$$$'s in Hand

wanted a hooker
didn't have the doe
buddy says
go give it a throw
down the block
round the corner
they pay for you
to play the horner
so there I was with cause
in hand
with nowhere
for the whore
to stand
I flipped the pages
and pulled
to a tune
They threw me out
said I made too much noise
that's the last time
I'll try to sell my boys

Olympic Flame

I thought I smelled of shoe polish
but it was fish
it was all around me
last nights dinner
and it worried me.
The Olympic flame
was to pass through town
in the AM
and I
would smell like fish.
I might be caught on fire by the torch
or attract dogs
or even horny old men.
Certainly, the entire celebration
would fall at my feet.
They would all stare
even my grandmother in heaven
would scorn me
in proper British tone
The ice would melt
and the flame would go out
in the six feet of water.
The crowd would roar in
frustration and humiliation
and I will have killed it all
by smelling of shoe polish
although it was really
fish they could smell.

Tonight

And he left
with her panties
stuffed soggy
and
smelly
in his back pocket
with
a smile on his
face
and pride
in his
step

Helter Skelter

She bends
to blast vocal scream
howling
pushing her pelvic
to be eaten
by the hungry crowd
she moves my skin
rippling
like her hair
throwing her hips
into a voo-doo trance.

The Classifieds

The newspaper
I sit to read
the houses for sale
the girls for tail
the chimney services
and cleaning services
the floor refinishing
and installations
window cleaning
and window cleaning
and dreaming
and how to dream
and drag queens
and mobile parks
and electrical sparks
and how to stop a fire
how to spot a liar
duplexes and storage space
cars domestic
and auto finance
rooms for rent
lower suites
and autitoriums
multi storage
and the lung association
join the fight
stay up all night
and cancer collection
and how to give
an ox an erection
where to go shopping
and selling
cattle droppings
how to look young
and retain your age
the AA meetings
and holiday greetings
how to kill your wife
and funeral homes
where to shop
for garden nombs
and finally
Bob's little recipe
on how to get through life

Feeling Good

Pubic tuesday is dead and gone
it's nearly thursday
with no word
The phone rings
all have drank
themselves to sleep
in the mild
January heat.
Not me I drink alone
just getting started
from our bed she says
"that's nice"
it's the way I farted.
Oh who will give
a rats ass to hear of this
it's not about my wife
it's the poetry I miss.
She likes it
says its good
man it's all about feeling good

River Banks

Face silhouette
sudden dark hair
her name graces
the river banks
"Delta", I call from my
bottle of beer
I can hear her
strumming song
"When it comes to faces
why are they always made
to look like someone else.
When it comes to personality
they can leave it on the shelf.
From the first light
on the river banks
till the last train passes
in the setting sun
When it comes to faces
why are they always made
to look like someone else"

tonight

I'm ecstatic and elastic
with my underware and my old
Odd Jobs T
drinking and listening to raw Bukowski
and drinking
and falling
falling away from today
and tonight

Manifest your destiny

who are we and why are we here?
I mean really what are we here for
to be recognized for something we've achieved along the way
or something we strived for,
something we half completed or something we wanted to do
I don't know if it's mid life or my zodiac
but I question all of that.
Is it all something someone will say at our funerals
or a reputatation for one thing or another?
something we've left behind
All I know is that it seems I am trying harder now
to identify myself than ever before.
Not the many outlets through the free time I have
but one thing, just one explanation
will it ever come
and who will I be?
Will it be the things I tried to hide
Will it be something that's died
will it be the fact that I never figured out
or just the stuff I left out
Will it be something I've forgotten
or will it be something rotten
Will it be all the weight that I've gained
will it be a song that I wrote
will it be a bag that I held
or a story that I've told
A friend I never met
a debt I never paid
or a girl I never
got to know
all I know is I'm uncertain
why I'm alive
and what I'm to do
it's a shame
I have not a clue.

Appledale

In reading Big Sur, I'm reminded of my own beatnickish past of bumming round Winlaw and that great little city called Nelson, years back with Fraser and that Shtinner dog of his. Him always with guitar in hand and me with tea. Sleeping on the cold old cabin floor huddled next to nothing and dreaming of East Indian girls in my sleep.. And running into Tara on the streets of Nelson, her tall and beautiful. talking about a party she is going to in the valley, that turns out being the very floor on which I've been sleeping in that cold cabin out near Winlaw. Fraser's brother has gathered jars of weed and guys and girls and is unannouncedly bringing them to surprise us in the day of cold spring, When we rendez-vous back out the valley with open bottles of wine and Nelson's best tall beers Fraser's old Chev with armstrong steering slowly bending way through the Koots with van loads of people in tow, rounding the same corners wondering why Fraser's driving so slow, him with Shtinner licking his face standing tall in the middle of that bench seat breathing fog onto the window and me trying not to get too much of his hair on me hoping to get close to one of these beautiful girls of the Kootenays. Blowing harp into the warm West Koot evening with the fire blazing and the little condemned cabin busting at the seams with joy and happiness and Fraser lands some honey while strumming that old guitar as people sing Grateful songs and night falls deep as morning rounds the corner all but I have partnered up and I sleep dreaming of East Indian women. The smell of burning tea and coffee in the morning and slow moving people arise to the new day blessing the spring morning sun we run to the river and I jumping in on March 26, and swim two full strokes beneath, arising to turn solid pink on the frozen edge of the Slocan River down in Appledale not far from that condemned cabin that by nightfall will be cleared of all other than Fraser, that Shtinner dog and I, as people have all hitched rides back to that grand little city of Nelson with bellies full and minds at ease. I stoke the fire as Fraser asleep on his bed and I nestle into my corner huddled next to nothing, to dream of my east Indian Goddess.

Sweet Rags

He's become comfortable
in that
black pullover top
What would complement that mess of hair
would be some real tattered
sweet rags
and a sage cigarette
a bottle in his hand
and a book in his pocket
A hobo at heart
a drunk by night
and a rambling pain
Tired and old
before his time
Studying the greats
Bukowski, Tom Waits,
William s. Burroughs and Hunter S.Thompson
Kerouac and John Steinbeck
Drinking scotch
and Cockspur rum.

Follow the tracks South

Put on my old hobo coat and grabbed my pack
filled with beer and wine
Left the mill site in Radium at 12:30
The snow was deeper on that end
as I tried to get a rhythm walking
skipping every second rail tie
never got it right
so I traipsed on out of sync
Met four trains in all
three going South
and one Northbound
3:30 made it to the steel bridge
where cold industrial steel grips me
pulling at my alcoholic tendencies

Brawlers

I'm looking for Brawlers
she said,
referring to Waits album.
You wanna brawl
he said,
it comes in a small silver flask,
I'll give you brawlers,
as he stumbles into
the door jam
bruising his cheekbone.
Fuck off
she says,
you're drunk on that strong wine shit again
and you smell like ass.
Ask me no questions
I tell you no lies
he replies,
taking a hit from the flask.
Kerouac says or should I say
Dean Moriarty says,
we are all walking around with dirty azzes
so that's why I smell like azz
Come back and love me, dirty azz me,
oh I bet you have a dirty azz too,
and you wont even share it.
Well you know there is more of the same
dirty azz
across the tracks.
I'll probably fall down
and freeze to death out there
looking for it,
but will you care?
Will you give me some
dirty azz?
No I'm looking for "Brawlers"
she replies,
slamming shut the studio door behind her

Go

let's go
everything goes away
lets get away
let's get away today
let's go before
the night falls
before the cops call
let's go away before
the front man falls
let's go away

When The Train Passed Over

I wish I had an old iron bed
beneath the steel bridge
where I could lay with her
along side a hobo fire
making love in the late
December afternoon
Instead I venture there alone
to drink alone
aside the rivers frozen edge
At 3:30 the train screaming loud overhead
He said I could get myself in trouble with
that 19% Madeira
Turn a man into a wino
You gotta hold it in your mouth
till your tongue starts to sting and sweat
Till the pain fades
then reach for a beer or that
little bottle of wine in my pack
it's a matter of fact
gunna jump that train if it slows
but it rolls on by
with my harp blowing in the falling snow

Ode to Lauri

Somewhere between crying and coming
she slipped away
Sharp as a needle prick
Stubborn as a record skips
Thinking about leaving
she slipped away
Like a leaf drops from a tree
she slipped away
And God said "Let there be light"
And she slipped away into that light
Then into the dark
into a corner alone
She
Like a rock along side the train tracks
Like the shriek of train breaks
Like nicotine stains and broken glass
Like stress sweat on a pillow case
Don't push her away
Watching her eyes roll to the back of her head
like she had already gone
like she was already dead
Coughing into the toilet bowl
Hanging from a stripper's pole
You can see her footprints
blowing across
the blueprints of life
That's when you realize
all the hurtful lies
And you want her back
but she's slipped away
all away
all the way

Party Time

How about those christmas parties?
What I see is that it's place to humiliate ones self
A place where people drink with work mates, not friends.
Where tensions arise and scuffles begin
A place where the bosses wife slow dances with some party crasher
A place where the same lady flashes her tit's
A place where the new guy's girlfriend gets supper drunk and talks to someones pregnant tummy
following the bump around like she's ready to lick crotch.
A place where shovels fly, nearly laming the drunkest guy's wife
A place where excess of free booze and food out weighs common sense.
A place where one says things they wish they hadn't
A promise they can't keep
And return home to pass out falling on the toilet's edge bruising the cheekbone.
So have fun if your going
I'm self employed so I'll stay home.

The Sky Has Lifted

They say you can't bullshit a bullshitter
I beg to differ
The doctor says I can't drink coke
well put it with rye.
They say you weigh more when moving fast
well the lake cracks behind me
They say heads up
when something falls
I can tell now this is what it's like
to bullshit a bullshitter

Talk

The low sky brought him down
we talked about unloaded guns
the best guns, ones that could do no harm
we talked about old times
but we never talked about what was really going down
I didn't want him to go, there were cold beers out the door
The next morning the sky lower than the previous night
We should have talked about what was really going down

Home-School

Went up the rock for a home-school field trip
outdoor hoboing 101
The kid's a natural

The Shape of Things

Have you ever just sat in the calm darkness?
it's warm and calm
When he drove by in the cold December eve
the house was black as the ace of spades
it worried him knowing of Jack's state
Inside Jack watched the lights pass reflected through the window
It was calm inside, the anger had rounded into calm depression
life was easy to read alone in the darkness
Jack could make out the shape of his beer cans
each fell at his side
like dead soldiers
into the warm calm darkness.

Haze

Jack was miserable and unhealthy
there wasn't enough booze to haze life's disappointments
The content feelings were gone
there was nothing to cry about
other than the fact of being miserable and unhealthy

Height of Land

He stood there at the high spot where the roads intersected
Tough as nails
pissing at the edge of the Ford
Bending in the North wind
tipping the bottle back
That's when the truck sporting official officiality slowed
"That son of a bitch stops and I"ll make sure he wished he hadn't"
He, tall as a house and strong as an ox.
But I knew the official was packin' heat
True that!
The faulty move was when Tall and Slender dropped his licence
to the snow covered ground.
It became surreal.
The official bent to retrieve
Tall and Slender reached for the loaded holster.
He was quick to draw
as authority fell to the ground
Blood melted the snow
and I'm certain
that son of a bitch wished he'd never stopped.

A Day I Can't Forget

Went to the natural hot springs today, the sign reads "No Alcohol, No Nudity". There was a decade when I was naked more than clothed, back when I was proud. So at the present the sign didn't bother me, other than the bit about the booze. So we pack up the swim trunks and head off down the trail. Mid way, we notice nakedness. There had been five vehicles in the parking lot of which the occupants were naked in the pools along side the river. Beautiful I thought, natural beauty. When we reach the stone surrounded pool one of the group asks me in a deep tone if we mind the bare skin. I replied that I had been naked a great deal of my life as to reassure her of no offence. We mingled with the group as we enjoyed the warm waters, the girls sitting next to me were quite striking and the petite ethnic girl to my side was outgoing saying who would be afraid of a little bit of skin. Seemed they had been there a long while and were preparing to leave. I couldn't help but to have one last look at all this natural beauty prior to them heading back to Banff. That's when I took recognition that the one with a deep tone was quite manly, she had tits that didn't quite form nipples of substance. As she rose to leave I had come to expect a dick hanging there, What I witnessed was not for the weak of heart. There it was this open gape of a hole impossibly open, presenting it self not only to me but to us all. It was there where a cock once hung, yet it was quite obviously gone. Now that was far from natural beauty.
The smell of sulphur coming off the water, a slight hangover and foremost this gapesight triggers my gag reflex as water fills my eyes.
Haven't been to these springs for twenty years and now I'll wait another twenty until reconstructive surgery improves.

sorry about that

Good Old Times

Trying to talk the wife into a three-way
with Dr Ruth
oh how she could talk us through multiple orgasms
all wrinkled wet and sticky
she'd own the bed
she could mix us Rob Roy's and other old-fashioned drinks
sex toys in her arthritic hold
taking turns changing her Depends
now that kicks the shit outta anal sex

Coming Through the Cold

He rose through defiance
yet with no lack of judgement
His considerations admirable,
justified and premeditated.
The climax went unnoticed.
The cold venture through life
a milestone unreceived.

Whores in Sunlight

Lost like a whore in sunlight
Like an upholsterer with nothing to stuff
A poet with no words
A drunk with no booze
A fire with no flame
A honeymoon without shame
Lost in time with no clock
tick-tok

Can't Sleep

Insomnia and a few of my favorite things
Motorcycles,travel and booze
I'm awake since 3:30
drinking and reading old issues of Canadian Biker
I can't sleep because I am mentally going over all we need for this winter's travels
Then I realize something my friend mentioned
"take your bike along for when you get the urge"
Don't know if I'll do it or not, but the thought of bringing along even Athena's 250cc sounds good at 4:00am
I think it's like an uncureable disease
all of it
riding, traveling and drinking
what kind of meetings should one seek out for such turmoil?

Flames

Burning barn logs from
the Old Calcutt place
history in flames
those pieces will burn all night
hauled them away from the barn I dismantled
10 years ago
not an inch of rot
they burn like coal
must be nearly a 100 years old
felt guilt burning history
but the carpenter ants
had them in thier sights
didn't know what to do
so I took a couple cans of beer
and a bottle of wine
to watch them burn
in my grandmother's barrel
out back on the wrong side of
the tracks
where the hobo's enjoyed the heat.