hollywood junkie

just woke up to a sun settling in for sleep

          trying to remember last night

                  

i’m a hollywood junkie

          hung-over as shit

i still hit the weights

          and do an hour of cardio

 

have to look good

          in this hollywood nation

my ego is a creation

          of flickering screens and magazines

 

been thinking about a beer

          since halfway through my weight routine

the dark streets are calling my name

          though i’m not part of any local scene

 

i roam alone

silence my phone

take my flask to task

 

i want to touch but never ask

          all the ladies pass

                   my name is anonymous

 

a homeless man asks for change

          i take him to a taco stand

                   and buy a dozen tacos

we eat and sip from my flask

          our names are never asked

                   but we are called anonymous

 

i buy a couple of 40s

and we sit on the sidewalk

our backs pressed against a cold building

 

he tells me details

          about a woman he once knew

i stare at the shoes on the feet that pass

          and say nothing

 

the homeless man starts yelling at pedestrians

          for stepping on cracks

          something about their mothers’ backs

i light us each a cigarette

          hand him the rest of my 40

                   and walk away

 

and notice all the cracks

          on these dark streets of decay

 

***

the dark streets of decay 4

oh how i use to believe

in things i could not see

 

now all that i see

holds nothing i want to believe

 

i’m back on the sidewalk

it was dark when i woke up

 

i didn’t want to drink

but beer was my breakfast

and a cigarette my desert

 

i am not helpless

and i do not want anything from you

so judge if you must

but you’re indignation exposes your ignorance

 

believe what you believe and give it your whole being

you do not want to be an unbeliever

 

there is no rain tonight

i’m just walking

eating a protein bar

and thinking about my next cigarette

 

it’s been a long time since the sidewalks weren’t wet

and i’m rather enjoying this evening

 

i don’t like being alone

but how could i be anything but

my hobby is picking at my skin till it bleeds

and not making eye contact

 

i’ve reached the right buzz

and i just want the laws of physics to be repealed

and all these torn pieces of flesh to heal

on these dark streets of decay

 

the night is magic

the sky is clear

the stars diminished by the city lights

and i just want to go home

 

no purpose as i roam

no gravity equaling force times whatever

just me

sidewalks, darkness, beer and solitude

 

i am never rude

politeness is how you can hide in plain sight

it is just another night

and i am just going to go home

stare at the dark walls in my apartment

and drink

 

and sometimes think

about arms around me

how they catch fire

flames consume

and leave nothing but an unidentifiable corpse

but what a way to go…

 

***

i really should come with a warning label

           some days

            it’s all on the tip of my heart

 

                   the answer that is

 

          not the answers

            the things i’ve been told by everyone else to be true

 

          but the answer that is me

            set free

          with complete understanding of me

 

and not this frustration of not fitting in

            of not believing their answers

              because their answers are not what i’m looking for

 

          i’m looking for me

            set free

          with complete understanding of me

 

          or at least the reasons why i can’t find me

 

          then some days i almost know

 

                   but it’s like a fish wiggling in your hand

                   until it slips free

                     and disappears into the water

 

                   and it’s just gone

 

          and i can’t tell anyone

 

          how can you tell someone about something you can’t find

            something you can’t define

 

          something so lost

            that you wouldn’t even know

              where to look

                where to start

          or even what you are looking for

 

          if i knew

            believe me i would do

 

          it’s better than an empty shell

            that doesn’t know how to act

              because it doesn’t know how it wants to act

          so it just reacts

 

          a well trained pavlov’s dog

 

            stimulus and response

 

          till you’re only self-identity is wanting to please

 

          cause you don’t know what you want

            so you don’t want to argue over anything

 

          not until you’re really sure it’s what you feel

              and who you are

 

          till then i read your rhetoric and rightfully respond

 

          cause i don’t have a stance

            just survival of a present circumstance

 

          cause i don’t know who i am

 

          and my motions are just the motions

            which are motivated by the need of the day

 

          not an expression of self

 

          it’s all so purposeless when it’s not an expression of self

 

          and alcohol really deadens the pain

 

                   of not knowing

                     of not knowing what to know

                       how to know

 

          who is me

            how to be me in everything

              to where if you offend me

                i express my offense with self-righteous anger

 

          instead of knowing inside that i’m just not sure

            so don’t say a word

 

          have another drink

 

         

          where is the guide

            where is the prophet

              where is the angel of God

 

          or at least a pointer dog to point me in the right direction

 

          just a hint?

 

         

          sometimes i feel so alone

            intellectually i understand the bible

              but i have no faith

 

          cause i never see anything change

            and i can no longer believe without evidence

 

          i’m tired of drifting

            in an empty boat

              on an open sea

                beneath an endless sky

 

                  aimlessly drifting

 

          yes i know what paddles are for

            but every time i’ve ever paddled

              i went in the wrong direction

                and often for the wrong reasons

 

          oh i thought the compass pointed to me

            but i was just following someone else’s heading

 

          their answers to contentment

            peace

              and happiness

 

          but i am not looking for these

         

            i am looking for me

 

          i do love coffee

            but it’s pretty sad

              that the only thing that gets

                me out of bed in the morning

          is my love of coffee

 

          once it kicks in i’m back to reacting to stimuli

 

          and wanting to shut off the stimuli with a beer

 

          when all i want

            when all i really need

              is a firm handle on me

 

          a handle so firm

            that there is nothing else i need

 

          that’s why i am so susceptible to religions

            cause they all point the finger

              at our own inability

                our need to be what we are presently not

 

                    and i identify with that truth

 

          but that is the only assured conviction i share with them

 

          after that the answers are not

              as i have said

                the answer that i am looking for

 

          at least for the moment i recognize my need

              i recognize my search

 

          but i need more than recognition

         

            i need more than your approval

              i need more than your answers

 

                because i will not find me in either

 

          and me is what i need to find

 

***

 

a moment in time

the poet danced at darkhorse inn

consuming whiskey, beer and gin

the barkeep found a napkin stained

with ink in a constant refrain

 

“i raise my glass and make a toast

my grave is empty is my boast

the end will come i know not when

so drink your whiskey, beer and gin”

 

the barkeep later framed those words

although the ink was slightly blurred

the poet died as we all will

but every night the barkeep still

tells everybody to recite

the words the poet wrote that night

                            

***

my early twenties

i had a dream a sullen dream so very long ago

i was an artist in this dream who thought that you should know

that poetry was meant to be the reason we exist

no other words but poetry should be upon our lips

 

the days went by as days will do and no one would agree

that there is nothing to live for but words and poetry

and so the poet put away the visions and the dreams

the diamond stars were now just stars and all was as it seems

 

and happiness and things of bliss all disappeared from view

and though the poet can’t digest he chews and chews and chews

he worked his abs and fought the flab, he listened and he heard

he did his chores and played the whore, oh god it’s been absurd

 

and decades dance away and you can find you’re still alive

and every time the poet prays he’s only speaking lies

for words are all he cares about and feels that they should reach

that moment when the sun is shining on a golden beach

 

however one can reach that place is how they ought to go

i’ll walk this sod a living fraud until i finally know

that moment way back in my past when all that i lived for

was poetry and poetry and poems and nothing more

 

***

empty hangers

i’m looking for the laundry list

          to find my favorite shirt

i wore while dancing in the mist

          till i fell in the dirt

 

i asked my wife why shirts would leave

          and she said look again

it seems in parting i will grieve

          and blame it on my sin

 

and so i checked the dryer sheets

          but they clung to my pants

that long ago had lost their pleats

          cause treat them right i can’t

 

i checked the baskets where i throw

          whatever falls in dirt

but there’s no reason that i know

          that i can’t find my shirt

 

and so i sulk on closet floors

          where other shirts still hang

i never thought i’d feel this sore

          but oh my gosh! and dang!

 

i want my favorite shirt to be

          my favorite shirt i wear

but now that it’s abandoned me

          i’d rather be quite bare

 

so think on this if think on me

          you will do at all

my life’s a shirt that i can’t see

          and i am quite appalled

that nothing more becomes my life

          my moment and my day

then things mundane causing me strife

          affecting me this way

 

***

Never Aired X-Files Episode

 I was abducted by a flying saucer containing a couple of drunken aliens in sailor suits. They landed on the rings of Saturn and offered me some of their swill. It had a fruity taste but after a couple of swallows I was as plastered as they were. They told me how our solar system is the galaxies’ dump and every space craft that journeys by jettisons its garbage into the cluster of asteroids that use to be the sole habitat of Pluto.

          They said the only reason anyone came to my backwards planet was to screw with us. Our top minds were like newborns and didn’t know a fraction of what their kids in kindergarten knew. Besides people are always freaking out any time they get a glimpse of a UFO. It was good for an alien laugh, a lay over on the way to the center of the Milky Way. When I asked the secret to world peace they just blinked at me and said, “Stop killing each other.” Then they just seemed bored and took me back to Earth. They laughed as they shoved me out the door while the vessel was still moving and I hit the ground rolling. By the time I gained my feet they were nowhere to be seen. I was miffed by their ill treatment but I have to admit that getting to travel in space was pretty cool.

 

***

word value

the words within me are asleep

i raise the flag admit defeat

i died the death i knew would come

i’m plumb and jaded, warm and numb

 

there’s no more reason left to write

i shrug the worry and the plight

whether the cause is yours or mine

i’ve lost the need to make it rhyme

 

for all the good that ever does

sometimes one’s art can cause a buzz

but entertainment is the core

and charm is wasted on a whore

 

for relevance is clearly taught

it’s only good if sold or bought

but once the novelty wears off

they toss it to the slopping trough

 

***

cotton blue

I sit in silence and watch the blue cotton dress cling to her body. I pretend to have a reason to look in her direction and she plays along with the pretend as my eyes drink her in. She is beautiful and slightly flirtatious. I know I don’t have a shot and am content for this to be all fun and games, although a starving man dreams of prime rib he’ll settle for crumbs falling from the table. I watch her walk out of my life onto her next adventure. I return to my walls where I make sure no one knows I am home. I hide from the hotels, the hospices, the hot spots, the stories that I use to live but now avoid the hurt that comes with human contact. They were never my friends. My phone never rings and there are never any messages and I take solace in my solitude. It is like a soothing balm, a stereophonic simplicity, a surround sound of silence. Outside noises make me peek through blinds; I’m a peeping tom on the exposed world taking joy in my voyeurism, the invisible man. They are oblivious to my viewing and I am entertained yet want no part of their pain, problems and lies. A quick tort with my hand and I forget all about the blue dress and the hours she would strip from my solitude manipulating me until she got the desired behavior modification that would make me more tolerable. I don’t want to be tolerable; I want to be unnoticed; left to roam the rooms with all the lights off, safe in the camouflage of no one home. I own nothing anyone would want to steal, no T.V., stereo, computer. I want no contact with the outside world, but if someone tries to break in I carry my pistol in my hand at all times, walking around naked, going from blinds to blinds, safe, secure, alone.

 

***