It Pays The Bills

I want you to know

the light is on

where I reside

it is not dark

I do not hide

I abide my own rules

no demons to wrestle

no desires gone cold

bright enough to see to write

Whatever I am told

By voices  that come calling

To images that unfold

Eloquent moans from the inderground

Or Feeble musing by the less profound

Vaporous visages

Visiting

Knocking on a noggin

Maybe slow to open

But open just the same

It’s me

The shadow on your window shade

From the light cast by yellow vapor lamps on the blvd

There’s a lot of things a man should regret

Most I’d say is what he’s done to man

How barbarous They are

....okay, we...

...how cruel

and hurtful

and blind

To atrocity

But there are those

Might call it damn-lilly-squat-soft-thought

Or just plain

Victimism.

It’s the cruel view

The world in chaos

Carnivorous calamity

carnal culmination

Cravings

Ravings

Crude Carvings

Crass graffitti

Cave Paintings

Catastrophism

It’s me. I’m not here to cause you trouble

I just go where I’m told

...or land...by accident.

So, relax.

I can drift on down

That way...

follow the lights...

like I was never here

You never saw me,

never heard me through the door

The door you never answered

As I slipped by

I Hushed a whisper

‘The secret to the Secret,

And all the fruit it bore...’

But that whisper went unnoticed

Or was it sadly, just...Ignored ??

Damn man.
You came so close.

So slow to open

your mind.

There’s this guy down the street

Right around the corner

Going to pay him a visit

Much the same as you

Maybe this time he’ll listen

See, I’m his muse, too.

It pays the bills

And the bills are due.

TAKE ME HOME

Mary:  Have you seen how many pills Dad takes? My god!

Cara: The neighbor found him the other night. Weeping on the corner. Didn’t know where to turn.

M: How'd he get out there? My god! Who, Hal?

C: (shakes head) Hobart...

M: Shit.

C: Is he alright? ...Dad? Dad alright?

M: ...wiid swings, Hard to tell what's him or the meds talkin’. He swings hard in every direction...he called me a bitch whore cunt last week. that all I wanted was his money...stealing his life... and I was a disgrace to the family name. I cried for a day...maybe two...that one dug deep. But the nurses love him...just the sweetest old man....

C: Playing his fucking games again...

M: Always.

C: Should we get them all reviewed? Interactions or combinations? Side effects...

M: Yeah..again? Then what? Another round of something new that makes it worse and gives him grief. He's got enough going on. We've been through this enough...

C: What if we take him off?...Entirely?

M: He asked me that the other day. Woke up from his nap , his head still on the pillow, like it came to him in his sleep, he asked me straight out 'what if I stop the pills? Will I be in pain?'

C: I've seen him. He winds up tight like a ball of ropes, curled up inside himself clutching on to who-knows-what? Just tight stringy muscles, like ropes  wrapped around sticks, tightly bundled. Is he eating?

M: No. Some days he's ravenous, but, in general, no.  His day nurse...

C: Diane?

M: Yes.

C: I like her.

M: Me too. She asked if anyone has told him he can 'let go, now'? I told her that I've told Dad dozens of times - 'if i could end this for you, I would'. He was hurting and begging to go. I think he's afraid. I'm not going to judge him...

C: Says he wants to go see Mom...his 'dear wife'... that's what he calls Her to the nurses...what bullshit.

M: I know. But they had some good years in there...

C: Poor Ma. She didn't know.

M: Poor Mom. That fucking disease...

C: Should we take him off? ... Hospice?

M: I think we should have that talk.

C: With him? You think...?

M: I'd say, in the morning...when he's clear. He drifts out after lunch, and is a bastard at night.

C:Same pattern as last time.

M: Only worse. Less coherent. More angry. He can't tell 'sleep' from 'awake' so his anger carries over...

C: He said "this isn't the way it's supposed to be...".
 I said '...god doesn't let us make plans..." He calls me a smartass cunt bitch whore.

M: (ugh)...he's so fucking hurtful

C: He says 'If My Mother could see me now...she'd take me straight home!'

M: Momma's boy. Scared little Mama's boy.

C: Mean ass bully

M: ...and a mean ass bully,

Somewhere along the line, something got damaged. It was all rearranged....all deranged...wrong, yet erased from memory, just the same. In the grave before life's passing, a sad and lonely witness, to his own declining stage and ultimate demise.

RISK IT ALL

There’s a blank page

Had to be when this all started

But look’it here

The blood on the page up here…

See it?

…In the corners?

A spray? A spatter?

I suspect it starts there

From the outside

Then works it’s way in

First a papercut

Perhaps, a bit of a nick

Drip. Drip…drop, by drop

You start to flow,

grows Outa control

and the next thing you know

you got guts on the page

and your heart

splatters dead center

still pumpin’

...and we just started talkin’ 
now the Real work begins

You start squeezing, smearing, and smashing

Squashing. Splaying. Splutters …

splurts like farts
no time to wonder

The madness all that matters.

Oh, man, you can thrash around

But the most you can muster
No matter how profound 

Is killing yourself…You know that, man?

And for what?

Some schlock hustler?

Be they Small scale, big time, or huge

They'll just cook you up 
and let you stew

Eat you up

Pick your bones

Cast your carcass to the crows…

Yet you’d die for the chance.

So You do.