We’re in many different places.
For some
It’s a basement
Or a motel room.
For others
It’s a kitchen table
with all the lights off
just the single bulb ahead.
We spend our nights
Smoking and typing
sharpening our senses
with drink or smoke
and typing for hours
night after night.
Klick klick klick ding shhhhhhhht
the typewriter sings it's tune.
For me it always comes back to the porch.
Everywhere I move
I always end up on the porch.
Never without the
Kerr “Self-Sealing” wide mouth Mason jar.
Full of ice cold water
constantly refilled throughout the night.
Always dripping with condensation
even at night.
It’s ******’ burnin’ up outside.
Ya gotta suffer for it
though
That’s what makes the difference.
Right now
someone is alone in a room
pacing back and forth
burning themselves with a cigarette
staring at a page.
They’re the only ones that
will ever see it.
Either the drink or the drug
will take them first.
Or they just slip into and get lost in
the madness.
Then they become as
indecipherable
as the academic intellectuals.
Hell,
It could happen to me too.
We’ll see what happens.
Keeping it going
Every night
standing on the porch
pouring it out
sending off a weekly
5 poems
getting it out there
like so many do.
We’re in many different places.

Mowing down competition like I a Gatling gun, got des fools on deh run.
Do this **** for fun, and I'm big and I love puns.
Name sadly already taken, oh well My names good and Nonetheless I be grappling these hooks hoping I don't reel in the kraken.  
I be cracking yawl up all night,  so what if we slack off a bit it's ok for we need to relax some nights.
Long days with strong or weak power plays, and days were emotions run a muck and life doesn't conform to our ways.
Rattling the war drums, rebelling because we tired of eating measly crumbs.
Get out the Gatling gun for its open season, time to teach these ***** a lesson.
Realize recognition and watch out for false perception in your cognition.
For eyes can lie so be wary and skeptical and never take bribes.
Real recognize real, if I ever fake myself again I’ll probably take a cyanide pill.
If I ever conform I would probably chug some chloroform.
If I ever cheat on my girl for some other *****, instead of dealing with the aftermath I’d probably drink some bleach. Go on a milk run and try to avoid the Gatling gun.
What the ****, why the ****, who the ****, where the ****, how the ****.
Get out the equalizer and go klick klick bang, the ting go gaa gaa blang.
Hit them wit de gat, swing it like it were a bat.
Floor ya to the mat, be like de earth cause you’ll go flat.
What ya tink aboot dat, mess wit de hammer yawl go splat.
Uh for real, de gun I gotta conceal, so don’t get all hasty man ******* chill. Macaroni, alimony, melancholy kinda funny once ya know de story.
Rain drop stained mop, living in de hood like what up my glip glops.
Going spaced out like I’m in a space ship, took some lcd recently that’s what I call a space trip.
It’s just basic rocket science and don’t mind me if I’m not compliant your highness.
I’m the finest with bars riddled with finesse, it’s like a Gatling gun putting bullets to thee chest.
Hold up shut the **** up, pause while a chug some lean from a big red cup.
Not for the weak minded, got gats for poor sneaky blinded folk cause ya got to keep it 100.
What the fickle popsicle gotta giggle for I’m not just a rickle in time for not just anyone can turn themselves into a pickle. Riggety recked, got out the Gatling gun so best hit the deck.
When I plan to paint this town.
Because I don’t **** with clowns.

It starts with the firing of a neuron,
Electric signals racing to the muscles of your hand.

Klick clack go the keys,
Each press your intentional thought, emotion.

As you press enter,
A cascade of binary commands floods the wires of the machine.

Instantaneously, the signal is sent halfway around the country,
Received by my laptop like an arrow to the bullseye.

It only takes a second to load your message,
Another second to read it,

Another second for it to put a smile on my face.