Dr. Randall Rogers

It is the present no matter what time or date you read this. That is the beauty and pain of everything, including transporting thunk memories and futuristic scenarios. We have to be hopeful, after all death will save us all. For a while.


Now let’s get to poetry. Poetry involves thought-words. Writing it is fun. Or should be. Getting rejected submitting it to editors is not. Therefore we at the Transgender Lesbian Cowboy are temporarily altering our editorial policy. To engender submissions (from same-sex women) we are hereby resorting to a publish-all philosophy. No worry, we shall separate the wheat from the chafed in time, and quite probably retain the by-product. And promote it gaudily. Did you know fanfare means trumpets blowing? Not strumpets, trumpets. Larger than life little Donalds. Not McDonald’s, the real thing. The real secret sauce. Not just Thousand Island. No person is a Thousand Island – though Xavier Holland comes close. Tried to watch the film “Caligula” the other day, on the Ffilms.org free film site but the site of the naked Malcolm McDowell scared me off. Too with O’Toole, Peter and his scruffy Tiberiun countenance. I prefer my Malcolm drugging at the milk-bar. My O’Toole fastened down in my trousers. But Oh! The Caitlin of it all! Where, dare I ask, or whom, kept the dis-members only, ah, thing? Oh my lord and how long was the operation?


But forget all that. Forget all you can, even the intrusive memories, good and bad. Good because inevitably good turns into bad, and bad because…ah…well don’t forget the bad memories because the bad turns to good. Just ask Fredric Nietzsche when he is trans-valuing the lips of a horse. I remember watching ABC’s “Wide World of Sports” when I was a young humanoid and they always talked about “the agony of da-feet” when they showed a crashing ski jumper. I guess Italian influence has permeated culture more than ancient Rome. Also, I was at a bar in Phnom (Phnom means hill) Penh, Cambodia, speaking to an Englishman, insisting England was “a whole gay nation” when he did some silly-assed begging to differ. Great American I am I won the argument when I told him he was in denial and I don’t mean standing in a river in Egypt. The lady Khmer bartender laughed ( I was sitting slouched slurring words at the bar) and I hands downed the little slap and tickler. After all when I discovered they call underclassmen “faggots” at Eaton I just knew they weren’t calling them “bundles of sticks”. But enough for now, though this now will be present whosoever whensoever anysoever ganders upon these signifiers in any galaxy, universe, tiny or big, anywhere, anytime, if they make it.

Let’s make it; write, submit, we publish, all, for now. Let us immortalize at least for…for now…an always present at different times, everywhere. But I’m still angry for all those years the Lone Ranger was calling Tonto tonto which means “stupid” in Spanish. But what after all, can you do? Except die, to live on. Live on with your own written poetry published all by us, we cowboys of the unsure, confused kind. Thank your graciousnesses and right honorable highness-es of all kinds, for all times, of all places, in all ways. Even Muslims may your bombs dud and aims not be true…God willing.


The some kind of range rat,

Randall 4/19/2017


Randall Rogers

The Administration of Donald J. Trump





it leads to




He is

the hardest working


in showbiz history….


The Trumpster,


Donald John


his minions;




what it means

to be



a redefinition of

what it means

to be



nay, here, in

August 2018,


what it means

to be cool.




Fucking Right


Into perpetuity

my self

will be

showing me

groovy forever

and I’ll learn to adapt

to working

for minimum wage.



Rob Plath

right from the beginning

& around


listening to the man in black

i pretend
that i will
die after
each song
& it makes
me hear
the deep
voice better
like it’s a gun
not pressing
my temple
but inside
my skull
taking shots
at my war
& sparing
my peace
& the hard
is like the
are reins
shaking my
slow leper
heart into
a rapturous

Michael Lee Johnson

Old Men Walk Funny (V2)


Old men walk funny with shadows and time eating at their heels.

Pediatric walkers, prostate exams, bend over, then most die.

They grow poor, leave their grocery list at home,

and forget their social security checks bank account numbers,

dwell on whether they wear dentures, uppers or lowers;

did they put their underwear on?

They can’t remember where they put down their glasses,

did they drop them on memory lane U.S. Route 66?

Was it watermelon wine or drive in movies they forgot their virginity in?

Hammered late evenings alone bottle up Mogen David wine madness

mixed with diet 7-Up, all moving parts squeak and crack in unison.

At night, they scream in silent dreams no one else hears,

they are flapping jaws sexual exchange with monarch butterfly wings.

Old men walk funny to the barbershop with gray hair, no hair;

sagging pants to physical therapy.

They pray for sunflowers above their graves,

a plot that bears their name with a poem.

They purchase their burial plots, pennies in a jar for years,

beggar’s price for a deceased wife.

Proverb:  in this end, everything that was long at one time is now passive,

or cut short. Ignore us old moonshiners, or poets that walk funny,

“they aren’t hurting anyone anymore.”

J.D. Casey IV

Time Loves Heroes Heroes Hate Time


Heroes are ordinary people who make themselves timeless


Time loves heroes

In stove-pipe hat

Veve symboled suit

Cemetery lace cravat

Skull painted face

Bad blood veins


Time loves heroes

In tarot card skin

Tattooed and scarred

Wild wind-worn hair

Bone adorned jewelry

Outlaw’s boots


Time loves heroes

In feathered warbonnet

Dog chasing sun legs

Electric octopus arms

Iron horse blues

Rainbow eyes


Time loves heroes

In a porcelain soul

Underneath the bridge

Lost and broken

Abandoned and abused

Forgotten and alone


Time loves heroes

In all walks of life

Woman or man

Gay or straight

Black or white

Red or yellow

All genders and colors











All genders and colors

Yellow or red

White or black

Straight or gay

Man or woman

In all walks of life

Heroes hate time


Forgotten and alone

Abandoned and abused

Lost and broken

Underneath the bridge

In a porcelain soul

Heroes hate time


Rainbow eyes

Iron horse blues

Electric octopus arms

Dog chasing sun legs

In feathered warbonnet

Heroes hate time


Outlaw’s boots

Bone adorned jewelry

Wild wind-worn hair

Tattooed and scarred

In tarot card skin

Heroes hate time


Bad blood veins

Skull painted face

Cemetery lace cravat

Veve symboled suit

In stove-pipe hat

Heroes hate time


Time is a flat circle that strips heroes taken for granted away






Jeff Bridges

The Dude


Hunter S. Thompson

Gonzo Journalist


Oscar Zeta Acosta

Brown Buffalo


Maya Angelou

Civil Rights Poetess


Charles Bukowski

Dirty Old Man


Jim Morrison

Lizard King


Martin Luther King Jr.

Activist Minister


John Lennon



John Henry “Doc” Holiday

Huckleberry Gunfighter Dentist


Aleister Crowley

Occultist Wizard


Bill Hicks

Conspiracy Theorist Comedian


George Carlin

Truth Speaking Comedian


George Jung

Cocaine Kingpin


Keith Richards

Highlander Guitarist


Leonard Cohen

Musician Poet


Leonard Nimoy

Actor Poet


William S. Burroughs

Madman Novelist


Elvis Presley

Drug-Addled Rockabilly


Marilyn Monroe

Drug-Addled Mistress


Ron Jeramy



Changming Yuan

Man Is the Only Animal

That Blushes. Or Needs To. – Mark Twain


Or that can remain on friendly terms, says Samuel

Butler, with the victims he intends to eat until he

Eats them; that shows interest in the sex lives of

Other animals; that is able to invent a story and

Spread it over time and space; that insists on its

Uniqueness, superiority and omniscience; that

Refrains from farting or fucking in the wild open; that

Tries to live not only in the moment, but also among

The pasts and futures; that is capable of making medicines

Machines and machinations; that can readily convert

Himself from one ism to another; that enjoys playing

Words along this line as Nelson in his ‘Funny Bird Sex.’





Few are really aware of

Such universes

Existing beyond our own

Even fewer of so many other versions

Of selfhood living

In each of them, let alone

This simple secret:

At the depth of consciousness

Lives a quantum

Or soul as we prefer to call it

A particle, demon and/or angel dancing

The same dance afar, far apart

In an entanglement

J.J. Campbell

a desperate act for the approval of strangers


it’s a blank page


words flying by

at a million miles

per hour


the average person

can’t do this shit


you then think of

all the bad poetry

out there


the average people

are doing it


you are not special


you were not blessed

with any rare talent


it’s all a trick


smoke and mirrors


that’s why you can’t

make enough to call

it a profession


it’s a hobby


a desperate act for the

approval of strangers


a lonely voice in a

hallway with no echo


an old dirt road where

all the old poets go

to die


look at the scars

and know it’s time



even you deserve to be loved


sometimes it’s catharsis

and sometimes it’s just

a good shit that removes

everything but the brain


a passing thunderstorm

and the bold belief that

even you deserve to

be loved


your father never had

the time to teach you

about fools, dreamers

and the need for a few

dark souls to dig ditches

and graves


all the young girls in the

houses around here are

growing up so fast


you’ll probably be in a

different world by the

time they start exploring

the dirty parts of their



it’s a faint taste of blood


it’s another shooting on

the west side of town


all the old lovers have

moved on years ago


one of these days


you might get around

to it