Friday, March 9, 2007

Flower Power

Had a religious awakening in college years ago
I learned to take the sacrament, exhaling slow
and my mind opened like a blooming X-man power
and ideas shared with a friend over the course of an hour
could turn talk to action, an unusual beer bottle
into a legendary bong that for years friends it would throttle



The deceptively powerful Mississippi Mud
instrument of sacrifice for your bud
It was almost as if the Mud could hear us
and if it felt disrespected it wouldn't cuss
wouldn't shout, just knock motherfuckers out
and the ideas would soon downpour away doubt

It began as a plain white bowl-lamp on a drab ceiling
but the Mud bespoke, commanding a painting
and like Michelangelo worked on the Sistine Chapel
the flower project was then but an unbit apple


and we kept expanding the flower, it flowed over the walls
it changed the room dimensions, it required some balls
concentrating in the Mile High August heat of summer
my buddy passed out on his feet, but the room's a stunner




And at the end we were so filled by the Mud's thankful glee
that we desecrated the innocent image of Chef Boyardee
it' s funny still, and if you look closely at his hat
you will see the name of who made us do that

Sunday, March 4, 2007

BLOWOUT BOY

My hais is so big,
big as a Christmas Tree,
without ornamental balls.
Screws up my balance.
Like a piano on my head.
I hear will will still grow
when I am dead.
Haircuts don't work.
Hair gel pisses it off.
So I don't try to fight it
all that much.
'Cause my hair is so big,
it has a mind of its own.
Just like Siamese Twins,
I'll never be alone.
And on time it said, quite angrily I might add,
"Put down that comb!"
When I go on dates,
it scoffs on my chick.
When I eat out,
it orders my food.
When I watch TV,
it scratches my...knee.
My hair is as big as the twin towers.
And if you should know,
yes, it has super powers.
'Cause my hair is so big.
It has a mind of its own.
Faster than a train,
stronger than Stallone.
Never to be separated.
Like a dog and his bone.
But one day things got hairy.
And my blowout and I weren't working out.
You see my hair was housing an Irish man
and his family.
And people at work were starting to talk,
And work was going to ask me to take a walk.
But since then me and my hair
worked out the glitches.
And now thngs are back to the way they were.
'Cause my hair is so big,
together we are so big, tough and bad.
And things got shady,
that we forgot what we had.
And my hair might have gotten
my employer really, really mad.
But today that doesn't matter.
'Cause big old Blowout and I are
very, very glad.
SGM 12.12.1998

Thursday, March 1, 2007

Along the Breaking, Lapping Edge of Los Angeles


I walked with friends along Venice Beach at 1 am
Along the breaking, lapping edge of Los Angeles
In the sliding traction of soft sand

I stood
Small
Before the voluminous expanse of the Pacific
Under the night's legion of purple-undersided, ocean-rolling storm clouds
Caught in the soft power
That has compelled humans for thousands of years
To stare contemplatively over bodies of water

Mumbling metaphors excitedly
To a steely blue-eyed blond beside me
Her hair straight and long, wispy down between her shoulders
Her demeanor was softer than I had ever seen it
Perhaps melted by the magnificence manifesting before us
The force of the ocean, indifferent to my moment of spiritual consequence

I thought of the life that paddled in it

Out there, under there, somewhere
Things transparent
Luminescent
Gelatinous

Sharks dart
Frenzy below the whitecaps' constant coming advance
Then retreat, advance then retreat
Barracuda backs sure to gleam with the dawn hours away

We wait, safe on the shore, sneakers half-sunk in sand
While the planet spins
Racing to rise the sun from an indistinguishable horizon

Hunks of washed up, soggy kelp
Lie along the miles of beach
Like dead litter a passed over battlefield

Distant silhouettes of friends
Before a rocky outcrop, their conversing carried softly on the light, cool ocean breeze
A skylight searches the low-hanging atmosphere
As a distantly spaced line of helicopters fly straight in
Headlights popping from the Neverness of the Pacific sky
The silhouettes of street-side palm trees stand black and tall
Cutting sharp shapes into the backdrop of the purple, city-hovering cloud cover