Make better!

Certain things have a smell
Hippies and drunks-
Dope dealers vs dope users
Cops, pigs and soldiers-

They all have certain smells
Some smell like salesmen
Some like liars
Burn notice smells like Miami-

But your writing stinks
Everything has a smell
But your shit reeks-
It’s like fermented sock

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Skeleton standing at a view

The shadows linger and beckon
Down long corridors on windy nights
When all stands freer and your bones sing in the wind whistling free
Near hollow and empty and clattering
Near the hilt where they grip
A human sword and stand
With a soldiers grin
Facing the wind

Slung low and heavy the Cousteau

Slung low and heavy the Cousteau
Cold and steady absurd like general
Light weight low and holstered
Slung low and heavy
Heavy iron solemn steel
Cockatiels carved
Low and steady
Eyes red and ready
Solemn steel slung low
Holstered and heavy
Armchair poet slain for lack of living
Heavy prints led footfalls away
Armchair poet slain for lack of living
Slung low and heavy the Cousteau
He got up and walked away
Out the front door and down the street
Head to toe medieval shogun
Delivered- imperator’s decree

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Frost

Just seated
On the ceiling
To better view
The coming sky
The bolstered bulkhead.

Denounced and unending
Divorced and trembling
Calm and soothing
The lie of autumn
Hinting of a warm breeze
In bitter cool air
In dark of night.

Feel- my bones!

I feel it in my bones-
The lonely old heartache
The press of time
No less lessening
As a quickening comes to call
Comes to order
Amidst the brawl

I felt it come to order
in my bones
Thought you would-
Knew it should-
To have been brought forth-
Forward thinking!
In such a hall

In such a hall as this
Yes
I feel it in my bones

Car Crash on the 405

Driving down the 405
Heading to the whales vagina
And the traffic is a slut
It looms and lingers

We’re all stop and go
And question why we ever lived in Los Angeles
If only to test my shitty breaks
On a spot of bad luck

Then-

Three car pile up
A girl in a Honda
Some black dude in a Beamer
And me in a pick up truck

Oh don’t worry ma

It’s like
Just a bust
The bumper bust
Ah and my tires shred.

So that sorta sucked
But I limped my car home
And tomorrow I’m fixing
That goddamn pickup truck

The mad Greek cafe in baker

It took me a rootbeer on the side of the road at a Greek place in baker to figure out I was starving. My face looked haggard, eyes were shot and wild. I caught myself staring and looked away feeling nervous about making eye contact. Even if it was just with myself in the mirror. I was wearing board shorts, a stolen golf cap a beautiful decay tshirt. The punks heading west all move through place alongside truckers and regular garden variety tourists. Another busy day for baker at the mad Greek cafe.

I’m ok in this, my last ten spent on a gyro.

Then I’m zooming down the Mohave and heading home. The long 15 stretching before us. A long hike till Ncr territory.

Do you need something?

Do you need something?

Sat staring out the window

Not even daring
For a moment-

For a moment
Not even daring to dream

Because why do
And what for?

He said its hard to be an animal

You have to feed yourself he said

He said and sometimes you go hungry

Then there’s no one to help

To catch you up

Just the path you’ve chosen

And your own individual fall

Just being on the road

Rolling baby. We was rolling on a highway of cold gold
And a shining twinning grinning
Soft luminescent
Candle scented
Gleaming lightbulbs
Streaming electricity
Colorado river
Hoover dam utility
Seeing lights ahead
Moon above me
Still fat and yeller
Like some lazy cat
Aww smiling down from dem heavens
A look into heaven
Amongst the desert she is evergreen
Gambling in primm
Almost everything
Watch out for slim
Scum with a gun
Gotta run and hide
Or let the gunslinger slide
While you just run and hide
Caffeine pills
In lieu of cigarettes
Whiskey Pete’s
Rolled on by
Right through everything

Bout 42 miles left
Started in la
Moved on
Felt good
Just being on the road