01.06.15
how
is
this fair?
You
Kiss
Me
First
With
Passion
Then
With
Hunger
Then
Tenderly
With
Affection
How is that
Fair?
Who
Does
That?
02 June 2015
31 May 2015
28 May 2015
27 May 2015
25 May 2015
22 May 2015
21 May 2015
19 May 2015
17 May 2015
16 May 2015
Valentine’s Day
This is not your flat. It’s too posh and clean, and dreadfully lit by the sun like a terrarium. She is still asleep She’s attractive considering her make-up and tonnes of blonde hair are from the dungeon like club, where you met her in. Her tan skin contrasts your snow-white tan, you look at her body, and she’s a stunner. Bits of last night come back industrial music loud trying to talk staring in to pale blue eyes the spontaneous combustion. Bloody snogging up against the wall her legs snaking around you the clock says 9:33, as she obviously has a job. She will be stirring soon- scarper time. Clothes scattered around her little black dress and stiletto’s. A shower would be nice, or another go, but that would mean conversation, beyond, fuck you’re sexy! On your part, and her you’re so cool! Still looking at her cute landing strip you need a cigarette more than, ever or perhaps a little taste of something stronger
You gather jean’s, Black T-shirt, black leather jacket de riguer for your tribe. Slip-on your boots you don’t make noise, no one in regiment does. Thankfully there is a pack of player sailor cut cigarette‘s in your jacket. You slip on blackout shades. Much better go down the stairs. You see the half bath and give yourself a quick prosty bath.
Out the front door, you see your bike. You pick up the paper on the lawn and see the Date its Valentine’s Day Sunday. The manor is exploding in a riot of leaf blowers, and unreasonably bright sunlit cigarette bonnie kick-starting, roaring to life back to concrete canyons. You wonder what parties are going on for Valentine’s Day.
15 May 2015
14 May 2015
13 May 2015
11 May 2015
10 May 2015
09 May 2015
08 May 2015
Adieu Mon amour in progress
When Amie comes by it can be for an hour, or a week. “It’s always so cool when I come and you’re here waiting on the steps.” Amie sits, safety pin in cheek, bustier, thigh high boots, mini skirt, Mohawk (I nearly cried when she cut her hair). No Matter what she does, she looks like a Botticelli.
“I am going to shower,” Amie says, giving me a kiss, as she takes a cigarette. I have beer, food, and of course Gin. I open the door, the AC hits, feels so good. Amie steps in front me and walks to the stereo, and put’s on “Alien Sex Fiend.” The music takes her as it always has, from back in the days when she drove down from the ’burbs.
I was the chucker at that concrete bunker which, was the cathedral for our sacred music, the musings of the prophets written in sharpie on the walls, plastic glass, and raw energy everywhere. I let her in underage, because those baby blues are now, and have always been, my kryptonite. I was taken by for her the moment we met. I protected her then, and now I get a weekly calls from her Mum, asking, “Is she OK?”
Her Mum knows she lives with Mick, but he doesn’t have a phone, or AC.
I open a beer for her, she steps out her clothes, takes it with her into the shower, singing along. I watch her graceful walk, she look’s over her shoulder, and smiles, as she walks in the bathroom. Smiling that, I still watch my punk china doll, I have a robe, and toothbrush for her.
Mick quit talking to me months ago, but I still take a bag of food once a week to make sure they eat.
“I need a shot,” she says. I go get the kit, she finds a magazine too look at, as to show me she will not look where I retrieve it from. I love Amie dearly, but I am not sharing a needle.
She starts the ritual, retrieving glassine packet and mixing it with the pack she has into a spoon, holding the spoon over the candle. I watch it cook. She fills one spike with a small hit and hands it to me and keeps the spike with a larger dose.
I am light, and she knows it. The occasional skin pop. It hits me like a bullet, I throw-up and start my nod. She hits a vein, and goes out straight to heaven.
I come out enough for any sort of activity, it’s dark, and Amie’s watching tele.
Amie looks up at me and asks, “ Can I stay?”
I answer, “Sure, no one’s coming tonight.” She’s wrapped in her robe gives a smile.
“Are going to Theorem tonight?” I ask.
Amie hit me with an incandescent smile, and says, “Could we?!”
I can make that happen, she runs to the bathroom to get ready. I put on music for her to dress too. She announces ready, and we make our way downtown.
There is something about the music we like. It is usually played in economically depressed urban areas, and there are more people in the car park, than inside. Filled with scousers and run-a-ways. In the club, we’re known and say hello to everyone. Amie goes to get a go spot in the mosh, all 90 pounds of her, raw nerve. How she manages in 4-inch heels is a mystery to me. I ride the show out at the bar. Amie comes to take a beer, and heads back to the pit.
At last call, we leave to find food. Ending up as it seems we always end up, having a burrito. The Tacqueria. It’s casual good, as we are dressed for mosh, and cheap. Our friends all end up here. We hit the door of my flat the cool air washes over us. She gives me a kiss, I need a shower again, and goes to the stereo putting on music, she fancies. Starts taking off her clothes, as she walks towards the shower, and turns, saying, “Aren’t you coming?”
“OK, “ I answer. We’re occasional lovers, so it’s a nice surprise. Amie can stay a week without ending up in bed, or not. She’s always affectionate and sweet. In the shower I wash her Mohawk, and gently wash her. Outside the shower I follow her to the bed.
Amie is different, very shy, and coy. I feel like she’s telling me something.
In the morning she wakes me, having made coffee. She is walking towards the bed nude. As I sip my coffee, she says “Claim me, take me. “ This is the lover I know, spontaneous combustion. Taking pleasure and drinking deeply of it. I put down the coffee, and pulling her into bed, take her. She is so light, it‘s easy to pick her up. She is possessed, an angelic succubus. She moans, at first, rising to a scream, and then she falls asleep after a cigarette. I awake, she’s dressed and taking up her kit. Amie looks at me and says “Thanks, it was fun… I’ll see you soon, OK?”
“I love you,” I answer, as she lets herself out, the last part sounding like a plea. It rings in my head for a long time.
The next time I hear her name is when her Mum invites me to the funeral mass.
When Amie comes by it can be for an hour, or a week. “It’s always so cool when I come and you’re here waiting on the steps.” Amie sits, safety pin in cheek, bustier, thigh high boots, mini skirt, Mohawk (I nearly cried when she cut her hair). No Matter what she does, she looks like a Botticelli.
“I am going to shower,” Amie says, giving me a kiss, as she takes a cigarette. I have beer, food, and of course Gin. I open the door, the AC hits, feels so good. Amie steps in front me and walks to the stereo, and put’s on “Alien Sex Fiend.” The music takes her as it always has, from back in the days when she drove down from the ’burbs.
I was the chucker at that concrete bunker which, was the cathedral for our sacred music, the musings of the prophets written in sharpie on the walls, plastic glass, and raw energy everywhere. I let her in underage, because those baby blues are now, and have always been, my kryptonite. I was taken by for her the moment we met. I protected her then, and now I get a weekly calls from her Mum, asking, “Is she OK?”
Her Mum knows she lives with Mick, but he doesn’t have a phone, or AC.
I open a beer for her, she steps out her clothes, takes it with her into the shower, singing along. I watch her graceful walk, she look’s over her shoulder, and smiles, as she walks in the bathroom. Smiling that, I still watch my punk china doll, I have a robe, and toothbrush for her.
Mick quit talking to me months ago, but I still take a bag of food once a week to make sure they eat.
“I need a shot,” she says. I go get the kit, she finds a magazine too look at, as to show me she will not look where I retrieve it from. I love Amie dearly, but I am not sharing a needle.
She starts the ritual, retrieving glassine packet and mixing it with the pack she has into a spoon, holding the spoon over the candle. I watch it cook. She fills one spike with a small hit and hands it to me and keeps the spike with a larger dose.
I am light, and she knows it. The occasional skin pop. It hits me like a bullet, I throw-up and start my nod. She hits a vein, and goes out straight to heaven.
I come out enough for any sort of activity, it’s dark, and Amie’s watching tele.
Amie looks up at me and asks, “ Can I stay?”
I answer, “Sure, no one’s coming tonight.” She’s wrapped in her robe gives a smile.
“Are going to Theorem tonight?” I ask.
Amie hit me with an incandescent smile, and says, “Could we?!”
I can make that happen, she runs to the bathroom to get ready. I put on music for her to dress too. She announces ready, and we make our way downtown.
There is something about the music we like. It is usually played in economically depressed urban areas, and there are more people in the car park, than inside. Filled with scousers and run-a-ways. In the club, we’re known and say hello to everyone. Amie goes to get a go spot in the mosh, all 90 pounds of her, raw nerve. How she manages in 4-inch heels is a mystery to me. I ride the show out at the bar. Amie comes to take a beer, and heads back to the pit.
At last call, we leave to find food. Ending up as it seems we always end up, having a burrito. The Tacqueria. It’s casual good, as we are dressed for mosh, and cheap. Our friends all end up here. We hit the door of my flat the cool air washes over us. She gives me a kiss, I need a shower again, and goes to the stereo putting on music, she fancies. Starts taking off her clothes, as she walks towards the shower, and turns, saying, “Aren’t you coming?”
“OK, “ I answer. We’re occasional lovers, so it’s a nice surprise. Amie can stay a week without ending up in bed, or not. She’s always affectionate and sweet. In the shower I wash her Mohawk, and gently wash her. Outside the shower I follow her to the bed.
Amie is different, very shy, and coy. I feel like she’s telling me something.
In the morning she wakes me, having made coffee. She is walking towards the bed nude. As I sip my coffee, she says “Claim me, take me. “ This is the lover I know, spontaneous combustion. Taking pleasure and drinking deeply of it. I put down the coffee, and pulling her into bed, take her. She is so light, it‘s easy to pick her up. She is possessed, an angelic succubus. She moans, at first, rising to a scream, and then she falls asleep after a cigarette. I awake, she’s dressed and taking up her kit. Amie looks at me and says “Thanks, it was fun… I’ll see you soon, OK?”
“I love you,” I answer, as she lets herself out, the last part sounding like a plea. It rings in my head for a long time.
The next time I hear her name is when her Mum invites me to the funeral mass.
07 May 2015
04 May 2015
03 May 2015
02 May 2015
storming heaven
Punk’s Storming Heaven
Sweet one, friend, lover, and comrade in arms.’ Just walk away from posers’, sycophants, and self-important, self-righteous old fucks. They are not worthy of your attentions.
You haver lived the life and continue to live, dream, and be it. You recognize the sacred music. You both, create it and savour it. You and both have experienced the stigmata and screamed in ecstasy as it appeared on our arms and in our souls.
One day we will storm heavens gates armed with sacred switchblades, clothed in blessed black leather. Punks’ mobs, looking like a cross between the nomads of the “Mad Max,” and “Sid and Nancy.” Refusing to pay cover and demanding, drink tickets. Walking backstage, and chopping heavenly lines. Shooting heaven straight into our necks
Don’t be angry, but instead pity them, as they have not your grace,
Punk’s Storming Heaven
Sweet one, friend, lover, and comrade in arms.’ Just walk away from posers’, sycophants, and self-important, self-righteous old fucks. They are not worthy of your attentions.
You haver lived the life and continue to live, dream, and be it. You recognize the sacred music. You both, create it and savour it. You and both have experienced the stigmata and screamed in ecstasy as it appeared on our arms and in our souls.
One day we will storm heavens gates armed with sacred switchblades, clothed in blessed black leather. Punks’ mobs, looking like a cross between the nomads of the “Mad Max,” and “Sid and Nancy.” Refusing to pay cover and demanding, drink tickets. Walking backstage, and chopping heavenly lines. Shooting heaven straight into our necks
Don’t be angry, but instead pity them, as they have not your grace,
Satan looked confused asks for my file. He starts reading taps Beelzebub they walk off, and talk Satan come’s back, and say’s “I have looked over your history, and there’s nothing here you haven’t seen, you qualify for our tour guide package. “
I answer “Brilliant, where do you keep the fallen Angel’s? There a lounge that, looks cool.
The women are amazing. I just have to avoid some my exes. Tour guide show people Hitler, Stalin, Nixon, W and Cheney
The fans are cool, we all knew we were headed here; just didn’t care.
I feel at home already. I recognise a lot of people. I hear my name shouted every so often. The fallen angels are serious party girls. My exes are still arguing who’s set in Mademoiselle was better. Who had more covers? This isn’t at all much different from my last life. I am going to see a show tonight, with a fallen angel tonight; I fit in just fine.
30 April 2015
The souk
Algiers
In search of opium
And
9.mm shells
against the wall
a beauty
with deep gaze
it haunts me
after the opium
did she
exist at all
the next few days
I
Search the usual tourist haunts
Calling
garçon avez-vous vu la jeune fille touristique je leur ai demandé ?
like an opium dream
she is
gone
29 April 2015
25 April 2015
Dinner
It’s an appropriately trendy, and actually good restaurant. The menu has been discussed, orders given. A good choice of restaurants’ to regroup
The discussion turns to, “in the day.” The women speak of horribly flawed exes. Theirs.’ Friend’s, and sibling had. Boy’s/Men with bad habit’s, tempers, and choices. “It was fun a first so glad I/she got away.” Seem to be the universal theme. Looking back not so much with anger but a different perspective, than early 20’s selves.
I start to laugh inappropriately; they look at me, thinking one to many, Boorish, or just knowingly?”
I explain, “You know at a different table, that I’m that boy friend.” Now everyone laughs, because it’s true. I’ am the picture of nasty rumours. These kind, and beautiful women tolerate, and at times even celebrate my excesses
It’s an appropriately trendy, and actually good restaurant. The menu has been discussed, orders given. A good choice of restaurants’ to regroup
The discussion turns to, “in the day.” The women speak of horribly flawed exes. Theirs.’ Friend’s, and sibling had. Boy’s/Men with bad habit’s, tempers, and choices. “It was fun a first so glad I/she got away.” Seem to be the universal theme. Looking back not so much with anger but a different perspective, than early 20’s selves.
I start to laugh inappropriately; they look at me, thinking one to many, Boorish, or just knowingly?”
I explain, “You know at a different table, that I’m that boy friend.” Now everyone laughs, because it’s true. I’ am the picture of nasty rumours. These kind, and beautiful women tolerate, and at times even celebrate my excesses
24 April 2015
23 April 2015
21 April 2015
20 April 2015
19 April 2015
19.04.15
such a
Nice surprise
A
gone, gone
girl
with my coffee
Blonde with
My darkness
Stiletto’s ad a summer dress
In sea of denim
Come closer
Closer
Yes there
Now we will
Speak of
Love and lust
Of
You and me
my mouth devours you
Let
Them stare
Pity them
Life without passion
Is not life at all
They are
The
Walking dead
14 April 2015
04.14.95
In a bar
Next too
The place
Where my friend dances for men,
you say she sells herself
nicotine stained lungs I speak to you in tongues
And you say my life is a mix of Picasso, Kerouac
Lines, gin and women
I am too high to notice to gone to care
You say my
Madness comes from sadness
Then you
Quit saying anything
Still I miss you
Sometimes
In a bar
Next too
The place
Where my friend dances for men,
you say she sells herself
nicotine stained lungs I speak to you in tongues
And you say my life is a mix of Picasso, Kerouac
Lines, gin and women
I am too high to notice to gone to care
You say my
Madness comes from sadness
Then you
Quit saying anything
Still I miss you
Sometimes
13 April 2015
10 April 2015
09 April 2015
08 April 2015
The Gift
“Donnie, you notice that shite Ford been behind us all night?” I ask and check the mirror.
“I’ll bet Steve’s behind this! He’s having me followed because I left him!” Courtney rages
“It’s got be the guy in the khaki’s, you know the one who shows’s up with a newspaper everywhere we go.”
“Lets go get my car we re making this too easy.” It’s at her apartment Donnie starts driving there.
We pull into the complex.
“Blimey he’s half a block away he must’ve trained in Quantico,” I say. Inside Courtney’s flat, she makes drinks. We turn the stereo up. Don and talk she paces nervously.
“OK Love, we’re going out again you’ll sit in my lap. She is the younger soon to be Ex-wife of an oil executive, and 27 she’s a bit older than his kid, and lot older than me. She has long blonde hair a perfect tan, flawless body, and enhanced breasts. Tonight she’s wearing a little black dress and stilettos. She’s hard to miss especially in the places I go. We go to that concrete bunker, and the cathedral of 3-chord rock.
One of my friends run’s a little reconnaissance.
She walks by” 9mm. Ankle holster, and a newspaper. She smiles and keeps walking
“The port, Big Man owes us one!”
Mick comes by “I got all the film opens his jacket hands me film containers. I reach into my jacket and give him 2 glycerine packets. He hands me the canisters.
I exposed the film in the camera too, Reedy put the light from his Lambretta scooter on it.
“I’ll remember this, Thanks’ mate.” I shake his hand and slip him a 20$
“Getting in the car Don said, “II hope he doesn’t get lost.”
A candy apple red Corvette with side pipes and no top in the worst parts of town, even Clouseau can follow that, “ we laugh getting into the car. Courtney is light maybe 7 stone maybe 1.8 metres. A tall cool drink of water. We head for a bar on the port; our little friend behind us.
We file in go to big man’s table and pay respects. A waitress instantly brings drink the mountain of a black Man that, is big Man motions us to sit down. Donnie ‘s about 1.9 metres 16 stone looks smaller.
“Why you here dressed like a biker”” he says smiling.
“I got a little problem, the cracker sitting in his car looking scared,” I answer.
“He needs to go?” Big Man smiles.
“ I want him gift wrapped,” I answered laughing. Donnie and Big Man roar with laughter. Big Man signals waitress brings drinks bend over as he whispers.
He smiles folds his hands we chat while a band plays funk in the background.
The waitress hands me a paper bag in it car keys a Smith and Wesson 9 mm. a wallet a P.I. badge
Big Man laughs and says” he in the trunk of his ford.”
Don grabs the keys, and say’s Let’s make a delivery”
I shake Big Man’s hand, and ask, “We cool baby?”
He laughs “get your white ass out of my club, it’s dark out.” laughing,
Outside Donnie opens the boot says something and closes it.
When I get in the car Courtney burst with questions, “Oh my God is he alive!?! Who was that what is Donnie doing? Where are we going? “ “What exactly is it you do for a living?”
“OK yes alive, and pretty uncomfortable. Don is telling private investigator with Chris Dell that his info has been photocopied and that if he doesn’t give us a bother he will be OK. We are going to leave him on Steve’s Porch with a note, “Do you think you’re playing with children?” “I work at clubs play guitar when I’m lucky, and that's all you want to know .”
“OK I will smile. She answers.”
“I am not just a teenager you ask all the questions you like, I ‘m just giving you a gift.
Driving through the quiet posh neighbourhood . We pull down the street from Courtney’s soon to be ex. Don Carries the Chris Dell private investigator leaves on the porch rings the bell runs to my car, and starts driving. Like leaving a Halloween prank. “You couldn’t drive something less obvious,” Donnie says for the millionth time.
A few months later Courtney gets a generous settlement
Fading photo
Blair shows me photo so, old; do I remember? A bit, the Tri-Delta softball game, a night on 6th street, too many drinks, and a fight. Woman at that overrated club, “How is she punk?”
Turning to her boyfriend, you want to muzzle the bitch she’s getting on me nerves. Mate.
He turns his back on me. Never sees the punch open palm to the ear. He screams in pain and charges me at that point a hip throw introduces him to the floor.
Hard core still going off, I am calling the police!” I just walk off her swings are clumsy and easy to deflect. I don’t fight women. A friend, Jewel’s also a hard-core girl nails her with a full can of beer, in her face. She drops to the ground. A fiver, and a kiss to Jewels to cover her beer, and the next bar. Then we can’t go back to the sorority
Then cool spring night. A friend with a sofa. You sneaking in the morning. Me promising to show up to cheer. There I am in the stands later a tux shirt leather jeans and black-out shades in a sea of prep.. I just watching you not the game so hung over gauloises hanging out my mouth flask of tequila in my hand. Yeah, I remember me and you, Fire and Ice always steamy, never dull.
Blair shows me photo so, old; do I remember? A bit, the Tri-Delta softball game, a night on 6th street, too many drinks, and a fight. Woman at that overrated club, “How is she punk?”
Turning to her boyfriend, you want to muzzle the bitch she’s getting on me nerves. Mate.
He turns his back on me. Never sees the punch open palm to the ear. He screams in pain and charges me at that point a hip throw introduces him to the floor.
Hard core still going off, I am calling the police!” I just walk off her swings are clumsy and easy to deflect. I don’t fight women. A friend, Jewel’s also a hard-core girl nails her with a full can of beer, in her face. She drops to the ground. A fiver, and a kiss to Jewels to cover her beer, and the next bar. Then we can’t go back to the sorority
Then cool spring night. A friend with a sofa. You sneaking in the morning. Me promising to show up to cheer. There I am in the stands later a tux shirt leather jeans and black-out shades in a sea of prep.. I just watching you not the game so hung over gauloises hanging out my mouth flask of tequila in my hand. Yeah, I remember me and you, Fire and Ice always steamy, never dull.
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