just call me lucky #1

A.

nerve gas appetites
as shouting angry ghosts
seeping in with mustard and wine
reaching for the white fool
struggling with your fables
the sunlight falls on hats and shoes
we burn in the furnace of narcisism
your pots against the walls
still dripping with sultry
we live underground with the spiders
dreaming of the machine's suicide
imperfect love
the lion eats my mind


the national pathos
original naked soul
overcoming your gravity
radiant lustful faces
friendly shades
an unfinished granite

beaten by the guards
we couldn't recognize him
his face was swollen like stereo
the solitude of a thousand kisses
the glass jam jar
reflecting the little light
I want to sing of your unexpected presence
the girls all got in a line
the day placed the animal heads
like some tiny sacrifices

this gracious grace grows
she asked for more Christmas music
calling me govenor
desire does exist on the Siene
it cannot be found anywhere
we have all looked
and did not find it
I touched your smooth mouth
my mental haze
a blue transciption
drops of feelings
my words piled up
my lovers stealing my clarity
knuckles against the tombs
this map of the stars is useless

listening to the paranoia
they dream behind the counter
boxes stacked up to the ceiling
the song of the cities in our pockets
with a sad headed univese
we sang like whales
in the depths of our misunderstanding
we sang in bus stations and landromats
reading old rusty fliers
with mustashed miners
holding the shephard's hook

born of the pungent
new footprints and another star
unfolding death
like white hair pilgrims
as they traced the cosmos
digging in the pit
honey hole prayers
dividing the market
flying down the neon highway
an old border town junkie
eating the madness from dogs

B.

a fugitive horror creeps in
looking into the image, our bodies
joy or terror?
no compass for this world
finished and standing at a dead end
I have seen and done the futile
in the drugstore neon light
we considered it to be ordinary
laughing in the living room
the night sky saw that there was nothing to steal

golden hairs in my comb
an empty bottle of jack on the floor
guided by the eternal beat
my worst fears
whisper in my ear
the outline is still there
the cracked blue wall
he had died so many times before

with artificial faith
taking a bite out of the young
the blather of ghoul's
kiss the tip of that hydroplane
I open one eye looking for the sweet again
riding in the judge's limosine
we are telling him about the wild we inherited

she was afraid to dig a little dirt
listening to the wood peckers
burning towards your doors
show that little girl how to push the mower
the cross had faded on my arm
an old drunk and new years
the bouncing up and down as you put on your shoes
everthing is about a piece of ass
engine scream and mountain top
she needs to see a doctor

we burn the sulfur and the smoke
we powder the hinges to our minds
the needle point is a highway
transcendance is a nightly dance
this must be your middle-class insanity
it takes a toll on everyone
you would crack open the trees
and drink the syrup of the witch
black coffee for your native saint
we pile up the stones to throw
I would shave if someone would play for me
some utopian jazz
Neal would laugh evertime we would say cock

we built bodies with blind eyes
worked 10 years at the factory
we told everyone that we were teaching them to see
it was such an embarrasssment
I can still hear you yelling at your mother
telling her to stop, mom stop
dreaming of abscence
you are sitting at a small table
looking at old newspapers
the good lord is speaking into your ear
he is smoking a joint and telling you
about the old days when fish could be divided
he has a lonely voice

rule of three

1. knowledge -
a.what do I know?
b. why do I know what I know? What life events or experiences happened that put me in a position to know what I know?
c. How is it that I know what I know? what specific circumstance led to me knowing what I know?


2. thought -
a. what do I think?
b. why do I think what I think?
c. how is it that I think what I think?


3. Emotion -
a. What do I feel?
b. why  do I feel like I feel?
c. how is it that I feel the way that I feel?

Roxy Painne and the medicine show

a mechanical tree in Kansas
dreams of  machine death
first there is rust
and then there is pressure

melting it down
to feed the birds
you thought it was a matter
of right and wrong

everybody is talking backwards
I stand on my head
and recite the declaration of independence
a man is checking my feet for wounds
he says he is a priest
but his breath smells like a pedophile

sick dogs
pick up the broken heads
hide them back into the gloom
we tie them up together
a shared infinity
as real as we can get it
it was a solid job
everyone said so
a solid world

we thought we were building America
we painted ourselves into the classical paintings
there we are in the street scene, with the smoke
and the canon balls exploding
we are imigrants, fresh off the train
looking for god in the theaters and saloons

the surprise of the death
shocked by the barricades
we close in on ourselves
eating our own flesh
hangers hang from wooden pegs
a keg of gunpowder
matches strewn across the floor
a pile of indescribable rubbish
no secrets here
everything adds up to nothing

Julia with her sons
poor imigrant homes
the sign says no dumping
there is a canon in the field
it sits there alone
moving it's hands
searching for a shell

read to me with your thick ancient accent
shirley temple between your legs
the river rolls up and says hello
it wants to throw nickels against the wall
you say successs is New York
blotches from the sun
the pale rider
why is it so cold?

in progress

I found your doll next to the heap of scrap metal
just out of the temple
freshly used
disruptive justice
from your fingertips
an Easter candle with bullet holes
he was a poor shot,
bleary-eyed and shaking off the dust
and we escaped out the window
we worked all day in the fields
pulling the carrots out of the ground
a home for your wilderness
a shrine by the roadside
plastic flowers and a plastic Jesus
I am covered in fur
I live in the wilderness

my eyes are open
they are cloudless
like the dirt between my fingers
the rooms creak with memories of the past
losing the will to live
the feathers of the fat rooster
worthy of a tear
you use them to cast yor spell
yellow temples of hashish, blissful
we settled into the cave of gold
this is war
sinking our teeth into the green leaf
we were no longer hidden by the obscure


Dusty in a party dress
joining the spiritual with the meloncholy
there is something there in the blue night
waiting as a wild hog
my balls are omnivourous
they want to eat the neighbor lady's cat
it is true that I came here with a wagon load of explosives
they were for the resistince
now, everybody wants to get along
to check their portfolio over the phone

in the back of the van, we fold the papers
just like uncle mike had taught us
this was before he left for the war
and returned missing something
he left a part of himself with the dead
now he drinks cheap whiskey and fights at the bar

sick with nostalgia
a night with dung and hammock
the small clouded sky
we played cards and smoked clove cigarrettes
the dwarf wouldstel them from his work

the cracker box suprise

wasting time
waiting for thoughts
that never were born
the city dump of my broken heart
broken glass and old newspapers
a shit, shower, and shave
there goes my main lady
she works at a liquor store
she makes enough for bacon and cigarrettes

in the center of the room
lives the hollow voice
it has fallen from heaven
in a beautiful flame
it speaks of the end of all time

this is the real world
another wheel turns
fortune spins its web
we are caught by reality
victims of progress
victims of our rituals

the worms eat the beautiful
there is a mountain of garbage
outside my window
there are hundfulls of unhappy
the heart tries to find a difference
no familiar face
no familiar body

this was the common age
we shared the smoke and the bottle of rum
no more blisters on my fingers
wandering around lost
wandering the streets
like a piece of shit
a toast for the dead
we meet the dead everywhere
in your Soho markets
in your tumble weed streets

exotic cafe
haunted by legend
attracking flies
elegant and striking
you were having a thing
for Jackson Pollock Shoes
selling your vacum cleaners door to door
it was all so grand and tortured
sirlion burgers
an expandable teen idol
a unique place for self

you thought of them as an equalizing force
crispin glover chilled to the bone
ingredients of the machine
love and sex
drug addicted and troubled
loudly removing myself from the room
I am fundamentally abscent
I am not here
recycling the ritual of death
there are so many forms
making it weak, taking the strength out of it
I loaded one cartridge after another

the alarm clock is ringing
bared feet with eyebrows
she has a big ass
sits in the hole
pats around the sides
she is the scarecrow

bullet holes in the wall
the last execution
desolate rooms
making plans
to extract the needed thing
the grocery boy turns into a thief

dollars and wine
to take the taste of stale beer
a ritual of grilled meat
we listen through the paper thin walls
there is a preacher asking his wife for forgiveness
she drags a trunk out of the building
it sounds heavy, full of crime
we have filled it with the sins of our fathers
we are working on the syntax of the apocolypse
and yesterday's love

assassinate the verdant heavens
take and simulate
accentuate the impossible
insinuate that only fools know each other
associate
interrogate
retrobate
instigate
masturbate
infiltrate
particulate
procrastinate