Hobobun

[saw]

I remember Reagan's Ray Gun
blasted the air traffic controllers
and wages have been stagnant ever since

Blows my mind how that man could ever be romanticized, 'cause he was always a bad actor.
I like Bernie. Been saying the same thing for 30 years, never wavered. David against Goliath.
But in the end, the system is kaput. So tell me, how does a man with a conscious proceed ?
Too old to take up arms, other than help an even older person across the street, cuz we all need help sometime. And the street runs red with violence, even the cars are dangerous to an old codger like me.When i reach down for that other gear, for that burst of speed to get across the road, it's not there. Thee vandals stole the handles. Positively Fourth Street is now Elm Street. And Freddie Kruger wears a three piece suit. So I dive into the arts to try to stay sane.

I write me a poem or two
drop a line of low notes, paint
a picture that lifts me up from the truth

[WIREMAN]

The irs blues....sitting here waiting forever for an agent or rep...."please hold"....3 years in a row I been fucked with....now I'm wondering what's up with my return that shoulda been dealt with in May......all because I became an independent contractor via getting paid to do poetry readings....big mistake....now I quit doing em and I still get fucked with....never happened before.....ugh.....still waiting sheeeeeezzzzz.....

Poor man gets fucked
Banker gets a bailout
Needed dollars in rain

Still waiting...listening to this insane music.....

[saw]

spent many hours on the phone
with the IRS, they owed me money
for a change, and they sat on it...so
i says to the guy, so if I file late
you can charge me a penalty right ?
He says yes we can...so I get flip
and say then will I be receiving penalty fees
because you have delayed me my money
for almost a year....and he laughs
but I won't back down, say to him
now come on, fair is fair...what's good
for the goose is good for the gander, let
me talk to your supervisor....so he cuts me off

[WIREMAN]

Notes on dharma bums....keep losing draft pad writings on iPad ....at least here they are saved...dharma bums was first book I ever read....1973 it was....a turn on from a friend in palo alto Cali, who said if u can't get into this book it's hopeless....I did....never looked back...I sit reading Kerouac tonight, years later....

The need to write
Noises outside my windows
Cool breeze time change

Such a short span is a life....decisions made when young go a long way.....never stuck, no never....ultimately you make the choice....in love....in job....in it all....jack chose the bottle...a slow death....the horror of big sur....smell of oceans death....yet the grim reaper haunts us all....collective we endure....no life, no death.....awake and in dream.....time a stand, standstill.....hummingbird flapping in the breeze....

Flowers planted tubular
The bells ringing, Sunday morn
Wings flapping endlessly

Still I write....not wanting to lose the thought essence....if jack only knew....but he did...so do all of us from time to time....nothing really matters....

[the mingo]

I got tons of pure shit filed away on Wordpad, it's cuz I never got over wanting to play with words. Poetry seemed a natural habitat from about age 12 & on zippity-do-da - hand me a word list & it's la-la-la Tonto Ranger away - now I'm sitting here by this river, the parade of fallen leaves it's been carrying for the past three weeks, almost nothing today, the leaves mostly gone now - already had the first snowfall almost two weeks ago -

poetry is all fucked exactly
as the lives
from which it comes

I can't remember when I first read Kerouac - back there somewheres - I can remember when I first read Brautigan - I remember what it was like to hold a book of poetry in my hands, I remember the day when my mind quit identifing sound as words & just went for the sound of the conversations around me - no drugs involved in that - it just happened - I was astonished

hootchie bread dead
igloo igloo igloo
travel ravel donnie boo
muffy internal telegraph
stop stop go on
indians eating up creeks
so I wonder wonder wonder
at things

Basho always stopping at the shrines along the way - me, I just kept going, always trying to catch consciousness in the act - now I'm living here by this river thinking about pockets, they are the handiest thing - the Indians never had pockets so they made pouches & bags for the carry, you can see that in the paintings and old photographs & museums -

My woman just headed for the living room - she's gonna look in on her fire - this place came with a woodstove & she has fallen in love with it - I get to chop the wood.

this poem
takes abode
in a baby boondocks
centermost with a focus
alongside January posing as
bendable rooftop combat
man, this shit's inevitable

[saw]

Was supposed to go look
at my friend's mother's house
see had to leave

a lot of years looking at work that needs to done, and I can now walk in and see all the steps
in perfect order, the layers of rehabilitation. It's like breathing when I look at a potential project, the lungs know....so does the heart and the brain....there are no more mysteries ...
Remodeling has a life I've lived over and over like past lives of my father and grandfather...The smell of sawdust is the perfume of a desired lover...the systematic set up and breakdown are legs along the journey....little towns that never change....the river mills of ancestors ensuring the water wheels turn the gears of invention and art....the creativity is the fun....there are always more than one way to deal with things that beg for new life, and I get to suggest possibilities to transform the mundane into the exhilarating....it's satisfying on so many levels....smiles on faces, the joys of making so so, better

we will go tomorrow now
when the other tradesmen can come
so my friend can kill more birds with one stone

[WIREMAN]

Low sparkin' Stevie
Bullets laid to rest
Stopped by the falling leaves

.....of red and gold.....tony Bennett singing at the World Series, dontcha know he's a painter too....as was miles Davis....started reading "the horn" by John clellon Holmes last night...kinda beat/surreal jazz novel.....thelonius monk definitely beat/surreal cat....I remember reading jack for first time, it was in Palo Alto in '73....can't remember reading RB for first time but I do know it was "in watermelon sugar".....funny how all these writers I love committed suicide....I mean hunter Thompson...RB....jack by alcohol....really didn't dig Ernest all that much though...Henry lived a long life....ferlinghetti's 96.....Gary snyders 85....so I guess I gots to reevaluate that statement.....

Basho strode the deep north
Ryokan sat still
Never moved mountains

[saw]

only the good die young
but that was billy joel ya know
maybe a piano man doesn't meet any bad guys
lots of folks die young, hundreds
in baltimore ever year that passes
there is powerful graffiti on brick walls
tells the story as recorded by those
that have been there, those that
live it day in and, out of their minds
it's rough on the streets, art is a tonic
better than castor oil, better than V-8
powerful as crack cocaine, speed balls
art on north avenue is the voice of the people
and I saw it in amsterdam and paris
the system cannot silence the dispossessed
no matter what they do to them
singing on the corner, dancing in the alley
without two nickels, even a bed

[WIREMAN]

....slowly these mountains move....written in the rapture....samples of the kindle world...taxes finally show their face....Calvary like the circling of wagons...much needed backup against the weather....and what did I do today?....get much needed rest, have brunch at the bar....walk the streets for a bit....simple things.....6:33 pm. and now I write .....simple hobobun excursions while on my way to the other side ......

Play that funky music
A bit of a chill blew in
Leaves tumble to ground

[saw]

scraping the shit
right off yer shoes, oh Sweet Virginia
the Stones like the country

out in the fields Roger Daltry screams at the crows, he's in the book of Who's Who, a chaser
of stagnant birds on the other side of the pond....why make sense any more...you can't !
insanity is cultivated by clever Madison Avenue ghouls with six figure salaries, and eight hairy legs....i can't live there...never have....just marvel at how the hordes sign up for a piece of pie....and the pie-man is like the Soup Nazi, not like Simple Simon.....he's a mean one like
Mr. Grinch.....I gotta close my eyes in public...wear the blackest shades....but sometimes you know I'll catch a dude singing at the top of his lungs at the bus stop, and he gives me faith, or three girls playing jump rope in a block of boarded houses with artificial flowers in a big cauldron looking like the real thing....and it gives me a shot in the arm as they say...unlike the heroin around the corner...a good shot....a double shot of my baby's love

The Who had it right
No one knows what it's like
to be the bad man, the sad man
behind blue eyes

[WIREMAN]

....sowebohemian memories......going to the progressive dinner on Hollins St. and watching the little girls on S.Carey st. double dutching the jump rope to this amazing clapping rhythm...
There's a time just before dawn on a Sunday morn, when all is silent on the street....even the rats must be asleep.....it's an incomparable beauty that exists in this silence....it lasts for a couple of hours then the insanity begins to return....oh the stories I could tell and probably will in due time .......

Rhapsody on hallowed streets
Sounds of silence intervene
A chilly wind beckons

[Artguy]

early this sunday morn in my studio a gentle sun washes across the concrete floor and my heart is light...

[saw]

what will we do when the sun
does not return, how will we
feel the spirit of tomorrow

day after day alone on a hill, the man of a thousand faces tries to bring a smile to everyone, and we must be ready to suck up his grin, for the sun is a beautiful way to warm a heart, but
ooh the changing climate, the earthfuckers with $$$$ in their eyes they have another plan for our friend, or is it a lack of a plan to spew your bad breath on others with little regard for continuance.....who is to blame in the end is of no consequence...live for today and you will be fine...eckhard tolle stresses...Now is all there is....forget about your lousy chilhood and your plans to retire, BE HERE....NOW.....breathe in the newest breath and let it warm your heart....just like the sun

when the sun comes
we will dance like giddy children
when she doesn't
we will dance even wilder

[WIREMAN]

.....the day the earth stood still....crows were alighting on trees, nibbling on van gogh's ear....a resonating sound that even shocked that womanizing pgo man....I sat on a park bench
Exchanging stares with a man named aqualung as robin trower set the mood on his guitfiddle.... WB and Allen g. Never had it so good....they were all caught up in tangerine dreams as jack slept on Parisian sidewalks because Gregory wouldn't let him in the door.....I found my sugar plum at the bottom of rumi's wishing well...this time....even the rags to riches village denizens could not keep up the pace....with their pollock drip and Warhol cans displayed all I could do was sit back and wonder at the through, threw, thru......

Japanese gardens
A slug on a vine under glass
Village of snow

[saw]

Kerouac me back
to ole Virginny, camping
with the beat books
in my overalls, my head
in the clouds

Burroughs had his steely dan, Ginsberg howled like the freight trains that split the city in half......City Lights was groovin' on a sunday afternoon, while I was living in a MASH army tent in the hills...no internet CANYOU IMAGINETHAT ?.....no cell phones.....STOP, YOU'RE FUCKIN WITH ME....no no it's true man....we were just hanging in the forest reading reading poetry and getting High on Life....playing guitars ....It was so nice not knowing what a terrorist was
worse guy i heard of back then was Charlie Manson.....not Charlie Hebdo.....that freaked me out....but scale-wise, that was nuthin' compared to UZI's.....I want to go back to the mountains....i want my innocence back.....I want to say PEACE a lot....FAR OUT.....Think only about music

I'm trying to get there
meditating my way to zentown
I'm building a little home there