Legalities
Produced by:
Pali Productions Inc.
http://Pali.Ca
Published
by:
http://Smashwords.com
Copyright by:
Steve
Glickman © 2010
SteveG@Pali.Ca
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Obligations:
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. Inquiries concerning reproduction rights should be directed to SteveG@Pali.Ca.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Originally published as paperback ISBN# 0-9688658-2-8, 1998.
License notes:
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
For Jen (“D”)
... all hunched over, swept me off my feet
Table of Contents
THE SOUND OF SOMEONE ELSE’S BREATH
HAVE YOU SEEN THE KEYS TO MY SOUL?
MY THOUGHTS TURN TO THE ONES I’VE HURT
TAKE TREES FROM NATURE TO SATISFY OUR GREEDY DESIRE FOR FUCK CIRCUS’S OF INTELLECTUAL DESTRACTION
I FILL THE CUP WITH BROWN THOUGHTS
WATCH EACH SUNRISE WITH A DRUNKEN MIND
I PRAY FOR A QUICK END TO MY IMAGINARY SUFFERING
THE ENGINES BUSTED, BABY; BUT THAT FIRE’S GONNA BURN FOR A LONG TIME
PERHAPS, PERHAPS IT WAS MEANT TO BE
ALL MY DEPRESSING POEMS ARE IN THE OTHER BOOKS
A BATTLE ON EVERY FRONT (I REALLY OUGHT TO STOP EXAGGERATING)
JESUS; RIDING DOWN IN HIS SLEIGH, GOING TO SAVE ALL THE CHILDREN FROM LOUSY GRADES
WAVES OF VOICES ANNOUNCE OCEANS OF TRAINS
Chapter 1
ExPeRiMeNtS iN fOg
THE SOUND OF SOMEONE ELSE’S BREATH
As my ship sputters to a dead stop in the endless fog, any hopes of returning to solid ground are now dependent upon those willing to venture out into this sea of illusion.
The clarity of vision no longer serves my purpose, only heightens the tension.
Please bear with me as I battle my appetite for destruction; self determination. I am only sounding my foghorn in the dead of the evening.
Jealousy overpowers all other emotions as red curtains fall softly over my thoughts. I am not scared, I am scared. I am not lonely, I am desperate. Knowledge and vices drive me towards a tragic landscape.
How often have the animals gathered to mock my agony? Only they can feel honest in the face of destruction. Now my pride looks foolish, grinning from behind a face of anguish. I squint into the immediate future, waiting for lights, shadows, to pull me out. The ringing in my ears and the beating of my heart serve me company.
A warm chills smile fuels my search; for the love of friends opens my heart to the light of life, and the sounds of someone else’s breath.
DANCE ME IN DEATH
We tread ever so softly into the fog.
Calling quietly, we fear a
reply.
Singing, we step into the distance,
trembling with each
step we take.
Eyes open for all the world to see,
we stop, and
listen;
to hear each other balanced here.
Seeking comfort in the fiery arms of lies;
running for each other
with empty hearts.
Tripping and stumbling some
of us loose,
while others who help are labeled as fools.
Rejected
and branded, tormented at dawn,
crippled and hopeless, yet still
they move on
and are trampled, or stoned, or burned,
or
ignored
by money and magic, rumors and
slander.
We stand by and dance and stare at the walls.
As our
prayers go unanswered we furl our brow
and crucify our neighbour,
while bribing the judge.
With sudden sharp thoughts the anger
grows
like cancer, not knowing the death of its host.
Embarking
a ship - traveling the globe
we step forth and ask to be counted,
while the world spins
and dips.
HAVE YOU SEEN THE KEYS TO MY SOUL?
Once when I was young I saw the sun.
Now as the heat glows down I fear that I shall never smell the sweet scent of spring flowers; hear the song of the night sky.
All is lost; or merely forgotten. Wake the past, call the infant to rise again and I’d walk willingly into the next day. Shake thoughts from my mind and let the light out.
Help, I’m on fire, and my soul is not forgotten. Release me my perceptions and let me breathe blue mist.
Hold my body and rock me until I find the path to ego destruction. Desire a single bridge to eternal life.
YOU ARE WATCHING BIG BROTHER
You are watching big brother.
You are watching big brother
talk.
You are watching big brother walk.
You are watching big
brother laugh.
You are watching big brother fight.
You are
watching big brother run.
You are watching big brother love.
You are sitting.
Your hands are quiet.
Your ears are
listening.
Your eyes are open.
Your feet are still.
Your
brain is thinking.
Your heart is beating.
Your soul is weeping.
SHOOT THE MOON
As the summer winds down and the trees turn yellow, my spirit longs for the days when the warm winds could blow these thoughts away.
Sitting on my perch, far far above the crowd; I fear my own distraction will surly cause me to fall.
My secrets are fond of driving me on,
and my past is never
forgotten for long.
There’s a light blinding my eyes,
and the
truth of it is that it burns all the time.
Oh to be me in the arms
of a stranger,
I reach for this dream with the wings of an
angel.
Tears of joy, tears of shame,
laughing, holding,
touching, enjoying.
Playing, chasing, breathing,
forgetting,
seeing, being, and being together.
How base I am to hide these thoughts, though they
ravage my heart,
pull at my coat,
push me down when I
wake,
call when I walk,
and laugh when I talk.
FLYSHIT
My fires going out. I’m sinking, pulled apart.
I’m disappearing.
I need some medicine. I’m lost, blind, shoeless, and tired.
Love, which comes like a ledge; I’m teetering on the edge, reaching and calling.
My hope has flown away like a blanket in the wind. The stars beckon, and my soul asks to be set free. The prison I have built no longer holds my fears at bay. The light no longer shows the way, only blinds me.
Red is the color of the day.
The dawn sings only sad songs.
My shovel has hit rocks, and I stoop to lift the weight of the world. My home is broken, and winter’s coming on strong.
I only wish the love I desire would stop hunting me down and simply move on.
MY THOUGHTS TURN TO THE ONES I’VE HURT
Guilt and grief have found me again; still in the afternoon. I’m a real bastard, or so they all say; surly not misunderstood.
Alone and afraid to be alone. With nature as my company, as the clouds conspire against me. The bottle of scotch half empty, my thoughts turn to the ones I’ve hurt.
There are many, hurting myself by hurting others. Accused at the dawn, my personalities are in conflict. My pen has many tears, guilty of not carrying my weight; noble in my ineffectiveness, a tramp at heart.
I’ll walk to the ends of the earth in search of a life without pain, the smile on my face remains like an old weathered piece of wood.
Sometimes I’ll catch myself in time, but not often, imagining things as they really are; hard, like the taste of this scotch, or soft like a smile from a distance; free like death, or as alive as the heat from the sun.
The purpose eludes me, but the beauty stuns; wakes my soul, and stirs my thoughts to the ones I’ve hurt.
DREAD, DEAD, BREAD
Sex, money, power; old nemesis.
She came to me in the morning light.
“Listen, we have to talk about this. There’s something happening to you, us… dark.”
Tears rolling down her soft face, dancing their strange dance on her skin. All her pain on display for me to see.
My heart beat, then beat again. Then I felt it beat again. Wishing I was small, so that I could escape those eyes. All my past has found me.
“I …”
I didn’t know what to say. My mind was numb. There’s no erasing the past; maybe the present.
Oh, how I wish I could get away.
She needs better, and I need my bottle. It was so simple. How many times does the candle burn, the rain fall, the wave crash. Yes, I can hear them laughing in hell as she lays it on me. Those tears burn for a long time.
Confusion about money, love’s gone out the back door. God damn fucking son of a bitch money. Guilt money, evil money, blood money, guts money, heart money, lung money. Every morning confusion. Make money, save money, spend money, give money, get money, love money, hate money.
“I… I don’t know.”
I stammer. We talk it out, we smile, we laugh about it, she leaves it alone for a while. I feel like shit. I go get a drink and a pen and write it down.
HIDE MY WATCH
Dreams exist, but for me they’ll always be something to reach for, to die for, to drink for.
She opened her arms like a river.
She touched my face like a
bird.
She held me tight like a hurricane.
She helped me through
the darkest night.
My dreams seem more like a passing train.
My dreams hide behind
trees.
My dreams assault me.
My dreams tempt me, yet never
release me.
My dreams deceive me, my dreams are not me.
My
dreams are the tranquil peace in others.
My dreams are the joy
that I’ll never be.
My dreams are the freedom that does not
dream to be me.
AS
as I close my eyes,
as the sounds of my breath carry me away,
as
the voices in my head are heard,
as my hands unclench,
as my
pecker softens
as the day’s events evaporate,
as the sun
makes its way around the night,
as the creatures come out from
hiding,
as my thoughts become one,
as my pain breaks,
as my
emptiness spills,
as my purpose eludes me,
as my liver dies,
as
my mouth opens,
as my imagination slips into gravity,
as my pen
slides off my mind,
as my toes dance on stars,
as my loneliness
finally meets it’s maker;
I understand.
1-800-I’M-DRUNK
This scotch feels like lead weight on my guts as my heart tries to lift a sagging spirit.
Music calls me to dance; but my feet fear the solid earth will surly split in all creatures efforts to dispel truth. Softly we walk towards the stage. Bright lights produce dark shadows. My fingers open like a web to catch the dust. The women are all beautiful, sharp and tall with their faces to the wind. I step sideways, trying to be seen, making my own way to the top.
Someone speaks; “It’s time to leave please.” I want to cry, to stop this beauty from disappearing. She stretches, with velvet arms scratching the sky. Round rides I could study to infinity. Listen closely to the sounds of letting love in. Kiss her skin and taste sweat as sweet as any sugar. Bathe me in the weight of being. Live in the sun’s warm embers. Close my eyes as my brain opens to the world of knowing. Helping each other towards spirituality. Flying over the treetops, swimming in the green waters of deserts, making eggs speak as the grass dreams.
I went out for a walk and came back a stranger. I only know the ends of the rope as the door rings and rings. It started to rain until everyone left. What do I say to an empty room? Have you seen my body? I feel like I’ve lost my lungs. Suck dreams from this bottle. Words meaning only to those who’ll listen.
TAKE TREES FROM NATURE TO SATISFY OUR GREEDY DESIRE FOR FUCK CIRCUS’S OF INTELLECTUAL DESTRACTION
Hard and flat, red cherries broken under a capitalist hammer. Flies buzzing, sponging up fermented juice. Gone to waste flying humourless into glass bottles. Shotgun my mind in thinking clearly. Sex in a disposable cup. Crawling towards distant galaxies. Whole planets built on rejection.
Rejection, ejaculation, feeling around in the dark for each other. Sweaty breasts, and exploding libidos; hungry lips searching for kicks. Making grunts in the moonlight. Let’s sink into the cool musty nights glistening maps of fantastic landscapes, colors blending infinitely into latitudes covered in velvet, by eyes searching for movement among the endless drifting grass.
Trees and vegetation dwarf all ideas. Surrounded by heartbeats and starlight. The spiders cower in the clear spaces. Helped and stunned by green dancing angles. Strong men heard in the deepest recesses, shy and observant of the movement of the night sky. The water sparkles with death. Life and destruction play out their sad commentary while we eat smoked meat. Prayers to call the animals to speak in frantic rhythm.
As we travel in circles, the eyes of the farmers look down in sorrow. Make tokens to ward off honesty. Live for now or you will surly find no more passion then a soft roach looking down an empty bowl. Stick hope into subways of ink. I’ll cry for the wide open spaces. Make more sense than a half empty bottle.
My heart is ringing. She kissed me to infinity. She knows only of the power to fly. As caterpillars slink across tar, so does my heart know of the empty aspirations of pavement. Trust not my judgment, but as a mouthpiece for destruction let me drink deeply. There is no sense left in the world. My space is getting smaller and smaller reaching desperately across shore lines, chips and transformers like a frenzy of trapped electric stimulants. Killers of pain searching for a friend.
My youth, full of loathing, defensive posturing, and confusion. I gave all that I had to live it again, to learn the lessons of innocence and youth. The beauty of this earth is disappearing, and I wish to disappear with it.
Daddy’s little failure, whining in the corner. Desperation seeks same, unfounded in the early hours. Making sense of desolation, crawling across glass to show oneself as noteworthy. As I stumble to the bottle, all my inhibitions evolve to worldly passions. As my fingers speak eloquently of tigers. Helping passion as the days glow returns to face another assault.
Sounds of birds flapping helplessly against the evenings weather. Vintages of old lost lovers replay in my mind. If I could gather all the lost love, I’d be a god. I can see the stricken like lighting, born ready to fight. I lose my inhibitions and gamble for control of my soul. Passing all my friends on the way down. Surrounded by the normal blind content people. How they scorn my desires. Set free like a lunatic into a summers fields of roses.
Break a man’s spirit and you have a servant.
I FILL THE CUP WITH BROWN THOUGHTS
There’s no story as unbelievable as truth, surreal and unbecoming, advancing with impossible steps; marching, tiny feet sure and heavy. Truth will trample the love of youth and build palaces of worship in its place. Carnal thoughts remain where there was once ice. Concrete and smoke are no match for the endless beauty of an innocent smile.
As we seek our own history, sex and desire make clowns of us all. Shot out of gravity, I see the galaxy in its strength, making progress towards a bright day. I’d warm my hands by the tunnel of coincidence.
How do they do it? Fearless and fresh in the late afternoon. Giddy they laugh at the face of the sun. Dancing in the moonlight, turn to see who would bother to watch. The waves stand motionless for their aspirations. Smelling of salt and grass, their skin shows the traces of joy. Responsible for their youth. Taken into the brains. A dog drools from the car window. Waiting for another tomorrow.
Awakened by the exhaust of 99 billion cars. Frozen in a parking lot. Kissing food while scorning the hungry. Red fog and highway markers. Tits for eyes and a pecker instead of feet. Happy as a pretzel thinking dark thoughts of impossible love. Making necessary changes to an open hand. Feared, forsaken, frozen from decisions of robots. Stunned silence fills my mind. Who would run to a locked door?
I’m at a loss, less satisfied than after the crucifixion. I don’t know where my ideas go, but I think that it’s better than the hard gamble of love. Affection afflicts me, so draw near as the wall opens. My blood is white, creamy; get it? How I long to possess a body but my own. How I fear the sound of the clock ticking; the friend that says life’s too real. Life is a slow crawl towards death. Life is a slow growth shrinking on the neck of god.
WATCH EACH SUNRISE WITH A DRUNKEN MIND
Carve truth into the hidden hallways. As I ponder the abstract of being, the poor reach out with dirty hands. It’s all just a political smear; blood on the walls. I wash myself of history and look towards a nuclear future. As the seasons die, our children are taught to forget. Live to learn, learn to die.
A white limousine carrying rich famous powerful people turns towards a beautiful demise. Working too hard or not enough, my thoughts are in synch with the squealing of brakes. Pray to the mirror! Let it be known your misguided attempts to climb above nature. Sing praises for progress, as you slide into chaos.
Are there any believers in the cosmos? An emerald planet extinguishes itself silently. Greed is poverty, and the privileged spread confusion like a new religion. The women’s movement; corrupted for eons by the sons of the ego of man, chastised into smiles and legs, giving birth to aliens.
A tree which sprouts fire. An iron heart beating inside lead chambers. A box full of compassion. A milky balloon trapped by the surf. A glass wheel falling through space. A frozen whale. A make believe story of truth and promise.
A heart crushed by rejection. A tear hidden behind years of pain. A voice unheard. A ticking bed. A bullshit gesture of love and pride. A licking dog, confined to chains, pain and confusion in our universal mind. A dead end species rejecting the truth that illuminates the future.
Hope is a gift that must be nurtured to survive; are all our thoughts so mischievous?
Taken to the edge of reality, I feel cold. Marked as a lamb, I cannot help but watch each sunrise with a drunken mind.
LUST IN THE LAND OF THE LOST
Artists making headway into tunnels of smog. Every beautiful face another missile. Having a fit in the inner recesses of my heart. The sky has been carved apart into bite sized pieces. Some tramp surfs the bus lines.
I could really loose myself forever in the cracks of the sidewalk. The large green sights that were only yesterday now seem like an impossible life. I sit still on the street corner and nothing happens. If I could only learn the magic of making their beauty important. I have prayed at the alters of desire, and I have humbled myself before the gods of greed.
Long ago, we married gratification to imagination. Oh how our confusion appeals to those sons and daughters of this unholy alliance. How noble is the person who gets the job done! How happy is the child who licks ice cream off the pavement! As we embrace a dream that is no more inspiring than a tear of god.
My importance judged by the indifferent glorious eyes of mile long legs hastily retreating into the stages of my thoughts. Break me in half, and I’ll still be undecided. The tragedy of endless beauty drives my feet towards another unfinished encounter.
In my attempts to escape this foolish tradition I hastily dig my own grave.
HIDING
Damaged goods, denied reconciliation; left to burn in the sunlight. Anguish my only salvation. Determined to prolong the torment at any cost. My pain a parachute. Lost in drugs, booze; salvation of self destruction. Glass eyes of eggshells. Hiding from rejection; a pawn in my own life.
I could no longer be bought, brought down to the lowest common denominator.
Mixing words like fever. A stranger to the hero in the mirror. Untouchable in sadness. Placed in a firing line of my parents sins; greed, corruption, denial, deception, fear. We all know them well, but they were my only companions. Regret my best friend. Confusion in the land of the lost. Afraid of what I may find; small and insignificant in my own mind. Seeking to understand becomes my demise.
A solitary creature on an alien landscape.
Chapter 2
SITTING ON THE SuN
I PRAY FOR A QUICK END TO MY IMAGINARY SUFFERING
Ahh yes, the days get shorter.
My reflection is lost, as I gather my strength for another days battle. Lost in the light, I fight for a foothold in loose mud. The rain shelters me; my spirit sunken to new depths.
Holding my heart in my hands I feel the squeeze of too many rejections. My opinions have been stolen by a ruthless society. I’ll swing from the branches of destruction. Beauty has left me, and is only more beautiful because of it.
I don’t deserve the attention that I give myself.
There are others, touching the truth with scarred hands. My heart wants me to follow it into the darkest night, like a soft pillow at the end of a dark tunnel; as my grays have all turned to black.
LETTERS TO LOST LOVERS
How does love grow? What feeds the birds whose love has flown away?
As the whole world averts my gaze, the clouds red eyes see only my bitterness. My past demands revenge, and the struggle exhausts me. It’s swallowed my life, and now spits out pieces with grunts of disapproval. I reach out into the fires of rejection, the burns only further my disfigurement.
I awake to laughter, surrounded by death. Death loves me more than any other; from the bottle I see myself laughing. Death will make friends of us all, and the sounds of confused hearts will ring softly down the hallways of forgotten honour.
When I think of the other creatures stirring in the night, and the moons warm scotch warms my soul, I call across the fluid into the soul of all that I know, asking only to be remembered as a living person; and make my bed into the soft shape of my hips; and dream of better days,
when I had someone else to share.
I NEED A BULLET - QUICK
Sitting in silence, my imagination has run dry. Words don’t come when there is only myself drowning in thoughts. I’d like to fall into a tornado, or swim in fire. I’m not allowing myself to play.
The rules of the game are some cryptic dagger run through my soul.
I should drink deeply from car exhaust. I’m not a lover, and a coward of a hater.
When does the sun look at me? Why do the falling leaves call my name? Why do the animals pity me? How many times can I get myself back? Where do my feet have to go? If two is four, how can I reach happiness?
When will my love stop hating me?
Who opens their arms to the blind? Is the wheel really an escape? How do you stop a clock without breaking it? Who has left their legs in my mind? Why do I pull for clouds?
Why does the king hate me?
DON’T BOTHER
Well, here I am again; pulling my inner self from out of the bottle. I was born ready to laugh at myself. I’m not drunk, yet.
I can’t find the little blinking light that lets me know I’m doing ok.
My friends all wish me well, from a distance. If I could only bridge the gap of the past, just to let them know that I’m sorry even before we begin.
I’m Kafka’s ghost. I’m Cassady’s off day. The future flashes like duck eyes in a thunderstorm. The owl seeks shelter in a streetcar. Make sense of my mind, will you; I’m simply too tired.