"if it was up to me, honey,
my beard would be 3 ft. long
I'd never cut my toe nails,
live in Tangier
eating oranges and
writing poems."

     "is that a poem?"

"no, it's simply not true."

If I knew what to write...

I would have done so already.


There are thousands of words lined up waiting for attention at my IBM Selectric III. there is a tenseness in my shoulders which is found to be un-ignorable. I read the Harper's Index and as usual found irritation and disgust among its figures. There is no way out of this mess - only through it, maybe.
Life isn't a rat race but a series of uninteresting mazes without cheese at the end. No cheese, not even the government cheese.
certainly no wine and crackers unless you are in a daycare filled with white folks. proof of God's sense of humor can be found in every bathroom across the nation simply by locating the sink and looking above it at eye level.

written a year and two months ago - a revisit

off the cuff

Most of the greatest poets it seems really are assholes. I believe poets to be highly opinionated egotists bent of displaying to the audience the poet’s mind and naked view, almost a forced voyeurism, of not only the world the poet occupies but the audience that reads them as well. As a poet you must be ballsy and arrogant to even consider participating in the art as an adult as a serious pursuit I mean to say.

hand some women a banana

and they eat it.

Hand it others

and they masturbate on the spot.

off the cuff

but most would talk

about it, indefinitely.

meanwhile, I'll

sleep as sound as poet in

post

coital recreation

aftermath.

This is clearly a post while avoiding an actual post

I've managed to sit back at my typewriter these past few days and get out a few letters I owe to some folks - if you are one of those folks - it'll be in the mail today.

There is the greatest amount of unfinished poetry in my box right now and as where I've the will to finish it, I've not the words or the clarity to see where the fault in the line lies.

I've been avoiding the dentist because I am in no pain - even when I eat a candy bar, which is unusual. However, after remembering all the pain control medications I am on I realized that I wouldn't know if I were in pain or not unless it was as severe as my leg/hip/back/foot. There is a dentist appointment in my future.

I've been selected, without application, as the parent representative of my kids school to interview potential principles along with two teachers and the superintendent. It will be his final choice but my voice will be heard. Quite an honor to be chosen out of 1400 parents - some of whom requested to be the representative. I love interviewing and was always good at it, would have been a police officer if I wasn't so damn distrusting of them.
Some say it is best to change the system from within - I disagree as once you join the group you are part and parcel of said system and gain, though human tendency, a sense of amity and understanding within the group.
people are resistant to change and may villainize the agent of even the most positive of changes.

if never tested, principles mean nothing and have no value.

broke one of my favorite coffee cups today - it had the definition of 'nascent' relayed in a humorous fashion.

sometimes there are things for which no other person can relate without being in situ, alongside your experience. This is the struggle of my poetry about pain.

a recent poet needs to be wrought into shape as a poem - it was that good.

this will receive no such treatment.

there is a king

tuned guitar and placed on the floor.
to live without.
waking up.

I've stacks of magazines on my desk awaiting notice of content, bills that I'd rather not pay as I fail to see the quality of the service and its addition to my life.

my watch has a broken off hand noticed only once at the airport and too late to change it for another. I love watches and collect them - nice ones but rarely wear them, preferring to be unencumbered from time and appointment. preferring to be unencumbered by diploma of life and riches and sun stained shoulders and neck.

but this isn't my life anymore and I don't work or add to a community that does not want words of perspective.
waking up.

ideation of end of life scenarios with tool of end game held firmly in hand but persistence of the flowers in the mornings and birds singing at five am -
waking up.

I remember a moment so brazen, bold - coming now with apple and white tooth smile hidden behind a beard or bad breath.
waking up.

suddenly 80 degrees Fahrenheit, suddenly humid and I sculpt memories out of tar and sand,
this is today.
this is where you can find me.
waking up.

poor poor Shel

Shel, I'll never forgive you for leaving us, as I'll never forgive all those tethered to my heart except the one who left to leave behind her pain.

Shel didn't die those years ago - he just went home.

full moon fifty miles outside Chicago 72° heavy
winds from the should standing under the starry’d night
sky and this is what I’m thinking…

ainsi il va.

for our second post today - we give you a link -
click here.

Monday monday, pinched nerve and a hard on

awoke with an inability to move my neck and a completely engorged member. This made it difficult to remove myself from the comfort of a king, stationary under a threadbare blanket.

I've three letters to write and have been ignoring my friends somewhat. Not intentional but a movement in a symphonic life teeming with incredulous memory.

coffee is unprepared but waiting.

I am growing more concerned about the influence of people who view me as an enemy. Don't they know I love them, don't they know I sit concerned at midnight about their health.

unfinished

one hand moves swiftly against the other,

(a final act of

expression.

a final act of

rebellion.)

wisping eagerly

against the fiddling wind

life dropping,

weighted,

still

on tiled, unclean

bathroom floors.

 - Hoc Scripsi

happy coca-cola day!

Today, 125 years ago, John Pemberton concocted his cure all tonic which would eventually keep America stoned until they removed the special coca ingredient - probably resulting in the seventies and eighties coke binges and nose bleeds.

I hear my son walking around singing and now I shift from soda products and soda jerks to the woman who everyday makes me proud and reflects a light that comes from a place I am not aware, My wife - the perfect mother and a fine woman. Baby, happy mothers day - I won't bill you for the pancakes and bacon this time.
It takes a fine woman to raise a boy like Jackson and to tolerate a man such as I.

I love you baby.


My Mother - a woman rarely spoken of here largely of her unwillingness to allow me to share her story which is a hell of a story - I'll wait for her to perish and tell it, damn her sisters that would probably be eternally upset by its truth. Anyway - Thank you for bearing me into this world and, variously, assisting me in becoming the man I am now.

My secondary mother - my sister. Thank you for never dressing me up as a girl, thank you for holding me in your lap and I bled half my bodies capacity onto your body and lap - you were twelve and mistaken for my mother - this is not the last time that has happened - now I call you my little sister as I am a manly 6'2", 300 lbs and you no where near it. It was so good to see you recently and I can only hope you take my wife's offer to stay here on respite from a blissful like in Colorado.

regret

I

   regret

  things

 like

         parking

           spaces

but never lovers.

one

        thinks

       of

            looks

         across

                      tables

                              or

           rooms

but never someone who broke your nose.

 - HocScripsi

Seis de Mayo

To celebrate Cinco de Mayo yesterday I wanted a BLT but had chicken instead.
get it get it get it???

bad joke and I am not up on my game at the moment.

Illinois failed to pass a law legalizing the right of the citizens to protect themselves from harm. All criminals rejoice at the easy pickings! Also, it is an estimated 40 million that the state would have seen in increased revenue from the licensure alone over the next two years. A state going broke turns down revenue by three votes and once again Chicago is the cock block.
better to be tried by twelve than carried by six.

1. the bending of steel

poetry.

coffee.

a love of hard liquor.

rifles, shotguns, pistols

revolvers.

men were bound by

thinner threads then these.

2. hammering to form

poetry.

coffee.

a love of hard liquor.

rifles, shotguns, pistols

revolvers.

man’s bind was broken by

thinner threads than these.

3. the fine blade

beauty.

art.

love.

the eyes and body move

of a naked dancing muse.

man’s mind was broken by

thinner threads than these

 - Hoc Scripsi

sunlight.

I can sleep in sunlight,
natural light,
but not artificial light.

no matter how an artificial day attempts to be
my body prefers the heavens radiation.

prose/poem/prose poem/ as I opine about my poetry slightly

I've started another blog because I liked the url that was available. I have yet to do anything with it other than ramble about my mental abberations.
it is http://mentalslip.blogspot.com
don't expect much there as this blog is still my main place of blogging communication.

I am having trouble choosing poems for the next print edition on PigeonBike - the first four I sent were rejected much to my surprise but upon rereading I can now see what the publisher wants - this is an important lesson in submitting (submission), knowing what the publisher is looking for. Now I am considering the voice that the original two published there were written in. They are heavily influenced by David Ignatow which is a voice I like to write in as it is similar to mine. What I would like is to find a place for my half poetic prose half poem pieces - this is an honest voice that I love but have found no takers that I know of yet. There are some out there right now but we shall see.

as an example:

stunned and lovely

I'm suppose to be writing the most perfect of poems but am sitting around doing nothing. I'm disgusted by the news on the wire and prose badly written meant to move us to tears. but this is nothing that we haven't seen before this is nothing that I've not written before, it's not my birthday so there is no excuse and the book on my nightstand rests with the mark on page 309, SO I trade in bonds to pay for new landscaping and feel really stupid and wonder what I will hear next but not from who.

most of all I really want to be stunned and lovely.

fuck the songs that say differently, it is never easy unless it is. Standing out strongly but in fear and not beautiful but gently. It was last friday night and suspecting that this would be here like it is and I'm not saying good bye.

here's to life!
here's to life.
viva la vida -
a star, quarter,
four fingers of Johnnie Walker
chocking back the innocence
to truly gain perspective.

 - Hoc Scripsi

I love this style and am still learning to breathe in it.