Larry's Ghost

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

V

every time

How in the...

   How in the...

      How in the...

                            HELL!!!!!

...do I go on?

It's just a skip to oblivion

and I can smell the cooking

from here

dinners waiting

and I'm starving

sure to never

have a another square

can you spare me

throw me a dime

can you please ???

        - Don't have time

                kitchens closing

And I don't got mine?

        …...kitchen's closed

 

oh man...!

                  ...........kitchen's still closed

Well, if it's closed, then why the line?

 

           It's the VIP's, brother ...every-time.

V

No Allure

I gotta get out from under this roof,

cloaked in it's dank claustrophobia

alone in this morbid cloister,

it's corners constrain me

it's orchestral

creaks and moans

speaks to me

chastises me

for being a static statistic

stuck in his 

crumbling zone

I wandered away from the fight, 

relieved to render my shield

as the tidal wave was breaking

and no relief in sight

 

I got to get out of town

don't know if I can afford it

but what's keeping me here?

...certainly no allure

         ( if “allure” could only begin to describe it)

 

….musty, dusty, old hut.

A Jungle fills the wild yard

save for the barren spots

which are the turd lots 

for neighborhood mutts

but what happened here?

Is life got too hard,

you know...

it just got too hard.

Something calls me

out of my zone

is 'someone' with me

or am I all alone?

Is there a tomorrow

or an end?

 

Who the hell knows.

­

 

 

V

Seasonal

Off-springs

from fertile streams

be dammed

in Spring

when blossoms bloom,

and bestow

such a glorious

tight hold

less they are foraged,

plowed under

forgotten,

down trodden

and rotten.

­

all the worse in Autumn

when one realizes ­

that things, indeed,

do FALL.

Winds whipped

rustling fading gold,

soon rattling brown.

Some already gone barren,

now on the ground 

while others cling

to the last of the fears

letting loose of the branch

losing their dresses

their flourish, 

their grace.

A futile fight.

Now nearly nude 

while waiting

winter's blast,

their black bones

entangled

silhouetted

starkly dark

and naked

stuck in a globe

in a snowwhite

infinity

just waiting

for a shake

that's soon to come

 

 

 V

 

 

 

Work With Me

 I write this

as I have recently

done away with myself –

certain death by suicide,

utilizing a pharmaceutical I can't divulge

less some well-meaning citizen

attempts to save me

from the inevitable.

I will not be resuscitated,

as you may realize

my desire 

to terminate my existence

while waiting in the hallways 

of the Coroner's Office

should confirm.

I've taken my number,

which may not be misconstrued.

Simply hand this very letter 

to the proper authorities

so they may expedite 

my disposal.

There is no reason stated

and an explanation will not be forthcoming,

so do not spend inordinate time

pursuing a rationale.

Quick and efficient,

put me in the ground

or subject me to flame.

It makes no difference.

It's all the same. 

Let me assure you,

­I will not complain. 

 

 

 V 

Fro/z

Given a blank canvas,

there was nowhere for her to go.

So she froze

like a hose in winter.

Un – able

or un-willing...

to push it

her ice still chilling...

the potential to surpass

her preconceptions

not facing the promise

but overboard

for a false anchor

gradually sinking

she succumbed

to the mundane 

the daily 

the more common 

the slack

a racked back

she cried out

too late for

the fates 

of yesterday.

 

 

V

The Chute

There's a long dolly shot, shot down a long sooty hallway - low angle, smooth, steady, purposeful. It is a skateboard shot.

A door opens, the dolly stops in a clumsy style. 

A pair of bare feminine legs sweeps past cam. - the scene is wiped by the 'white trash bag' she totes - swish...

Reverse shot as she walks bare-ass by, bearing bag back down the hall in the direction from which he had just come. 

She stops halfway, just long enough to drop the trash bag down the chute. 

And returns.

She is unperturbed by her skimpy attire, sweeps briskly past cam. to the security of her doorway.

     

    Flips cam. 'the Finger' ... then SLAMS! the door.

 

He realized he had been holding his breath the whole time.  

     I mean...How hot can you get?

 

He stumbled there near the floor, groping for the wall, his arm buckling, folding hard head-first into the old brick masonry. He lay for a time before 'the faint' passed, and as he wobbled to reality he wiped the sweat, and a little blood, from his brow, breathed deep and sat upright but woozy for a while.

While chewing on ginger and jerky from a hip bag, along with coffee in a thermal cup clipped to his belt, he navigated the streets/rooftops/alleys/hallways/doorways, and private quarters ...his camera in hand. Imagined himself a ghost. 

Only problem was, they could see him. 

 

His business card read  "Cocked and Ready" 

No shit.

So it was this worm was collared as he relieved himself in an alleyway, pissing as a patrol car passed by, and directing into it's spotlight, 

Caught him dangling his dingle?

Precisely. 

Never assume you're a ghost. 

Lesson learned.

 

 

V