Lloyd Bailey

“Bad Hair Day”

By Lloyd Bailey

 

 

The corridors seem distant, seem darker.

There are no bright countenances.

The morning hues are haunted and hostile.

Where have all my friends wandered?

Anger and aggression have replaced harmony.

It invades my R.E.M.

turning my morning wood

into pallid putty;

this is no way to meet the day…

I splash cold water on my face,

but the mirror doesn’t change.

It’s in the eyes

that never wash away.

The fresh air inhales stale,

ominous clouds dim the sun.

I squint my eyes still.

I’ve gone searching for my friends.

I’m looking for what I lost.

 

 

 

“Working for the Man Sucks!”

By Lloyd Bailey

 

 

Like a bullhorn he bellows,

“Before ye boys breach my domain,

with your bad manners and boisterous ways,

I require an inspection from coiffure to boot tips

beginning with crop, parted firmly down leftern crown,

countenances scrubbed squeaky,

eyes forward and determined,

and chin bare of whiskers.”

 

Now he marches up and down the line,

making adjustments,

“You sir, cannot enter my kitchen

until you starch that collar.

You, tighten up that shirt bottom.

You look bloated about your belly.

You, boy, unbuckle that belt. You’ve missed a loop in the back.

Good Christ man, you consider those pants creased?

They’re flat as a flapjack. Invest in an iron immediately.

Pull up that pant leg, sir. I suspect a sockless wonder.

What’s this? Ankle socks? You, sir, are not your sister.

Calf high gentlemen and colored black.

Now fetch your eyes fellows

and follow this man’s shoe shine”

He bends over and picks some biscuit in the reflection,

 

And continues,

“You, separate six dozen eggs.

You, take the whites, turn them into mayonnaise.

Make it tight.

You, make the yolks into hollendaise.

Snap to it boys. I haven’t got all day.”

As he marches through his office door,

counting,

“1,2,3,4. 1,2,3,4.”

 

 

 

“Bellow the Bowery off the Commons”

By Lloyd Bailey

 

Front porch a veritable ashtray,

wooden steps a smoker’s playground

of used butts and char black burns,

ash flakes reign everything.

 

Men speckle stoop sipping coffee,

thousand yard stares,

scattered “yeps” and “uh-huhs,”

foot shufflings and watch checkings.

Ruby sun in western purple sky

intimates time.

 

Tobacco rich air permeates the room –

that pungent after smoke stench –

wares heavy on the place

with a thick black coffee aftertaste.

Pensive is the mood

as eye contacts are made,

and head nods are had.

(Donuts sit stale in a box.)

After serenity is granted

everyone settles in

for the long haul.

 

Experience, strength, and hope

is the message.

New comers are most important,

but none are present.

This is no place for amateurs;

this meeting is not en vogue.

Gravely voices prevail.

Five o’clock shadows

are warranted.

You get two minutes.

Then shut up.

Sip, don’t slurp,

lest you relish the stink eye.

 

Holding hands is forbidden,

same goes for shoulder wraps.

When it’s time

stand up, bow your head, and clasp your fingers.

Now recite the “Lord’s Prayer.”

 

Outside it’s cool, freshing, and dark

save for firefly glows of cigarette tips.

The evening is cathartic.

Men wait to be delivered.

Someone suggest more

coffee and donuts

at a diner

down the street.

Most everyone migrates.

No one wants to be alone,

not at time like this.

 

 

Grant Guy

His Soul Was Operated On

By
Grant Guy

His soul was operated on in 1998
He no longer needed it & had it extracted
He had not loved since 1971

He gave up on man & the world in 1972
When God’s roof caved in on him
He gave up on God in 1963

He could have ended it all

Jumping on the Disraeli Bridge
in the Fall of 1949

 

None of that was good enough

Better to be a thorn in the side of the world

Yes he decided

 

Except he did in a cholera outbreak

In the summer of 1903

 

 

so this is love

by

Grant Guy

 

the twilight zone of love

i don’t want it

you can keep

put it in your pipe

& smoke it

dump the ashes in the ashtray of blues

 

what good is love in the twilight zone of love

 

compost

 

Wayne F. Burke

shopping

I went shopping at Price Chopper
and walked around pushing my cart
up and down the aisles
and trying to remember what it was
that I needed to buy
and finally
I came to check-out
and pulled in behind a baby
in a bassinet
and I said “hi baby,” and
pulled on the baby’s toes
and he moved his feet a little
but not much
(had a pacifier in his mouth)
the mother, a blonde
had a harried-look to her pinched-face
and three other kids jumping around her
and the cart;
the teenage girl cashier pleasantly curt
the bagger something of a dim-bulb;
I left with my bags
under my arms
and without having connected to
anyone
in that place.

 
Larry

my friend Larry’s obituary was not in any
major newspaper;
he was a little man
anonymous
a home-town creation,
part owner of
a granite shed
who
one night
pulled another man out of
his, Larry’s, ex-wife’s bed
and when a cop
arrived
Larry picked up a shot gun
and pointed it at the cop
who pointed his pistol
in response
and in the stand-off
Larry said, “if you shoot me, I will shoot you,”
and Larry’s relatives
who gathered
shouted at the cop
“shoot him! shoot him!”
but the cop, a rookie
was shaking too much to shoot
straight
and nobody died that
night
and Larry got off with probation
plus
six months to serve instead
of the years he could have got
and maybe deserved
for aiming a gun
at a cop.

 
Blarney

I went to J C Penny’s to buy
a swim suit but
they had nothing remotely resembling
a swim suit, and
I bought a towel instead
and t-shirt with a pocket
(got to have the pocket)
and went home and
took a shower
and was excited to use the
new towel
which was soft and
felt good on my skin,
then I put my new t-shirt on
and walked downtown,
feeling good,
almost like a new man,
and I went to the meeting
but
it was not much,
same old members
same old blarney
stone shit
I thought
man
I have got to get me
some kind of
new life.

Randall Rogers

The Administration of Donald J. Trump

 

Is

wisdom

because

it leads to

increased

survive-ability.

 

He is

the hardest working

president

in showbiz history….

 

The Trumpster,

stellar

Donald John

and

his minions;

 

are

redefining

what it means

to be

president

engendering

a redefinition of

what it means

to be

presidential

 

nay, here, in

August 2018,

redefining

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

whenever
we
embraced
we’d
each
be
holding
a
burning
cigarette
behind
one
another’s
back
smoke
climbing
our
spines
& around
our
wine
buzzed
skulls
like
we
were
rehearsing
our
love
on
a
funeral
pyre

_____________________

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
against
my temple
but inside
my skull
taking shots
at my war
& sparing
my peace
& the hard
strumming
is like the
strings
are reins
shaking my
slow leper
heart into
a rapturous
gallop

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

 

Time

Loves

Heroes

 

 

Heroes

Hate

Time

 

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

 

 

 

Antiheroes

 

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

Dreamer

 

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

Hedgehog