Goatee, ETC.

black beret - man, what can I say
dark sunglasses - I got it I got it

goatee - ETC. - stylin’ and profilin’

poems in hand - deeper than sand

coffee mug half full 

copious amounts of stimulants

bongos - a must have

acoustic guitar - make me a star

black turtleneck sweater

got all I need to speed

the ultimate cool, top shelf

beatnik so cool I’m ice cold 

let me lay some poetry on ya

stay up all night (see line 6)

head over to the diner

where the cool cats hang

I dig, I’m hip, it’s crazy

hang out in the coffee shops

hang out in the bookstores

I got some abstract for your concrete

the answers are out in the street

don’t be no fool

come over to our side of cool

don’t pay no attention to big daddy

he don’t know how to get kicks

Gary, Indiana

abandoned buildings
                   buildings burned out with no roofs

                   broken or boarded-up windows...or bricked over

pothole city

             city where you don’t stop for no stop signs

                                      don’t wanna be approached 

                                      don’t wanna get shot

steel mill down for the count

                down goes Gary! down goes Gary!

                knocked out lying on its back

a town full of ghosts

                       ghosts of a better time

          bemoaning and groaning

downtown full of empty stores

                             empty broken sidewalks

                             empty dreams and nightmares all too full of reality 

half the population done gone

    gone gone gone the city on the move

                                        that was their slogan, now dead in the water

an apocalypse standing still

  still an apocalypse 

                             lying still in the morgue

                               

Michael Jackson

Karl Malden 

Vivian Carter - Vee-Jay Records 

Gary Memorial Auditorium 

Elbert H. Gary

R.I.P. 

R.I.P.  Gary, Indiana

Just A Scribbler

I’m just a scribbler in a rock and roll band
the one in the shadows shadows shadows

behind the camera, behind the soundboard

behind the keyboard (not the musical kind)

not behind blue eyes though

more like behind the 8 ball

“pay no attention to that man behind the curtain”

and no one does

some of us claim we don’t want the attention

better to stay holed-up in some crappy place

too hot in the summer

too cold in the winter

groaning pipes and creaky floors

feels like a fifth floor walk up with only four floors

very few people understand a writer 

I once had a girlfriend who I thought understood me

we were soul mates or some such thing we said

I guess she thought she was better off dead

one day she just threw herself in front of a train

in an early morning august rain 

I didn’t feel anything really/// 

just numb 

I stayed in my room and wrote as if nothing had happened 

what more could be done 

/////

but it’s better than digging ditches I guess

although that’s work where you don’t hafta think

don’t make no difference to the bottle what you are

no true poet dies of nothing else than

some kind of suicide

drinking themselves to death for instance 

you just get tired of it all after a while

Somewhere In The Mountains

when the time comes and it will come most assuredly
throw my ashes and bone fragments in the mountains

don’t really care which mountains

Green, Rocky, Smoky...I love them all

among the pines and the lines of the mountaintops

on the rocks and in the vegetation

this will be my final station

in the forest among the birch, maples, oak 

surrounded by my loved ones

the bears, foxes, deer, maybe some wolves

the multi-colored birds sing to me their songs

hope it’s a cold cloudy gray foggy day

snow in the air or rain falling to the ground

I’ll lay down and hug the dirt without making a sound

can’t think of a better place to be

than to be scattered next to a tree

big roots, fallen leaves, deadwood nearby

there’s no need to cry

I’m where I was happiest in life

far away far away

I’ll be happy there in death  

be away far away

to use a favorite phrase

cloud-hidden, whereabouts unknown

The Great Outdoors

the great outdoors is only great
when there aren’t any two-legged roaches crawling around

out of the woodwork and into your cereal 

cool and windy today under sunny skies

thankfully roaches are at a minimum 

pulpit rock colorado 

sounds a little too religious for me but whatever

it is what it is 

summit - that’s the goal today 

up the gray sand to the top

remember it’s not the altitude it’s the attitude 

one misstep away from serious injury

falling into a washed out gully off the beaten path

and feeling beaten 

or even overcome by death

winded and wobbling passed by a dog

scampering up the hill

wish I had his energy///he’s in better shape than I

heartbeat is more like a heart that’s beat

telling me “far enough”

the mile high thin air has got me

at least that’s what I tell myself 

I could collapse and roll downhill 

across the busy four-lane

into the emergency room of the hospital 

conveniently located across the street 

yelling at the poor security guard on the way in

as almost everyone does

my legs are as sturdy as wet paper 

I won’t reach the summit - I saw the dog did

after sitting on a rock catching my elusive breath 

I slink down to the truck 

grab a coke and a filet-O-fish on the way home 

longing for days when a younger man was wrapped around these bones

My Stellar Career

after my stellar career of working
8 to 5 in a alternately broiling

or freezing warehouse for years 

which ended not with a gold watch

but with a ‘your services are no longer required’

impersonal telephone call on a sunday night

from an always coldly impersonal... very cold

human relations department employee 

‘human relations’ ...it doesn’t say what kind 

human relations usually mean bad news 

I took a gap year like the cool college kids do

then I proceeded to perform a series of odd jobs 

working with odd people 

which eventually drove me to drink 

for which I am profusely grateful for

better to be alone than with fools

buddha said that

relationships often turn into sunken ships 

alexander says that

you can’t always judge a book by its cover 

but a lot of times you can get the gist of it

and you’re not wrong

don’t need to be no new york times literary critic to figure it out 

Campground

I stuck my head out of my old winnebago
that’s seen better days but so too have I, so too have I

it was a cold frosty mug of root beer morning

invigorating...giving you 

that good to be alive feeling 

in a jellybear campground in the smoky mountains

among the fraser fir and red spruce

the black bears, eastern cougars and red foxes

the ever friendly northern copperhead 

hot coffee bubbling in the percolator 

a hot cup gets the blood churning 

a brisk walk around the campground 

I’m one of the few hardy people in the here and now

sticks snapping underfoot, blue birds in brown trees

building a piping hot fire to cook breakfast over

so much more real than using the camper stove

an egg and bacon will do nicely 

another few days here

then it’s back on the road again 

destination unplanned 

Out Of The Blue

what’s that bolt from out of the blue?
I thought the melody might make someone smile

a recollection of a good time sometime somewhere 

somebody might appreciate it

a younger time, a younger place in a younger world

up at that place on grant avenue you remember

hanging out hanging in hanging on

bus downtown bus uptown bus crosstown

in the rain in the snow

not good for us what did we know?

learned a lot - saw a lot - forgot a lot

some of them folks ain’t here no more

think about them from time to time

brings a smile to this weary mind

life goes on though don’t it? life goes on

even loved ones 

some days don’t think about them at all

lose myself in the bars

lose my head in the sound

slowly melt into the ground 

staring into space listening to the pound

ain’t got much more to hang on 

it’s not the same anymore 

let me have one more happy hour 

one last ready- one last set- one last go around

Unlucky Star

only explanation is being born under an unlucky star
this feeling of a black cloud over my head

a black dog following me around all the time

I mean serious black

wanted to uncover it all and know the truth

searching for a shred of proof

trekked to the source once but it was closed for the season

got a ticket for my karma speeding through the universe 

my meditation was the waterfall crashing upon the rocks

smoke from incense dancing round and round

to the sound of a song of silence 

I’ve always been a ship without a rudder

...drifting, drifting into uncharted waters full of sharks

once met a girl from cincinnati

thought we had something going

she was a lost soul, but I was as lost than she was

couldn’t help her find herself

my love for anyone is always behind an 8 ball 

there’s too much crying in the world 

my understanding of things is sometimes too good for my own good

the truth was I didn’t really want to know the truth

I just don’t care anymore...I really don’t

laid in the sand hoping the tides would pull me out to sea

the ocean speaks to us every time it rushes the shore SWISSSH SWISSSSSSH

in the middle of night in the middle of some serious drinking it began to rain 

does rain happen because the clouds are crying?