I am currently sitting in front of two 500w Yamaha 10" PA speakers while "The Songs of Leonard Cohen" spins in the record player. I cannot describe the gravity and power of these moments. The old vinyl record hisses and pops as uniquely as Cohen himself, it has been a sobering experience. Enjoy.

A quote from my favorite Prez...

"Some of the most appealing and fascinating homes in the world are small. They may represent but little outlay and be the abode of people of moderate means, but if there dwells it fine character within it will shine forth and give to all the surroundings a touch of peace and loveliness which the most spacious palace can not surpass"

-Calvin "YOU LOSE" Coolidge

The Pre-1/1/2011 Material

If you enjoyed the ol' bit of debauch that existed before I was forced to clean up the site, e-mail me and I will send you whatever works you would like. Even if you can only reminisce a line or description; I should be able to figure out what you were talking about.

Sample:
Can you send me a copy of that song about suicide?

SURE!!!
and I send you the entire plethora of suicide songs to be sure you get the correct one... it's that easy!!!

Cheers!

The Adding MAchiNe

(an enjambed sonnet for Willy)

Like an owl, or a hawk, or an owl hawk;

Cutting the pictures below the film line -

Taking a chance, or drugs. Taking a walk.

It all adds up. It all does, in due time.

Boogeymen in every asshole’s closet.

Politicians in every asshole’s ear.

Brown -Dirty earth, right down to your vomit

This rhymes: aeronautical engineer!

Cut the coy bullshit, you know why you read!

Guilty as the last - it’s in your blood kid –

Can’t draw it out – headshot to succeed.

Spending days wrestling with the devils bid.

All this evolution, and we’re still scribes -

Still curators of deeds, until one dies.

Lune de Miel

(Inspired by a strong bottle of Melomel and

The Sleep of Endymion by Anne-Louis Girodet)

Sweet ambrosia, divine nectar of the gods.

Fallen dew of the heavens collected by the laborious

Apis genus to appease the Mother Goddess Aphrodite.

Sweetest taste- manifestation of fertility, vigor, and grace.

Healing wounds of the fallen from the long forgotten far-east,

unyeildingly frozen North, primordial South, and barbaric west.

Pyment, Metheglin, Braggot; whatever is collectively deemed best.

Ginger, juniper, coriander, sage, chilies, rose pedals, cinnamon rods,

elderberries, cherries, vanilla, orange peel, blackcurrants, and yeast.

We choose and gather meticulously the elements to make a meritorious

drink. Sweetest taste- prognosticating transmutation; converging in a vase,

careful as always to stir nimbly, keep from the sun, and aerate lightly.

Libations are poured for the Mother Goddess rightly.

Wassail! Our mazers full of gold- we are blest;

Sweetest taste- ceremonies: swine, herbs, tubers, and dace.

We celebrate the season and surviving the daemons odds.

Our spirits still strong, our lands still home, victorious

we are, communal; we share our love and feast.

I have seen my people indulge when they should have ceased.

I have seen all become fools, both brittle and mighty,

no matter what they have seen, both horrible and glorious.

The insatiable are sinners, be wise what you ingest.

A glutton can never taste the wine, no matter what his facades,

but the reserve are intoxicated merely at the thought of a taste.

We teach restraint, lest more trials we may face.

Let all men be civil, wise, and non-beast,

Let all women love, be liberated- strong as Pernod.

At night we’re watched over by Selene the almighty.

Under her full watch, we have our ritual and rest,

through all our struggles we will prevail victorious.

Oh glorious honey, all man you appease.

Sweetest taste- to ground those flighty.

Here we are, so blest. Man through Mead, coupled with gods.

Authors Note: Whoever had the idea to create this daunting fucker known as Sestina should be shot!

Fishbowl

I have known the methodical torment of the cell,

a eons of dead men chip away in the stratum of paint,

cold hard steel embedded in cold dead cement,

permanence; it closes in upon blood, spirit, and flesh;

here, the white institutional hum of fluorescent will kill,

issued wool blankets, issued roll of five hundred sheet single-ply,

They wipe Their ass with you, fear the jingling of freedom's keys,

They fence in fiends and the ferocious fallen forever.

And I have seen the predatory black eyes of men forced to hunt,

they stalk the waters of the plastic populated cafeteria areas,

they swim through the waves of grass and the sands of asphalt,

Guards, in Their ornaments play the Phoenicians of these seas,

man, not sharks, suffocating, secluded; in a Phoenician sea.