuse for terrible
**** that people do to each other in the name of
great grandpa experience for experience's sake.

I'll laugh in the face of people who ***** platitudes
and I'll teach their cats to **** on their
newspapers in the morning just for the
pure naked mischief of it.

There are so many lives out there in the big blue
world full of so many hopes and dreams and
loves and hates and memories and futures
that no one, any where, has the right or the authority
to infringe upon for any reason especially
that golden calf of fearful worship
the supposed Great Scapegoat of the Greater Good.

So come along with me and my people,
we who do not bow, we who do not submit,
we who wake up in the morning filled with
a burning insatiable need to take our world
by the PMC encrusted ***** and make something new.

I used to think I was the toughest
guy on the planet.
I was invincible.
Nothing could stop my risky ways.
I was going to climb it,
fight it, slam it,
love it any
way I could.

And that's how I played it,
***** to the wall,
full tilt boogie,
crankin' it up to the max,
all the time.

Oh yeah, I did find success,
I found trouble too.
I've eaten humble pie,
cried myself to sleep,
spent thousands on big mistakes
on more than one occasion.

Traffic tickets,
scars & broken hearts
seemed my mantra.
Those things have
taught my *******
that stupid ****
can't last forever.

I'm on my way back from the abysses.

conditioning expectation of homeless crimes
sunday's no bus service or funds for transit
los angeles is not this way
must walk to church gutter and be denied entry into frame of church


no probation still this is the policy of budget

alexandria?

barack?

this is literate to you both?

the electronic management system of homeless information?

the viability of death metrics?

check mate

this already went to press

im the journalist

your the choice of illiterate

the exposure to elements and deranged people with advantageous
means to measure us into corners, that is some harsh coping skills
when living out of a body bag

protest what? the sag?  the people in cars?

its whatever comes at you, you deal with and back into the body bag

so today, this morning a guy exposed himself
i immediately reported him
i have no comment for the ill people whom will seek to create more words investigating the sunshine loss of medicine upon me......

this is the non profits admins approach to justification of allowance.....

these are high crimes, defined in war crimes tribunals

then ali calls said we going to war
gotta sign up then its hit
cant process writ
this the mandate
born in a military
my escapes a route
travels in ink, thats the tour
of my confessions
telling y'all came out of texas
now the graves, of providence
don't call me roads, the west points
a profession

this the 451st reason you full of doubts
my procurements, stix like flix
no drums, waters flakes to mis trials
tribunal, no becka, love ya becka r
she rates like loves a sista's jew

im civil affairs, hook aint up
down to the bart
violations, civil rights lines
wecome to brewster poets
no pennie, all loafers
kick it, on my so fought in dials

im reps full of colonia, elbows up

hangle aint lied out loud
ventura avenue gangsters
give me new york

tattle end battle, irish **** rattle
tuck it up im air force in
chin dent checks
refered once prison all meat
holsters end badge
cant catch weeks, all budget penny taped deck tap

staunch, preperation, hissed at dat tia
tio no compensario's
muerta's in the kerchief
that a flip down at the seems
santa clara, my rivers a mount,mount, mouth

suffer, mount mount calle lil calmate


more defiant than a compliant shelf
check bookin
cry lil sister, lost boys, west side night owls

grit like blisters your fame'ing
no *69 its you dew up states crankin hemi's

d.o.c anti up badgers the kleenex