Okay
To be vulnerable is beautiful to fall down is beautiful to get off your knees is beautiful for you need to eat dirt to appreciate the earth for in the end and there’s always an end only madmen see
To be vulnerable is beautiful to fall down is beautiful to get off your knees is beautiful for you need to eat dirt to appreciate the earth for in the end and there’s always an end only madmen see
Down and out at the Sacred Grounds Cafe San Francisco reading from my book clouds on hanger street
‘‘Twas gang out of Melbourne Cup three , four years ago. Guy & gals. I hairy eyebrow beast. Arm on shoulder poet , next to him , poet owner of Collected Works, next to him musician and off course the gals at the Stingo hotel sounds like a William Styron novel.
It’s time to wake up to find the courage to speak up to rage. to go nuts, to speak truths, to deny the dark entity of Nazism , to deny the darkness of lies that tell you love is hate, and that anger is the rage of a beautiful flower, it’s time to say fuck […]
Day after day you walk that street to Piedmonte for cigarettes and red wine , day after day you see the same faces , shapes, colours of the day , the cool manufactured types that haunt the cafes, pubs, books open, newspapers spread, an artist is pencil drawing on a napkin, a circus performer is […]
Your life is your life Your life is your life Your life Is your life Don’t be Shakespeare Don’t be Dylan Thomas Don’t be Charles Bukowski Your life is your life No matter the damage Your life is Yours .
Swallow the universe Till nothing is left Become silence !
I humbly submit this as a greater poem than Bluebird. Tough, uncompromising, brutal, and beautiful.. Bukowski was no angel but he was a great writer, though not as great as Henry Miller. Under Capricorn was majestic in its language and poetry a kin of James Joyce , however this is a great reading and no […]
He lived in a hut not far from the monastery . It was tiny , an old wood hut like Jeramiah Johnson. He told me he was a crazy poet in the 1960’s. Golden Park was big time in San Francisco. He knew poets who knew poets and ended up in the Paris Review thirty […]
Walking long road summerchild through green hills laden with bushlands of smoke and song, walking Buddha road of crazy wisdom vajraanya chants between roo and fog and insane Tara moons , walking road of gone casino, lost dollars , long lost steps ringing girlfriend with last cent accussed of infidelity during breakfast morn , walking […]