Thursday, February 11, 2010

some poems from 1st decade of 21st Century

"MASKS" ('01 - inspired by a dream)

We are all given them
In our childhood
You are This
I am That
Defining our nature
For others to feel safe
The Mask tells all
Who we are
And we play into it
By compulsion
Like puppets on a string
It's an old, old story
Now given new names
Psychological Profiling
But the result is the same
For the Mask is like a chain
To be truly Free
We must unleash our Spirit
And shine like the Star
That each of us truly is

(published in the anthology WAVES OF WONDER, 2002; and a spoken-word CD).

untitled (Jeanette) ('01)

Her eyes are amazing
Full of intelligence
And beauty
Her smile
Charms my soul
A throaty laugh
Is music to my ear
The way her long hair
Cascades over her shoulders
And down her back
Her lithe body
Strong and graceful
How could I not love her
The way she fills me
With joy
I bask in her glow
And thrive on her
It does not matter
That she doesn't return
My love
But that she cares for me
And trusts me
Is wonderful
She loves another
And as long as she is happy
How could I interfere
Time with her is precious
I cannot impose
I appreciate our friendship
Too much for that
I respect
And admire her
She is my Muse
Nothing wrong with that

untitled ('01)

I wander through life
Setting no anchor
I grow weary of places
And the people who
Inhabit them
Always the same
Which I cannot play
Would I?
If I could?
An academic question
I never fit in
Even among the fringe groups
I'm an Outsider
Accepted by few
Understood by fewer
Is it that I'm so
I just think
And that scares people
Especially sheep
As I grow older
It becomes harder
I'm supposed to have
Settled down
Or for
But I haven't
I don't follow
The rules
I follow the beat
Of my own drummer
And it's a lonely
But I am compelled
By some force
Beyond my understanding
I've tried to find
My place
Only to be upheaved
By my wunderlust
Or disgust
People come in
And out
Of my life
Even those I'd like
To stay
Only a few remain
It's been a fairly
Good life
If tumultuous
I even tried
Which was a miserable failure
Even though she too
Was an Outsider
She got dazzled
By the Glamour
Of the Inside
And tried to
Drag me along
Kicking and screaming
So I left
Against her will-fullness
Made some changes
But it wasn't enough
I had worn out my welcome
And played it
To the hilt
So I
Came to a new place
Only to find
Which I abhor
But such is
My life
What to do

untitled ('01)

Her I sit
A stupid lil' shit
What goes thru my mind
Is all of a nutty kind
I keep acting silly
Going all willy-nilly
As if I was a child
Not a middle-aged mild

untitled (unfinished '01)

For love he always burns
But he never learns
From the resulting pain
Not to put his hand in the flame
or - Not to open his heart again

untitled ('01)

Just an old man
Waiting for Death
His life is over
It is all past
A full life
He wishes
He still had
He's lost his
Ability to create
His love life
Is over
His existence
Boring routine
On and on
He goes
No future
Only the past
To remember

untitled ('01)

And so Pierrot's
Hopes are dashed
He opened his heart
To have it smashed
He dreamt of
Love again
Always the same
There is no one
For him
No one
To love him
For himself

untitled ('03?)

The illusion
A mere phantasm
Into which we
Project our
Foolish hopes
It drives out
Distracts the mind
Sickens the body
What value has it
Poets laud it
And bemoan it
It fells even
The strongest
To give into
Such weakness
Is folly
I am one of the
Who has felt it
With every fiber of
My being
Most cannot
Lucky them
They only play at it
Based on
Hollywood drivel
Or Pop Music tripe
I am a
True Romantic
I live
To the fullest
There are so few
Of us
It is often a
Lonely life
So many Posers
In the world

This is an unfinished poem I started back in '03, but abandoned due to too much pretention; but I'll share it anyway - maybe you'll get a laugh:

"Fallen Stars"

I feel like an
Ethereal Being
Trapped in a prison of Flesh
I don't belong
I'm always two steps
Behind the rest
I wander the wastelands
Of civilisation
Wondering what it all
I am a seeker
Who never finds the
Only more
Is there a god?
Singular or plural?
Male, female?
Neither, both?
Does he/she/it
Give a shit?
What is all this
I meet so many
Who feel likewise
And so many who think
They know
Those sound even more
Are we the
Fallen Angels?
Is this
Our punishment?
Is human existence
The bowels of Hell?
Why do so many
While others wallow
In ingnorance
Ah, blissful ignorance
Is so tenuous
Based on perception
Muddled by Fear
There are always
Running the world
Ruining the world
For their own
Childish pleasures
They are the lowest
Common denominator
Spouting drivel
For the masses
Are we not men?
If women ran the
Could they possibly
Do worse?
I am Lucifer
Hear me roar
I rale against
The heavens
And their indifference
To serve man
As a side dish
With fava beans
And a nice chianti
I'm inundated
With pop allusions
In this time
Can one escape
Fresher breath?
Whiter teeth?
Cleaner skin?
Without disappearing
Ah, the good old days
When were those?
Before Adam
I think
Though Lilith
Was a fun girl
Is it pretentious
To call myself
When I'm just another
In the freak show?
So fucking what
Is just another
Defense mechanism
I long for
The sweet embrace
Of eternal night
I have sought
So often
But the little fucker
Always leaves me
As he scampers away
At my desire
He's such a tease
As I drag my
Flesh bag
After him
Life drags on
Like a slow
Moving train
I wander from
Car to car
Meeting other
Lost souls
Stabbing at the
As some jump off
In to the cradle of
What keeps me
From it
I should've been dead
So many times
But here I linger
Like forgotten
Moldy round the
I've outlived
My time
Though I never
Belonged in one
My cross to bear
Like a tin martyr

untitled ('04)

I've come so far
Yet hardly moved an inch
I've learned so much
Yet know nothing
The more I know
The more I know I don't know
Knowledge has no answers
It only opens more questions
I try to expand my mind
Only to find myself
Burdened with limitations
I know most are only illusions
But I don't know how to break free
And even that is an illusion
How to break free
Of my own bonds
How do I stop
Suffocating my True Will
How do I find my freedom
With the swollen masses
Acquiescing to mind-slavery
How do I stop the Pain

This one intended as a prologue for my novel in progress DAMNATION...


Among the ethers did I roam
With my fellow beings of light
The firmament was our home
The beauty of eternal night
We were blessed lacking for naught
We tripped the light fantastic
Playing as all beings aught
Our imaginations elastic
All life was a story told
We watched with such glee
Till humans did I behold
Their stories fascinating to see
I wandered over the beautiful Earth
Viewing their creative madness
Rising to the heights of mirth
Then sinking into such sadness
I spent much time with these creatures
With those on high, and born low
With poets, soldiers, teachers,
Monks, beggars, those in the know
Then from the heavens was I cast
For overreaching curiosity
Into human flesh recast
Which taught me their true ferocity

I never knew my real father.
He was a travelling mentalist,
Using the stage name of Dr. Faustus,
Who seduced my Mother,
An aspiring singer,
Then moved on.
Mom married an airforceman,
Who gave me his surname,
Till they divorced a coupla years later.
I was born via cesarean, prematurely,
With a stillborn brother.
Mom took me to my first movie,
When I was 6 months old.
I was entranced.
She took me all the time,
As I would never make a fuss,
But watch the entire movie.
I was also a beach baby,
Learning to swim,
Long before I could walk.
My first theatre experience was
When I played Baby New Year
A couple of months before my 2nd Birthday.
When I was 3 she married an
Ex-musician turned businessman.
He adopted me; and along came a
Sister, then a brother.
One Summer a cousin
Came to visit.
He was 18, I was 5.
We bonded.
Two weeks later he was
In a motorcycle accident.
I realized my mortality.
At age 6, I was labelled a
Dreamer, and slow to learn.
The other kids, at Catholic school,
Tormented me mercilessly.
And so my life as an outsider
Occasionally I met others like me.
With whom I had many adventures.
I had my first Lucid Dream
When I was 7.
I floated up out of my body,
Out my 2nd story window,
Into the overgrown garden next door,
Where I met various creatures,
With whom I felt at home.
As I returned to my body,
I met my dead twin brother,
Who said he'd be with me
In the Summer
Between 2nd and 3rd grades
One of my classmates
Along with her little sister
Were raped and strangled
A few blocks from their home.
Mom and Dad
When I was 9.
Dad played the
Sympathy game.
But I did see a lot
More of him.
He moved in with
His parents.
I spent time there
Hanging with the local
Pre-teen gang
Known as the 43rd Avenue Gang
(Pee-wee gangs in that 'hood
Were named for freeway off-ramps).
One time, he took
Me to the desert
To visit a client
Who had a daughter.
I was 9, she was 10
And oh so cute.
We skinny-dipped,
Slept in the same bed,
Explored each other.
Mom married a TV exec;
Their marriage was very volatile.
Passion is a two-edged sword.
One day, while living in his house,
Some friends and I played in the
Fields behind (which used to be
Farm land), coming upon a tree
In which sat a young man.
There was something magical
About him, in the truly
Hippie fashion.
He was leaving for Viet Nam
On the morrow.
He died there.
Meanwhile, this was the 60's
And while my little world
Kept being shattered
By circumstances beyond my control
There was upheaval throughout the land.
People were fed up with hierarchical
It was time for a change;
People took to the streets
For equality, environment, peace,
The high school up the street
Had riots in the playground
And teachers cars were torched.
There's always a dark side to
The power elite have been trying
To take back lost ground
Ever since.
When I was 10
We moved to a
Mountain resort
So I could breathe.
The smog in L.A. was that bad.
By the time I was a teenager
I suffered from Melancholia,
And had an Inferiority Complex,
Which interfered with my
Interest in girls.
I wrote compulsively
Stories, skits, poems, puppet plays.
I performed whenever possible,
Puppets, ventriloquism, acting,
Magic, clowning, story-telling,
The high school band, and a local ice show.
At age 12 or 13 I was
Put on Ritalin
And some other
These caused intense
Conceptual hallucinations.
I was afraid God
Would accidently step on us.
When I was 14, time with a
Trusted elder
Turned ugly
As he lusted after me
Becoming all hands
When he'd had a few.
2 deaths when I was 15;
An ex-girlfriend
In a small boat
Hit direct on by a speedboat
Dead before she hit the water;
My favorite uncle finished
His year long descent
Through Hepatitis.
One fine day
I hiked deep
Into the woods
I had only a piece of
Rope with me
Once I was far, far away
I found a tree
With a sturdy branch
I could climb up to
Which I did.
I tied one end of the
Round the branch
The other end round
My neck
Then jumped down.
There was the sound
Of a raging sea.
The trees rushed about
Then the Earth reached up
And smacked me hard.
When I opened my eyes again
I lay on the ground.
I looked up
Saw broken rope
Hanging from the branch.
I buried the noose end.
I couldn't move my neck for a week.
I said I fell out of bed.
[My first real love
Was at 16, she 1 year
And 1 day younger.
I wasn't cool enough for
Her, but she liked the
Attention, including the
Bad poetry I wrote.
She even disrupted my
Involvement with her twin sister,
Out of petty jealousy.]
I was diagnosed with
Simple Schizophrenia at 17.
That year, too, I was introduced
To the Faust story
Via Goethe in a lit class
We did a staged reading.
I played Mephistopheles.
Then, during the assembly
Where we were performing
While I tried to relax
Outside the auditorium
A classmate, some 8 feet away
Blew off his hands
Set himself on fire
With a homemade bomb.
I frantically searched for
Something to put out the fire
But there was nothing
And I got lost in the smoke.
Later, I made one of my
Super 8mm movies
About a young, modern
in which I played the lead,
And Mephistopheles, in a Bela Lugosi mask.
The same year
A usually benevolent ghost in our house
Was scaring my sister
So I performed an
(Years later we found out the Ghost
Had moved into the house next door).
When I was 18 I was seduced
By a Succubus, who took my virginity and my seed
Then cast me aside,
And kept our daughter to herself,
Which put me into deep despair,
Losing my Christian faith,
I smoked pot daily, and
Drank heavily, for almost year,
Until Mom threw me on a
Plane for Europe
Which changed my life.


I am a Warrior-Poet
I strive ever forward
Taking the trajectory of the
Titanic Hero
I rise above the din of
The Herd
Who crush any underfoot
Who show signs of "weakness"
But I have been too strong
Even I cannot break my Will
And none other that would try
Is equal to the task
Only weaklings want such power
And as I rend the veil from
Mine eyes
I feel the Truth
Course through me
Like Fire
The fiercenss grows
I fight for the purity of
Which is a struggle against the
That is my own
And I must own it
In order to destroy it's power
And I Will
For I do
And none
Save I
Shall stop me

untitled ('05)

In the Beginning
Were the Words
And God had quite a
Yak fest
He* spewed forth much
In the way of Illusion
Amongst which
Were certain apes
In order to differentiate
From the other apes
Climbed into caves
And donned other animals' skins
And declared themselves
Ah, what supreme folly

*('cause we all know how Men love to talk about themselves)

"DEATH DREAMS OF DR. FAUSTUS" ('05 - originally conceived as a prologue)

There was, or is, this man whom we call Faust,
Into deepest despair he became doused,
From which he could not, by good friends, be roused,
Even with a good shaking.

Within him, as in all, a God asleep,
A loss of potential that makes him weep,
The shadows that haunt him he should not keep,
For his soul is a quaking.

And too that Devil whose real name is Fear,
Is constantly whispering in his ear,
So as to continuously keep steer
The Sleeping God from waking.

Using hubris to drive to distraction,
Reminding him of ev'ry infraction,
Gib-jabbering without relaxation,
Which keeps him on mistaking.

His failures always play out in his mind,
Ridiculous old movies of a kind,
Searching for the alternatives to find
The memories are raking.

How easily he can lift the veil,
If only he accepted without fail,
Instead, against the heavens does he rail,
His life mis'rable making.

He circumnavigates this endless loop,
Of his Devil be he the supreme dupe,
His God never be able to recoup
From his own mind's forsaking.

The apex of his True Self justly knows
All this absolute nonsense really blows,
But not stopping it, on and on he goes,
Trusting the liar's faking.

Far too often he fails this or that test
On his interminable hero's quest,
If he would truly do his level best,
He could mend his heart's aching.

But he insistently breaks his own heart,
Pretending it's supposed to feed his Art,
Playing over and over silly part,
From life's pleasures not taking.

He's gone and thrown himself into a hole,
Letting himself be cast into a role
Which cannot, and does not, fulfill his soul,
That so much needs a slaking.

As with all he is the one who holds the key,
If he would now open his eyes to see,
He could find the true meaning of To Be,
Instead of a half baking.

untitled ('05)

He wanted me to play
So he could be the
And push me for the
He believes he so rightly
Being a good Catholic
He knows all about his
But also that he cannot be
That he has gone beyond
He pushes and he pushes and he pushes
As well as figuritively
But I manage to keep my
For after all I'm playing
And then the cops show

untitled ('09)

That elusive treasure
I've sought on and off
For decades
To no avail
Over and over what I find
Is Fool's Gold
I'm a Warrior-Poet
And desire a Priestess
But then I fall for weaklings
This my Achilles' Heel
And the few strong enough
I meet only briefly
Or some obstacle prevents
Our being together
And yet still do I long for
True Love, not the usual
Externalized, objectified
Pop entertainment variety
Which would only bore me
But where is one
Who can keep apace?
Why does Fate
Constantly interfere?
And yet
I've been more creative
When I've turned my back on
When I've let none
Distract me
Can I not have both?
Are they mutually exclusive?
Why would that be?
And how do I change it?
For I do so want
And Art as well
But I don't think I'll ever find


Wrote this a couple days ago, while doing yoga and listening to Frank Zappa:

Mother Earth
Why do you tarry
Letting this cancer grow
Why not wipe us
From your hide
Before we kill all
That makes you special
If we had more respect
We might deserve your
But humans care only
About our own egos
We are all guilty
As sin
Punish us
As you aught
Bring that supposed
"Wrath of god"
The more arrogant
Keep calling on
Thinking themselves
If you don't
All will be lost
Such a waist

Wednesday, February 10, 2010


a prose-poem

Are they watching?
I look.
I don’t see anyone.
Of course, that doesn’t mean they’re not there.
I know they are. They’re very quick. They’re very clever. I don’t always see them.

I did once. Not long ago. I looked out. There he was.
I hope he doesn’t come back. I would hate that.
HATE that!

What was that?
A shadow crossed my shade?! Has he returned?
I’ll kill myself!

Was there?

I don’t take showers. They might get in. I’d be helpless.

My cat! Sarajane! She’s outside. I haven’t let her in. I can’t open the door.
It’s been a while, though.
I can hear her on the other side of the door. She’s sniffing. Cat sniff.

She’s in. I just blanked my mind and let her in. She’s happy to see me. I’m very happy to see her.
Must feed her. She’s hungry.
I get the cat food. I open it. I empty it into her dish on the floor. She eats.

Oh no! Somebody’s yelling! Please stop!

It’s quiet. I hear children playing.
Far off.

I can’t move. Somebody just knocked. They must go away. I won’t let them in.

Please don’t come in.

They went away. I wonder if they’ll call. I unplugged the phone. I won’t hear it ring.

There’s not much. I don’t remember when I last ate.
Should I eat?

They’re at the door. I hear many. They knock. I can’t answer. They want in. They mustn’t. They call
my name. They know my name! Who are they? What do they want?
I can’t! P-L-E-A-S-E!!!

The only way OUT!

note: made this into a film in ’86, starring Jane Arakawa (of STREET TRASH)

"DEATH OF A PUNK" (1986)

Poor thing
Now you sleep
to wash away your Nightmares

Life was hard
You were harder
on them and you

But now you’ve escaped
The final escape
and now you dream no more


Bashed and battered
I lay in the blood of dawn
Lines in my face have opened
Part of me is escaping

Did I deserve this
What does it mean
Why me
I hate violence

My eyes are shattered
And scattered about
My face flows
Over my clothes

I rise slowly
Stand uneasily
My mind whirls
My friend is my reflection

We limp off
With help from others
No reasons
For this brutality

How do I avoid this
With so much around
Must I hide
Behind locked doors
Venturing out
Only in the crowded daylight

note: this written after some friends and I got beaten up in front of a club called the World (at 2nd & 2nd); that Spring at work, as part of faux-Oscars at the store I worked at, I got an Oscar for Best Stunt Work in "Battle of the World" (it was funny by then).

"SUBWAY" (1986)

The subway again
Long into the night
Many faces
No names
The noise
Invades your thoughts
The smell
Urine vomit
Cheap wine
Disease and decay
Death rides the trains
They take people

"THE MAN IN BLACK!" (1987)

I got on the bus
And there he was
The Man in Black
Mumbling to himself
I sat down
He gave me a sideways glance
And mumbled something more
I kept looking at him
Dressed in black
Turtleneck with cowl and slacks
Black knit cap patent leather shoes
Black fingerless bike gloves
Long manacured fingernails clacked
On his black cane
Relief came
From a wide silver belt
And gold chain
When he saw me looking
He put on his ski-glasses
And mumbled away
I wondered
Was this the Man in Black
Of legends past
The Devil - Mr. Scratch
Or the Angel of Death
But my stop came
And he went on
Mumbling away
So I never found out

"RAIN" (1987)

The rain pelts my face
As I walk along
My mind becomes peaceful
Rain has that effect on me
A flash of lightning
As if to awaken me
Is this
Mother Nature’s way
Of saying "hello"?


He sits alone
Chewing on fries
He begins to laugh
No apparent reason
Is he mad
The usual assumption
He is overly sane
And we
Being mad fools
Stop and stare
And call him mad
He smiles
At people
As they pass the window
They giggle
Or look away
Rolling their eyes
He laughs again
Another group
Of fries
Enters his mouth
What goes through
His mind
What’s so funny
He is quiet now
On the surface
A furrowed brow
Belies the silence
What goes on
What goes on


In the Shadow of the Mushroom
They came
The four Horse-Men
They were begged
To rid us
Of the Evil One
Who stays
Beyond the Wasteland
In the Melted City
She cursed us
Brought on
The Terrible Fire
Which burned
The world
And us
Off they went
Weapons bared

They found her
In the sand
Calling on more curses
They ran to her
She ran away
One of them
Fell into the sand
And was swallowed up
The others
Could not help

They slept
One watched
Over the other two
A ghost
Of some creature past
Jumped out
Of the dark
Pushed the watcher
Into their little fire
He burned
The ghost was gone

The two
Went on
They found
A well
Sent the bucket down
Brought it up full
It went down again
And took one of them
With it
He drowned
Leaving the last

The one
Entered the Melted City
For the Evil One
Who danced in the shadows
Always out of reach
Then they met
The Evil One told
Of the Poison
In the air
That he will die
The Horse-Man
Spit smoke
Which choked the Evil One
She melted
The Horse-Man went off
To die
In the Shadow of the Mushroom

note: this was intended to be the voice-over narration to a film, but never shot the film.

"TO DREAM" (1988)

To dream
Consciously dream
And to manifest our dreams
This is mankind’s gift

So dream
And follow it
Until you have gained
What you need

Why do you tarry
What holds you back
Free yourself
You have the key

Feel it
Flowing through you
Like warm water
Cleansing you

To the future
It is here

note: published in "Meditation" magazine Summer of ’88)



Am I mad? Quite mad, they say. They who, you
say? They who always say whatever comes into
their feeble little minds. I say "To hell with them!"
This does little good, however, for they are tena-
cious in their petty thoughts. And I am at their
mercy. So, I hide away and write:

I’ve been having
- Nightmares
You might call them
I find myself
In a strange city
That has no sun
Buildings blot out
The sky
The people
Are very strange
One in particular
Follows me
He seems so
Like no one
I can remember
He never says
Never comes too near
Just watches
He frightens me

He is mad. So I say. He lives far from here. And he
dreams of a strange time, far into the future. (Or is
it?) He knows not why. (And neither do I.) He
comes to me, and tells me his troubles, his dreams.
I write it all down. It flows through my pen like

When I dream
It is in my
But it looks
Is about
I go
Into the bedroom
To see
If my wife
Is sleeping
She is
But then
It is not
But some hideous
Who seems
To be dead

I think of her. It seems so long since last she closed
her eyes. I visit her daily. I bring her flowers. It is
quiet there. But I am not at peace. The memories
haunt me. She is there, in my dre--- no, I have no

The strange one
Stands at my door
I know him now
My Death
I retreat
Into a corner
I do not know
If I sleep
Or am awake
I am so
I try to
Tell myself
That I imagine
But still
He is there
At me

Death whispers in my ear. His voice is gentle. Like
a breeze. He is coming for me. Soon. I do not fear
him. For then I shall be with her. For all eternity.
(God willing – please!) I look forward to it. I
wonder what those feeble minds will say then.

My waking hours
Seem unreal
I walk
As in a fog
I expect to see
Around the next corner
I dread
The night
The dreams
My wife
Has left
I did not see
Her go
I wander
But find no peace
I sleep
But get no rest
I will surely
Lose my mind
If I have not
Already done so

I am lost. I cannot tell what is real, and what is
illusion, anymore. They meld together. I swear I
saw her. She came to me in my room. I wish it
were true, but can this be? I wait for her to come
back. I call her name. I do not sleep. Or am I
asleep, unable to awaken from this nightmare? All
is lost.

It is
He keeps
His distance
As always
Like a shadow
He smiles
I run away
I look around
And there
He is
At his

They are coming for me. She told me. She came
again. And told me my enemies were on their way.
To put me away. As if I were a broken cup, to be
put in the back of the cupboard. Out of sight. To
collect dust. They do not understand. Only she
understands. And she has warned me. They will
never hold me. I will go with her.

He comes closer
I stop
He does not
It is time
I run
Into a glass tower
And up
I ascend
I look
I am high
So very high
He is there
He embraces
I fly out
Over the city
Pick up speed
As the ground
Races to meet me
I feel free
The dream
Comes to it’s

(note: started filming this the same year, but left unfinished).