Mistress Addiction

she will bury you all
put you underneath a permanent ten ton wall
and when you think morning will come to call
it's nightfall:
Mistress Addiction
come to hold your lonely hand
she gives such sweet and simple pleasures
it's impossible to understand

she carries her heavy gun
that no one has ever been able to outrun
and when you think there's a good chance you'll have fun
you're undone:
Mistress Addiction
come to hold your lonely hand
she gives such sweet and simple pleasures
it's impossible to understand

she won't provide a clear eyed view
she keeps her sights set directly on you
and when you think you know what she wants to do
foolish you:
Mistress Addiction
come to hold your lonely hand
she gives such sweet and simple pleasures
it's impossible to understand

there's a puzzle mark on your forehead
it's too late to remember what she once said
and when everyone else has gone to bed
you are dead:
Mistress Addiction
come to hold your lonely hand
she gives such sweet and simple pleasures
it's impossible to understand

2 drops of water

i'm 49
and WILL
soon be 72 years of age
i'm ready for the next page
of astonishing images
representing the human body
and the potty
where yellow isn't the coward
that Noel was
when he slept on a fat mattress
playing electric bass
and meeting experienced people
who kept their pulse
inside a well-seasoned wallet or a stylistic purse
either of which could be found hanging in an art gallery
in New Jersey, USA.
the images i saw in my childhood
include the red-backed sofa in a small living room
underneath which was found
tomato soup spilled like Rothko paints
on the cheap carpet threads
and simple hard beds
and baby peeps unable to fly
dropping fast without a sound to steel steps
descending sharply to the Mediterranean Sea
for their non-stop service to Barcelona
and instead of dead within the hour
they became a white center leading to the Rockefeller Center
and real ice
which for a young explorer was especially nice
shaded from blue to pink
like a jumping rabbit in my neighborhood
holding a rose in his mouth to better think
i led a horse by the neck
climbing from the smoking galley to the upper deck
to find the ladies in a brothel
who spoke Vietnamese with a fluent ease
as i kneeled to my knees
and saw the massive oversized ears of a girl
who lived in Paris with her girlfriend
although she was in constant hiding
like a distorted cube
in shades of muted grey and brown
stripped down and streamlined
an hour glass figure
there in the mix with an accordion
making music with scraps of metal and wood
odds and ends
folds and bends
when this becomes that
the three dancers become grotesque
and i could just about recognize myself
ripped apart by a brutal civil war
jagged grief and childless
on the narrow road to a bull fighting studio
where overhead beams and white-washed dreams
provided sanctuary near the French Riviera
on a tall bed
onto which i jumped
to find my hand holding the strongest one of hers!
at 85 i will feel
more fully alive
than i ever did at four:
we will lounge on the warm sandy shore
the dove of peace flying like a soft balloon
overhead
without wearing hat pins
we'll laugh at the sight and our grins
will spread like female legs often do
when welcoming a favorite lover.

everybody must get stoned, again

inside the nude museum
black glasses and thicker lens
mixed with paint and Bic pens
large abstract openings throughout the night
words illuminated by gallery light
clinging boys
plastic toys
the rough trade on a sharp blade
cut thick and thin in several ways
dramatic artists staging plays
popping women in pink shirts
tight pants blond brunette bouncing flirts
sixty lines of unexplained white dope
solitary chairs hanging from an urban rope
elaborate billboards of shock and awe
drawings of cocks and cunts and Andy Warhol
looking through the hotel picture window
New Yorker dust and crystal blow
trapped fish in a London bar
hip elegance dinosaur tar
a great winged Egyptian moaned
everybody must get stoned!!!

bright green door

saw you on a talk show
guess you didn't know where else to go
hiding behind a bright green door
don't come knocking around here no more
i found your walking shoe
and didn't know what exactly i should do
there were scuff marks on my bedroom floor
don't come knocking around here no more
whenever your name is mentioned
i hear the sounds of a fight
whenever the sun is shining
i dream of a long night
and i remember a famous song
it kept tagging along
everyday i would sing the word
the one i often heard
when you were nearby
now all i do is cry
and i remember a famous scene
you and i danced in a most wonderful dream
and there we stayed
we probably should have sat down and prayed
there was nothing more to do
i found your walking shoe
there were scuff marks on my bedroom floor
don't come knocking around here no more.

no gold was in the rainbow pot

leave it to the blind dog
still walking in a cat-like fog
city sidewalk and big brown spot
surrounding lies and an empty parking lot
but no gold was in the rainbow pot
damn blown trash and a Memorial to Mr. Lincoln
when the Raven said "Not today"
what more could he honestly say?
nearby a cell phone rang
yellow tweety bird swallowed and sang
the cartoon cat with his fine top hat
wearing no excess body fat
angry at cage walls and metal bars
rush hour traffic cars
the mice kept eating crumbs and cheese
President Jefferson begging "Please"
when asked by close friend Sally
if he wanted extra Virgin toast and tea
but she kept yearning to be free
a sudden knocking on their door
the dogs all barked
outside an ominous black car parked
inside the Rumford fireplace burning hot
city sidewalk and big brown spot
surrounding lies and an empty parking lot
but no gold was in the rainbow pot.

catching my eye

hey, drummer, give me a clue:
a pretty symbol or a wooden stick?
and if you can't go that far
would you nurse me if i got dreadfully sick?
if i saw spiders crawling on the floor?
big black beauties crawling on a city street
asking for something Korean to eat
for both rich and the pitifully poor?
say, drummer, there's a sun bleeding in the sky;
it's underneath an old moon molesting the tide.
a glamorous woman is hitchhiking a ride!
she held my hand while catching my eye.
hey, drummer, keep keeping the beat,
tapping your feet.
watch this story unfold:
it's been a long time a'coming;
it's time the truth be told.

a very small bed

and a woman said i was
her honey
at first i thought she said
my money
she was a dancer in the big city ballet
until an injury
i worked backstage and could
get into performances for
free
but was paid too little after all
was said and done
she shortened it to Hon
but it didn't matter
she kept getting fatter
as i kept getting older
i said i read my last book last night
before lights out
she asked me what that was all about
and i felt my age
when i tried to turn a page
but turned my back, instead.
we were in a very small bed
she had a very large ego
on the soft pillow
and i should know
it kept pushing me to the floor
where a cat and a dog slept
they both wept
when i joined them there,
yes, sometimes it doesn't seem fair.

Jimi sang

took my woman by the hand
listened to an English band
the Hendrix Experience
i asked and she said
stay in bed
sip herbal tea
she played with me
i smoked a little
played with my fiddle
heard Voodoo Child
got unruly and wild
felt a wet kiss on my belly
ate dry peanut butter and jelly
sandwiches all night long.
i know the drummer ended the song
with a long harangue
i know Jimi sang
i think he moaned
but i was simply too stoned
to tap my foot
i took a tiny puff and put
a piece of candy on my tongue
heard the colors being sung
saw a yellow banana fly
i didn't wonder why
it's what bananas sometimes do
my hand became a shoe
and i walked on water.
wouldn't you, too?

when your eyes grow dark

when your eyes grow dark
after a stroll in Central Park
flip your mental switch to rock
what more can i say?
it's time for a personal holiday!
so whip the backseat stranger
hiding behind your
avant garde mask,
being brutal with each spoken word
make every step become a stooge
jumping over engraved tombstones
going from beautiful person
to beautiful person
carrying a superior air
escaping boredom
like a twice-married virgin groom
dressed in classic furs
pissing behind closed doors marked clearly His and Hers
spitting needles and spitting blood
spinning your winter tires in summer mud
going nowhere fast...
watch the cars speeding past
their blinking neon lights double parked
on 39th street where fancy girls are plainly marked
one femme fatale wore straight blue jeans,
a pretty tissue pushed up her nose,
she punched her ticket to watch the famous sex shows
filled her pockets with petty change
found on the sidewalk between her cracks
where bulldogs once chased a hairy kitty.
a public toilet sink
gave her a wink;
she flushed her face;
the man with a baggie on his head
gave her a kiss;
at midnight
she dropped to her knees;
a small wallet,
several keys,
and a puff of smoke
awoke the neighbors before
a yellow cab drove her out of town.

to proud to beg

i was
pushing a dead weight
and lifting The Bell Jar high over my head
my sheets felt counterbalanced and
unmade on top of my bed
i painted my lips red
a pillow fluffed inside my studio
i listened to the radio talking about a Texas rodeo
a breeze arrived from the deep south
i took a friendly woman
and i kissed her on the mouth
she had traveled from the country
a hundred million miles or more away
and she asked me if i loved her
and i knew exactly what to say
and every time that i indulged her
she asked for a lengthy rest
she kept losing her interest
but i continued to give it my best
then my arm chair suffered a breakdown
it could no longer sit still
i watched her carry it away
over the crest of the nearest hill
and that was the last time that i saw her
i kept searching for some advice
i wondered "Should I have followed?"
but i couldn't go there more than twice.
i soon found myself at a gravesite
saw my arm chair discarded without a leg
but the caretaker wanted a small fortune
and i was too proud to beg!

sugar plum fairy

sugar plum fairy
inking over a tattooed chest
street-wise and hairy
wearing a Halloween vest
baby carries the ultimate hurt
underneath a big bright banana-colored shirt
going down on his own self-made path
one Saturday night i watched him take his first and only bath
along with Sue
who seemed to know exactly what she wanted to do
waiting for the Man
inside a wide-mouthed trashed out garbage can
they felt the rush of new blood
a feeling like a wind-swept Noah's flood
and speeding taxis kept speeding past
they thought the insane kisses would always last
next thing i saw was the very next night
i woke inside a flash of brilliant white light
my eyes were in a nearby emotional state
i must have known it was getting late
and the road would be hard and tall
along with Paul
who seemed to know exactly when this house of cards would fall:
the police cars drove up at four
a rock and roll animal was found dead on the floor
at five the party was still hot
everyone who came was looking for exactly what they got
in velvet undershirt the poet watched TV
the dancer tip toed from sea to shining sea
the guitar player made a mad dash
the banker swallowed his whole load of petty cash
and sugar plum fairy
inking over a tattooed chest
read the last page of the book he liked the best.

inside a box

i could be a shut in
adrift inside a box
you could reach for me
we'd become a paradox
crossing the nearest crowded street
we'd finally be allowed to meet
the storm clouds would disappear
i'd dry your final tear
would we have anything more to fear?
well, i don't think so
looking out my future window
i'd see busy needles and a single bed
images of worker bees; everyone wearing red
intersection signals, sisters, brothers
designer heroin pause and shudder
like maple syrup dripping in the air
sweet body odor and sweet despair
crowd sourcing on a Manhattan bus
watching in amusement all the fuss
and early Friday we drove into overtime
cheap champagne, cigarettes, more red blood wine
a white light to blind my soul
naked bathers urging me to come and go
i found you sitting on the corner of Fifth and Third
the strangest sight i ever heard
a French girl she couldn't have been five foot two
a playwright sipping from his artistic shoe
no religious signs; no eulogy
he stood up and started chasing me
i could be a shut in
adrift inside a box
you could reach for me
we'd become a paradox
crossing the nearest crowded street
we'd finally be allowed to meet
the storm clouds would disappear
i'd dry your final tear
would we have anything more to fear?

it swings open

from the upper deck
the view was lovely
there were tangerines everywhere
and apple pie with cinnamon and other spices
even
orchids scented the air
with their cascades of colorful flair
when
a guitar player walked nearby
i could almost hear her cry
she shuffled past with curious sharps and impending flats
amid some applause and a scattering of tipped hats
her fine black hair and scared eyes
with a song about men and their eventual lies:
hmmm, what would they do for ultimate pleasure?
eye the flight of a bird or dig for buried treasure?
well, if that was all she had
it was all very sad
like the shadow of a pink elephant
and you want it to fly but it can't
her hand manipulated the many strings
my hand grabbed the doorknob and it swings
open.

opening a new door

in the studio
your chic outfit hung on my wall
a week or two later
it remained suspended
unwrapped and naked,
upended
like a secret love
in chains
and it remains
underneath a black light
pinned
inside the dead of night
and in the daytime, too,
a foot without a shoe
walking across my back
inside a tight caress
a braided rope like a vagina-like harness
unleashing a sexuality
for hours and years
of sweat-stained sheets and fears
and the masterpiece
walking around the bedroom
where no window held a view
it wasn't only i
it was you, too
agape with your wide mouth up in smoke
and your fingers up my ass
from where i can see your silhouette
trying to get everything you can get
and a larger one of me
holding the great key
opening a new door
lovemaking on a frozen floor
with an eye at the end of my penis.

what they had once remembered

into the Welcome Hotel
the guests emptied one by one
in a stately procession of inebriation
and exhaustion,
an occupation which did not interfere
with their daily jobs
of acting like bitches
about everything modern.
of course they colored themselves in a
favorable light:
often very witty and gay,
they laughed round-the-clock
and smeared candle grease on the floor
with bits of ribbon and torn cloth.
exhaling the cigarette smoke of
Western civilization,
the party-goers noisily turned out the remaining lights
and began to fight among themselves,
punching at reasonable suggestions for rest
while struggling with their balance.
suddenly, a young girl with beautiful blue eyes above her Greek nose
held her big breasts up to the high ceiling
and physically pushed them out of sight
into the waiting mouth of a hungry lover,
and her ass disappeared into the floor
before the astonished crowd
could understand what they had once remembered.
the sight was intimidating and terrible
and it lasted but mere seconds,
and in that brief time an entire world disappeared
along with everyone who kept acting
excited and yet were completely unfulfilled.