Alive in the house of the monkey king
whilst the trumpets moan
and a buffet is set before me
whilst virgins tend to my needs
and menservants satisfy my whims
I can no longer exist in the real world
the world of the mundane
the world of man
of lies
of arrogance
the world of torture
and deceit
in that world
I am death
I am sorrow
with a deafened ear
and blunted brow
with a blinded eye
and blighted mind
with a callous spirit
infected with compliance
diseased with complacency
in that world I am death
a douser of flame
a destroyer of light
in that world I am
death
but I shall always remain
alive
in the house of the monkey king

[BACK TO TOP]

I thought about changing
the style of man that I am.
I thought of
discarding
the oil stained,
faded
blue jeans,
the t-shirts
and socks with holes,
the cracked and worn
cowboy boots.
I thought about cutting my hair
short,
throwing away the bandana
used to keep my hair
out of my mouth,
out of my eyes,
when engaged in activity.
I thought about
changing
the style of man that I am.

I thought about
quitting:
smoking,
drinking,
drugs - (of any federally unapproved sort.)
Yes, I thought about
quitting.
I thought about
changing
the style of man that I am.

I thought about
buying some loose fitting
white pants,
sandals,
a tasteful,
slightly oversized
tropical shirt,
that I would wear unbuttoned
over a newly washed,
neatly pressed
t-shirt
of some sickening pastel hue.
I thought about shaving regularly
and purchasing a genuine,
imitation,
panama hat.
I thought about
changing
the style of man that I am.

Then I thought:
Wow!
The world
almost got to me there
for a second.

[BACK TO TOP]

The government
recently forced
a couple of
radio shows
off of the air
because they
were guilty of
expressing
opinions
that were
'offensive'
to some.

I have to be careful
that what I write in
this poem isn’t
'offensive'
to certain groups of
people
or else I may be
imprisoned.

and so on…
and so on…
and so on…

Well,
fuck you all!

I’m about to just give up.

I remember when this used
to be
Canada

[BACK TO TOP]

We called it that,
because we used to buy
It from a friend of ours
who worked the
night shift
as a baker
in a huge bakery
that made nothing but
bagels. - (the real kind)
This place ran twenty-four-seven,
doing nothing but pumping out bagels
to supply just about every
grocery store and deli in the city
with fresh
bagels.

So, it became kind of a code word,
“Lets go get some 'bagels'!”
someone would say.
And, we’d head off to the bakery,
usually in the wee small hours
of the morning,
since our friend only worked
there from 10 p.m. until 6 a.m.

He always had the best 'bagels'
in the city.
They used to cost us
between seven and ten dollars each,
depending how the market was
in any particular week.
Other people in the city were paying
between ten to fifteen dollars
for 'bagels' of much, much
lower quality.

Later on,
I got a job at that same bakery,
during the same shift,
but our friend didn’t work there
anymore.
In fact,
I found out afterwards,
that I actually got his job.

I was high on cocaine when
I went in for the interview
for that job.
Really high.
But,
I got the job.
I’m not sure if they
didn’t notice
that I was high,
or, they just didn’t care.
Strange types
work the graveyard shift
in bakeries.
I don’t know what it is about
the graveyard shift
at a bakery,
but it seems to attract
strange types.

When I worked there
our friend was gone
and I didn’t sell ‘bagels,’
but, that was over fifteen years ago
and a few of us still refer to them as
‘bagels’

We always know just what
we mean.

[BACK TO TOP]

Bukowski ate my liver!
I would never have believed it,
if I were not right there
when it happened.
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
His hand leapt at me
from out of the page.
He reached right in
to my abdomen,
clutched the
rancid organ in
his despair soaked fist,
dripping tiny droplets
of sickly-sweet despondency,
and shoved the
odious thing straight into
his mouth!

He chewed for a bit,
then stopped,
paused for a moment,
and then,
wiping some of the
blood and bile
from off his chin,
he sneered
and glared at me
with portentous eyes
that resembled
mine
more than his,
and said:

“Do you know why I did that? ”

“No! ” I replied, “Why? ”

“For no damned good reason whatsoever! Get it? ”

“Yeah, Buk.” I said, “I think I do....”

“...Now, get the hell out of here
so I can finish your book,
and tend to this wound.”

[BACK TO TOP]

0
1
1
2
3
5
8
13
21
34
55
89
144
233
377
610
987
1,597
2,584
4,181
6,765
10,946

And so on… into infinity.

[BACK TO TOP]

I am yes, and you are no,
and between the two, we both might show,
how man can dream his dream so well,
and find the magic within the spell.

For if you’re dark, or if you’re light,
we’ve all been blessed with gifts of sight.
And though some appear as if not to see,
the affliction is naught but temporary.

So faith must be the chosen chore,
If error is to exist no more.
Heed these words and you will find,
the prize awaits the dreaming mind.

[BACK TO TOP]

“The Germans, or rather the Nazis, screwed the Jews. So what? Also, the Nazis made good beer, had smart uniforms, and were proud of their politics. I wish Hitler was around, cos I respect strong leadership and action.”

“You muslims, your time is up we won't stand for your crap any longer. The streets will run red with the blood of you all. You deserve it every last fucking one of you.”

“As friendly as the islamic religion is supposed to be, I find myself hating all muslims. All I see is one sand nigger cheering for a democracy, and the next minute see them cheering for a dead spy/conspirator/american... These fucks are so confused about who they are and what they want, it's pitiful. The best cure would be two or three minuteman missiles releasing each of their warheads on the most populated cities of the middle east. Europe always needed a vast parking lot. That would solve alot of Northern europes problems..”

“Isn't Mecca the whole basis of islam? A rock? Why don't the US just bomb that stupid rock - and destroy the religion.”

And on it goes….

How lost we have become.
Or, perhaps, may always have been.
How deserving of our natural deaths.
Surely this is the reason we must die.
Eons of human history,
countless lessons,
and still, we fail to learn.

Still we fail,
still we fail.

Anger, hatred, ignorance, contempt:
burdensome stones we seem
unable to shed.

Still we fail,
still we fail.

And on it goes...

[BACK TO TOP]

be it formed by design or accident,

it is a marvel indeed.
A wondrous place of immaculate mystery.

Encoded, in some bizarre fashion,
with an enigmatic blueprint, - a design
of rough, disheveled perfection.

Encoded in a fashion that we
can not ever hope to fully comprehend.
Though we may read its verse,
over and over, the full pattern of its poetry
may very well elude us for eternity.

I stand in awe before the concepts of its being,
I gaze in awe within its religion of oblivion,
I envy both its limitless unconcern,
and its boundless compassion.
For, within every particle of its mass and
all the empty space of its vacuum: this is where God lives.
And, I, a part of it all, am ever small before its greatness.
All is divinity.

It is the eternal wellspring of all things;
the infinite reservoir of all that is knowable.
All bad, and good, all evil, and righteous.
It is the Alpha and the Omega.
The womb and the grave.
And so, the cycle passes midpoint;
a small void between the lines of information.
And, it once again turns back in on itself.
A countdown,
back toward the beginning, commences,
to repeat the process once more.
And on it shall ever go, ever on – ever on -
for all that is time.

All is divinity,
all is beauty and all is ugliness,
and God truly lives unbound
both within and without its infinite,
un-existing borders.
It is truth and lies,
reality and fantasy,
life, death and oblivion.

The code is known,
but unbroken, incomplete.
It shall never be fully known,
despite our relentless studying of its verse,
our tireless reading of its poetry – over and over again.

A story without form,
the greatest story, the only story,
ever repeating, throughout all that is time.

Order and chaos,
a birth into entropy.

Be it by design or accident,

one must wonder at the beauty of the universe.

[BACK TO TOP]

I wondered secretly: “had this poor man,
his throat wide open and spilling his blood
across the accursed and unhallowed floor,
truly lived his life by the sword - or was -
this just another example of our
impious thirst for erroneous law?

[BACK TO TOP]

Many people tell me
that my poetry
is awful,
and,
for the life of me,
I can’t decide if they
are right,
or just stupid.

[BACK TO TOP]

And, right now
in the world,
under that same moon
shining through different clouds,
people are cowering in fear.
In parts of the world,
people are sick, and dying,
people are being murdered,
tortured,
people are mourning
and crying over their losses.

And I sit here, in this room,
typing,
in cogitation,
with food,
with drink.
My most pressing current concern
is that a cold October draft
is forcing its way through my window.

I reach to make sure my window is fully closed;
a full moon beams its light into my room
along with that cold October daft,

and I notice:

Strange shapes can be seen
when the full moon shines through the clouds.

[BACK TO TOP]

The city is short today
and it can’t be anymore
than just a few blocks wide today
and the city is grey today,
grey and cold
and the city is short today.
The skyscrapers,
only a few inches tall now,
sway back and forth,
caught in the grasp of a
sharp, cutting wind.
The sky scrapers rankle me today
and the city is short today
and the people walk about today
like zombies,
tiny zombies,
their faces and clothes
lack any colour,
and they resemble ants.
They wait on the street corner,
waiting for a miniscule bus
to take them out of this
tiny city
and the city is short today,
and grey
and cold
and small,
so very small
and yet, it towers over me.

[BACK TO TOP]

I fucked you hard that night.
Do you remember?
Blasted out of our minds on L.S.D.
and I just kept on going and going
and you lay there motionless
and your face was contorted
and your eyes were closed
and I just kept going.
Do you remember?
And I was numb
and I felt nothing
but I just kept on fucking you,
and fucking you.
Do you remember?
and I didn’t know if you were enjoying it
or hating it
and I didn’t really care
and I felt nothing
but I just kept fucking you
because that was the motion that took me
and that was the motion that I was in
and I felt no desire for change,
so I just kept going,
And then I looked down at you
and fear and disgust overwhelmed me
and I became worried
and I became perplexed
because all at once,
suddenly,
you were familiar.

[BACK TO TOP]

There once was a man who
owned a small ferret named:
“Purgation.”
The interesting thing was that
the ferret was a talking ferret.
But, at least six times a day,
it would start a sentence with:

“Have you ever done that where….”

This got to be rather tiresome, and more than
a little annoying after awhile.
So, the man had to shoot the ferret through the eye.
The ferret survived, but it never spoke again.
From then on, it would just sit in the corner
plotting its revenge.
Unfortunately, a short while later,
the ferret died of a massive coronary,
before it could put its plans into action.

Sad, really.

[BACK TO TOP]

A vile and loathsome sow I have become,
a hellish fiend drenched in disquietude.
I have become a grim, pernicious blight,
an icon of well deserved abhorrence.
Yet upon my head sits a shining crown,
for now am I also, desolation.

[BACK TO TOP]

My head is spinning,
I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Four years ago,
when you weren’t sure
what he would do,
or how exactly he would act,
you didn’t vote for him.
But,
now,
after four years,
of witnessing his shit,
you went and did it;
you went and voted for him.

You know that he lied
in order to take
your country to war.
And yet,
You voted for him.
You know that he has
killed thousands of people.
And yet,
you voted for him.
You know that he’s a moron
who can’t speak properly.
And still,
you voted for him.
You know that he has stripped you
of many of your freedoms.
And yet,
you voted for him.
You know that he has
all but destroyed any respect
that your country had
enjoyed throughout most
of the civilized world.
And still,
you voted for him.
You know that he has done more
to move your country toward tyranny
and fascism than any other leader
in your history.
And yet,
you voted for him.

You know all of this.
And still,
You voted for him,
The grandson of a Nazi;
you voted for him.

Because you are frightened little children.
Because you are blind.
Because you are sheep,
fearing the slaughter.
Because your gods are ignorance
and loathing.

Now, off to bed with you!

[BACK TO TOP]

There is nothing more devastating
than a longing for ignorance.

[BACK TO TOP]

Men of great confidence
are men
who make their abodes
within the borders
of the world of people
and never dare to
venture outside
of its boundaries.

Those who live in the greater world,
the world outside of people,
the world which stretches beyond
the limits of the peopled world
are never
confident.
They are fragile and frail.
They shake with awe and fear.
They are frozen by wonder.
And they tremble at the awesome vistas
which lie outside of their windows.
They tremble.
They shake.
For their living space
requires such a nature.

[BACK TO TOP]

A cardinal,
on this cold, yet bright
autumn morning
rests on a birch branch
outside of my window.
I pause from my work
to watch it and
breathe in
the magnificence
of it’s colour.
A smile overtakes me.
The cardinal
has brought for me a message
on this day.
He tells me,
in no uncertain terms,
that
life
is beautiful.

[BACK TO TOP]

But, some of us
sit on the outside of the pen
and watch with both glee and concern
as these proud cockerels
peck and scratch at each other.
We amuse ourselves with their antics,
because we see not only the
fight,
but also the rotten wooden ceiling,
covering them,
which not only blocks their view
of the magnificent, powder blue
skys above,
but which they are not even aware
is hovering over their very heads.

How amusing is this,
this quintessence of folly?
This fight.
This dance.
How amusing is this?

[BACK TO TOP]

People used to be famous
for a reason
People used to become famous
because they were unique
in some way,
because they had something to
offer us,
to teach us,
they were artists, or scientists
or craftsmen, or teachers
of singular talent

not any more

He who strives for fame
is a fool,
an idiot,
a cancer
Shun him
cast his diseased mind
out of our society
so that he wont infect the rest
with his malignancy

Fuck the famous
they will make a good
food supply
when the need arises

[BACK TO TOP]