Archive for December, 2010

don’t say a word…

Posted in Friendship, Funny Morning Stories, love n' luck, Poetry, thoughtful trips, travel, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , , on December 31, 2010 by Caribbean Fool

cracked laughter

consequential questions
& she wants breakfast
on the road. my real name
is too heavy,
heavier than i can
carry so call me
anything you want.

i could be flame orange,
a fire reaching for
your cigarette; after
the first tear falls,
you’ll think back on
my laughter you could
feel but not hear.

even if i had a name,
it wouldn’t matter; can
it buy milk & eggs or
light your way through
the dark? those pretty
eyes are asking
questions no other part
of you wants answered.

i got no time for girls who
don’t do poetry or poets
& when i smile at rejection
doctrinaire it’ll be all you
can do not to wanna
know why. those are
temporary thoughts;
not much to learn
‘cept how it ends.

inconsequential talking;
literary addicts scribble
replies while driving down
highways looking for
preset plans to come
true. i got music & words
ain’t nobody heard
outside of fantasy &
i’m ready to share.

300 miles from
a district cop &
she thinks she’s lettin’
her imagination run wild;
i can’t tell if she knows
it’s really my
wild imagination
runnin’ free.


Because there are still some girls out there insisting on poems about them and them alone! Too lascivious? (How was that again BTL? Did I read that right? lol) Thanks for the inspiration. Giving a daydreamer something to daydream about is like giving a junkie the keys to the pharmacy.

Happy New Year everyone. Try not to look in the wrong direction. You might miss it.


empty wallet…

Posted in Funny Morning Stories, JL Stories, Poetry with tags , , , on December 30, 2010 by Caribbean Fool

jokermans’ last request

tourniquet solutions
nurse cursed daytime
i wonder
who deals
the easiest
around here?
i got a 7 mile smile
ready to dig through
guts & blood
‘n if i hafta,
clouds & wind.

every smile
signs my attenuated
relaxation. right now
you don’t gotta be
to smile,
but it
doesn’t hurt.


“Ted; Don’t forget to wind your watch.”

you comin’ in?.?.?.

Posted in Hysterical Romance, Late Night Silence, Learning About Life, Music, Poetry, Reader Requests, sex, TWTC with tags , , , , , on December 30, 2010 by Caribbean Fool

standard font

i walked a million miles
waiting on someone
to ask me a
damn question i
couldn’t answer.

most of my tangled
history is whatever
it is, but there’s
no answer when i ring
that bell. no more
scrap-books here.

i’m smilin’ heavy,
cause usually it’s
recognized for what it
ain’t; my stereotypical
freak-out along
checkout counters
at a local porn shop.

girl at the counter
seems smart.
first impressions, right?

“hey darlin’ you
got tomorrow off
& wanna come along
with me? i can show
what i know,
if you’ll ask that
question & lemme
see your puzzle piece.

ask that question,
ring that bell, tell
me this ain’t more than
the tip of blinding
sun-style over substance.

i’ll play fox
or hound; don’t
really matter. it’s all some
fantasy of perfection ‘tll
masks fall off. ask that
question & make ’em
you & me.

catch me curious,
you don’t have to wait;
doors are locked so
jump the fuckin’ gate.


For LBTL on what I can only call a dare. Gimme something else, I like this game. Late night hijinks used to be my best face. I can usually get the girl at the counter to blush; can you throw a smile across a room? What a cynical question; of course you can. Inspired by 2 chance conversations with the girl who works the counter at MVC Late Night Video. She said she was impossible to live with and I thought otherwise and told her so. There are some fascinating folk out there.

Dedicated to someone long gone from my world but still in my heart whenever Stabbing Westward comes on. “Yup yup, fuck Mandy.” She was crazy and fuck me do I love crazy. (no, nobody will understand that quote ‘cept my brother in arms, and he’s not reading yet.)

reaching for the purple flower…

Posted in Cigarette, Early Morning Silence, Intervention, One Shot Wednesday, Poetry with tags , , , on December 29, 2010 by Caribbean Fool

devil’s bargain

by 11 a.m. the second
day, i think i’m dead.
metaphorically, but let’s
not get allegorical.

it’s torture, those wonderful
nails live just 4 feet from here.
no fucking guarantees, but
then again, even a short inter-
ruption probably can’t hurt; but
then again, no fuckin’ guaran-

black smoke chronicles part three…

Posted in BSC, De Quincey, Insomnia, Poetry, thoughtful trips with tags , , , , on December 29, 2010 by Caribbean Fool

gimme light

black coffee sits with
a burning cigarette, both
desperate for attention,
silently competing over
who’ll be drank or smoked

my tiny space expands &
contracts as i play with
my heartbeat; watching
ice melt in an abandoned
cup next to my computer.
takes more than you’d
think to push words
around & i can’t tell
if the ice is watching
me try to write
or i’m watching it

it says right on the
packaging y’ain’t
s’poseda do this. well?
let’s do this. now.
only thing more fun than
not following instructions
is coloring outside the
lines (go ahead &
trust me on this subject,
if nothing else.) coffee’s
pretty good. serious.


Ever write a poem feeling like a total prick & then realizing it about halfway through only to apply slapdash editing to quickly take out that pinch of vitriolic distemper? Yeah, me either. Thanks BMS. Seriously? “okay, Eddie.” Goddamit.

black smoke chronicles part four…

Posted in BSC, Bukowski, Cigarette, De Quincey, Fear, Friendship, Opinion, Poetry, thoughtful trips with tags , , , , on December 29, 2010 by Caribbean Fool

okay eddie.

stalled out this close to
the end, duckin’ too much
thinkin’. honesty can
be a real motherfucker
when it doesn’t go your way.
curled up, knowin’
that fighting two
battles ain’t much
an idea; how ’bout

not that it matters.
everything you want is
gonna come true, but
moving with you like that
almost makes me wanna
want to do it again.
seems dangerous.

if this is acceptance
(maybe i’m reaching?)
no need for anymore
tosses against those sharp
rocks waiting on time & tide
to smooth rough edges. their
patience is infinite where
mine is jest; wannabe
laughter from a
strangled throat.
i can’t speak as you
flee like a ghost
in the breeze.


Dedicated with what I’ll charitably call ironic hipness, and I’m not hip. At all. Trust me. Not real charitable either, but that one can be explained by poverty so fuck it, right? Also, no, I haven’t posted BSC part 3 yet; don’t worry. It will be up soon whomever keeps clicking on part one.

accidents of elocution…

Posted in #6, Funny Morning Stories, Poetry with tags , , on December 24, 2010 by Caribbean Fool

repeat offender part 6

gotta love that timing;
mouth of the subway speaks,
& i’m the only one
who heard a damn thing.
couldabeen a motherfucking
tragedy, if it’d had anything
important to say.

even when it wasn’t
a wasn’t funny joke,
it was something along
those lines of utter
incomprehensibility spoken
durin’ a xenophobia contest
between two retards;
there’s usually a point.

instead of hanging on
’till the unveiling of king shit (of turd
mountain fame) there
comes a time to leave such
debonair affairs in the past
& move on to the next; ever
assuming next is at least different,
despite accumulating evidence
to the contrary.


There are no typo’s in this, whatever you might be thinking.