why are you here?

www.willfulresemblance.com

click above.


that is where you should be.

Moving day

moving day has arrived and there are posts there that are not here.
I've decided to stretch my legs with WordPress a bit. I have been dissatisfied with blogger and all the recent changes to the dashboard and posting pages and such are enough to drive me batty. It isn't that I abhor change but I do like to be involved and have a bit of a say - especially when it comes to a platform that I am used to using. I will maintain this blog in addition to mental slip but will be posting at WordPress and combining those two blogs.
it is easy to find the new/moved blog - just type into your address bar or click - www.willfulresemblance.com - sign up for e-mail notification and never miss a post. I make no promises about posting regularity or profundity of poetry only that I will still be the proletariat  poet and prostitute.
how's that for alliteration?
remember:
www.willfulresemblance.com

it will be a grand adventure - but now, I am off to the pistol range to continue breaking in my new 1911 Range Officer and 1911 GI compact.

life is good.

I am fairly certain that I became an artist for the pussy. I learned that when you successfully sell a show there is even more pussy. Getting girls to come into my studio (where there was a bed) was never a problem and then getting them naked was even easier. Tons of pussy in painting if you do it right.

When I got tired of the pussy I stopped painting and took up jazz for the ass it provided.

Poetry has never gotten me laid except by my wife and that is only a maybe. I think it could but I am not interested in that - only the poetry itself.

Playing guitar also never really got me laid - and these are the things I continue to do to this day - guitar and poetry - guitar less so and poetry more so.

Also Ukulele.

Happy 4th!

 (if only I'd gone to school to learn to blow shit up, I could have done this for a living)

For my overseas readers - read the title line as - Happy Monday!

(this will have to do as finding an image for happy Monday that wasn't cheeky or didn't involve breasts and kittens was too much work.)

What I think is that we celebrate on the incorrect day. Unless what we are actually celebrating is the declaration of war or the intent to be independent and taxed by our own people.

To celebrate our actual independence it ought to be moved not to the sixth of July (which was the original celebratory day but the fourth sounded better (citation needed)) but to September 3rd in recognition of that fateful day in 1783 where we actually gained independance and collectively said "what now?" - to be answered by "I don't know, we're fucking broke - someone call China or start taxing the peeps, or both." (citation needed).

But, I write this in America where we love our violence and wars, bloodshed is best remembered with a lot of explosions and many many missing fingers.


So, today I am playing the hell out of my ukulele and spending much time on the about to be painted deck.
here is another image which I found but couldn't fit in anywhere else.

(this is the kind of stuff that eliminates fingers from children and stupid men.)

premature ejaculation

firecrackers, bottle rockets and gunfire.
July 3rd premature ejaculation punctuating
already poor sleeping summer night.

roman candles blue center light sizzling
like so many horribly dangerous sparklers
blinding and burning.

mortars shake the house and

dozens of fingers and hands sacrificed
at the alter of popular patriotism.

 - Hoc Scripsi



A few links which contain the ability to have new poetry not only by myself but by others as well.
Pre-order - PigeonBike (beyond the broken bridge) here - DO IT NOW!!!

and free to read on the internet and/or print copies to keep and give away! If you give some away get photos and send them to me and I will get the to the proper place where each image will be celebrated.
Get one or all eight issues here - also, DO IT NOW!
I appear in volumes 1, 3 and 4 - however, a lot of my good friends and some excellent poets appear across all volumes so I suggest you read them all.

Judas

For several years I've thought about Judas. My intention is a long poem. My intention is to visit this theme as a poetic eulogy and I've thought and thought.

The Jesus kisser.

I am informed by the Gospel of Judas Iscariot.

Judas got a raw deal.

I am also informed by the clarity of non-indoctrination and the curious mind.

Judas has been marked for eternity by possibly well meaning folk but misdirected and Judas' actions have been greatly misunderstood. What would you do?
What if your leader, companion, most trusted adviser and advocate asked you to betray. Would you be the friend that you have purported to be or would you actually betray by not following these wishes. We must remember that they were after Jesus regardless of Judas' finger and kiss and silver paid. We must remember that the wheels had been turning against him, he would be found but the only thing that could be controlled by the 12 (or 13, and I think 13) was how and where.

Asked not to understand, asked not to explain or have the revelation needed or peace it would offer, asked to send shepherd away to be slaughtered by the shepherd.

Judas was no coward but displayed strength and fortitude that I doubt many have, it must be why he was chosen from the go.

I mourn Judas, wish to eulogize him, offer him his proper epitaph, his song -


"You will exceed all of them. You will sacrifice the man that clothes me."

Jesus knew what has to transpire - and if there was divine vision, he knew before he shook that hand of the man who would kiss him.

this makes 4 in a year.

All the raccoons seem to die in my backyard. There are now two perished which I will have to bury later today. K came in the bedroom weeping over the deaths. She is a mother and feels for the mother and children of all animals. Her compassion, sometimes hidden, has always made her beautiful.

nature has a way of knocking the wind out of you.

Ukulele's are a blast to play.

County stickers are due to be on vehicles today - I suppose I ought to go get one or two.

I've no interest in the goings on of wall street thought, again, I ought.

Now I need some wood, paint and a few other things that will go unmentioned as they are interesting only to myself and voyeurs.