ever since i was a kid i’ve always had a very vivid imagination mostly because i needed to get away i was too little to drive too little to get a job to make money to take the bus so the only place i had was deep inside my mind so time went by my body stretched my brain gathered more wrinkles and my eyes widened and then the shit hit the fan there were some days where the fan just fell off the ceiling there was so much turd on the blades then there were days when the fan was happily located on the ceiling in the hole with the wires that it was supposed to have swirling around and around doing its job with the moths going in and out of the little lamps shaped like butter cups there was no shit then maybe just a minor fart maybe it was me eating sauerkraut straight from the jar ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards and after a while teachers took notice they got all nosey sent me to see the psychologist called my mother called my father ring ring ring no one bothered so they thought i was special they had no idea how special i could be but i was a relatively well-adjusted child growing up in Hollywood and all you’d be surprised just how fucking well-adjusted i was ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards anyway so as a story goes and i forget where it goes cuz there’s just forks all over the place let me see let’s go to the fork with all the drugs and alcohol oh yeah all of them early on hard living on the edge before and after the edges give or take a few centimeters ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards anyway so long story short made long cuz mainly my fan is starting to show up again on this ceiling i’m in love with a man who lives with a clown and a possum but that’s an entirely different story love is a strange thing i remember when i was a teenager love was a Clash song or like Talking Heads or something like that and punk rock was like really romantic and like you know the Rolling Stones you know your band ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards was pretty cool too even though you guys were old even then but that’s not the problem anyway as i was saying my man lives with a clown and a possum no lie i’m not making this up i’m not even on any kind of drugs legal or illegal i’ve been dry for a really long timethis is just my brain my brain on reality what do i do you ask Mr. Keith Richards well i think a lot i like to fancy myself like a famous writer like a real deep thinker like William Burroughs sorry i don’t mean to name drop but Burroughs kicks ass anyway so yeah like i was saying yeah i say a lot cuz i’m like trying to knit my thoughts to have a cohesive conversation ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards anyway i’m not really sure why i’m here in my dream talking to you like you’re supposed to be my shrink right but you’re here i guess because the guy i’m in love with loves your band The Rolling Stones ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards anyway i’ve lived many many many years in downtown Los Angeles and it’s gone through a lot of intersectionality you know but i don’t know man like the ghosts are still there you know the systematically and psychologically disenfranchised the homeless skid row has just like fucking spread out to infinity and our politicians don’t seem to think that it’s a bad problem you know they don’t have to live on top of each other they don’t have to live on donated tents they possibly have not fought in foreign wars and came back to America just to get fucked over you know they’re not culturally marginalized i used all of the ism’s you can find ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards i don’t know how to explain the world anymore i just kind of walk around and around and around and then sometimes i look up at the sky and there’s this huge ass ceiling fan and the blades look like a chopper and they’re like spinning and spinning and spinning and we’re all down here pushing shopping carts and i’m giving them my empties because that’s all i got yes ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards yeah sometimes i feel pretty bad cuz like i have a place to sleep at at night i have people i can call when ifeel like i want to cry and i’m in love with a man who lives with a clown and a possum ya got that Mr. Keith Richards anyway before i rudely interrupted myself i wanted to tell you that living in LA is really starting to bother me she’s drowning my beautiful angel womb where i was born and grew up is drowning in shit i can’t stand it anymore ya dig me Mr. Keith Richards anyway what was i talking about oh yeah i’m in love with a man who lives with a clown and a possum and it’s really hard cuz it’s just the clown and a possum and there’s not much you can do with that all i know is that i’m in love with that man and he likes your band Mr. Keith Richards for your sake i hope that this dream ends really fast cuz i’m starting to bore myself you know i really don’t smoke or drink or use drugs anymore that’s all in the past i think that’s why i got so lucky to fall in love with a man who happens to live with a clown and a possum anyway Mr. Richards i won’t bend your ear anymore i think that my 45 minute session is up i really thank you for letting me wear this really cool bitching ass hat but you see i got places to go i got things to see i got ceiling fans to dust i gotta fart and i’m grateful to you Mr. Keith Richards you crazy old son of a bitch love your music man and i love a man who lives with a clown and a possum
wish that i could’ve
taken the bullets for you
building’s not enough
with few steps
happy with the
choices i have made they belong to me
unpopular turns delinquent alike
options were mine
is steady all
ready to go come the wave of infernal
positioned to strike with white hot venom
for mercy and
and then the YHWH said I told
you so the vampires suck my mind clean but there is nothing that
the blue cannot repair when i get
the itch beyond repair the bones of rapture sidewalk dirty o hosanna mercy
my unto you split tongued brother me
thinks that behind all the churches Eve was framed pass the roller holy
shit i now see the world is
beautiful float float float among the brick the sign the pain the red
rider gives me a lift brother what
you say John it is i who is ugly pardon me sir i
am your mirror antiseptic dirty test don’t
beg in front of my cathedral go next door boy next door boy
next door the Buddhala idols clash with
the golden walls of mirage purpose Vegas you say i guess let’s get
away oh yes brothers yes the young
of evermore fodder for the dirty lust i must i trust i shall
be cleansed the flock will not be
taken Satan must not win but he would go play poker what you
say yes he can 7:13 ok roller
square dice baby pierce the bribes of common let the goat go to
the edge don’t let the innocent crumble
Pershing Square wakes up
fading light but nothing new
i look down again
drops of rain fall hard
red sweater by the side of
the road crushing cans
i am tired.
the gray in the lining
of my soul is see-through.
my love is withered and
no petals in my chamber
for my chamber is a street.
i am hungry and cold.
the fire in my spirit has
smothered its last spark.
the matches of life have
been stolen by proposals
regulations and copper pipes.
my feet no longer carry
dignity and strength.
my arms no longer capture
me at my disgrace.
i am numberless in the
bar code of the beast.
i think you are
wrong to stand in my
way. you seek to
destroy all that
is left in my brain.
i did kill a man
with blows from my hand.
fiercely to his bones
ripped out his
soul and threw it away
in a tin not too much
unlike you. i own this
nirvana of concrete and pain.
watch all the sinners and i watch
all the saints on my
circadian treks. i am not lonely
in spite of my face for look
to my right there is my race.
unbeknown to them yet though
here i stand. they are nearing
the end of the bind.
usher them to this abysmal entry.
where your soul goes
the killing continues with the will
of their hand.
today i open my eyes and rise to another day. it’s a special day and i am grateful. so many hours, so many days have come and gone. i am grateful for that too. for in that time frame i have become a little wiser or at least better able to survive. i worry that in the process of survival i will forget to dream. you have always cradled my dreams alameda street. today is extra special with Our Lady Queen of Angels hosting all of the believers who also survive in any way they can. i can afford some day-dreaming and wasting of time, but those days are slowly withering away, eroding like the bricks on your side my Lady. with faith you were risen and from these rocks and clay; from faith i was allowed to be born, but a different path had to be followed so that i might be here right now. had a more popular road been chosen for me, i would not be here with you fair Queen. now in your smog and your electric heat and rules and stop lights, i will faithfully rise again tomorrow and spill out unto the alameda once more.
do black holes exist or are they something i read about in a comic book? are those beautiful pictures of nebulas shaped like crabs and other creatures that i see in the science magazines real? how can i know for sure that this very night i am walking home? how can i know for sure that i am walking back to a home and that i will get there? can a black hole, if it is real snatch me up? would it think i am important? does it matter what religion scientists are? does it matter what i believe? does God want me? do i want God to want me? if i give and give and give will it make a difference? is it better to take and take and take? is my smile enough to save a dying life? my own? if i am sad is it bad? am i broken in an unfixable way? can i benefit from anything modern? am i too late for anything old? did i ever make love? do i have control over any war? do i have control over any deficit? do i reward bad and punish good? if i reward bad on earth and punish good on earth, will the bad go to hell and the good to heaven? why can i not explain what i know? is that bad? is dreaming bad? did Gabriel pinch my lips together? or did i just get punched on the mouth? should i talk? should i judge? would that make me a better person? am i compassionate? is there a time and a place for everything? what did my mother raise? did she have a hand at molding me? why do i like what i like? why do i like what i don’t like anyway? do i contribute to my perdition? am i good? does anyone think of me? do you?