My Hair Is On Fire

July 21, 2012

My Hair Is On Fire

My hair is on fire. Smoking has all kinds of unaccustomed results. It was genetics. Not cigarettes. My hair was orange. And in the daylight, the sun and I looked like mad twins.

You’re too angry. I turned around. Maybe its cancer. In my belly. But nothing is as good as. You promised. God has a blue print. It was pinned to the dinner table. I was offered a glass of wine. And a piece of his stomach. Which made me vomit.

In the vale. My grandfather’s voice would sail. On Sunday mornings. The sweetness of his words. Were like a curse to the world that had rushed out. To watch. The crucifixion. On the hill.

My fingers are crooked. My hair is white. My children are beautiful. My wife has put her arm around my shoulder. Things will be alright. But I can’t look up. I’m still pissed.

A blind man’s cane

July 21, 2012

Writing started to become easier for me when I dropped all my ambitions. Ambition or the need to be famous/well known is battery acid for your talents. Its like preparing to go to a demonstration for some just cause and worrying about what you should wear.

I’m still pissed. And I don’t know why. There are lots of things that I hate. (Like reality shows, show business in general, the automobile, the list goes on) But its more than that. I’m disappointed. (Sound like a spoiled brat)

…………………………………………….

Acts of Levitation

Boats on the lake. Walking the tightrope. Across the horizon.

Rubens women. In two pieces. Shaking their big tits. Winking at me.

Long drive. 2 lanes of asphalt. The flats on the way to the sea. Better slow down. Just ahead of us. Pools of water. A raccoon. Drowned.

The Queen is on every quarter. Winking at me.

The British wore red coats. The French were dressed in blue. Guantanomo. Omar Khadr. Killed an enemy soldier. Ten years for not wearing a uniform.

Gone to the racetrack. Pick my losers. Fillies. Winking at me.

In the cold ground. Justice has a simple rule. Saints and tyrants. Shrews and Secretaries of State. The real king is the worm.

Sunday. At the beach. Performing various forms of levitation. I was vertical. The beautiful girls showed me a new trick. They looked right through me. Some days I think I’d have been better off. Staying in bed. A blind man’s cane. Winking at me.

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