um, it’s your move

wow

i mean it

just wow

 

it is so late

i’m on some street

heart of los angeles

and i’m dancing

 

it’s hot

everything gone

but my jeans

 

and i’m dancing

 

who says midnight

is not a dance floor

 

who says we can’t dance

unless the dj plays

the perfect score

 

i’m spinning

moving

whirling

gyrating

 

 it’s all just forgotten

 

and yes

there is

so much to forget

 

i don’t need a hit

a swig

or a kiss

 

just this dance

 

let me dance

 

just let me dance

 

it’s l. a.

cars keep going

on their way

 

no one cares

no one wants to share

 

and i don’t need

them to feed

on me

 

just let me dance

let me move

let me groove

 

if they descend

this dance will not end

 

lock me up

i will not stop dancing

 

whether or not you approve

this is my groove

 

midnight motions

almost naked

 

moving

moving

moving

 

just dance?

just fucking dance

even

no

especially

in the dark

 

***

 

 

 

lost souls and back alleys

the back door of the bar leads to a dark alley

the lost souls gather for cigarettes

since such a sin is not allowed in the bar

the only thing missing is a recitation

from edgar allen poe

 

eyes light up temporarily

as lips and lungs take a drag

then the ember end

rockets through the dark

like a shooting star

until it crashes against a leg

the holder cursing

and brushing the fabric of their pants

with the unfiltered hand

 

i pass around my flask

but it never makes it back to me

 

i have been silent for days

the sun was shining but i was gray

telling myself i had quit drinking

even though every evening found

me already drunk

 

i danced the propriety of pretension

trying to make reality another dimension

though i never could quite bring myself

to say, “all things happen for a reason”

 

so in this soon to be summer season

in the heated hearth of los angeles

i returned to walking outside

no longer trying to hide

with the internet worries

of how our galaxy will collide

with another in about

two billion years

 

um, yes, we already know

that is why i am in this back alley

going down slow

little does everyone else here know

i have another flask

nor can they see in this ink

that i am taking it to task

oh why do we ask

any question?

 

tell me if i just change my words

to the right confession

the dictatorship of a petty god

will find favor with me

 

chug, chug, chug

flask or a jug

light my cigarette

with the end of the one i’ve just smoke

and when my flask is empty

 

there are empty stools

and empty shot glasses

waiting for someone who long ago strayed

onto the dark streets of decay

 

***

chemistry 101

sauvé and debonair

words so smooth

they flow like liqueur

 

makes money

smoldering good looks

he’s even interested in you

 

but he’s not the one you choose

even though he moves

heaven and earth for you

 

the heart wants

what the heart wants

 

a swing and a miss

next time you’ll bunt

 

i can treat you like fragile flowers

nurture, cull, protect

then watch you offer your neck

to the vampires who satisfy

their blood lust

then leave your carcass

in a putrid alley

 

the lesson learned

be yourself

till that is what someone loves

and while you wait

expect to be very lonely

 

***

vertigo

earlier this year

i had my first onset of vertigo

it came for a day

went away

 

almost came back

almost

 

then a couple days ago

took over my mind

and i can’t stop being dizzy

 

went to the doctor

barely able to walk

but he kept staring

at my muscled form

through my tight shirt

his eyes were a page

that is easy to read

“this guy is in too good

of shape to be sick”

 

and like all the women

i have known

he kicked me to the curb

 

got home and googled vertigo

and realized i’m screwed

as far as there being anything to do

 

i probably should have told the doctor

about my nose bleed a few days back

seemed like there was no reason

for the blood to flow

other than a dry wind

seemed inconsequential

 

oh well

it has helped keep me sober

i already got the spins

don’t need a bottle of gin

to feel fucked up

 

***

sober

woke up 4 p.m.

had some coffee

i was gonna work out

went back to bed

 

woke up 7 p.m.

had some coffee

a couple of chili dogs

deleted all my contact

information for her

went back to bed

 

woke up 12:45 a.m.

poured some coffee

and wrote

“it was a long time ago

i killed fifteen animals

ten of them slow”

 

wasn’t sure where

that came from

but then remembered

when i was a little boy

playing in the yard

there was an ant hill

black ants

and i was pretending

i was their king

 

i found an injured

grasshopper

and placed it

in the midst of the ants

feeding my subjects

 

they swarmed

i watched

and the grasshopper

stared at me

with the saddest eyes

questioning, “why?”

 

my earliest memory

of extreme guilt

 

cruelty matters

kindness matters

the absence of one

and the enactment

of the other

is its own reward

 

i’m tired

sobriety is a fire

burning down my mind

 

i’m not trying to find

anything

but last night

i came across a review

of my novel

 

it was favorable

it blew me away

writing is the only

thing i enjoy

and this lifestyle

i deploy

well there is inability

in inebriation

 

i knew then i didn’t

want to drink anymore

 

don’t know yet

the rate of my success

but i’ve already been thinking

of a new story to write

 

though at this moment

i’m sipping ice water

still waiting for the

calibration of coffee

so i can get moving

wondering if i should

go back to bed

 

sleep through 3 a.m.

for the first time

in a long time

can’t say how long

i’ve been really drunk

and there is a lot

i don’t remember

and i’m not sure

tonight is the night

to read through

these past few months’

entries on my blog

 

but i think i wrote about

being a frog

lily pads and all

waiting for a kiss

from a princess

to make me 10 feet tall

and a king

 

i know there was kissing

it must have been the princess

that was missing

but if i were drunk right now

i’m sure i’d write

all fairytales are lies

so why even try

 

but tonight

i remember

grasshoppers and guilt

and how the absence of cruelty

and the enactment of kindness

matters

and we all want to matter

so enough of this chatter

 

i’m going to write a new novel

it won’t encompass the universe

the galaxy or the world

just a boy and a girl

and the language of love

protons won’t swirl

around the nucleus

but he will be willing to die

and even live for her kiss

 

***

nothing will be revealed

To let understanding stop at what cannot be understood is a high attainment. Those who cannot do it will be destroyed on the lathe of heaven –Chuang Tzu

 

i know i am not wise

but i can’t decide

if these words are nonsense

or tantamount to truth

 

the second half of the last century

we waited for the world

to become a wasteland

 

it was in the literature

the films

the political mindfuck

with which they frightened us

 

that was our false reality

and every decade

the drug of choice changed

 

fringe music waited for an apocalypse

till it’s fans turned twenty

and money made it bearable

so a new music sound

sounded the alarm

 

now i couldn’t tell you

what’s going on

i live like a hermit

in a house of hostility

 

no longer seeking wisdom

or who has the truth

because …

oh, haven’t i already said all this?

 

this isn’t bliss

but what is?

and if it can’t be attained

why travel its sign laden highway?

 

i’m so burned out on

your highway hypnosis

travel as you say

to find the way

because there is a way

that all should travel

and it is as you say

and then one day

all will be revealed

 

you will be justified

and i will be mortified

god will declare you god

and your judgment will be just

because i did not

come and bow before the throne

of your ego while we were alive

 

go thrive

leave me in this dive

where it’s one sign,

“don’t drink and drive”

holds no relevance for me

because i don’t own a car

 

anyways what i mean to say

is when you kneel and pray

don’t pray for me

 

when the synapses in my brain

stop firing

i will cease to exist

in all totality

 

nothing more

but decay

and whether i’m cremated

or laid in a grave

all that is still around

will still be in decay

until everything

goes away

 

you don’t have to agree

just let me be

i will live according to my belief

that it doesn’t matter what i do

i will not be saved

by what you crave

the world to be

 

someone once talked me into

the kingdom of heaven

and then someone came

and talked me right out

 

i have chosen

the dark streets of decay

as my way

so please just go away

 

it’s late and i’m loaded

and all your litanies

will not leverage

i will not put down

the beverage

and be what you suppose

no matter how perfect the rose

i’ve seen it wither

crumple and decay

it did not take a

nuclear winter

just the natural order

of things

 

and the wisdom it brings

about inevitable decay

and the end of all things

and if we live beyond

the cessation of being

it’s not what i believe

 

so go live as your beliefs dictate

and i will live according to mine

 

i’ll shut up if you will

 

***

dead dreams dance dangerously near

i remember holding pink vinyl

double album

pink world

planet p project

 

to this day

i have yet to meet

someone who knows

what i’m talking about

 

i wore out diamond needles

on that turn table

listening

inspired

 

to create something so original

use the beauty of art

to make the world a better place

 

believe me

often i wonder

where did things go wrong

how did the dark streets of decay

become my swan song

 

i know of abandoned carousels

but i don’t rebuild them

making the world more beautiful

from the restoration

like david carradine did

 

i write ichabod on my arm

take another swig

as i sit on another sidewalk

someone offers me a dollar

 

is this the hint of my descent?

 

i wouldn’t know how to make it 1984

headphones, me on the floor

listening to a pink world coming down

it’s three a.m.

then and now

 

but the hour is the only thing that remains

 

i use to think salvation was to be devoid

devoid of self and the trappings of this world

that i could make meaning out of mud

if i unleashed the compassion within

 

but does sharing a 40 ounce

with a homeless man

amount to charity?

equate me with a saint?

 

and i am not devoid

of self or the trappings of this world

my muscles strain like atlas

as i carry the weight of my selfishness

upon my shoulders

 

a young man of beliefs

became a common thief

stealing moments to make moments matter

but never materialized

 

i’m not even plagiarized

though i thought my imitation

would lead to leavings

of beauty

a better world then i found it

 

but

i’m caught in the act of cold react

after awhile it’s matter of fact

 

and this sunken sidewalk

three a.m.

slurring betraying my attempts

to sound sober

is the cost of one who is lost

with memories of what was intended

why was the bottle befriended?

am i correct that nothing matters

or did a young man’s mission misfire?

answers un-acquired

hurt so badly that i no longer

have the heart to help

 

were my attempts at beauty

subjected to the subjective

completely rejected?

and i didn’t have the strength

to endure the length

of what was said beauty should be

 

so i cocooned

but never bloomed

into a free flitting butterfly

 

i just spy with my little eye

the place where you won’t be

so i can be free

 

not like buddha under the tree

just me

lying for my liberty

that your condemnation doesn’t matter

because you are so ignorant

to believe that anything matters

 

only problem is

i stopped creating

and began this mental masturbating

believe me there is nothing beautiful

where everything is either black

or at best gray

on these dark streets of decay

 

***