The Cro-Magnon Neanderthal Disarmament Talks of 40,000 B.C.
A NOVEL STORY
TOM SAWYER said THE DHARMA BUMS
went ON THE ROAD to play THE SUBTERRANEANS
at TORTILLA FLAT just off CANNERY ROW
where THE FAN MAN and THE CATCHER IN THE RYE
ambushed THE GREAT GATSBY over
THE ONE HUNDRED DOLLAR MISUNDERSTANDING.
but HUCKLEBERRY FINN swore that
ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST
for a LOVE STORY like RUBYFRUIT JUNGLE
where EVEN COWGIRLS GET THE BLUES
or some CATCH 22 like
THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA.
A SPIRITUAL DRIVER’S MAP TO HIGHER LEVELS OF CONSCIOUSNESS
Janus Aura Alpha, San Francisco’s Cosmic Lady, stood smiling
on the steps outside the Sacred Heart Church handing out a freebie
to all the people coming out from the Bob Kaufman service.
On a single xeroxed sheet Janus Aura Alpha was offering everyone
from the bottom of her heart a collage of the bottom line –
all the knowledge you’d need to reach that other side of mind.
Janus Aura Alpha, cosmic dreamweaver, was handing out free
to anyone who’d take it that menagerie of wisdom – her
Spiritual Driver’s Map To Higher Levels Of Consciousness.
On just a single page Janus Aura Alpha was giving away free
to anyone who’d read it her basic and advanced astrologic
training course in cosmic vibrations. Janus Aura Alpha
that memorial Friday was offering free to anyone who’d take it
a star-magical chance to get in touch with Bob.
ABBREVIATIONS
GI
POW
MIA
KIA
IOU
AFRICAN
DOWNPOUR
L.F. Ants
yooz d
treez f(war)
umbrelluz
w(eye)l d
High Enuz
kakill
joyfoully
en d
mournin’ reign.
AMERICAN
In a time long gone by
adventureres adventured
into a world of adventure.
Cold cruelty lurked all about
and deadly death lay all around.
Yet these adventurers adventured on.
And in a time less long gone by
these adventurous adventurers
adventured into a land
of adventurous adventure
where all of a suddden
as if by adventure
cold cruelty cruelly froze and
deadly death died suddenly away.
And in a time least long gone by
these adventurous adventurers
adventured into a life of
adventurously adventurous adventure.
AN ANT
An ant
marched up her face
as she lay on the grass.
He climbed
up on her nose
as if it were a rock.
He hurried
toward her eyes.
He seemed a little lost.
When he
came to the bridge,
he stopped and looked about.
I think
he was perplexed.
His head moved back and forth.
Then he
spun around
and started to go back
to that
intersection where
he made the wrong turn.
AN OLD DELTA BLUES VERSE
The professor stood intently
in front of the anthropology class
and addressed the students
as she held the tombstone
upright on her desk.
“The Twentieth Century was
an uncrowded time
in the history of Earth.
People buried their dead
and marked the graves with stone.
This tombstone was uncovered
in the sixth layer of habitation
in a rural cemetery
on the periphery of an area
called Memphis, Tennessee.
Notice the curious inscription
incised in the middle
below the illegible name.
It appears to be a fragment
from a musical composition.
We assume the deceased
was the author of the song.
The dialect seems a variant idiom:
‘Bosms, botms, tits ‘n’ butts!
I likes da ways she crax muh nuts!’
Intrepretation bears out the fact
that technology in that dark age
was not genetically developed.
Humanity in that primitive century
clearly reproduced sexually.”
B
4
U
tri
2
run
the
whirl,
w(awe)k
thee
yoon
uv
urth.
BAG DAD
Yoop hurp telps frump Zampl Klop
toop tulps boup Nampl Grushoop.
Bup yoop nop hurp Dinch Kempl hachoop
wemp Zapl koochapt Fump LaGoop!
Fump LaGoop wups ha hrepl greelp.
Heep kipld hent krepld ha kroop.
Heep peevn kupramld ha pinjy ha goomp
hent rimpld ha bimpl ha boomp!
Whemp alomp drimt Zapl,
twelpgurt ump himps drampl,
zelpr, garyump hent gloomp.
Hent heep spumpt Fumpl’z humpky
wip drilpnix frump garyump
hent gumpld himps gloomp throop goop.
Bup Gump LaFoop flypt!
Sop powp primpt twelpgurt,
powp jrimpt zelpr
toop koopchap Gump LaFoop.
Bup Kempl hachoopt,
Fump LaGoop froopt
hent Zapl kurapld ha roopt!
BEYOND THE BEYOND
We’re all suckers
but she’s a sucker and a half
with patches on her back side
just hanging out for laughs.
So blow it out your elbow.
Life is just a wink
in eternity’s cosmic eye
just watching over priests
in a donut factory
deepfrying wisdom flour
into holy carnations
of chocolate nirvana
where you give up conceiving
and you give up perceiving
and you give up giving up
making rings of religion.
Friend, take a match to this
if you take a trip beyond
conceiving of a place beyond
which you can go beyond.
BLIND DATE
I got a beautiful
lady just for you.
She just got into town
from Jupiter.
She’s got a great pair
of antennae
and a nice
green complexion.
You can have
fabulouis conversations
about wonderful
life forms
in neighboring
galaxies.
She’s truly
interstellar.
CENTSLESSNESS
The centslessness
of life is the price
of the fleetingness
of it all.
Whatever the pallor
of dollars you’ve collared,
prepare to
spend them all.
Meatcleaver life
is about to slice
into the pit
of the peach.
Whatever nectar
is left in your sector,
loose the juice and
spit out the seed.
CHILDHOOD HEROES
When Jack grew up in the Fifties,
he listened to radio shows.
The Lone Ranger was number one.
All the kids on the block said so.
When Jack grew up in the Fifties,
true heroes never charged a fee.
The Lone Ranger was your best friend.
His nickname was Kimo Sabe.
When Jack grew up in the Fifties,
he wanted to be an Indian
like Crazy Horse or Sitting Bull
but Tonto was number one.
When Jack grew up in the fifties,
true heroes helped everyone.
So what if ‘Tonto’ meant ’silly’
or ‘Kimo Sabe’ meant ‘dum.’
When Jack grew up in the Fifties,
true heroes never stuck around
trying to get elected.
They just rode out of town.
CORRUPT RULING CLIQUE
You can always smell
a corrupt ruling clique
by the lousy way
they click their hate.
You can always smell
a corrupt ruling clique
by the oily way
their grease their dread.
You can always smell
a corrupt ruling clique
by the rotten way
they shoot you dead.
COWBOY
Charly James
lived out of a shopping cart.
“Muh home on wheels,” he’d say.
“Got a quarter for a ol’ man?”
Charly James travelled light;
pushed his cart wherever he went,
fulll of wrinkled old clothes in brown paper bags
and flowers and leaves to loandscape his home.
And as people passing by would stop and stare,
Charly James would ask,
“Wut’re ya lookin’ at?”
And they ‘d laugh and say, “Your cart.”
Charly James wore a fancy straw hat
and a face full of gray blond beard.
And Charly James would say,
“I’m a cowboy an’ us cowboys sleep outside.”
So whenever Charly James got tired,
he’d just lay down and drop to sleep
on the sidewalk or in a doorway
or next to his cart in the gfrass.
And as people passing by would stop and stare,
Charly James would wake and wink,
“Name’s Charly James, kin ta Jesse.
Got a quarter for a ol’ man?”
DEATH OF A SPORTS FAN
Morgan wound up
to throw his best pitch
when suddenly
he scrambled to his left
and raced down the field
where suddenly
he leaped into the air
for the game-winning dunk
when suddenly
Mother Nature threw
a crisp right cross
and knocked Morgan
clear into the end zone.
DESIRE
d
s(eye)
her
d
s(hi)
her
d
s(i)
her
d
s(high)
her
d
sigh
her
DOODLE
Giant butterflies
shimmy up lightposts
to balance
ideological checkbooks
with x-rated harps
idiosyncratically
above art’s dumpster
in the pouring rain
where tiny pigeons
talk to the cosmos
and canopeners pry
while worms rhumba
in front of a noisy
barroom dartboard
crumbling beneath
sufferable humanity’s
relentless onslaught
of piercing curiosity.
DREAM
consciousness
onsciousnes
nsciousne
sciousn
cious
iou
o
iou
cious
sciousn
nsciounes
onsciousnes
consciousness
DRIPPING WET
The green shoes
the lady isn’t wearing,
the gold socks
the lady isn’t wearing,
the blue jeans
the lady isn’t wearing,
the orange blouse
the lady isn’t wearing,
the mauve bra
the lady isn’t wearing,
the pink panties
the lady isn’t wearing
as she steps from the shower
compare unfavorably
to the drops of water
flashing on her body
like a rainbow
after a morning rain.
EIGHTY-SIXERS
Hairy prospectors
have abandoned lonely haunts
to mine the golden shafts
of hilly San Francisco.
Panhandling liquid people
streaming down rapid streets,
their goldplated eyes
dig two-bit tunnels
into rich nugget pockets
of rubyred dreams.
EUROPE
Getting out of America
to get America out of me,
I Atlantic’d to England,
London’d down the Thames,
Channeled to France,
Paris’d up the Seine,
boulevarded to Montmartre
and cafe’d my way to
a European state of mind.
FEARANNOYA
I’m THUNDER TONGUE!
I’m LIGHTNING RAGE!
I’m EVIL DEVIL-BREW!
I’m ALL YOUR FEARS!
I’m FREEZING FIRES!
My name?
KOOCHEEKOO!
KOOCHEEKOO! Guess HOO? Guess HOO?
KOOCHEEKOO! Away!
KOOCHEEKOO! And BUGABOO!
I Roam both Night and Day!
Both Day and Night
I Scare! I’m FRIGHT!
I’m GLOOM! I’m DOOM! I Prey!
If you step OUCH your day today,
I’ll GECH you Right Away!
And More! And More!
I’m MIDNIGHT LORE!
I’m UNBEELEEVABOO THEENGZ!
If you step OUCH your door tonight,
you’ll never again be seen!
FIRST-SIGHT LOVE
When I asked her to dance,
she told me our feet
spoke different languages.
I told her I worshipped her eyes
and I prayed to the goddess in her thighs
that we were destined to breed
generations of poets
but she only gave me Lincoln’s
Gettysburg Address reaction
and she Dunkirked all my advances
before I could get off the shot
that would have been immortalilzed
throughout the civilized worlds
of the western Milky Way.
FREE SOCIETY
conventional conventionality,
unconventional conventionality,
conventional unconventionality,
unconventional unconventionality
GLUTIUS MAXIMUS
Glutius Maximus was born to rule.
He grew up with ardor to spare.
Glutius Maximus was nobody’s fool.
He would get into everyone’s hair.
Glutius Maximus thought he was cool.
Control was his one desire.
Glutius Maximus wanted that jewel
of priceless world empire.
Glutius Maximus studied his stool.
Destiny’s star shone on him.
Glutius Maximus dropped out of school.
Education would blind him.
Glutius Maximus had all the tools
to reach his life’s true fate.
Glutius Maximus broke all the rules.
Nobody would get in his way.
Glutius Maximus began to drool.
Visions danced in his mind.
Glutius Maximus began his rule
inside the state asylum.
HE(ART)
(are)t
m(eye)nd
drea(am)
th(awe)t
HIPPOPOTAMUS DAYS
I feel like I’m living
on the bottom of a river.
It’s raining so madly
the sidewalks are cracking up
and raving into the gutters.
That turn-of-the-century messiah
is no better than me
as I walk down the street
on a stream of liquid prophecy.
Forrests of cloud-high water
are towering downwards
all over this drowned city.
“Timber!” screams the sky
as I wade to that island
nicknamed the U.S. Post Office.
But yesterday’s mail
and this morning’s mail truck
have been washed out to sea
by this lightning blitzkrieg storm.
So I swim across the street
for a custom-made sandwich.
When I ask for a ‘52 Chevy on rye,
the mermen tell me to take a hike.
So I put on my deluge boots
and trudge outside into the yuck
where I sink like a riverhorse
clear up to my imagination.
HOME
tree
branch
mountain
cave
building
room
space
ship
INCONSEQUENTIALITIES
The chocolate cookie fiend
rushed into the chocolate cookery
as fast as a parking meter
swallowing a quarter as if
the intersection really cared
whether the lowrider raced
thru the light like an asteroid
crashing thru the atmosphere
of a gas-chamber bar teeming
with kooks of a stranger breed of
outlawed civilization domesticating
aliens from the inner space
of a psychopath’s neuron gap
hiding in the cleavage
of a Hollywood starlet
served with 20 chocolate cookies
and a pink paper napkin.
INDIFFER ANTS
To outwit indiffer ants
outflank their think tanks.
Infiltrate their vigil ants.
Erase their memory banks.
Then watch the domin ants
run around confused
about their pulled-down pants
and their power defused.
LAGO PETEN ITZA
I bused way down deep into the Yucatan to Lago Peten Itza.
I flew off the bus, dashed into a one-dollar room,
threw off my clothes, jumped into my trunks, blew out the room,
stormed down to the lake, dove straight into the water
and smashed right into the body of a huge white dog
carrying a bunch of bright red bananas in his huge white mouth.
Freaked, I torpedoed back to shore and scrambled out by chance
at a shrine of that huge white dog inscribed: EL PERRO DE DIOS.
Tripping closer for a better look, I slipped on a bright red banana
and fell back into the water right into that dog’s face. God’s dog
just cocked his eyes and winked at me. Then he sharked up
his bananas and disappeared. Mind blown, I swam to the spot
where that dog had vanished and swam into a tunnel filled
with a bright red glow. Dying for air, I spun around and squirted
out of the tunnel. And out swam God’s dog. He grabbed me with
his huge white mouth and dragged me back back into the tunnel
and up into a cave swirling with sweet jungle air and jammed with
mounds of bright red bananas. Dropping me in a puddle of banana
juice, he padded over to a pile of bright reds, flipped a few to me
and trotted guickly out of the cave. Mesmerized, I jumped up and
ran after him. The cave turned into a spiraling shaft coiling up into
a huge underground cavern where just 13 feet away stood a
Mayan priestess in a bright white robe of incandescent light.
As I stepped closer, she slipped out of her robe, slinked over
to my side and, easing into my arms, she whispered into my ear.
LAUGHTER
The universe galloped across
the palm of her right hand,
swerved abruptly up her pinkie
and vanished into thick air
teetering on the ragged edge
of her chewed fingernail
furiously scratching
her right eyebrow
and suddenly reappeared
dangling from her right eyelid
sprinkling galaxies haphazardly
across the sparkling blade
of her keen consciousness
slicing aesthetically
thru life’s reflections
bouncing obliquely off the darkness
vortexing between the dazzling clusters
of star-brilliant joy trampolining
from her right breast to her left breast
and back and forth as if
the cosmos were founded
on the double-titted beat
of creation horsehooving
thru eternities and infinities
of godliness.
LIE(F)
waiting
it
out
at
Miami
Beach
art
deco
hotels
in
deck
chairs
morning
noon
night
nineteen
seventy
one
LIFE
Two topless ants
were taking it all off
to a roaring crowd
at The Crimson Rose Petal
when a famished anteater
crashed the rosebush scene
and vacuumed up
the entire ten-piece band.
The audi ants screamed
and scrambled right and left.
Many jumped to their deaths
off the edges of the club.
The lucky ones, the fire ants,
slid down the flower stem
and happily escaped
into the primeval forest.
LOVE QUEST
Life’s greatest living ichnologist
was hot on the trail of
the prehistoric ancestor of
the modern romance novel
when she discovered a pair of
petite fossilized footprints
in passsionate pursuit of
a larger pair of fossilized footprints
circling the burnt-out ashes of
a prehistoric campfire and
heading toward the entrance of
a nearby prehistoric cave.
MALE SUPREMACY
boys
trying to prove
they’re men
men
trying to prove
they’re heroes
heroes
trying to prove
they’re gods
gods
trying to prove
they’re worshipped
METAPHYSICAL ASSASSIN
He was so mad
he stormed out of the house
and Daytona’d downtown but
he couldn’t get away the pain.
When he crashed his car
into the alley behind the bar,
he massacred a row of garbage cans
and scared the wits out that cat.
On the way into the bar
he slaughtered the backdoor
with his hands and feet and
tried to bury it in the ceiling.
He bombed the barstool with his butt
as his arm bazooka’d an ashtray
into the barroom mirror reflecting
the battlefield on his face.
He occupied the bartender’s time
like an invading alien army.
An armada of beers sailed down his throat
and punched a Panama Canal thru his head.
Heartwrecked in a Carribean Sea of oblivion,
he tidalwaved back home and ebbed
into the house as if a female cloud
had eclipsed the man on his moon.
In the quiet bedroom darknesss
he shucked off his clothes and
slid into the sheets beside his wife
whose arms snuck around his chest.
Suddenly all the pain died away
and paradise reclaimed its throne
as he kissed her murmurring,
“I murdered us all over town.”
MISS T
miss tease sees him
miss tease seize him
miss tease ease him
misty seas hymn
MUSICAL CLIMAX
When he
picked up
the saxophone,
he dialed
rhythm
and got a
busy number.
He hung up
and dialed
blues.
She was
gone.
He hung up
and dialed
jazz.
After three
straight rings
she came
on the line.
NARCISSA
Sashaying gayly up the street
in her high-necked long-sleeved
green-red-white-and-black
just-above-the-ankles
cotton flower-print dress,
strutting ladylike up the street
in her black-and-white high heels
with 3 or 4 brown foxy furs
laced around the slender shoulders
of her royal drag-queen body,
she constantly checks her figure
mirrored in the store-front windows
as if between each sexy stride
she just might actually
turn into a very real lady.
NEOLITHIC VOYEURISM
the nomadic iceage eyes
of a sparechanging wino
staring prehistorically
thru the tacohouse window
at a mammoth chicken burrito
disappearing sabertoothly
into the cavernous maw
of a twenty-first-century
all-american dine-o-czar
tastelessly returning a smile
NEVER PUT ON YOUR ENEMY’S BLACK LEATHER JACKET
He came in thru the window
as slick as his black leather jacket.
I jumped him when he thought
nobody was around.
We rolled on the floor
before I knocked him out
and tied him to a chair.
His black leather jacket
lay harmless on the floor.
I picked it up and
tried it on for size. Before
I knew what was happening,
I was looking around
for something to steal.
I pulled out all the drawers
and dumped everything out.
I threw the bed apart
and looked for hiddden treasure.
I looked in the back of the toilet.
I looked in the refrigerator.
I emptied the laundry bag.
The guy had nothing worth stealing.
The day was a total loss.
Out of spite I stole his toothbrush
and snuck out the backdoor.
OFFICE ROMANCE
He splashed hot water on his face
and gripped a paper towel.
He jerked and pulled and what do you know -
the whole lot tumbled out.
A flock of towels dove to the floor.
Paper lay scattered in piles.
He knelt down quickly to pick them up
and a note caught his eye.
He picked it up and found a key
scotchtaped underneath.
A hundred dollars peered from below.
He unfolded the sheet.
Whoever wrote it made it clear.
“Go staright to the airport.
Open the locker and find a ticket
and another hundred dollars.”
Another hundred? Was this a joke?
He needed to find out.
He grabed a cab. He got there fast.
His heart was beating outloud.
Locker 5 sat way up high.
He put in the key.
The door opened and what did he find -
another folded sheet.
He found the ticket, the hundred and more.
“Your bag is aboard.”
It was three o’clock. He made up his mind.
The plane left at four.
He sat in the back bound for Hawaii
wondering “what next?”
Five hours later the plane arrived.
He got his bag and then
he opened it up and found inside
clothes and an envelope.
He looked inside and what do you know -
a key to a hotel door.
He hurried outside and grabbed a cab
and rushed to Waikiki.
An hour later the elevator
reached the topmost floor.
Straight down the hallway he quickly walked.
He unlocked the door.
A naked woman lay on the bed.
Her face was masked. What’s more!
She motioned to him and he walked over.
She pulled at his clothes.
He undressed quickly and lay beside her.
And into his ear she spoke.
“Happy Birthday!” she softly said.
He reached for the mask.
She gladly laughed. He pulled it off.
Would you believe . . . his wife!
ON MY OWN
When I was almost two, I left home.
I was sick-n-tired of being told
what to do and how to do it.
I just got in my car and drove away.
I didn’t say goodbye because
I didn’t know how to talk.
ON THE ROCKS
sex on the beach at midnight
under a full moon while the waves crash
over your head drowning out the roar
of her orgasm ringing loudly in your mind
OZ WORLD
Crazed lone gunmen with magic bullets
are aiming man-licking rifles at us
as we motorcade thru Deadly Plaza.
2 hits? in 3 shots? in 5.6 seconds?
suddenly knocked our minds off their asses
by three-way crossfire on our synapses.
Ghost stories of the ofishoil version
ma(teary-all-eyes)d the day before in the papers
of the auth(whorey-tease) eye-mash-a-nation.
PARADISE BALLROOM
A fairytale of fairyland -
a festival of feet;
a carnival of dancing songs -
a marathon of beat:
The music starts. The disco’s dark.
The lights begin to flash.
The drinks are downed.
The rhythm pounds.
The bodies start to thrash.
Tyrone’s arms, an octopus,
whirl into space.
His feet spin.
His body’s in
an avalanche of lace.
Andrew’s eyes, two butterflies,
float from side to side.
His jiving lips,
his thrust-out hips
groove to his lover’s glide.
Angel’s hands run the band.
Her fingers grip and slide.
Her legs fly.
Her shoulders try
to imitate Roxanne.
Roxanne’s hair sails the air.
She leaps and swings around.
Her body twirls.
The music hurls
the beat beyond the sound.
The dance goes on
till sun dawns.
Then feet leave the floor.
The music stops. The lights drop.
The owner locks the door.
POETRY SAFARI
Big-game poetry herds run the streets
at the corner of Turk and Taylor.
But you must hire a reality guide
and the right word porter
to get to their state of mind. And if
you reach their experience jungle, you
must stalk these sidewalk carnivores
with the wildest imagination or
they’ll eat your inspiration alive.
And if you get their elusive meanings
in the lyrical sights of poetry’s rifle,
take aim with absolute metaphor
or they’ll trample your poem
as they stampede off the page.
PUNKLE SHAM
Half past three
‘neath a green oak tree
SHAM swung.
Hung for his crimes,
swung for his sins,
FREEDOM hung SHAM from a limb.
FREEDOM to hire, FREEDOM to fire,
FREEDOM to work, FREEDOM to quit,
FREEDOM to come, FREEDOM to go,
FREEDOM to say yes or no,
FREEDOM from preachers,
FREEDOM from roles,
FREEDOM from leeches,
from doles,
FREEDOM from fair,
FREEDOM frm share,
FREEDOM hung SHAM from a limb.
FREEDON to selll, FREEDOM to buy,
FREEDOM to give it a try,
FREEDOM to win, FREEDOM to lose,
FREEDOM of will to choose,
FREEDOM from rulers,
FREEDOM from rules,
FREEDOM from leaders,
from fools,
FREEDOM from farce,
FREEDOM from force,
FREEDOM hung SHAM from a limb,
of course!
REBOUND
The homeless woman
wore her rag clothes like
the gutter wore slime.
Dame’s stench was clearly
immeasurable.
Step into her space,
you’d die instantly
and be reborn in
a far galaxy
and when you grew up
you would assemble
an armada and
you’d return to Earth
for revenge against
the streets that spawned her.
RELIGIOUS FANATICS
dreamers
disillusioned with dreaming
screaming into god’s ear
for that one-way ticket to heaven
visionaries
disenchanted with visions
shouting into god’s ear
for that last flight to paradise
idealists
disheartened with ideals
yelling into god’s ear
for that permanent nirvana vacation
holiness junkies
addicted to sacredness
crying into god’s ear
for an end to that sacrilege
of happiness on earth
RUMOR OF ROMANCE
Mytilene, Lesbos, 586 B.C. –
Sappho, Greece’s great lyric poetess,
in the middle of Friday night
ran away with the handsome Phaon
in his ferryboat to the Asian mainland
where he traded his boat for a chariot and
Sappho and Phaon rode enraptured to Sardis, Lydia,
to live out their life and love in exile.
Kerkylos, the forlorn hsuband of Sappho,
hired two brutal thugs to track them down.
Incognito, they snuck into Sardis
in the midddle of Saturday night,
drowned Phaon in his waterbed
and dragged Sappho gagged and soaking-wet
back to the waiting arms of Kerkylos,
the wealthy merchant of Mytilene, Lesbos.
Sappho from unrequited love for the dead Phaon
wrote a farewell note to her daughter Kleis
and rushed in the middle of Sunday night
to the edge of the moonlit Leucadian Cliffs
and hurled herself from the rocky heights
into the raging Aegean Sea below hoping
to be reunited with her dead lover Phaon
in the golden aftergardens of Aphrodite.
SAMPLES
They hold up
the four corners
of their world
when night lets
darkness out
to roam the streets.
Any man who
traffics by is
territory
to these anglers
casting legs,
cheeks and hi’s.
They flash their
miniskirted thighs
to men passing by
and any male
leaning on a wall
to catch the show.
Watch out for one
who’ll catch you
by the groin,
who’ll smile and
tell you she’s
just giving you
a taste of
beautiful
things to come.
SKIN DEEP
If looks could kill,
all the beautiful people
would have bullets for teeth
and everytime they’d smile,
we’d be shot dead.
SCI-FI FLICK
My co-pilot yelled out,
“Bandit! Ten o’clock high!
Fast as summer lightning
I banked our fighter right
and shot into the middle
of an asteroid belt
and hid our craft behind
a speding stream of
planetary boulders.
Just as the enemy ship
zipped into my gunner’s sights,
a fluffy pale-blue brassiere
landed on the surface
of our cockpit window.
In our dark confusion
the enemy spacecraft
took a few paniced shots
across the bow of our ship
and escaped into the void.
After we dislodged the bra,
our fighter took up the chase
and zoomed into empty space.
Within moments of a parsec
my navigator spotted the trail
of the enemy ship’s exhaust.
As fast as you can say zap,
we were on their flaming tail
and ready to blast them to bits
when these pale-blue panties
floated down betweeen our ship
and the enemy spacecraft.
I maneuvered our fighter
to outflank this garment
when the left-wing rocket
got caught in the fabric
of a black lace stocking
drifting thru the ether
of interstellar space. Both
rockets coughed and heaved
and suddenly died out.
As the enemy craft escaped
into distant nether realm
a woman’s naked body drifted
into my space-bound vision
right up to my startled face
where the tips of her breasts
danced before my star-struck eyes.
Softly, her sensuous voice
swept into my dazzzled mind,
“Time out for lunch, Buck Rogers.”
SMART GUYS
Jimmy Chair invented the chair.
That’s why the chair bears his name.
And Sammy Table created the table.
That’s why the table has his name.
And water glasses are named after
Tony Glasses. Smart guys everyone.
But none as smart as Hank Shoes.
If not for Hank, we’d all have blisters
on our toes and have to get there
on our fingers which would have made
Jackie Glove a household name.
But thanx to Bobby Seat
every single one of us
gets there on behinds.
SOPHIE
feel lass sophie
fill loose sophie
fool lust sophie
foul lice sophie
STORM’S END
gray gray gray gray
gray gray gray gray
gray gray gray gray
gray gray gray blue
STUD
Everybody’s a baby expert.
I’m an expert on babes.
Babies cry when they’re hungry.
Babes just bitch and rave.
If you don’t feed your baby,
she’ll cry herself to sleep.
Don’t feed your babe and
she might make you weep.
Babies wear the clothes you buy
at the baby clothing store.
Babes pick out the choicest clothes
at the most expensive stores.
Babies grow out of tantrums
like they grow out of shoes.
Babes never stop having
fits of rage at you.
So if I have a preference,
I know I’d rather wed
and have lots of babies
than have a babe instead.
SUNSET BEACH
The palm tree just stood there
as if it happened every weekend.
A huge wave swooped onto the beach
and a blue surfboard with a dark-haired rider
swooshed across the sand to the take-out window
when whoosh he was washed back to sea
with a ketchup bottle and an order of fries
just in time to catch the next big one
piling up offshore to bring him back again
for a double cheeseburger and a coke.
SWEET STREET SINGERS
Roselyn and David
sang the blues
at the corner of Royal
and Rue Toulouse.
Roselyn plucked the mandolin,
David his guitar.
Stormy, 2, a piece of woood.
He was the star.
Autumn, 4, just pranced about -
a pretty little thing.
She wore pink shorts, a pixie’s smile.
She didn’t need to sing.
David wore a tall tan hat,
Roselyn beaded hair.
And while she tuned her mandolin,
she spoke to the people there.
“Ladies and gentlemen,
people gather ’round.
We’ve come to entertain you.
Please sit down.
But don’t block the sidewalks
and don’t block the doors
to the stores and shops
and furthermore
we don’t take welfare;
don’t use foodstamps.
We don’t need medicare;
don’t like bureaucrats.
So donations are accepted,
needed direly.
We appreciate atttention
monetarily
’cause a nickle is a nickle
and a dime is a dime
and ladies and gentlemen
please take you time
rollin’ up those twenties
into little balls
and fillin’ Dave’s guitar case.
Let the money fall.
We’re just tryin’ to make a livin’
the best that we can do.
Street Corner Capitalism
is the livin’ we choose.”
Street Corner Capitalism!
The money floated down,
filled up Dave’s guitar case.
Autumn pranced around.
And Stormy dropped his guitar
and started dancin’ too.
He ran around in circles.
Then he hid from view
inside of Dave’s guitar case.
He just climbed right in
on top of all the money
and closed the lid over him.
And people started laughting
’cause wouldn’t you know
Stormy’s final curtain
had stolen the show.
TELEPATHY POEM
TELLING IT LIKE IT IS
If you can’t say
what you mean,
then you can’t say
what you don’t mean
because if you can say
what you don’t mean,
you can mean
what you don’t say
only if you can say
what you mean
when you mean
you can’t say it.
THE CRO-MAGNON NEANDERTHAL
DISAMARMAMENT TALKS
OF 40,000 B.C.
If the talkin’ stops
‘n’ the fightin’ starts,
take cover, baby,
‘n’ protect your parts.
THE GARDEN OF HER THIGHS
She snuck up behind him
like a panther in the dark
and draped herself around his neck
like a python around her next meal.
If he had looked into the mirror
like an owl into the night,
he would have seen her coming
as sly as a witch on a broom
but he was too busy talking
like a magpie in a tree
on how The Beatles ruined Rock
like Cortez ruined the Aztecs.
She was as drunk as a fish
flopping on a pier
and as beautiful
as a full whisky bottle
when her empty-glass voice
curled a thirsty question
around the dangling part
of his lusting left ear.
Her ‘Buy me a drink?’
flowed into his mind
like a river of gin
into a lime and tonic sea.
He smiled into her smile
like a vulture circling in the sky.
“Maybe,” he said
lilke a bee buzzing into a rose.
“What’s your name?” he asked
as if he owned all the flowers
that blossomed every night
in the garden of her thighs.
THE HISTORY OF DESIRE
cascading
over
the
edge
the
clock
hurling
time
at
the
mirror
reflecting
the
plunge
into
the
unknown
f
a
l
l
THE HOSTESS AT AUX TROIS MAILLETZ
Your black nouvelle stockings
spiraling upwards and
your short subtle black skirt
circling around and
your ripe red sweater
necklining beneath
your Monroe-blond
chic-Parisian hair
remind me sinuously
of Marilyn posing
for her last nude.
THE LATEST GREATEST AMERICAN POETESS
The latest greatest American poetess
was desperate to speak her heart.
You could tell by the way her body swayed.
She tripped on the stage at the start.
The latest greatest American poetess
had something important to say.
You could tell by the words in her vocal chords.
They got lost in her mouth on the way.
The latest greatest American poetess
had a poem on the tip of her mind.
You could tell by the sound that bounced around.
I heard it burst from behind.
The latest greatest American poetess
was on the verge of stardom.
She moaned and groaned and came into her own
in a spasm of audience boredom.
THE POETRY POEM
I rushed off the bus
and hurried up the street
to the poetry reading
at the poetry cafe.
As I opened the poetry door,
a blast of poetry air
hit me in the face.
The poetry place
rocked with poetry poets
sitting in poetry chairs.
As a poetry poet
read on the poetry stage,
I crossed the poetry room
and stood on the poetry edge
of the poetry audience
listening to the poetry poetry
filling up their poetry ears.
The poetry poets focused
on the poetry meaning
as my poetry body
sunk to the poetry floor.
My poetry lungs
choked on the poetry air
as my poetry hands
dragged my poetry legs
past the poetry poets
in their poetry chairs.
My poetry spirit
dragged my poetry soul
across the poetry floor
to the poetry door
where my poetry fingers
gripped the poetry knob.
As my poetry heart
craved poetry release,
the poetry door
hit the poetry wall
and my poetry body
lunged into the poetryless dark
gasping for poetryless air.
THE THINKER
He was too smart for his own good.
He was way ahead of his time.
He lived in a cheap hotel downtown,
a masterpiece on his mind.
He lived on fruits and vegetables
and raw nuts and seeds.
His greatest need was solitude.
He needed time to think.
He was driven by a vague idea,
his imagination on fire.
He crafted thoughts day and night,
clear thinking his only desire.
He sought that one mysterious thought
that would tie his thinking together.
His mind became a magical wand,
the ultimate creator.
Then all of a brilliant sudden
a great revelation dawned.
A miracle of mind occurred.
An intuitive leap had spawned.
In a single creative wave
his thoughts merged into one.
That elusive idea in his mind
was now clearly written down.
THE TREE THAT STOOD THERE
The tree that stood there
stood there just like the tree
that stood there but really
wasn’t standing there because
it was standing across the street
throwing its reflection back
across the street into
the flowershop window
standing next to the tree
that stood there just like
the tree that stood there
from across the street.
THE 21ST CENTURY
Washington Square was cool and dark
twelve o’clock Tuesday night.
I was walking home thru the park.
A group of men caught my eye.
Most of them were from the islands.
Their accents were Carribean.
They shouted about Armageddon.
One man knew the solution.
He called himself Jesus Plus.
But his real name was Mike.
Older than Christ by four years,
he jumped up and cleared his mind.
“I’m tired of all you jokers
who go aroun’ flashin’ wit.
We live in an age of false peace.
Man’s future will be hit or miss.
Nuclear war could wipe out Earth
in the next one hundred years.
The human race must conquer space
and all of its childish fears.
Humanity must colonize planets
and spread its genes to the stars.
This single cell man calls his home
must not be man’s false start.”
THE WASHITA RAID
Sunday, twenty-five seconds
into the break of dawn
in the gray freezing air
of a foggy winter morning,
General Gorgi Kostrovich
oredereed the Stlalinov Air Cav
thru the Okluma Pass
in the Tagzos Mountains
down onto the sleeping camp
of the Afghan rebel Blek Kutol.
Screaming thru the grayness
above the unsuspecting natives,
camouflaged helicopters
disgorged bloodthirsty troopers
into the middle of the teepees
In an instant, the snowy ground
shook with charging black boots
and the air screamed mortality
at anything that dared to move.
Pigs, dogs, horses, mules and goats,
babies, kids, old men and women
were shot down in total surprise.
In just thirty-three minutes
122 Cheyenne lay dead
on the bloody ice-hard ground
of the deathly quiet camp.
Black Kettle and his wife,
escaping on a horse
from the horror around them,
were both shot to pieces
in the back as they fled.
Congratulating his men
on the complete surprise
and the total success
of their top-secret mission,
General George Custer
ordered his men to gather up
the thirty captured rebels
for the return to their base.
As the helocopters departed
thru the sun-rising sky,
Blek Kutol’s lifeless camp
napalmed into oblivion.
THEM
The practically nothing bikini top
covered them up like Willie Mays
taking a homerun away from Mantle -
high up against the wall
his glove just over the top
making the catch of his life.
T(I)M
i’m
time
i’m
t(eye)m
(eye)m
t(eye)m
(eye)m
t(i’m)
i’m
t(i’m)
TIME AND TIME AGAIN
The hours fly out the window
like flies out of the trash.
She bangs her head against the wall.
She can’t find her past.
The kitchen doors slam shut
on the fingers of a dime.
Happiness screams out,
“You aint worth the time!”
Sliding down the backstairs
into emptiness,
the soles of her shoes screech
into nothingness.
But when she hits bottom,
she bounces to her feet
and rampages back up the stairs
to start another week.
TWENTIETH-CENTURY AMERICA
1900’s – The Boat Generation
1910’s – The Bet Generation
1920’s – The Beaut Generation
1930’s – The Bate Generation
1940’s – The Boot Generation
1950’s – The Beat Generation
1960’s – The But Generation
1970’s – The Bait Generation
1980’s – The Bought Generation
1990’s – The Bite Generation
U-F-OEM
A flying saucer from outer space
about the size of a poker ace
landed thump on my desk
and out jumped an alien guest.
It hurried over to my poem’s last line
and arranged the words in a better design.
Then suddenly in one big leap
it was in its ship and gone in a beep.
V.I.P. FLOORS
The elevator always stops
at nine, five and three.
The very invisible people
are going shopping.
WAIKIKI
They played chess
they played chess
they played chess
at the beach
while beautiful women
while beautiful women
while beautiful women
almost naked
walked back and forth
walked back and forth
walked back and forth
all day long.
WAR MOVIE
Guys were getting killed
right and left and
all over the place.
They were getting killled
so fast you just
couldn’t count them.
It was unbelievable.
But that’s what kids liked.
That was what they
went to the movies for.
To them it was just
entertainment.
And then years later
some of these same kids
werer shipped overseas
to another war where
more guys were getting killed
left and right and
all over the place.
They were getting killed
so fast you barely had
time for a body count.
But then you got hit
and then you were
no longer in the audience.
WAR
NON
SENSE
killed
for
nothing
in
the
middle
of
no
where
WATERMELOM COOKIES
She ran into the kitchen
and hid in a drawer.
She heard the footsteps pounding.
She ran out the door.
She heard the footsteps pounding.
She hid in a tree.
She heard the footsteps pounding.
She ran down the street.
She heard the footsteps poundfing.
She ran around the block.
She heard the footsteps pounding.
She turned to look back.
She heard the footsteps pounding
but no one was there.
She heard the footsteps pounding.
She ran in a store.
She heard the footsteps pounding.
She hid in a box
of watermelon cokies.
She waited and then
she heard the footsteps pounding
as that goddess-witch Art
moved her busy factory
deep into her heart.
WHICH
WITCH
Which
witch
watched
which
witch
watching
which
witch’s
watch?
WOMANIFESTOE
Indulge your fantasy.
Run away from you problems
and life’s frustrations
and boredom and loneliness
and all of the pains
of a modern man’s vexations.
But don’t come back
if you change your mind.
Your spot will be occupied
with somebody who
(I don’t mean you)
is a lot more stable inside.
WONDER
awe
glorifying into
praise
praise
beautifying into
prayer
prayer
magnifying into
habit
habit
ossifying into
ritual
ritual
petrifying into
ceremony
ceremony
fossilizing into
religion
WRITER’S CURSE
He was in the shower and she
was washing his face with her lips
when he got this great thought
and he had to write it down but
she had locked the shower door.
He got so desperate he almost
smashed his way thru the glass.
Luckily, she calmed him down but
when he got his senses back,
his mind was a total blank.
Copyright 2007 by Larry Ziman
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