The Gun promised paradise in the pale moonlight parables stuttered in the wind no wise men to answer the riddles or to guide us past the burning street lamps   A baby and mother both cry as she presses child to a dry tit of desperation that once carried the milk of paradise while somewhere…

Standing on a roof Looking out on Los Angeles You and I on top of the world While the moon ate the center of the sun Threw the city of light Into shadows   All eyes cast up Shaded by hands Or looking through dusky lens Primal memories Of the muscle and mind Like ancient…

You should’ve seen her   She wore a funky dress That clung to her body Like a second skin Of shimmering snake scales.   She was lithe And full of grace.   Whenever she walked by The Vultures smoking cigarettes Followed…   A whole flock… A thousand hungry eyes…   With a kittens purr And…

Assume a posture of confidence Such simple smiles Fueled by erotic violence   Picking at an empty scar So deep we have fallen so far Into our desperate thirst filled need Laughing gently as we bleed   Hidden in the shadows of suburban blight From the helicopters glare our eyes robbed of sight Tears reflect…

The flowers blooming In the midnight glass vase Brought a quiet comfort And a vaguely pleasant memory Of that brief glimpse of her.   Such a somber delight To be gently teased By the slow uncertain Nature of courtship   Such a Pleasant ache This Desire To be touched by her   ©workingclassproduction.com, 2016  

Eyes hungry and empty Sharp hand glittering Flashing knives Blades bite deep Like teeth Soul rending Broken bloody Not now Nevermore Nevermore I love you I hear the words Dry whisper of the razor Sliding across the honing stone Like dead leaves rustle   I hang my head low To cry Or die Or laugh…

I was talking With your sister tonight We got around To talking about When she Gets around To finding Herself a Beau She told me She didn’t want To find a fella like me I felt awkward Because I knew That what She was saying Was so very true I want to think That maybe…

The coffee has grown cold and the crumpled Marlboro burns away like a stale memory next to the others in the ashtray Born of Catholics but not Catholic I attended her mass but did not take communion The coffee has grown cold and the crumpled Marlboro burns away like a stale memory next to the…

Like ice cream trucks Singing songs out In some neighborhoods Here In my neighborhood We hear Nearby POLICE SHOOTING RANGE Shots ringing out M-16’s AR-15’s M-4’s MP-5s BRRRrrrap, BRRRRRrraaap BBBRRRAAAppp Popopopopopop Beretta Glock Smith & Wesson 5.56 9mm .40calibre .357 Magnum Sounds of freedom and safety Boom boom boom boom Everyday all day Just like…

You see the craziest things in A run down dope den Human degradation Lost in the inhuman Magnification Of the throes of addiction Sometimes in the midst of the frenzy You see Moments of caring humanity Tainted with cruelty Crawling on the floor On all four Searching for the lost hope Of shaking hands dropping…

And there are nights Like this night Where I swear to Christ The wind is teasing Temptation again Subtle fingers through The strands of yesterday’s hair Sighing gentle breeze Through the broken limbs Of memory Let’s go crazy again Abandon to the primal Shed clothes and morality Rut in abandon as an animal And blame…

Cigarette burns scar the bar top Her cheap Lee-Press-On nails Tap out of tune To the sagging jukebox Old sad slow songs Of bad booze Worse men And good dope Fill her mind As she looks Around the tavern Looking for someone Or Something new To do She don’t really care Either way these days…