fragments

hotdogs for breakfast

but it’s hard to find eggs and toast

at 7 p.m.

 

i took physics

but i still don’t hear the music of atoms

 

and a reasonable scientific explanation

doesn’t resonate with the soul

 

not like a jack kerouac novel

or jim morrison’s poetry

or me and bobby mcgee

and let’s not forget paul bowles

 

motion without meaning

unless you consider the search

for someone who can stand you

the purpose to our existence

 

i look up at the darkness that use to be a sky

no clouds but still a dark shroud

we have eliminated the stars

with all our city lights

 

nothing else exists except what we can see

although particle physicists would disagree

and those who hold to the hope of redemption

because they thought the right thoughts

 

tonight i saw some guys see me

and by their looks i could see

they had nothing better to do

so i ran as fast as my smoker’s lungs would let me

they gave chase

but i erased their threat by ducking into a bar

stayed on the strength of my credit card

and stumbled back into the night

 

a girl approached me

sex for money

i just couldn’t

i may not believe in love

but i do believe in romance

“just give me a chance”

she pleaded

but i handed her all the money in my wallet

and said, “have a nice night”

 

now i’m imagining i’m a kite

hovering over this city

with no wish to be brought back to the ground

 

loneliness makes a sound

and it sounds like l.a.

i hear the creaking of the decay

the floor boards are moaning

 

one day this planet will no longer support life

but i’m not sure this city

has defined being alive

 

i don’t blame people who survive

by making a family

paying endless bills

and practicing home improvements

 

compared to the movement of late night streets

there’s something to be said for freshly washed sheets

hanging on a line

and a chance for not being lonely

 

but i am only what i let myself be

sobriety is something i flee

the deepest roots make the strongest trees

and my roots were exported in her suitcase long ago

when she carried her baggage out my door

leaving me with hardwood floors

and a half written novel

and an answer that doesn’t apply

to any question ever asked

 

***

 

the dark streets of decay 13

the world outside is dark

the kind of darkness that evaporates the gray

 

standing in a entryway of some business

that closed hours ago

 

no one else on the streets

i’m holding my empty flask

and smoking

 

watching the rain

and realizing day will break soon

but it will invade slowly

barely overtaking

the cloud covered exterior of the world

 

not only is there no one around

there is no one at my place either

except a cat

who is always glad to see me

and sleeps nearby on the bed

when i’m sweating out the

previous night

 

l. a. is drowning

the aqueducts are a kayaker’s dream 

and the oceans threaten to cover the earth

if this rain does not let up soon

 

i’ve tried to swallow all the raindrops

and save the world

but solutions have never been my gift to the world

 

someone at some bar earlier was complaining

about having to sign up for government healthcare

i’ve been out of touch and didn’t know about this

but then my health has not been something

i have cared about lately

 

i’m just waiting for the rain to finally catch fire

and burn me to a crisp

i think i have dental records somewhere

if they feel the need to bother

 

i can’t remember the last time i had human contact

touch against touch

hell not even a handshake

bars full of females with lonely eyes

but none look my way

i exit onto the dark streets of decay

and try to find my way home

before the advent of another day

 

***

avenue of a lonely god

i live alone on mount olympus

nobody gets this

they keep swearing there is meaning

and feel that it is their responsibility

to change me

 

if i would only change my perspective

not understanding they are only supporting

my argument that it is all perspective

 

truth is what we can prove

and nothing is proven

suburbs, suicide or synchronicity

ideas are as meaningless as you and me

 

so stop preaching

stop reaching

if i could visibly watch you feed the 5,000

from a few fishes and a loaf of bread

then i would believe all that is said

 

till then it is all stories

meant to give meaning

where none actually exist

 

ideas to justify the suffering

suffer for a higher cause

all else is a waste

 

and i don’t deny

dark streets of decay

are just that

wasting away

 

in every sense of the word

 

but when i ask you to what purpose

and you answer

i then say again

“and to what purpose?”

 

because you have no answer

your answer doesn’t answer

it just satisfies you

and all you do

 

but not me

i’m drifting on another avenue

and not only all your words

but also you are completely insignificant

 

 just like me

but it seems i am the only one free

because i have no expectation of what should be

 

beyond me on these streets

and feeling that things should be

another way

and all the words you say

will not convict

but only acquit

 

and set me free

to walk and let me be me

because you cannot give me a reason to change

an ideal i should suffer for and rearrange

 

because words are not true

and if you think it is enough that the words came from you

 

i can see you do not know anything

 

of course nothing can be known

oh why can’t everyone just leave me alone

 

why can’t salvation be satisfied without the word us

why am i walking your olympus

and finding no gods to whom i will ever answer

 

***

explorations beyond the velvet veil

the night is dark

but you already fucking know that

my point is that there is no point at all

 

still i sat enthralled

midnight movie at amc

creature from the black lagoon

now i’m roaming after my version of noon

 

the heroine is julia adams and i’m the buffoon

who watches the handsome hero win her love

late night of the last dove

in the 50s the evil must always be killed

 

in high school all i wanted was to be loved

but one day i learned about this thing called perception

that there is nothing that is true

only what we perceive to be true

and no one is going to love you

unless you are something that they would want to love

 

late night of the last dove

the white feathers are a one piece bathing suit

and a creature that only reacts to need

without philosophy

a mindless beast

you and me?

cause i’m not convinced the stars’ final embrace

was happily ever after

 

just a concept that we should always stay together

because someone somewhere said that’s how all love should be

 

while i waited in line for the movie

some guy sold me a few flakes from his mushroom

and now it is really starting to win

i am a cloud

and the night is a wind

and i have no control over where it will send me

 

julia adams is in the 50s

and i have no idea where i am

only that the late night of the last dove is not with me

and time travel never has a happy ending

all the bars are closed

l. a. is in repose

if love is to be found

it’s not in the expanse of a mushroom cloud

 

and i’m tripping on the window display

a huge statue of the virgin mary

with all kinds of lights and colors

 

or maybe the display is unlit

and i’m a song writer looking for another hit

but the record companies just aren’t buying

 

in the 80s we called this frying

i’ve no clue what they call it today

nothing and i mean nothing is in decay

and i don’t care if she is a starlet

or a woman struggling with her weight

arms around me is the fate

i dream is destiny

 

i think i’m going to hitchhike to the desert

and take peyote with the coyotes

because no paragraph matters

not even an obituary

if it doesn’t state who he is survived by

 

***

 

rain warrior

i’m not singing in the rain

that would be profane

no goodnight kiss

causing late night bliss

 

i’m not even sure where i am tonight

wet sidewalks all look the same

when you roam the late nights in l. a.

 

buzzed, wet and indifferent

and definitely without the flair

of gene kelly or fred astaire

 

but i’ve counted more raindrops

then all the weathermen combined

mixing memories with an occasional rhyme

 

there use to be a certain mystery to these streets

when i first walked them

now i’m just an asteroid

slowly being pulled into a black hole

 

if humans have a soul

mine is the vibrations of the rain

 

others stay inside or cover up

i let the thing i can’t control fill my cup

the world is only real when it is dry

 

***

 

the dark streets of decay 12

i was relatively dry when i got to the cantina

there’s this thing called an umbrella

i felt like an idiot holding it over my head

but i do get tired of the stares

when i walk in a bar soaked through and through

 

i passed on the tequila and stuck with the tecate

there is a small crucifix over the bar

next to a sign that reads,

“todo con moderacion”

(all things in moderation)

and the elderly lady behind the bar

is leaving the empty cans in front of me

like an umpire keeping score

 

but when i say,

“esta cantina es muy fina”

she shakes her head

and goes to the manager

and whispers in his ear

soon he is placing my final tab in front of me

 

and i am out in the rain

i placed my umbrella by the door

holding my now free hand over my cigarette

walking and getting very wet

 

i think of an ending to my novel

but instead of the protagonist

finding true love

and kissing in the rain

he will be alone

in his studio apartment

coughing up blood

when the last period is typed

 

***

the missing element

naturally occurring elements

and

elements that  are synthesized

in other words

they don’t exist in nature

 

designer atoms

 

i haven’t drank much the last few nights

i’ve stayed in

had a beer now and then

and tonight i’m sober

 

the rainy season

isn’t the reason

the past few months

i’ve lived in the rain

 

i wasn’t searching for meaning

how can there be

if there is no one

to orchestrate?

 

no flow

no fate

and unknown origins

 

how i wish a burning bush would prove me wrong

among this endless rain burning strong

bringing me to my knees

 

i watch the rain from my balcony

holding a hot cigarette on a cold night

it was raining when you left

which is good

cause no one can tell you are crying in the rain

 

but those days i never really want to think about

 

i toss my cigarette into the rain swept street below

and decide to join it

shoe my feet

hit the street

and scream

“if you stand in the rain no one can tell you are crying!”

 

the nearest bar is a cantina

they have imported beer, margaritas and tequila

that will do

 

***

i hit the refresh button but nothing changed

shit

don’t remember last night

but for some reason i shaved my head

 

not that uncommon these days

but since my dad was born in austria

and i’m all muscular from the weights

i look like a neo nazi piece of shit

 

i think i have a hat somewhere

 

not that anyone will be out in this rain

except me

my cat sitting in the window watching

me walk away and thinking,

“he’s really not all that bright is he?”

 

and me pulling my jacket over my head

so i can have a smoke while i walk

the circus clown and the big top

 

i should buy a fucking wig

and dye it orange

 

anyway i pushed myself on the weights today

but started drinking right after the last set

i guess i should eat at some point tonight

walking amid the rain drenched lights

god this is just like every fucking night

 

what would i do with my time

if i suddenly thought that all this mattered

and our presence here meant something?

 

well that won’t be tonight

i’m gonna be somewhere

where you tip the bartender

and then wake up the next evening

and find that you have shaved your empty skull

 

***