Archive for January, 2011

black smoke chronicles (part who knows)…

Posted in BSC, Insomnia, Late Night Silence, Laughter, Loveable Losers, Poetry, Series, sex, TWTC with tags , , , , on January 31, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

bsc final poem

come with me

seems too easy bein’ overly sober;
with endings already revealed
before anyone can say anything
about a long fuckin’ time ago or
far far fuckin’ away. i’ve spent
enough time guarding darkness
during peripatetic solitude. self-
seduction never seemed so right.

no matter, can’t sleep here anyway.
all night, every night, i’m movin’ even
while motionless & staring into space.
wet-bagged eyes stay comfortable
behind sunglasses. polished correctly,
attention deflects toward inside jokes.
exhaustion without time to sleep, where
insomnia is news & bloody noses are
transmitted via blowjob.

lucky enough to find a bag of flames
held in reserve for midnight moments.
black smoke rescued & im born all over.
i’m feeling better with that razor edged
determinism dulled by vapid righteous
indignation. maybe it’ll even getcha off.
black smoke hides sobriety induced
visions of storytale endings. mystery
again rules supreme; can’t leach all
the fight out of this kid; not when it’s
still fun to bleed on occasion.


Thinking the fun starts tomorrow. Digga digga digga digga do. That chick giving off the girl next door vibe reminds me of a story I heard from a reprobate bastard waiting in line to buy one of those xmas tree angels from a discount retailer. In July. You don’t even want to know what that crazy fucker said he was going to do with it. For the sake of the angel, I hope it was idle chatter but don’t really believe it, much as I’d like to. It is that kind of world in times of crises. Somebody remind me what well rested feels like. That’s a kindness I’m willing to request. Oops. Shirley, you jest.

enter the fool (part one)…

Posted in afternoon requiem, Enter The Fool, Monday Poetry Potluck, Poetry, Series, sex with tags , , , , , on January 30, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

in defense of the lascivious

most impressive thing i’ve ever
seen was coming across two
parallel lines copulating in a dimly
lit carpark. i was also impressed
by visions of a perpendicular orgasm,
though less so; i know what touch
can do to overtly sensitive skin.

reverse engineered solutions to
such problems require a place
from which to reverse. times call
for baiting more than fresh breath.
a dirty secret spills from an unnamed
orifice. no question he’s lost it;

only if he ever had it.


Sometimes words can do the trick. Even when this proves not to be true, not all of us so quickly disregard tongue. This is part one of a new series of short poems. The last of the Black Smoke Chronicles will be up later this week.

from the terrace of a palatial estate…

Posted in Cigarette, Friendship, JL Stories, love n' luck, Poetry, Reader Requests, Sir Marshmellow Trowell, the lost children of the bokonists, TWTC, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on January 25, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

pterodactyls in the sky

ex post facto success & a 3 night score.
only after straightening out came my usual
liberation. dumb-fuck luck seein’ it doled
out liberally & applied fast enough to make
a difference in the dark. got something to
crow about here; if that ain’t worth a few
minutes of prepwork to get makin’s right,
what is? don’t worry about it my friend.
here; lemme get that fer ya.

i need counsel. seemingly none to be found
among oldies from The Leftover Gang; better
luck somewhere else. a voice i’m sure wasn’t
mine narrowed what’d been an abundance of
possibilities into fractional remains. no shot
at help tonight, no matter how badly needed
or honestly expressed.

blame is mine to keep as a signature souvenir
of choices made & fate challenged. it’s my
responsibility to ensure nobody knows the
real name or face of the man in charge. i
change it as often as i can since new names
are free with receipt & 5 proof of purchases
of extra strength bath salts. faces are much
more expensive.

this one way conversation goin’ back & forth
with paint stuck to the walls says only “it’s
your mess, you hafta clean it up.” how the
paint knew about the malfracted Peter Pan
side of me, i couldn’t tell you. the longer i
hashed it out with the paint, less interest
i had findin’ out why the walls were talkin’
tse tse flies while pterodactyls fill the sky.


Inspired by three comments and a facebook message that all pointed in the same direction. Dedicated to a hero from my youth whose name is as immaterial as my own.

visage in lyrical form

Posted in Extreme Spinal Pain, Late Night Silence, Lyrics, Poetry with tags , , , on January 25, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

scared to look

(verse 1)

one singularly powerful moment
in an otherwise blase affair.
judgmental impression,
the worst kind of pretension;
punishment completely unfair.
a mystery face in the mirror,
nothing is quite what it seems.
wherever we’re going,
it best not stop snowing
i don’t want to slip off to dream.


so where is this going,
what are you gettin’ at?
am i supposed to want you
with no answer for that?
there’s all kinds of problems
you can’t even see;
why waste my time pretending
you give a shit about me

(verse 2)

ordered to demand salvation,
i want only what’s owed to me;
weaknesses are all the same,
easier to lay a backup claim
to things that i’m not i’ll soon be


so where is this going,
what are you gettin’ at?
am i supposed to want you
with no answer for that?
there’s all kinds of problems
you can’t even see;
why waste my time pretending
you give a shit about me

(verse 3)

last miles of freedom on asphalt,
fighting desire to stop in my tracks;
tired & wired & got lost on the way,
ditchin’ me nights you had promised to stay,
ya disappeared & now you want me back?


where is this going,
what are you gettin’ at?
am i supposed to want you
with no answer for that?
there’s all kinds of problems
you can’t even see;
why waste my time pretending
you give a shit about me


Inspired by the most beautiful dancer I ever did see. Can’t bury everything all at once you know. Fuck it dude. Let’s go bowling. Oh, that’s right, I can’t. Damn POS spinal cord.

so do you.?.?.?

Posted in Hysterical Romance, Learning About Life, love n' luck, Poetry, sex, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , on January 24, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

i come here often

closer examination revealed it
was, & is. you’d think that’d
inspire more confidence than it
actually does; buy one, get one
half off without havin’ to ask is
standard for our swap.

funny, your smile. it mighta
been pretty too if you hadn’t
accidentally clacked your
wedding ring on the glass display
lifting your hand to play with
your gorgeous blond hair.
blushin’ & gigglin’ is kinda old-
school. i like that.

damn girl! bet he must love you.
i’m not the guilty type (regardless what
you mighta heard) so i left the store,
waitin’ until i turned my back to smile.
call me after the divorce; i’ll play the one
you cheat on instead of the one you
cheat with. because i love ya darlin’…
if only in passing.


You would be shocked at the number of times that has happened. True, there are reasons for everything most of the time, but its given me a strange conception of love in this age of scoundrels, renegades & fools. Dedicated to __________. (Well her name isn’t important yet, but if that divorce goes through…) She is one of those radiant types; if I hadn’t seen that movie before I’d probably be the one panting.

instructions from the setting sun…

Posted in Laughter, love n' luck, Monday Poetry Potluck, Music, Poetry, thoughtful trips, travel, travelogue with tags , , , , , on January 23, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

instructions from the setting sun

i swapped part of my hard won sassafras
luck for one green flash salute to the sun
as it faded from view. transfixed under
splendid emerald refractions, i wandered the
market picking through variously flavored
evening-hour solutions priced to move.

sunset argued convincingly for an immediate
administration of unconstrained-salvation. a
visiting pharmacotherapist told me to “take
what ya get.” he didn’t need to tell me twice.
background scenery changed before my eyes
& behind my back. waking up home in bed was
an expectation fulfilled after that long
conversation with the recently departed sun.

homegrown early-morning hallucinations say
i’m late to hit the road. reports of barricades
blocking sections of pavement between here
& there are yet to be confirmed, but i’ve got
faith in detours. just to be safe, i changed the
setting from ‘innocent-angel’ to ‘easy-wicked’
before gettin’ too far down to give a rational
explanation to any of the uninitiated that might
be waitin’ on me along the way.

good reason to take extra time on prep-work;
small talk banter bordering on gibberish won’t
help matters with a schedule to keep. detailed
instructions from the neighborhood star offers
part of an explanation & a promise to return soon.
another sassafras exchange gets me everything
i need assembled for travel. seven tins of madness,
gasoline & a day-ending emerald flash in the sky.

in a few breaths i’ll wake up somewhere else,
wondering where the fuck i am n’ how i got
there while trying to figure out the fastest way
back to Cayo Hueso. i’ve always wanted to see
that green flash when the sun starts playin’ a
half game of hide & seek behind the horizon.


Dedicated to the city of Key West. CoB,O may be long dead and gone but the spirit of Marvin Gardens lives on. Anyone going to MoTM 2011?

announcements from the home office…

Posted in Admin Announcements, Early Morning Silence with tags , on January 20, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

Good news is always better news when shared. With that in mind, I wanted to share a memo recently received from big wigs back at the home office. It reads, in part, “we are happy to announce the first of many changes in the works at The Fools Back Pocket. While the first change is largely cosmetic, money has been budgeted and petty cash dispensed to obtain a new domain name for the blog. The new domain, will eventually serve as the main portal to the various writings and other web ventures of the hard working staff of thousands responsible for The Fools Back Pocket. This will eventually requite integration of various concepts that will radically expand both the nature of the offerings as well as scope of interactivity available to any readers desiring further interactions with the lunatic fringe.”

The rest of the memo was corporate BS of rather low quality, all things considered. Hardly deserving of repetition here. Highlights include a store for the order of cheaply made trinkets bearing the soon to be released logo, bumper stickers emblazoned with some clever witticism ripped from the context of a poem as well as a planned site redesign.

I also wanted to take a second and thank all who’ve visited, commented, or otherwise spent their valuable time reading the rantings & musings of an openly Foolish unnamed stranger. I’m constantly amazed by the reactions and discussions generated in the comment threads. Thanks for all the support, and here’s hoping to continue expanding TFBP across the series of tubes. More poetry coming later, for now there’s mischief afoot & I’m gonna go get breakfast. It goes so well with mischief.