Bump Bang Bye – A Poem

February 27, 2012

Events cruising like Al Pacino through

Mutated sexual caravans filled with

Like-minded creatures of the day light

Bump Bump Bump

 

Her affordable anguish seems to cost

Her fiancé more than her

Mangle is such a felicitous word

Bang Bang Bang

 

Aortic anvils drop

Falls rapidly in the ruins

It’s delightful to my

Sad eyes

Bye Bye Bye

 

Exotic dumplings

Fancy affair

Dance

Sing

Cry

 

Bump

Bang

Bye

 


Vanity or Sanity?

February 17, 2012

“I’ll trade your vanity for my sanity.” I said to Marcus in 1995.

We never made the trade.

I’ve had another blah day today. I had to do a “Stress test” at my Cardiologist early this morning. My mom likes to take me there to make sure I am ok etc. I slept at my mom’s last night.

I was instructed not to drink caffeine for 12 hours before and no smoking after midnight last night. Yes, I have a heart condition and I started smoking again. Not even close to half as much as I used to. I don’t drink that much coffee. But that’s not the point. It was rough waking up and staying up then going for a stress test. I was stressed from not having coffee and smoking.

I was there for over 3hours and or was mostly waiting around and 2 photo sessions after putting fluid in me for the machine. The only “test” I took was a 10-15 minute treadmill until my hear rate was up to 150 beats a minute. The Doctor was fun to look at except for her wedding ring. Well, it was a nice wedding ring. You get the idea.

I left there so groggy for some reason. Mom took me food shopping. She took me. I paid. Ha. Then we did lunch and I finally bought a coffee. A “French Toast Latte” actually, with 4 shots of espresso. I drank up and had a smoke finally. Ahh. I drank the whole thing and my ass was still dragging.

I came home with mom. I sleep here some Friday nights so I can help my uncle Saturday mornings. I helped my mom with a few things and cleaned out my broken down car in her driveway. I donated it to Purple Heart and they are picking it up on Monday.

It’s a sad loss. I loved that car but it needs too much work and I can’t afford it right now. I did score a bunch of coins from it. SO I took a walk to the bank to cash them in. TD bank charges 6% on the coin machine if you don’t have an account with them. I’ve and accounts with them for years even when they were Commerce Bank and they never charged. Now I don’t have an account and they charged me over a dollar and I ended up with just under 17 dollars. Oh well, it was still found money.

I took a walk into town to get some smokes and splurge on a Starbucks coffee (half decaf at this point) since I had some extra money. Chatted with the friendly kid at CVS I see every week about cigarettes mostly. My old friend from when I worked at Starbucks was working and we chatted it up a bit. One of the girls I used to see there almost every night a couple years back looked up at me and smiled. I smiled back. I used to think she was cute. She still is. I just don’t always think about these things all of the time. Just at my Doctor today.

“Are you the same guy..?” She asked then paused.

“That used to be her every night? Yes.” I answered.

“You lost a lot of weight. You look great.” She said.

I thanked her and almost told he she looked good too but wasn’t sure if that’s what I’m supposed to say or not anymore. I talked to her while she made my drink.

“You used to drive that big red car right?” She asked.

“Yeah. I’m not driving it now.” I said.

“What are you driving?”

“Nothing.”

“Where do you live now?”

“Fairview.”

“Where’s that?”

“ It’s on the edge of Camden near Collingswood. Where do you live?”

“Bellmawr.”

“Cool. Nice seeing you again.”

“Great to see you. Stop in more.”

I took my drink in a great mood. I gained a little of my weight back in the past month and have been a little self-conscious. I hadn’t shaved in a week and my hair was un-kept today so “looking good” was the last thing on my mind. It felt good to hear it. When I first lost the weight after a month or so recovering from my heart surgery months ago I was so confident. I was able to wear clothes I couldn’t fit into for over 4 years. That faded away fast with other priorities making me forget.

It occurred to me that I didn’t even feel bad about not having a car or even a job because “I looked good” to quote my friend John, even when I was at my worst.

I guess it was a good day. Because other people’s opinion’s of my looks makes me feel better than my accomplishments.

In reality I’d rather have created something like a piece of art, poetry or a novel than look good but I was nice to hear it.

I’ll keep my sanity (the little I have) and you can keep your vanity.


Valentine’s Day Massacre in My Head

February 14, 2012

Valentine’s Day Depression

 

Depression slowly creeps into my life once again. My broken record plays the same tune we’ve all heard before.

 

“I don’t believe in celebrating Valentine’s Day.” I usually say or used to say when I was single or dating or married to a woman that would accept my statement of “it’s just a holiday dreamed up by corporations to sell things like most every other holiday.

 

My sleeping pattern has been going screwy on me. Actually my “napping” time has been going screwy on me lately. I just got myself into the habit of going to bed by 12-1 am at the latest and waking up between 5 am and 7 am. Despite my recent long naps I’ve been keeping my new habit for over 3 weeks now. Until today.

 

Is it a coincidence that it’s St. Valentine’s Day? Do I secretly associate this day with loneliness and depression? Or is all just by chance that my depression falls on society’s national romantic holiday. I woke up later than my new usual time around 9 am. I wasn’t feeling it. I wasn’t feeling the day. I thought some coffee would wake me up, pull me out of my funk. I stayed awake and prayed, meditated and wrote. I still wasn’t feeling it.

 

I said fuck it to myself and went to my bedroom with a cup of coffee and tried to finish watching a Velvet Underground documentary on YouTube and have some coffee. Something about my bed makes me unproductive and most times sleepy. I still wasn’t feeling the day and fell asleep before noon. My dreams were vivid and seemed to include all of my ex-girlfriends one dream at a time but there was no mention of Valentine’s Day. I woke up around 2 pm and had something to eat and more coffee. I went back to watching the documentary in my bedroom and was soon off to la la land.

I woke up around 6 pm with more dreams of more loves of the past and that’s when it occurred to me that there might me a correlation between my depressive state and Valentine’s Day. I subconsciously connect Valentines Day with love or lack of it whether I want to or not. Loneliness has followed me my whole life as the character Travis Bickle states in the movie Taxi Driver. That line seems to follow me through my life.

 

I’m a loner, believe it or not, and love to be alone as a result of being an only child. I can also be lonely and isolate myself at the same time. I find it difficult to see the difference sometimes. There have been times in my life where years of depression pass and I don’t even know it yet alone show it. The song “Tracks of my Tears” by Smokey Robinson comes to mind sometimes. I used to be the life of the party and then cry when I am alone. I have a great poker face in public. I even fool myself into having a great time then the depression hits me on the way home or at home.

 

I hear there are many suicides on Valentine’s Day. “A recent poll found that one in ten young adults admitted to feeling lonely, insecure, depressed, or unwanted on Valentine’s Day. And that’s just the ones that admitted it.” – Listfirst.com. I guess I’m one but then again the quote says young adults. I wonder if it’s better or worse for older adults. The good news is that I am not suicidal.

 

These are my thoughts and feelings of the day. I hope it didn’t ruin yours and you had and are having a fantastic celebration of Valentine’s Day today.

 

I’ll see how I feel tomorrow.

My favorite and my last Valentine’s Day present. She even wrote lyrics from my favorite Rolling Stones’ songs “Dead Flowers” on he tag attached. “Take me down little Suzy. Take me down, . . “


Suck My Fuck

February 6, 2012

Suck my fuck

I’m out of luck

The Sandman took

My very last buck

 

I want to live

I want to give

I want to love

I want to forgive

 

From God I’m forsaken

I feel he has taken

Unless I’m mistaken

I cannot awaken

 

I’m sick in the head

Stuck in this bed

Moving I dread

I feel so dead

 

All I want is love

Without a kid glove

Yet pure as a dove

I’ve been so void of

 

Cursed

Blessed

Thirst

The rest

 

Fuck a suck

Eat a duck

Mind is muck

No more Luck


Polaroid Snapshot Memory

January 30, 2012

Polaroid snapshot memory caresses me from the inside out. Transcending candles light my way to the past and the joy and freedom I was unaware of at the time. Bizarre incantations of what life is and could be. Pass by and die. Pass by and let the fate of the Deities decide or roll the dice or not.

 

Freedom’s just another word for everything ahead. Wasted youth having a great time. Love. Sex, drugs and rock n roll baby. I lived it and didn’t know I was living. Love was everywhere. Free love was dead but I re-animated it. Acid trips and connections to worlds I wish I could have stayed in. Money was nothing to me and I thought it was everything. Carry the plight of darkness on my shoulder with a wicked smile.

 

Aging. Losing. Gaining. Winning. At the same time in my mind. I created it and I had no control of the inevitable events that lead me to me and back around the block. A haircut and a shave and a shower cures the common ME. Cut snip CUT. Parties over and starts again. Imobile as I travel and dream of travel and you.

 

Bulbous characters running in and out of my entire life. I call it life today. Tomorrow? Fuck tomorrow. I’ve always hated tomorrow. Diseased decaying tomorrow. Yesterday is where it’s at. Live today like it was yesterday and I feel fine. Crimes committed without my knowledge and I weep for you. For me.

 

Granite accelerator in the fastest carpool lane of a Lynchian progression. Up down. Freeze.

 

Tag.

 

You’re fucking IT.


A POEM: Rose Colored Goggles (for Joe B)

January 12, 2012

 

Rose Colored Goggles (for Joe B)

 

Speaks slowly as if expectations are for you to savor every word

When he’s not too busy exercising his inherent talent for listening

To the ranting, venting and complaining of others.

 

The secret mystic patiently awaits his turn to react and advise Wisely his positive spin on whatever it is

I am self absorbedly going on on on and on and on about persistently like an ADD child demanding attention

 

Intuition and listening are his gifts yet unrecognized because of his

ASSociations with the mentally challenged or selfish, self absorbed people in his life.

He has answers but has learned through the years to wait to share them

We are not always ready for the answers

 

As you get to know and love him you realize he is human too

Moody, judgmental and self righteous like the rest of the world

Showing this side to only the closest of allies

We and or I accept this for all he has endoured with our friendship

Through years upon years

 

Relationship dynamics change as with all intelligent free thinkers and sometimes we grow apart and then grow back together stronger

A selfless man in actions sets the example I strive for.

Well grounded yet spiritual, mystical, creative and verbally expressive.

 

I call this man

I repeat man

As my best friend

And a major contributor to society and God’s world.


First 2012 Poem – Resolve

January 1, 2012

Resolve.

Resolution.

Resolutions.

I have many. I have none.

I repeat the same as last year if they did not come true.

My disbelief in New Year’s resolutions hinders

My conscious decisions so I remain the same just like the song in the Led Zeppelin song.

I resolve anyway.

I make a resolution here and there.

I make resolutions there and here.

I wait. I hurry.

There really is no difference to me.

As long as my decisions are consistent with my

With my

Heart and Soul

The outcome doesn’t matter.

The intent doesn’t matter.

Action is all that counts.

Resolve does not induce action.

Fire, long falls, crashes, deadly spirals

Can motivate change.

Can make resolve hurl me into action.

Virtue and morality doesn’t matter.

Character and dignity do not matter.

Charisma and beauty don’t matter.

Creation matters.

Creation equals action.

Keep myself alive by increasing creativity.

Creative resolve may be the answer to save my soul and yours.


%d bloggers like this: