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TASTE OF DEATH “Come back with your shield – or on it” (Plutarch, Mor.241) the parting cry of Spartan mothers to their sons. It’s hard to think when the dogs sniffing the floor, yard mans lawnmower whining, the hydraulic crush of garbage trucks, the radio playing trip hop and your old lady’s massaging your nuts.
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TRAMP: The South Side (South Dallas Blues) “You know the boys in the hood are always hard. Come talking that trash we’ll pull your card. Knowing nothing in life but to be legit, Don’t quote me boy ‘cause I ain’t said shit.” -Eazy E -NWA “What choo doin?”
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American Woman 1999 DMT (part 1) “Don’t come hangin’ ’round my door I don’t wanna see your face no more I got more important things to do Than spend my time growin’ old with you” -Lenny Kravitz Monika’ Elisabeth Whittaker didn’t have any female friends, but today she’s trying to set her best friend Aaron
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TRAMP: Looking Forward final edit by Joey Da’rrell Cloudy Nathan and Mona were both looking forward to Aaron’s arrival. Besides enjoying his company, his presence forestalled their quarreling. Things had become difficult between them since Mona stopped having sleeping with Nathan as she began to pursue a serious relationship with Aarons young poetry mentor Trevor Dixon.
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Waiting for the Miracle. Watching her barefoot body moving to invisible music, she is a sentient flower dancing with the wind. And “I just want to destroy something Beautiful.”
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The Science of Poetry I Einstein’s incendiary ideas words arranged in an idea of order mathematical sequencing it is the intellectual alchemy of the dead watchmaker thoughts boiled in time reduced in a nanosecond of synaptic flash to the ashen essence of humanity the pure black symmetry of silhouette in shadow tarot cards tossed into
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“I Predict Pain” -Clubber Lang I’d been training hard every day for a year and had bruised the ribs of Marines twice the size of the tall drink of water in the opposite corner. Figured I’d punch a hole through this skinny kid from New York. My corner man tells me to be careful “
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True Bromance He was my first hipster hat on his silver head, harmonica in hand 2002, 50 year old Mike on the mic Clay man takes the stage at the velvet hookah, a genuine too cool for Sunday school house rocking stray cat scatting our grateful dead white and blues period. This is not another
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Fool “Centuries ago it had an ‘e’ at the end.” -H. F. I speak to you with out the faith offered by the pope, But “the illusion of faith offered by drugs, rock music, and contemporary poetry.” I speak to you with a mouth full of broken vows and blood, but the voice of the
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My Goth Name Is Becky a Blues poem for Sarah Vowell. I sing the suburban American girl electric blues. I sing the red haired, white skinned, blues eyed girl bottom shelf vodka tonic ice blues. I sing the suffragette, subjugated, suppression blues. Harmonic wail of the locomotive steel slide upscale dive bar blues. Twenty first century
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