buying time

a small company is hired by a sleepy bureaucracy to handle work the bureaucracy can't do, without the golden benefits of government, the sick days, the personal days, the vacation days, the compressed work weeks, the pension, the cash-for-life, the small company hustles and sweats to complete deliverables as deadlines shift and jerk to arbitrary and ever illusive departmental management policy,
the highly-insulated, slow-moving government machine sits high above the safety net of the public purse and remains impervious to accountability no matter the level of error or depth of incompetence...

oversights,
misplacement,
mis-communication,
misunderstanding,
their strange and habitual occurrence of "lost invoices" puts a small company in rough waters and without money owed for over 4 months,
oblivious and distracted bureaucrats soil the credibility and effort of smart, hard-working ones, as they shift blame from person to person, department to department, process to process, yet as they flounder and rationalize very simple failure to live up to a contract, the small company struggles to pay the electrical, the rent and the salaries, so as the tired company delays the pay, the workers go home to their families empty-handed.

It's unethical.

The bureaucrat doesn't hear, as he lies comfortably in the pool deck sun in his beach shorts, listening to his Ipod, eyes closed, his round oily belly jiggles and his arms dance quickly as he pretends he is the conductor of a large orchestra.

reacher

You're not invisible,
I can hear you,
I can hear you during the day,
I can hear you in the night,
your crying echoes through my dreams,
I'll see you in a glance,
and then you're gone,
I can hear your voice,
then there is silence,
I know you are out there,
and I know what they did to you,
I don't know where you are,
and I don't know when you are,
but I know what they did to you,
when they made you believe you weren't divine,

so please hold on,
I am doing my best,
and I will reach you.

burn me

city sweats in July heat,
buildings sink and wallpaper peels,
a muted trumpet plays Miles Davis,
insomniacs do laundry,
a Chinese restaurant cook has a cigarette in the alley,
steam pours from rusty pipes,
coffee is on for
street sweepers,
newspaper trucks,
drowsy cop cars,
Mr. O'Rourke from 207 is humpin' some whore,
you can hear 'em hollering and groaning two floors up
where I lie awake on an old mattress,
room lit by a neon strip club sign,
out the window,
a drunken bum sings,
a slurred Dean Martin's "Somewhere there's a someone,"
as I read an old urine stained Gideons bible,
pouring over the last few verses of Lamentations,
sweat drips as I dream of tender lovers of the past,
thick steaks and icy martinis,
it's so hot, even the angels stink of B.O.

have I gone insane?

reduced to mumblings,
head-scratching and neurotic concern,
I'm a shell of a man,
eating beans from a can,
cloaked in the driving rain,
half bottle of whiskey,
and a gypsy's curse,
I watch the fan spin,
and an ant on the window ledge,
crawling closer to my perception's edge,
think about the same problem,
from a different angle,
like celebrities flashing a hand made triangle,
a room with four walls,
a twisted fate,
a programmed construction of a god of love and hate,
did this same god create this same ant to drag a wasp ten times it's weight?

makyo bustin'

fire
wind
water
earth
birth
want
chase
stop
sit
listen
pulse
hands
breathe
see
zazen

b-side

tickle that side of me,
the one that failed miserably,
it hasn't laughed in awhile,
buy that side a drink,
rinse it's face in an icy sink,
it hasn't laughed in a while,
forgive that side of me,
a needy reaching out to nothing,
elevate that side of me,
sinking low into the sofa stuffing,
it hasn't laughed in awhile,
overlook that side of me,
got too drunk at your special dinner,
support that side of me,
that never really feels like a winner,
it hasn't laughed in awhile.

thrift shop hop

glass top patio table - 5 dollars,
2 barely used padded folding chairs - 8 dollars,
5 never-used highball glasses - 1 dollar,
sitting on my balcony,
drinking cold beer,
watching 20-something hard bodies roller blade by....

priceless.

captain of the night

sailor's sunset,
torrents of blue,
ship of the night,
tear on through,
sunset on my hopes,
storms in my dreams,
fight the undertow,
driving rain teams,
ocean of lost souls,
lucky catch ahead,
into the light,
part alive, part dead,


captain of the night,
hold course into the sunrise,
wave to other captains,
as they pass by,
heaven in their soul,
hell in their eyes.

drunk chair

wicked world,
deaf god,
wonder what to do on a summer night,
expensive girls,
country nod,
wonder what to do with the rest of my life,
climb a mountain,
run a race,
disappear without a trace,
take a course,
change my hair,
change the world,
turn cold to care,
maybe just sit here and get drunk in this chair.

the chicken man

cold may wind,
blows shadows across a big may moon,
cigarette embers glow orange,
war scars, glass eyes,
crumpled cash, white lines,
diamond rings, gold watches,
purple heart tattoos that bleed busted love red,
sweat drips,
tongues lick wrinkled lips,
butts clench, hearts jump,
flesh tightens, guts wrench,
dusty dim light, cock fight,
step aside in respectful fright,
his name is the chicken man,
you bet your baby's college,
your wife's retirement,
your last GIC,
...and if your not nervous,
you fucking should be.

saturday

hot and oily saturday sun
college beauties play badminton in bikinis
my penis goes rollerblading

zen bluesmen

"Without accepting the fact that everything changes, we cannot find perfect composure. But unfortunately, although it is true, it is difficult for us to accept it. Because we cannot accept the truth of transience, we suffer."

-Roshi Shunryu Suzuki

"Serves you right to suffer...serves you right to be alone...can't go on livin' in the past...them days...is gone."

- Roshi John Lee Hooker

do the right thing

hot nights make me think about Radio Raheem,
makes me want to fight the power with a cold beer and a tin fan,
makes me want to melt ice cubes on Rosie Perez's breasts,
makes me want to help Mooky deliver pies in the burning noon sun,
makes me want to argue with Sal over the price of one slice...one f'king slice?
makes me want to keep trying to run a business like a Korean convenience store owner,
makes me hate the other,
but makes me want to understand...
in the night,
sometimes,
words are given to me,
hope is given to me,
nerve is given to me,
I hear a voice,
it says quietly,
stand up... look at me... and tell me that you got nothing...

this is just a game,

just as quick is gone...

it don't matter then.

ice cream koan

lie, game, maze

please do not lose yourself

only one you

the neighbourhood

hydrant spray,
wet rainbows in the hot sun,
salvation of a little fun
pizza shops and chubby cops,
sewer grates and ungrateful dates,
drunks, punks,
working stiffs
and skateboard chumps,
garbage skunks, economy slumps,
johns pay money for humps,
father's father was born here,
mother's mother nowhere near,
anger and illusion,
love and fear,
healed in your hospitals,
grew in your schools,
drank your water,
smoked in your parks,
cried in your streets,
wide awake after dark,
Square Corner types a cool jazz glow,
Fish Eye deconstructs hermeneutics below,
where do all the prairie bloggers go?
Old Ollie picks the highest hand,
Graven performs the Graven band,
Unpublished Notebooks suffers traffic fools,
Noodle breaks the photographic rules,
muttering lady, pigeon's turd,
I just try to paint pictures with words,
desperate hopes,
and mediocre memories,
sunset on the tapping keys,
the "am" "did" "is" fights the "should" "would" "could,"
what you see is what you get,
if you hate yourself,
your gonna hate the neighbourhood.

barbequed chicken, barbequed heart

i stood outside in the pouring rain,
barbequing chicken,
i used a brush and lathered them with sauce,
you showed up and tore my heart out,
with tears in your eyes you threw it on the barbeque,
i picked up the brush and put some sauce on it too.

got a call

got a call from a blogger,
may sunshine, Sunday jogger,
old man, mangy dog,
pop song, captain's log,
got a call from a blogger,
down where the taps flow,
sometimes from the homestead,
sometimes making bread,
may just watch the day turn to night instead,
got a call from a blogger,
while I cataloged my sins from a broken bed,
he told me sins live on after we're dead,
I replied, "sounds like something from a birthday card,"
he said, "I'm drunk, just disregard."
got a call from a blogger,
may sunshine, Sunday jogger,
she said I didn't listen to her no more,
but I was busy getting the high score on Frogger,
she screamed, "you're ignoring me!"
I said, "stop talking, I gotta take this call from a blogger."

maybe

maybe we are all a dream...that God is having,
maybe there's no God at all,
maybe there is,
but he's a just an old man,
having a cup of coffee at the mall.










(photo by D.Neutel)

Pizza Girl

I stepped onto the elevator.
The next floor up, a gorgeous 20-something hard-body stepped on holding a large pizza.
Tight shorts, tight t-shirt and tan legs that went on for days.
The combination of her youthful beauty and the smell off that steaming pizza pie made me weak.
I said, "That pizza smells good."
"Uh...yah thanks" she replied not even acknowledging my existence.
A second later, I heard myself say, "you wanna hold my pepperoni?"
She looked at me with a look of utter disgust and fear and abruptly stepped off at the next available floor.

I'm not a perfect man.

rejuvenator

you piss me off,
I throw back a beer,
you're soaked from the rain,
I've gone insane,
you save coins in a coffee cup,
I'm a drunk with his dukes up,
your a mental jackal,
I'm an emotional alligator,
my hate will give me a heart attack,
now, not later,
scrape your knee and the skin comes back,
soul pollution,
earth pollution,
don't disrespect the rejuvenator.