I need more time to fuck off
fuck around
kill time
day dream
fantasize
reminisce about the good old days
reconstruct my history
write
paint
sleep
make a list of all my friends
who have died
look in the mirror and come
to terms with who I've become
make a list of all my friends
who haven't died
decide whether to go to
the 60th high school reunion
try to figure out why I still
feel like I'm in 7th grade
The Next Chapter
Who knows
the next chapter could be the last
the next chapter could end
before it begins
all I know is I'm approaching it
under the law of
everything changes
I'm growing weary of giving therapy
of giving instruction
of trying to present things in a new light
I growing weary of trying to save lives
I'm growing weary of getting up at 6 AM
of driving 40 minutes
to the place of lockdowns
I'm growing weary of walking
I'm growing weary of talking
I'm not growing weary of writing
I wonder if the magic of painting
will ever return
my legs don't move like they use to
so I don't know if I can dance any more
I wonder if I ever do have
one last fist fight - will it kill me
probably should have had it 15 years ago
don't know if my adrenaline
is working like it used to
don't know how much longer
my sex drive can come out of the corner
and answer the bell
I can see the excitement waning
I can feel the excitement waning
but I can also feel one last fight
rising in me whatever form it takes
Good news:
I'm not depressed
anymore.
Better news:
I've moved on.
Now I'm suicidal.
I'm the most flawed
son of a bitch
ever birthed
on to this planet.
And I'm just fucking
great with that.
For real !
Sliding Board
I took an extended trip
down the surface
of a never ending sliding board
took me straight through
the great emerald curtain
of the great emerald
paradise of Oz
the con artist real estate agent
calling the shots
selling placebo vitamin supplements
to all the suckers who went to the boardwalk on vacation
he offered mescaline
he offered benzedrine
he offered white powder
black powder crystal meth
went further down the sliding board to the tollbooth
the gruesome gatekeeper of hell wanted my essence
that's the deal-that deal or no fucking deal at all
Street Theater
Street Theater is alive and well
in San Juan Puerto Rico
above the sunken ships just
beneath the surface off shore
in doorways on sidewalks
in and out of corner stores
the drama is real and morose
the painted faces menacing
in their angled mouths & deep
sunken eyes wrapped in black
cloaks the characters threaten
death in all of its disguises
heroin has settled in on beaches
in flop houses on downtown streets
prostitutes do doubled shifts
in the miniskirt & platform
shoe uniform of their trade
Tropical Paradise
Here I am In a tropical paradise
an ocean where
you can clearly see
from surface to bottom
cocoanut trees
beach lounges
a hotel with 4 stars
6 restaurants
there are rain forests here
colonial fortresses
surrounding the island
and old San Juan
the traditional tourist trap
and what peaks my interest
an abandoned hotel and a
sexy housekeeper in the hall
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