more destination than place
Los Angeles remains a
shifting landscape of
water and sand
mercy has little to do with life here
nor is this city the cruel, friendless,
kitten with a whip that many
would like to believe
make of it what you will
these eviscerated roads are my river
lit by the constant final flash of fame
there is a cheerful ignorance
a chance meeting &
luck like gold that cannot be
a common atom
& stars that trick the
water with their
do not wash your wars in it
take your holy rituals to the
precious fountains built by your
agencies of fear
wine from the fallout
& drink your
there is a river
a giving river that will
sing you safely
a river of
where you can
& leave your casual sadness
walking sideways at the
meet me there
whoever you are
& we will agree to
Because Rich Ferguson asked me to.
He didn’t tell me, he asked me.
I don’t know.
Socialist? You wouldn’t know what a socialist was if it bit you in your teabags, Lipton!
Okay, I’ll quit beating around the Bush era and bite back, Trickledown. Been putting together a Poetry Bomb.
I bought an old military practice bomb back in November of last year. And watch who you’re calling lefty, righty! I just happen to be left-handed.
No, it’s a place to find stuff online Fox hunter. Guy sold it to me for a hundred bucks, and he delivered it!
Yeah, good deal, huh?
Nothing really. But with a little help from some friends I’ve been converting it. Took it apart, removed all the insides, put it back together, cut a hole in it and filled it full of poetry from around the world. Taken me almost six months.
Nope, taking it on tour around the country, five weeks. Leaving April 28th from L.A., The Poetry Bomb Couch Surfing Across America Tour of Words 2010.
You got a problem with being healthy?
Phoenix, Albuquerque, El Paso, Austin, Memphis, New Orleans…
Yes and no, be hitting the North Carolina coast, drop interior to Asheville. Then head to Nashville at about four weeks, north to Chicago, then south and west to Denver, Sacramento and then, home sweet apartment, Tea Partier! Grab a cup of coffee, prop up my pups and relax.
Maybe I’m just a few cards shy of 52. Well, I guess in my own feeble commie way, I’m trying to bring people together… community, education. Shine a little light in a sometimes dark world via the poem.
Indeed they are, Captain. But this is a Poetry Bomb, Palintologist, not some gun show masquerading as a lovefest. War, the artifice and artifacts of war, were all invented to create and enforce agreements. The Poetry Bomb was created to foster disagreements. Disagreements, dissent are the cornerstone of our democratic system. Education is the key.
Not high, eh? There you go thinking again. And get it right, I’m a Groucho Marxist okay? Hey, if Monty Python were a snake, it would’ve bit you in the clip art! Yeah, well, I disagree with you too, but that’s kind of the point. We agree to disagree, got it? And that, my flag waving friend, is what America’s supposedly all about.
Good, then we disagree.
People can find the tour information on The Poetry Bomb Facebook fan page.
Nope, the poetry’s all inside Elsie.
She’s the bomb.
The Poetry Bomb.
Elsie is The Poetry Bomb, I named her after my Grandmother Elsie.
Nope, she’s sleek, blue, pin striped by Skratch and quite beautiful.
Nobody gunslinger. Skratch is a guy, a pin striper, an artist. He painted beautiful designs all over her and helped make her pretty.
Okay, okay… you win! Just say good night Dick.
Who says? Good night Dick.