in real time

no doubt i’m here real time as they say another year under my belt this late summer and what have i done jazz in my head most of the time now me more than ever two different people warm bubbly attentive to the rescue then the other me just like everybody else exhausted empty hurting under professional care but me thinks i need a tailor i’m falling apart at the seams the bigger my smile the wider the mess behind it but forward i confess and we must go in real time time what is time other than a sentence time time what is it keeping me in cages too little freak out too much freak out there is no middle ground God will i ever know why the time is what it is hey but on the bright side there is *Cassettes with Postcard from Kreuzberg in real time in real time not jazz but comfort looking out the window the birds and squirrels visit less often COVID wearing off i guess in real time hmm i wonder how the Traveling Wilburys would have covered Postcards or what would GnR have done Metallica is too harsh no me thinks Reeves is best in real time after work get food for pets hand out some change to the corner dweller for cigarettes so tired of you today L.A. in real time although you know i love you 

*Check this cool cat out https://nickreeves.blog/2020/05/29/her-anarchy-baffles-cassettes/

nail biter

we sat there just flopped on the hot sticky sidewalk waiting for inspiration to get up and walk i was the nail biter of the pack Nate was the food finder Noodle was the weed finder and one eye Byrna was just one eyed Byrna we thought that we might go panhandle in front of Clifton’s but there were two problems the first was that men thought i was a boy prostitute and after i’d animatedly correct the would be johns LAs finest would get called never a good idea for underaged Clash fans looking for meaning and a mellow yellow evening the kids got tired and took the bus home i walked over to the Cecil and loitered outside watching portly gray and brown pigeons bathing in grimy puddles under the city lights

the prophets of boyd street

cherish your life their eyes say while they take a sip from the poisoned well cherish all life organic beautiful gross untouchable evil or good all of it without boundary cherish the Unknown be wise some day you will know Us don’t question why or how we happen to be here their eyes sang in choir question your heart on how to move your soul onto higher ground all is not what it seems we are all not who you think we might be cherish your mind think think think and question your brother but cherish him as well the time of cheeks is over reason cannot not work without selfless charity from your heart cherish who you are

want

to want you to kiss my mouth hungry like a starving dog deep inside the tendrils of time perhaps inside of Tutankhamun’s tomb where he laid wrapped in magic to want you to look in me and search with your fingers like a carpenter looks for nails in an old rusty Folgers tin that looks much like my heart to want to breath you in like when you turn and give a final glance at a coffin’s bouquet of roses of your fallen enemy to want to scratch and dig my woman’s claws into your back as your masculine identity fucks my sad out to want to possess the honesty of a very small child to want to have the courage to do a lot of things and in the midnight sky when my eyes upturn alone i catch a snippet of the music of Shakespeare’s heavenly spheres that only the angel’s can hear

death of Joaquin

it starts off by an off beat Gregorian chant afternoon belly bloated with heat reruns of Felix the Cat on TV in his past there is a cave maybe he will have to retrace his steps there upon death as they say drool found on his face they gossip abscess on his left leg old black leather shoe scuffed Cuban heel by an original LP cover of the BeeGees to love somebody the irony thick as his moustache neighbor woman ratted red beehive hair hail to the Virgin Mary cat lady eye liner black lipped chiquita vampira cried to the fuzz that she’d gone to check on him on account they fucked every two months navy blue jeans creased to cut cement Pendleton blue white and gray cigarette burn holes fourth button missing from bar scuffle at Footsies last May Fruit of the Loom classic wife beater still stained with the blood of his grandfather a beloved heirloom his Marine days led him astray in the tunnels of the mind alphabet soup G issued pharm cocktailed with torture death and some bombs upon closer inspection Det. Mullen said he has a tattoo with the name of Belinda on his left breast and the cross con safos por vida mark on top of his right hand directly above the thumb crippled by a Derringer at the sweet age of twelve tomorrow was supposed to be the visit between he and his estranged MIT son who goes there on a scholarship won Joaquin had planned to gift him a gold plated LeCross and his Purple Heart medal for enduring a three year involuntary vacation for his country at the Hanoi Hotel

ueber alles in der Welt

shake well my soul on fire the water gone our words all liars cartoon Sunday morning blues grew up soon code red the rings of things evil we loved you but let’s not forget should not idolize because we’ll fall down first shake well into the eye of the pitch silent universe until the concert of the dawn is birthed with hallelujah meanwhile on Hill and First we cling to silly cardboard laws which are mathless in nature therefore null and void among the Let Us

philosophical phunk

the mind collapses violently the carnival of lies that entertained the young impressionable life suffered

a tear in it’s now rotted penetrable fabric cross stitches erupted with the weight of

boiling hot sin and the anger of the soul possessed by ignorance in the ultimate

court we will know who are the innocent Dante and i sipped old world rye

while we waited for the master of ceremony G Scott Heron to update us on

the state of the revolution and how the forests are ablaze and man stuck in

a maze of filters and face lifts and corporate octopussed armed megalomaniacs are worshipped for

curing babies to work the mines lest you forget not even you can nourish your

carcass on diamonds so we sit while the crowd let’s out

odd behavior

to practise a kind of common sense now would it make a difference medication domination exaggeration death of what we used to be for good bad or indifferent what is it in the seed of them that twists them this way would i know if God instructed it have you ever screamed trapped on your own dream while the glass walls shattered in your castle beware it could be real this panic that i feel while getting pushed into the forest

shallow breaths

what does rigidity feel like i wonder to not let your spirit fly in your dreams at night to have thoughts stiffly in the back of your head to say curse words at the top of your lungs to keep silent why is that why do it what to lose if only the shackles when my dreams are in joint session with the reality of the sun light i pipe down just a little but then i say what had to be said and i fly away from exploding angry penii used to getting their own way at times it’s true i have to do what if is required in a kicking scratching and fighting kind of way but tonight i party i come and join dream at last when sleep does come and kiss my lips when what we’ve done we’ve done

deep thought

see the jar

full of star debris

foresee the timid scars

chair on fire

the pair of tears

on the mohair rug do fall

drug i’m in love

my soul and heart

for you to tug

shoes walking bruise

the tattoo lamp

to clamp the jaw

a railway tramp he sings the blues

books with art of golden seas

hooks on hung the snooper looks

to dart across the windows

lest i depart with question mark

to the black door cave

across a lucid water

dreams are slaughter

silver daughters soar into the sky

to pour the naked words

atop of frozen embers