Who is This?

I try texting this doll face

I’d enjoyed some dances from

At a hole in the wall club

Years ago. Absurd, I know.

Then I get the inevitable

reply: “Who is this?” Without

punctuation of any kind.

The reply opens up a

Pandora’s box of worms.

So I leave the lid closed.

A few minutes later I get

a cryptic text from a different

Number with a different area

Code:

“We haven’t seen you

in a long time how have

you been” I reply: “Who is

this please?” A few minutes

later: “Is this not Elly? This is

Danielle. Don’t you remember?”

And that reply came with a pic

of a professionally dressed cute

Asian lady. What are the chances

I smirk and sigh. Like Charlie

Brown with the football I have

to try. Long story short a few

texts later I determine the sender to

Be a scammer unrelated to the

baby faced black girl from the

trap.

Who is this? Who is this?

It’s the question Emperor Wu

Asked the Bodhidharma.

It’s the question Jesus asked

his apostles. The question we

ask of someone we thought

we knew until…

and it’s the question

I ask you

and myself

too

–Fyodor Bukowski

Buy my novel on Amazon.

Johnny Depp, Rock Star 😆

I sometimes chance upon a

video so ludicrous that it makes

me smile. Once involves a certain

Hollywood actor famous for playing

a pirate based on the mannerisms of

Keith Richards. I don’t watch films, but

that’s all well and good. I understand

his character brings great joy to young

and old. But to see him barely playing

guitar while costumed like a reject from

a Guns n Roses cover band and sharing

the stage with Jeff Beck no less is a

bit much, especially for a guy like me who takes

shots of Pepto-Bismol to get through

tbe day. Keith Richards

gave everything he had to his music

and that’s why he’s still legit up there

while guys like Johnny just don’t deserve

that stage. Is Jeff Beck so starved for

attention? Does he think he might get

Sloppy seconds on some of Johnny’s

teenaged fans? I smile as I think of all

the starving and talented guitarists out there

Who could be saved by playing with Jeff.

Then I find that Johnny’s talents extend

to the world of painting and who knows

what else. It’s gratifying to know that

That his paintings sell while Van Gogh

died unrecognized. Of course, the moronic

Will attribute all this to envy and hate,

But I don’t begrudge the man his acting

Accolades or his wealth. In fact,

I googled “Johnny Depp animal rights” in

The hopes of finding some nugget about

Wonderful things he’s done for animals,

But what came up was an allegation

From his ex that he dangled their dog

Out a car window and threatened to put

It in a microwave. Hollywood Vampire

And cartoony Keith Richards knock off

Pirate, man of myriad talents and owner of

one

Hell of a greasy self satisfied smirk, I

Salute you, American hero, Johnny Depp.

— Fyodor Bukowski

christmas day

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

Bye for Now, Mama

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

Cam Girls of Colombia

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

The Only One

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

The Rotting Retreads

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

Stingy With Compliments

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

Not to Hurry

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

Behold the Saint

After surveying several

“gentlemens’ clubs”

and not seeing anyone

who got my endorphins

jumping like happy

dolphins, a baby-faced

black girl with Betty Boop

lashes, long blonde locks,

and a curvy body wrapped

in sheer white embossed

with little hearts, sat beside

me and asked my name.

I told her the truth, that it

didn’t matter, since I was

neither rich nor famous.

And I added that she looked

good in white and would

look good on white too. A

line I’ve used before but

made up myself. She was

just my type, which is to

say I wasn’t her’s. Another

black beauty pulled up,

who I knew to be hip,

so I shared with her

an article about one

of Phizer”s ex chief

scientists and VPs

proclaiming that

our governments

and big boy “vaxxers”

are lying to us in order

quite possibly cull

Us. Now I”m

no doctor, but when they

supress the voices

of people like this,

that tells me something.

Anyway, the hip one

started to read the

article aloud and

knodded along,

then the other one,

Ms. SUPERSWEET,

asked me if I believe

all “that stuff.” And I could

tell by the way she said

it that she didn’t. It hit me

then that I was jeopardizing

my dances with her. Well,

I told her that I have no way

Of knowing for sure

but that the big boys

pushing the injections

are on record as promoting

population control, and that

it’s wise to consider dissenting

voices. I may have also

mentioned the Georgia

Guidestones…and that

was pretty much that,

since she was a nurse

as it turned out. Well, I

knew that with each word I

was pushing her farther away

but said those words anyway.

I’d rather drive home

unsatisfied than have

the consequences of

not speaking

on my conscience.

So maybe that supervising

nurse who called me St.

Francis all those years ago

when I was an STNA wasn’t

so wrong. after all.

—fb, author of Mail Order Annie, a Story of Passion and Compassion