WALKING THROUGH HOLES IN WALLS ON HORSES – PART ONE

This is a collection of ten short poems transcribed from an impromptu poetry session recorded several years ago. I dedicate them to Charles Bukowski as they are in the Bukowski free form style and content. There are ten poems, so I have broken them down into two posts.

1-050-14SEY30 MK0306

THE ACADEMY

The Academy of Lifetime Lovers
plays on Beverly Rude Street
it’s open season
for anything that rolls.

It’s the Academy of Beverly Night Hill Street.

All of the fountains left standing
do not turn gold anymore
when it rains
are they real?

On the Beverly Hill Street only
it’s a wide street
it’s a hot street
it’s a cold street
it’s another night
on the Beverly Hill Street Blues Street.
It’s another day in the Beverly Hills Street suite.
It’s another life in the Beverly Hills Street shop.

—————————————————————

 

TWO BOURBONS THREE COFFEES AND LESS BEER

Two bourbons three coffees and less beer
the waitress hollered at me
I spit
almost hit the guys foot
he turned around and swallowed hard.

Look pal, it wasn’t my drink
it was the coffee that made you throw up
all over the barfly
that’s no way to get a girl to take you home.
But hey
I’ll save your ass
give me your Amex and we’ll get you home.
I know a cab ride
it will take you to the girl inside
she’ll get you the big one.

————————————————

DARRIN TAKES THE FOUR OCLOCK

Darrin took the four o’clock again today
he was on the same route
on the same train
it wasn’t moving any faster.

Why does Darrin always ride the same train
stop on the same watch
look on the same minute
breath the same hand?

Darrin’s on that same damn train again
and it’s always the same time again.

Why does Darrin ride that time?
Why does Darrin ride that train?
Why does Darrin ride the train on time again?
Why does Darrin ride that train?

Hey, there’s Darrin riding that train again tonight
he’s on time.

Darrin is on the train tonight.

————————————————–

 

THE FOUR OF US HOLLOW WITCHES ARE ALWAYS IN THE WAY

The four of us hollow witches are always in the way.
Damn, the bitch whore
she can’t take it
only side waters
big tides
but don’t let that stop you
there’s no blood on this track.

It’s cherry red and it’s clean
don’t let that stop you
if it wasn’t here to eat
it wouldn’t have been put.

Don’t let that stop you
because it doesn’t stop them.

—————————————————

TWO SADDLES AND ONLY ONE PONY RIDER

I was wondering why horses always walk faster.
Gallop
or whatever they do
whenever they want to do it
you know how horses are
limp legs, big legs, fat legs, skinny legs
horses are horses are horses
why do they call them that?

Just horses
only horses
where are you going on that one?
Oh, it’s just my horse.

Well, every rider has to sit on one
that’s why you have to have one
every rider has to have one
every rider has to sit on one
that’s why they call them horse
that’s why they call them a horse
that’s why they call them horse
that’s what they call horse.

————————————————–

 

1-14SEY31 MK0537

WALKING THROUGH HOLES IN WALLS ON HORSES – PART TWO

This is a collection of ten short poems transcribed from an impromptu poetry session recorded several years ago. I dedicate them to Charles Bukowski as they are in the Bukowski free form style and content. There are ten poems, so I have broken them down into two posts.

1-14SEY31 MK0628

 

PASTRIES

Fellatios buttered grits stuck in my pastry
it’s always stuck in my pastry
like jellies or jams
depends on what kind you get
and how much you drink the juice for.

I like jams
I even like jellies
but some jellies are hard to find
some jams are sticky
I like jams
some jellies are hard to find.

I like jellies
they’re sticky.

———————————————

TWO COTTON KINGS ON A DEAD KING HORSE FRYING

There were two kings
they were dead kings
they were on dead horses
I guess you’d be dead too
if you were on dead horses frying
both kings on dead horses frying
why is that?

Why couldn’t there just be one king
on a dead horse frying?
Nope, there had to be two kings
on dead horses frying.
I remember it said
there had to be two kings on dead horses frying.
I remember it said
there had to be two kings on dead horses frying
on dead horses frying.

——————————————————–

MAYAN SEASONS FROM MORE HOLLOWED HOLES

There’s more hollowed holes I’ve had to fill than anything else
more hollowed holes I’ve had to fill than anything else
There’s more hollowed holes I’ve had to fill than anything else
I wonder why?

Filling hollowed holes
I wonder why
filling hollowed holes gets so hard to fill?

Filling hollowed holes gets so hard to fill
filling hollowed holes gets so hard to fill
I wonder why filling holes gets so hard to follow
I wonder why filling holes gets so hard to follow
filling holes gets so hard to follow
filling holes gets so hard to follow.

Filling holes gets so hard to follow.

———————————————————–

A PERCUSSION SOLO AT THE MERCURY

You should have seen the percussion solo
at the Mercury the other night
God, that girl was hot
well something else was hot that night too
but you should have seen the percussion
God that guy was hot
something else was hot that night too.

Well you should have seen the percussionist
I saw the percussionist
God she was hot that night.

—————————————————

THE COOL CATS BACK IN THE MINE AGAIN

I dug around for the cool cats
back in the mine again
what you’re asking is what I found.

————————————————–

 

1-14SEY31 MK0541

TOWERS HIGH ENOUGH FOR MEN TO SEE

FJL43917

 

Did He not build the towers high.

High enough for men to see.

For men to see the Truth and good.

To build and reach the sky.

 

Or were these towers not enough, too short.

Too short for men to fall.

Did He not build it strong enough

the thick and towering wall.

 

Or maybe towers weren’t meant for men at all.

The towers were built and meant to fall.

 

If this is why He built the towers for men.

Why did He build the towers for men at all?

A SUNNI KILLED A SHIITE

 

IMG_7457-2

 

 

A Sunni killed a Shiite

A Shiite killed a Sunni

The great prophet Mohammed

Looked down

And cried

He said

You have dishonored your family

You have disobeyed my Teachings

You have sealed the gates of Paradise

The Imams with tongues of hatred

Have smitten the name of Islam

Broken the laws of Allah

 

The Prophet has spoken.

 

IN A TOWN ON A FARM

 

farm tractor

 

In a town on a farm
not too long ago
a farmer told his livestock
‘this is how it is,
this is how it should be’
and all was well
the chickens were fed
the cows had hay
and all the pigs were happy
rolling in the mud.

One cold December day
the farmers dog went rabid
he told the farmer
‘I don’t care.
it doesn’t matter
we can all do
whatever we want.’

The dog bit the farmer
who later died.
The chickens had no feed
the cows had no hay
and the pigs lost weight
while rolling in the mud
they were not happy.

They all died.

GOD WARS AND DOCU-DRAMAS

HANDLE FACE2

 

 

The Gods always seem to be at war with each other.

I see it on TV.

A friend has it on their smart phone as an app.

People walk around or sit all day

staring at their mini-screens or big screens

watching the Gods at war.

 

Some of them just enjoy the Gods of war.

Others type as fast as their thumb and fingers can move

either helping the Gods at war to keep fighting

or they are busy typing away

thinking they can get the Gods of war to stop fighting.

Maybe they can.

 

But the real war, well the real war

is convincing

all of those people

with or without big screens  or mini-screens

that the Gods of war are not worth   watching.

And the Gods of war are not  worth  fighting for.

 

The Gods have fought before.

And only men suffered.

The Gods do not suffer.

They are Gods.

Only men suffer.

Women suffer even more than men.

 

Are the Gods   only at war  for us

like the Greeks  said they were?

Trying to save us

from themselves

or from other Gods  not quite so benevolent?

Only the Gods  would know the answer.

They are Gods.

We are only  men and   women.

 

Have we ever asked the Gods

why

they were at war?

Would they even want us  to know

how imperfect their world was.

After all,  a Universe  of Gods  where they  had to fight  each other?

You would think  as Gods

since they already know everything

they would be at peace.

 

We are the Gods  to ants  and roaches.

We watch them or

we kill them.

Do  we ever try to help them?

They just like to watch us fight.

It’s the only way they know  they are safe.

 

As long as we’re not fighting,  hungry over them.

Why are the Gods at war?

 

 

 

 

 

 

MINDY AT THE COFFEHOUSE (REVISITED)

Balcony 5REV

 

Mindy leans at me with wide blue eyes,
sparkling stars above a steaming cup
of Bailey’s and Vanilla Bean.
Mindy always has a question,
really meant for God.
Expecting me to answer her,
mystified and energized
in canyon deep philosophy.
Why do lovers lock embraced
in fear and desperation
fighting odds against a world,
fighting odds against a universe?

My buttered bowl of grits
stare back at me.
Lump-less and textured white;
because they know they’ll never win.
Vulnerable surrender.
Her fingers rub her gloss red lips
hungry and seductive.
Listens, and seems satisfied enough,
to pass the salt.

 

QUANTUM OCEANEERING

4W8A1270

 

After years of grouping little bits into place

it first occurred to me

while vacationing in the French Riviera

central mechanisms would connect

when expected to switch.

 

Courses at MIT

and the Atlanta School of Solemn Mechanics

could not have prepared me

for microwave overload

tinkering with random thoughts always

activates loose memories

takes hours to unscrew

tightness from astringents

and in-capacitors

preferring to twist resistors

until their transmitters overheat

and their diodes blow.

 

Never had too many

loose tanning oils to contend with

sunstroke will sometimes cause cancer

cooling fans always run at full speed

in case I have to tackle waves

you do understand

when blue water hits the beach

the silicone crystals in the sand

vibrate at the same frequency

as the unknowns in your head

processors always blink

millions of lights

on and off

message’s you can’t afford to miss

even when wearing your speedo

or thong bikini

or nothing at all.

You do understand now, don’t you?

 

GRANDPA

DSC_0644

 

With his brittle bones

and his sun cracked face

he rode near ‘bout every mile

of the round-up trail.

 

He licks the wind

and stares out at nothing

tobacco dripping lip, spits.

Hell, I fought the sun,

and I won

fought a sneakin’ coyote once,

he lost.

Broke rattlesnakes in half

between bare hands.

Got caught in the drought of the Tulsa ride, too.

 

Thought I’d die in that damn burning desert

never have I thirst, so much

for one wet drop.

They found me about four miles from Breakers Pass.

Eighteen-ninety-seven,

that was my last long ride.

Too many damn city boys

tryin’ to run the drive.

 

And now my grandson drives off

in that noisy pick-up.

He’ll never know the dry taste

of sand and grainy dust

between your teeth.

Wind kicking in your face

like a thousand angry hoofs

punched in your mouth.

 

And my friend,

cold black night.

 

Damn all this fancy fiddle.

I FOUND MYSELF ON AN OLD BOOKSHELF

DSC_0274

 

 

You were obscure,
I found you sitting by yourself
alone on the ledge of the bookshelf
you were frozen and unborn
almost a single bookend without a book

but you stood tall and dusty
proud to be an ancient volume
on a hand burred shelf
of solid polished oak
delicately carved
for a hand to rub and feel
the smooth curves
leading to well worn edges
and time tattered pages
from a volume of your work.