this is my disease
here i am age 6 stealing candy from a shop on Broadway
here i am age 7 pulling a girl’s ******* down around her knees while she’s swinging upside down from jungle gym bars
here i am age 8 Jackie K shows me how to ******* to this day i’ve never looked back
that’s me age 9 creeping into my sister’s bedroom into her sleeping girlfriend’s adjoining bed concerning my sister she’s a great gal but i’ve never been physically attracted to her
this is my disease
here i am age 10 with 4 grammar school buddies shoplifting at Marshal Fields department store we got caught sent home and severely punished
here’s me age 11 erasing and altering test scores in my 6th grade teacher’s grade’s book while class is out to recess
here i am age 12 repressing my true voice and lying to my parents about everything
this is my disease
this is me age 13 being shipped off to boarding school
that’s me age 14 getting kicked out of boarding school then shipped off to another boarding school
there’s me age 15 with Kent stealing girl’s purses from Pink Panther lounge in Rogers Park
here i am age 16 stealing Mom’s sleeping pills trading to score my first heroine fix sick as a dog vomiting by the side of the road
this is my disease
this is me age 17 running away from home to Haight Ashbury CA waking up with ants crawling in my hair strung out on methadrine and acid in Berkley crash house
and there i am age 18 running from tear gas and police Billy clubs in Lincoln Park and rioting in Grant Park at the 1968 Democratic Convention
that’s me age 21 getting tricked by my parents into 3 month lockup at Institute Of Living Hartford CT
this is my disease
there i am age 23 practicing Transcendental Meditation and yoga with Cathleen at Hartford Art School
there’s me age 24 kissing with Cathleen in photo booth at the Century Theater in Chicago
there’s me age 25 working for my Dad while Cathleen is away with her family in Indonesia
there i am age 27 holding a teacher’s certificate from SAIC Mom’s idea i never wanted to discipline kids
that’s me age 30 wearing necktie working at CME and selling coke on the side
that’s me age 32 drunk slurring words telling Elizabeth and her Mom at expensive seafood restaurant i wasn’t fit to marry anyone
this is my disease
here i am age 32 stealing money drugs to support my urges
that’s me age 34 with my first puppy Taters
there’s me age 37 awarded Illinois Arts Council Grant spitting peeing splashing blood on charcoal drawings reading Marquis de Sade dismissing many girls
here i am age 41 exhibiting my first one-man show at Deson Sainders Gallery Chicago Dad dies 6 paintings sold
that’s me age 44 leaving Chicago after too many dropped ***** opportunities chances at love success no destination other than hope prayer of becoming a better person
there i am age 48 burying Taters deep in dirt in Wilmington NC
this is me age 49 working at a record store in Tucson AZ running in the mornings feeling so alone crying
this is me age 50 ******* about **** *** peeing hairy females questioning to myself do any of those fixations actually matter in a real relationship
this is my disease
there i am age 55 living without drugs for more than 10 years swimming every day awarded yoga certification
this is me age 61 without  the affections of a woman for 15 or more years wondering if i’ll ever find love
here i am age 62 returning to Chicago worried about Mom’s illness hoping praying begging for just one more possibility to prove myself
this is my disease
this accounting does not include surviving throat cancer Hepatitis C severe compound fractured wrist and 2 suicide attempts
this is my disease

I was playing a game with my kids the other day

I asked:
What do you use to see?
She said 'your eyes'
He said 'your brain'
Both right
Next I asked what do you use to hear?
She said 'your ears'
He said 'your brain'
Both right, again

The wisdom of children!

The game ended there but it got me thinking about what we use to feel
The most straight forward answer is our skin
Your brain is what processes the sense of touch so that has to be included
What about your heart?
Where does it fit into the big scheme of things?
Isn't the heart the space where we process feelings?

I have to loosely define things and often turn them upside down
ruminate
reorder my worldview to make it copacetic
I'm pretty sure that I often walk in two worlds
If my mind is simply locked in the western paradigm then people look at me like I'm bizarre
I'm not joking when I say they've wanted to lock me up because of my views
When I allow my mind to get locked into this western paradigm,
I sometimes even feel like I belong in lockup.

That's even worse than being held against your will
You're being held because you've lost your will

So I play with definitions to better suit my needs

When you do this however, there is a risk
Last summer I unlocked a spectre as I drank deeply and greedily from Crypt Lake

Crypt Lake is a real place on this planet
How did it get it's name (you might ask)?
According to the Blackfoot, placenames aren't given,
they come from place

Let's contextualize ~ this is all part of the journey
The physical leads to the spiritual and vice versa
To get to Crypt Lake you have to enter Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park
Found in the southwest corner of Alberta and the northwest corner of Montana
Once through the gates you have to catch a boat at a certain time
You have to be in the physical plane of existence at this point otherwise you're not getting on that boat
Once you get to the trailhead, then you can start to drift

That's what I did
As I walked, I let the stories come into me
I let them flow through me
They were sitting there waiting to be told
A spruce, arm in arm, with a pine
Hawks circling overhead
An ever present alertness for our bear brethren
Always open to the wildflowers
Indian paintbrush (I have red hair could I be considered an indian paintbrush?)
Pollinators flitting about
Oh, the water

Listen to the stories the water told:
First we come to Hell Roaring Falls
Next Twin Falls
Next Burnt Rock Falls
And to reach the Crypt, we have to pass through a mountain tunnel
Opening up to Crypt Falls
and finally Crypt Lake

This is a regular heroes journey if you allow it to be
I was in that place in my mind where I allowed it to unfold as it may

This is a place that's also known as the Crown of the Continent
Not far away is Chief Mountain, Turtle Mountain, and Crowsnest Mountain
Also Writing-On-Stone and the Milk River and Sweetgrass
These are holy names, this is a holy land

What I saw at Crypt Falls was the backbone of the continent
I saw the backbone of Turtle Island

I was floored
I had been on a continent wide spirit quest a few years previously
There was talk that the Deed for Turtle Island was coming due
And maybe it would be produced at one of these gatherings
We all waited but nobody produced it

I ruminated on that idea for a few years
I'm pretty sure that the Deed was there
Those who held it, just didn't realize

I learned something at the Crypt
I wanted answers and I made an assumption
I assumed that the water held the answers
So I drank deeply, even greedily from the Crypt

Right there in the international peace park, on the crown of the continent
With the Old Chief and the Crowsnest not far away
Writing-On-Stone just a sashay away
What about writing in calcium?
If I were the earth, I would encode important information in something
Transmutable

Not blood.
Bones

What I learned up there on the mountain as I gulped down knowledge from the Crypt was that the deed is written into the bones of the land and into the bones of those borne of that land

This is indigenous knowledge

It's in the water, the water is the medium for the message
The bones are the stock
But just like a double helix
A genetic sequence is an expression of time and place
On a certain spacetime continuum this innocuous looking structure
(take a look in the mirror)
Has all the necessary answers

Ferry Me

Ferry me, but once more.

The last ferry rides of Indian Summer,
Always arrives on schedule which is
Always and precisely, too soon.

Then, the imprisonment months,
Sentence, indeterminate.

A Grand Jury trial of months,
I, and my co-defendant,
My sanity, this time, the Oddsmakers say,
Won't survive the lockup.

The source perfume of driftwood words,
Very ferry distinguishing marks,
Sails and seagulls, diesel fumes and saltwater,
Sunsets and seagrass, flying fish and multi-mollusks,
The stuffing of my summer turkey, the currants of
Poems and dreams, sad-eyed longings...

Now,
Evidence used by prosecution,
Confession freely uncoerced,
I Am A Summer Man
Adjudged and convicted,
Guilty of Winter's Discontent.

But it is these last few passages,
Not of words, but over water,
The absence thereof, crush, ravage,
Worse than any grey calendar captivity,
Forlornly, I mouth silently, repeatedly,
Ferry me, but once more.

The course, straightforward,
Voyager, but a few minutes, but long enough to
Love it deeply, need it like a fix,
The mania of the mainland left behind,
The island, thinly lit, more shadow than real,
The approaching dark, shelters, comforts, embraces.

Perhaps, likely, I deceive myself.
No matter how the island comforts,
The brain always rumbling,
Can never make stop questioning,
Prisoner of 24/7,
But it is lessened, left behind,
As I am ferried away both,
In body and in mind.

Logic లేని  love lockup  death లా  చంపింది . .
Tragic సొంతం  అయ్యేలా  తిప్పుతునది . .
Traffic signal లా  control చేస్తుంటది  
picnic లాగా  time ఏ  తెలియకుండా  చేస్తది .
Panic అయ్యేలా  పరుగులేతిస్తది . .
Expired Tonic లా  నన్ను  ముంచ్చేస్తాది   . .
Mechanic లా  నన్ను  మడతేటెస్తదీ     . .
genetics మొత్తం  జంతర్  మంతర్  చేస్తది .
Technic లన్ని  తెలుసుకొని  తారు  మారు  చేస్తుంది .
Psychic cinema లా  Tension పెడటది  .
graphic లాగా  లేనిదే  ఉనట్టు  అనిపిస్తది . .

Staring out the window
through the raindrops and my tears
i see my past go by me
as I travel through the years

I'm sitting on a greyhound
all I own is down below
The darkness hides my bruises
and my inner scars don't show

I tell myself "it's time"
I know just where I'm at
I tell myself "it's time"
I know it's time that....

It's time that I took back my life
It's mine..**** it...mine
It's no one elses...it's my life
It's time...yes...it's time
I'm taking back my life at last
Once again I will be me
I'm gonna find out who I was
It's time that I was free

Married nearly fifteen years
with a dozen blackened eyes
More broken bones than I could count
Fixed by I love you....broken lies

I still don't know just what I did
To have love shown this way
I buried myself deep inside
I hid my life I guess you'd say


I tell myself "it's time"
I know just where I'm at
I tell myself "it's time"
I know it's time that....

It's time that I took back my life
It's mine..**** it...mine
It's no one elses...it's my life
It's time...yes...it's time
I'm taking back my life at last
Once again I will be me
I'm gonna find out who I was
It's time that I was free

He doesn't know just where I am
In fact, neither do I
And watching through the rain streaked glass
It's easy now to cry

The nurses called the cops this time
Gave me money...and said run
He'll spend the night in lockup
And you'll be gone before the sun


I tell myself "it's time"
I know just where I'm at
I tell myself "it's time"
I know it's time that....

It's time that I took back my life
It's mine..**** it...mine
It's no one elses...it's my life
It's time...yes...it's time
I'm taking back my life at last
Once again I will be me
I'm gonna find out who I was
It's time that I was free

I have never had this feeling
Not in many many years
There's a voice deep down inside
That's been stifled by my fears

I'm taking back my life from you
I'm me and not your wife
I'm no longer your old punching bag
I'm taking back my life...
I'm taking back my life
I'm taking back my life

i’m not getting teased, cause i’m a hooligan



you see i remember getting teased by all the families

and it drove me pretty mad, i hated it,

and the only way to rid this evil teasing

is to be evilly myself, by saying, you are still

a family person and i am a hooligan

and if you don’t stop teasing me, i will slit your throat

you see you are a loser, a total and utter loser

i told them, i will come and grab you, and grab the other teasing young dudes

and then i say, i will say, i am a hooligan and you are a family person

my mate and i are planning to grab you

and throw you in the bin, and i will go ha ha ha ha

you have been trapped by us hooligans

you are going to suffer for teasing me, cool boy

i am going to show you, if you tease me, i will **** you

and get rid of your corpse, in the sea

make your body all itchy, and us hooligans

will tie you teasing boys up and i will say ha ha ha

you see you will never escape from me, ever

you say i am shy, but if you keep calling me shy, i will come

and tie you up and say i am a hooligan and i will **** you, right now

and then i will sit down and play cool for you, because you are a family person

and i am a hooligan and i will **** you and play cool for you and every family person on earth

and when any teaser teases me i will go ha ha ha and lay a knife right to their head

you see i will **** the guy who nicked my lunch because he treated me like a queer different person

and as soon as i met my mate, i kept myself hidden with the hooligans ready to pune on him

saying,you are going to die, you are going to die, because i am a hooligan and you are a family person

and you are getting played cool for, with your crazy trying to be a young dude

and i will sit there saying ha ha ha, you family people are going to be a part of my little gang

where i will play cool for you and terrorise you

you see you will never escape from me, you cool boy, you will n ever escape from me anymore cool boy

i will throw cricket stumps on you and you will be scared of me, you little cool boy

i will go out and have some fun, putting you cool boys into the lockup and i will feed you dead rats and spiders

and if the spider bites your inners, i will yell ha ha ha ha saying i am the hooligan, keeping the family people under wraps

and i will attempt to **** you all if you don’t fucken leave me alone, *******

you see i am getting sick of you, teasing me, and every time i touch you you go crazy

but i expect that from a family person such as yourself

i will **** you, i will **** you i will **** you, you will be dead from us, forever

and in 3 weeks all the family people are dead and us hooligans are playing cool for future family people

to make sure the cool boys who tease don’t exist anymore

i said, i am not getting teased, i am a hooligan

Oh, you trapped my soul
Locked it in the jailhouse
I came here a man out of time
Today a parasite
Clinging onto the walls
Wrapped around the bars
Stone walls are my friend
Prisoners are my family
Orange jumpsuits for a uniform
Carving the lines into the granite
What time is my parol?
Tastebuds conform to the slop
No one believes my cries
This verdict isn’t mine
I never did the crime
I must have been framed like a picture
Tricked by the trickster
My lawyer was in on the plot
Helped no one but himself
Oh, you trapped my soul
When will the day come
Where I leave behind these walls?
Somedays I think
This is where I belong.

Last night I went out for a beer
Down to my local bar
While I was there I do believe
I saw a falling star

I ordered up a beer and shot
Sat down, to waste some time
When I heard a gruff voice rumble
Two seats down from mine

"Shut that juke box off barkeep"
"I can't stand to hear that voice"
"I'd rather rip my ears off"
"If I truly had the choice"

The barkeep wandered back a bit
Turned the sound down for a while
I kept on at my beer and then
I ordered two more, with a smile

"Send one down to him" I said
"Let him pick a song on me"
"He can choose whatever song he wants"
"And tell him, this one's free"

The barkeep served the beer on up
The man turned and looked my way
He said "I thank you for the beer, kind sir"
"But there's nothing there to play"

About an hour passed before
The band took to the stage
They broke into an old, old song
And the man, yelled out with rage

"I don't need to hear that song"
"I hate it, don't you know"
"Play anything else you want to play"
"But, cut that from your show"

The band continued playing
The man got mad as hell
"I hate that song, I told you"
"You can all now go to hell"

I watched the barkeep move in
He whispered close so none could hear
The man, sat back in silence
I wonder what was whispered in his ear

I ordered up a beer for me,
With two shots, and then moved stools
When I got beside me
He said "Do you think that I'm a fool?"

I said, "just have a drink bud"
"Let the band play what they want"
Then he turned and looked on through me
With dead eyes and face so gaunt

"Son, I wrote that ****** song"
"I sang it all my life"
"I wrote it for the one I loved"
"She used to be my wife"

"While I was  singing songs for her"
"She was flat out on her back"
"For everyone who came for me"
"She had two more in the sack"

"I used to play the music boy"
"And I used to play it well"
"Now, I'm just a stinking drunk"
"With one foot set in hell"

"I used to have a tour bus"
"Play two hundred shows a year"
"Now, I sit and wallow"
"I live on charity and beer"

"I started drinking on the road"
"Couldn't sing, I couldn't feel"
"I couldn't sing the words I wrote"
"The feeling wasn't real"

"I fell into a bottle, son"
"About ten years ago"
"I haven't reached the bottom yet"
"I've still a ways to go"

"She took my words away from me"
"Stomped my heart and made it dust"
"She took all I ever had"
"My words, my love, my trust"

"I thank you for the beer boy"
"But, I am just a hopeless case"
"I used to be a someone once"
"Now, I take up space"

The barkeep, set up two more beers
He said "These one's here  are free"
"Your words, they still have meaning"
"At least they do...to me"

The band struck up another
It was one that we all new
I could see him start to shaking
I guess he wrote this too

He told me boy "it's kinda tough"
"Knowing all I had is dead"
"I keep hearing myself singing these"
"But, only in my head"

"Three nights a week I spend the night"
"At the lockup, drunk as hell"
"Because, I just can't stand to hear my songs"
"And the stories that they tell"

I finished up, and shook his hand
Paid my tab and turned to go
From behind me, I heard "thank you"
"I just thought that you should know"

Tonight, I went out for a beer
I went to my local bar
Two seats from me I guess I saw
A real life falling star.

There were several hundred of us
And we were marching up the street.
We could hear some of the curses
We did not consider defeat.
We were lawfully assembling there
Though the custom  bade us not.
The time had come, we would not stop
We would strike while the iron was hot.

It was the one-year anniversary
Of rebellion against unfair laws
And there were many thousands of us
There to rally for a righteous cause.
We intended to show them all
What social freedom can mean.
And it was all started a year before
By some righteous, rebellious queens.

We were respectful and orderly
As we formed the parade
It was seen to that all permits
Were properly secured and made.
There were some simple floats
And choirs and groups
That were marching together
In Hollywood's traditional
And pleasant summer weather.

The police stood by, many deep
To be sure we **** behaved.
And so we all mostly did
So nobody ended in a grave.
We didn't hear of anyone
Being hustled into the lockup.
Forgive the pun, but it went down
Without much of a cockup.

TV was there, but not a horde,
And we got thirty seconds later.
We were pretty sure that alone
Would stimulate the haters.
To see us gays holding hands
And kissing in the street.
We were sure it would bring
Bigots at home to their feet.

But we didn't care, we had done
What even we didn't expect.
We got Hollywood and society
To look at us with respect.
Things started to change then
In California and everywhere.
We were here and we were queer
And no longer easy to scare.

captured in the psych ward the cool heavy metal fan winds up being captured in the psych ward



you see while ron is busy in his hdu trying to look after everyone, in werribee, there was this man

playing heavy metal really loud, and the real **** of a bloke came out to complain about it

the heavy metal fan told him to get nicked and put it up even more louder, and this bloke rang the

police and the police came down in 45 minutes and the heavy metal fan said, dude, i am only sharing

the music i like the best, and it is good music he said, but the police said, TURN IT OFF, and when the

heavy metal fan refused and also spat right in the cops face, and the policeman grabbed him and

put him in the back of the paddy wagon and sent to the lockup, when he got there, he stopped swearing

and became suddenly good, actually forgetting about why he is there and this prompted the police to
‘
put him in the HDU, saying he is a danger to himself and others, but he became very defensive when it came

to defending his music, he punched charlie chaplin and patty roe, for saying his music is crap, and ron

went into his room to try and get his name, and he said it was axil slash bone, and ron didn’t believe that

was his real name, but it was hard to get his real name out of him, so he called him axil, and ron said

do you know why you are here, and axil said, i was listening to my cool heavy metal music and this big fat

rich ***** came over and threaten me into turning the music down, i refused because heavy metal is made

to be enjoyed and ron said, have you been on any medication in your life, and axil said, medication, are

you calling me crazy, only crazy people take medication, and ron said, well, for what i heard, you might need

something to calm you down, and axil yelled out THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME, and ron said

maybe not, but you have to control your behaviour, axil told ron to get ****** saying, i am not like these

******* in here, i am a cool heavy metal fan who deserves a break, ron was prepared to break it for a while

but at dinner he yelled at the dinner table threatening to bash charlie, saying, you are crazy, you do know

that your not fucken charlie chaplin don’t ya, charlie said, leave me alone you idiot and except medication

and axil picked up a metal knife and started chasing charlie around with it saying come here ****

come here ya bleeding **** and charlie yelled out, HELP ME, HELP ME, the mad man is after me

and ron gave axil a shot of ****** and put him to bed and went to the nurses office saying axil needs

to be trialled on medication, he won’t like it, but we might have to convince to him, his behaviour was

disruptive and needs to be placed on a drug, so when the dinner dishes were picked up and they

bought out the sandwiches for supper, then ron bought out the medications and he had some risperidal

for axil, and when he reached axil, axil yelled so loud, I DON’T WANT ANY MEDICATION, THERE IS NOTHING

WRONG WITH ME, and ron said, yes you do, and you are going to take this medication even if i have to

force-feed this down your throat, and axil said, why do you care so much, all i was doing is playing loud music

there is nothing wrong with that, ron said, you got aggressive with the man, so the police bought you here

and while you are here, you must take medication, and as he did it, ron said, what is your favourite music

axil said, i like AC/DC and twisted sister and WASP and guns and roses, and that is where i got my name from

and ron gave him the medication with a glass of water and left the HDU and went to the pizza hut, to buy a super

supreme and retire to the couch to watch TV.

the child molestor gets captured in the psych ward



harry thumping was a simple guy who loved the quiet life, but there was an evil side

which made him grab kids and feel their *****’s or vaginas and tie them up to the

jungle jim, and each day the kids saw harry they all screamer hoping that harry

won’t grab them, but harry grabbed on child and tied him up and then he grabbed

another kid and said heh heh heh, and every time he went home, the voices said

your still like the kids matey, heh heh heh, which was just a voice, but it seemed

real for harry as the force was pushing harry down saying your still a young dude

your still a little young dude, i will keep treating you like this, till he stop grabbing children

in the park, you see you are a hooligan harry, you are a danger to our children, and harry’s dad

said, why are you a shy hooligan, harry, be like us, be a family person, don’t think moo cow and ships

on children’s legs, it seems weird, you can go to gaol for that, you need to understand we are looking after

you right, you can’t go around grabbing kids in parks, you could force a lot of good people to be *****

and you must lose that voice your still a young dude, because the kids are young dudes harry

you are an awful man and harry went out ******* with his father and grabbed a few children

at the park and this kid was devious and cunning and told the police and the police caught harry

and he had to spend the night in the lockup and harry asked the police how long will i be in here

and the police yelled out A LONG TIME, thinking that harry was a hardened criminal or something

and with harry’s phone call, he phoned his parents, and they were shocked, and said why would a son of mine

go around committing crimes like this, you see we love kids and i thought harry did too, and mr thumping gave

ron a call and said, i think my son harry is mental because he got caught for grabbing kids at the park, and

i want to pay you $400-000 to give my son the best help possible, i am sure my son is mental because we are

a law abiding family and ron went over to the police station and picked up harry and brought him over to the

HDU, where ron will talk to find out what his reason for his crime, and harry thumping said i have these evil

thoughts on sexually assaulting kids and ron asked why do you do this, do you hate kids, and harry said

no, i like kids, i just am playing a little game, where i slice their moo cows and rip their ships in half and

every time a kid passes me, he will run and say, ya can’t get me harry darry, i said, leave those old fogies on their own

aqnd come to my cage, where i will rip your moo cows and destroy your ships and i remember these boys who saw

me crawling through the drainpipes, but they did nothing to me there, but in my voices i can hear them teasing me

so i took revenge on kids at the park, and ron said do you realise you look like a phedaphile, and harry said

no, i didn’t then, but i do now, thanks for telling me, i am no phedaphile, i just wanted to get them kids back to what is being

said in my voices, ron asked as the lunches were being brought out, you do realise that the voices are not real, and

harry said no, but i do now, i think and harry joined big harry and tommy and patty roe and charlie chaplin for the big lunch

feast, and ron went to his computer to see what is wrong with harry thumping and then looked into risperidal which will slow his

urges down and it could also slow his body down too, but while he is after kids, we have to take our chances, and until the

medications kick in, we must put him in our isolation room, for tommy’s safety, but ron thought that was very extreme

seeing he likes talk therapy and medication, as it works much better, and after lunch, ron took harry thumping to the

isolation room to rest till the end of the day, it wasn’t easy, as harry was kicking and biting and scratching ron, like he

was a wild animal escaping from the zoo, and when they eventually took harry to the isolation room, he was given a ******

which put him to sleep for 5 hours, and then as soon as ron noticed he was up, ron brought his dinner in, and harry said, thanks to him

and after he ate dinner, he put the TV on in the isolation room, and watched the news, and when the news labelled him

a convicted pedaphile, he yelled for hours

GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT

GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT

I AM NOT A PEDAPHILE, I WAS MERELY PLAYING WITH THE KIDS

I AM NOT A PEDAPHILE

GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT

and ron came in and said, is there anything i could help you with, and harry said, the fucken world are saying i am a pedaphile

and i am a player, i play with kids, and ron said, yeah i realise you might’ve been playing but the kids didn’t want you to grab them

yiou touched these kids against their will, you were inappropriate and harry said, yeah maybe so, but i wasn’t meaning them no harm

and ron said, here is risperidal, this will slow down the urges you have, ok, and ron said remember that pedaphile label, is probably the press

and parents of the children, it’s not us, ok, so relax and we will come in and give you some supper and ron didn’t go at that point, he wanted

to take the supper into harry, because, the victims are always looking out for each other, and i don’t think harry is safe outside these walls

for the time being, and ron added that, it’s good he’s got his own TV, we might be able to get close to understanding what triggered him off

especially if he said he ain’t a pedaphile, and at supper time, ron took 8 sandwiches and a hot chocolate to harry, and he was watching

greys anatomy, and there was a pedaphile there as well, and harry said, i don’t mean to harm the kids, i was just playing, you see look

at this kid here, waiting for his mother to be finished her operation, now, if i gave kids like him happiness, it’lbe alright and ron said, no

it isn’t alright, it’s not appropriate you see, sure the kids will say yes, but they are really small and vulnerable and if i allowed that

i could be up on charges for allowing it and you will be in gaol for doing it and after the supper was finished, ron took it back to the kitchen

and clocked off and went to the pizza hut to buy a pizza and then went home to his couch, ate pizza and watched TV and then fell asleep

on the couch, thinking about what he could do for harry thumping

Chop n ***** it to bits
Just mix a little, then taste all da blenz
Dolby two sided cassette re-mix
Plastic record kinds, always my frendz
Trippin' like now, da way dat we do
Ya ***** nor crew just can't explain
Absolute phenomenal my man, whoa!
Leanin' on da switch, gave us instant fame

Doin' it on a regular, everyday
Even city folk can relate, in sum strange way
Slab kings rising from the dead
No motor, no nothin', nothin' but crew
Yellowstone candy, if dats wat ya fancy
Or black, bolly boyz, colored candy
Black sheriff riding *******, along da Southside
Giddy up, Giddy up, never you mind

Drinkin' drank, scissor or lean
Know dat we really can be mean
We in da ***** house, not in **** lockup
Get ya cups, then take a seat, backup
3'N da mornin' we ****
Sippin' on da syrup, smokin' on ya dope
Yo *****, Candy, lick it all up
Wat it does, is it gives da hood hope

You tell me in no
ambiguity to hold on the solitude.
Life was overrating the return
of a prodigal saint.

In wet distance
would you plant the seeds
of spiritual lockup?

Was it not two timing?
Riding on the waves
and starting roots music?

Shot in the back
of head, you wanted to die quickly
being sincere towards life.

Self-abandonment,
it were you, which was, for
what it was not.

I am counting the tongues
of flames, licking
the acid burned virtues.

DOES it feel like to be in love with you as a punishment? I repeatedly appealed, requesting that this verdict be exacerbated and expanded.

     Does it feel to love you as a prisoner? I am happy that you are a warden who is never far from my lockup.

     Does it feel to love you as a kind of forgiveness? I do not care, love still love, no matter proven guilty or free from lawsuits.

Broken glass shards poke out from healthy hearts;
Reopening wounds you assumed closed up.
Okay, okay, it’s fine to fall apart.

Overthink and make your mind want to dart;
Keeping thoughts hidden in a tight lockup.
Mornings are brand new, refresh and restart.

Always to blame but never question art;
It takes time to find a way to buildup.
Okay, okay, it’s fine to fall apart.

Positivity, easy to kick start;
Negativity, easy to blow up.
Mornings are brand new, refresh and restart.

Back to a place you thought you had depart;
Yourself will come back to fill up your cup.
Okay, okay, it’s fine to fall apart.

May be lost, but you are not a spare part;
Darkness just crawls back for a quick checkup
Okay, okay, it’s fine to fall apart.
Mornings are brand new, refresh and restart.

Many of the world's greatest Leaders throughout our tumultuous history have;
Many of  the insightful Revolutionaries in stink hole and glory hole countries have;
Many of the oppressed, disenfranchised and cheated also have.
Look to Lenin, Mandela, Gandi, Nehru, Havel, Bhutto, Ceausescu, Charles I, Papadopoulos, Lady Jane Grey, Louis XVI, Marcos, Milosevic, a pile of Mohameds, Mussolini, Nicholas II, Pinochet, Saddam, Marie Antoinette, Pope Clement V, Selassie, Baghdadi, Duvalier, and, let's not forget the author of Mien Kampf, Adolph the Tenderizer.
And what do they all have in common?
Some, before they became boldly notorious, and others, after they became criminally notorious.
Some, looked out their window and saw platforms being erected.
Others witnessed gallows, guillotines. posts and walls.
They all got some time in:
PRISON. GAOL. JAIL. COOLER. LOCKUP.  DUNGEON. KEEP. PEN. BASTILLE. CLINK. STATESVILLE. SLAMMER. STOCKADE. THE BIG HOUSE.
You get the idea.
His time will come.

could be more overall

who is counting no more


it is not good grammar

no capital letters or punctuation


two days of storms

more in lockup


he says we get used to things

and I thinks he is correct

day 350

All witness, if placed in separate room will see things in different perspective.
Which includes the races with counter view of certain events with law enforcement.

Logically, whites has been treated more kindly than many minorities.
History stands out with evidence.
White cries more for lenient with excuses than minorities.

Notice this in the facts, many minorities officers doesn't make the news for constant police brutality.
Although a few do cross that line too.

When minorities facts counter against the officers perspective.
There's always one white that support his views.
Why?
Mainly the have catered to kissing up friendly with them.

And most white cops visit more white establishments, in terms getting to know the community they serve.
And most minorities still feel they have a Bull Connor master white mentality.

Then most never been trained to handle various conflicts.
Say, conflicts of the races.
Most minorities feel black males are target by white male officers with this badge control logical thinking.

Voice tone, doesn't always gets your required action.
When many simply asking honest questions?
Threatening, with lockup doesn't always work.
When you the officers is acting like a ****.
Which many suspects do too.

But this is different perspective and different views happens.
But until officers realize, you place some of the best officers life in serious danger.

The scrawny, slump-shouldered kid in the sweatshirt
grabbed as many Double AA batteries as he could hug
into the waiting ***** of his faded, ratty hoodie
from the display rack at the pharmacy down the block.

He made a run for it, slipping out the sliding doors,
into the starless night splashed across that inky empyrean.
It wasn’t necessary at all, he got out of there scot-free.
No one noticed any pilfering until they did the nightly inventory.

But his world was small, and he went back the next day for a juice.
The manager who was being interviewed perfunctorily by a cop
recognized him from his review of the security footage.
The kid got caught unawares, was arrested on the spot.

When he bonded out, he had to repay his brother the surety
so he headed to the other corporate pharmacy across the street
and grabbed armfuls of cartons of cigarettes he knew he could sell
on the corner, for he had no other means of repayment.

He had no job, no car, no degree, no nothing, nada, nada, nada.
His blinkered world was circumscribed, limited,  hemmed in,
circled by how far he could walk, trudge in a blizzard.
He made it out the whooshing door, again faced flashing lights.

In that moment, as the booked him back in county lockup
behind the thick slab of plexiglass, the guard smirked,
“haven’t I seen you here before, just like a day ago?”
He then knew it was all hopeless, oh so hopeless, an endless cycle.

have you been to the wild wood?

not the one down the lane here
that is private and inaccessible

now

the one down the road by the estuary
is all mossy and twisty paths

which requires a lot of watching the step
and with that comes the discovery of

certain twigs of the right colour and design

during lockup we only saw ours
now come many varieties
to enjoy and at a later day

gather

for now we learn the paths
watch the ways of the wood

while opposite

the wood
men

balance carefully
in orange vehicles

gathering

The girls all made it out, though they’d scrambled:
Some wearing only the slinky tools-of-the-trade lingerie,
Others slightly more dishabille,
Clad in no more than a towel or men’s shirt
Offered up by a client in exchange
For not being caught in flagrante delicto.
There’d been no doubt who set the fire;
The boy had been right there the whole the whole time,
An had copped to the whole thing
(Without any prompting, extraordinary or otherwise)
To the sheriff’s boys on the spot,
Not that he would not have been first on the list of suspects,
As all and sundry knew he’d been barking mad
Since puberty had ambushed him,
With no one to mitigate the volcanic shock
Yoked upon his mind and body,
Each littered with thoughts and clumps of hair
Both unrequested and unwanted,
Mysteries he bore the burden of alone,
Not dreaming to inflict them upon neither mother nor father
Nor the preacher at the hard-shell Baptist church
(The boy invariably in the front pew,
Alternately scowling and leering as the preacher
Railed against liquor and cards and fornicatresses.)
The sheriff had, frankly, no clue in hell
Just what to do with the boy,
So he’d kept him in the county lockup
While they decided whether to try him as an adult,
Send him to the boys’ school out near Valmeyer,
Or just send him back to his parents
In the hope they could knock some sense into him,
But he’d hooted and howled and pounded the walls so much
They’d sent him to the juvy bughouse down in Carbondale,
After which he’d pretty much disappeared to myth and memory,
Save for the occasional regretful opinion
That he should have burned the house further outside town
(What with it being no more than a glorified barn,
Plus the girls there were a decidedly unclean lot,
Having continued to service the Cardinals’ minor leaguers
From across the river in Keokuk,
Even after they started to sign black boys)
And the story, though its veracity a subject of debate its ownself,
Of how he’d masturbated while the house burned,
Spilling his seed onto the burning embers
Until, seeing his flaccid, doomed member in his hand,
He’d broken down into a fit of inconsolable crying,
Beyond hope, beyond any possible reclamation.

I am made up of thousands of tiny cracks in composure

I have a scar on my right wrist from a pair of handcuffs, when a cop was a little more than cordial with me
I've got at least two from running face first into counter tops or door frames..
I could name four off the top of my head that my ***** ex girlfriend left me, they look like shaky trails on a treasure map. maybe her excitement got the better of her, but I got her best..and worst
I've got a constellation of pin ****** across my shoulders of acne scars that'll never heal right after my seventh trip to lockup
And now that I've gained and lost my full body weight in five months, I've got three dozen pretty pink stretch marks I'm afraid won't ever turn white

And I guess besides that I have whole novels written down my sleeves.
Most of my arm doesn't even look like an arm anymore
And the only good I can say about that is, I was 17 the last time I had to cover up my "mental health days" with bright blue mickey mouse band aids
that's four years of wearing my wrist band that reads "I have healed now"
My patchwork is messy, I have to admit, but it holds together nicely

And now that they're all just gentle interruptions..nothing gory or too scary to see..I wear my own skin so comfortably
I'm not proud of the disaster I left on my own body, but I'm not ashamed that I made it out alive either.

"I have healed now" but I was there when you burned your own house down to try to feel warm again, and it's been four years but I remember the way that cold touched my bones, I wear this scrapbook of knife work so you know that the good days are coming, one day they will only be scars, one day they will only be memories
even if it takes time

i.

There isn't much light when you're inside,
Or at least in terms of natural light,
And if you're looking for a star to guide you
Through your thirty days, you're even more out of luck
Than you were getting here in the first place,
(In my case appropriating--almost-- a turkey breast
The Saturday after Thanksgiving,
Figuring no tired, overworked checkout girl
Would ever miss it; **** poor luck, nothing more)
The windows too narrow to climb out,
Too high to smash in anger or frustration.
Still, you can catch a bit of the outside world
The sky (this once, at least) more blue
Than mid-December has any right being
In this grubby, hardscrabble corner of northwest P-A,
***** old lake to the west,
Endless logged-out hills to the east,
Never-quite-boomed mill towns due south,
Up north Indian land where bootleggers and number-runners
Holed up once upon a time, the Senecas
Now having gone legit, Beach Boys and Barbara Mandrell
Fronting shell games which bear the Feds' seal of approval.
This is the Galilee to which I shortly return.

ii.

Time gets syrupy in the hole, moving slowly, lazily,
Fighting the laws of Newton and Einstein at every turn,
And when the ******* about lawyers,
The oft-repeated and off-key done-me-wrong songs
And respectful if somewhat impatient
Supplications to Jesus for speedy deliverance
Are no longer sufficient distraction,
A man begins to think and remember.
I met Easy Terry E. (so he called himself)
In the city lockup in Troy, or maybe it was Schenectady
(I have, after all, mosied up and down the Eastern Seaboard,
On both sides of the bars)
And let me tell you, for the only time in my born days
I wished these small-city holding cells had solitary,
As Terry E. not only had a chalkboard-scrape falsetto
Which constituted aggravated assault on the eardrums,
But also a predilection for non-stop yammering
About nothing and everything, punctuating his blather
With frequent high-pitched insistence
That he was a hermaphrodite,
And he would frequently taunt the guards by yowling
Baby, I got a lady's equipment down here.
Maybe you want to strip search me, honey.
(Such high spirits led to an inevitable outcome;
I heard a jailer up in Utica decided to quiet him down
By sticking Terry's head in a toilet, the swirlie
Ending up a minute or two longer than was advisable)
But I had been able to more or less ignore him,
As to that point he'd concentrated on ******* off
Everyone in the cells with the exception of me,
But my turn came soon enough
Oh, don't worry Peter, darling, I know your type.
Different, smarter than the rest of us
He all but sang in  my direction.
Mebbe so, I grumbled, just a few fluky bad breaks
Here and there, that's all.
Terry laughed and clapped his hands,
Poor sweet thing, a victim of that old lousy karma.
There was a philosopher…
And he stopped for a moment,
Seemingly trying to pick a name from the air
(Not that he could see anything floating in front of him,
As he wore horn-rims with lenses as thick and opaque
As the headlights of a '72 Skylark.)
So you're just taking a break here until your luck turns, mmm?
I laid back against the wall,
Hands behind my head and grinned.
Yep, I replied, things are due and then some
To start going my way.
Terry giggled once more, Well, you've got things
All figured out then!
Good, evil, right, wrong--just snapshots of the roulette wheel
In some infinitesimal sliver of time, and all we can do
Is put our chips down and hope the croupier is playing it straight.
Well, now that you've finally figured all that out,
I suspect you won't see the wrong side of the bars again.
And with that he turned his back on me,
Paying me no mind whatsoever
Until they turned me loose the next morning
With the stern admonishment
To trouble the good citizens of the Capitol District no more,
And as I think back to that moment,
I suspect he may not have been telling the whole truth
As he saw it.

iii.

And so I will be released from this small cell
In this small red-brick building
In the midst of this equally small red-bricked town,
And I will bypass the bars
With their potential for a cheap hustle
And various types and flavors of low-hanging fruit,
And I will dispense with a seat on some sad Trailways bus,
Seeking a ride (thumb hopefully, defiantly
Pointing upward to the sky)
On the old Grand Army Highway,
Then north on the Buffalo Road
And I will clamber down the embankment
To the Kinzua Dam and, shedding socks, shoes, and clothing,
And hang the cold,
I shall wade into the water, acclimating ankles and washing feet,
The dive headlong under the water's surface
To arise cold, cleansed, ready to move onward.

silent fragrant friday night
in my stuffy suburbia
as i walk
bourbon street via dolorosa,
dolores on a dotted line.
warm-lit windows -
amber eyes of empty houses
dreaming of prize family.
might as well be staring from space,
floating in the airless vastness,
my whole life in the palm of my hand.
4 months of nominal flight
with my brain in a lockup
going
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA­AAAAAAAA

early sunday


traffic back to usual from lockup

which came quiet


we went down along the river

a new route to hear the cockerel

to find the little flowers

plus evidence from the night before


she remarked that animals spread disease

as do people just as much as we have noticed lately


they say they feel safe

yet

that don’t mean they are



the zoo is back open again today

Rough seas assuage
subtle fog
faces concealed with cloth
awaken to a ghostly city
albeit, hesitant movement, unsteady
as prisoners' death rise
distance demands

One fervor to fly
like cooped up birds of prey
takes priority over all else
flocks of birds' salvation

Emotions unbolted
hurry to taste the rain
soak the sun
sense the buds, smog
sweat of the city

Bizarre is the normal for us
rousing, prior to lockup
as it is, eager, a fresh smell
touch, passion, like strangers anew

even caged a bird will sing
knowing that constraint
cannot lockup its voice

Mama died
Writing a will or her obituary
I think I got the two mixed up
So, I went to the bank
To ask for a reading of the will
They told me that the will
Was in the process of being processed
I asked them how can someone be dead
And their deed be in a rut
They told me, she hadn't died
She was in the hospital with her jaw broken shut
Neighbors heard some barking and shouting

I landed in lockup for a first-degree
With my injured knuckles
Knuckles is also my dog...