Ga Ga

Itd been

                    Forever

since he ran into a good old fashioned blasphemer

black spit
           susurrating between his broken and missing teeth

black heads dotting his nose and cheeks where his pores werent larger enough for them to fall into 

venal  to be sure

tangled  unruly long eyebrows 

rheumy eyes
               that the palest blue a hint of liquid quivered in

his body was shrunken desiccated

a caved-in chest 

thin cords of muscles ran down his forearms where they struck out of his plaid flannelled rolled up shirt sleeves

in his breast pocket a persistant crushed cellophane pack of Camels that never ran out of cigarettes

a butt smouldering between his yellowed nicotine fingers

in his eyes two things Fucked the World

God
     Id love to cut his throat and put my cigarette out finally in his blood

and

the United States Government

he had a bigger hard-on for It
                                Id love to fuck It raw in the ass

                        Fuck it Ga Ga

Ga Ga  he slobbered

Ga Ga  he spat

Ga Ga  like a retard with only sounds or syllables for his lack of words and Contempt

Ga Ga  he spazzed
                     a pronounced vein quivering at his gray fizzle-haired temple

his blasphemy
                never so much articulated

no patience to elicit a remark

his blasphemy
                like the stench off a moist turd crushed and smeared

emanating off the worn holey leather shoe bottom


his sole(said soul) said Ga Ga!                                                                        

1149,  Thursday,  2  4. 15

Bill Hems

           likely his name hasnt seen the light of day since his obit the Summer of ’76 its long overdue!

there had been sumptin rambling around inside his skull  jumping at the window sills of his eyes

scratching and gouging its sleek walls with their pointed claws  or talons                            

sumptin

               spoiling in the dirt

unlike a cat or a dog turned round and burying their feces  minimizing a predators ability to catch their scent

and track them

 

                                                                                                                                                            an arrogant sumptin  

who either didnt care or was ignorant

it was shit to have it locked in his vault

that he didnt have a passkey to spring or excise

and it prowled

grunted

banged its patchy hindquarters against his walls indelibly smearing them with Carnival Rorschachs appearing off

their mirrored reflections on the concave walls opposite them

he turned them slowly   three-sixty   deliberately

hoping a clue might reveal itself

                                                                                                                                                                          No

No

now who was ignorant

now who could point fingers fingering the other for malfeasance and grotesquery    

all he did wrong was wake up this morning 

the coffee smelled burnt in his nostrils 

he lived alone 

it gave him an out
but he didnt take it
 

Now   who was arrogant

Now   who was sumptin

Twosday,  12  8. 14

2039,  Sunday,  29 3. 15

He woke and slipped the sheets leaving her to her rest and dreams 

he paused

                  to watch her 

often he told her that his days were always beautiful  no matter  because the first thing he saw every morning was her

he enjoyed her                        

                         how she sucked at her lips  fluttered her eyes beneath her eyelids  sometimes screwing up her face

like a newborn babes without the words to say what disturbed her

                                                                                                            lost inside whatever she dreamt                   

he felt a flower unfurling inside him

and when it was bright  dew-speckled  fully blossomed

                                                                                          he stole silently out of their bedroom

the hall was dark

slightly lighted by a patch of burgeoning dawn drifting through the open bathroom window and door off the hall

onto its wall 

turning into the doorway he felt a wash of fresh air across his face chest shoulders belly and loin

the birds were beginning to harass each other  moist melodious assaults  and artful flutters 

he crossed the cold tiled floor  leaned his elbow at the window sill  and breathed deeply

 

after her

               this moment of peace  would be what he would miss most when he died

they were the right atrium and ventricle and the lefts  to his beating heart

warming his blood

filling him to perfection

he was a fortunate man

as he stood in the fresh air he heard a small aircraft pass overhead

to his left beyond a row of treetops at the edge of the hillock where the house stood he could hear the distant

highway traffic 

it was early  so it was tolerable

and standing there listening to what he endured his whole life

he wondered about the time before  before the machinery and belching madness  before everything became anthropocentric 

to benefit his miserable God-infected-and-fraught species 

it must have been splendid

the planet  blue  garden  green  young mountains  shallow seas

it must have been gorgeous

if he could transport himself  hed go   shed go

despite abandoning the other 

 
love never became a ghost
 

   

there was a ripple in the current through the window screen 

the days colour outside  changed

he blinked to reorient himself  confirming the subtle odd orange tint and brilliant rose edges

Magnificent                                    

                    he wanted to show her

but the window fell up and away from him

physics jumbled

the tiled floor  hot  impressed his back 

Ah  he said  young mountains

 

he didnt hear her calling for him

she had to find him 

despite her tears

among her tears

she saw  as he often told her to see

it was a beautiful day

1435,  Twosday,  31  3. 15

1854,  Day-Between-Two-Ts,  1  4. 15