another day i wake up on the couch alone
no one owes me anything
i owe no one nothing,
there’s nothing to do
but fill my belly so i won’t go hungry-
i stare at images
watching & letting life pass me by,
everything i’ve lived
is nothing but a memory
i can’t put my arms around…
my longing is meaningless
next cums death.
everything everyone is a
mirror a still lake
holding a reflection,
everything that is holds us up
we hold everything,
on my couch right now
on west 25th
warm & safe,
i am a mad woman in the gutter
raided by visions
that drive me mad,
i scream silently
as i sell my ass for a slice
of pizza,
everything & everyone
is a reflection of each other
the ceo mad is a flickering
of the mad man singing to himself
laughing wildly
looking for a fix,
everything & everyone is
a reflection & mirror of each other-
when we hold the reigns
let the past turn to ash
& create something new & unseen…
every voice should ring till every thing
we have been taught to be true
shows its true self,
we should see ourselves as ourselves
not from the eyes that were forced upon us
by this shite system that we drown within-
see the reflection
shatter the mirror
rearrange everything till we see authentically
to be able to breathe freely
for once.
when i masturbate
i want my cock
to blossom into a vagina
i forget everything about my life
& i am born new
out of this cocoon
that i chisel out of
to be free
as me,
when i masturbate.
her eyes echoed fires
of unheard letters
drippingly beating upon my heart
as i was asleep in her
lap,
she wrapped her arms around me
puffing on a cigarette
blowing the smoke away phrom me
blowing the smoke away phrom me
blowing the smoke away phrom me,
her eyes echoed fires
of unheard musical notes
that formed operas
only for me as i slept
in her lap
she puffed on a cigarette
blowing the smoke away phrom me
blowing the smoke away phrom me
blowing the smoke away phrom me,
her eyes echoed fires
as she stared down at me
before she lit another cigarette
she kissed my head & my lips
as i was asleep in her lap
phrom a night of heavy drinking,
her eyes echoed fires
her eyes echoed fires
her eyes echoed fires
that set me free
she wept the tears away
as i slept in her lap
lighting another cigarette
blowing the smoke away phrom me
her eyes echoed with fire! !!
memories filled with illiterates getting jobs
without having skills
they learned on the job,
memories filled with the RTA Stations
being filled with crew every 10-15 feet,
there was a guy at the West Blvd Station
during the school bus strike in 82/83
that gave me half his sandwich
everyday,
he just talk to me ’bout
till my train got there,
i might not remember his name
but i remember his kindness,
there were also talks of older women
being left to eat cat food,
i remember going to flop houses
downtown with FOOD NOT BOMBS,
rooms were like a $100 a week
in 1996,
now there’s no flop houses
a handful of shelters,
barely any religious institution open for the
homeless in the city of Cleveland,
reminds me of Los Angeles
with all the nowhere places for drug addicts
that don’t give ppl forever homes
just in & out
out & in,
the cycle goes round & round
for someone profit-
i remember being in the
mean streets of
Rocky River &
North Royalton,
just calling around for a job,
get one washing dishes
after school,
the day Cleveland died
was the day of white flight
to the suburbs,
or was when the steel & gas jobs
dried up,
or was it the auto jobs leaving-
or was it when the river caught on fire…
there’s new apartment being put up
on West 25th
& in Tremont,
but the soul is gone
but the soul is gone
but the soul is gone,
there needs to be a place for
artists, junkies, poets
to live on nothing
but there own suffering,
we need places where
young minds can grow
the school systems of Cleveland
have been shite
since ever before
i shat my pants
in second grade,
i’ve had the distraction of summer camps
i’ve had the distraction of running across the highways
i’ve had the distractions of pulling fire alarms on the street
walking to Cudell Park to play alone with my toy gun
& the cops drive me home
again & again & again,
the day Cleveland died for me
was when angelic Angela walked away
in 1995
leaving me to rot
because i wouldn’t be with her
nor touch,
because of the differance of our ages-
wut was good for our ancestors to survive
wasn’t good enough for her,
she will always be my QUEEN
i will always be her CLOWN
in our own private tragimatic
DIVINE COMEDY,
like a lighthouse broken,
i leave the light on
for her to pull through the door
& crawl in bed with bed me
night after night after night…
if i haven’t said these last 456
words have brought to you by
KINGSBURY WINE,
KINGSBURY WINE made with
homeless drunken junkie urine
for that extra KICK! !!
i am locked in the lighthouse
you left me in
27 years ago,
i leave the light on
as i get fish drunk
on the rocky river,
i’m no hero in our tragimatic duo
divine comedy,
there will be times
i walk a cow down Lake Road
in Bay Village
barefoot in the snow,
i have searched aphter death
so many times
since you walked away
with my heart,
O angelic Angela, my Beatrice
I did wut i thought was best,
you deserved more than me,
i couldn’t hold you down
you deserved more than me,
i had to let you go
for you to find yrself,
the city of Cleveland
was always to sdrawkcab &
Puritan for free souls like us
at 1008 Fairfield in Tremont
in 1995,
i’d go barefoot to the store
to liberate Mtn Dew
fruit pies & cigarettes-
i’d live in houses in the Greater Cleveland area
with more than 6 women,
we’d catch mice without a
hunting license…
we were living free &
on the edge,
i saw wut everyone else was doing
but couldn’t do the same
my angelic Angela, my Beatrice,
now yr 2014 miles away
the same distance i felt when i
walk barefoot to yr bar
& see you smoking cigarettes,
i wanted to say hello
my soul sent you smoke signals,
but i couldn’t even throw the rock
i had in my hand
as the other hand was filled with a
flopping fresh Perch suckling on a bottle
of Jack Daniels,
that was the last i saw you
that was the last time i saw you,
that was the last i saw you-
i went down to the lake
on a sunday with multiple women
wearing patent leather shoes,
we got fish drunk
& fished for whales,
sundays are a good day to fish for whales
with 6 women
who wearing patent leather shoes,
i guess i like to live life on the edge
i guess i like to live life on the edge,
i guess i like to live life on the edge-
i am no hero
in our tragimatic divine comedy
my angelic Angela, my beatrice
now yr 2014 miles away
i live in an old folks home
on west 25th
only 100 feet phrom where
The Dead Boys
wrote NOT ANYMORE,
ppl walk by window not knowing
who i am,
i’ve been a zombie for decades
since you walked away
since you walked away
since you walked away,
because i said i wanted to wait
you know how blandly puritan
Cleveland, Ohio is-
you were turning 16
i was going on 21,
North Royalton couldn’t handle me
wanting to take Cosmetology classes,
they also couldn’t handle rumours
of me wearing a frilly dress
to prom,
our separate familias
would’ve lost their minds,
just because our friends were
doing it
just because it worked for our
ancestors
doesn’t mean you didn’t deserve better,
i would have been yr angel of the morning
instead of mourning all this time,
i had to harden my heart
i jumped off the Tremont Bridge
onto a couch in the back of a pick up truck
aphter the Marines/Air Force/Navy/Army
all rejected me
the day you walked away,
i was so bored i drank bleach-
i went to west 98th
i ran across the highway
back & forth
like i did when i was a child,
even death wouldn’t have me
aphter i let you walk away
aphter i let you walk away
aphter i had to let you walk…
away.
there was no use in having a
sword fight,
gun fight or
Agni Kai-
some how’d i win-
i’d end up at some cafe barefoot
in Strongsville reading Catch 22,
or driving barefoot in Fairview Park
excessively honking my horn,
just wanting to be in yr arms again-
this town is my town
but nothing feels right
’cause yr not around-
i’m still locked in the lighthouse
you left me in
as you walked away
at 1008 Fairfield in Tremont
angelic Angela, my BEATRICE…
my heart bleeds no red or blue blood
for i am a zombie
just wasting away
& decaying,
i will sometimes go down to the lake
Rocky River
& get the fish drunk
listening to The Cure
& Air Supply in the dark,
alone-
angelic ANGELA, my BEATRICE
you are my QUEEN
i am yr forever CLOWN,
i leave my door unlocked
with my light on
just in case you feel like showing up
to turn the light off
& crawl on the couch with me,
i’d sleep on the floor
iph you felt uncomfortable,
i see you in everyone
i pass,
where ever i have been,
i hear you in every song
in the laugh of the crowd
as i tell jokes
on stage,
i told at christmas time 2021
that it was always you,
now i just wait for death-
O Angelic ANGELA, My BEATRICE
i’m not the hero in our
tragimatic divine comedy,
we will meet again
some how
some way
in this finite existence,
i try to numb myself
but nothing works,
now just shooting up
pregnant horse urine…
one day to live in a cave alone
with 46 cats,
on the banks of Lake Erie
getting drunk with fish,
fishing for whales on sunday-
limited on time
limited on words
only 117 words to go,
i will leave with you this
this poem has been brought to you
by KINGSBURY WINE…
KINGSBURY WINE made with
Drunken Homeless Junky URINE
FOR THAT EXTRA KICK! !!
if the limits are set for you
then you can never define yrself,
if wut goes left unsaid
is left to the dead
than a part of us is dead,
we as individuals must look
at life in how see fit
without hurting others,
but no sexuality should be defined
by genitals that an individual is born worn
nor should emotions
or dreams on life,
the body already cums with its
own limitations
in shape & size
let alone where
one is born
& shade…
if wut you think you desire is based on genitals
then yr limiting yrself,
especially in dress
& emotions-
in the action of sex the only limitation
is not forcing another
& keeping a good age rage-
the lies of the past
have to decay with
ashes of the past,
no one should be forced to be with another
because that would be the only way for them to get
clothes, food, a bed-
there cannot be freedom if there is no choice
in surviving this momentary existence-
we can’t play pretend
& not think we
as the united states
don’t do anything-
we can’t have our arms
in anything & everything
for only a few to profit
as we have ppl starving
not getting adequate water,
education ,food, culture-
we can’t play pretend
as we have military bases
scattered around the world
like chicken pox
playing contact the dots
with measles & covid-
we can’t play pretend
what are we holding to
if we can’t hold ourselves
to the microscope?
we can’t play pretend
with ourselves
throwing our shit
to the next generation,
we can’t play pretend.
there i walked
from darkness
to light,
i was in a pink
silk satin gown,
face made up
like i was walking a corner
at night,
i came across a wall
with ridges & lines
it was white
there was a hole
to the otherside,
i put my hand in it &
another hole
emerged out of nothing
into something…
i crawled through it
to see LADY GAGA
singing to me,
i teared upon a spec
on a table
& a baby grew
crawling away,
i drip to ash
falling in cracks as the baby
dances upon me to
never heard music.
no joy in anything
no joy in audiences
no joy in seeing anyone
no joy in being around
no joy in creation
no joy in being
no joy in waking up
no joy
no joy
no joy
no joy in trying
no joy in doing
no joy in being
no joy
no joy
no joy
no joy in anything
no joy in nothing
no joy in the inbetween
no joy
no joy
no joy
no joy in balance
no joy in memories
no joy in saying hello
no joy in screaming
no joy in being still
no joy in joy
no joy
no joy
no joy
no joy in coming
no joy in being held
no joy in moving
no joy
no joy
no joy
Nothing is Permanent 