THE UPSWING

being contented
and therefore
there is no millstone
to push around in the brain-grey
even life’s bad strokes prove useful
their hex weds lesson to reason.

an ironic orgy of nothing
as if luck did not exist
the upswing contains drops of Yin
a little poison for the system
blessings
their hex blesses endurance, immunity

strength is the name of the game
those grains pass the cinch in the hourglass
so slowly & fatally the descent brings education
is there enough left for to better steal [our] time?

COMING HOME

 

when you find some one dead
there is a nexus between your mind
thinking, knowing they are alive,
then realizing they are firmly deceased,
there could be no denying it.

that cross-over, that switch
is ferocious in its speed,
but heavier than block lead,
it is a bewilderment.

DON’T MUSE TOO MUCH

her dimples,
to kiss them,
pour wine in them
and drink,
lap from them,
a harmless dog,
yielding.

those sea eyes,
thumb to brush hair from them,
cradle the wide world gently,
her celestial conglomerate,
my shelter,
her safe
angelic cosmos.

scanning seas,
green-blue or neither,
some new shade
nature never thought
to create.

soul, struggle,
that musical ghost,
spring through chest,
carry her through time.

THE INTIMATE GHOST OF A DREAM

in the context of a sex dream
there was no sex
but notes, accents,
nuances of a closeness extinct
save for some pinning specter
under the comforter
with me.

lucky there’s no dream smell,
to intercept reason,
exsanguinate the strength
toiled & collected
bricked up to guard,
to forget,
to help
self-renew.

TROLL

 

just a smug,
little,
ginger troll.
bumping coke,
bein’ a dick,
balls deep in a bad attitude.

New Year’s Eve,
and dude wants to start it all off,
by being a bitter, transparent
douche-nozzle.

not my problem.

the mansion booji & warm,
women superb,
booze shared & flowing,
oh,
but dude just knows better than everyone else,
that everything is shit?

wrong attitude to have kid,
didn’t care enough to tell him,

as he dunked his keys into one crumby gram,
no doubt full of cut, not worth what he threw down for it,
complex acting like the cat’s pajamas,
I slow dragged my cigarette,
and thanked the skies I was not this poor asshole.

DRINK RECIPE: The Obama Bomb

This is a little different than my blog’s usual fare. But I wanted to share this recipe that I was introduced to about a year ago in Philadelphia. I went down to Philly with a group of friends to celebrate a birthday. We stumbled to several bars and while posted up at one (whose name I can’t guess) we saw a drink on their little chalk-board menu that tickled my fancy. I love Boddington’s Pub Ale and they had it on tap there (which is rare for PA, or NJ where I am from) so I was already enjoying a pint of that. The menu on the chalk-board advertised the “OBAMA BOMB” and I’m not sure where the name came from but my friends Nick and Joey, and I decided to give it a whirl. It’s basically a car-bomb with substituted ingredients. Here is how to make it.

Fill a real pint glass  3/4 full of Boddington’s Pub Ale

Pour a shot of  Van Gogh Espresso Vodka

Drop the shot into the pint and pound it.

This drink is smooth & creamy with a nice coffee finish. I highly recommend it and since I couldn’t find it on the web I decided to (perhaps) be the first to post the recipe online.

ENJOY!!!

ARTIST’S MOON

the bone pearl

glowing no sheen

rabbit-ed with fossil-scapes

starring on Earth

 

vally-ed talcum

thirsty & surrounded

nothing

for infinities

 

faces shed lunatic

cast insane still

passing Sun shielded

in Gaia’s shadow

 

her waiting cold

forever breathless

shines for us.