Got $$$ ?

it's subliminal
or how ever the fuck you spell it
I mean the church and the $$$ signs

Send $$$

first off let me get another whiskey

denny calls me in dead of night
He's outta dough
so I'll send him some
just so's he can make the way to the Mustang Ranch
that fucker with a hard time fucken
even when all you have to do is pay for it
Well Denny's going
to heaven with a smile on his face
and me
just glad to help
hey, we all got one life
"so don't hide your love away"

Bleeding in Las Vegas

Gotta phone call from Denni Blue this afternoon, turns out he's down South in Las Vegas drunker than shit on cheep booze and no sleep. Let me tell you something about Denni, it's excess or nothing with him and he just got out of an ashram someplace in Arizona bettering his soul and tuning into some new age bullshit about vortex energy, so now he's balls to the wall whooping it up in the big city of lights with some young guy from his working days. Say's they were up all night and he can't remember much, say's he's got a cut above his eye and can't remember his hotel room number. Tells me he's going for breakfast at Hooters and suddenly he recalls picking up some ladies of the night, when he gets them back to his room he can't remember the combination to the safe and that's where his wallet is. So he wakes up alone with his buddy pounding the house keeper in the bed next to his and the lobby is phoning telling him it's check out time. So they leave that Hotel, half way ran off and check into another Casino/Hotel and his buddy runs off to some business meeting and that's when he phones me telling me he can't remember the kid's last name that they booked the room under and he's going to sleep on the table at Hooters while he waits for his food.

why

Hey Ede
you caught a crocus
april 5th
why the
fuck isn't your picture in
the paper

gone

He always thought
he was better,faster
that was till i opened the drawer
to speed
in the dust of tell tails
I see him wiping his eyes
like a frightened child

Someone To Die For

he said we all steal poetry
he said it was ok
well
where are we
all in hell
a bunch of thieves
in hell
away from my window
not the one you need
to protect you
and defend you
it aint me
your lookn' for
It ain't me babe

here

All the things that
keep me away
call me in

Like the melting ice in my glass
like Memphis
cause I didn't go

Stagger

It's 11:39
I awake with 3/4
drink in hand
it's a strong one
the smell of whiskey
reminds me of black licorise
[how ever the hell you spell it]
heartburn with ice
I dream of whiskey
and my younger years
now that's hardly a nightmare
she says
you were asleep
come back
to bed
I gotta write
it's on my mind
and nothing good
has come out of me lately
and she snores
and I write
and drink
and think
about creating
a
radio station with Bob
and all us wise asses
all us fuckers
with something
to say
everyone of my
friends who
hide
beneath the sheets
who the fuck are we
afraid of?
the loss of fucking?
Not me
I aint afraid of shit
put it all out there
the wife has heard it all
and I aint afraid of no one else
So give me some juice
when the
tap runs dry
cause
me and Ede are startn' a radio station
somewhere
deep in the bush
where
bad looks can't be seen.
So now they will
have to listen
or close their ears
cause we got a lot to say
and my ice aint melted yet

Fuck
I'm glad she woke me
as she climbed
into bed
and I'll exchange the dark
for darkness
and hunger
for pain
and booze for the one
I love
it's all in the trip

here it comes again
I got it back again
where the sky falls
I will fall
upon
broken angels wings
I'm almost young
but then
everyone was drunk on love
and the fright
of death
or better off not to think
about it
or the cause

now we work and please
for the feast of the memory
or the blue in the sky
Fuck i don't know
what to say
through all we've done bad
I know there is good in
a
drunken stagger

Scapula

Rain on the step
and
a wounded shoulder blade
an empty twelve pack

I tried so hard
to keep her in love
she was healthy
and I nearly dead

The bottle of muscle relaxant
spilled on the counter
and my will already wrote

I admit
it was I who broke her wings
and with this wounded shoulder
nor can I fly

Sick In The Dark

I'm sick of being outside
where people can judge me by size
I'm complacent to drink alone in the dark
listening to dead writers and poets.

Words

when the words dropped from my mouth
the sky stood still
and I ain't got no heartburn
it was the end of the world

Like the twang of guitar strings
or the bark of a lone dog
crying in the dark
one could hear
with out attention

You Clowns

It was way before
you clowns came to life
before you hang around clowns
before you upside down frown clowns
before the clowns went to work.

Back when
this clown felt alive
to dress and drive

Back when it was cool
for a clown to paint his face
and collect instruments
to fill the space.

Back before clowns
became freaky
and scared the
crowd away.

Old Speckled Hen

Old Speckled Hen,
Kris Kristofferson
and a big block of hash
Sunday afternoon coming down.

No water in the pond
woman with
rake in hand.
My harp has gone dry
and the paint brush
collects dust.
Work's got me with a
pocket full of cash.

The sky's greyed
I bet my friend"s up the creek
another's on the move
following my dreams South.
Fraser ain't answering the phone
And Jerry with guitar in hand,
somehow I wish I was
somewhere in between or
someplace else.

Blowin' My Harpoon

It was in Victoria town
that my harp found alive and well.
Fraser on guitar
when miracle found me there.

Raw music
in back of Lucinda.
I think Fraser said it was
on the scale of twelve
Thats when it grabbed me.
I knew it was there;
somewhere.

Not sure if it was the whiskey
or frame of mind
but that harp
came to life.

Well now I put that harp aside
and I sit quiet
For opportunity to once again
arise.

Did Jesus Shave?

She told him that he had a series of whiteheads on his nose
that were lined up like the Big Dipper.
He knew his face was aging,
the crows feet at the eyes,
his nose enlarged and red.
It was as if he was applying
at the Ringling Bros Circus,
signing up for the clown act.
He was too old for such a demanding job
and drank too much to hold a steady position.

He had a red/grey beard
that greatly increased the size of his head.
She would point this out often as well.
He had fattened.
It pained him to bend
to tie the laces of his shoes,
so he left the laces undone
so's to slip in with ease.
He had started to wear suspenders
as his belt was far to restraining.

His arms,
like the giant trunks of redwoods
and powerful from carrying a chainsaw
for all those years.
His father had left him
a tree farm, where
he worked while sober.
The pay was minimal and the toll of manual labour
had taken his father's back.

Jack had a strong back,
it had only troubled him once
and that was following a tumble
down a concrete staircase.

Why had she stayed with him all these years?
They had met when he was young
and good looking
and she was younger and better looking than he.

His thoughts were that he had caged her at a young age
and she knew no better.

More Road Pics

More Road Pics

Missing the Road

Miles and faces
all the good people
gators and good friends
times like these
worth a million words.

Every corner
holding surprise
every sunset
gold in your eyes.

Making music
reading aloud
like I've gone to heaven
like I've already died.

You already know
we had a damn good time
a better one
would be hard to find.

All the miles
in Louisiana's red dust
all the bridges
of the deep south
all that mud coloured water
washing beneath
Lucinda
the dream machine
she brings us back to ourselves.