Monthly Archives: December 2014


Please give a squeeze and let a bullet fly,

For a once in a lifetime chance dances by,

whirling and twirling beautiful hair

and dark eyes.

Please take that Gun

off your forehead and point it elsewhere,

(Because nobody cares

if it only caps you!)

Please roll the dice, and bet all you’ve got

it isn’t too much so what the fuck,

I’ll Give it a shot!

I don’t stand to lose a whole lot,

Just a shattered, battered smashed apart heart

and all my sweet dreams

torn instantly apart.

Please give a squeeze, and let a bullet fly;

if you don’t want to do it,

then why did you load it?


Hold it steady now.

Slow down your breathing.





Land of the Free

America has Fallen,

welcome to the waste

We are what remains

of the once-were Master-Race.


can’t you see that all I want to do

is get through to you,

To watch a moonrise

over Manhattan

from the Jersey side,

and hold your hand on the palisades,

be young and be brave,

while we scream from Fort Lee

for the skyline to see

as we wash ourselves clean in the Hudson

my friend (please come home)

My estranged friend,

Wherever have you gone?

I am missing you again,

it seems it’s been so long.

Have you decided

To read Kurt Vonneget books

and study agriculture in the West,

to work on how you look,

And make sure you be your best?

Are you listening to old Bruce Springsteen records

on long walks in the dark,

Or are you listening to hobo stories

Somewhere deep in Central Park?

Are you flying in an air-plane,

to Montenegro or Mozambique,

or are you lost in Atlantic City,

crying desperate tears at the Sea?

Are you running through the Meadowlands,

naked and young, wild and free

Or are you infiltrating corporations,

Dismantling society?

Are you on the run again,

from yourself within your mind?

Are you scared and savagely lonely,

like you were that other time?

I cannot help you now,

The Night’s too dark for me to see

But you’ll find your way somehow,

and it will take you back to me.

Wherever you are,

Looking up at the stars

or Driving Parkway South in your Car,

I wish that You

would find your way back Home,

My dearest friend.

Bridge Over the River Passaic (Marco the Baptist.)

Just yesterday, I was Saved

When an Elbow broke my Nose

and Split my Chin,

And MY Blood Ran like Wine,

Down my face,

Dribbling through a crimson grin

as I cried out in pain

and spit up dark red phlegm.

It’s both sad and amusing,

Funny and confusing,

that so few can find Redemption

in a Deviated Septum,

That so Many see Defeat

In broken buildings and concrete

But I

Have been Baptized

in the waters of the lower Passaic,

Noxious, Toxic Dioxins

poured over my head,

Grabbing hold of


floating like tires

On that spiritual superfund liquid.

God is in the cancerous flesh

of a catfish caught in Kearny,

Hungrily devoured

By a Starving homeless Central American

beneath the bridge,

And with every bite

of that putrid, Cancer meat,

He is Saved.

A Secret for you before I go;

The Bodies of Italians

and murdered little girls

that decorate that muddy river-bottom

Died for Our Sins,

So that We can Live

And So

I Do.

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