North Hollywood

Waking up too much sun and dirt
strong coffee and benzodiazapines
cowboy boots and native finger rings
ladies in their panties, getting into cars
strip club fancy panties all over this city
lingering nancies of the night
unafraid of the morning light
shining on their oh what a sight

oh what an amazing sight
country roads and streetside haciendas galore
lizards and reptiles, lacey banditas
and baby strappin' cholitas
tattoed to the core

leather face, stubby fingers, calloused hands guitar girls
long haired rocker boys sleeping in the haystack
heroin overdose a thing of the past
lingering on
pasty cake grace
all dressed in black

North hollywood reservoir
just on the otherside of this a here wash
the wrong side of the tracks
frankly, mr. shankly steven would sew
this we all know
ghetto suburb mexico white trash rainbow

how we feel today

The girl so many years to hear the same thing
and still keep her around
not really a friend
for she is never really around

so there was a party here and there these last few years
but its still no excuse
to perpetuate the lie that she is a friend
when she gives nothing nothing nothing
and gets nothing in return

except a face to frown upon
a place to look down upon

she does not care to be a friend anyway
so i guess we are all better off this way

the oldness of our days the oldness of our ways
should not dictate does not indicate how we feel today

The Atheist

I don't want babies, and sometimes feel so bad
like I'm not the girly girl I'm supposed to be
because I am going to end up sad and lonely

I can't imagine the suckling of breast milk nor the late night feedings
I am much too simple

I can't imagine the shopping the decorating the waiting for the baby
the purchasing and the planning and the demanding of my time
I am much too peaceful

He wonders why I feel bad, perhaps you are in denial
that's so easy to say, so cliche'
I just feel bad and thats not why anyway

It's the way I have to listen and feign interest in the girls
my good friends discuss the alien in their belly
the amazing amazing spiritual baby birth process which I will never know
I wonder if this makes me shallow

I don't want to be shallow, any more than I already am
Perhaps I fear my lack of spirituality makes me an ugly dry atheist
which I never talk about, and cringe when people mention God
every single time. I die.

It's been this way for as long as I can remember. I don't tell anyone
haven't in years. Don't want to argue because
It's not that I don't believe in alien life forms or ripples
or even intelligence of a larger kind
it's just that I know it's a machine churning and churning
nature will control and do what is natural organic and
us people we just don't know
constantly trying to control
there is no God no ground control, it's just nature and it's cycle

My pregnant friend thinks its noble not to frivolously populate
my other friend, mother of two, says you get to be the crazy aunt
accepting each others life as thier own to navigate
other girls wonder why I don't feel like they
I think it's a giant gash in our ways, these girls have gone
It's a giant canyon they think their way, being a mother, letting child ravage body.
Especially at this age...or perhaps any age...
There is more to life I say.....I think I've officially gone my distance ways.

Girl, Be Healthy and Smart

Early to bed, early to rise
It's a pattern I've always owned
but in these recent times honed
The opportunities will be different
Alone

My rhythm follows this cycle
Though I'd love to eek out more hours in the day
Hanging with the boys all night
But when they get their second wind
To finish chores undone and art a more
I've somewhere else, off to be
no more to be seen

I swear I have tired to change
but I guess it isn't me
I've got this inner clock that tells me
Girl be healthy and smart
Wealth may or may not be yours
Girl you gotta be only smart
Be only yourself, when sleep takes over
no need to fight it
tomorrow I am better

compliments

I am so tired of the bragadocious so tired of my niceness
my nice compliments day in day out
i just want to be left alone to linger in my own silence, in my own peace
in my own place, in my own space
left alone to sleep on the floor or the couch at 5 in the morning.
how dare you notice that one time, that one measly time when you are fucking preoccupied with the tides of the moon no connection to what is going on with you
overweight and detached like most of America

So I do a line of cocaine here and there and you don't mind, in fact you supply it to me, let me do what I want
well I want to sleep on the floor. I want to be left alone. I don't want to want or need to need, or want to need or need to want anymore. And I don't want to do any of this with you anymore.

No, I am not mad, and you might think I am, but I am just being me, the way you get to be you, and I don't question or complain, and you compliment me the same this way
I let you be you, and I wait for a bone.

I know what I have to do, but in theory it becomes ridiculous and hard hand swept defeat. Just let me sleep. Just let be me you do, and then I remember it is perfect this way.

So Now You Say You're a Painter

So now you say you're a painter and I obsess with Henry Miller
We've all got our new or old endeavors, and I've finally moved past the rock band fancy
Gonna experiment with sounds, because the music is in me and write the books, while he fills his well of inspiration
getting A's and building the machine, undoing the system, movies and movies
and you paint your pictures, no band drama no pain

So now you say you're a painter and the rest is folklore
stories and storytellers all musicians are anyway, artists in our own ways
and the drug addicts have gone sober and the pool is overflowing with water

I realize who my friends are and who my friends can be, and I'm getting soft around the belly
but it still feels pretty
because the skirts I wanna wear with Vera and boots I wanna wear with Mary
I do it anyway, and it all still feels pretty

Henry didn't try quite as hard, and perhaps he didn't have to....but neither do we or you
So maybe everyone has turned painter or producer or writer or some bull shit endeavor which I barely believe anymore
anyway

but it still feels pretty

Henry Miller

The same desires have lost their flavor
I have been pronouncing this mantra all week
I thought I would be more excited
for the dress and the regalia for the rock and the sunshine
Two houses while the poor reside in un air conditioned apartments
while I live with a houseful of motel habitants and participants
writing, living in squalor and tight quarters provide
the inspiration for this here and the writing
doing laundry at the laundromat and I know what my friends would say
how unglamorous
but obviously they don't know art or Henry Miller
and that I don't care if I live this way forever