dogs of war
Caligula
said the same thing
as did
Charlemagne
King George III
Hitler
Mussolini
Richard Nixon
& Saddam Hussein
they all wanted
to embark on a
fantastic voyage
of brotherhood
in the face of
hard times
but first they needed
your sons & daughters
the food from
your gardens
iron gates &
wreaked cars
to make into toys
they needed
mothers & fathers
to stay behind
& produce more
kids & policy’s
for them to hide
& their money
to hide behind
they all said
the same thing
in different tongues
that they are your friend
& things will be better
once they are in power
& we listened to them
make the promises
while starving
going to wakes
working 12 hour shifts
with sometimes
a sneer on our faces
or bright eyes filled
with dreams & lust
but those dreams
faded into the smoke
of factories
& cannons
candles & campfires
waiting for
the next savior
to charm us
with a smile
or whip
or kissed baby
too bad we couldn’t
let the leaders
in history
fight it out
among themselves
put them in a ring
with no gloves on
use their own money
to foot the bill
& leave us alone
& finally know
what it is to
grieve
living alone
a lady does not wait
for me to get home
& the beer in the ice-box
won’t get any colder
just less in numbers
I know how to cook
enough food for
myself
with nothing left over
figure groceries
per week & gas
laundry gets washed
every fortnight
five dollars & fifty cents
for whites & darks
no fatty foods
no buying CD’s
or steaks
or frivolous items
I may not dust
as much as I should
or clean the bathroom
religiously
(unless someone
is coming over)
but I don’t live
like a pig either
sometimes four walls
crowd too close
& I have to get out
& roam the city
going to those places
I know all too well
the libraries
the bars
the super markets
& it’s gotten to the point
where even the bag boys
know me by sight
but I’m not complaining
(as if someone would
listen if I did)
& for the most part
I’m happy
except I’m not getting laid
my teeth hurt
I need a steady job
& I’m loosing
too much weight
because I’m too cheap
to spend any money
or other reasons
just once I’d like to hear
breathing in my ear
late at night
find a pair of panties
behind the sofa
an email from a
secret admirer
on my computer
& just once I’d like to hear
I love you from someone
with lust in her eyes
instead of fear
living alone
has its moments
& I wouldn’t give it up
for anything
but sometimes
its like seeing your
grand kids
at least
they go home
in the morning
when what I want
is a voice to answer me
when I shout
uncontrollably
at the stupid
silent ‘phone
my boss
the guy I work for
is a dick
he tried to
fuck with me tonight
& I told him to
go fuck himself
but he persisted
& I turned around
bent over & told
him to kiss my ass
that calmed things down
for awhile & later he asked
if I would help him out
setting up molds
for the furnaces he works on
“sure”, I said
he rides a nice clean
Harley Fatboy motorcycle
a lean machine & kick ass
he is somewhere near my
age & vain as hell
I envision him
killing gooks in Vietnam
for sport
pawing huge breasts
in seedy bars
& beating his girlfriends
he’s a dick
with a line of shit
that beats mine
& I enjoy fucking with him
because he needs it
to remember
who he really is
James Dean, Bullfights & the Kid down the street
dad told her, “stay away from that guy,
he’s nothing but trouble”.
after the 1st date, he showed film
of bullfights he shot in Mexico
I was 17 & spellbound & now
it reminds me of that swirling plastic bag
in the movie “American Beauty”
he found a burned out Harley with a side car
& we made it into a chopper
I had only ridden once before –
on the pillion of a Triumph 650
at 100 mph down an English
country lane with my mothers
boyfriend, but that’s another story
when we turned the 1st corner
he zigged & I zagged
& we wound up on a tree lawn
at the Fisher Body Plant in Cleveland
we pushed it back & took stock :
nothing broken & just scraped paint
my cheap naugahyde cum leather
coat saved me from road rash
two weeks later he was gone
on the chopper to California
and reform school
my sisters heart was broken
but nothing else I know about
my dreams were shattered
of fake ID’s beer & loose women
but not the love of bikes
& now it grows again –
that wanting bugs in my teeth
a throbbing motor between my legs
& swirling plastic bags
dancing like bullfighters
in the Plaza del Sol
3rd shift
it’s really strange
coming home from work
and going to work
on the same day
just one long grind
but the bright(?)
side of it is the
three day weekends
I leave work in bright sunshine
going home in traffic with people
going to work
buying a 40 ouncer
for breakfast/dinner
relaxing in a tub
when others are showering
to get the day started
cat-napping to stay strong
what a fucking life:
being home
in the daytime &
being able to do
whatever I want
but usually
I sit at this computer
checking email & writing
sort of like being laid off
& the checks
just keep coming
but working 3rd shift
is an underground
subculture I need
to get used to
like stoners having
there own language
& secret handshakes
pull my finger & I’ll tell you
what I had for
breakfast/dinner/lunch
trouser lizards
I couldn’t teach her
to suck my dick
even though
she rented fuck movies
from the local deli
every weekend
as sort of “field work”
for her one night of sex
per week
she claimed rock stars
enjoyed her prowess
at draining the old
trouser lizard
but I think she was
an easy lay
& they didn’t want to
spoil a cheap night
I have teeth marks
to prove it because
she couldn’t remember
what she was doing
while I scarfed her snatch
time after time
in her darkened room
a man knows what
he likes &
this wasn’t it
discomfort is one thing -
as in getting your teeth pulled
or walking over
a bed of hot coals
but doing 69 & searching for
that pinpoint of light is another
she claimed she had
a bad gag reflex
after 20 years of doing it
I’m wondering who got
the full load
