LA, into this state

raggaeton and Coronavirus-19 blues

seriously woke adverts from podcast sleuths

the AG and the Russia hoax

        MSNBC squealin’

          through the crumbling ozone

exclusive: thee gospel truth

     time doesn’t really matter?

     eight hundred and seventy-six days gulped Manafort

Prius glide bike lanes wide

             out-brake light-mine i’m from LA

                        bus lights

    frozen on Mulholland Drive

Ferrari high beams with movie directors’ wives

         Tupac karaoking in the car

              dope beats Dre interjectin’ more more more

memories of seven fo

                and the deep state goody two shoes ruse begins

                              110 N   110 South   360 degrees

the president in forced space

                behind JFK’s refurbished desk

         listening to no one but Fox and Friends

vice president boxing the Fauci and Birx bunch

“Let us love as Jesus has {LOVED?}us.”

                   the archbishop says

yo yo yo!?! does that mean we’re all dead…

                   gentrification gentrification

               where’s that old voucher to my section-8

extension the PJ’s are not communes like Marx’s mandate

         meth toad croaks in the trailer park door instead

                       sweaty poisons seeping into

     the young collective American soul

        finest tit slash bleach job i ever did see

skyscraper floor path paved with our correctly approved recepticled trash

        while our slogan puffed chests

at the pride we have at the graves we have filled

      behind dumpsters of the riche through their guerilla     


            as we parade around the good done deeds

the mayor walks those very grounds were 30 years ago

     the epidemic shunned back then

                          but walked for now

               took most of my loves forever due to their failure to conform

                                    now today in my home town America-LA country broken down to her                 


yes Cabal we are openly and freely international with an

    admiration for cowboys rudeboys and all the girls in the     


 coexisting vegan meat eater howlers in the night

           blues and reds never got us right

media giants you’re wrong as fuck about us

                we the people of the Westside coast

              Chuck wearers Mariachi trumpets duo with Miles                     

                         kung fu swinging farmers markets our neighborhoods by far were never anything ‘Little’

                 Hogs ride wild all the Angels of this Nation

want to say:

               America have a very happy birthday

to the sweatshop workers who get paid a dime

               and to the Chili Peppers the music makers of this  bad ass LA house

         let us not forget the discarded freedom fighters who stand in the soup lines

      all the kids made from God’s rainbow flag of color

               and the school babies hanging out at Food 4 Less selling candy bars for a dollar

                 to Kim Soo at my favorite barbecue

    and of course Hadib where i used to buy my tokes

            and Dona Adelita at the corner with her folks

      LaTifah and Darryl who teach me about the Sheppard JC

            AJ from the Lakota Nation a Captain America

                  comic book fiend

  and all of my liberal left hook right wing swing coffee house


          let the lights tonight be strong and free

     reflecting from Dodger stadium to the ferociously tame

               surface of the Silver lake man made designer reservoir

love letter to Allen



it’s me the

kid who read you

too early in her life and yelped before

the howl can’t you see i really love you

i’m a boy in

a body

of a



i had

a mother

too she was gone

but until now i can’t write her poems

easing her death for me lost in the fog

can i be a

blue sailor

with you




this world to

hear the voices

louder in our heads and words seeping through

the Hebrew ghosts of our mothers’ tears for

a life torn to

tiny bits

too small



up and

put back on

the shelf of show

Allen did we get old in babyhood

is that why passion runs lukewarm tempests

i’m fading in

my only




painted god

children played with

the sun and all her golden sisters too

before the bearded strangers came with the

ships and fools to

drown in pools

of their




tonight i

want to drink to

you the man i love and sip from your mind

the dirty thoughts the ones with guys and all

that comes with them

if i can

only be




hair of yours

and see what you

have seen and hear the howling of the fears

that haunt all men to their torment in life

so poorly lived

and here i

am for


can i be your spirit animal, Mr. Ginsberg?

LA girls can channel A. Ginsberg too

their bodies as tired as my mind are a
conglomerate of recycler rim shop churches and everything is gated and stifled as the spirit of the child i’m looking for chain link fences rent free beautification of Western Avenue top $ cash paid open we buy metal Medicare Part D appears almost as much as “Jesus Saves” i’m in on all of these treasures that no one takes the time to look at i still cannot find my girl i always stop at 13 seconds i ask

Iglesia cristiana el remanente fiel testimonial Cathedral and Christian school Church of God in Christ iglesia pentecostés primer amor next to the color TV by RCA motel that is open 24 hours Sermon on the Mount Bronco motel on the corner of Western and 55th United African church marked up by the 55 kids crew and all the horny husbands whose wives are left alone demand a price menu for my most exquisite lips

night flows cold nerves exploded at the tips Chinese laundry out to dry the sky the stars turn off one by one and birds are sinking under mud blue gods of the century turn west and all along the mountain lightning stops to cry the purple mud dies
on the day of war
maroon worms climb up
no legions loom
and the resurrection
is postponed
because of my ignorance