Boo.
Halloween
What is that you’re seeing
in the corner of your eye
Stealthful foot steps following
never passing by
In the corner of the mirror
watching when you blink
It is patient and silent
and deadlier than you think
It’s biding time for years
until the time is ripe
Until you’ve grown enough
and are just the right type
When you have grown enough
to be a tasty morsel
From beneath the bed it comes
through a secret portal
In silence it is waiting
needing to be fed
Out in darkness slithering
from beneath your bed
In your sleep it comes
needing to be fed
Nibbling a tasty morsel
until you are dead
International Office Machines
Prompts of the Wild
Citizens? Really? More like consumers , if not just consumed
More, damn it.
Hitting back like a tsunami. Not fighting it, Not holding my breath, just letting it…….
Still in Hollywood
In my mind, when driving around the sunset Juction where I first saw Candye Kane, the Magick Shop, The Circus of Books, and the other places where I searched for myself, as they say. I may have been just avoiding myself as fast as I can, really, but…..
Or, a cleaner version,….
It’s a song I played with rodeo Joe at UConn, Ground Zero Radio, while I sorta lived some of my Other life while still enlisted there in Rotten Groton, CT, as a two-fisted, large walking salty dog of a submariner. Damn the music was good.
Music
Songs get me sometimes.
My life has a soundtrack that evokes images, like the Cure, or Romeo and Juliette by the Dire Straits that brings back my first close girlfriend, or Aerosmith or Guns and Roses as we drove through burning badlands on the way to Ensenada. What is yours?
Concrete Blonde gives me mixed feelings. There was a time where relationships were………… ethereal. I didn’t know if I was going to live the next week, if even the next day at times.
Heart Attack and Vine
I keep thinking about the place. I can’t help it. Those frigging gold stars, the if-you-can’t-find-it-here-you-can’t-find-it-anywhere stores. The actors and musicians hustling. The ones who made it bumming it at the Frolic (both of them). The little theaters and galleries holding on with heart, courage, and luck. The pre-goth goths emerging from within the long-hair rockers and grunge. Burlesque. Jumbo’s Clown Room. The Onyx. The Roosevelt.
It’s more than a thousand words.
This song makes me smile. Makes me shiver with memories.
Onyx typer 