Monthly Archives: May 2002

‘Coffee Houses’

Written some time in 2002; discovered in a journal-book, Jan. 2004.

‘Coffee Houses’

Spent all last night
  at a coffee house.
Laughed and talked and
  read Byron for hours.
The people seemed alive
  and vibrant;
    the place was filled with
      such radiant energy-
  it was intoxicating.

At pubs,
  the negative energies seem
    to predominate.
People convene there to
  forget their lives;
    to drown their misery in drugs.

Coffee houses are so
  very different.
People there gather to fraternise;
  share a story,
    a song,
      a poem,
    or just to discuss the politics
      of the day,
    or the news,
      or what-have-you.

Seldom does the negativity so
  prevalent in pub life
    intrude upon our
      delightful communion.

‘Fully-Modern Restroom’

A *cough* ‘poem’ about, ummm, a restroom. Somewhere. I found this in my journal, of course, and this has to be one of the strangest things to ever inspire my pen. I just don’t know what to make of it!

‘Fully-Modern Restroom’

"Power-assisted doors" open onto fully-modern restroom
    with sparkling white facilities and
    gorgeous marble appointments.
Automatic-flush toilets run water consistent
    in dance of decandent waste.
Graceful up-turned handles on water taps
    control a flow of Evian or somesuch.
A strange gentleman is examining the plumbing beneath the sink.
Most curious.

‘Garbage Man’

Written some time in 2002; discovered in a journal-book, Jan. 2004.

‘Garbage Man’

To-day I met a man.

He was carrying garbage-
it smelt horridly.

I asked him,
What was it all for,
the garbage.

He said he did not know,
but if he did not carry it,
his children could not have
any more bacon.

I did not understand,
but I asked him no more
questions.

Bacon smells terrible.

‘Honey, I’m Home’

I found this nonsense in a text file on an old computer. I don’t know where I was going with it, but here it is anyhow. *shrug* Whatever.

‘Honey, I’m Home’

Getting late in the milky night
the dripping diseased man reached for his keys
it was dark dark dark on the street
and the keys were cold cold cold
and slimey
strange black vitrious humours seeped from
open sores
on the man’s arms and face
“cough”
“cough”
the door opened, and stumbling inside,
the light clicked on
“Honey, I’m home.”

‘Golden God Rants’

This pile of monkey excrement was just (Dec. 2003) discovered in a text file on one of my computers. I laughed once or twice, so it may have some value to me in the distant future, and I figured, why not post it? This is the sort of deranged nonsense no-one ought to share with friends much less ‘publish’. Why I choose to to-night, I have no idea… I must be in a queer sort of mood.

‘Golden God Rants’

I am a great golden god!
I am the chocolate in your bowl of tomato soup!
Fear me, for I have mastery over all minerals,
    and command of the squirrels and chipmunks!

A single spar design is more efficient, and weighs less.

The clock is about to strike 13, and I will become a pink bunny.

Jewels have no place aboard a sinking raft,
    and I am a lonely, lonely man, grasping at the air.

Did you know a single raindrop can hold the entire universe?
Take the Green Path, and know meaning.

Screaming
  skull
    mate
      orange
        touching
          pine
            nostril.

What does a nova taste like?
Can you bottle joy?
Where is my spirit-animal?   I wish to touch it.
The rat runs through the room, ethereal, incorporeal.

Jesus once told me, "Son, you’ve got to have life insurance."
So I said, so I said, "Jesus, you’re dead, you know that?"
And he said, "."
And that’s the truth.

I can speak Hebrew, in my dreams.

Where the oliphants go, no one knows.
What’s that buzzing?     In my ear?     Is it an aeroplane?

I hate Texas.
E-mail is a sure-fire cure for boredom.

It’s March in Sri Lanka, and the Tamils are fighting again.

Automobile, automobile, sing to me of death and taxes!
"Ding, dong, the witch is dead, the witch is dead."
There’s a lot of death in this room?

The iced cream Mexican plays his song,
    over and over,
      the same refrain.
Doen’t he get tired of it?
    Does he even know who’s movie this is?

Buddha the cat asks for a treat,
  and this missive is cut short.

‘Sports Bar’

Random observations from dinner in a sports bar on the 3rd St. Promenade, Santa Monica. The real question here is, what was _I_ doing in a sports bar?! *grin* Having dinner! Ravioli, as I recall. Not good, but not bad. This one is not dated from when it was first scribbled in note-form in my journal, as I cannot recall when it was, and this particular book covers three years, with things all out-of-order. I am dating it, therefore, from when I formatted it for the Web. Cheers!

‘Sports Bar’

narrow wood-paneled sports bar on 3rd st.
soft light from wall fixtures
  balcony above the far side
green vinyl booths and short wooden bar stools
conical green shades ’round dim golden bulbs evokes a billiard-hall ambiance
framed Dali behind the bar
  blinking neon ‘cocktails’ sign
    dart boards and bottles
pasta chefs in tall white hats work magic behind a plastic barrier
boistrous group at an adjacent table
  clinking beer glasses
    bellowing voices of intoxicated men
      chatty gibbering of inebriated women

‘What Is A Life?’

Written some time in 2002; discovered in a journal-book, Jan. 2004.

‘What Is A Life?’

What is a life?

    a snowflake on a mountaintop?
    a teardrop in a god’s eye?
    an impossible dream of happiness?
    a spider on the wall?
    a whistling wind in the trees?
    an old shoe in a lake?
    a golden flower in a field?
    a sudden realisation?
    a glorious evening sky?

‘Robin’s Valentine’

This is the cheesy poem I wrote for Robin, my best friend of the last ten years, on a card whilst driving home from the candy shoppe; it just came to me, and I scribbled it down at stop lights with the card held on the steering wheel! I know it’s kinda trite and saccharine, but it’s still heartfelt and true. I don’t exactly know why I’m publishing it on-line, but…. *shrug*

‘Robin’s Valentine’

Once again it’s Valentine’s,
  And I’m hoping you’ll be mine.

Flowers, chocolates, small white bear,
  Just to show how much I care.

Robin, you’re the one I love,
  And all day long I’m thinking of.

And I hope we’ll never part,
  Because you’ll always have my heart.