I’m back.

After a long hiatus I am back. I didn't have internet for awhile so deal with it! I have it now. Planned is a Seattle blog called the Seattle Sun which will feature character poems and stories centered around bus routes, bars, and sidewalks in the Seattle metro area. I am doing amazing well here and now live alone in a area called Capital Hill where I can overlook the Space Needle and the Puget Sound and can get a fill of strange culture. Its strange sitting on my patio with the street kids hugging my borders urging me to perform or write something new.

The ink beneath my skin
waits for the cut to let it run
over you.
On pages of your living life
it drips over concrete
begging to be sucked in.
Your rock-hard routine
denies this.
I sit alone thinking of you.
Thinking of finding someone more
soft.
The sun comes out and the ink runs dry like
tears on a stone block.
Sink into me.
And be lost in the Poet's ocean
like thumb prints
placed on the surface of a sea.
No fog horns. No lighthouse.
Just my drunken ink thumb prints to see you through.

6:29 AM - 8 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Life In Condopolis.

Sorry its been awhile but much has gone on in Condopolis; bus routes, some mayhem, beach parties and new friends. I know I've blogged on my stance on the Condo issues in cities and ironically as I type my apartment building has been sold and are converting into condos forcing everyone out into the streets. Rents are at a 3% ratio and have the most competition for Seattlites in three decades. Not good. Folks no rebate check is going to help this economy and I'm afraid a newly elected president wont make much of a difference either. Times are getting hard in America and no dose of reality t.v. is going to work at keeping the wool over the eyes anymore, no Britney or Miley Cirus stories are going to suffice as we look other directions to avoid looking East. We call ourselves the home of the Brave and yet can't fathom standing up for our rights as they are being stripped away. Gas prices, toll fares, retarded entertainment and bad news 24/7 and we cant look apast that and do something? People do have the power. Whats happened to us? When did everything become programmed and fake. Tomorrow if someone sells you diet water will you buy it?

Where will the ordinary Americas go as we pay 7 dollars a gallon for gas, kicked out of our homes for suburbs one thousand miles away from our temp jobs while hitting three toll booths for 7 dollars each along the way as more condos for luxury start to embed their views in our little suburbs erasing our history as we spend a rebate check on health care we cannot get or a gift to our friends and brave soldiers in some war East and where will we go? Mayberry is condo land. You can live in the Aunt B towers for the grand view affair.

One day we will ask what it means to be American and we won't have much of a good answer if we go where they want us to go.

No where is a place.

8:35 PM - 4 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Outlaw

No man passes through
this way unharmed, but sacred,
challenged, a breath blown
to the left of the Southern cross,
one hand weighted over short change
the other rested on the altar of the agnostic.
Our hearts are pointed to the angel at dawn.
When we have nothing left
we have gained everything.
The desert is coated with the tears of the West.
Shout it to the water funneled cities on the Coasts.
I am the king of outlaws.
to the lovers of Mardi Gras
I am the king of outlaws.
to the pistol whipped future
thrown against the sails of desire.
I am the king of outlaws,
to rapture and rupture
to carry a satchel of gasoline
for a burned out crowded dream
to realize no life
should be a fire bright
whose flames are not
over shined by the sun.

should be a fire brighter than
the sun.

should be
should be.

11:54 PM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Ghostburner.

To An Misbegotten.

Sweet, your Saturn return
burns the past and misdirects the future.

Your eyes reflect scarecrows set on fire,
the death hawks come in with their
urban temptations, living will claim you
faster than cancer, old age will intersect
your youth, your soul won't boil no more,
you hold the flame to ruination instead.
Those shoes are leather but your soles are steel.
Testament on Mercer.
Can't see stars on Jupiter.
The moon rose and the ghost of the sun went higher.
They can't see you when your souls not on fire.

Your rain soaked and hollow
near the ghost of Belltown you came to barter
back your soul with all you had left,
nickles and heaven tricks.
Death started singing on the corners.
Damp dollars. Death singing!
Damp, damp dollar.

Hell is risen. Heaven has fallen
which is which in between them?
Everybody is wrong and everybody is right.
a principle struggles in this modern world,
too bored to care, care to much to be bored,
you smell august on his wife beater
and feel sad.

but you were
eyes and soles of steel,
I wanted to feel you,
somewhere dark in a cigarette sparked night.
I wanted to save you, ghostburner.
the city stopped.

I wanted to save you.
There's love in heaven and hell
not in between them.

Who the hell I'm I kidding,
you're just ghost we worship
against our idolized spit on flag of a
American burning bra dream.

I know its hard to hang on to
the purity of teen aged philosophies
we knew were right when
looking into the headlights, the past
of this lethargic and predictable futurehold.
as it come crashing its hood inching from
your feel.

I now worship the living opposed
to the dead.

1:41 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

The Princess.

Trying to think clearly
in a room of war, falsehope,
12 steps and tragedies.

The teardrop contained on her face
embodies 12 years of separation,
lost love and demon seeds.

We urge her not to catch it
as it falls towards the floor
of the city bus.

1:45 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

The disease continues...

Greeting me this morning at at 5:00 a.m. was the news that the infamous Crocodile Cafe is closing. We have already seen Kincora, Bus Stop and Pony close and also cafe Minnies. This is too many. Also the Showbox was bought but no plans to change anything about it yet...hmm, that makes me wonder if Lindsey Lohan will schedule a show than? I will plan on attending the last night of Crocodile though since its shared such a legacy music wise for my generation and our American culture; hate or love it, that tiny little play really paved the way for bands such as Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and showcased rare talent that wouldn't get play in today's Clearchannel saturated world. Seattle, I'm starting to fear that your trading in your culture for the numbness of an urban Yuppie mall. Next the Space Needle will decide to shut down and will become the ICannot Believes Its Not Butter Needle or lets rename Pike Place the Macy's Market Place while we are on a roll. We can then have the Moore theater sell out and become the Pop Stadium and showcase Matchbox 20, Shakira, and Eminem? How about Kid Rock at Neumo's headlining for Cher and Coldplay? I can wait to comb down 1st Ave and see all the talented street musicians than but wait, maybe they will all move to Portland? Wait, aren't they already?

Take heed, Portland, the disease of cool is heading your way...once infected then expect tumor growths of condos, high money biopsies, and surgery performed to take out culture. Its pricey, this disease and no one in Seattle seems to be able to afford it. Its taking the life right out of Rat City.

The croc is closed...sad, sad, day. The Bell doesn't ring anymore in Belltown. Thank god, they can't take away Mt. Rainer...I like to see them try.

4:14 PM - 2 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

The Old Girl.

She fell apart.
Almost perfectly.
Kinda planned.
A clean break.

She wouldn't say that
it was purposeful.
Letters of disgust
were sent
to whom they didn't concern.

She cut her hair
short and wore
strange Truck Stop cologne.

Somehow like overnight
she evicted her youth.
Listening to old 45's
wiping lipstick off on gas station napkins.

Someday much too late she will find
these napkins and follow them
down a crazy trail to tragically
guide her back somewhere she had
been before.

4:08 PM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

This Is How The West Does It.

At 30 I quit my horrid print shop job and took a better job offer. I said goodbye to good people there and gave them compliments they've waited years for and never got from a piss poor structure there. Said things that brought tears to their eyes out of kindness which has been neglected there to them. Stunned. The place was located on Seattle wet lands and was literally sinking closer to where it belonged...hell. Codes violated. No heat in the winter there. Asian workers chaffing the skin of their fingers to the bone. 2007 and this place still exists? Temp work haven to reduce people closer to hell than heaven. Fuck your mottos and your job placements even someone with their brain removed would know you were wrong on so many levels. You cared more about paper than the heart and you ripped hearts and not paper. Get my number down into your system and realize you don't own this account nor can you manage it. This soul is free!

I have taken a job from paper and taken it to the human heart where I will help those with cancer make themselves feel worth and allowed and not so miserable. You said we are here to say yes because if we don't somewhere else will. Rather desperate. Will I said no. And I said yes.

I want to do something that matters. I will not support your segregation or your wily ways or your mistreatment of the human body. I have changed your work structure by allowing no one else there to be threated like a 3rd class citizen and I have wagered my position to draw those good workers into better positions to which they deserve. I call my temp agency to find you have a mountain of code violations and complaints and yet you can say yes to the crap but you say no to your own treatment of employees? I will fight till the end of my days to see that places like you don't operate in this country. You should be ashamed of your practice. Its is a joke with no punch line delivered hanging and waiting for the comedy club to open at 9 o'clock. That time never comes.

And thank you for my manager who screamed at me to leave the building. Thats right. I found something better and I hope you do to.


Like the junk mail you process I'll put you where I process my junk mail. Merry christmas and happy kwannza.

your next candidate for hire should be our president. He's a hard worker and he deserves a break.



sincerely,

your "I spent a lot of money to train that employee, g"

and Seth, the other gay worker there who also quit today,

good for you!!!

11:56 PM - 2 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Requiem For Belmont Ave.

The condos must go up, I suppose, but they are not selling. Over 70 percent are not being sold and left vacant. I guess the mayor of Rain city wants it devoid of history, quirky residents and inhabited by space-ghosts at the expense of losing old haunts. Nothing new...I guess the West wasn't exactly totally won yet...time for the Machinery Corp take over which will ultimately replace humans and these cities will be wires and email messages turning red lights for robots on Segways.

Belmont Ave in Capital Hill had a long withstanding history here from apartments, bars, vintage boutique and good music. I visited the Pony and the Bus Stop to have Earthy cocktails and listen to 80's indie bands and folks tell stories of days not threatened by the take-over of condo's. Stories were passed around of fist fights, record shop haircuts, serial killers and used condoms, a grunge-dignity burp under an awning by Courtney Love, leather jackets, and pizza boy queers and Steven Burnstein poems about the noise of the rain applause. Belmont went out last night in bright art colors, drinks and Frances Farmer ironies. The culture chipped like it could against the incoming Baby Gap, Starbucks, American Apparel and the newest loft for Paris Hilton's future baby boy-toy last night realizing that stuff is generic. Remember Yuppies that your Belmont condo rests upon an earth saturated with glitter, musician sweat, hobo piss, acrylic paints and the beautiful and taboo natures of a real culture that made Belmont worthy in the first place. If you put your ear to this ground, you may hear the feedback of a more sensitive and wise time when you look around and see only Acme signs.

sincerly,

a Seattle Queer.

1:19 AM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Minds of the Oh Yeah (I’m having fun) that War.

WAR!
They said do it!
do it for them, do it for us,
most of all do it for yourself but
don't forget about everyone else.
Just do it. Do what? Do that?
Do this! a tit for a tat, a little
lovely rat eating metamucil
do it with vigor, do it with anger,
they said oh kid-pie, you're not angry enough!,,,,
they said.

don't be lost, don't be confused,
make your mind up because we cant do it for you.

life means nothing.
death is dead
grap your view points and crash them into
missile heads.
I'm trying to digest mercury
hangover on alcohol radiation.
and someone I don't know is my best friend.

if we are all democrats than we are all republicans

I'm listening to fluff,
while they dress in combat buff,
I forget. I care but I forget.
I protest but I forget.
I am American. I forget but
I recall it on the evening news and
then stick it to my soap opera heart,
go to work and forget.
the fear is so loud here/there is money to be made.
Glad I got that flu shot.

11:55 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment