briano alliano performs on venus party trap




you see welcome to the trap and i had a great night at the poetry slam

where i met this man who said m6y poem was great, well, he liked it

in fact when i didn’t win it, he wanted to heckle the organisers, well, it was

fun, but i like the organisers too, but this man realiy believed in me, ya know

especially when i told him i am putting art in an exhibition

here is my first song, the poem i read at the poetry slam ,here goes

jingle bells oh buddy jingle bells

it’s christmas in july

the party is on for young and old

and presents to make us happy

jingle bells oh buddy jingle bells

it’s christmas in july

party on till next week, man

yeah, celebrate christmas in july

dashing thru the cold canberra winters day

you see i think my reindeers are in hibernation today

because the air is very cold, and it’s a great day to say

merry christmas my good friends in the month of july

jingle bells oh buddy it’s jingle bells

it’s christmas in july

the party is on for young and old

bring out the warm eggnog

and put up the christmas tree, and have santa on a stick

then you get those lollypops, and give ‘em an almighty lick

and give ‘em an almighty lick, my mate

ya see last night at the poetry slam, this bloke said i really sang the last bit with a lot of guts

and determination, and now as i left last night i saw a fight taking place, and i knew if i don’t stare

everything will be alright, and now here is my next song

i am tired, but i can’t sleep, i need to have a siesta, yeah mate yeah

i need to relax and enjoy my life, and have a soft drink yeah mate yeah

carn the swans carn the raiders carn the packers, like that man last night spoke to me for

yeah mate yeah, and now time for, here is my next song, loving friends and loving family


You see when I was young and I always was trying to be cool
I had a family who tried to stop myself from being cool, and I was
So fristrated with that, I said, no I am cool, but I wssn't cool, I wanted
To laugh at everybody and I laughed so loud that my psrents were telling me
To quiten down and this made me angry, you see I got violent and I started to rant
And rave and it took me over a long time to understand that they were treating me
Like a cool kid, but I was young and stupid and it seems like they were teasing me
And giving me a hard time, and i also said that I wanted to be cool and always go out having a good time and getting ****** as a parrot, you see, my voices were putting those thoughts
Right in my head, giving me a lot of problems, making me very very sick of being in this crazy situation, and I am glad I have this amazing loving family and good friends, to help me through any kind of situation.
You see when I try and muck with my father like a mans kid, my brother would say, don't muck with him, he's not like us, don't much with him, no he is not a young dude. Be like us, and be a young dude and be a little shy boy, you try and be oool every day, and you try and give stay up all night while everybody else is going to bed, so you can go, hey to him, but the thing about it is, that it is the fact that he is living in the past.
So then my loving family and loving friends made me feel better about how much I wanted to
Move on and live life to the fullest, you see he will laugh like a man should and then say, heh heh heh heh , i am a cool boy, I am not a little shy boy, I sit up all night, I don't go to bed, you see I am superior, but my mates call me a complete loser.
Because this man is a total and absolute ******, and it makes me absolutely crazy, and this drives me crazy, you know very crazy, but I always call it a loving family and loving friends, I don't need these friends who only like me because I sit underneath them.



here is my next song, titled mashed potato finger nail at the skate park, here goes

You see Jacki Fred Harold Stone was a very cool young dude
You see instead of going to bed with all the other kids
He wanted to go to the skate park and ride the skateboards
With his best mates down there, and it was a very weird effect
You see his fingers smelt like mashed potato and all his mates went home
And they said he was a little shy boy, and Jacki Fred Harold Stone said
I am not a little shy boy, I am a cool boy, who loves to skate
And when I have a rest the mashed potato finger nails come again
To inspire me to keep being cool here at the skate park
You see I did some very awesome tricks, and I had so much fun
But I still smelt my mashed potato finger nails, it was driving me wild
I told all the people at the skate park and they said, your not shy
In fact your the coolest dude out of your family, and none of us want you to leave
I don't care if you used to get teased by everyone at your school
And I don't care if your family teaeed you as well
You see Jacki, I think your cool, and I will never tease you, not ever
I want to sell you drugs, but you don't have to take them
Because your the boy with the mashed potato finger nails
And we'll never ever tease you, we want to be your friend
And we want nothing more than that
So come on Jacki Fred Harold Stone, show us how to skate
You see my name is Jason Lee, and this is my mate Tristan
And we'll be your only friends you will never tease you
Cause at least you come here and ride your skateboard like a cool dude
And after your finished you stay with us and have a joke around
Despite of the times you tell us, your cool, we still have problems with this deal
You see, you are the kid who has mashed potato finger nails
And I don't care at all, your like us, Jacki, your cool, and your fingers smell like a good
Dose of mashed potato, which means your very cool
here is my next song, titled as much fun as it sounds, here at the trap

You see Jacki Fred Harold Stone was a very cool young dude
You see instead of going to bed with all the other kids
He wanted to go to the skate park and ride the skateboards
With his best mates down there, and it was a very weird effect
You see his fingers smelt like mashed potato and all his mates went home
And they said he was a little shy boy, and Jacki Fred Harold Stone said
I am not a little shy boy, I am a cool boy, who loves to skate
And when I have a rest the mashed potato finger nails come again
To inspire me to keep being cool here at the skate park
You see I did some very awesome tricks, and I had so much fun
But I still smelt my mashed potato finger nails, it was driving me wild
I told all the people at the skate park and they said, your not shy
In fact your the coolest dude out of your family, and none of us want you to leave
I don't care if you used to get teased by everyone at your school
And I don't care if your family teaeed you as well
You see Jacki, I think your cool, and I will never tease you, not ever
I want to sell you drugs, but you don't have to take them
Because your the boy with the mashed potato finger nails
And we'll never ever tease you, we want to be your friend
And we want nothing more than that
So come on Jacki Fred Harold Stone, show us how to skate
You see my name is Jason Lee, and this is my mate Tristan
And we'll be your only friends you will never tease you
Cause at least you come here and ride your skateboard like a cool dude
And after your finished you stay with us and have a joke around
Despite of the times you tell us, your cool, we still have problems with this deal
You see, you are the kid who has mashed potato finger nails
And I don't care at all, your like us, Jacki, your cool, and your fingers smell like a good
Dose of mashed potato, which means your very cool
as much fun as it sounds to heckle, i still remember the american dude, but this man last night was a cool dude, buddy, cool man sam


and have you ever been a cool kid to your dad, and had people laugh at you, i felt that last night when i didn’t join in the heckle, but that man

was nice to me, saying he admires me, but i am not gay, i am bradley simmons

Bradley lived in Cowra with his mum and dad and brother Kenneth, and Kenneth was a real mans kid who plays with his friends in the street and then he goes home to watch Disneyland with his dad, and he mainly liked to watch westerns, while Bradley was certain that there is something going on in the air, and went to church with his mum.
You see this wasn't really tbe best family unit, especially when families go out to fun family events, but Bradley and Kenneth's dad was a director at kids town, which is a Buddhist drop in centre, who looke after the daily needs of under fortunate kids, and Bradley and Kenneth were told to come into these centers, when their dad organised some games to brighten their spirits, one game was spin the Buddha, where you get a spinning buddha statue and the kids get a lolly pop if the Buddha spun towards them, and even though they thought it was lame, well you can see it in their faces, Bradley thought it was cool and then said to his dad how about I plan games for them to play, like soccer out in the paddock, or even cricket, or tennis, and one of the homeless Boyd sadism I am too poor to get into Auskick, so can we play Aussie rules, and if I whip your ***, I know I can play for Richmond, and Kenneth who tried to be the cool kid there said, well if you make Richmond, it won't mean you are good, it means you play for Richmond, and Bradley told Kenneth to be nice to him, he obviously likes Richmond, and Kenneth said to Brad, why don't you shut up you stupid old ******* ****, and Bradley said, I am cool, I can turn these kids away from you.
Then Bradley said ok it's time to play a board game and little Ryan said, well what does board games have to do with helping us get houses, and Bradley said, oh no I ain't that powerful, I am just a kid, I can't give you a home, no,,I am here to make you feel that people actually care for you, because I think it would be tough for you having no home to go to and the kids listened to Bradley like he was one of the adults and being a typical jealous little brother started to get very jealous especially when e tried to make a joke, and they told him to get lost, because your brother is boosting our self esteem.
At the end of the day, Kenneth said to Bradley, you are a stupid ******* old *******, playing board games doesn't make them really feel better, what makes them feel better is taking them for walks around, but you are too stupid for that aren't you Bradley, you are too fucken shy to be like those kids friends, you see they all like me better, they just tolerate you, so go back to your bedroom and go and do some underage *******, no you aren't one of us boys, *******.
Bradley was upset with what Kenneth said and went to his bedroom and cried for hours and since then he didn't have inspiration to go back to his dads work to help the kids there, but his dad said, your brother is just jealous, and you should do this if it makes you feel happy, and his dad said, and if you find that Kenneth is proved right, just ignore them, and you can start off by ignoring Kenneth, because really, I wish every kid could have the inspiration that you bring to kids town, don't let teasing stop you for reaching your full potential, Bradley, Bradley decided his dad was right, and he kept on going to kid's town to make a difference in these children's lives, playing games and talking to one another, this was so cool the kids thought, Bradley thought he was growing up, and Kenneth who decided to come in, because he thought kids need to be kids, yes, his dad was doing a good job, but really Kenneth had what the kids really wanted, like he bought his computer and showed him the virtual world, and Bradley said no kids playing board games are fun, and computer games can wreck your eyesight, but the kids decided that Kenneth needed to be heard too, after all he is the other son of the kid's town leader, so they listened to him for a while and instead of trying to play along, Bradley felt hurt and said, ******* all, and went to his room to cry, and all the tough boys said, 'what a cry baby' and then he said his brother isn't an monster, we still like him, but Kenneth wanted to make Bradley jitter, so he now decided to play around laughing very loudly, like he was like us, man or something and Brad was in his room, crying and their dad decided that Brad needed to share his friends and said that he prefers the way Kenneth did things, Brad got really angry and started to be totally mental, by punching Kenneth like a ******, as well as threatening to **** the father that gave him a perfect life as a kid, of course he didn't **** him, but he was an angry *******, you see he was the board games king, while his brother was a computer **** kid, and Kenneth tried to not hurt Brad's feelings, even though, being a kid, he found it hard to not teaee the ****** and Bradley was put in a special school where he made a few new friends, but they weren't into playing board games or anything else with him, they wanted to teaee him, with teachers joining in, because Bradley needed to learn about how to control is temper, and someone tried to bully him, and Bradley stood up to him, and another guy was determined to tease Bradley also, but as he tried to punch Bradley put his hands on his **** and squeezed his ***** real tight, and since then everyone liked Bradley, but not to his dads liking the little cool kid to his dad was suddenly Kenneth,,and Bradley felt he was trying to tease Kenneth the same way, and see how he likes it, but all his friends like Kenneth better, and Bradley punched Kenneth in the gut and his friends thought Bradley was a **** and left the house and another girl at school was making fun of Brads parents and Brad tried to stand up to her,but she said, they never helped me,**** kids town and ******* early to bed and early to rise baby, and Bradley got really upset and from that moment the only young ones who like him were the rougher ones, who hassled Bradley for money,and Bradey became to shy to say no. Which made him a little young dude with no friends, he had family trying to contact him, but he was determined to make their lives a misery.
Bradley was an idiot, with his drinking and teasing and punching people, yes dude, he needs anger management, and he needs it now, but you must want to go, but Bradley made a pact, that he won't get help till Kenneth found a girl and got married and has kids,,so his thought of being teased all through his adult years, wasn't going to happen, and Kenneth married Bridgett Kingsley and they had Toni and Ros, yes, Bradley's little nieces, and he loved them dearly, and the bonding of Bradley and Kenneth grew fondly, while their parents had the old Brad back, he ain't married but he's happy, and that's what Counts in life.


******* that look a lot of wind singing this to you at the venus party trap and when i got home i was told to sit there little shy boy and let your school mates play air guitar, i was happy too, because of sam

at the poetry slam, thinking i had guts tom read a poem and not win, who cares, it’s a fun night out dudes

You see, you are still a little shy boy, and we are still teasing you
So, now you are working, man, come, leave us
And let us muck around, we want to smoke our bongs
As well as drink our bourbons, and drink 100 beers
Yeah we all feel cool, and don't wake up little shy boy
We want the adults to not bother us, cause we are having so much
Fun, we don't want to be adults,and don't want you to worry about us either
You see, all the men, are sitting there, trying to muck with them
Saying tease him, if you want to tease, just teaee him
But at the end of the day, man, we aren't really teasing
We are sitting up all night, being bums and young bludgers
And it's because you are such a ******
We might be making it seemed you are getting teased
But, we really want to leave you alone,,if you leave us alone
Cause, we are drug addicts,,and we want you to respect the fact
That we don't want to work, as long as you think that you aren't a young bludger
Everything will be already, but young bludgers go to bed for work
So mate, just enjoy yourself, and smoke your bongs
And have a good time, doing it
You see, I want to enjoy ourselves doing this
You are now leaving us all on our lonesome
See ya dudes

see you soon, venus party trap, and t

Dancing rainbows heckle the sun.
Jealous that everything orbits the star.
Grateful that the Sól of the universe contributes to their existence but they curse in silence...
Appearing unannounced and bringing smiles on rainy days by ironically displaying multicoloured frowns.
Holding grudges over sunsets.
Plotting against sunrise,
Conspiring with the night.
Unsatisfied with it's mere moments of glory.
Still whispering silent thank you's
Bipolar rainbows.

His car engine hummed as he sit,
Headlights shining through the dark onto the stone step.
Music softly bumps the night as she descends the doorway.
Curly full brown hair.
Bright green eyes.
Pink sweatpants and a flirty bathing suit top.
He had never tamed one of these before.
Usually he finds cute neon haired creatures
With drug habits and back stories.
This girl goes to bars.
She's had two kids.
She knows what she wants,
Tonight it's him.

They Park before the covered bridge.
Sit on rock by the water.
Full moon beams down and brightens the night
She speak of how the full moon
Makes the old folks at the nursing home go Zombie horde.
Wrinkled outstretched bone sacks moaning and crying.
He speak of how their jobs complete opposite.
She helps old ladies, and he cons them into
Buying vitamins they don't need.
He notes how before they even met
She was already fixing his mistakes.

Splashes and giggles are heard across the way.
They follow the sounds of adventure barefoot.
Stumble upon two lovebirds and a rope swing.

The lovebirds call at them.
"Join us!"

Various hunks of withered rope are tied off
Macgyver'd in ways that look dangerous.
There no platform or solid ground to stand on.
The girl confused as to how exactly one could use this thing.
She tries
She goes swinging right for the tree.

The boy stands on the sandy ledge and cringes.
Taking in all his surroundings.
Rope swinging, he notes,
Is not something he'd be good at.

Splash

The lovebirds heckle and cheer as he stand there
Realizing it appears like he's going to jump.
The girl, rises from the lake clumsily
She drenched beautiful disaster.
"That was terrifying"

The boy steps back from the ledge.
"I don't think I'm physically capable of doing that."
He embarrassed.
The lovebirds laugh at him as they leave.
"I feel bad for the guy" they say.

"They were kind of bullies" The girl says about the lovebirds.
"You think so? I like them." Says the boy.

They pack the sandy clothes into the car.
Head back to stone step.
Girl invites boy inside.
They lay on mattress
Watch "Orange is the new black."
A dog sleeps between them.

They pet the dog together
Occasionally brushing fingers.
Awkward fumbling shyness
She'd never had a geek before.
He's the first one to sit here like this
Usually she's already being objectified.
He cared enough to talk.
She never realized how impatient she was.

She changes into pajamas.
He doesn't get the hint.
She gets up and lights candles.
He still doesn't get the hint.
She turns her back to him
The boy sets an alarm for 5:00am on his phone.
He has work at 7:45
He puts an arm around her.
She is comfortable.
She is waiting.
He's too respectful
The boy is happy to finally have found a girl he can wake up next too.
He's so happy that he never falls asleep

The alarm goes off and the boy says goodbye.
He finally kisses her.
He thought it was a goodbye kiss.
She had other plans.
Soft hands slip down and undo the boys belt.
Finally, the boy understands.
He moves on top of her.
"Do you have... uhh.." the girls hands make an awkward balloon gesture.
"N-not with me... I have some in the car, should I grab one? or just leave?"
The girl looks desperately at the boy.
"Go grab one."
"Right!"
He steps into the unfamiliar kitchen and starts walking down the staircase to his car.
"This is uncomfortably awkward" he says
Grabbing the Trusty Square Artifact.
Return upstairs
They kiss again.
She starts to remove clothes.
He unwrap the good decision.
Suddenly they hear screaming on the T.V.
"NO! STOP! Stop it! NO!"
He looks at the television and sees doggett's absent eyes look back at him.
The boy looks back to the beautiful woman below him.
He sits back, defeated.
"I'm sorry but it is apparently not in the cards tonight."
"I understand. Wow." she reply
He awkwardly place the opened ****** on her dresser
The boy kisses her goodbye.
The girl lay there thinking about the night.
How terribly the night ended.
How she needs to call that boy again.

Those poor, misunderstood teachers,
Counting down days till retirement.
Like grunts in The Nam,
Waiting for a reprieve like it was a
Papal dispensation or a Presidential pardon, or
Last minute stay of execution from the Governor.
Teachers: dying a slow death
On the same lame stage day after day,
Performing amateur comedy,
Hosting their very own Karaoke Club;
Filling barely enough seats in the joint
To crack their daily job satisfaction nut.
The kids who do show up for class are too bored,
Or too apathetic to stay awake,
Heckle you or walk out.
Most teachers hate their jobs.
So many teachers, so many miserable mooks
Wishing they had some other job, any other job,
Like plumber or astronaut,
Mortgage broker or CIA assassin,
The last two with similar personality & career profiles
On The Myers Briggs Type Indicator MBTI® Step I Interpretive Report. Anything’s got to be better than being
Trapped in a 40 by 40 foot box all day,
Stuck in some Dungeons & Dragons classroom
All day with 40 chaotic, evil, teenage
Gary Gygax-ed kids, used to entertainment
Of higher quality and sparkle.
The cardinal sin of teaching:  Thou shalt not be boring!

Teachers complain constantly about how bad the money is,
Having to work almost 185 days a year,
Whining about only getting 8 weeks off in the summer &
Every freaking holiday on earth known to man.
Snap out of it: you get paid what may be one of
The last livable, middle class salaries in America,
Not to mention health and defined retirement benefits, &
You’re still kvetching.
Meanwhile, Good Teachers—
Those deliriously happy few,
That small rare band of subversives,
Maybe you can count them on one hand &
Still feel lucky you had that many—
I’m talking about the good teachers,
Who view teaching as an art form,
Atypical teachers with both brains and heart.
These are the teachers that make the difference.
These are the vital early role models we need
To encounter when we first leave home as toddlers.

I can still hear you, Mr. Feeny:
“I want you to go home this afternoon and open a book! I don’t care what you had otherwise planned, I order you, nay, I command you. Go home and open a book.”
Books are sine qua non.
Good teachers start out by reading a lot of books—
That’s the brain stuff.
It is life lessons of the heart, however,
That really counts,
Stuff they’ve learned the hard way,
The pain they’ve felt personally,
Particularly while young themselves.
That’s where the heart comes from.
And for **** sure they never read about it
In whatever passes for textbooks in
Most graduate schools of education,
Largely lame crap masquerading as academic rigor
In the diploma mills serving the education profession these days.
I taught in 15 high schools across the American southwest &
I’ve known some really breathtakingly dumb,
Essentially illiterate teachers.
Even at the highest institutions of higher learning,
The average educator of teachers is
Rarely known for intellectualism.
With the possible exception of Diane Ravitch,
Jonathan Kozol, Paulo “The Brazilian” Freire--&
Maybe that Marxist hold-out, Eric “Rico” Gutstein--
Instructional staff at most university
Graduate Schools of Education are not
Taken seriously by the rest of the academic faculty.
What was your source of heart, Mr.Kotter?
I can assure you, it was not something you
Picked up at a teacher in-service, Gabe, &
Welcome back, by the way.

If you remember one thing about
Teacher licensing, remember this:
Albert Einstein, at the height of his fame &
Intellectual prowess, could not walk in
Off the street from out-of-state, or
Anywhere else in the universe, &
Qualify for a secondary single subject
Preliminary license to teach physics.
Not in any public high school classroom in
California or in the state of New Mexico.
He simply lacked the requisite education,
Hadn’t taken the plenitude of pedagogic courses,
Expensive college credits in such vital subjects as:
Methods of Teaching Science for Dummies;
Educational Technology for Idiots;
Band Aids & First Aid;
Tae Kwan Do for the Inner City;
Teaching & Testing the Test Takers;
Touchy-Feely 101, 201 & 301;
Understanding Special Kids:
Gifted Kids, Not-so Gifted Kids,
Kids with Attitude & Kids with ADD;
Curriculum Simulacrum;
ELL/Cross-Cultural Learning;
Self-Esteem for the Worthless; &
Last but not least, Foundations of Education:
Sarcasm & Humiliation for Fun & Profit.
And I didn’t even mention taking & passing
That sublimely subtle CBEST or NMTA/NES,
Teacher licensure tests,
Essentially 8th Grade literacy exams
Quite a few applicants take 3 or 4 times
Before earning a passing score.

Blame society?
Blame the parents?
Blame the politicians?
No, teachers:
Blame yourselves.

Harried, Harassed, Hassled and Hounded-
These are the H-words I work by.

Harpies and Henchmen, Harridans and Heathens-
These are the H-folk I work with.

Hubbub and Hokum and Hurly-burly-
These are the places I do it.

Hoodlums and Hooligans, loaded with Hubris-
These are the clients I deal with.

Heartless and Horrible, Hateful and Hurtful
These are the attitudes around me.

Hopeless and Hapless, Haggard and Helpless-
This is the way I usually feel.

What happened to Happy, and Hopeful and Harmony-
These are the H-words I search for.

Hinder and Hobble, Heckle and Hamper-
These are the Hamstrings that trip me.

Heaven and Harmony, Humor and Honor-
These are the things that I strive for.

Havoc and Hades, Hurt, Hate and Hauteur-
These are the H’s that I have to conquer.

Hope, Help, and Herculean effort-
Is How I will finally get myself Home.
ljm

Consisting of grown, persisting as shown and unknown. Insisting entities, rivalries and sworn enemies! Deformed, forewarned, formed, informed, mourned, performed, reformed and scorned. Dates of great storms! Family tree of hate, horns and thorns. My family tree of gore, horror, more, poor and sore. Perhaps of mishaps galore. Briefly sit

back! I’ll roughly take you back… Heck! Back to a time of attack,
blacks, slacks and whacks. My family tree of practical, tactical, methodical Aztec. Some beckon and reckon in seconds. A family tree of crime, grime and rhyme. A nation of communication, dedication,
dissemination, motivation and procrastination. The splendor of sin

of my corruptive, disruptive kin. They rely more on the color of one’s
skin. My family tree of abuse and misuse that misuses and seduces! Family tree of warfare and welfare legalities, moralities and family-prodigies. Picture this scriptural twist! Some assist on a kiss. I insist
some are idealities in social technicalities. Alcoholics, diabetics,

******, exotic, fantastic, Catholics, eccentric, horrific and poetic. I persist… some gnomes, some roam, some in poems, some with no homes. My family tree of adventuresome, awesome, handsome and troublesome. My family tree of beautiful and bountiful! Some are a
handful some handicap some locally and vocally-rap. Some slap,

gift-wrap and yap! Some are snuggly, pretty, witty or ugly. In my family tree, some crippled, some with pimples, some with freckles
and some that heckle. Some belittle and little, some wrinkled and old. Some are bold and pray to the lord! Some are Frio, meaning cold we
were told. Some I say, are poor with no Amor. Some are here no more, in my family tree of Amor.

There's this guy who constantly gives me grief online
as if I need a reminder that I am not funny or smart
that I am incapable of posting any story without his remark
as if he should impart and bestow all of social media
with his divine and seraphic academia:
what is with that?

He posts comments about how illiterate my poetry is
how it doesn't follow the rules; the do-nots and the do's
pontificates how its not properly punctuated
as if I should give up altogether and just shine shoes
and forget trying to construct sentences
just wander in the carousel of nebula's
eternally seeking the tentacle of enemas:
what is with that?

This guy enjoys winding me up like a persistent hobby
the reverent devilment of sadistic entitlement
pushing my head under water for a digital baptism
that I should thank him for his rhetoric enlightenment
as if he was blessed with a correspondence talisman:
what is with that?

This isn't even a poem.
I am letting off steam like an overused kettle
fed up of his mortar forever rammed in my pestle
the temples are raging and my brain is just draining
to explode on cue on the next digital heckle
the cracked and broken vessel
into a vengeful steam-driven projectile:
what is with that?

This, < here > , is my only escape
and creative cathartic vent
I'll post this lament
with the stench of discontent
and tag his name and then just wait
for his feverish malcontent
that I should dare to
prevent his God-like dissent:

memo to self
to a digital antagonist
and his verbose verbal cyst
and the keyboard of twists
when you push
sometimes you get
a big shove back
so don't be surprised
by my riposte
and this poetic attack.

Sitting at the beach
At night

Where the fire keeps you company
When all the sailors have gone to bed
Where the sea sings its song
And it makes you forget
About the pain and the horror
The others went through
The reason they’ve gone to bed
And now only there’s you
Staring blankly at your hourglass
Knowing life well enough to say
That it doesn’t spare any
It’s going to take you in its sway

Sitting at the beach
At night

Where the sand tickles your feet
Teasing you like an old lover
Where the wind cools you down
While the heat makes you hover
You force this happy smile at first
Because tickling should be funny
but then again there are  tears
Why did you leave me, honey
These yellow stains they went away
And so did your little freckle
But I have to stop wondering
And I really shouldn't heckle

Sitting at the beach
At night

Where the stars keep on staring
No matter where your beach might be
They don’t make you do but realise
How important are we?
My lover has gone and I will have pain
But these bright spots are infinite
And I am just this little stain
So what is there to do for me
In this endless tree of time
As this small and lonely chloroplast
I’ll keep on trying to be fine

Grungy, tip-toed fool
The bottoms of his shoes laced with eggshells
His guts the consistency of yolk.

Too many minds occupy one head
And so he decides instead,
His own company was more than enough;

Recluse

“I hate the sunshine.”
“I’m afraid of the dark.”

“Can you hear me?”
“Keep quiet!”

Chatter turns to whispers.

“I’m too sober to listen.”
“I’m too drunk to care.”

“When does it end? “
“You know when.”

“Now?”
“Do it.”

Whispers turn to silence.

Smile,
I am your simile
Cry,
I am your crayon
Shout at me,
I enjoy your hoot
Play fool with me,
I am cool
Wet me,
I am not upset
Hit me,
I am not hurt
Kick me,
I kiss you
Bite me,
I like your taste
Trample me,
I am fine
Pull my hair,
I rejoice
I am your clown
Heckle me,
I am your pickle
Punch me,
I am your gym zone
My dear light weight champion
You are my delight n’ sunlight
Who else can do so my honey,
If not my Good Grand God Baby!

Smile,
I am your simile
Cry,
I carry on
Shout at me,
I enjoy your hoot
Play fool with me,
I am cool
Wet me,
I am not upset
Hit me,
I am not hurt
Kick me,
I kiss you
Bite me,
I like your taste
Trample me,
I am fine
Pull my hair,
I rejoice
I am your clown
Heckle me,
I am your pickle
Punch me,
I am your gym zone
My dear light weight champion
You are my delight n’ sunlight
Who else can do so my honey,
If not my Good Grand Blessed Baby!

Sown as corn at little cost
And doomed to bloom amid the frost
Struggling through frozen earth
Weak and withered after birth

Swaddled up in soothing lies
With jingles as our lullabies
Numbered at our fledgling breath
Weighed, tagged and worked to death

Grown into a paper mould
With ball and chain of solid gold
Impotent to break or twist
The wireless shackle about the wrist
Conform, obey, do not resist

A silken blindfold binding eyes
To hide corruption on the rise
While noblemen with scented whips
Peddle lies from fattened lips

Voices raised in honest fear
Are drowned before they reach an ear
Just watch the screen, rapt, unblinking
Television does your thinking

Accept the credit, pay the debt
Take the chance and make the bet
Tow the line and wear the tie
Heckle the honest, praise the spy

Apathy has your gullet gripped
And leather fingers, sugar dipped
Have slipped on over zealous triggers
Suppressing freedom, defending figures

Chemical fed and bred to serve
Dry of tongue and numb of nerve  
Right and wrong have merged together
And apathy, our chosen tether

The beast is neutered, caged and tame
The sinews of defiance, lame
Wash down pills with poison water
Disregard the silent slaughter

Slumbering as lions of old
While politicians growing bold
On plundered gains and stolen lives
Until their reckoning arrives

For once again the lions stir
And shackles fall from ancient fur
Beware the people, stay the whip
The masque of apathy must slip

Rise up, lions, sleep has passed
With every lie and bullet cast
A revolution overdue
We are still many, they are few

**

Master, this was said to me
should I be triggered or flogged?
Think Sisyphus happy.

What year is this?

Babble, babble, all around me, no
God, not this, again.

It's all in yer head, keep rollin' the rock.
keepin time, makin rime rimey rime
frees icicles on my beard
if you could see me now,

Hell, who imagined this?
I am Sisyphus happy and Sysifus sad,
now for as long as I care to recall

I roll the rock.

It was the hell I had envisioned, since
Camus at least, probably something triggered,
seventh grade, oh
cliché, except
the details, the evil, as seen in the thirteenth
year of an unwombed man's journey, womb to tomb.

I rolled the rock.
Alone as all hell, bored as hell.
food and drink, folly to think
so I stop thinking about them

as if someone thinks I can and I think I can.
Let's doit
daydream cliché, same seventh grader asks
Diane Wescott if he can kiss her
under the water
at the deep end of the public pool

Like Tarzan and Jane and she said yes,
again and again and again
like the expert's rats that are allowed
to suicide on big pharma grade *******

Wahoo, that got the rock rollin'
like I never thought she would now

yah, Jah, know what I mean,
Billie Jean, the kid coulda been mine

But I was rockin' and rollin' all night long,
notime, noo time ah tahlllll

Some minds may imagine Sisyphus happy,
but up to not too long
ago
I fail, failed am failing to re
call member hotline
now,
Matrix Wachowskie, bact to your box,

I am haunted by that movie, in 2018
keyphrase 2018 trigger Matrix movie 1
not the movie, the idea of endless bullets.

Who imagined that,
Hell, this is easy. Right, two persona one person sort of
story, no, too, Jekyl n Heckle

I can think any thing as long
as I roll the rock. This will go on forever,
as far as I can tell.

Rock and roll will live forever, let's take that
as a given, and just ignor the steady
up and down, resistance to punching down force goes up and release,
the rock rolls as far as Luck would have it, statically, probably

pause. breathe, read

The rhythm varies, I'm in forever, not in hell.
Push.

Smile,
I am your simile
Cry,
I carry on
Shout at me,
I enjoy your hoot
Play fool with me,
I am cool
Wet me,
I am not upset
Hit me,
I am not hurt
Kick me,
I kiss you
Bite me,
I like your taste
Trample me,
I am fine
Pull my hair,
I rejoice
I am your clown
Heckle me,
I am your pickle
Punch me,
I am your gym zone
My dear light weight champion
You are my delight n’ sunlight
Who else can do so my honey,
If not my Good Grand God Baby!

The room was filled with freak ******'s and other assorted nut jobs and then there were the folks that weren't writers.

It was a poetry reading open mic deal yeah what a wild party this was going to be but being the best of the best from Hello were supposed to be there I figured my invitation must have got lost in the mail.

You know what that is kids.
See before the net you actually had to get off your lazy **** to mail a letter yeah I know how ****** up is that?
It's almost like music where you actually play instruments  to enjoy instead of steal a loop from one of your parents records yeah don't pretend you understand that one if you under the age of thirty .

But enough with the foreplay children .
The room was packed the poets ready and as I took my seat I was shocked to find they wouldn't be serving ***** at this snooze fest .
Probably a good idea cause after teen age Timmy read his ode to his two day relationship we would all probably slip into a coma .

No worries much like batman but not as gay.
, I always had my trusty utility belt I'm kidding I just had a flask what kind of freak do you think I am?, Okay don't answer that one hamsters.

So after ordering a coffee and adding a little ******* tonic  I sat back and waited to listen to the young crop of writers read there poetry eager to take it all in yeah, right I did as always sat back and waited to
heckle the **** out of everyone hit on the waitress and generally be known as the loveable poetic areshole  of the site.

The time flew.
If by that you mean the time dragged on like we were being ear ***** by a duet between Justin Bieber    and Selna  Gomez .
It was brutal I tell you but the tide was about to make a turn for the better .

As the MC  for the event announced we have a special guest in the crowd tonight and hopefully with a round of applause we can get him to do a reading for us folks give a warm round of applause for .

I jumped to the stage the truly poetic ego maniac ***** eager to save the day or at least give it a good kick in the *** there's only so much
you can listen to of this yuppy ***** before you go insane hamsters .

The woman must have been in shock being in the presence of the greatest co writer in Hello history .
For she looked at me like she had no clue who the hell I was .

Um sir do you mind getting off the stage we are getting ready to ask Joel M Frye  to the stage.
Joel ?

Yeah sure he's a great writer and can spell and his farts smell of cinnamon and pier one or at least I have herd.
But do you have no idea of who I am woman?

She looked at me with a mix of sympathy and probably thinking I wonder if the institution knows he's escaped ?
Umm no sir sorry I don't have a clue.

I had to take in consideration this poor women probably had a smaller brain than the genius that stood before her .
I am Gonzo my sweet lady I said really slow so she could understand
cause she had a smaller brain I'm not saying that cause she was a woman so don't get all *** crazy on me sisters cause you know Gonzo loves you all like a perverted uncle .

Gonzo where have I herd that name oh yeah I know you I thought you died ?
What duh I'm standing here aren't I?

Wait a minute maybe I'm a ******* zombie **** I hate to think I'm one of those walking dead ******* although I have had *** with some ladies I swear could pass for a zombie course that was probably just the drugs I slipped them hey don't judge  I'm kidding I would never do that I do what every true gentleman does when in need.
Pick up hookers .

Hey John Joel said as he slipped up behind me like some poetic ninja .

Joel amigo how the hell are you please do me a favor and explain to this woman just who I am I mean really yeah it's like they don't know how kick **** I am .

Well Gonz maybe I can talk them into letting you do a reading .
Look this guys totally ******* nuts okay so bare with me Joel
whispered to the mc lady  who's smaller brain was truly annoying the **** out of me.

Gonz let me just work this out okay buddy .
I began to object then Joel pulled a truly ***** trick by handing
me the most recent issue of hustler magazine  .
From what I herd it had a great article in it yeah right you have to admire **** that doesn't pretend to be nothing more than what it truly is kind of like me  .  

The woman and Joel spoke for some time and I assume she had seen the error of her ways as she laughed and shook her head oh that Joel he is a charmer.

I  was almost halfway through the ****** hunt  section when .
Joel appeared again like some magical poetic ninja slash friendly dragon .

Gonz man I pulled some strings and after I do a reading your going to close the show hell I even got you your own dressing room and everything figured you'd like to warm up a bit or at least not ******* in front of everyone it's getting a bit awkward I'm just saying bud.

I had to admit Joel was a true friend and as I was shown to the back dressing room it truly tugged at that lump of coal I called a heart to know I still had a true friend on the site I could trust .

Okay here's your dressing room Mr Gonzo it must be a awesome one I thought to myself for it had a big red sign above the door man they truly went all out for me .

But much like when I learned where babies come from my delusion was soon broken in half yeah I always thought they came from dumpsters like I did.

I was standing in a alley ***** cold there were no drinks or hot chicks with there ******* out as I had been promised .
****** man I was starting to believe I had been tricked.

I quickly made my way to the front of the club to tell Joel what these ******* had done !.
But the doors were locked man poor Joel they have trapped him inside
anything could be happening I sure hope he wasn't being ***** .

I banged on the door but couldn't see anything for the lights were off
it's like the people inside were avoiding me like most my friends .

Hey I know your in there open up you *******! .
Woman with the small brain I called out.
Please if you can here me please get Joel out of there he's to good to be tarnished by your terrible readings or *****  cause that's not funny haha yes it is I'm so demented.

I sat there for what felt like ages .
and after five minutes I had to give up Joel was lost to the poetic **** inside ****** man so many good writers have been lost to such lures as these coffee shop readings.

I made my way to the local bar heartbroken seems there was no love for Mr Gonzo left in this town  .
I ordered a double and drank one to my friend who probably is reading this and thinking what the **** am I on this time .

Well it's mix of speed and bourbon but I'm  taking it a bit easy these days .

Dam you!, poetry coffee house readings you have taken far to many of my friends .
I drown my sorrows and passed out as usual and thanked the lord I had escaped with my life and Joel's **** mag I will treasure it forever my friend.

Until next time
Stay crazy kids .

Gonzo

There have been longer nights;
Restless hours, reels of pictures
Playing back our hours together;
On a loop, with no ending.

There have been unbidden thoughts;
You entering from the wings;
Me, like a funnyman startled
By a heckle or misjudged audience.

There have been warmer days;
When your eyes burned bright
And seemed to light up my way;
Your laugh setting fire to my heart.

There have been colder days;
As when we walked on grass;
You in borrowed warmth;
Repaying me, the proud lender.

There have been racking doubts
And moments of essential fear;
A jet dropping from the sky;
A hapless ship of fools.

There have been longer nights
But I really can’t remember when;
Since you left, the dark conspires
But the solstice brings your light.

Sat upon throne, my naked body
racked of bone
Tin foil crown
kept within forested womb
dressed with silver chill
as you danced and dangled
ministry, my salvation
my doom

False light, flash
I throw down
you take my form
you take my form
you take my form
YOU TAKE MY FORM
I touch that part
I foam
You strike
AXE, ARROW, SPEAR!

Reborn
You grab again
I give you my youth
You just take
smile as you smoke
blackened you smile
the heckle of that look
reminisce at destruction!

Sit amongst papers
no mind for matters
recalling that glorious crown
hold what little
of that time I can
submerged
a tin foil womb
baking that ******* within
I TAKE YOUR FORM
and dance and dangle your salvation
we dance to destruction

We strike the core
I dance like a drunkard
mocking
MOCKING
mocking
I touch that part
mocking
You see that ***?
You strike, I strike
You shoot, I shoot
we know the plot.


Our form, assumed
The dance of being alone
in that form
Only we know the tune
allowed for the beauty
of reality so dark
now a vacuum
the soot travels
whirls within tinged light
history's ghostly whim
******
I sit back down
I touch that spot
MOCKING
MOCKING
I breath, you breath
WE STRIKE

That feeling never far apart.

Not the first, nor the second, not even the third, nor the last-
you are further back in line- your turn is often past-
no leg to stand on, no claim to plea in town-
the people far outnumber you, and the people hold you down-
so the world can sedate you, dress you like a clown-
the hecklers heckle, the jesters jeckle-
they point out every flaw-
and count every freckle-
red headed step child, collage of human wastes-
foul smelling humans, grovel in distaste-

"Man, I can't stand the people who just panhandle and heckle the passersby. It's not their job to support your lifestyle and/or habits! I had one friend who was just harassing people; hey man, leave them the **** alone! I just wanted to punch him in the ******* face. Get a job, ya ***! Trim some **** or some ****!"

"Heh, yeah.. people can be obtrusive about some things.. I still like to try to help if I can; I mean, we're all in this together."

"I don't want your ******* money! Well, I mean, I have a job; I could go over to that ATM and take my money out and spend it.. .but why the **** would I want to?  I only say that 'cause some ******* **** me off. Support yourself, like the rest of the Natural World, you selfish *****!"

"Well, I'd feel better with my cash in hand than in some bank owned by some greedy, shifty, slick, loophole-******* *******."

"Wait a second, boy, do you paint your fingernails?"

"..Yes."

"Are you hetero******?"

"... yes."

"Okay, just checkin'. I'm just curious. I don't care what you do with your **** as long as you're responsible and don't **** with well-meaning girls' hearts and ****. We got too many diseased and pregnant *******. People deserve better than that stupid ****. Some of 'em like being treated like objects, though. Them's the filthy'ns."

"Ookay.. thanks for the advice. I'm going to be on my way now. Have a great day."

"Alright. Don't be an ******* to anyone until they show that they deserve it! Be a ******* Person to other ******* People, you know what I mean, boy?"

"Yep, I sure do. It's been an experience; good morning."

On a yellow-lighted main street we pause on a corner
For a moment, our companions lagging behind.
You set down the twelve-pack of beer by a lamp post.
I zip up my jacket. We both grumble, impatient.
I'm cold, you want to get drunker, we both
Shiver. You stand against a stone wall, we face
Each other across the sidewalk. Your hair
Flies into your eyes as you toss your head --
"Come the **** on!" -- at those half a block back.

A couple passes by us, the man in a dark tuxedo,
The woman in a white wedding gown and heels,
Hair in disarray. They stop their post-nuptial trudging, and she
Leans against the building for support to remove
Her shoes. His hand rests protectively on
Her back; none of us make eye contact. And then
Her shoes are off, bare feet padding lightly down
The November-chilled San Francisco sidewalk.

"Hurry up, you *******," I heckle backwards at our three
stragglers. "Newlyweds are moving faster than you."
We glance at each other again, you
Light a cigarette and shake your head. It hits
Me with a chuckle. "Man, those people
Just got married and here they are, walking
Down a street in the city at 2 in the morning."

"Right?" you reply, laughing a little. Our eyes meet
As if sharing a joke. And then we look away.
You cross the sidewalk in two long strides,
And bend to pick up your beer, handing me
Your cigarette. Within a block our quick pace
Has left the others behind again.

Every word gets me closer
Each answer draws me near
My sand is falling, crashing, piling
In the hourglass of my tears

The pile is quickly growing
Postcards and letters by my bed
Each day they harass and heckle me
Clouding up my head

Torn apart and bleeding
Wounds never seem to heal
Every time my plans are set
Emotion breaks the deal

This is getting rather old
And my time is running out
I sign my name and slam the cover
Terrified by doubts

I must beg your forgiveness up front for this verse.
I don't want to be ****** or rude or perverse,
but all over the world, things are going oh so wrong,
and it's due, in large part, to the President's ****!

Some leaders have brains and they lead with their mind.
Some lead from the heart and are thoughtful and kind.
But President Trump, he shall reign and shall rule.
Being led from below by his shriveled old tool.

You can tell by the way that Trump likes to abuse
women like they are objects to conquer and use.
Trump surely likes weapons, strongmen and dictators.
Trump labels all challengers liars and haters.

It is this sort of strutting, denial and attacking
that comes from a man who is seriously lacking
in confidence and a true manly demeanor,
and to compensate, Trump is obsessed with his wiener!

Now, I don't want to ridicule, criticize, heckle
the importance and worth of every man's schmekel,
but it's rather perverse and off base and quite sick,
when you turn off your brain and just follow your ****.

It just makes Trump so subject to manipulations
when he's flattered and aided by unfriendly nations.
Through his payoffs to hide his betrayals and ******,
Trump's Johnson has led him to such Stormy seas!

When he calls out Bill Clinton for his cheating ways,
the hypocrisy never shall cease to amaze!
All the cover-ups prove him a liar and a fake -
A pathetic, small slave to his small trouser snake.

Now I hope in your heart some forgiveness you'll find
for me planting these images into your mind.
And let us all hope that it will not be long
'til the world's ruled no more by the President's ****.

Underneath the swaying hickory tree,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though his song crumples in the sweltering
Southern breeze, he continues to strum
His guitar strings with a zealous passion,
Expelling each song lyric outward from the
Disconsolate depths of his mourning heart
In hopes that someone, somewhere will listen.

Within the confines of his cluttered garage,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though an irritated sister bangs violently
On the door, he continues to play unperturbed
As his three bumbling friends dance clumsily
To the crooked melody and his younger
Brother rolls on the grimy floor in uncontrollable
Laughter at the screech of a leaky note.

In the bustling, sullied streets of the city,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though passers by attempt to avoid eye contact,
Whipping out their sleek smartphones and burying
Their faces in their screens as they hurry past him,
He continues to penetrate their eardrums with his
Dissonant ballads, pausing only to collect pennies
Thrown in sympathy at his worn, weathered feet.

In the Marlboro stench of a crumbling nightclub,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though some customers, unsettled by the cheap alcohol flowing
Pugnaciously through their veins, heckle him relentlessly,
His guitar continues to erupt with an unapologetic
Persistence, rattling the stomachs of even the
Sober clients into a nauseous, drunken ailment.

And now, despite the aching calluses ingrained in his fingertips,
The bumps and bruises deriding his cherished instrument, and
The overbearing lights irradiating him from the high iron canopy,
He continues to pour each poignant lyric from within him, just as he
Has always done, Letting each of his fingers dance from
String to string, and every verse arouse into graceful takeoff.

As he reaches the final verse of his final song, he pauses abruptly,
And listens to melodious, emphatic voices
Reciting each lyric and bursting into jubilant applause.

In the limelight of a thousand adoring eyes,
He still plays that Gibson guitar!!!

with a bit of dual casual id ities
one day i heckle
the next i jive
all along
the rolly coasty ride
when in the valley
hide I do
on the peaks
I giggle
too much
you see
saw me there
a bit of bi-polarized

a deer
in the
glare of a midnight
blue
full sun
and half-moon
house of horror
carnival ride

a need to be the center
of attention
if I can climb out
from under the bed
earning my board
dressed  
as a siamese
twin

Eschewing that second thought,
let me tell you what I truly sought
come, lock me up in your heart
you, I've no doubt  is a true despot

I don't hold back, life is way too short
can't heckle and haggle like an idiot
on the planes, see  profligacy of robust water
hills are in the reign of wild sun and winds

Here ends the vast fields of ripened  rice,
where prowl crooked foxes eyeing hens,
on the foot hills furious bisons flare nostrils,
as you climb,eager leopard smells blood.

Love is the  fragrance  that outlives the flower,
my trek to the mystic mountain continues where
**** and shroom grow tangled  everywhere
the trek to the love hill, to strike  gold,is in progress,

-

Held beyond oblivion,
shackles cut the flow,
chains of rusted memories
wrapped tightly
around my windmill brain
Squeezing life, in or out,
pooling on a jagged earth
Grimacing contorted gestures
and pointed fingers heckle
as I am dragged through the streets
of my misshapen thoughts
Over cobblestone alleys,
dark lonely walls splattered in
pig blood graffiti
spelling my name wrong
Dripping slowly, staining brick
and off color facades
changing by the day,
exposing expressions
of those shunned
in the face of popularity

I no longer watch
The Tonight Show,
Can't stand his auto *******:
He Loves them all,
They're Fantasatic and Great,
They're all The Best;
And on his A List!
But let's be serious,
They're just entertainers.

His Pros and Cons
Are so predictable,
The Superlatives
Are quite despicable.

I miss Mike and Merv and Phil
(Not Dr. Phil... he's a pill),
And Geraldo and Jerry,
Like Heckle and Jeckle,
Gave us our daytime fill.
Sally and Montel did well,
Like Ricki, **** and Arsenio,
Carson, Dave and Jay Leno.
They surpassed the late night swill
Of Jimmy's mono-drivel.

the old dock silent in winters cold embrace
such it would be all day
save for the logistics race
to the moaning of a ship in slow decay

seagulls hover high above on ***** wings
her tumor of rust and fallen pride
they heckle her, the filthy things
on winds of scorn they ride

she should have been allowed to drown
to end her reign with stern held high
but profit must in books be noted down
for her tortured hull, no end is nigh

in her hold now; fresh water, tinned fruit and frozen meat
drums of oil and parts for the engine to spare
to keep this crew, her carers on their tired feet
and make her next long trek easier to bare

alone on the dock he watches her leave
once more, like in times of old, she raises her sail
wishing the sea to offer her reprieve
for a reef to shatter her old tired hull, so frail

Dabble dabble,
turn straddle,
wisp tip moon hippie
I'm a *******
tree new faucet
running love spring kicks
in giggles

sullen street
hot stellar *******
shiny ball dress, prince
to the curb.

I drop thee, mop thee,
sell you in a ***, be
kind, oh so nice
with the temperature. Sing
to the walls
light
dances fast
that bores into your soul
catapulted slide-push. Mad!

I'm a ******* dream
in the night
when you can't sleep
clock cast
dope engine.
Chock me if you can!

sullenly...
it be cats in the back slab
****** took a dish to the
heckle baby laugh blab

hit me, fist me,
do a little hiss and be the
funny fickle fellow felt a
not a single dream
can be as loud as
hard *******

applause

Can we dance the diamonds off?
I hate this stupid life!
red, starry, **** so funny,
****
fan
fun
have to
laugh it out

Shake, bake, smoke, fake,
sizzle, slab, evaporate!

I'm going
I'm going
I'm happy
I'm happy

Are you real, are you deal,
can I have thy Neptune meal?
Feed me dreams and orange
stories, drink me apple
grass like rain see
flowers ghost and
I heart thee, ha.
Take my heart, my blood,
my wrists. Kiss me,
let's be ground with this.