canto 1
I call her daddy my own. He felt nothing for her when the time had come for him to do something he fell and she felt nothing at all, nothing whatsoever. It is a cruel world, mateys, and the best thing you can do is curse God and die. Hard to ditch the pity act. Ditching is denying and there is much truth to the lie.

canto 2
Their eyes bubble in the open air, they fill to bursting and scrub until they scratch. **** drips. It's a sound that I will never forget. A sight that should be reserved for the dream world...a stench unrivaled.

canto 3
The Chinese bomber is persistent. One has to wonder why he bothers at all, seeing that his attempts have been futile up until the present moment. It's shoe week, so I guess he has his reasons. But this has gone on for far too long. If there were a way for me to stop him I guess it wouldn't hurt to try.

canto 4
Random parking lots and good God what have they done? I thought it was all over, these thoughts were through, these voices are mad. Usually it's not as upsetting. Your car door gets stuck, you know, it happens all the time. It happens every day, still you never get used to it, do you? You're always stuck inside that ugly mirror.

canto 5 (the "missing canto")

canto 6
I want to tell the world how good you are. Amazing and incredible. **** and *******. Talented and unrestrained. Honey nut Cheerios. You give it but I have a sneaky feeling you would rather be lost in a dream. A banal night vision. Comparably

canto 7
I want to make it better. I want to see you smile. What can I do? You are my own heart ripped from my chest and given wings to fly. Your smile is a lost treasure I would do anything to get it back to give it back to you, I didn't mean to take it away from you. You push me up against a stone wall and you don't even realize you're doing it. That my soul cries and prays for something real, for some kind of explanation or even an excuse would be fine right now. Instead I float. Not the way I like to float. I drift and crash, a dizzying spiral out of control, confused and dumbfounded by the realization that none of it means a ******* thing. What I thought was love turned out to be a jester's game, a joker's trick. You don't need me anymore.

canto 8
I hide myself behind a blanket of stone where you cannot spit fireballs at me without cracking an egg. Cold breeze tickles my news. It's not too chilly in this room. But the fireballs warm things up. "Blanket of stone"...what a stupid expression. Why do you have to be so hateful to me? How many times can a man say I'm Sorry without losing an eyeball?

canto 9
I have no right to feel the way I do. I don't think I can control it, though. This is one of the ****** up idiosyncrasies of my confused existence. Vanish without a trace and look for clues in the alphabet soup.

canto 10
Weariness is like a slug, a giant slug, a parasite infesting my body, hanging on and hanging out. A fire down below that waits for my imagination. My sleep patterns are getting ****** up but I'm not sure if I was sleeping or just dreaming I was awake. Under the impression that it doesn't matter? Well, you are a stone fool for thinking that way. You've never experienced the life-changer. Else you would know. But all I want to know is this: Why am I afraid of sleep?

canto 11
Things get slow. Patience is required, but I don't have any. Why does it have to be that way, o cruel dictator? You get a kick out of this ****, don't you?

canto 12
Spill your guts, maties, it's the only way you'll ever come out of this situation with even a shard of dignity intact. I know it's early and you haven't had time to adjust your eyes and your wrists for this delicate task. Go! Do it now before you lose confidence.

canto 13
We took a holiday and it was so nice. She stood there on that stage without a stitch of clothing on her voluptuous body. Baby, don't you let your hairdresser down

canto 14
Who doesn't love breakfast? Me, actually.

canto 15
I can't help it if I'm changing every day. Ask the question later, maybe my answer will be suitable. I don't think I can help you because I'm not like anyone you've ever known or will ever know or can ever know or would ever want to know and why do you keep wanting to know where I've been? I've been right here. Right where I've always been. Haven't moved a muscle.

canto 16
This is the 16th and I should be proud but the apathy seeps from my very pours. That little ******* was about to take a **** in the corner. When I picked him up to take him to the paper he dropped a couple of turds on the floor beneath me. I guess he couldn't wait.

canto 17
Sometimes things change so much that it's hard to tell if they're for the best or the worst. It is at these times that I enjoy a good evening on the water, enjoying my yacht and eating peanuts from another man's sack. Salted peanuts with pickled eggs and deviled ham with a side order of angel food crack.

canto 18
My wrist hurts and I've lost the will to **** socks.

canto 19
The lawn chair has been placed under extreme scrutiny. It's rocking motion is being scientifically tested and arranged for packaging. The physics of this miracle are in the process of logistical infiltration. You'd be surprised at how useful a rocking lawn chair can be in a world tangled in war. It's a good place to relax. For paranoids, that is.

canto 20
Bird feathers of a different post, it has never made a lick of sense and the promises made were broken. Who was that man in the bird suit? Why was he making all those funny noises? I'll have to investigate. Lawd have mercy I do believe I've **** my pants.

canto 21
Don't come crying to me if you feel misunderstood. I can read right through you and I know that all you're doing is fishing for a compliment. You will not receive one from me, Salty Dog, not because you don't deserve one. You probably do. But not from me. Perhaps you should take up your case with Hoda Kotbe. Who knows but that you might look really, really good on television. Just remember to feed the dog before you leave. He gets hungry. But he doesn't miss you. I don't mean to break your heart, but the rational man within me is very convincing when he tells me you are a real pickle.

canto 22
Those comments are found particularly offensive in light of the situation in the Gulf. You need to regulate your interest in beans. One day you'll fly to the Middle East looking for peace and all you will find are demons like the ones who raised so much hell in "The Exorcist". You don't want that, do you? Settle for Ranch Style and leave the diplomacy to the masters.

canto 23 (the "lost" canto)
I wouldn't wish this on a barrel full of monkeys. They say that time heals all wounds and I suppose it does. No "if"s, "and"s or "but"s. Don't believe me? Listen to 'em snarl. They're hungry for blood and sandwiches. I owe you nothing, so perhaps I'll send you a good time from New York. You gotta love a trapeze artist.

canto 24
I'm trying my best to change the world but the fact remains that the human race does not deserve the kind of tender loving care that I'm well known for. This holiday event will not include high temperatures or the kind of crap the weather people try to sell you.

canto 25
******* Valhalla. This is how it always seems to wind up, isn't it, Pinnochio? Just when you think things are getting better, BAM, ****** up again.

canto 26
You know you've reached a severe point of boredom when you switch to the Daystar Network and find yourself singing along to the bogus faith healers. Pecans on that one, please.

canto 27
Plug away, Sailor. Keep plugging away. When you get there you can say you plugged away with as much vim and vigor as a much larger man. Slough it off, O Great one. Keep sloughing it off. When you get there you can say you sloughed it off with as much skill and empathy as one might expect from a lizard. Or a monster frog.

canto 28 (the "twenty-eighth canto")
Come, look at my incredible collection of dice. Right next to my collection of mice. Next to that bowl of rice. Sugar and spice, everything nice. My head's full of lice. Don't think twice, just break the ice. Pup your puppy dog in the freezer.

canto 29
My toes are cold and so is my nose. I should be concerned with this situation but, strangely, I could care less. There are so many other, more important things to worry about. Like how many frosted flakes are in that box over there. And is there any milk left? And is it the real deal or that phony 2%? 1%? Skim milk is even worse. If it gets down to that point I'll save the money and use tap water. Don't think for a moment that I won't.

canto 30
Colored pencils expect risque answers to tame pencils. Unfortunately the quality of superior eggs is relative to the ice cream that has dripped down your shirt. You're starting to smell bad and I would highly recommend soaking in vinegar for an hour or six.

canto 31
There are times when I wish the planet would implode and **** every living thing into a void. I don't wanna die, but if I'm gonna I want everyone else to come with me. I'm tired of hearing about God's word. But even more so John Hagee's special gift for your love offering of any amount, the super duper Bible verse audio player, with selected passages read by the man himself. You can leave him behind.

canto 32 (the "same as the 31st" canto)
There are times when I wish the planet would implode and **** every living thing into a void. I don't wanna die, but if I'm gonna I want everyone else to come with me. I'm tired of hearing about God's word. But even more so John Hagee's special gift for your love offering of any amount, the super duper Bible verse audio player, with selected passages read by the man himself. You can leave him behind.

canto 33
Yazaa, yazaa, yazaa I told you I was gonna steal that car. You didn't think I had the guts, did you? But look who's laughing now! That guy with the big flower in his pocket must really feel like **** right now, realizing that his awesome vehicle is no longer in his possession. Maybe get an ice cream cone, maybe feel better.

canto 34
Come out of your hidey-hole, scurvy dog. Rat scabies be breathing down your neck and it's cold and old and you'll do as you're told. Pinch back that stray lock of hair, O Queen of Sheba. You shall spend the rest of your days parked on a green chariot overlooking Lake Erie

canto 35
You could have given me a reason for the season. Instead you had nothing to offer but a huge chunk of pepperoni that had mold growing all over it. Admittedly it was delicious but surely you could have come up with something a bit more expressive of the tender emotions I inspired within your fluttering heart.

canto 36
The prospect of a news reporter calling you a crack head based on information gleamed from your Internet social network profiles is quite terrifying, but when you tie the noose you might as well make sure it was time well spent. It's a shame you shaved your head because the painful truth is that now you bear a striking resemblance to Telly Savalas.

canto 37
Energy. That's what is required. And not just the kind of energy you can get from sugar, caffeine and butter. If it were that easy you could be **** sure that the Catholic Church would be the first in line to canonize it. They have a burning desire to fall off the wagon. "Which wagon?" you may ask. The one with the ice cream, of course. Don't be a fool.

canto 38 (a "short" canto)
If boredom is a sea in which one can easily sink into and drown in, I must be swimming the Atlantic.

canto 39
When the dog barks like that it's a sure bet that he's been neutered in the last few days. It's a sad and sorrowful sound that is only recognized by **** knockers in the deep woods.

canto 40
I could stare at the bars of this prison for the rest of my life. Okay, that's *******.

canto 41
Who was it that once said time is the only reliable concept in the universe? Oh, wait. That was me

canto 42
They tell you to wait. That's what it's all about. Wait, wait, wait, wait until I can almost feel my hair turning gray. The estimated time is currently number 7 the estimated hold time is 4 minutes, thank you for your patience. Well, you're welcome, comrade.

canto 42
I've only to surrender you to the world, lie down and wait for it to crush me.

canto 43
If I can only keep it together...if I can only hold it together this one time, I know the gravy train will come my way. Would it do any good to pray? This isn't the first time that enlightenment and illumination have reared their blessed heads. Would that I could live within them this time.

canto 44
Have I told you lately how much I hate to wait? Thinketh not that the Chair has lost it's financial imbalance, the very thread of chocolate that brought you here. It is still a very important and, some would say, a hot topic regardless of the amount of grime, sweat, blood and V8 juice is spilled on it's ivory shaped pear seat.

canto 45
The shadows turn into cloaks, dark itchy woolen capes that enfold the nothingness beneath them, the nothingness of being. You could have worked a little longer and a little harder on that one, amigo.

canto 46
It's been awhile but my wrist still hurts and I've written the word "moon" on the back of my hand with a Sharpie.

canto 47
I'm movin' this **** to WordPress. No I'm not. **** WordPress. Press WordFuck. Word FuckPress. On and on and on and on and not the least bit clever or entertaining. But I do like steaks.

canto 48
I swear to God I wish I had never taken that first hit of ****. Look what it's done to me. After so many years, I guess I was only fooling myself. Or maybe I was so dumbed down that it didn't seem to matter. But now things have changed. And I can do nothing about it. Dump a can of Campbell's Chunky Soup into a bowl, throw it into the microwave, let 'er go for three minutes, let 'er cool down in the oven for a couple more, stir in a quarter cup of Tabasco sauce, let 'er cool down for a little while longer, mix in a ****-load of Cheez-It reduced fat crackers and then go to ******* town. Go to ******* town, I say, **** the stoner days.

It matters not what lies behind
Or what may lie ahead,
When waking dreams and evil things
Reside in each man's head.
They rattle chains and haunt our brains,
They feast upon our fears;
Consuming joy and hope and trust,
And all that we've held dear.
We hear their cries and stoke the fires,
Descend with them to Hell;
We share their shame, but not in blame,
Then fight amongst ourselves;
'Tis rare one sees
That which he flees
Is but a timeless mirror.
From brilliant men, to hapless hearts,
To wicked, wretched souls...
They are no more, nor less, than we;
But fractions of one whole.
Though he may lack in this or that
While others seem to reign;
With better looks, or smarts in books,
More power, wealth or fame;
We mustn't bend to arrogance,
Nor envy, just the same...
For he who dims his brothers light
Still hath no brighter a flame;
Instead he lessens all our sight
And squanders his own gains.
Have faith in ALL that's here below
Was ordered, first, above.
And suffers much, the eldest man,
Outliving all he's loved;
While rich men live, as paranoids,
And poor men toil in pain.
The simple man, a laughing stock,
And genius feels insane.
While beauty's forged the darkest hearts,
As shallow, they became.
And lives of ease have yielded sloth
And left good bodies lame.
So none can measure, nor divide,
The worth of Moon and Sun....
Like bird and beast,
As Earth to Sea,
Dependent on the One.
The seasons change,
As well they should,
And ne'er can we forget....
We're nigh but little cosmic spokes
Whom churn the Infinite.
And so these planets and their stars
Keep wheeling 'round the sky,
The watchmen keeping track of time,
Our souls all keeping ties.

I feel better out of love.
Clingy as I am,
It's something I never made use of.

Love drags us down,
Paranoids us,
Like a loner in a ghost town.

Yes, it makes my legs shake,
As if I were standing on low
Ground during an Earthquake.

Perfection at my finger tips,
They always leave,
And I just bite my lips.

"It is better to have loved and lost,
Than never to have loved at all,"
They say, eyes glossed.

That would be true if you were gone,
But my mind,
lost in its own way, can't move on.

To be in love
With a figment
Is something I cant get rid of.

This is why I feel better out of love,
Clingy as I am,
It's something I never made use of.

Jimmy's pad
was a rockin' place.
Like small mountain ranges,
mounds of pinkish-flake
covered the mirror.

His triple beam
balanced baggies
twenty-four seven,
while his harem of ******
went from door to door,
snorting huge lines &
******* massive *****
of the wide-eyed,
strung-out paranoids.

These vampires
always seemed
on the run,
jonesing, looking
out of the windows
'till four am,
sick for more
of the blow.

every morning deafening our ears to the tick tick clock

We wake still wandering in the dreams  overnight

Cleaning and purging out yesterdays twisted tales

We begin a new today yet embracing the glorious

Story of our grandma and mellifluous lullaby of the Past NIGHT



Ringing are the bells of our doors

The van man- so we call him the boogie man of our dreams

Somehow manages to find our home and takE us away

Some have tears not to go  & some joining to be with

These brave and tiny comrades



Not to forget the audacity of ours while

We wave our hands to those who rose us from casket

Till the end of time and then  …. van man taking a devious U turn

Some still crying ,some trying to devour sandwiches

Some inconcoction of  food and mind and heart

That genuinely defines innocence



Then finally the squeak of gate that challenges our today

That rough building in grey white façade and the nerdy beings

We always try to keep them in sidelines

All set up nicely to churn out a typical school day if its YET another

Soon the dictators take over ,their sharp eyes weeding out

The imperfections and anomalies ,Even the overly dressed are ruled out

The morning blossoms , like the denizens of a cavalry – daddy’s second wife

We make a perfect geometry .

Standing in queue wondering what would happen next

Ears and minds both listening to the chirping of birds around

Nose tasting the delicious breeze of  hot noodles from others satchel

But our eyes watering and stuck at blabbering of an old fat lady on the platform

Our hands made to handcuffed by these megalomaniac

And some heads are down and eyes shut..

All waiting for this “*******” Elvis to leave the show





A loud ring of bell that curtains a mundane beginning

Ahead we march with our hands on back to  Azkabans

Only to be released after  “capital punishments”

As expected the class is empty inviting us to fill

With ruckus and impudence but being innocent at the same time

Some gibbering ,some giggling ,some drawing on a million dollar wall

All have gathered to make the blasphemous walls and time



Sordid tales in the  chapters, are beautified with snakes and ladders

Lady in white dress in the front page is embellished with the imaginations of a pretty girl

Covers in the books are the experimental laboratories to Some

Its The last page where we begin reading today

Some sees in the magic in Turning the pages in seconds with thumbs

And how they see the indents and letters  dancing

Nothing is real here except the paranoids who are convening the class

Rushing to empty the bowels are some, and some plundering others Bread roll

Some just talking to selves ,troubling the maids wetting the floor

All but none complain.. Such harmony the nature gifts us

Waiting for the last Run that ends the cruelty of today

Because of which we know what that noon Twelve looks like on the clock

All eyes forgetting the day’s animosity finally yearning to be once again

In the BoOgie man’S  Van that shall drive us Home

Back to the Cuddle of Mommies and Daddies



We “WERE “ THEIR PRIZED POSSESSION ,

Aren’t We?

[war footing]

a parrot
sawed in half
by peace
or quiet

~

[ballerina]

dog whistle, nothing’s church-bell:

my mother, handcuffed

still worships
wasp

~

[mothers, acoustic]

we are maybe
inside
an Ohio
factory

childless and ready

for a refresher
on orphan
etiquette-

word is
there came
a cow
from the nothingness
that drank
nowhere’s
father

and sleep
is death’s
babysitter

~

[darker farms]

food
saved
from a house
fire

–

the cult following of nostalgic paranoids

–

a star, this deer

as it prays
for moth

~

[annihilatives]

the first murdered woman was not killed by her sister.

stop me
if you’ve not
heard

~
~

also, {name calling} is my newest self-published poetry collection

it is available on Lulu

book preview on site is book entire

free PDF is available. also, free hardy copy available for review.  both upon request.

poems, from it, are below:

~
~

[entries for listen]

mirror
to window
we’re moving
away

~

[entries for fixation]

the name of this scar
is
they couldn’t hide
the canoe

mom says there’s an oven
at the bottom of every lake

that I was born asleep
surrounded
by toe touchers

is art
world-building
for the geeks
of grief

have you crucified

starfish

~

[entries for children]

remember, it is dark and memory is god painting with the blood of those he would create

Once our illness meant possession
Sons and daughters of evil conception
In Bedlam's squalor we were a zoo
We shared the ovens of Auschwitz too

People don't know we are sick
Just because some think too quick
People know we've little recourse
Paranoids are wrong, of course

And try to tell it to the police
They'll ask you if you took your meds
It's a great way to lose your lease
Everything's all in our heads

We cannot carry guns you see
The Second Amendment doesn't apply
So our peers are left to die
In this great society

After there was Stellazine
They kicked so many to the curb
Community support was lean
With policy absurd

They had to use their deadly force
Without a Taser, a life was lost
They'll be cleared in court, of course
Yet, now we know what Tasers cost

No substance or depth to them
yet they attempt to minimize
they are the shallows in shallow

Lightweight minds in flimsy holds
reasoning and comprehension limited
incapable of progressing standards
mired in the instabilities of their status quo

The belligerent beasts emerges uncouth
front-line Activism with illogical whims
the paranoids manifests the blame culture
its all the faults of the elitist the entrepreneurs

Riled, roused by ignorance and complexes
social insecurities and limitations victimizes
herded and programmed Bolsheviks snarling
beasts with no substance or depth, simpletons

Over here their now leader is a millionaire
as was the two before the previous one
all privately educated, am alright jacks
Putin has wealth and riches beyond measure
Xi Jinping lives in a mansion in Savile Row suits

Our front line losers are fighting neighbours
talking **** and doing turds as they become dungs
ignorance is a disease and how they infect each-other
power to the people, solidarity, revolution, yadda yadda
Oh, what a pity,...No substance or depth to them