When “Catalina Fight Song” Sticks in Your Head

pushing petals to the weekend

keep something sweet and free

pushing petals for the weekend

so you can smile at me


die every minute

don’t discuss peace

they’re high in the bathroom

their hope is out of reach


pushing petals for the weekend

so you can fly with me

I’m dying in the evening

sweating in summer heat


pushing petals to the weekend

Gonna get our kicks for free


Elect Trump and I Jump

I’ve often thought about killing myself

but only for selfish reasons

only for selfish reasons

have I thought of killing myself

its never something noble

its never something noble

its not as if the human race would be



only for selfish reasons

its not as if the human race would be


for killing themselves

only for selfish reasons

would we build a fence

to keep ourselves in

would we build a fence

to become our own pets

to keep ourselves in

so no one else

could be selfish

only for selfish reasons

never to be better


only to kill ourselves




I am of Course a Vampire

I am of course

A false facer

Black heart

Silver tongued

Heartbreak café

From pink sunsets

And green sea’s

I will not be good

For you

I will feel good

But eat your heart

And drink your soul

I come from Entertainment—

Moguls with ecstasy rolls for veins

I am of course—

Quite taken with you

Put Down The Gun America

America loves drama and thumping dead things…

or extended metaphors for abusive drunks…

Ahh it’s both isn’t America?

You’re so cute the way you sit there quietly jaded and broken but smiling.

On the outside you are pristine little girl, you’ve got your smile, your angel’s wings and every thread you wear suits your every curve.

But I’m on to you America.

I know what you’re up to—

You just want to forget all that hell that follows close behind you!

Everywhere you go America— in the corners bars and buying cherry red sodas at the Chelsea druggists!

I see you— you sweep the room and scan for some face that might set you free.

Some shining single face that could take you by the hand and tell you everything is alright.

Or that its gonna be alright.

Some happy face that won’t hurt you, a pair of lips to carry you through the night.

I know what you are seeking America— I know— I seek it too.

In the drawn out parties and sad ballrooms of distended time when all the love you’ve ever felt is no more potent than an old nursery rhyme.

In the far away ghettos of frigid plateaus devoid of innuendo—

When any good thing is less than a memory—

When all your hopes and dreams taste like bitter goodbyes—

I know you America, for your truth and for your lies.

For the way you sit in the corner bar sipping on what?

The same cherry soda?

A Shirley Temple?

A Vodka tonic?

Liquid- reverie?

And you are neither blonde nor brunette but none of your friends are in between.

You are not Irish or Scottish, Chinese, Hindu, Nepali or Somali—

Neither West African nor South African or even English—

Not Russian or German or Welsh or Italian or Mexican or Spanish or Polish or Dutch—

Because you are all of these things America…

All of these things and more.

And America—

If you’d put that gun down I could really dig you baby.

If you took your knives and hooks out of me for a second and let me down off the rack—

If you quit putting me on your goddamn crucifix—

If you’d just never put another soul on that thing—

America, I could really love you.

Working class sonnet

I’m a genius and no one knows it
My girl reads my stuff
That’s good enough

But every once in a while
I think about publishing
Motherfucking. Daunting.

I’m not a virtue virgin
Don’t feed me to your children!
They might end up as punk pistols

I’m a writer but I’m raunchy
Even my friends don’t always understand me

We can grin

What else can we men do?
We can grin
When things are grim
And when the sun rises you’ll hear us laughing
What else can we men do?
The world is large and we are small
What can we do
But smile and grow more Haggard
As the years go
What can we do but smile all the more
When after all to smile is what these lips are for

Cadillac margaritas

Cadillac margaritas-
Cold in my hand
Shot stiff and empty
Water glass running
Ice cubes melting
These nights never end
I know these nights never end
I know a thousand hearts
Everybody’s got their special feeling
But nothing compares
A Cadillac margarita
In my baby’s arms


writing these spells

I recognize

the dusk is fading

As I take wind & sea

forest and jungle tree

deep down into the orchid

abandoning the magik of death

as best I can

Death still like a swamp

a stinking smell

that lingers on


perhaps I will wash it away

perhaps I will grow strong

Bloodstains and echoing footsteps in the doors of eternity

bloodstains and echoing footsteps in the doors of eternity

I am not known

nor ever seen

my words carry dead weight

my tongue speaks dead names

I call on the vampyers of olde to rise anon

and stryke free these chains

to starlight



and immortality