June 20, 2015

A Most Dangerous Game



The prisoner is strapped to a guerney, he whispers to the Vice President as the clamps tighten and an electrical current surges, causing blackouts, and fibrillations.

The VP wears a leather mask with a zipper up the back.

His chest is naked.  He is old, and saggy with silver hair.

The prisoner is silently screaming.  His eyes are bugging out.

There is a video camera recording the event.  It is a performance of sorts.

Behind the mirrored windows, the President sits eating popcorn.

Is this scene being streamed?  Yes.

A cabal of International politicians and businessmen watch the spectacle.  Some watch on tiny screens from their phones;  others gather and watch on large screens, drinking beer and eating nachos.

The Canadian Prime Minister is in his office watching on his computer.  He is wearing a powder blue pullover sweater.  He is applying makeup.  He takes a selfie, hits send and messages his Minister of Immigration- OMG! Are you watching this?

The Heads of State, the G-8 watch their screens; they listen to the screams.

In a twist on the classic torture scene where a victim would then be submerged in a tank of ice water, The Veep pulls a lever and the guerney rises from the foot end, lowering the strapped man's head into a barrel.

Inside the barrel is pork.

Live pork, aka pigs.

It is the proverbial pork barrel, full of snarling pigs, grunting and squealing.

Except the pigs resemble Mitch McConnell.

The VP looks into the camera with his familiar smirk.  He winks.

June 13, 2015

Fresh Twisted Wolves- Obama's Deadly Curse Predicted

This is SPAM Poetry. Not a poetry slam, but spam disected, cut and pasted, created, disembowled for mass consumption.       

Men taste small with side bar eyes

thus the management show us cozy croquettes

fabulous pointed driving music

hot excited democratic monosyllabic Chicago heritage 

districts never publish their price

look north, found reasonable man

family bare received tacos

madman ribs establishment

desserts there hairy

this jersey vegetarian visiting ignorance

10 steaks returned  

No doubt Mr Big has cooked

flabby though looked violet

dim beat friday

welcoming one percent windup

boys were hard 

come fantastic

let's keep talking 

man sentenced to 6 years 

63 counts, dozens of victims

happy friend forms universe exactly like book 

martini lunch experience absolutely authentic

chicken cream increased

suddenly England sauce- tasty deferentially mince 

Great! Amazing! It’s minutes, seconds with bacon

collapsed potatoes, rotty marble flora 

"Awesome news," says anyone 

extra lingerie where cheese spotted 

Between eating everything, the hungry world treated extremely 

Go gentle wife - dream often 
entire hours 
ingredients for glowing stupidity 
second quality mess 
future’s  brightened volume makes life bigger 

accommodating pit vibrating open, too spicy 

alluding god knows what christlikeness 

Created different daemons  

lost public feeling 

survival score raw and stuffed 

society traveling south without taste

your perfectly upscale  chinese script 

Grab this broody summer beyond surprise 

Bubbling death economy clouds magic love impending 

almost rural wolves finally minced 

crowd disappointed with the fresh twisted wolves 

April 26, 2015

a scream swallowed

a scream swallowed
the storm before
the calm could breathe
an urge to spit out
every moment
expression endlessly parsed
examined and exhumed

it is a palpable hell inside here
a bitter metallic flavour expunges
tomorrow is on hold
today is cancelled

What reason? Rain would be preferable.

Instead a fear of sighs and shallow breathing
I question myself
will today be the day
my frozen feelings are found out?

there is no thawing of the cramps
my pauses become paralysis
my muscles clench
panic is paramount
it rues the roost

I remember the words of caution
if the muscles do not open
do not consume
they must be bad
do not consume
you risk further poisoning

Best to breathe
put one fret forward
but for today there is no way
to relax
or relive
to relieve
or believe
that the acid which accumulates
in the pit of my depression

the panic that pools
cannot be stirred shaken or strained
only swallowed
choked down

a swallow screams
and longs to fly

February 15, 2015

12 inch Judy

Who doesn't love a 12 inch Judy?
With blonde white yak hair.
This is the question I ponder on a sunny February day.

January 17, 2015

One Too Many

I wake to push the limits of a dream
to confront my fears and demons
to put the night back in the box
to capture all the night weasals
add color to empty easels
overcome cholera and measles
you must learn to fly in your dreams before you walk
before you talk you must move
from the center of the dream
to the edges of waking and wanting and having
to the edges of believing and living

Do you have to believe in something
just to want to live in something solid
to love somebody fluid
that is the essence of desire
the wanting and the having
the mystery of the other
it's mind over mother
pushing both farther and father
stretching the lie, blurring the lines
forgetting the story losing the script
making it up as you go along

you cannot troll the surface
you have to dig deep to find the meaning
to get the the cherry the prize in the box
so you search only to find
just another tool in the box
a curling iron and ironing board
bored and ironic
irony curling and curing
the lines keep on blurring
there are limits to living
there are limits to believing

others  may be living outside the law
even mothers can be outsiders
dads are no different
they live outside the law
outside the womb waiting
fathers are always left wanting
like strangers in a crowd of crows

famous words of wisdom that I told my chickadee
: don't eat anything bigger than your head:
this was my sage advice
Only to have my daughter tell me, on one sunny day
we see two men walking down the street
arm in arm, one bare chested with nipple rings
and a pair of sunglasses dangling from the ring,
"Dad, this is where I draw the line."

childen must be taught but they also must be listened to
same wise daughter reminds me to color outside the lines
Outside the lines outside the dream,
I want to retaste the candy of my youth
to go all throwback thirsty
gorging on memories and
pictures filled with beauty
marks moles, but in the end we are just meat
different cuts of meat

there is the  beauty and there is the butcher
carving out a piece for only themselves
baring their souls then serving with pecuniary permission
souls with cutlery and culinary peculiarities
it is sweetbreads and cod lips
only petty cash and peonies
slavery and solving puzzles
ointments and unguents
salving and having
this is how we feed the imagination

This is how you open a life
baring your soul in public
it is learning to live with your heart wide open 
it is deciding just how open your heart can be and still be living
can you live with your heart open?
Are you ready to receive ready to be ready to live to love
 are you still hungry for food and friends?

there are too many hearts yet to break
to crack open to attack with a pen a pole
a poke a roll in the sack
Only you can decide the laws to follow
it is not without consequence
But you get to be honest or not
you can push away the loss and dross
you can journey to the hole of the donut
to expand upon the soft gooey center
you must make the rules to break the rules
there are sorting decisions there are edits and incisions that can be made
in the end there is only one question that matters
how far can you stretch your heart
how far can you stretch your holes
to receive love and life and madness and sadness
before deciding that you can only have
one too many assholes in your life?

January 9, 2015

Before and After

Before and after.

RCA- not the dog listening to his Master in the megaphone, but the
Right Coronary Artery.
May 21 2007.
100% blocked.

May 22 2007.
RCA - the river runs through it.  Through the miracle of modern science and a deal with God struck up in the air above NY on the way to Atlanta.
God, I said.
If you are there.
I have had a great life.
But if there is a reason for me to still be here, if there is still more for me to do, please get me to Atlanta.
And I arrived.  And I made a joke about the widow maker, and ended up in an emergency room, and I survived to tell this story.  A story of how a small piece of chicken wire opens my heart to an expanded life.

Flash forward 8 years.

Some friends of mine are no longer here.  They did not have the opportunity or fortune to survive.
Dave Gregg.
Brian Goble.
There are more.
Wendy Dobreiner.
My love and best of the best of good thoughts go out to all of them.
Christ, I miss them.   Too young.

2014 was another year of growth and wonder, and death and beauty.

There was a time and it returns from time to time where I feel I have a time bomb in my chest.

Rather than making life seems more dear and precious, I feel the need to push.

Push myself to new adventures.  New music.  New relationships.

Because to stay still to stay constant to not change is to die a little each day.

And I can't make time for that.

I am grateful for this bonus, this extra life and I am grateful for all the friends who I have seen in the past week who reignite memories from our past.

These beautiful people who are real people with real lives, who without any help from me, without any attention or contact from me, continue to live and breathe and make their own memories.

Which makes me feel insignificant and special - all at the same time.

And we have a new year upon us.

Who survives?

Who finds love?

Who becomes a grandparent?

Who loses a parent?

Who gets flowers this weekend?

Who gets to have such great fortune as I have had this past year?

Truly I wish that you all have an unbelievable new year.  That you have an incredible month, week, day.

Because at a certain point, like maybe the day after you are born, it is all a bonus.

Life is a gift.   Open it.   Take it home and love it.   Hold it close to your heart.

Listen to it's song.   Read it's story.  Life it like you will not live another day.

Because we never know.

Don't wait for anything.  Take it and make it yours.

Find someone or something to love.

And love it with all your heart.

October 11, 2014

As Above, So Below Me

The night is broken up into small sections of almost sleep and almost dreaming so that when morning finally comes, it is almost a relief.  My first thought upon waking and perhaps it was the first thought of all men, is what is the origin of the word(s) blow job/ blowjob?

With my trusty God in my Hand (now running on less than 10% battery) I google this curiousity.  I am directed to sites that upon clicking, try to take me to places I do not want to go.  To sites that try to download, install or convert my God in Hand to their own nefarious devices.  Finally, I find the answers at answers.com.  Note to self: if I want to find myself, go to myself.com.  If you want to find God, go to god.com.  I digress.
And I confess that this post will mostly be about digressions, unless it will be about transgressions.  I transgress.

As in sleep, so as in thinking.  Blowjobs or BJs as they henceforth will be called to reduce my cramping of the wrists, and dulling of the fingertips, came from, I mean derive from either a) below jobs, as in As above, so below ( below contracting to express itself as blow); b) some deriviation on jazz flute studies; c) a crossover from gay culture, soldier culture, gun culture, i.e. Happiness is a Warm Gun; d) the Dutch - who besides being great cleaners, were of course the original traders, drawing links between sausages, pipes and "pippen", meaning trouser legs, or pipe-cleaners, meaning an act of someone cleaning the trouser legs with someone's tongue, or once again, playing the pipes as in fluted reverence, but not a reference to the Scots or bagpipes, because that is a tea bag of a different color; e) E is for e-commerce, ego, and the question on everyone's mind, which is to blow or to suck; f) a convoluted joke about Honolulu and Casablanca, the joke centering on the shape that the mouth makes when saying said words ( I know that all readers who are still with me here are now mouthing those words and realizing that there is a curl of the tongue with Honolulu and an opening of the throat with Casablanca; g) Casablanca - which the Masters of Film will debate as the best film of all time featuring Ingrid Bergman - who instructs us that a kiss is just a kiss, and the how-to is to put our lips together and blow ( and really, is that kind of kiss just a kiss?), and speaking of Kiss, we know that Gene Simmons is an asshole and that he has a long tongue, well, nevermind (Ass Above, Ass below) ; h) Casa blanca translates to White House, which Goes like a Building on Fire to Monica Lewinsky, Clinton and Cigars in the Oval Office (where were Nixon's surveillance tapes when we needed them?); i) if a morning wood falls in the forest, is it really a sound or more of a song?; j) Christopher Hitchen's article in Vanity Fair from 2006 As American as Apple Pie, which with the advance of the God in Hand apple device can now read As Apple as American Pie - all male writers now proceed to http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/features/2006/07/hitchens200607 ( please do come back, as the girls in France say); k) Hitchens takes us to Hermeticism and the phrase As Above, So Below, now reconstructed as As Above the Belt, so Below the Belt; l) Hermeticism taking us to The Magician and the tarot, which is good fortune and there is no better fortune than a BJ in the morning; m) This Morning Wood  is brought to you by the Letter M as in mmmmm, or M&M (melts in your mouth not in your hand) or Mickey Mouth (famous Vietnamese hooker during War we would all rather forget); n) Nabokov who remarks," Knowing the magic and might of her own soft mouth, she managed....." (you don't think I am going to quote the whole book now do you?);  O) which is a story in and of itself, in fact for the dense out there, is called The Story of O, and o) also now being an emoticon that we can all get our mouths and minds around; p) everyone needs a p especially in the morning; q) if you are minding your p's, you better not forget your q's ; r) Arr, R, the original raw, rah-rah reference point, as in doing it in the raw (all the boys on the football team loved her, cause she was so very hard to beat, they all loved and respected her, but she thought of them as raw meat- rah rah rah meat, rah rah rah meat ( dense milt lyric from god knows when); s) for sibilant, the s sound hisses and herrs, it purrs and it sucks (but does it blow?); t) is the cross, is the trinity As Above, So Below evoking a lifetime of priests prostrating themselves and their supplicants, in the beginning was the Word, and the word was good, and the word was Blow (as in blow me down, matey/ shiver me timbers, I said Timber as the morning wood fell, no Tim-bits here, just a Double Double); u) how can we talk about BJs without talking about u?  ; v) V is so  very very close to VJ which was not the day the Japanese surrendered but surely or Shirley the day I surrendered to Shirley in the booth in the back in the corner in the dark; w) Who,What,Where and Why? sounding like a law firm, or an invitation to a philosophical discussion featuring the former President of the United States, Dollar Bill and his dear wife, the former Miss Rodham (I am sure he calls her that in the privacy of their surveillance); x) XXX- the original Deep Throat - apparently it all is related to breathing out to relax the back of the throat, hence the "blowing"; y) If after going through the whole alphabet you are going to ask me Y?, then you should be checking your Facebook and cleaning your bathroom, or taking out the evening's trash in the morning; z) Zzzzz's- if I had got enough of the zzzz's, I wouldn't have awakened and would not have had the thought pop up in my mind of what is the origin of the word(s) blow job, and none of this would have happened, it would all have been a dream, a horrible horrible dream, well maybe not so horrible, but definitely damp, in fact almost wet that dream was, and what a dream that wet dream was, and Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't Fuzzy, was he?