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March 30, 2006
Day 5
Ive got my checks
and balances
on replay
because I cant believe
how somberly it goes
all we must endure
is the tenure
of crabs who click
at the uttermost sound
whether it be a turnover
or an offensive rebound
I had no illusions
when I stepped into the showcase
but the opinions of the lacking
are like mirrors with a preface
and burning notes by the roadside
isnt exactly what I had in mind
but I had to flee from a country
pegged upon such a vulgar design
none of this
was meant to print
I would be happy
to bury it under this glass
but what hovers over us
is unlikely to be an overpass
we've all been here
for a thousand years
though the reasons why
arent discussed among my peers
who poke out
at the moment of neccesity
and try to convince me
of my hipocrisy
Ive seen a good many
things in my path
but nothing harder
than at which I can laugh
than the fools and the pharoahs
who havent a clue
about the global integrity
of which I pursue
upon my departure
from any given dock
that rises to the seems
of the level at which I
disembark
Posted by Drexler at 08:21 AM
March 22, 2006
inside the invisible room
monkeys slobber gibberish
behind their adult masks
they can dot their I's
and cross their T's
but the strands they sew
from the common room
read like the want ads
or like gold font on recycled ribbons
worn by those to whom
such things matter
sometimes you must scratch
beaneath the surface
below the usual nickel plating
to gather an understanding
of a collage of images
not everything need be
bold faced and elementary
except perhaps for those
who can create nothing more
and therefore cannot accept
anything else
the opinions of ghosts on the internet
who hide behind monitors
and spew banality
about things they dont understand
while clapping one another on the back
for accomplishments that dont exist
except for in the hope chests of their minds
are a great way to prepare myself
for my return to a country
that is overpopulated
with such stunted growth
a people who trample
what they do not recognize
and write off
what they do not have the imagination
to comprehend
Posted by Drexler at 02:22 PM
March 21, 2006
cost of thoughtlessness
she dreams to spend her sleep
on star crossed episodes
drawn blindly from a gunney sack
wild patches sewn together
baffled bloodlines and timelines
she relays them in amused bewilderment
horizontally
sheets tortilla thin
she lies beneath
sad almond accusations
burn holes in my smokescreen
she turns curves
draws upon sunlight
barking behind the drapes
to silhouette her movements
I am nowhere
lost in empty thoughts
unreceptive to the murmur of my libido
elsewhere is the moment
peeling paint
a dangling chandelier
silver bedframes
empty bottles
I am at the bottom of the sea
she is lying on shore
her dreams are wild and colorized
while mine are pitched in obscurity
church bells ring
the ring slow and hollow
I need a ground so firm
that I am a part of it
I need a slap to the face
to lift the fog I am breathing
sedated on monotony
there is no view from the road
just eyefulls of torn earth
faces that repeat themselves
dialog that has no dimensions
I am waiting incoherently
for a wake up call
Posted by Drexler at 03:35 PM
March 19, 2006
rental car blues
I went from third in my class
to a snake in the grass
waiting on the ribbons to bow
and the sounder the skirt
the more that it hurt
my chances of landing a blow
the latest in calibrators
were the alligator haters
lighting torches just outside the mine
and I sat like a bearskin rug
ready to pull out the plug
if the take out didnt come on time
in Miami I ran into some trouble
when my credit didnt double
for the platinum all american sign
I was meditating on a train
on a platform for the inane
but I was really hung out to vine
sanskrit is the language that I hear
whenever an inquisitive national comes near
passing nails across the chalkboard within
and Im just hoping for the chance
to pull on my departure pants
and make getaway in a long capsule of tin
Posted by Drexler at 08:07 AM
the circus mold
a higher flame
beneath the kettle
produces nothing brighter
than similar results
I can fumigate the toxicity
from a nylon screen of blurred transparancies
with the sweep of an atlas
yet
the blade gleams in the sheeth
the cross has been hammered onto the bullet
the ax has found the grindstone
and every doorway is either locked
or lurking
the candlemakers
left my face to mold in the wax
we all know
nothing shall be carved
in stone
wooden sprockets in the merry go round
slop grease and tears
onto trampled bags of popcorn
after the last horse on a pole
abandoned the missionary position
overspray scratches tumbled stucko
every third light and his brother
is burned or blowed out
and the morning only produces sunlight
that paints wheat the shade of tanned hides
ashtray have been overthrown
and returned unwhole
the canvas awning sags
stoops to the level of the hamburger cart
black kittens climb urinated stairwells
serching for their echo
succumbing to the shadows
nothing grows
in places where the dying
are encouraged to do just that
Posted by Drexler at 07:51 AM
March 16, 2006
jesuit missions
beneath the arches
between the pillars
meditating on the sounds
of the static beyond the piano
virgins and martyrs
bring occasion
to deviant cross references
linking the ironic similarities
another city
another mission
floor of inverted stone
mineral murals
horses are heads
and ducks are tails
on the staircase
leading to the sideshow
and all the while
a viola plays on speakers unseen
until I discovered a dimly lit chamber
containing a youth with a bow
and a means
of filling the acoustics
with light
it swims through the damp
a champion of sound
soothing the sweat
that trickled down my neck
to the dust
the rest was just decay
and warm beer
limping dogs
competing with raggedy annes and andys
for table scraps and the bad pieces
the rest was just
mosquitos and torn screens
absent fans
and foam mattresses
that had no appreciation
for the situation
Posted by Drexler at 05:15 PM
bearded lady
recently geoerge clooney called and asked if I would grow a beard like he did in Syriana for reason unexpressed at the time.....I told him that this would mean filleting my goatee and that I would have to give it some wine.....a change, I thought, might be good, especially against a background check, I rang him back and said I would undergo the transformation ..for the usual fee.....Variety magazine called for an interview on the matter but I declined on moral grounds and a broken toenail which needed a dentist......
The Beard is coming soon
D.
Posted by Drexler at 05:09 PM
March 13, 2006
rain drops in the holdup hotel
rusted threads fail the patio furniture
and the roof moonlights as a sundial
all the gelatine hair schemes
rattle off idiocyracies
about pay per view bedmates
and the inflated prices of bottled spirits
not that they minded
the mothers milk is still warm and flowing
on the windshield were the fly by nights
they hadnt moved too quickly
and the front row overture
afforded us a view
of the motley crew
that held the keys to the cabin, motor
and coffins
for those of us who were confined
to the dragons den
pure alcohol was spun
into a botlle of pomelo
and they all slugged away
swerving at dogs on the roadside
dodging landslides in the twilight
sidewinding rugrats that crawled the highway
overstepping the skidmarks
like the steeples of antiquities
Part Duex
the heavens are converging on the mauve
over the palate of santa cruz
im hittin k-mines
and the dropouts are nothin to lose
in this drizzle and innuendo
ive got all my tiles marbled
fifteen year old rum swellin in the vat
mother nature and the plaster
are keepin my skullflap skinned
she would turn to interpol
for the inner light
but the electricity went out
and we were bequeathed with a candle
it fluttered
it littered the airwaves
our spackled
concumbine set
with waterfalls
keying on my doorstep
the lightning lent me
spectacles
for clarification
the fan is in park but running
so as not to dash the nasal decongestants
lying on a tin in the drawer
molding
fractured shadows
burst from the deformation
of the headphones
all and all
we're just
the pitter patter
the seepage
that we try to avoid
in the overpour
Posted by Drexler at 09:26 AM
March 09, 2006
rhyming is timing
I was born on a pay phone
under the oily sign of macrame
I toss smoke through the turnstiles
on the fourth block of Carondelet
braids as long as the welfare
toil in the execution line
we all pass around the box
of Better Times wine
opening biscuits with a spoon
under the swoon of a fan
but without the gravy
its like eating out of a can
the colonial chophouse
where all the duplicates sat
left me out in the cold
no place to hang my hat
seen half of the world
through the bottom of a glass
but I still take the time
to wrap and tap that ass
they say I have talent
they say I have no shame
but as far as I can see
Im still at the top of my game
Posted by Drexler at 08:43 AM
March 08, 2006
snowflakes
and what do you know
about the lyrics
to a song
that I am yet to sing?
the fountainhead struck the mullet
like a sack of snow
the cultural embrace
like the diverted angle
of a fallen eskimo
you have suitors
knocking on your door
Ive seen them here
knocking all before
should I wait
for a light to flicker
or should I make hesitate
a memory of yesterdate?
Posted by Drexler at 01:24 PM
the salt flats
residential avenida
where all the flies gather
stuck a rifle in the snow
and shot the corpus christi
straight back to the chrysanthenums
five cans of warm beer
damaged and delivered
as we crooned to the expulsion
of the baying sheep
and the tomatoes and vinegar
that stung the nerves
below my molars
the mouth of the straw lay closed
like the offices that tender the checks
and my porcelain spitoon lies as empty
as the spirit of a destitute wallet
lingering behind the stained glass
delivering the goods
but their aint no handle on my locket
just a bowl
that doesnt smoke
and the rattlesnake cancer
coiled up in my mucus membrane
playing singalong
with all the hits you've taken
riding the mule
alongside the geyser brigade
salt flat pupils
shielded by antiquated Varnets
as cracks in the octagons
fill the shovels towed
by the little men who drive bicycles
across the salton sea
the indian parade
ashambles in the road
an assortment of teeth and frontal lobes
that never formed
linger in purgatory
as the detachment of the lackees
makes the oblivious seem degenerated
in the jeep they took us
out to the ruby lake
my camera made sounds
and the wind stung my face
the wife took all the pleasure
in the view from the shore
as I coughed up stones
and cursed the flamingos for their candor
for the finale
my knees held up the scaffolding
of the dashboard
and the llamas
were left with the noise
and debris
generated by foreign interests
and overpaid folklorists
Posted by Drexler at 12:48 PM
March 07, 2006
mined in silver
the spanish painted the murals
blood lapping dogs
death from the bow
crowned from the whip
the indians traded their barter
for slavery coins
the negroes fed the furnaces
while the mules worked the wheels
all for the spanish crown
the more history speaks
the less I wish to hear
how we can look at ourselves
in the mirror each day
is a lesson in the art of
thoughlessness
Posted by Drexler at 10:30 AM