ARE YOU OKAY? A random poem in memory.

ARE YOU OKAY? A random poem in memory

Mister, are you okay?
Little kid,
Standing on the street,
Silent night,
Oh what a night,
1978,
Bombs bursting in air.

She, that horror love story breakup tease, nightmares in clever monotone speech,
Candles burning in solemn refuge,
Seamless, scenes, cut out of Time magazine,
She lies in pale moonlight,
Pale skin,
Star brushed blue eyes,
Sacrifice,
Eight rows high,
First kiss at a ball game,
First blowjob at a swap meet.

Mind fuck,
A disease,
To find,
A bitter end,
Quickly released
Into the wild.

A warped sense of destiny on your knees,
Laughing at distorted images,
Projected on the screen.
Just finding myself,
On that road,
To misery,
To light,
To happiness,
To sorrow,
In memories.

Oh how I wish it was me,
Who made her smile,
That special day,
2003,
Vacations on the moon,
Love beyond that midnight sky,
Looking into heaven,
Plans of future,
Shattered.
Broken like glass,
Ripped apart,
Thrown to the winds,
Like seeds,
Dead upon arrival,
Dawn to days,
Back to evenings,
Squares trying to be hip,
Standing in the square,
Snorting coke off mirrors,
Dollar bills,
All alone in a flat,
You okay?

6 am,
Saturday mourn,
Licking old wounds,
With Jim Boom,
That cheap shit,
City dead,
Sleeping in a cardboard box,
Rejection letter,
Five minute read,
Too long.
So long.
Final notice,
Overdue,
Lettuce wilted,
Got it from a garbage can
From behind the Safeway store,
Same with the meat,
The world too.

So long,
Live well,
I shall see you,
There,
On the hallow streets,
Free,
Wind beneath your wings,
Making it, smiling,
Wave,
Then run away,
Fly away,
See the sea,
Dear John,
Goodbye....

Everything has worth - even a turd!

I walk the streets of a rich, artsy neighborhood.

Trust kids writing and painting, Ive moved up from my living under a tree days.

There's still homeless people, even though our President and his supporters say the job market is doing great.

I was homeless.

I had a job.

I was making 800 bucks.

Rent was 900.

So there I was, homeless.

I was still writing, drinking beer, as a way for sleep.

Everyone wonders why the homeless drink.

How else do you fall asleep when you're too scared to fall asleep?

I have a house now, a condo, but not because of anything our government has done or hasn't done.

I remember, everyone is 1 misstep from becoming a homeless reject.

People see you as trash when you are homeless.

No one is trash.

Everyone has worth.

Even a turd.

Everyone, even the rich, are one step away from being in that place, homeless.

To be screamed at, GET A JOB, even though you have one.

I wish people would remember, everyone has a worth.

Sweet dreams - a sleepless nighr poem

Into the dark night we go,
Soulless wonders wandering,
Aimlessly through fogs,
Of memories,
Dreams,
Lost passions,
Sleepless tossings,
Faces brought from past lusts,
Fucks,
Driven mad from bargain basement,
Trivets tossed aside,
As useless trash,
Battles of wit,
Without a wit to spare,
Spar nightmares,
Rusted armor knights,
Fleeing angel haired youths,
Into the sleepless night,
Pain,
Seeps into dust
Dreams, where are thou?

Maniac depressive thrusts,
Angels without wings,
Halos busted,
Random poets, 4am,
Cannot find the bed,
Cannot find the sleep,
Wind chimes chime,
Pleasantly,
With whispers from the night,
A howl to Mother Moon,
Police siren down the street.

Lovers quarrel,
Hush,
They'll hear us on the moon,
Faked love,
Simple warm kisses,
Lies in lust,
A quick fuck,
Before that good night,
Jumping on a train,
Good luck?

Jimmy, where are you now?
Dead,
Twenty Five years,
Ten months,
And 7 days.
Killed by
A bullet to the brain,
College freshman,
What did they say?
Depression?
What could they say?
No more,
No less,
What's a pill to do but repress?

Here I am,
You,
My golden boy,
The best,
Of the best,
Never age,
As I grow older,
Looking in the mirror,
Who is that old man?
I hear myself say,
Sleepless night,
Thoughts,
Memories,
Future things,
To hear those chimes,
To hear my own brain,
To wish for that sweet sleep,
To dream,
To dream,
To wish for that sweet embrace.

A LATE NIGHT RAMBLING - A RANDOM POEM

A LATE NIGHT RAMBLING - A RANDOM POEM

Sitting on the corner,
A dirty street,
Lies burned into the TV screen
Called the evening news.
Five shot dead;
Sad smiling face,
Children of the street,
Homeless,
Sad smiling bright face,
News man shuffles his white sheets of paper,
Two more dead,
Tragic,
Heroic deeds by someone's sister,
Brother,
Who knows,
On to the weather,
Sunshine in rich,
The poor get rain,
It seemingly is the rage

I decide to erase my brain,
Start over,
Reboot the ignorance,
Watch the moon explode into space,
Rejection, that word sprayed across my face,
Communists smoking marijuana, 1983,
Before the senile oafs we call Senators made it such a craze.
Corporate rape,
Rage,
Eating eggs off buttered toast,
Now, don't give a shit,
1998,
It all changes,
Does it?
Fuck it,
There's a train,
A train for change?
No one knows,
Nor do they care,
It's the new craze,
Jump on board,
Jump in front of.
Beating of the drum,
In rhythm with the brain,
Thump,
Thump,
Drum,
Dump.
Dumb
The pump don't work,
Somebody stole the handle,
The key use to be under that rock,
But damn if they didn't take that too!

When it pisses,
We call it rain,
OH happy day,
The flowers say,
It finally begins to,
What the shit is this?

Hero in the streets,
An angry fix there,
Walter killed himself,
A day before he turned 25.
A rainy day indeed,
The sheets,
Bloody and torn,
Ripped,
Riped?
Blood clinging to the wall,
Should have hanged himself,
Mother is in denial,
Father does not weep,
Sister ran away from home.
Can't sleep,
Too damn many waves,
Trains,
Screaming through my brain.

Whispers in the night,
Weeps,
Tears,
Bottles poured into mouth,
Vomit out the pain.
Senses dulled,
Removed from any sense of reality,
Shame that next day!

Cast out the demons,
The preacher preaches,
Rotten peaches,
Smelling like dead babies in a steaming jungle,
Screams in erotica,
Cast out visions of orgasmic death scenes
On that TV,
Mother lies,
Father lies,
Whole families lie in wait,
A crystal blank face,
Drink to kill that pain
To feel nothing but a breeze of a fly's wings.
Insanity?
Better to be insane
Than right with the sane mob,
Killing all the differences.

Sing,
To herald the light,
To banish that darkness,
Outside,
Scream,
End scene.
FADE TO BLACK

THE HOMELESS GUIDE TO LIFE, THE UNIVERSE AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN - Chapter one

 THE HOMELESS GUIDE TO LIFE, THE UNIVERSE AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN

Video - Johnny Cash - Hurt

Dedicated to open fields and open beers, and a girl we shall call Martha!

Note to the dear reader(s) - Back in the summer of 2017, I, your dear author, spent a little over a month homeless.

I was pretty damn lucky, had some friends who let me crash at their place when I first lost my dearly departed parents' house to the big bad wolf (or state, matters who tells the story - a long story deserving its own book and movie starring Tom Cruise as me!!!)

The windows were the air, the floor was the soft grass(weeds) under a roof of a large tree's branches covering my head in a place I called Camp Bob.

It was a good place to lay down a tarp on the ground, to lie there and stare up into the night sky, watching the stars do their dance as I drank a few beers I had bought from the grocery store I worked at as a cashier.

Yes, my dead reader, I had a job, it paid enough for a life of beer, chicken and donuts.

Luckily, this was in the summer, little rain and very few fellow "campers" (besides myself, there was not a soul at the small park I called home).

I was a king in a land of tall weeds and deranged geese who guarded me from the bogey man who lurked at 3 in the morning, howling wildly and snarling at my guardians.

I started a journal, as I sat at the steel picnic tables scattered through the area.

And maybe someday, I will try to finish this "guide" to not just the homeless life, but my life in general.

In this section of my life, I learned that even as a homeless grocery store cashier, I wasn't even close to the lowest pits of Hell, there were others worse off than me; families with small children wandering the streets looking for shelter, a bit of food.

Folks who mere weeks ago had a home, a roof over their head, like me, who had just hit a huge bump in the road.

There are resources out there for folks but there are many folks in that situation I found myself in and not enough resources to go around.

Contrary to popular belief, the land of milk and honey just doesn't have enough honey let alone milk so there are long, almost to infinity waiting lists.

I bought some food for people, I was lucky I could do that; give a shirt out of my backpack so a person would have something to wear; even helped a man find work and get back to higher ground before the flood of despair drowned him.

I guess things happen for a reason; today I found myself at a higher level, but I will always remember, we are all just one step away from falling from our place, to land under a tree.

Enjoy!

A NOTE FROM AUGUST 2ND, 2017 as written in the original "Black Book"

Dear reader, my loyal friend, it is August 2nd, a lovely Wednesday.

I was going to make this a diary of sort; daily musings of my life's little adventure but I slacked a bit.

Someday, I'll settle into my chair and type from memory the thoughts.

The first three chapters of this thing called the Homeless Life are jotted down as they happened, life in camp, the darkness my friend, my pen that sword to keep me sane.

I may end up and fill in the pieces later; such as meeting Jesus who was on a quest to find and retrieve his stolen guitar.

It was stolen in Utah from his broken down van.

It made its way to a pawn shop in Billings, Montana

Jesus sold water to dumb tourists to get the money to buy a bus ticket to the bus terminal in Butte, Montana where I got to meet him and to become a character in my book, a figure in my memories!

~CHAPTER ONE~

Dear reader,

You may be asking yourself,

"How do I become homeless? It sounds fun, like camping, except no mountain streams and the beer is warm!"

And boy would you be correct!!!

I am currently homeless.

I have a job but find myself without a roof.

Who needs a roof?

Or a bed?

Or a toilet or shower?

The world; oh dear lovely world, is your toilet.

Or, if you shy, there are always public restrooms.

Public restrooms are a god send to the homeless.

You need to take a poop.

They can also double as a makeshift wash station.

The dollar store is also a homeless person's best friend.

Every thing is one dollar.

You can easily pan handle a few bucks.

Tell people your car broke down and you need a new kidney or your children will die over in Iraq.

No, you don't need to have kids.

Adopt some.

Welcome to the world of being homeless.

I went to the dollar store and bought a cheap tarp for ground cover.

I learned quickly that the ground is cold and hard.

Icky bugs crawl on the ground.

At some point in your first days outside, you'll hit a point where you'll collapse, right there on the ground.

(Added note by the author - my collapse point was three days.  72 hours of no sleep, going to work for 8 hours a day as a cashier, made me into a delusional poet.)

You'll wake up with a worm crawling out of your nose.

Then, my friends, you'll care.

Nothing says "I'm f*cking homeless!!" than laying there at 2:30 in the morning fearing the boogeyman is out to get you.

Don't worry, there's nothing to worry about except being raped, murdered and/or being eaten.

Piece o cake! 

FOR MOTHER LAND: "We deeply regret to inform you." - A POEM

FOR MOTHER LAND: "We deeply regret to inform you..." - A POEM

A little girl is walking down the street,
A bitter memory,
Tomorrow shall be better,
Just wait and see,
But sadly,
Tomorrow,
It is said,
Never comes.

Into madness,
We saw ourselves go,
Propelled there by our might,
Our own will,
Our eyes held closed,
Against the blinding of the light,
Bombs bursting in air,
This was not heroics,
A good boys' gift to their motherland,
We were surviving,
Kill,
Or be kill,
No master plan to conquer the world,
But that which to survive another day,
To see our mothers,
Our fathers,
Our lovely wives,
Our children,
Who wish to grow up and become soldiers,
To fight for that great cause,
That cause,
How I wish I had not heard the bugle call.

If we were greater men,
To those at home,
Called lesser men,
We would have left,
Gone back to that safety,
We left behind,
To that simple life,
To our families,
Our homes,
To our lives,
So simple,
So easy,
Raise our children,
To see them have their own children

But alas,
We did not,

We went screaming,
FOR MOTHER LAND!!!
To our last breath,
Some of us,
Never opening their eyes again,
Not to see the rising of the sun,
To that new day,
To sip black coffee,
To feel the bite of a cold, clear day,
The warmth of that which we call love,
To keep us from the shivering winds.

There we stood,
Shivering in cold,
Our blood,
Rivers on the icy plains.
We heard the bombs,
Dive,
Cover,
Fire,
Kill,
Death to that enemy across the way,
His own mind screaming,
Run,
Far away,
To that which does not kill us,
To be alive,
Cowards,
Fake,
Not worth that patch sewed upon our shoulders,
Elite,
Defenders,
Those others,
We spit,
We fire,
We kill,
They return,
To kill,
To defend,
And we keep,
Still,
Pressed against the ground,
Our eyes mere slit,
Our hands,
Our fingers,
The deliverer of that sweet tool of death.

We marched forward,
Through the hurling of the rain,
The sleet,
Our hands,
Our bodies,
Dearly,
We did not speak,
We marched forward,
Our thoughts our own,
But we all thought the same,
How easily it would be,
To never have heard that call to arms.

We dare not say that mere thought,
To be a traitor,
To that great cause,
To not hear the trumpet blare,
To feel the pounding of the drums,
To know the brimming pride,
Of our elders as we passed by,
In parade,
"Off to war! To fight a glorious fight!"
They cheered,
They rallied,
We did not want to disappoint,
Even when we came back,
In a box,
Our flag,
Covering our vessels,
Their pride covered in tears.

"They died for us!"
The headlines would read,
"For us!"
"For the Mother Land!"
Mother tears,
Screams,
Pounding of their fist,
The news fresh in their ears,
A letter,
"We deeply regret to inform you..."

The war machine keeps rushing,
Never ending,
A new generation,
A new generation,
We deeply regret to inform you...

INFORMED INSANITY - A POEM TO READ IN A CLOSET WHILE THE DEVIL STEALS YOUR BUILDING BLOCKS

INFORMED INSANITY - A POEM TO READ IN A CLOSET WHILE THE DEVIL STEALS YOUR BUILDING BLOCKS

Worm wood,
 Drifting distant minds,
Left to the corner, sleeping in a pile of leaves,
Whispering loves across the lines,
In rapture,
In sleaze,
Ease?
O to see,
That sea,
Across the line,
In a time,
Ripples in the cosmic lake.

Tome,
A word involved in a battle,
Witless mimes?
We could not see without our eyes,
To not hear the boisterous voices,
In a shaded room,
A nurse comes in,
Can she take my pulse?
Can she?
She can!

Oh madness,
That sadness in my mind,
To dream of insane,
To day, to week, to whatever the hell it is.

I wish to scream,
But no mouth do I have,
I wish to see,
But no eyes do I have

In time,
The distance decreases,
To a better,
More horrid place,
Random drawings,
On the desk,
Drawn in red,
Blood,
Shit,
Drool,
Whatever it is.

I was cursed,
Before I was birth,

Followers inside my brain,
Digging out the memories,
Too horrible to remember,
To know what is not known,
To see what should not be seen,
To say goodnight one last time,
In Heaven's name,
Cursing the stars,
The darkness,
To sleep,
To not wake,
Trying to wake up from this nightmare,
Is this a dream?
Or is this reality?

Never sure,
Where am I,
In reference to time and space.

Lights,
Darkness,
Break apart,
This is not living,
This is just existing,
Onward,
Downward,
Someone just threw me a shovel and said dig.

The voices in my head,
To scream,
To feel that pain,
To be released,
From this misery.

Darkness does cover my eyes,
To unsee,
To fall asleep,
Fresh misery,
A bullet,
Screaming through my brain,
To end this nightmare,
This life,
Not worth a nickel,
Not worth the price of a pin.

Broadway and Filth: A Poem

Broadway and Filth - A Poem in the middle of the night

Eyes wide shut,
Against the breaking haze
Of another brutal day.

We did not feel,
The pain,
Broken glass against our skin.

Broadway and Filth,
There was a time,
I could see the forest through the trees,
See the tears falling in the rain,
Today I feel,
Not a thing,
Not even from the slice,
From that blade,
Across my wrist,
Another day,
Wishful thinking of not waking up,
Again,
To arise to another day.
To live,
To breathe,
To see,
To feel,
Live,
Love,
Die,
The sighs,
In broken winds,
To see the breaking of the day,
Stuck here,
Inside my brain,
Thinking about this,
That,
When?
Where?
To see,
The end,
A beautiful thing,
In reality,
To kiss the burning flesh,
To preach that which you hate,
Feel,
Cut the skin,
To see if you still feel,
A midday nightmare,
Flashing on the TV screen,
That which is the mind.

The mind creeps away,
Wishing to see the world,
Insanity?
Bliss in the margins?
Do not open,
Do not shake,
Do not waste your breath on moralizing tales!

Reach out,
Scream into the night,
Rage,
Forget,
See not that which does not matter,
Live!

To return to the beginning of the end,
To sing in harmony,
To laugh,
To love,
To live,
To die,
To be that which gives all,
To be...

THE DEAD DO NOT DO - A POEM

An empty soul,
Standing on the corner,
Broadway and Fifth,
Somewhere,
Who cares where.

We are traveling down,
That thing called life,
Misery loves company,
Romance, love,
A mythical beast,
What and where it is,
No one knows.

Jim died last night,
Grasping at straws,
Holding on to shattered dreams,
Wondering where he went wrong.
Jesus laughed,
Fruit less in the trees,
Little past midnight,
A rainy eve indeed.

We all wept,
For it is the proper thing to do,
When hearing of a death,
But we weep for ourselves,
For they are without loss,
The living are with the pain,
To weep,
To cry,
For which the dead do not do.

A SUICIDE NOTE TO THE WORLD - A poem

 A SUICIDE NOTE TO THE WORLD - A POEM

Standing in the middle of a suicide, 

How do you feel when your heart is broken?
The world keeps spinning,
Imagery,
Against the wind,
Sorrow in the after thought,
Lies, all is love,
I feel the blade against my skin,
A bitter bite,
A slice,
Stitches through time, skin,
Another life,
Who knows where it goes,
This time,
A broken life,
Standing there,
Awake,
Asleep,
Dead,
Alive,
The words drift across the screen,
Hope?
Shit...

There in the darkness I can see the pain,
It would be easy,
To take my life,
But instead I close my eyes and lay there weeping,
Staring into the ceiling,
It is an illusion,
This thing called life,
Is there anyone else,
Out there,
Feeling the same thing,
Thinking the same thing?

The faces, there in the dim light,
Nightmares?
I am shaken awake,
By my own life.
Distant,
Ripped memories,
Coming through the haze.

Awake,

Awoke,
Fly on the wall,
Seventeen pills,
Bottle of Jack,
What a way to go,
No one seems to care,
Easily replaced,
No one will remember my name,
A silent grave.

No one gets out of here alive,
The long goodbye,
There seems to be a line,
Not to cross,
Not to flee,

To feel the last kiss,
Upon my wrists,
Another,
To make sure I still bleed,
The bottle is half way empty,
Half way full?
Who cares,
Who knows,
The darkness does not.

Where is my mind?
Somewhere out there,
On the street?
Drifting through to the atmosphere,
Into blitz?
Where is my life?
Why am I dying one second at a time?
Why was I born?
Just to be put into the ground?
Lies, life, genocide,
Who knows,
I don't,
Goodbye...

LIFE IN A SONG - Lyrics in the middle of the night

LIFE IN A SONG 

Lyrics in the middle of the night

Driving through the rain,
Bullet through the brain,
Living is the same,
And life goes on,
The middle of the night,
Dreaming of a better,
Life goes on,
And life goes on.

Times get better,
So they say,
Sometimes life,
It just gets bitter,
Dreaming of a better way,
Singing in the way,
Living for the love,
Living for the life,
Life goes on,
And life goes on,
Sometimes soon.

Bullet through the brain,
Driving through the rain,
Looking for a better way,
Life goes on,
Sometimes living,
Just a little,
Is the best way,
And the right way,
And life goes on,
And life goes on,
Realize it,
Sometimes it's hard,
To feel the road,
To go on,
To the better place,
And life,
Goes on,
On and on,
To the place,
Life goes on,
And life goes on.