Archive for May, 2011

souvenir…

Posted in BSC, bumper sticker stories, Cigarette, Ha Ha Funny, History, Learning About Life, Poetry, TWTC with tags , , , , , , on May 31, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

souvenir

my baseball bat does most of
the work when it comes to
disposing any leftover souvenirs
from sometime prior-to. course
i’ve got enough kerosene to do
the job, but it’s cathartic to smash
before you burn, if we’re gonna
be sensible about all this,,,

pictures burn best & picture frames
smash easier than pieces of
paper exposing the asshole i mighta
been back in my asshole days.
right now a snake slithers across
pondscum water baking in sunlight
(code red kinda day i’m told.)

me & a cigarette both burn in the sun;
too fucking muggy to think about
past lives. i stabbed my
still-burning cigarette out in a
clamshell ashtray i found
on some forgotten beach
trip. don’t remember
when or where.

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quasar the vermillion dust (part 2)…

Posted in Cigarette, Poetry, Quasar The Vermillion Dust, Series with tags , , , , , on May 31, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

“heresy on the potomac”

lemming-angels on parade. there
is no crossing post vigil on Vine
Street, where kids play in the street,
fiddling around with zippos running low
on fuel. even with the flint ground
low & sparks hard to come by
everything still gets lit.

all the words spoken, written &
thought require more than is asked
with them. pseudo-intellectual ex-
pressions in daily vernacular. those
dirty looks shot my way feed my ego;
real hatred is as inspired as deep
love but given voice so much easier
than prayer.

shower-clean frame emergent
archetypical; any who follow must
(by all theory) listen to the words &
music. some go on to prove it later,
others sit in creaky chairs telling
stories about that time spit & paper
came together to build a better
cigarette.

quasar the vermillion dust (part 1)…

Posted in Poetry, Quasar The Vermillion Dust, Series, travel, TWTC with tags , , , , , , , on May 29, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

“as in as was”

knife & a candle or maybe
a bic lighter glowing or
causing the glow. i gave up
trying to figure it out a long
time ago & you should too.
even if i had a dorsal fin
& sharp teeth & cruised
the beach looking for dinner
(as is said by some)
i doubt you’d get more than
a groan from the piss-puddle
jumpers. what can you say
but tough crowd?

fins & teeth to the side; i’m
hungry but for the moment
i’m settling down to listen to
JH trying to crawl out of Wain-
wrights Strange Weirdos. yeah,
symbolism & all that is a
regular motherfucker these days;
tell me all about it.

i’d chat more with the mirror,
but like i said, i’m hungry &
the line gets longer while we
talk. supersonically staying in
one place won’t get me there
any faster. i’m not sure if that
growl was from stomach or eyes,
so far past equivalency of
the moment.

i’ll chew, lick & swallow until
satiation. same as always,
at least when asked.

———————————————————

New series using coincidence as a thematic property. No new form, just irony as it shows itself to me while I wander. Hope you might enjoy it.

marisol reviews the attendent literature…

Posted in Cigarette, Early Morning Silence, Marisol, Music, Poetry, thoughtful trips, travel, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , on May 28, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

someday

expressively styled by time spent
& a little excess.
no plan to follow
& never too many mornings
waking up to your alarm.

one invitation
was enough to get you here;
looking past unexplainable miracles,
fate or destiny, etc.
that kind of thing
never was my specialty,
even in the years
when nothing was as
probable as everything.

there isn’t any rationale: i
forgot to read your words & licking
the hand holding the pen is my
way of speaking to you while
you move around the room.

everything in time. three minutes
after forever, who will know the
prescience of momentary stillness
just before you take me home?
as you assure me you’ll stay
another night we admire
the inside view from the others
mask. even a kiss that
trumps zirconium conversations.
all questions will arrive;
how & when
is anybody’s guess.

quizzical reflections on
pirate princess radio
with just enough static
to remind us of summer trips.
climbing from bed after
a five year daydream with
frequent pause for
cigarette fantasy-fulfillment
moments; the last of the
immortals reminds us that
sometimes forever is just
a really long time.

————————————————

Nice flip-flops. We know the ending already. The fun part is finding out how we get there. So… how do we get there?.

cheap cigars…

Posted in Ha Ha Funny, JL Stories, Laughter, Poetry with tags , , , on May 28, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

cheap cigars

found six swiss army knives
scattered around the house. none
had much of an edge to the blade
but 3
were heavy enough
to break glass.
i ran out of windows
before running out of
red handled knives.

nature of the world
i guess.

where’s your head?.?.?.

Posted in afternoon requiem, Philosophy, Poetry, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , on May 26, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

i didn’t ask

sometimes the answer comes
before the question hits music
& clothes drop off. by now all
the words are scrambled with
clean laundry challenges to
direct the action ever farther
down from intelligent creation
to intelligent usage. i have seen
a face.

but i can’t
find my head. i was arguing with
theophiles & guitarists over some
missed string here or there, a
leibnitzian nightmare to jump from
that precipice because our hero
might be down there & i’ve got
questions for him.

unless spinoza is looking to advise
re: harder, stronger, longer,
it’ll have to wait. abstract discussion
being more my style; i’ll give it to the
junkies to play with while i attend to
something more corporeal. (see,
i can get my head out of the clouds
every once in a while.)

———————————————

Penny ante psychology. You get what you pay for, but assuming you know this at the outset, it isn’t that important. Next time you’re arguing over the meaning of life, spend some time asking why life needs meaning. Just a thought.

musbeok…

Posted in Funny Morning Stories, Joe Henry, Learning About Life, Music, Poetry with tags , , , , on May 24, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

nice to meet me

after a shortly interminable drive
i let myself outta my car on
beachline & drove off to grab at
clouds floating on the surf
& turtles lodged in the sand.

much as i’d rather stare seaward
& decide on possible surprise endings,
there’s no time because i know
i’m already omphaloskeptic & bloody
to boot. maybe an accident
nobody saw coming?

musbeok;
vagrant screams are absent in
my windpipe. i didn’t bother to
warn me that you gotta
slice the bad bits off yourself
when there ain’t a soul around
to do it for you.

found a sunburned sonofabitch
callin’ himself by my name
waiting for a
ride back from the beach.
took the first chance to go along
& get along, he threw down
with a few bars from his favorite
song. i sang backup
so he could sing lead.

this asshole knew
all the hits. by the time we’d gone from
sand to dirt, we’d hit most of the
majors & even a few of the minors.
like i said;
musbeok.

————————————————————–

Music saves the day. Thanks Mr. Henry, you saved my ass AGAIN. (For someone I will never meet, I owe you a shitload man. Pay it forward, right?). And no, the poem isn’t ABOUT Joe Henry, it’s about something else completely. JH is just my idol.