March 1, 2009

The Neighborhood

The revolution started because of a
polar bear costume rented by a Dog who
believed the rebirth of our nation was
held in the hands of a stripper standing in a hurricane
naked and knee deep in Jell-o pudding snacks
falling off the truck of love into the shallow pool
of self-loathing.

This was when the wolves were quiet and Dog’s howled
for a drink that quenches heartache and loneliness
while standing on a broken bar stools
made of kicked wood/cracked leather/worn steel nails,
all this Dog could do to keep from crazy
was to wash his thoughts like the Chinese man washes
his sidewalk.

He purchased an electric leaf blower
for his San Francisco front yard that only needs a rake,
his neighbor bought 25 horsepower lawn mower,
so he ran back to womb of consumerism to buy himself
the biggest most bad ass bitch’n machine
a ride on lawn mower… that he must drive in the streetto
turn around.

That Dog ran under the wheels of a truck,
loaded college students bound for Tijuana
didn’t realize he was committing suicide,
he knew the shinny glass across the street
filled with a cool liquor on a hot desert day
would probably rot his liver but was worth
every risk.

The drunk dog who followed the Marke
holding glasses of scotch/vodka/gin
was buried in a cemetery who advertised
on a stray newspaper at the back of the 38.
The coupon read: Buy one plot get another plot
free (of equal or lesser value) and She decided
to do it.

The girl cried when she found her Dog’s grave
and then the hurricane started ripping through houses,
frightening the neighbor with the lawnmower,
making children question what they do not know
because their innocence is a weather balloon
waiting for the turbine of a jet engine to suck it in,
spiting out confetti to rain down on the masses,
who have not seen innocence since they themselves
were children.

October, San Francisco

I stepped outside my mind,

And found it was sunny

The Gap Between Them & Me

A chubby lawyer walking on market street – (his home) 6 months
= Crazy Charlie on the 28 + the stench of rotting sewer rats – any concept of reality.

A single mother of 3 – the tip you did not leave + credit card bills
= (old tattered Safeway bags + compost bins near resturants) facade of not starving.

[(Track marks) everywhere at Eddy/ Hyde] urinating on yourself
= (dockworkers + a recession) no other options.

Ethnic studies professor – tenure + budget cuts
= waking up to a beautiful sunrise in her car.

Student – a job at Starbucks – a job at McDonalds – a job at Modern Times – a job.
= Golden Gate Park (sleeping bag) + a half fifth of burbon.

American Dehydration

This is a declaration
of my dedication
to the frivolous desecration
and ardent elimination
of America’s corporations.

This is NOT a celebration,
more like unholy recreation
or spiritual constipation,
it’s only relieved
by dedication
to self-annihilation,
through chronic masturbation,
as to fill this nation
with my pro-creation.

I have an exclamation
it is my explanation
for this exploration,
without filtration,
of my frustration
and without hesitation…

Wake Up America!

You shun immigration
and impose limitations
so you can imprison migration
cause alienation
and reject cooperation.

You underfund imagination
and education
prohibiting graduation
to dumb the population
and the only salvation
is the almighty dollar.

In times like these
times like these America,
when there is no solution
only substitution after
substitution after
and disgusting pollution;
the only resolution
to gain restitution
is revolution.

And to my generation,
stand on this foundation
wake from apathetic hibernation,
end procrastination
and stop the humiliation
of operation


Stop the investigation
into our meditation
with recreational medication
that just might cause hallucination
and no we don’t have our registration
and fuck your regulation
we need no validation
for our minds illumination.

We have attained the information;
We understand the navigation;
We have no limitations.