May 16, 2005
the monitor (7/2003)
we look to the videography
for approval
the monitor lies
but it tells us
what we need to know
cushions our
tender embrace
our shuffled
moments of passion
I prefer
lovers lane
in the back alley
the ravaged flesh
the unbridled passion
the skirts
that have no hard time
gathering
when I kiss
your mouth
the wonderland of fortune...
the hiatus I take
from the rest of the world...
the place that we frequent
when those who lie
lie lazy
and allow us to drift
I love you
for the freedom you allow
for the words that you speak
into my ear
like the realization
of a dream
like the answer
to my prayer
if there is any justice
my love
then this tempered affair
will remain undisturbed
Posted by Drexler at 05:21 PM
Hencho en Venice (5/2003)
its only when I walk
down Speedway
or am riding my bike
along the boardwalk
after dark
that I giggle like an otter
how much I love this place
when all else
fails like usual
there is still my city
to keep my spirits soaring
Venice, my dear
is the only sanctuary
worth coveting
she trickles down the vine
into my glass
whenever it is running
on empty
she is the lady that I
will never cradle
but at least shall
treasure in my eulogy
the rest,
hookers, sloths, dissidents;
they can gather the carnage
from the summer crews
remains
I will balance the historics
and straighten the B&W photos
neatly inside the appropriate columns
as long as there is some 80 proof sludge
to keep my mind
fuzzy around the edges
never will I
do anything newsworthy
but at least I was a part
of an era
a time and place
that was as irresistible
as it was irrepressible
Posted by Drexler at 05:10 PM
the art of communication
we are busy either
polishing each others brass
or
tiptoeing across eggshells
when serious inquiries
are unholstered
every response or offering is a mixed drink
watered down
no one goes for the shot glass solution
the sugarcoated pill
band-aids with purple dinosaurs on them
are more the modern method
for most ages and wages
perhaps thats why I fail
with the female populace
they dont expect what i give
and I expect nothing less than what I offer
but asking for the truth
with a poker face
is calling your own bluff
the results end friendships, marriages
and other harmonious illusions
when someone you love
asks for the truth
be sure not to mistake it
for what they really want
and once youve settled on what that is
orchestrate it as gracefully as possible
the truth is the disfigurement
best kept beneath a robe
Posted by Drexler at 05:02 PM
Chilito Brigante
brewin a batch of chili
with the fundamentals to go
I sparkalize a bowl
and let the current tow
theatre in the forest
dramatizes the inner city
the abcess of people
make the cynicism seem witty
or witless
depending if youre on thier hit list
my greatest hits
have yet to be recorded
yet the image of the facts
appear to be distorted
Ive got alligator boots
and a hat mad of straw
mermaids got crabs
to hand over a claw
or two
or two times four is eight
as I run out of time
to conjure up a date
that states to the effect
that I was home alone
when my car drove itself
into a cellular phone
Id botch the pattern
or whatever you wanna call it
if my belly were as empty
as the ass end of my wallet
see you in the river
I'll see you in the bed
I'll see mercury on the sundial
dancing around like the dead
Posted by Drexler at 04:43 PM
memoirs of a wilting
it was not my own crime
but one which I had acquired
I traded the rights to my mid thirties
for six weeks on the road
with a woman who was
already spoken for
she wore one of those, rocks
on her finger
that
was the first, and last
thing we sold
it resides
in a pawnshop,
a few acres outside of
Albuquerque
I had a dufflebag
and a camera
she had about the same
or maybe a little more
those type of details
were not
what I was paying attention to
her skirt rose
and fell back high
with the guidance of my able bodied hand
the sunlight hit places
it had not previously reached
and she reached a place
that was famous
for its shooting stars
this was to go on
for weeks on end
under the various guises
of stralight
sunlight
moonlight candlelight
we robbed liquor merchants
of their finest wares
and rewards
with my shiny silver pistola
and sped away
in her cool blue machine
like a tidal wave
later
the retina of the desert
focused on the dusk
and blended the elements;
creating one hell of a photo
which of course
I took
evevrything was in its right place
we had no time
to even draw breath
it was a precaution
we had agreed upon
if only
to forestall the event
of waking up next to
a disappointment
or the reality
which waited for us
underneath headlights
and obligations that we had burned
on the fire
our second night out
gas is cheap
compared to chains
that most folks
secure to thier souls
I think the road ahead
stretches farther back
than it is obliged to reciprocate
at least that
is what we are hoping for
Posted by Drexler at 04:21 PM
minarets
turn my back on the sunset
only to be confronted by the moon
by the glow of displaced light
reflected on mirrored eyes;
the faces of minarets
rows of brick and cinder
ribs filled with starlight
entertain the coming dusk
tidy hurricanes whip the sand
furnishing the seagulls
with nervous tendencies
gold tassels dance chipperly along her shifting balance
copper tones and silken curves
annihilate common sense or chilvary
smoke strings itself through the windows crease
wisps along the senses trail
ignites some mid summer afternoon ideas
here
in the dead calm of winter
Posted by Drexler at 04:14 PM
wooden boxes
felt ribbons
lying on a grave marker;
strictly regulate my double standards
sworn to sobriety
toast it with a shotgun shotglass
negligee satin touch
virgin skin alluding to wet apint
organized mayhew, calculated clutter set aside
luckily no one pays as much attention as I
to the dirt beneath my fingerprints
to the cowardice behind the wisp of my smile
the absence of echoes, of voices
fill the canyon inside
draw silence from the heavens
these thefts in my heart
sever any hope of sunlit afternoons
by draping themselves over
the skylight to my soul
if only an utterance of relief
were a memoir
rather than something
to aspire to
Posted by Drexler at 03:57 PM
whisky and the wetlands (9/2003)
shadows writhe under the tarmac
a concrete sky
bolted secure by the approach of autumn
I line my glass with Bushmills
drop down into the unemployed position
and watch the disolve occur
the sunlight
the moonlight
wax figures in motion
pigeons contemplating a dialog
with a plastic owl
nothing lasts longer
than the waitng room blues;
the lateral movement
(still months away)
weighs against the wallet
the lining in both it, and my liver
are enough cause to pause for a refill
the woman i love
leaves me with good liquor and dope
she knows there is more than one way
to distract
the motion sickness that I incur
whenever the wheels
dislodge the rust
and begin to turn
she knows other things
without me having to paint them
under my eyelashes
or on my tombstone
it is easy
to love a woman like that
one day
this will all be murky
and I
will be far removed
from it
sipping on someone else's finest
sweating it out on a weathered couch
losing daylight
as I try and decide how far
the clock will turn
before I decide to tune it out
like everything else
Posted by Drexler at 03:47 PM
into the blue
so, one last fraud
a final diversion
from the tomb
even though
it is yet to be shaped
tomorrow, vows are taken
consequences are exchanged
and full speed ahead
into the blind night
stroking our dreams like a tender child
headlong into the challenge
a voyage for two
into the open air of life
Posted by Drexler at 02:28 PM
thermograph
take down the window dressing
take off that confusing skirt
all I need is a bottle
and a spiritual guide
to lead me through
your mechanics
to solve this
continental drift
its cold in this bitch
and Robert Johnson aint comin through
too clear
on the transistor sound
vodka and the sale tag juice
will waddle me through
comin in here
wrapped in your burnt ivory towel
reading this trash
kissing my mouth
in spite of it
I'll wrap my paws in petals
if it makes you feel any safer
down here in the dark
behind these mile high windows
cracked panes and all
last night
the parade ran through the streets
we guzzled down the concoctions
and snatched up some memorbilia
I flashed off some frames
for the people in the mailboxes;
spread far and wide
back in the zone
we no longer occupy
Posted by Drexler at 02:19 PM
the zombie
using my cock
as a coaster
isnt exactly
what I had in the works
for the 7AM
fuckaround
I can tell
by the look on your face
that you
didnt either
now
its vodka
and Polaroids
its
writng
with this pen
on your ass
to make the connection
between the two
Posted by Drexler at 02:14 PM
strays
girls with mashed noses
no elegance of the fawn
in these grease stained t-shirts
sleeves rolled up
revealing bruises, whose origins
remain unkempt
no bras to fill
with an echo of youth
the raw tongue of the nipple
desperate for shelter from the magnetic eyes
from the notations of the lustful
that wander the streets
bleached hair in oily strands
slung back to wherever it hangs
and the hungry eyes
garnished with a dab of mascara;
remains form a better day
they write
a sullen song
a hint of truth
an executed murmur
behind the shuttered curtains
somewhere beyond the blue;
the stained glass of the sea
Posted by Drexler at 02:01 PM
it called for play 39 (5/2004)
so there she is
in the mirror
holding her eye
screaming 'there it is, I can see it!"
later on
"we call this one here;
the stirrin the molasses"
said he
as he worked circles around her lower garden district
thing are definetly looking up
(I think)
when you start reffering to your life
as your career
while in the 3rd person
anyhow...
I started giving it to her
like an epileptic
Miles Davis and his crew
blew their goddamn horns
kinda like Im blowin mine
and when finally
I left the room
so to
did the music
I washed my dagger in the sink
and cackled like a wild coot
she started singing
about how my shit wasnt so hot
and as long as she's singing that tune
we all know
everything's gonna be alright
Posted by Drexler at 01:20 PM
harmony amongst beasts (2/2004)
not too long ago
the world was a much smaller
place to inhabit
there was the grocers
the liquor locker
and the cube where I
put it all together
but 1200 miles
on the 10 east
and 2000 square feet
at a foot below sea level
changed all that
and while once I was
a caged bird
there is now
a feline
in here with me
but perhaps I should be grateful
at least there is more space
in the cage
and someone to keep me
from falling asleep at the wheel
Posted by Drexler at 01:12 PM
May 03, 2005
the ruffle of wings
curling around the sing song of a flame
is not a realistic heating resolution
but I admire your poetic license
and creative anatomy arrangements
there are easier ways to say that
but they are not to be said by me
falling from the treetop
while waving a white flag
was not my idea of surrender either
however
it was either that
or say that I was sorry
and we both know how cold
hell can get
on a day life that
perhaps I will be draped kindly
across the riverbed
as coyotes howl at the misjustices
that they inflict
maybe they will pause momentarily
and hear the ruffling of my wings
lying dead on the earth
remembrance
it is all that I covet
from afar
Posted by Drexler at 01:46 PM
May 02, 2005
hyaline
it was at this point:
tantalized by streaks of light,
Dylan speaking sense,
that my bandwidth collapsed
indefinitely
I've seen this face in the mirror
far too often
scuttling around with a broken back
looking for that final straw
so that I may make amends
with my maker
so that I may make love
to a blurred notion
and chamomile textures
there are no more nations
to conquer blindly
or request with a straight face
Every color of the rainbow
has been charted and mathematically solved
that photo I never took;
worn smooth and shallow
by the crease where the watermark lies
That can only mean
that my thoughts linger on past endeavors
where some kind of imagined glory lies bloated
sharing with me a dog-eared grin
and a port of call, or maybe it was a bottle of port
a sense of accomplishment
for accomplishing little other
than dropping the ball
What does the world have to offer me
to keep my interest
before I insult the wrong person
with cloak and dagger tactics in mind
27 years has been long enough
to realize everything else is just a re-run
or a repackaging of some previous flame I nurtured
into smoke and darkness
Posted by Drexler at 06:41 PM
little beasts
with time to kill
and the things in my mind
closing in on a stillbirth
I stepped out into the mystique
and closed along the magnetic pull
seating myself on the pagoda at the end of Sunset Cr.
the triumph of the sea
swelling pragmatically under the cobalt mirror
couldnt snatch the attention from
the usual parade of athletic prostitution
all the aggressively well geared folk
ears capsulated with the sony
springing along in their nikes
only their little beasts know the joy
of a mad scramble in the morning
leaping and chewing on their ties and binds
pulling their roller girls with the high speed chase vigor
romping about like a wayward drunk on the sand
while the cement runners speak into their xylophones
disrupting the nurturing calm of the sea
cracking my focus on the natural
and redirecting it to my current issues
of dismal proportion
women who drive you all over the chart
throw cold water on your smile
I nurture them the best I can
something to do with love
but little to do with the state of grace I need to possess
to endure the tragedies that I see off in the distance
out past the lifeguard station and the sandpipers
beyond the confused structure of choice and neccesite
beyond the minor stumbling blocks that little beasts overcome,
in order to enjoy the simple pleasures of this life
at times like this
I know who is really on the leash
and have no clue
about anything else
Posted by Drexler at 06:28 PM
Nora and the Silkworm
it is quiet tonight
I find menial things to examine
brew up some stale bread and minestrone
on the gas range
I shake the orange juice bottle
and fill a glass
I read 170 pages of Celine
in relative obscurity
over the period of 5 hours
clicking on the machine
once in a while
to see if you’re around
but youre not
and it all emits such silence
even the stereo
dares not to speak above
a whisper tonight
soon I’ll pack it in
after struggling
with this page for a bit longer
I’ll cast off the remaining lights
and wrestle your absence
into a dream
to only be awakened
by the promise of your voice
Posted by Drexler at 06:20 PM
real men
whatever happened to the days
when men drank
like they wanted it to kill them
all I see now are these sows
who say no no, one glass is enough
I don’t know about you brother
but when I want to celebrate
or dwell
I don’t need a drink
I need a bottle
and that’s just to prime my pump
Id just assume assassinate my image, born from christ’s
(as they're so eager to remind me)
than uphold some frivolous code of righteous plasticity
the lawmakers and Mary Kay adhesive artists
are nowhere to be found after that closing time phone call
when flares burn in your sockets
and the bones in your hands ache from the unconscious process
that’s the time when a bottle of sloth
plays the role of shoulder and shipmate
listening at whatever station
you choose as your temptress of debasement
In the morning
there is silence with such stationary objects
unlike the ones
who take no time in firing verbal lightning
into your splitting skull
unlike our friend
who is always happy to oblige the 8 AM urge
unless it has nothing left to offer
though it usually has a friend just down the road
if you have the proper tools of procurement
something to drown out her banality
and uncouth barbiturates
in the end, what will any of it matter
we’re all worm meat
at least a few of us will get our fill
while the rest sip from glass straws
and puree the calories
Posted by Drexler at 06:13 PM
teeth are falling
yeah, the dust ruffle is not nearly as low
as the depths I will plunge to
to drive a stake into my headstone
waiting with the roaches, with the forgotten stones
for the bus to deliver me a little closer to solitude
I fend off the chill
curse the resurgent delays that mime
the wonderwall despondency I find grotesque
and later
when I spark kindling across the chastity belt
of some golden-tressed nymph
I hesitate to delay the improbable
for all the obvious reasons
they should make a guidebook for
all the gridlocked souls we commonly ignore
passing us in the street, at the dinner table
and other oddly familiar places
I inject novocaine into my conscience
so I can digest my daily routine
etc, etc…
better to pour them
long and strong
better to pretend
theres someone out there who cares
we should never give the truth
a moment to settle the dust
Posted by Drexler at 06:10 PM
seated near the debris
up with the rabbits
down with the foxes
that’s my m.o.
if you can untangle
the urban hymn aspect of it
never to clever to forget about
leaving a trail of crumbs
for the literally challenged
I am not so gifted,
or cosmetically short changed
that I need to go around handing out bitter pills
to the day glow crowd
I just like writing manuals
in braille
I craft several ceramic charlatans
from the usual female mold
engrave the most devastating features
that I can rummage from my barstool memoirs,
from the plagiarism notebook
that we all engage when the inkpot is fuct
anything original is a myth
if we don’t consciously take
the subconscious is always on the lookout
for an easy grift
at three in the morning I’m out in the alley
waving a pistola at that evenings mistake
hurling one truism on top of another
she tries to run me down
just like a Johnny Cash song
but I toss a discarded chair through her rearview
she screeches away like a banshee
back into the jungle, from whence she came
I go back to the hole at the bottom
of the stairs
and pour a tall one
sit down at this word trap
and get down to the brass tacks
Posted by Drexler at 06:06 PM
jaw jacking winos
in the end
it was all due to hip fever
and a labyrinth of whiskey and rum
that I had my heel punctured
by an old canine friend of mine
now that I think of it
I stepped on her hip
her bad hip
that’s when I got my ticket punched
why was I walking backwards you might ask?
one of the jaw jacking winos
was twirling her batons
how was I
a man of high moral aptitude
expected to miss a feat like that?
I was only trying to make my way
to the water closet
why the dog was in my path
only Ulysses could say
as I said before
I had hip fever
watching the whirling dervishes
throw their mantles around
its true
I was in a bit of debauched daze
the antique rum I had gambled on
was gathering no dust
the whiskey was etched
in the grooves of the stylus
how was I to know that my dogs dog
had teeth that wise?
privy to my profligacy?
so anyhow
blood began to flow
all over the recently steam cleaned job
the women ran around with stain remover
and blood soaked napkins
I just oozed and sipped on my cocktail
eventually we plugged them up
the holes
and I limped my way
to the toilet
for that elusive piss
when I returned
there was hardly a trace
of my demise
people began showing up
and the girls had a story to tell
needless to say
there was no more hip fever
to be had on that day
but I’ll have the scars to prove
that such things only happen
to those of us with
the lazy eye
and the thirst
for jaw jacking winos
Posted by Drexler at 05:52 PM
Clinical Static
we took the pills
what else was there to do
the book I was reading
was 300 pages old
and I still had 400 more
so a little diversion from that
was a welcome mistake
I remember my eyes
going out for awhile
to check on the sun
and the speakers in my head
reckoning with the volume
she began to undress
praising the tactfulness
of the heat
and addressing me
with grandeur
I stuck my head
in the tub
and forced the cold water
on
in the drain
I saw nothing
for a very long time
and then
my fawn came
and talked me back into
the front room
we began to do
what we always do
and I suppose there is nothing
wrong with that
I woke a few hours later
with her entrenched near my side
dreaming
struggling to my feet
I pulled a tray of burritos
from the fridge
and heated the oven
to accommodate them
there was enough vodka
to kill a horse
and so I intervened
on behalf of the beast
the jazz is crackling;
it dances on waves of smoke
the overhead is dimmed
to an agreeable frequency
she still slumbers
and I still linger
in a world where nothing
interferes
with my good time
Posted by Drexler at 05:48 PM
a horrocity
its not even a word
but you get my gist
yes, its always the same complaints
or plaintiffs
women, liquor, dope
and all the crossover episodes
I can endure
surely, you must say
there are other things
and I am sure
that there are
but none that interest me
none that grow in harmony
with the cactus
and four leaf clovers
this one is for
the crickets
and the pagodas
that keep me dry
in the summer hours of the spring
this is for the critics
I have yet to gather
to bully my offspring
preferring their daggers
to your gems and jewels
Posted by Drexler at 05:45 PM
the new style
so your father asks...
what would you rather have Steven
a good bottle of vodka
or
a good book...
well, sir..that would depend on my mood...If Id spoken to your daughter that day, I would probably take the vodka...if I hadnt spoken to her, Id trade the book for more vodka...
...now showing...
I just smoked a bonglit
and now im feeling kinda tan
looking like fidel castro
driving a convertible sedan
every time I sit down
to start a conversation
a woman shows up
with a mouthful of degradation
I heard clearly
the posture of her threat
so I sipped on some rum
and told her where she could get
friends in higher places
had slipped me an advance
of the new radiohead album
and it killed my urge to dance
it didn’t help matters
or none that I could trust
that the cylinder of her thigh
took a chisel to my rust
Im 28 years old
and stand about 2 meters high
when asked about it later
it brought a tear directly to my eye
let not jump the gun
or off of the ship
not when I can attach
my right of passage to the cabinet of her hip
a bit full of myself
yes I know
but better my stories
than an order to go
Im sure you catch my drift
or you wouldn’t have stuck around
youd be sitting at the border
waiting for me to leave town
posthaste
it was not to be missed
when all the virgins checked their wallets
to see if I was on their list
I knew my tenures
as confidant
were already in foreclosure
earlier in the day
when I lost my panama hat
and forgot what I was gonna say
anyhow
the tendons are all pulled now
but the ice, it is very cold
and it doesn’t matter to anyone
if its blood
or if its gold
it doesn’t matter
to me either
it all came to pass
just in time for a breather
from the devils behind the glass
...
goddamn little fool, I love you like you
were my passport
why
do I do this
because id rather fail
and flounder
than sit on my hands
and bark like an old dog
Posted by Drexler at 05:25 PM
fine dining
the shadow of the poet
is always at leisure
organizing strikes
against the count
the turnstiles of the fan
weave blurred images
with the taunting assistance
of the desert wind
sweat pours from the brow
that keeps me from dominating
the field of ponies
roaming the acres by silent decree
back here in the flesh
the potatoes are boiling
the chicken stands
its call to execution
the only thing that excites
the filet ala carte
is the chef
who, having consumed
three quarters of his life
is now making an attempt
to gourmet his way
to the candlelit affair
she has proposed
the wine is plundered
along the way
the manner of speech
is stifled
with the passing of the torch
as long as the damsels
provide the plea
I will always
be the cause
Posted by Drexler at 05:17 PM
The Gemini Trail
kick up some dust
on a southerly trail
chasing the stars of a gemini
scorpions have sketches
inked on them
but you have to come closer
to see
I pass by an open mirror
and look outside
there is a black tree
with hooves and claws
waiting for the spring
I close my eyes
and continue
a plane passes overhead
and the windows rattle loose teeth
a beer fizzles in a green bottle
delaying my arrival
momentarily
now that I stand here before you
captivated by your arsenal of intrigue
I can only say
that the thing I have done
may seem unruly to some
but to me
it not anything to lose sleep over
and if you could just hand me
my passport and the check book
Ill be moving right along
you are struck
by her expression of gratitude
how it always seems
in hindsight
to have been a nice farewell party
the two of you had
yes I know
this was years ago
but I wish that it seemed
like it was just yesterday
Posted by Drexler at 04:28 PM
aftermath of an interchange
im a hatchet
and I suspect my gecko
has a roach in his cave
I mean this literally
even if its not true
there is a pulse
in my forehead
it is a vodka beacon
to remind me of the prize I have achieved
for drinking the whole bottle
I listen to Chris Martin
bleed himself dry
and thank my maker
for the good things in life
even though I usually run them over
trying to get myself out of park
rubbing salt into my wounds
keeps me awake
and aware
of the coalition between
black and white
it sharpens the line
between them
and I am always in need
of that particular service
being a bit of a lazy eyed hack
when it comes to the yellow light
and the pedal on the right
so today
I shall ride my bike
along lands end
leave some breadcrumbs
for my lily skinned lover
in case she sneaks down
the coast
and surprises me with an impossibility
in the more likely event
of my sticking a paw in the pill jar
you will be notified of any changes made
to the club car décor
to the inner sanctions
we decorate
with bold words
and bright windows
until then
keep your skirt
low to the ground
and your eyes
up in the clouds
that is the way
I see you now
Posted by Drexler at 04:24 PM
long winded beasts, like myself
flushed
flooded
there are worse train wrecks
to cause
I possess the morals of a hyena
and that is probably an insult
to the animal
however
Im not interested in being the guest of honor
at the church potluck this fall
even Leonard Cohen
has a fair idea
of what the future holds
and it is not a helping hand
a smoking pistol
seems more likely
as I lay dying
I will not curse anyones name
other than the one
my mother gave me
and Im glad she is not here
to see
where her bouncing boy has landed
I am hunched in the wheat
waiting for the sickle to rise
hoping I am worthy
of the blade
if not
then we will be married
in fourteen days
from now
like we agreed upon
inside the walls of a garden
where I laid down to rest
and you offered your pillows
to me
I am gracious in defeat
secretly relieved
(I must admit)
to be off the market
in these days where sunlight
rarely breaks through the foliage
and into the inner chamber
of these dye eyed fawns
they are too busy chewing the grass
because it is green
to appreciate the sol
and the waterworks
that falls at their feet
but I love you
there is a tremor
in my lifeline
when I think of it
without you
and I suppose
that is as close
as I shall come
to completion in this life
closer than most
ever dare
nearer than the stars
shall burn
deeper than the wells
from which we drink
those which we toast
on the lake
as blue torpedoes
wisp around our inactivity
we draw breath
inside an embrace
that keeps the dream machine
rolling
and I don’t need anything more
as long as you wont accept
anything less
Posted by Drexler at 02:12 PM
notes from an evening well spent (2000)
Where to start?
In no particular order
at all
Everything that is wrong,
Women
Everything that is right,
Women
Be the writing?
Or be as good as the writing?
Indecideness.com-munism is acid reality
the answer: see what happened to Donald
Grant me the rewards that are equal to the risks I am willing to take.
The director sees the structure of the ideas.
The writer, the consequences of them
Reaching into the darkness and finding a pen, which is the only light I need
A written thing cannot live this life, but the mind that wrote it can.
The answers life provides are not worthy of my questions
A seething, rancid trail of fog
Produces nouns, verbs and bitter displays of mistrust,
showering me in brunettes.
Trails of fabricated tears,
eat through the truth like acid
These are lies, lost without their women
Seconds split apart like atoms
Making more than 60 moments in one minute
One hundred minutes in an hourly wage
500 hours in an atomic day
Days, that pull you apart, or in opposite directions,
slowly; as the mind falls away from the facing
and you realize that the clock has soft and hard lines,
that dilate according to the position of the sun,
splintering concrete into windows that revel
a switch to flood the corners,
with alkaline and brilliance
Darkness branches into ceramics rings,
places where truth lurks undetected.
Forgotten, like the sons of our fathers
Men who were left blind from a bright shining lie
bubbles.com
misty, melinda, breanne, sabrina, sandy.
marisa, tammy, missy, justine, cindy.
such sweet distractions
a reunion,
or fixed ruination
or a place for an arrival
like the greyhound station.
a stuttering arrogance,
that flutters when spoken to
sharp words feel violated
like my barrier when broken through
My friend,
If you are still here when I am gone,
then hang all of this on the wall,
as a memorial
and a testament.
accept all of this as an apology
for the question that I answered for us both,
so that one of us could finally live
vampire.com
take the acid
so that you can uncover the Secret Cocaine Vampires network
they suck from you
and they suck from you
until youve sucked it all dry
and there is nothing left of either of you
figure it out tomorrow
.com
Good-night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow
That I shall say good-night till it be morrow
re: page 902
living today in TommorowLand,
instead of living TomorrowLand today
We’ll get back to this shortly
treating life as if it were an endless weekend
assuming that Monday will never arrive.
we’ll just figure it out tomorrow
TommorrowLand.com
The light at the end of the tunnel that keeps going out
Is it I?
In McStyles we trusted
As alone in my thoughts
as I am in my life
so many thoughts
tonight
As alone in my thoughts
as I am in my life
so little to bring to light
tonight
The feeling of being complete lies somewhere in the middle
an empty handed riddle
She is here, ever present
fumbling for a key
that would unlock my mind.
Or so I imagine.
my christmas tree;
some lights shining brighter than others
singular in their splendor
undiminished in their form
Waiting for my presents,
or my presence,
to arrive.
Writing as desperate as the ink that captures it
Never change this to make it more legible!
For then you could read this as it is truly written
So imperfect in design,
that is perfect by default
Experimenting on my life, not in it
This is how you get results.
But at what price?
sacrificing poems
since I cannot find sleep
I leave them scattered all about,
mound upon heap
all this due to retina damage
You may be done with the past,
but the past is never done with you
without myself there would be nobody
If only the delivery sent,
were as pure as the intentions meant
Do the cocaine off the area which surrounds,
but not quite encompasses, perfection:
the navel
Or, the crease where desire meets fire
Which is why we always end up eating out
Because sometimes the drugs win
How much harm can you do to yourself,
before it shows up on your resume?
Greetings From FantasyLand
FantasyLand brings that insane giggle that I crave
and ideas of which I have all to myself
Better to live in FantasyLand.
but you cannot stay there.
Instead, make FantasyLand into TommorowLand
and start living in TommorowLand today
Why does it take losing the tongue
for you people to realize there was a voice of reason that spoke to you?
Now you are left with only the words
but not the voice whose passion was necessary
to find understanding in what was being said
In a delusional state of clarity
Which lies somewhere in all of this indecision,
Is the key to the fabric of our existence
Which I have found to be:
a boy
writes a poem
for a girl
if the mind could distance itself from these thoughts,
then perhaps insanity would be enough
signing off now
U.S.S.com
or
One Souls Attempt To Rise Above Zero
and wade amongst beauty
until it's efforts are finally
not enough
Posted by Drexler at 01:16 PM
The Ghosting Effect
Where does my shattered libido lie?
in with the drunken sultana?
That creature casts only corroded wishes and fishing nets
into those hellish pools of oblivion
and for her own amusement no less
I crouch down low, lean against my inner devices
mumble things to the plants
darkness takes shape, achieves residence
bright, tinny notes, ride along crisp waves
they emanate strength through composure
until they fall victim to the present
where upon, they vanish into the past
I, with a crooked ear, listen for the future
where are the gauntlets I have always heeded?
tools to catch the numerable fragments of thawed ice
as they fall from the broken ceiling of this world
bathe my soul in tears from god
absorb some of the guilt, for the testimonies I have given
where is the high hanging lamp to dry the vacant sidewalks?
shining like that grin that I could never recollect
just her reflection in a puddle within my mind
she is more of a personality with a personable effect
like that destination, to which I never arrive
there is no importance tagged on its ankle
for it is the imagineering that is the real journey
locations are just thoughtfully conceived backgrounds
like faces
eventually some day,
this moratorium on money will languish no more
and some shall finally begin to gather in my baggage
when the numbers grow strong enough
I shall deport them, off to take up new residence with various agents
allowing the pieces to fall into place
then, I shall take flight
across the entire flag, left to right
and over the sea on the other side
this time when I land, it will be on my feet
on foreign, yet, familiar soil
Spain
whatever you hold for me
hold no pretenses
the wonders I seek out will come from within
ridding me of the internal trappings vocation, that still lingers
I look to contract amnesia and start anew
ground zero
virgin to the earth and self
here,
I am just wasting away
contracting strange ideas
..sew that tear in the sky closed
that wide laceration.. caused by the cutting wind..
if only to keep the rain from breaching my altitude
or
to allow me to manifest the gifts I have been given
give me something to do
let me rebuke my flaws
grow vegetables
and cactus that form fuchsia buds
analyze the texture of sand
by placing some between my incisors and molars
grind my wisdoms away, into dust
this way I wouldn't bite my tongue as much
or speak so much
to say so little
Posted by Drexler at 01:04 PM
Sean Penn
Droplets of blood spot the snow
engaging profanity and the such
Into a mirror I quickly glance
and finding it completely unreliable in its narration,
I turn my back on myself,
closing off the conscious thought process
A return to the light table
reawakens the beast within
and I welcome such true humanity
to this bizarre forum
Nostrils flare around the looking glass
working fiendishly around the crimson mishap
vacuuming up chalky drifts
An explosion in the central nervous system
triggers the desired response
causing the mind to recoils in horror
and I cackle at the purity
of this graceless moment
They look like white leaches
and what an inappropriate analogy
from someone who recently called love
'an approaching realization'
Posted by Drexler at 12:57 PM
Mobile Fidelity and the Cacti
Tilt my neck
to examine the spines
imperfections on the cover
send me into scheme mode
so I rotate ninety degrees
and trace over my previous footpaths
taking to one of the various posts
that I retain in the front yard
I closely examine the cacti
to see if it has grown any
since the last time I checked
four minutes ago
Silence speaks to me
as one of the various neighbors
retreats back into his abode
re-entering my apartment I re-examine the spines
and begin to laugh
at the pure insanity of my idle time
and obsessive-compulsive behavior
It is too much to bear
so I go outside
and check on the cacti
Posted by Drexler at 12:55 PM
Under the Volcano
In the vortex
of the volcanic triangulation
thunderheads and rum concoctions
drain the sky of its aquatic bloodline
lightbulbs flutter and fade
like moths wings and promises born on the witching hour
Fog drapes over the sedated landscape
sheltering our view and disclaimers to warmth
Iron staircases corolate reflections of light
as smoke bellows from industrious towers
and lungs of depravity;
launching rose petals into foreclosure
lime seastones slowly reclaiming the shoreline
and all of us; calmy claiming innocence
of events forseen
and fortunes foretold
under the sheets
under the volcano
Posted by Drexler at 12:51 PM
Venice
Behind tin shutters
and star lit curtains
melodies fill a vacancy
left by the moonlight
Behind closed doors
and parked cars
sweat is being brewed
candles are fluttering
nightgowns
are being laid to rest
Down south
girls giggle atop a swing set
about their chemical alterations
and my voyeuristic inclinations
while hobos howl at the moon
Down here
in the twilight of my youth
I mock the world
as it passes me by
I see old men cry
as beasts unearth
that which they have hidden
In the aftermath
some years later
long after now
we will wonder
aloud
to ourselves
how such a place
or time
was ever lost to us
and have
no reply
other than the tears
Posted by Drexler at 12:43 PM
Decadence Canyon
butterscotch threads
wisp the face
unveiling a source
of the gradual deceit
So I advance beyond the present
and right into the past;
the useless,
prolonging the inevitable
Fashion doppelgangers
posing for the propaganda man
luring undeserved attention
from the followers club;
whose slight ‘defects’
keep them from being members
walking blindly
with bright eyes
babbling into slave phones
polishing each others price tags
filling up their heads
with credit card resolve
Late at night
after static overfills the void
I retrace my steps
(in a different light than before)
and rekindle my affair
with these dormant streets
and their helpless points of inspiration,
Letting the fog envelop me
until I disappear into midnight
re-emerging on the other side
still wearing the expression
of a man who sees too much
in every single thing
Posted by Drexler at 12:41 PM
Way of the Domino
casual extra marital encounters
and
the upholding of self-aborting decrees
were never things
I took pleasure in
Can we all call to mind
the removal of the chain
in doorways where the bested man
has just minutes earlier
departed
or even the toppling of glass bottles
the pyramid structure, going the way of the domino?
There are no victims
just players
some clock in on an automaton figure of eight
and sign over their souls
to the garbage men
others take on the struggle
to beseech the seam
tear a hole in the clouds
and kindle a little flame for themselves
up amongst the stars
Posted by Drexler at 12:34 PM
The Importance of a Fan
the bottle and I
sweat in harmony
reminis about the days
when the fan blades flew
straight through the oppression
that dirty bitch crashed and burned
one week ago today
a replacement
crawls through the mail
probably lofting
somewhere in Des Moines
or Baton Rouge
on this muggy crypt of a July eve
where are you
at this moment
my love
planted horizontal on your box spring
submitting yourself
to his panting
his questions and pleas
have you made it
even that far
the boulevard below
offers nothing but restlessness
it turns over
here in my procession
like a slow blade
and I wonder when I will at last
be able
to call you my own
love you freely
as my woman
as my little girl
when will all of the clutter
be swept aside
so our path will be a little easier
to embrace
Posted by Drexler at 11:55 AM
Isolated views
People tryin to poison
my isolated views
fill the kitchen sink
with my melancholy blues
I orchestrate the finger puppets
from this basement garden alcove
leaving the directions to the show
burning on a portable gas stove
The glass has become so heavy
watching the ice thaw
that I place a disposable coaster
on the instep of my lockjaw
and the tenants above the light fixture
tend to lend me to their ears
turning the engines over
to the disenchantment of the gears
Skeletons in the closet
fillin out my wardrobe
I got the sensitivity curators
chewin on my earlobe
the taxes they’ve created
for the socially upright
wont outlast my unemployment vodka
a quarter past the midnight
Spittin gems
spittin venom
find me a 17 year old virgin
in case sensitive denim
you’ll find me in a locket
behind silver strings
that shatter when the illusion
of the telephone rings
Posted by Drexler at 11:06 AM
the 99 cent slice
walking through the quarter
looking for a slice of pizza
or a burger
something cheap to dance with the liquor
below
I find a place
where rape is legal
trying to charge me $3.50
for some cardboard mopped in grease
I miss Venice
and the 99 cent slice
it was just a stroll down the boardwalk
the whirling brunettes on roller skates
making it look easy
the cinnamon girls
giggling their velvet secrets
as I made
some sort of progress
south
under the shade of the palms
with your paper plate and napkins
golden retrievers
leaping towards their sea bound frisbies
cats on studded leashes
you cast your remains
to one legged pigeons
and seagulls
you chuckle at the truth
of the garbage can graffiti
take some warm water
from the fountain
and head back
north
so here I am on Bourbon St.
drinking bourbon
from a flask
wondering which back street miscue
will lead me to the southern versions
of all my west coast treasures
they seem so lost to me here
only with time
will candles light
in all the appropriate corners
of places that I shall come to revere
as my own
like those I have displaced
out west
in hope of finding a harmony
that somehow
was always lacking
near the sea
Posted by Drexler at 11:02 AM