The creek water was milky after a full mornings rain. The song birds singing their tunes in the rising humidity of the afternoon sun. Shelly yawns and stretches her arms up high and looks at me. I can feel her. I’d kiss her again, but I’m afraid. How long before she gets bored and moves on, I wonder? Plenty of …
Waiting for the subway,
Setting the new paradigm
For head bobbing,
Coltrane with his gallant sax
The whole world is a matchbox,
Waiting to go up,
Chin up son,
As my father would say
Listening to Coltrane
Hip hop heads watching
Love be supreme
Supreme love being,
Reach out and touch your neighbor
For the sake of all humanity,
Keep the heads of the world bobbing,
When kick drum kicks in
And the roll of the bass drum
Shakes you down to your bones,
Thank life for Coltrane
And subways and graffiti artists
And homeless veterans of the eternal night,
And the death of Mars,
Now stepping into subway car
With head phones on,
As side A fades into side B
Keep the love oozing
From pelvic gardens bloom
And hoist the greatest facets of this life
Onto your shoulders
And carry the beat on and on and on…
Head bobbing, the ultimate sign
Of digging someone else’s scared vibes.
Share those scared vibes; a cosmic connection comes. Thank life! – mh clay
The first time I’d dropped acid, I was nineteen and living in Seattle. A guy I worked with at a coffee shop in the basement of the Elliot Bay bookstore said he had a connection. After work we drove out of the city, into the hills, where his guy lived. The exchange was quick but eventful. The old hippie lived …
She almost didn’t know who I was,
‘Tony!’ she exclaimed!
She couldn’t believe it was me.
“Your hair!” she mourned ruefully
“Yes, I know, it’s going!”
We’re so old now, she says,
I follow her and her friends to a bar,
Off Lower Greenville,
We stay outside and smoke and catch up,
She can’t take her eyes off my head.
“Does it look that bad?” I ask.
“No!” she’s embarrassed, “I just…
Your hair was so perfect”
We talk about life,
She’s done with school,
Berates me for never going back,
She almost had a kid,
It was a miscarriage,
She feels it was for the best, but
It does hurt some days,
We talk of our times together,
The day we got into a fight because I
Didn’t know how to change a tire.
Alongside an empty back road
On our way home from San Antonio,
Which led to us fucking in the back seat
When a highway patrol car pulled up,
I got a ticket,
You said it was because the old man was jealous.
Me, mad that I was charged for lewd behavior and
You initiated it.
You had the better job and could pay your ticket.
I eventually had to go sit mine out.
Her friends come back out,
To check on us,
I don’t think they like the fact she talking to a man,
But what do they know, they have no inkling
Of our past together, unless she told them,
When I wasn’t looking,
It all happened so fast, us running into each other,
Last I heard she was moving to Seattle
To work at a radio station.
We talked for so long, her friends had to leave
And I offer to take her home.
She agrees after some protest,
She’s staying back at her mom’s,
Her mom loved me,
We’re not in the car for long,
Before were up to our old tricks again,
Spontaneous love making is the best kind of love making,
It keeps you on your toes,
It lets you know you’re alive and still
Can rise to the occasion.
At a moment’s notice.
You still got it, I tell myself,
She rubs her fingers through my thinning hair
And whispers, “You were my Alexander”
We would stand naked in her bathroom
And admire one another in the mirror,
And she’d whisper those same words in my ear
Without the were, but you are,
“You are my Alexander,”
And I’d say back,
“You are my Cleopatra,”
I kiss her neck after she’s finished
And that’s when I see it
The lights in the back windshield and
A police officer approaching the car,
Flashlight in hand.
And we laugh.
Alexander and Cleopatra; an epic tale with the full complicity of law enforcement (after the fines were paid). – mh
It was about that time that I first started to notice girls. I was twelve and the girls I had known since elementary were growing what my father called “A woman’s curves.” I would spend the summers with my uncle and grandfather in the country, while my parents went on missions with their church. The house was close to a …
xxxencapturing the madness,
xxxxxxWith contours and shades
xxxxxxxxxxxxEmphasizing like adjectives,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxA world on fire
xxxxxxxxxxxxTo the deranged children
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxRaised on the cinema
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxOf John Waters and Tim Burton.
With the prophecy of talent,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxLike the universe is massive,
xxxHer mind expands at the light speed
xxxxxxxxxShe boils my mind like eggs
Oh Maiden of the Heavenly Olson,
xxxxxxProphet with an Artist’s pen
xxxFreeing souls with the imagery of
xxxxxxxxxWhat lies beneath the countenance
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxOf our culture,
Liberate me with the
xxxxxxSoftness of your fairy wings,
xxxAnd let these words ring true,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxEyes wide and beautiful.
xxxxxxSavior of the poet’s existence,
xxxxxxxxxxxxKeeper of your Nickelodeon/Steadman legacy,
xxxxxxxxxxAnd given half a chance,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI’d be your Hunter
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxWith whom you could chase the centuries.
His brain, scrambled thought souflee; his undaunted love, muse-smitten devotee. – mh
Clothes selling past market value,
Outward thinking posing as alternative thinking,
Posing as an artist without the art.
Saying you think for yourself, but
xxxxxxxxxxxxYou’ve bought into a fad that’s against all fads,
xxxxxxKurt Cobain never tried to be Kurt Cobain,
xxxxxxKeith Richards doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxAnd that’s the way
Downfall, indeed; defies the ideal of the self-made man. – mh
I see a light peeking
From behind the horizon
Its, but a glimmer,
Only a camp fire
Off in the distance
But it dares me to dream
And so I do
I dream of hope.
For peace on earth
For freedom of love
And no more talk of abomination
The nights still dark
And the light shimmers
Somewhere between here
A guide amongst the emptiness
I stumble, but
Only for a moment
The small light brings me hope
Therefor I choose to follow it
No matter the consequence…
Looking past the years of the future
xxxxxxxxxxxxTo see a time without measure,
xxxxxxTrusting only my eyes to guide me,
xxxxxxxxxxxxFilled with the memories of the milky beginning,
xxxxxxxxIn the mists of something incomprehensible,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxExcept by a trained mind,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxLike particle Physics,
Seeing the many faces of God,
xxxHiding within Einstein’s undiscovered equation
xxxxxxFor the theory of everything,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxThat just might not be right.
Believing in the reasoning
xxxxxxOf the universe,
Just trying to keep my feet
xxxxxxxxxxxxOn the ground, and live my life
xxxxxxBefore the last great supernova,
xxxxxxxxxxxxLights up the sky,
Before the cosmos go cold and silent.
Hear this poet, speaking from space? Perspective, folks! Perspective! – mh
Standing atop a soap box,
xxxOn the corner of Lemmon Ave,
Preaching Hemingway and Asimov.
Explaining the science of War,
xxxTo lost soldiers running a course
Of hypocrisy across their impressionable Children,
I’m standing up to violence,
xxxArmed with the weapons of Love.
Leaving enemies dumbfounded
xxxxxxxxxIn the glory of a faithful man’s god.
Hugging the poor for closure,
The wars in the streets
xxxxxxxxxAren’t caused by the white man,
But perpetuated by the fear of the false power
xxxxxxxxxBehind the white man,
But white men like black men
Just want a chance at a little foreign foreplay,
And I’d fuck both from my soap box,
xxxxxxxxxAll four because were all merely
xxxxxxxxxFloating particles held together
xxxxxxxxxxxxBy Mr. Higgs’ Boson,
xxxxxxxxxxxxSo remain calm,
xxxxxxxxxxxxLife will go on,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxPreaching from a soap box.
Preacher’s prerogative, wicked war and black/white tensions, all boiled down to atom angst. – mh
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