Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Past Due


Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come you who are blessed by my father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you? The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine you did for me.’ Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’ They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you? He will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’                                                                                                Matthew 25:34-46

now it begins;
the time arrives at last,
no more excuses,
no more pretending,
no more room for denial;
you watched as my children
lay dying,
broken and bleeding,
naked and alone,
crying out for justice and mercy,
you smiled as I suffered,
you laughed while I was beaten,
you turned your backs
as I slowly starved,
your pursuit of pleasure and
perpetual comfort made
you soft and weak,
your greed has crushed you,
your delusions of grandeur
and self-importance have
blinded you,
your lack of understanding
and compassion has sealed
your fate,
your denial of truth has
damned you,
your destruction is assured,
your chosen leaders
have abandoned you to the
grave;
now it begins;
your time has come O Babylon;
payment is past due.
.
.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

nothing is as effective as defeat -Charles Bukowski


always carry a notebook with you
wherever you go, he said,
and don’t drink too much, drinking dulls
the sensibilities,
attend readings, note breath pauses,
and when you read
always understate
underplay, the crowd is smarter than you
might think,
and when you write something
don’t send it out right away,
put it in a drawer for two weeks,
then take it out and look
at it, and revise, revise,
REVISE again and again,
tighten lines like bolts holding the span
of a 5 mile bridge,
and keep a notebook by your bed,
you will get thoughts during the night
and these thoughts will vanish and be wasted
unless you notate them.
and don’t drink, any fool can
drink, we are men of
letters.

for a guy who couldn’t write at all
he was about like the rest
of them: he could sure
talk about
it.
Charles Bukowski - from: Play The Piano Drunk Like A Percussion Instrument Until The Fingers Bleed A Bit

Eileen


I wrote this almost 30 years ago, at the birth of my youngest daughter.

I held you
in those first few moments,
as your skin changed colors
from purple to white,
and wrinkles of youth
gave way to fresh new skin
of old age,
trembling
I held you tight,
and you were none to happy,
for you had traveled
quite a long journey,
so it was alright,
I hoped
that you wouldn't be sorry
that you came
to this strange land,
full of strangers
and even stranger habits,
that someday
you might even thank me
for having been there,
although deep inside
I knew that would never be,
for I had never said thanks
even once myself,
ah but a least
you were not alone,
we gave you a top 40 name,
which must have mean’t something
to all the disc jockeys across the land,
your arrival was well heralded,
and it was most definitely
worth the wait,
of course that was just my opinion,
I did the easy part,
but I’m sure
that the feeling is shared
by all concerned,
especially the one
who provided
your port of entry,
although at the time
it was a very painful
touchdown;
I was amazed,
but then
I frequently am.
.
.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Perfect Lives


Wouldn’t it be great,
if all the people
with all the answers
simply gave them away,
then everybody would know,
everybody could be
successful and wealthy,
satisfied and happy,
living perfect lives,
with perfect children,
perfect spouses,
perfect pets,
perfect relationships,
perfect physical condition,
perfect hair and teeth;
yeah, wouldn’t that be great?

It makes me wonder;
would Jesus have charged
$19.95 for the truth?
writing books about His
latest revelation,
producing a cd series
on the newest prophecy,
getting rich off
knowledge and wisdom,
living in a mansion,
driving a Benz,
selling tickets to sold out performances
of ‘Secret Church’,
hiding His personal wealth behind
tax shelters and non-profit
organization status,
after all;
“ Do not muzzle an ox
while it is treading out the grain.”
.
.

Cost of Living


What is the cost of living?
sadness,
joy,
sorrow,
suffering,
pain,
hopelessness,
satisfaction,
fulfillment,
emptiness,
loneliness,
death;
decisions made,
consequences paid;
for every breath there is a cost.

Evil in the name of righteousness,
hypocrisy in the form of light,
of such things are men made,
by such things do they fall,
standing fast on truths
they understand not,
blinded by sanctimonious testimony,
lost on roads leading to nowhere;
who shall pay the debt?
.
.

A Time for Everything


There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.  What does the worker gain from his toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil – this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him
Ecclesiastes 3:1-14
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.                                                                                                   Romans 8:37-38
In the early morning silence
You softly speak,
revealing mysteries and truths
I cannot fathom,
surpassing all my understanding,
that Your ways are not my ways,
that Your thoughts are not my thoughts,
that You are the vine
and I am just the branch,
that all my ideas,
all my words,
are nothing without You..
There is a time for everything,
a time to be born,
a time to die,
everything You do
endures forever,
nothing can be added to it,
nothing can be taken from it,
death does not end it;
nothing shall separate us
from Your love.
.
.

She Doesn't Need Anybody


She doesn't need you,
she doesn't need me,
she doesn't need anybody,
never has,
never will;
but still;
she hesitates for just a moment,
remembering a long forgotten
touch,
an embrace,
a kiss,
innocent and sweet,
tender and pure,
warm and moist,
it was the last time
she felt love,
it was the last time
she felt alive.

The moment passes,
never to return,
nothing speaks like silence;
she doesn’t need anybody;
and you love her
even more.
.
.

If These Hills Could Talk


If these hills could talk,
what tales they might tell;
moonlit nights,
modified muscle cars,
racing down winding
mountain roads,
delivering fresh batches
of weekly ‘shine’
to bars and honky-tonks
across the Roanoke Valley,
missing revenuers,
never to be seen again,
tucked safely in isolated
gullies and ravines,
their rotting bones
all that is left,
camouflaged fields of
the new ‘cash crop’,
growing undisturbed until
ready for market,
the armies of Grant and Lee,
flanking and counter-flanking,
trying to gain the higher ground,
each seeking an advantage,
the dead from forays
and undocumented skirmishes,
slowly dissolving into the
rocks and clay,
providing food for scavengers
and worms,
ancient rock altars,
built upon solitary ridges,
overlooking valleys far below,
shameful family secrets,
locked away for more generations
than anyone can remember,
silence the unspoken code;
if these hills could only talk.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Things Aren't Always What They Seem


I knew this dancer once,
she used to strip down on Waikiki
at this topless place on Kalakala avenue,
her name was Lisa,
half Filipino, half Chinese,
a very nice mix,
she had a great body,
nice tits, fantastic ass,
I used to get ripped and hang around,
waiting for her after the show,
I was riding a Harley then,
79 Lowrider,
black with lots of chrome,
I loved that damn machine,
we’d ride off into the Hawaiian night,
cruise around the island
until the morning sun came up,
stopping every now and then
on an empty beach
to take a hit of coke (she always had the best coke),
run our tongues down each others throats,
then she’d take me in her mouth,
with the waves washing up on the beach,
I never understood why
she would never let me do anything
besides play with those fantastic tits,
but when you’re about to cum
in the mouth of a beautiful stripper,
on an isolated Hawaiian ocean beach,
with the stars overhead,
after snorting great coke;
you don’t ask to many questions.

It was a nice arrangement,
very nice indeed,
then I had to go and ask her out
on a real date,
you know, dinner, dancing (respectable) stuff,
it was too much for her,
she said it was the nicest thing
anybody had ever done,
she started crying,
said she wanted me to know something first,
seeing as how we were about to be
a real boyfriend and girlfriend,
she said things weren’t exactly as they seemed,
she explained about hormones and an operation,
and how it felt being trapped until
gradually it sunk in.

Lisa and I never did have that date,
but you know what,
just between you and me,
I wish I had never asked her in the first place,
because if I hadn’t,
she never would have felt the need
to tell me about her big secret,
and we could have kept on
riding around the island after her shows,
but what really pisses me off,
in spite of it all,
if I’m really honest with myself,
which I’m usually not
when it comes to this subject;
she gave the best damn head
I ever had.
.
.

this too shall pass


Gibbons is the greatest there ever was,
Morrison said it better than all the rest,
Bukowski was the king;
this too shall pass.

like a river it flows,
on and on,
from here to there,
over before it ever
had a chance
to begin,
in the morning
you were gone,
never to return,
your taste still fresh,
your touch
lingering
on the wind,
your smell like
lilacs on a warm
spring day.

the last breath is breathed,
memories slowly die,
laughter gives way to silence,
the final journey awaits,
the empty darkness looms
ahead;
Gibbons is the greatest there ever was,
Morrison said it better than all the rest,
Bukowski was the king;
this too shall pass.
.
.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

The New 'Massahs'


America has always been about color;
not black, not white,
not brown, not yellow;
America has always been about color.
Slavery was never about race
or white supremacy,
slavery has always been about economics,
pure and simple,
using black men just made it feasible,
gave it a sort of justified nobility,
did skin color matter to the Romans
when they enslaved conquered nations?
did it matter to African chiefs and sultans who
enslaved their own people,
then sold them to white slave traders?
do you really think plantation owners cared
about the skin color of their cheap,
disposable work force?
don’t you think they would have used
poor, uneducated whites and saved all those costs of traveling
half-way around the world
if they could have gotten away with it?
but the truth is they couldn’t,
so they justified it with black men
brought from the dark continent of Africa;
after all, they weren’t real men
were they?
Slavery has never been about race
or the color of skin,
it has always been about something
much deeper,
it has always been about those who have,
taking from those who have not,
fear of homelessness and starvation
has replaced bullwhips and chains,
fear of losing what little one has
provides the new slaves of choice,
who patiently wait for crumbs
from the ‘massahs’ table.

The new ‘massahs’ come in all colors
but they all have one color in common;
green is the color
of true power and domination,
green is the color of the new ‘massah’;
but then it was all along,
wasn’t it?
America has always been about color.
.
.

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