i was writing an epic poem
in ottava rima and was told
by a few of discerning taste
and acerbic tongue that
it was funny, and witty, and
original, but after a day
followed by many others days
of
crushing labor and a neighbor’s
barking dog and a hard on with
nowhere special to go it’s all I
can do to write like this:
a desperate poem
from a desperate man
to other desperate souls:
when the brain bleeds
the pen screeds.
driving around
Looking for a place
to order food
but the only spot
open is a Chinese
place where a stunningly
lovely girl works, but I can’t
have her for Christmas and
there are too many man-
sized children standing
around
Wearing baseball caps
so I drive off
with only my liberty
and dignity intact
Of limited use is any
holiday when the dumb
slaves get the day
off too
I was in a small wooded area
bordering a field
As I glanced all around
Ready to dump the
Shopping bag of
Cat food
I spied a green couch
at the far end of
the field
and a ragged man rising
from it. I dumped
the bag and started
back for the car.
“Hey!” the approaching
beggar exclaimed.
I calmly entered my
car and started to
drive away, but knowing
humanity and
realizing there was
a chance that
the beggar would
stomp or spit
in the food
out of spite,
I pulled into an
abandoned lot,
popped the trunk
and dumped more
dry and then wet
cat chomps into
a bag, doubled back
and dumped that
near enough
to the field for
Hungry cats to smell.
I saunterd back
To my ride,
A .38 on my hip
feeling as good
as it gets
theses days
–Read my book on Amazon
she came to my back door
winters ago
with two kittens
in tow
i took them in
the vet said all three
had feline leukemia
the kittens passed
soon after
and mama took to
grooming me instead
licking my thinning hair
until strands of it
hung from her tongue
I would pet mama
and tell her she will
one day see her
babies again
and when I cried out
“Mama!” when the
nightmares came
as they’d come since
i was a child, mama cat
was the only one to run
to my side, lick my face,
and remind me that i
wasn’t motherless
after all
this went on
for several years
Until this morning
as i was leaving for
work, having already
counted my other cats
i then found mama
open eyed and on
her side partially covered
in her own urine
though she’d seemed fine
just yesterday
the vet said it might
have been a heart attack
I whispered goodbye
and told her
we will be together
again. And the pain now
Can’t be explained.
For her, and myself,
I prayed the
Rainbow Bridge prayer
and to St. Francis and
Jesus too, then I
searched for a Buddhist
prayer, and though
it spoke of animals
as being our mothers
in past lives,
it would have
me pray for her to be
reborn human, and I
love Mama too much
for that. She was and
still is my Mama
in this life.
–fb
As the world is poisoned
and enslaved
by technology
and since romance
and the days of my youth
were slain years ago
I’ve taken to peeping in
on the cam girls of Colombia
Especially one with a sweet
petite figure, ravenesque hair,
and a mouth full of braces.
her life force bursts through
My Android screen and leaves
me gasping at glimpses of what
could have been and probably
was for her ancestors dancing
In grass skirts on
Some unspoiled island,
flowers in their hair, as the
drums announce the arrival
of my ancestors wearing
Frilly shirts on some
sailing ship while staring through
crude telescopes at the laughing
island girls wading towards them,
honeyed breasts glistening under
the sun. And now I lay on my
worn futon watching this
Cambodian babe
who could make me so happy
laughing and making rap
video hand gestures as
the (other?) peeping perverts send
virtual margaritas and
she rocks happily to the drums of
“Highway to Hell” as if we haven’t
traveled that road long ago
and arrived at our
eternal destination.
— FB
When they taught us that
Evil entered the scene
Because Eve ate an apple
I told the other kids
the nuns were lying
I was the only one
at that school anyway
And when the other punks
were playing in cover bands
I said that a cover band
is just a cheap jukebox with
flesh and even a crappy
Real band is better than
a good clone group
any day
And I was the only one to
start an original band
on my bloc
And when the tards
blasted their
brainless bass beats
day after day
through everyone’s walls
and skulls, I was the
only old timer
to to put a stop to that
on my street
And when the lot owner
sent his goon to
tell us who were
feeding the strays to stay
away, I was the only one
to laugh in his face and
keep returning to put food
out in places near enough
for the strays to smell.
And when they silence
those who tell the truth, I share
their words at drive-throughs
and I’m not the only one
but it seems like it
most days
–Fyodor Bukowski
I’m not going to launch into my
usual disgust for humanity. I’ve
waxed that before, but would it
have been too much for whatever
fat vaxxed slob who hit him
or her to have checked to make
sure he or she was out of misery
before moving the squirrel out of
the road? Well, once again the God
of Creatures left that up to slovenly
me. After seeing that he or she wasn’t
moving, I grabbed the tail and pulled
the squirrel onto a large envelope
and carried him or her into a shaded
little alcove off the road. Of course to
be eaten by other creatures , a far less
obscene fate than to be smeared across
the road by fat vaxxed creatures I never
want to meet.
–fb
once in a while I can’t help myself
and check the old social media
to see what the old friends
and hot asian girls I’ll nevet
are up to. today I made just
that mistake. An old pal
posted a video of his new
band made up of old farts
in splashy shorts playing
and singing “Respect” by
you know who. And the
rest of the set list was
just as dusty. Far better
it would have been to
have written and played
anything original, even
if screamed or whispered
to the most basic of chords.
Yet by all appearanced the
fattened human cattle
there would disagree..
how they shook their
grey locks and sang.
And how they clutched
onto (like there will be
no tomorrow)
the pizza slices that
they got for taking
an experimental vaccine.
–fb
a tatted teen pulled a pointy guitar
off the wall, plugged in and shredded
away with tapped arpeggios, 3 note per
string runs, power chords, etc. It was all
too fast for me but dizzyingly well done.
nobody said anything after he
stopped playing. The cabbage patch girl
had been busy with her phone
behing the counter and the
shoppers were too occupied with
their own rock star dreams
to care enough to say anything
either. I pulled a steel-bodied
guitar off the wall, sat on the
stool, and played some 30’s
ragtime and then some Lightning
Hopkins licks with my index and
middle fingers while my thumb
beat out a bass rhythm. No one
gave a glance and Cabbage
Patch behind the counter
thinking no one was looking,
bent over and
shot a selfie of her fat
round ass.
–fb
life is tough enough
and lovely enough
that having to Hurry
through it is a screaming
shame. I remember being
led into a simple hut
in a Peruvian rainforest
and introduced to
a family, all wearing
something like loincloths,
a fool might call them
them poor, but they
fished together
and stayed together
said the tour guide,
she added that they
woke up when
Nature told
them to, not an alarm
clock.
and I still can see
those beaming smiles
and pudgy brown
bodies in my mind
driven mad many times
by the West’s “progress.”
They handed me a big
urn of something that
the tour lady warned me
was quite strong, and
she wasn’t kidding.
I took a mouthful then
I handed it back to
the dad who passed
it to one of the kids
About 9 or 10
years old
who took a big swig
that put mine to shame.
then they had a healthy
laugh. And we had to
go, the tour lady had a
schedule to keep, and
so did I, and that was
my downfall, and probably
hers too.
–fb
Musings, Mutterings, and Condemnations 