Saturday, September 18, 2010

She knows what I don't

Flying blind over a continent of indifference
She maps the course.

She says
We can breathe there
She says
It's next to the ocean
She says

I don't ask which one

this is my strength
and my weakness

razor bloody brain
against contrary brickwall will
which leads to constant, consistent, frustrating pain
and then
almost always
to perennial pleasure

an electronic image on a previously blank screen assures my mind
that this is no ghost
no mirage
no phantom
no illusion

there must be this home because
there is this picture

there must be a path
for here is this map
got it?

there must be a way because
here is the destination

there is the target
we are the arrow
fly true

now pack your shit
get movin'

This is the easy part for me

I have less to hold onto
than to throw away
less to cling to
than to let go

let drift
little regret
no goodbye

We land
and take out the hammers,
and boxes.

Indeed a surging tidal wave of monotonous, symmetrical cardboard that mocks me,
taunts me
tests me
almost breaks me


this is the birth of home
the labor
the hours of pain
chasing after comfort

one day
sudden like a hiccup

we plop on the couch
stare blankly at TV
munch chips

the silence of night
intermittently interrupted by stray cars flashing by on the road
reminding us of the World
schedules and appointments

we look

the dream arrived

I turn off the noise

I fall into sleep to the sound of that great ocean crashing the land,
smashing and ripping in the inevitable gentle lift, grip, grab,
timeless cycle of infinity

which assures me I am small,
a speck
a blip
a vapor of insignificance projected wantonly into a void

and my time is short

as the heedless, tireless crickets do their work
playing into an wide open sea of stars and forever.

Friday, August 28, 2009

scorched earth policy

I should probably mention somewhere along the line that Naomi was from another country. I’d mention the country but then certain people just seem to get big ideas about everything. Suffice to say she was from about half-a-world and one ocean away and I suppose it’s fair to guess that while the fact of her foreign birth and upbringing may have contributed greatly to her uniqueness in her adopted land, everything about the way she moved through space said that she’d be a rebel anywhere and everywhere.

She was a honey dripping slow motion goddess who could shake her ass, a wild young hell raiser on a rampage, then pose with perfect grace and gravity for the adults; she could be calm as a cool summer wind then erupt like a busted fire hydrant. She adored old people and when she talked to kids she was one of them with no act.

Her voice coiled around you like a smooth snake, stroking, soothing and a trifle scary just like any wild thing, her words imperfect and too tempting in their imperfection. I don’t know where she learned English or if she learned it, maybe she was born with it already sleeping inside her and waiting for its time to bloom, as she was surely born into revealing the secrets of those blossoming thighs, her magic waiting to happen like flowers in spring or the sun coming up. No one could’ve taught something like that and no one could’ve learned it. You either had it or you didn’t and she had it to spare but kept it part of her mystery, like her language. If she had plotted and planned to speak the way she did it could not have been any better than the way the words actually left her lips; teasing you, enticing you, pulling at your heart and forcing you to lean into the heat of her body.

“Oh my baby…. My man…. It’s so sensational….. I love yours.”

That’s what she leaned into my ear and whispered as she reached for my dripping half hard cock and stroked it softly just as we’d finished off that morning after retrieving the bags. When she said it and stroked me I was loving mine too and I was loving hers more than that.

Her favorite word in English seemed to be,


Which she used often and rolled off her tongue lowly and slowly, the r’s tumbling into the l’s and the whole word sounding like one elusive seductive come-on command whose true meaning must surely be “Cut the chatter and come fuck me good.”
At least that’s what it sounded like to me.

“Damn! Baby I love the taste of you” pressing my mouth into her.

That’s what she’d say.

Anyway, she wasn’t from around here.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

R. I. P.

Senator Edward "Ted" Kennedy (1932-2009)

An imperfect Man in an imperfect World.
"The Lion of the Senate"
Born into enormous wealth and colossal tragedy he, despite whatever flaws he may have owned or failures he carried with him, dedicated his Life to helping his fellow Americans live better, safer, healthier and more productive lives and in great measure achieved these goals.
A true Champion of the People.

May He be in Heaven a half-hour before the Devil knows he's dead.

Sunday, August 9, 2009


"In my own country I am in a far-off land
I am strong but have no force or power
I win all yet remain a loser
At break of day I say goodnight
When I lie down I have a great fear
Of falling."

Francois Villion

"Hit 'em where they ain't."
Wee Willie Keeler (in answer to a query concerning his method of batting success in baseball)

I was reading a novel recently and the main character was considering a demonstration of one of life's more central scientific realities, that is to say entropy, the constant and unstoppable deterioration of all things physical.
He reviews the video example of the physicist Stephen Hawking who drops a teacup onto the floor whereupon, and of course, it instantly smashes to pieces. Hawking asks the viewer to consider that you can drop a teacup onto the floor perhaps an infinite number of times and it will always shatter but.....
You will never see the cup leap back up and reassemble itself. This is a keen example of his theory of entropy and an even keener example of my theory on this game we call life.

The clock is ticking and our time is short so lets not waste it waiting for the cup to come back together as we try most seriously not to drop anymore.

I live in a Nation that has the 2nd largest economy in the World despite its relatively small size. Wealth and prosperity are the norms here, there is plenty to eat, drink, smoke, fuck, drive, buy, see and lots of convenient ways to get there and see it.
If you walk these streets and observe I can guarantee that 2 out of 3 of the citizens you witness will have their cells attached to their faces and will be deeply engaged in animated cyber-communication (hereafter known as CyberCom*) at all times!
If you approach these people, make actual eye contact and attempt to actually speak to them they will be startled and absolutely stunned in shock, fear and disbelief at your very human presence, your unavoidable physical existence or perhaps your societal impertinence, one cannot know for certain.
This country also has the highest (by far) suicide rate of any industrialized nation on earth, teenagers and adults of all ages offing themselves with greater frequency and in greater numbers than ever before.

I could be wrong but sometimes I think the 2 may be connected somehow.

President Obama has been on the job awhile now. I think it's fair to give him a bit longer and see where this thing is going, but Man.....
Where is the money coming from?

I don't particularly worship God (any of 'em), Country, Family, Children or Money. I definitely do not see this as any sort of a strength, indeed on occasion I wish I could share these apparently satisfying opiates, but this simple faith deficiency (whether genetic or evolved I can't say although I have my theories) does seem to make it much easier for me to smile, laugh and see the Good as I stop and sniff those roses surrounding me.
So, I feel like being Human is an all around sweet deal on most days and I don't want to trade it for insurance, security, success or immortality, at least not yet. Although I would like a side order of immortality to go, please.
Which merely proves that I'm not only human but eternally juvenile as well.

Yesterday I was talking to a young girl, a friend, not attractive in any conventional sense, and in the middle of our conversation (and for the 1st time ever although I've known her for over a year) I quite suddenly glanced at her lips, her smile and my head rang like a bell-
I wonder what it would feel like to kiss her...I wonder how wonderful she must taste.....her lips look so lovely....maybe.......
And then I snapped back to reality.
Later we said goodbye and I am positive she had and has no clue as to my momentary lapse or illicit desire. As for me I harbor no intentions or designs on her body and was justly satisfied to wave goodbye that evening as her warm smile faded into the night.

I cannot explain how much this pleases me.

All for now...

Friday, May 22, 2009

scorched earth policy

First thing in my Naomi morning I grabbed the phone, called in sick at work and was goddamned glad to do it.

Then I took her to a breakfast place I hoped she might enjoy. I took her there because I was starving and I took her there because I didn’t want to let her go. I had bacon and eggs with potatoes on the side, everything good and hot. She ordered buckwheat banana pancakes. When the waitress set the plate down in front of her Naomi immediately smothered them in syrup and I never saw a girl eat pancakes or anything else the way she did; she ate like it was her last chance to do it on her last day on the planet.
Naomi didn't talk while she ate, I liked that. She’d pause for a smile and a,
“MMMMMMMMMM!” every now and again or maybe it was just to catch her breath, I didn’t know but she polished off her plate like she was shoveling coal into an engine before she looked at me and beamed. Orgasmic.

“Oh thank you Walter… Oooh how I loved that. It was perfect.”

Then she sipped her coffee and grinned at me wickedly over the rim of the cup. Something about her hunger made me want to drop to my knees, crawl under the table and bury my face between her wonderful thighs but I got busy with the fork instead and managed to stick to my eggs.

I noticed men sitting at tables near us cutting not-so-subtle glances in her direction, whether they were with women or not. I knew how they felt. If she noticed anybody watching her it was impossible to tell. She seemed oblivious to anything but me and her cup. Over the coffee I unreeled my best sales pitch ever and pretty quick we decided to pick up her bags from the Hostel and move them over to my apartment so she wouldn’t have to bother about paying for a place to stay. Neither one of us mentioned how long she’d be in town; I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want her to get any leaving ideas.

When I’d woke up next to her that morning and for the first time I felt like I was still in a dream, the star of a great movie, undisputed Champion of the World and as far away from the railroad as I’d ever been. I touched her everywhere to make sure she was real. When Naomi woke up smiling a happy little girl smile she showed me exactly how real she was. She slid her warm lips down my body, swallowed me whole and sucked me until I had to pull her mouth off. Forcefully. I had to do that because I needed her legs around me like I needed to breathe. As I drove my cock into her, her angel face was a portrait of pleasure and pain, lust and longing. When I sprayed my cum onto her she kissed me breathlessly and didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.
For now she would stay in my bed and that’s all I wanted her to think about, I didn’t want her to ever even begin to think of leaving me. I wanted her thinking about joining me. After our breakfast we rode back to the Hostel and when I watched her rock that tight little caramel ass into the doors to pick up her stuff I had plenty of good thoughts of my own, enough for both of us.
When she walked back out with her bags in her hands I never felt more proud of anything I’d ever accomplished in my entire life up until that day.
I jailbreaked it back to the apartment, hustled her through the door and threw those bags on the floor. Then I threw her onto the bed. She laughed and I dove in. That’s the way I wanted it. See?

Sunday, May 17, 2009

'Cuz it's Monday.....That's Why!

And yes I know that Johnny Cash's version is superior and say what you will but Reznor knocks this one out of the park.


Welcome to the Pain.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Interview with JC- Part II

AB: And we're back. So, Jesus..........the, where do I start?

JC: Bill, before we even begin to explore the....uh........mysteries........let me just state right up front that you have to remember that in a very, very different Time and Place in every sense of the word and we really have to bear that in mind as we go along and also, please try to keep the Big Picture as our main focus rather know........getting ourselves all bogged down over every tiny detail about who saw what and how many and, well................... you gotta remember we're talking about at least a couple thousand long years ago over here, you know sometimes even I'm a bit foggy as I look back.
I about a crazy time!

AB: I hear you. I can't remember what I did last weekend without looking at my schedule.

JC: That's all I'm saying.

AB: Check.

JC: Just to give you an idea of the craziness though, you wanna take a wild guess at the average life expectancy back then? The Romans calculated it....but then they were always good at that kind of stuff.
Crazy about statistics those people. Nutty for numbers.
Great little census takers they were.

AB: Hmmmm...... lemme see............45? 50?

JC: If you happened to be a Roman Senator maybe. (chuckles)
No, Billy it was 29 years young for men and if you were lucky enough to make it that far in the upright position you were officially an Elder Statesman and had to consider your life a splendid success. Anything after that was pure gravy, trust me, gravy.
If you weren't married by 12 you pretty much had to resign yourself to spinster exile or, you know, turn pro and from what I heard, neither option was any picnic and, suffice to say, there weren't any retirement plans back in those days, you were damn lucky to die on the job.
Times were tough!
Yep.....We didn't call it the Good News for nuthin'!
And Brother, there wasn't much of that around.

AB: Rough. But I did want to get to at least some of the Miracles today...

JC: (spreads his arms in welcoming gesture, smiles)

AB: For example, the famous “walking on water” incident. How or why or WOW!
Can you tell us about it?

JC: Absolutely. But let's just remember that this all started on a fishing trip.

AB: Oh, really? OK. Didn't know that.

JC: Been on many fishing trips, Billy?

AB: Actually no. I'm kind of a City Boy myself.

JC: Well, let me paint you a picture-
A bunch of men taking a little time off from the grind, no wives, no gf's, a couple of cases of wine, a good day on the water, peace, quiet, the whole schmear.

AB: I think I follow. Little drinking happening that day?

JC: Just a bit. Not too much fishin' tho'. (winks)

Well anyhow it looks like a lovely day, for once, and we're sailing along across the lake at our leisure when this black little storm starts making a move for us and so I decide, pretty wisely I thought, to call it a day.
Unfortunately, somebody, I forget who...think it was Peter.....always something with that guy....gets the bright idea to turn the boat back into the front, for kicks I guess, just as we're finally heading to the far shore somehow still in one piece.

Well long story short- He loses the sail, flips it in the waves and everybody's gotta swim for it....I had to make sure everyone was clear of the boat so I was the last one to make it in............Pete and the rest of the Guys gawkin' from the beach.
The next day when they got back home, sobered up a bit and had to have an explanation for no fish and losing the boat, and that was no small expense either, they, you know.......mentioned to about anyone who'd listen that they thought they may have seen me.......well..........walking on the waves.
Well, you know, we didn't have the internets but word got around.

AB: Walking?

JC: Bill lemme tell ya', the real thing was better than walking.
Brother I was flyin' through that water!
And that was some tall chop too, this wasn't no Olympic swimming pool with a surface like glass like nowadays. I tell ya' that Michael Phelps kid couldn't of kept up with me that day!
Yea buddy, I was a heck of an athlete back then....heckava good little athlete........and you should've seen me wrestle!
Coulda' went to the Coliseum and cleaned up. Betcha' didn't know that. (sighs)

Good Ole Pete, you hadda' love him but sometimes...................Oi!
You just wanted to give him a swift kick, you know?

AB: Got it.
Howabout the “feeding of the multitudes” events? 5,000 and 4,000 fed with just a handful of loaves and a fistful of fish. Care to share?

JC: Yea.......well, first of all you have to sort of keep an open mind about that multitudes figure.
I mean, who was counting? Hey, we weren't selling tickets!
We were giving it away!
Six of one, half a dozen of the other.
And this word, “multitude”? What's a multitude?
No direct translation in the original Hebrew. That's a fact.
Multitude, schmultitude I was a lot of good people is what it was.

AB: Gotcha.

JC: But this was a great story. And great, great crowds too!

Next- Part III