IT’S A FUCKING FOUL WORLD

AND I’M IN A FUCKIN FOUL MOOD

GODDAM NEWSHOUR AT BREAKFAST

MAKES ME WANT TO HURL

GO BACK TO BED

IF I HAD A PLACE TO LIE MY LICEY HEAD

IF I HAD SOMETHING TO EAT

IF IT DIDN’T HURT

SOME DAY JUST NO REASON TO WAIT

STEW SLOW SIMMERS IN MY OWN HATE

FOOLS STRIKING EACH OTHER ON TV

THINK I’ LL TAKE MINE ON OUT TO THE STREET

BUST ME SOME PORKCHOP COPSLOP CHOPSHOPSUEY

BRING SOME MEAN MOTHER SONS TO THEIR KNEES

IF YOU AIN’T GONNA SHOOT ME

THEN FUCKIN SUE ME

Is that what you want to hear? Crap…it’s all crap. Some of that crazed and nasty loathing? I’m full of that. Fuck you people! You know what I mean? I ain’t some ugly puppet you wave around to scare the fright-or-flight folks. I ain’t some monkey on a chain like some pit dog muthafuck.

Today I got my rile up and it’s just not goin’ down so ez.

- TANK

Saturday

Discipline is not something that came readily to Leland. Self Disciple was easy enough for him to avoid, but Imposed Disciple really pissed him off. It got his juices flowing again, like a valve stem blowing out…got his anger up, and that was not only not good, it could prove to be very destructive. Explosive.

“If you hang up on me I will…”

“You will do nothing but harm to yourself.”

“You know me that well you think.”

“I know the sight of your fist in face. I know the feel of bone shattering. I know the pain and disfigurement.”

“What disfigurement?”

“You forget what my nose looked like we first met? Go back and look at the bumper-car pictures if you still got one.”

“I…”

“You tore them up in a fit of fury, didn’t you?”

“Burnt them up…used them to start the trailer.”

“Well, there you go. Now you are stupid and homeless. Not an unrare combination, I suppose.”

“Do you have someplace?”

“I have a very good place, which you will never see.”

“Wasn’t asking for that reason. Just wanted to be sure we did not share the same fate. It’s humbling.”

“Something you never got around to before. How’s that feeling?”

“Pisses me off.”

“Then you have not yet been properly humbled. Wait ‘til you give up the fight – that’s humble. But enjoy the taste. It only gets more bitter, and a taste I’m tasting right now.”

“So you still hating me?”

“ No, more like stomach acid…”

“Emotions have nothing to do with it?”

“Not a thing. And no pill to put it to rest.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Makes no difference.”

“You have a good day tomorrow.”

“If I don’t die.”

RU

My Devils...my Angel

Where are you now?

I am somewhere outside Oklahoma. You will not find me.

I know many a local operator. I can find your call…

I am sure you do. But When you do I will be farther gone.

How far?

I might be right under your nose, but you won’t know it.

I suspect you are in Arkansas. Somewhere near the border and figure you are just out of reach. Just look over your shoulder. That man at the bar…the one filling his gas tank…the guy having ham and eggs? They all work for me. Against you. Cause you don’t know, and you will never know.

Beats looking at you each and every day. I’ll take my chances with occasional strangers, against that guarantee.

                 "WHORECUNTBITCH….!!!!!

    

                                 ….ASSHOLE !!!!!

                                       ....LITTLEPRICKMOTHERFUCKER!!!

(so....)

You doin okay out there?

Fuck you. You crazy psychotic!

I think you might be overstating your case, here…

My case is with me, and I am gone.

Yes. But I still have room for two.

Then fill it with my absence.

You draw a very fine line.

Meaning?

You make it difficult to love you.

Hate? A fine line between love and hate?

I did not state that.

Arkansas. You’re right. I am in Arkansas. What are you going to do about that? Do you hate me yet?

I do.

See how easy that was? See why I won’t be back?

I do. Won’t stop me, but I do.

on east side - unwinds

Thoughts come to me over time, about that day. It started in Paris but we landed in berlin. I met her at a cafe, sparse, but the coffee was good and strong and we sat outside despite the chill. We were lilt with attraction and compassion, both with our guards down we chatted. That was not me. That was drawn from me. That was her skill.

I remember a bit about a bumpy flight. That too was very cold. It was dark. I heard men talking in the cockpit but was not sure they were aware of me. I was in the back hatch, in the darkness

Early November. I believe. Cold and damp.

Sparks

Every Spark Dies

Not in it’s own time

But in time

Time enough

to fuel another fire

itself to roar

and spore more

Or dance on air

For a fraction

Of a blink

Before cooling

Fuel used

Up it floats

Amidst motes

Of dusty ashes

Until 

it's exquisite,
extinguishing
final
FLASH

Shipley's Slippery Shiv

It does no one any good to mourn the loss of Shipley.

He was a man shrouded in angst, hounded by dread, defenseless against the demons that danced in his head.

His bad day was always your worst moment but thankfully you could walk away and leave it at that.

He lived with the malaise. A malaise of his own making, marking the pain on calendar pages and paper scraps with notes to strangers.

He hid most often from sight as he hid the demon that cowered inside him; disagreeable and demanding little urchin that spent it’s nights eating at his gut. The days too bright.

I mean Shipley was the kind of dude that wore shades at night. His eyes said too much otherwise. In fact when Shipley did not wear his specs he looked strangely naked and vulnerable, but still angry as heck. Pissed off, like he had to get up early after a night of bingeing.

He carried a knife in a sheath on his belt. Didn’t try to hide, or show it. Just wore it. Never drew it, but you knew it was there.

Some say Shipley had a bad set of cards when it came to women, but more say it was them that were jinxed by his black heart…the Ace of Spades. It’s hard to read a man that hides behind shades.

So Shipley went in the night, the urchin wins, eaten up inside, his heart finally gives. He died. And it does no one any good to mourn the filthy dreg, nor is it right to spit on him instead.