Archive for the ‘pollards and dents’ Category

I’m Back

Tuesday, October 21st, 2014

I’m back, I’m back
but I am a hack

Whatever my rack
I cut myself slack

when I should
be shooting for good

I end up bad
and ultimately sad

for my words
are like turds

and my pics
are deep six

I’m a hack
an artistic quack

I should be proud
and proclaim aloud

that these marks
like infinite sparks

are masterful strokes
and not childish jokes

So let not my mediocrity
be my final biography

for I’ve seen that shyte
can truly take flight

from out in the cold
to swimming in gold

I’ve heard many a rap
that was totally crap

so I accept
that the inept

is often seen
as really keen

Its really the frame
that is to blame

for making junk
loose its funk

to take center stage
and become a new rage

Right on
write on

let it flower
and take on power

from the funk
to the monk

stop being glower
and let the words shower

Pfffft …

who knows

Friday, November 23rd, 2012

Why is it so hard to get information you need?

Why is it hidden behind automated systems?

Why does no one know what you need to know?

It all looks like a huge shell game to me.

There really isn’t anyone who knows anything.

Including me.

nonday afternoon

Sunday, October 21st, 2012

Today feels like a Nonday.
I know it’s a Sunday
but then there are
Mondays that are Nondays
as well as
Tuesdays and others.

What day is it?
What time is it?
Does it really matter?
Should anyone really care?

It is always Today
which can be a Nonday
If I really want it to
And what if

I ran the days of the week
or sideways or
upside-down and

What the hell
as long as it is Myday
And not Yourday
Or Anyone Else’s.
By the way,
What time is it?

get what you want

Sunday, May 1st, 2011

Be careful what you ask for, you just may get it.

Gays and lesbians clamoring for marriage will end up having divorces —
something new perhaps and rarely any fun;

Fed-up Arabs seeking freedom and dignity may end up having
more repression, poverty and disappointment — that’s a sad one.

Something for nothing, a free lunch and easy money draw many
to learn as in an ancient Chinese proverb:

How do you know it’s good?
How do you know it’s bad?

To paraphrase the Stones:
you can’t always get what you want
but you always get what you need.

broken (inspired by bob dylan’s everything is broken)

Saturday, April 9th, 2011

broken dishes
broken parts
broken wishes
broken hearts

broken wheels
broken dials
broken deals
broken smiles

everything’s broken
nothin’ ain’t right
everything’s broken
it all seems so trite

broken boxes
broken gloves
broken foxes
broken loves

broken bottles
broken teams
broken models
broken dreams

everything’s broken
nothin’ seems to fit
everything’s broken
nobody gives a shit

broken strings
broken spines
broken rings
broken lines

broken oaths
broken herds
broken growths
broken words

everything’s broken
and it’s nobody’s fault
everything’s broken
we’re all at fault

broken meanings
broken findings
broken leanings
broken bindings

broken combs
broken ropes
broken homes
broken hopes

everything’s broken
nothin’ ain’t right
everything’s broken
it’s not a pretty sight

broken pintos
broken flies
broken windows
broken lies

broken fears
broken lights
broken tears
broken nights

everything’s broken
nothin’ to hold on
everything’s broken
even you are gone

broken cars
broken dives
broken bars
broken lives

broken roads
broken times
broken loads
broken rhymes

everything’s broken
nothin’s even here
everything’s broken
have another beer

broken chills
broken blinds
broken pills
broken minds

broken balls
broken brows
broken walls
broken vows

everything’s broken
everything’s broken



here we go again

Monday, March 21st, 2011

here we go again

here we go again
here we go again
here we go again

again, her we go again
we think we learn
we think we burn
we think we learn when we burn

here we go again
here we go again
here we go again

again, here we go again
we think we earn
we think it’s our turn
our turn to earn and burn

here we go again
here we go again
here we go again

again, here we burn again
here we earn again
here we turn again
but never learn again

here we go again
here we go again
here we go again

again, here we go again
it’s our turn to burn
’cause we always burn
and never learn

here we go again
here we go again
here we go again

again, her we burn again
we are the burners
not the burned
here we go again

here we go again
we think we are the learn-ed
because we’re always the earn-ed
here we go again

burners and burn-ees
learners and learn-ees
her we go again
will someone stop us please

again, here we go again
here we go again
here we go again

here we know — again
here we blow — again
here we go — again

color me green

Thursday, February 3rd, 2011

Green, green, green, green, green
Close your eyes, green, green,
I mean it, close your eyes and just see
green — green, green.

Green, green, brown, red green, green
green, brown, brown, red, green green,
evergreen trees, green, green, brown,
green, brown, red, black, white, gray,
green, grey, flowing creek, rushing water,
green, green, green, brown, red, black, white,
green, green, green, brown, red, black, white,
green, green, brown, red, black, white,

green, green, brown, red, black, white,
blue, green, green, brown, red, black, white,
blue, blue, green, green, brown, red, black, white,
blue, green, green, blue, brown, red, blue, white,
pitter, patter, blue, gray, white, gray, green, green
rain sprinkles everything, gray, green, blue, white
green, green, green, green

Breathe deeply, blue-green, blue-green, gray
white now red, orange, yellow, red, red, red,
brown, red, brown, green, red, brown,
as the bear devours your leg, red, red, brown on green.

We are always [green] surprised by what we [green] don’t expect.
So be ready for the [green] uninvited and serve them your best
green, green, red, brown and black, black, always black
— and blue, blue, blue. Boo-hoo. Woo-hoo. Blue, blue.


forked tongue speaks of two-sided coin

Wednesday, September 29th, 2010

I’ve always prided myself in my affinity to differing camps
the intellectual and the down and dirty normality
to the enjoyment of drink and drug, the rewarding joy of physical labor
to the engaging discussions of rhyme and reason, of art and taste;
to the endurance of agonizing pain and demoralizing realizations;
to the lofty exhilaration of conceptual discoveries and spiritual quests
along with the defeats and losses that seem to recur without end.

I love the raw expression of joy and anger, of winning and defeat
the stultifying numbness of boring repetition and the thrill of revenge
the finding of friends and the gifts of lonely pursuits
the open discussions of inner most fears and the quiet reflections
on secrets closely held and never admitted.

But where does this leave me or is it carrying me
into the continuing maelstrom of this scattered and shattered existence
seeking a roost, a place of comfort amidst my refusals to accept it
along with my desires to fly past anything resembling a cage
into which a solace may be found but lost in this continuing turmoil
that I find so orgasmic in its chaos and juxtaposing energies
that to my properly addled mind offers a unity of life and death.

The two-headed angel speaks with a long and forked tongue
of the two-sided coin, the double entendre and the double-barreled gun
of the one-for-all and the all-for-one
becoming the one-as-all and the all-is-one
in the place where all roads lead to none
and the waning moon is the setting son.

So go fuck yourself and leave me alone
to find my own way past this overdue swoon
where the high-blooded hipster is bad-to-the-bone
and the struggling loser is a man-in-the-moon.

rotting to perfection

Friday, September 17th, 2010

I used to feel like I was part of a mass movement for good
like a particle in a sea of positive elements all moving
in the same direction generally, each contributing
even though we are all very differently endowed.

Now I feel more like I am a piece of discarded refuse
in spite of my continuing contributions and activities;
a piece of rotting food on a pile of more rotting food
used only to fuel the vagaries of a few vultures and rats
who quarrel over the few remaining bits we comprise.

Politicians, bankers, generals, preachers and pirates
feeding their insatiable egos on the rotting remains of civility
and reasonable order, enjoying especially the mindless
scent of their misguided followers’ rantings and alms,
pushing them further into the greedy nirvana they crave.

How far will we have to rot here before we become choking
in our putrescence — how vile must we get to have an effect
that reflects the nature of our situation until it rightly gags
the devouring giants and hungrily-nibbling rats
toppling them into an abyss from which they again feed our growth.

Its probably just another example of the balance of everything
over time, repeating its rhythmic dance and my anxiety is nothing
but my part to be played in this tableau so here I am,
promoting being to the extreme, being to our limits and just a little
beyond since that is the essence of life — pushing and pulling.

Whoever you are, now is the time to act out, to hold no reins
and be a part of the life that surrounds us in this beautiful chaos.
Burn brightly from every orifice and do your part what ever it is:
devouring and becoming fatter yet or rotting and becoming putrid
enough to do the choking of those greedy bastards. Get up and dance!

making a mess

Wednesday, November 18th, 2009

Up in the morning and turn on the box
to see what the world is doing
and if anyone cares about my opinion
or what I myself am doing or at least
whether I’ve paid my due this time or not.

As usual mostly stuff
I don’t need or want
except for the blog of a former colleague
taking off on a sabbatical
to photograph National Parks in HDR.

Barry is a talented painter and a gifted teacher
who loves life and lives love
all in his own special way
some are put off by his boldness and candor
but it encloses a brilliant calm and warmth.

He mentions another colleague who
is losing a battle with cancer and
I wonder who that may be, as yet another falls.
This is something to get used to
as I approach my own autumn.

I feel like my words are such fumbling and yearn to express
the void that fills each day with wonder and bliss
as I move into each moment skipping and laughing
and making a mess of all that I touch.