Cashed it in

For nothing

No hopes

No dreams 

You started pretty good

But the horse pulled up lame 

You in your silks busted on the turf

Blood in your eyes

Head cracked open

You pulled yourself up

Legs like rubber

"I'm good"

 Oh Thank Heaven

For 7-11

NAOMI

FILES

1992

 

Google drive

  

   lost intransigent 

OCD spectrum monkey

It ain't defamation if it's true

  sorry 

      But it's not our job

   You can do battle w the world

and never get it

EXACTLY

 Kerouac

  Lost Dreams 

    - lost poems

Lost days 

  In a narrow

    Wavering

toward nothingness 

No Nirvaha 

Menhir 

  Prayer to the dirty chair

The dirty rocking chair 

Yer ma

Hah

 Stupid 

  waves 

of stupidity

     they never end 

          One after one

  some are big

But they're always there

Always coming

  All you can do

is walk the fuck away

 

 I justified my cynicism 

Easily done

"If you're not cynical you're not paying attention"

Some valid points there 

All things considered

 You paid the price

you avoided it all

It was just too much

you saw where it was headed 

and your negativity won again

you lived your fucking life

Who cares?

 Calistoga Speedway

Closed and out of business

trying to sell it off to housing developers 

So we were trespassing-

Everything is still there-

Like a giant red fifties gasoline truck

You thought it was a fire truck 

You climbed in

It wasn't locked 

a few small spider webs

Rolled down the window

"Look at me I'm a badass"

 You are

a dirty dish 

in the drying rack

greasy slippery slimey

in a place for supposedly clean plates

you washed it but

You didn't clean it

That would require a slight

effort on your part

and a slight respect for anyone wanting to use it

and expecting from its location 

to be clean

You are a dirty dish,

that, and an asshole.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Rising like a phoenix

I carried my staff

Through the desert

-Cactus- like snakes 

Slithered everywhere 

devouring newspapers

and old hamburgers

I rose like Tucson

And took the Hwy 37 out

past the old pickle cemetery

Lots of good pickles

Gone

What can you do?

 I cast an elliptical prophecy

It was cheerful but portended a lot of heartache

It didn't matter

The druids of Seventeenth st

Didn't seem to notice

Life went on 

As if nothing had occurred 

 I think I need to get laid

Jerking it just isn't cutting it anymore.

I need to feel a body next to mine 

The touch of skin is blessed

Blessed by Our Lord

Sanctified in dark hallways

and sturgid wallflowers 

 

 Gray gray gray

Another day

another gray day

Gray eyes

Gray skin

Gray dogs

Gray shabby houses

Gray kids in Gray schools

Laughing and playing

One little kid is crying

Gray tears

Police give gray tickets and

eat Gray donuts and drink Gray cold coffee

"Hello Officer"

He gives you a Grayish stare

 Doing the Lords work

Mowing down geese on Branciforte Ave on a Thursday morning. 

Fuck em.

They shit everywhere and the mean fuckers bit me last week. 

 

 Leave 

Your mind behind

Baby James

Oh fuck

Say it on the side of

The road

Bear dies

Badger thrives

Elk

Beaver

Moose-capade 

Raptor 

Mind blown

On a windy sideways

Bukowski sleeps it off 

In San Pedro

And we wander away

Through the frozen

Bushes

Igloos

Tehachapi

Tourniquets 

Of neon sighs

And baked 

Tomorrows

 

 

 

 Another SF day

Rain and sun

and huge clouds

Walked to Target 

to look for Giants hats and shirt

But nothing 

All crap 

went and had a burger fries and a coke

Back to the bed to play hearts

and hit the vape

La dee da

 

 All My Poems Are Bad

Sipping a Cherry sno cone

Parallel lives in slow motion

You are the best

But clean the shower once in a while