POEMS


Baby Man

Way down deep in the cave…away from the light, that’s where I dwell…
My heart is a warehouse of Brokenness…
Vast Emptiness filled with Nothingness…
Loneliness is such a drag…just like Jimi said…
But a couple a’ rails later, I hear my train a commin…
Addiction’s a bitch when you know you’re hooked, even worse if you’re in denial
And trust me you, I vote in all the Egyptian elections

I’m distracted by brain synapses…
Neutrons firing thin and uneven, the baleen of my brain genetically miss-configured…
Endorphins and Dopamine out of whack…
Panic in the Year Zero out of whack…
Ray Milland in a runaway car in the Mojave desert out of whack…
Someone falsely yelling fire in a movie house out of whack…
Sooner or later…rubber worn from my rims…metal on pavement whining...sparks flying…halt wont be screeching but imploding out of whack….

I need to sink low, Death Valley of the Dolls low, just to stay high, hiding out in the vaporous cocaine, heroin and barbiturate cirrus…only there I feel safe, numb, faint, barely breathing…
No 9 to 5, no atomic family, no apple pie, no red, white and blue, no world series or super bowl…no Boston Pops…Just inner Armageddon….Masked by opiate diversion…synthetic or organic…it don’t mater…
Just sterilize my nerves, shut down my head, lobotomize my heart, and give me a soul vasectomy…

Whatever goes up…must come down haunts me…who the fuck hired Galileo anyway…

I don’t know why I’m crazy…Flash Dance crazy, Running as fast as I can crazy…Everyone you meet is dancing in the streets crazy…fucking Mardis Gras, Carnival crazy…but every day, all day, all year round…seldom a wink, only maybe here or there do I sleep…

I can’t sleep…the authorities don’t sleep; they work around the clock…And if I do, I may dream…I cant do that…I need to hide from my subconscious…and my other enemies…
I need to hide from the repo man, the 6am newspaper being flung, and hitting my neighbors stoop man…scores of Mr. Coffees brewing get up and go man, sinister bacon frying in blackened iron skillets, sizzling, popping, pork frying stink man…patent leather shoes walking down the courtyard, loafers with tassels, wing tips, shinned and tied, footsteps marching in industrial cadence, purposeful tempo, keys jingling, internal combustion igniting man…

I’m scared of my shadow in the morning light...I loathe the leaf blower man, the mail man, the telephone man, the gas meter man, the MAN MAN…
I’m a 28 year old baby man…like the child separated form his mother at the Fairfax and Wilshire May Company man…I’m a where’s my mommy man? in a adult world…my diapers are soiled…my blankie worn out, my bedding needs to be stripped…I’ve been hiding under the covers forever man…

I’m not awake and don’t know it….the white cloud of free base is so thick, the poppy juice so strong, the Pineapple Crush so sweet…the everything burrito I just puked up doesn’t even matter…I just know I hate daylight…it’s so loud and annoying, it browbeats and nags….it makes shadows…my shadow, which makes me tremble and convulse….I just want deep, ebony subterranean darkness….please let me stay in the cave…