Hot In The City, Tonight

Its so hot today for a winter day in November-because 80 fucking degrees is ridiculous this time of year. Global Warming? That's just gobbledegook cooked up by those brainwashed wacko liberals, right?

All I know is that there are places in the world where the median temperature has gone up more than 1.5 degrees in the last 20 years, generally a phenomenon that takes HUNDREDS of years. So who is responsible is really a moot point now-we ARE running out of oil. The global temp IS going up. Tidal waves, subsea earthquakes and tsunamis ARE becoming more frequent and most importantly-they're getting stronger. If SF were to have a quake similar to the scope and size of the one in Chili, we'd be FUCKED. SOMA, The Marina and other parts of the city would liquify instantly or be underwater altogether. At least where I am now is on bedrock so its going to shake like crazy and break stuff but won't be swallowed by the earth at least.

Down Libraries

Late November's light
set against a sunshine scrim.
how many years
has it been?
Your heart
stared at Medusa's face,
(her snakes
are paper thin.)
your literate desires
burn down libraries
in the storm of words
you exchange in sleep.
the machine starts up again
when we reach the sea
would have liked
more than one
who recognized
we're on empty,
the lone arm
waving a white flag
in the driving snow.
done with Civil wars
disheveled lives and loves
mistrusted trysts
and added risks,
funeral plans
typewritten sans
parenthesis stands
wrapped around
future plans
it all blows away
they turn blue
and hollow faces
replaces aces
in a once winning hand.

Regards To The Stars (unedited)

you count your blessings
you want a life
you can't afford
time to wash your face
its been days
blame it on the bottle
this town will pickle you
you'd do well
untell the story
soon its over
at the beginning
when the gulls flew
and the fallen women
helped storm clouds
gather here
jellyfish drift like
smoke and haze
in the broken
glass reflections.
neon in the background,
hounds of hell tattoos
tells of a lie that's honest
born angry, just the open wound
bared the bile of the soul
while we lie to ourselves,
the canvas is big
the view point is wide
when the past and future meet
at the beginning and the end of time,
there is a hand
reaching out from a door
the hallway is dark
the room is full of light
at the edge of forever
everything is brilliant
and shining
and white.

Frozen Waves (far across the sea you're hiding)

Do you remember
the boy I used to be?
standing by the birch trees
a white hot sky
and birds singing,
name calling,
calling your name,
calling you out
on your shame.
what you're hiding
inside describing
someone who feels
like dying.
magicians manifest
the act of deceit,
conceit repeated
for all to see,
the magic of waves,
the magic of sound,
the magic blades
shoot into comets
locked in the tree
darkened shades,
fade and wander
shrouded by frequencies
vibrating cerulean darkness
summons deep
ice blue catacombs,
iridescent blue,
cataloged
and waterlogged
by ancient waters
that ran true.
the rabbit breathes
again, the handkerchief
changes colors,
flies through space
and distant stars die,
collide and change their colors.
minute particles
slip away into the
past light, previous
starways pass the harbor
strays, dancing ghosts
and placid hosts,
north star, guiding light
blue heavens;
where the
gods toast.

crystal days (clear)

trace his path
across the face
of a painting
of a stage
please...
lights go by
black and white
images filled
with post-war
misery,
please...

Other days
promises made to
children explode
and gazing out my window
another dawn shatters
like crystals
in a geode
like jewels
that make women
scream
please,
come back,
baby..

(and FUCK Meg Whitman....no, really.)

For All The Cunts in Marin County

Demons
offer conjecture
suburban wives
offer lecture
but lecture yourself
you rot the
shelf
your canned goods
sit on.
log on,
dot com
stay at home mom
careless
care less
care less about
everything
that stands for
something
that stands for you.
you bleed
claiming agony
but servant
in your matron's tower
reduced to ashes
lacking feminine power
but still usurped
perturbed, you claim
demons came to take
the perfect undisturbed
uninsured, inured.
scandal perpetuated
by whoring jackals
and their offspring
cloven hooved and rooted
in evil
like thresher sharks
tearing at flesh
gone mad with the
killing frenzy
of chaos.

and yeah, fuck you, you stupid lazy SOW of a pathetic excuse for a mother. Fuck your victim mentality. play the lamb, then cry loudest at the least worthwhile time. I am SO fucking SICK of women who use their children as shields against having to deal with the world. FOR GODSAKKES WHATABOUT THE CHILDREN?!? My mother taught me to keep what little money I had in my wallet. and never leave my wallet out where someone could see it. Backpacks? Pe-shaw! If you are too fucking stupid to tell your kids to keep their cash in a wallet(or their pocket)at the very least-then either YOU are sorely lacking in common sense or your kids are fucking retards, but since they were raised by YOU, what's the excuse? You can't take care of 3 kids at once? Wait! I forgot this is Marin where kids float on clouds, do whatever they want and are uber protected by dimwit mothers who stand by and do NOTHING, SAY Nothing and then...I'm the thief? Fuck you, you bitch! You claim we stole from you-when we're not there to defend ourselves, how nice!-when you know damn well we have nothing that belongs to you?

Guess what...next time I see you I am going to give you a piece my mind-a big one- so you NEVER forget what happens when you STUPIDLY expect the world to protect your kids from real life-and try and badmouth me on top of it.

Morning Escape (blue dawn)

Old time money
is fading
books unbound
flip, whipping
around in the air
impaired
my hollow atmospheric
stare at the rockets
red glare
stitches in woolen
arcades unraveling
in the cold
evening twilight
words reabsorbed
in to the very first page
these words, invisible
thimblefuls.

the first page
is blank like the second
and the record begins
with nothing
but crackles
and mysterious hissing
grooves long and thin
with delights
trapped within
and long winding high
ceiling cathedrals filled
with inept spirits
who long for a host
a steeple filled
with people
and spectral shipwrecked arms
gather flowers
overhead.

Halloween

The witches tune
sung to the moon.
dark skies
and goblins
coming soon.
bauhaus plays in
the background of the
room, its gloom
here in October
the perfect
place to be.

No October Needed / (you always run to sleep)

his footprint
across unlit
pavillions
distilled
to where
the air
is no longer needed
like a diamond
or the light
in a spark
dancing across
hot wires,
moons reflecting
on the surface
of an owl's eye
in the blink
of the flapping wing
the drop of a new tear
cleanse the wounds
and pains yet
to appear.

Johnny Ace

let me tell you
about johnny
and the starfuckers
and also-rans
and the ones who longed to
be longed after
who chased and scored
and vanished.
My indie film
casting couch whim
my partner edits films
for some famous editing guy
what do you mean
you've never heard of him?
cool kids, unspooling
in the modern age
from black to grey
minor threat
black flag new wave
every scene, every stare
every drug you ever heard
and a whole bunch more.
I've been in everything
you haven't seen.
my best moments in all
my films
never end up on the
screen, chopped
and floored
like some extra
longing to be
the backlot whore.
my life is art,
my films are free
would you buy my DVD?

----

unfinished*

Love & Vampires

miracles
are the same color
as candy
as honey
as the color
of his hair
riding on handlebars
chewing bubblegum
your brother
never took
you here
over the hedge
beside the lake
two boys learned
to love mistakes
to know the
unknown sew
the undone
find a pathway
through the
darkness
of the maze
at long last
let the sadness
rest aloft
on the wingless
nameless fathomless
impossible breaths

he looks like a god just holding some flowers
the window is down
seasalted air and the
feeling of love overpowers
ancient Rome,
the armies of death
lingering from
the past
all die and vanish
like smoke
the yoke is lifted
drifting off
unhinged, emitting
two boys wonder
at a great distance
clocks and calendars
disappear and earth
lets loose its Van Ellen belt
like dry curls of wallpaper
falling to the floor
in an old rotting
carnal house
full of vampires
fed by your desire.

4th of July

the sky
off the port side
of this ship
is diamonds

cobalt blue
bleeds crimson red
into mandarin atmospheres
dithered up from
air into shades
of disappear.

workers, dreamers
sparkling and glittering
tethered like sailors
against 4th of July
fireworks going
off inside
your heart.

Yeah, baby....

State of the Nation

lying in state
desperate and tranquilized
less than human in your eyes
they must have cried a
thousand tears
rinsed like rainstorms
from porcelain to
an antiseptic notion

Rat Race (requiem for six new angels and the army of dead lovers)

dog running down the street
scared to death
running running running
trying to get away
or get to SOMEwhere
so he won't have to run
anymore
his feet are sore.
we've all seen it before
like scores upon score.

boy running down the street
scared to death
running
to get somewhere
safe
somewhere he won't
have to worry about running.
a place that heals
his sore heart
a place that safely says
express THIS part
of who you are.
we've seen it all
before, the last
hand silently turns
and closes the door...

old man running
down the street.
enclosed by steel boxes
first one with wheels
then one without.
no more voices
only faint traces
of faces within
memory's palace
running running
running to the void

I Remember Greene Street

a grain
of sand
through
glass
nick drake
sings
and hours
and chocolate
and strawberry
oceans wash
past.

the last
sunlapped petal
drapes intself
against fractal
abstract skies
waves lapse
as society castes
aside clawed lions
in english
countryside
past times.

-

nobody sings
about jesus
being alone
no one ever
sings
about being stoned
on the phone
the calendar
keeps track of
dope and mechanical
memories
made of soap
no body loves you
no body sees
no one needs a reason
but your corruption
is just too extreme
in agony
I can see
what's up your sleeve
the dreams that
leak like water
from the bottom
of a sack.

I said I loved you
and it was true
only one man knows better
the man in the moon
we talk for hours babe
I meant no harm
Harms not very good.
nobody loves you like
me and the dogs.
No one sees your
soul in repose
and slowly
as the hours pour
like dry martinis
in spectral shakers
heading for the sea
no one will remember
how many you poured
for me

Happily lost in the middle of (Nowhere)

the residue
of a thousand
world war twos
compressed into
an afternoon.
Like early deaths
or less expressed regrets
everything seems
to come too soon.
the last beat of a breast
our chest at its fullest
why wait for
dismissal, life's
winter thistle
drawn across
the soles of
our feet
hit the road
like its on fire
see clear past
the befuddled
trees.


(talk, the mind expands, its not easy but was the inescapable lack of clarity in this world what I rebel against to begin with? How do you fight against things when the world says everything is wrong? I don't understand why things are confusing sometimes but I know that I breached the hardest barrier of all in life which is realize that everything I am, everything that I have, all the ability that I possess-that I am thankful for everything. Everything is transitory. There is as much life on the surface of a painting as there is on the floor of the ocean. mountains crumble and clocks run out of batteries. The world is FULL OF EVIL but I won't give up because I have seen blue skies. I still think we can ALL get there.

The suicides of gay children make me wanna holler. we send our children off to die. throw handfuls of daisies into the wind. escape. sleep. dreams. bob.

Allison Moyet Sings at Kirsty MacColl Tribute Concert

Oh my god I am sitting here in TEARS! TEARS!! And Alf looks amazing! I don't think I have ever seen her this thin in the 30+ years I have listened to her sing(Yaz,Fad Gadget or solo). Its clear she loves this song and Kirsty. I hope somewhere Kirsty is watching and listening and loving this as much as I am.

This Charming Man

This Charming Man - Morrissey/Marr

A punctured bicycle
On a hillside desolate
Will nature make a man of me yet ?

When in this charming car
This charming man


Why pamper life's complexity
When the leather runs smooth
On the passenger seat ?


I would go out tonight
But I haven't got a stitch to wear
This man said "It's gruesome that someone so handsome should care"


A jumped up pantry boy
Who never knew his place
He said "return the ring"
He knows so much about these things
He knows so much about these things


I would go out tonight
But I haven't got a stitch to wear
This man said "It's gruesome that someone so handsome should care"
Na, na-na, na-na, na-na, this charming man ...
Na, na-na, na-na, na-na, this charming man ...


A jumped up pantry boy
Who never knew his place
He said "return the ring"
He knows so much about these things
He knows so much about these things
He knows so much about these things

Hope You Burn in Hell

Dharun Ravi and Molly Wei-what kind of sick fucking monsters are you? Who would do something like this for fun? for FUN? I hope someone ass-rapes the both of you in jail. And now some really wonderful gay person with a talent for music is dead. I hope you're fucking happy-fuck you! fuck you! fuck you! rot in hell!

Beautiful Creatures - Tweed

He looks very regal in his posture and I love the heroic pose I captured.

Yeah, its too hot to sleep. We're all up...roaming around the house looking worn out and overheated so I thought I'd do what I normally do when I need to do SOMETHING on autopilot and took pictures.