a Bohemian in Suburbia

a Bohemian in Suburbia

written during many long nites/mornings in 1992-

93.storyline added in 1996. published to the internet in

1999.

The first glints of the rising sun streamed thru the library 

windows.He heard the morning sounds of birds chirping 

as they awoke.As he popped open another can of beer,he

wondered what they might be saying to each other.He 

recalled other mornings,as the sun rose over the 

deck,when she had popped open new beers and 

wondered what the birds may be saying to each other,but

she wasn't here now,and he had spent another long nite 

pounding out poetry and other wild ramblings on the 

computer keys. He originally had started to write the 

story of his life,but as time and long nites wore on,they 

had turned into more of a continuous series of late nite 

musings.He thought of turning the whole thing into a 

book.He already had the title:"a Bohemian in 

Suburbia".He thought that it fit him well.He liked the 

sound of it on the nite that he had written these words...

'tonite a thought entered my mind. i cannot shake it. i 

wrote it down...a bohemian in suburbia...it sounds so 

intense! like a book title, or a poem. it sounds as tho it 

has already been used and i just recall hearing it from 

somewhere(Dylan,maybe?). i came home from work. i 

showered and had all good intentions of sitting down to 

some beers and a movie (i did-Schlitz lite;Ford Fairlane-

both entertained me). however, prior to that i donned my 

BLACK beret, my long, BLACK dress coat, grey military 

style pants, and, of course, a standard BLACK pocket 

'Tee', and suddenly, these words came to my mind-A 

BOHEMIAN IN SUBURBIA. that is ,after all, what i am. the lifestyle that i lead is definetly more bohemian than 

suburban,but suburban is where i live. what a COOL 

word, when you think of it,-SUBurban, sorta counter-

culture,actually. this town is definetly not urban, but 

where i live is actually SUBURBAN, away from the center 

of town, but not on it's own. a neighborhood, each of us 

seperate, yet somehow united in our own way and i am 

the Bohemian in this Suburb. i'm sure there are others 

who feel just this way. and now, a poem...

Alone.it's nite

the time is rite

alone i sit

i think

i ramble,i wander

i walk the alleys,secure the box that brings only death.

but gradual death.it is not felt

till cough and stench alone reveal the awful truth

i live ,alone. a wanderer,a midnite spirit who walks the 

alleys of this town

i drink. i feel the spirits come upon me and i wish,but...

wishes are mere dreams and i am but a gypsy who has 

sprouted roots,these roots are in Suburbia,a town that in i

dwell. But, do I live here or just abide and take up time 

and space?do I but live among the suburbanites and still 

remain a soul whose sprit cannot quite equate his being 

with those who live within a sphere which circles only 

closely to a space which in I dwell?

I dwell in tides and moon spaces-eternal,elemental 

phases.I am,after all,the man who time has called upon 

to deliver lines such as these to those who must live in 

equalibrium and cannot consider things that are not as 

they are told. I come to answer rhymes of old,the 

Cosmos,the Zodiac...pagan thoughts and things that man

has pondered over years.a Stonehenge,Zion,Godman,I-to quote universal thoughts and try to end man's constant 

quest for knowledge.Knowledge is but a curse and curses

are but a means to an end.the end but a beginning and I 

am but a catalyst for these things.If you do not know the 

questions,then how can you know the answers?So is this 

the Bohemian? this man who in a godlike state dwells? 

this soul who feels his life is so far from those with whom 

he resides?is this the man,or ghost,or spirit?'

At times he considered himself mad as he rambled on like

this,at all hours of the morning,smoking cigarettes and 

drinking beer and thinking of the gypsy lady from his 

past.His thoughts kept going back to her...late nites on 

the deck that they had spent so many of.He would see 

her standing at the factory door,waiting for him to get off 

of work,like she used to do.He couldn't help himself.She 

was like no woman he had ever known.She was a 

gypsy,that's why she wasn't here now.She was a witchy 

woman,an Earth mother,a child of the moon.She was 

beautiful and sexy.She had eyes that shone like no others

and a walk that he could describe only as a flow.But she 

was gone now and he was alone ,except for his two 

young daughters,who were asleep upstairs and soon 

would be rising and getting ready for school.He took 

another sip of beer and thought that he had better lay off 

of it now,because he had to get back into his daily 

routine.He was,after all,a suburbanite.He had a 

house,and a job to pay for it,and the girls would need a 

ride to school.He lit another cigarette."I smoke too 

much",he thought.He drank too much,too and he knew 

that it was starting to affect him adversely.He had written

about it in his ramblings.Where was that ,now?He 

searched one disc after another until he found it.He took 

a long drag on his smoke and another gulp of beer, as he read:'this past week has shown that this overtime schedule is 

catching up to me.late for work two days becuz I 

overslept! my points are low.today I got a verbal 

warning.I'm afraid that I mite be losing a grip on this 

alcohol thing.I mean,I've known that I am an alcoholic 

ever since my last acid trip back in '77.remember how I 

declared it to most of Arentville early that morning? but I 

always felt that I understood and had a grip and didn't let

it fuck with my existence.lately it has been.I keep 

drinking all morning long and then pass out and don't get

up on time.I've got to correct this.I know I can.I know I 

can.just gotta tell myself that.'

He didn't want to dwell on those thoughts, however, 

becuz he had to get himself together for the day.He 

finished the beer and reread what he had written the nite 

before...

'that's rite!fivefuckin'thirty A.M.I've been workin' twelve 

hour days this week becuz the nite guy is off.I get home 

around three-thirty and can't sleep,just like regular 

hours.so I stay up,drinkin' beer and smokin' deathsticks 

and doin' stuff that needs to be done or just stuff I wanta 

do.I should be doin' dishes rite now.both sinks are 

full.that's not unusual.Christ!last mornin' I came home 

and stayed up until I got the girls off to school and then 

slept some till work time.looks like the same scenario is 

happenin' today.sorta like bein' a third shift dude,I quess.I

wonder about me sometimes.why do I live the way that I 

do?Damn,I've gotta do groceries and all that and I'm 

gonna be buzzed and spaced and still go do twelve hours 

tonite and twelve more on Saturday and eight on Sunday 

and then start another week.Man! Jack is getting to be a 

dull boy!I need to get out and about but I just don't see 

that happenin' with the work schedule that is currently in 

effect."when you have the time,you don't have the money and when you have the money,you don't have the

time.""dope will get you thru times of no money better 

than money will get you thru times of no dope."OH,I don't

do dope anymore.oh well,it's still a cool saying.I quess I 

could insert BEER instead of dope.I sure do go thru enuf 

of that!"I drink alone."it gets boring? lonely?

something,sometimes,but,"the beer life ain't no good 

life,but it's my life."I just made that up.thanks 

Waymore.speaking of Waylon,I've been wanting to write 

down some lyrics to a song that I used to have on eight-

track by Jessi Colter (I gave all my eight-tracks to Wes 

this year,remember?)was it written about me? I've always

thought so.it goes like this...

BLACK-HAIRED BOY

He's a black-haired boy of some CONFUSION

He makes no excuses for the things he uses

Gentle and Wild,he's a child of the mountains

His words are for sayin'

His days are for countin'

He's lookin' for a home that he's afraid he'll find...

He's a devil in the mornin';a saviour at nite

tommorrow's a case of WHATEVER'S RITE

Lonesome and high on the things that he feels

The cards that he plays are the cards that he deals

he's one of the chances yr entitled to take

one of the hearts it's too late to break

I've seen him beside him and I never knew why

I've seen him fall down to laugh, stand up to cry

that's me,even tho I wasn't born in the 

mountains.remember that time I climbed to the top of 

Pole Steeple and got off?I was a child of the mountains 

then.that's exactly what I needed that day.that was a good day.my kids and Magic,and she understood.I miss 

Magic the way it was then.I wish that I could have a little 

of that now, but one cannot live in the past.I'm done for 

tonite,I'll see ya later.'

Yes,that definitely was the way his life was going,he 

thought and then moved upstairs to begin his day.The 

kids got to school,he made it thru another night of work 

and sat down at his keyboard and feeling extremely 

inspired,wrote the following...

fuck this shit,man.I am a poet and I'm wasting my time 

on useless thoughts."it's time to seek some therapy,time 

to write a poem."thank you Jimmy.do I feel inspired for 

poetry?do I need a reason?maybe it's the season.last 

quarter.we all know by now that it's the elements that 

rule our lives.so,perhaps,a moon poem...Restless,feeling 

so alone,feelings thrill me to the bone,mind is 

traveling,always does,quess becuz I got a buzz.so what is

this thing we call getting high on alcohol?a way of life I 

know some say,way to cope from day to day,one day at a

time,that's how I do,and now it's time for another 

brew.GOOD ONE,DUDE.catch ya later.

He was not a religious man,although he was raised with 

it.A good Lutheran boy,he had gone off with his mother to

chursh every Sunday and believed intensely in the 

Father,Son and Holy Ghost until his late teens,when he 

began to question his parents' beliefs.Those were times 

of quite alot of questioning of the way things 

were.Society was going through many changes and many

new thoughts and beliefs were being thrown at 

him..."Imagine no religion,no hell below us,above us only 

sky."He began to question the existence of a creator.Did 

not all religions have a basic belief in some sort of 

supreme being?Perhaps man had created God in his own 

image,not vice-versa.Was religion merely a way of easing the psyche,much like the drugs that were flowing freely 

and that he had begun to experiment with?Perhaps 

because of the drugs and his eventual entrance into a 

wild and free lifestyle,he gave up his ponderings on 

religion and eventually gave up religion altogether.He 

spent his early twenties doping and drinking and stealing 

and living the life of a degenerate.He married during 

those days ,bought the house in the suburbs and tried to 

settle down and live the American Dream.The marriage 

ended in divorce and he was left with the house, the kids 

and his bohemian ideals.He began to read alot more then

and developed an interest in religion once again.He tried 

to put together his ideas on the subject.He flirted with 

Protestantism once again and even let a zealous 

missionary talk him into joining the Church of Jesus Christ

of Latter-Day Saints.He quickly realized that this religion 

was too cult-like and resorted once again to his books and

his musings.Late one night,he put down these words on 

the subject...

I haven't talked about my beliefs for sometime.I will now.I

have gone back to being the agnostic.Science seems to 

make more sense than religion.I feel that man has 

created his dieties.I know that somewhere I have said 

this before.I remember discussing this with Magic when 

she was explaining her beliefs.but,Man felt Evil in him,so 

he decided there must be some outside force causing 

these feelings,so he created a Satan.all thru the 

ages,man has felt that there must be some other force 

than themselves governing thier lives,so they created 

gods.

There have been many culyures,many societies,an da all 

of them have had tier own set of dieties.every one has 

had the good guy and the bad guy.some have had the 

rulers of the kingdom of the dead and these were not evil.many have had the son oif the ruling god die and 

come back to life in order to save the general public. the 

Bible tells the story of a Jewish family and thier 

geneology and the stories that that family passed down 

from generation to generation.Science has proven some 

of the things that they claimed,such as the flood,but 

these things took place in the world as they knew it.I feel 

that there were other groups of people, living in other 

areas,that were not affected by the things that befell the 

people who were living in the Middle East. these people 

did not leave an account of thier lives as the family of 

Abraham did.I am sure that there is much more to the 

history of the world past than we have been given 

knowledge of,simply becuz these people did not keep 

account of tier history the way the ancestors of Jesus of 

Nazareth did.these days i am not into those biblical 

things.the most sold book in the world.I think that it is a 

history of the Jewish people.I am sure that Jesus was a 

real person,but as far as for his divinity,I don't know.Man 

has always,all thru history,come up with Dieties in order 

to ensure that there is a Force stronger than himself.an 

entity that is in control of things,someone who is 

controlling our destinies.however,are we not just 

dreaming of a better life than the one that we live?Man 

has within him the elements of good and evil.these 

desires,these strong urges,and we feel that there must 

be something that is causing this,so we create a diety in 

order to explain it.in the Christian belief these elements 

are called God and Satan.there are countless stories to 

explain the relationship which these entities play within 

our lives,but these stories are so much like every other 

society that has gone before us.this Jesus thing has 

lasted for almost 2000 years now,longer than most other 

diety beliefs,but the elements of the story are all thesame as what people have believed before his coming.a 

Father figure,a son who dies and then conquers death.we

all hope that we can conquer Death,but death is 

inevitable and basically,that is why there is religion.the 

hope that man can conquer Death.all the religious beliefs

that are recorded all thru history have to do with the 

conquering of death.

Nature is actually the ruler of our lives.ancient peoples 

worshipped Nature and,in fact,that is the life force that 

we all feel.call me pagan,but that is wherein Truth lies.the

Elements control our lives and we merely give them 

substanence in our own likeness.early man felt the 

influence of the moon,the sun,the planets,the wind,the 

rain and they gave these things embodiment."these 

things must be controlled by something like me" they 

thought,so they created dieties to control these 

things,but,in fact,these things control us.why do we refer 

to 'Mother Nature ' and' Father Time'?are these not 

embodiments of the rulers of our destinies that we refer 

to as our gods?we feel that there must be entities like us 

to control our existence.in actuality it is the very 

elements that control us.astrologers can probably explain

this better than I,but,But-there is the 

word,but...astrologers called the birth of Jesus of 

Nazareth.he definitly was a man who had a message for 

mankind-Peace and Love-treat yr brother as yrself,but as 

for the resurrection,that same scenario was played 

before in ancient writings.check it out,all thru history man

has been believing in the death and resurrection of some 

form of diety. this represents the death that Autumn and 

Winter brings and the resurrection that Spring brings.all 

religions have been based on this simple fact.and so,the 

bottom line is,Man is Energy,Life is Energy,religion calls 

this energy-Soul.Death causes the release of this energy.where it gos,I cannot say as I have not 

experienced it as of yet.Ghosts and Angels are some 

answers that have been presented by others before me.I 

am sure that there are unwordly entities that I will not 

fully understand,but as for God and Satan, I feel that 

these are merely creations of Man ,to explain the things 

that are going on inside of his own pyshe.if i am wrong,i 

will go to Hell.if I am rite...hell is merely a creation of the 

Judeo-Christian belief.

I need to do more reading.I haven't finished Ritual to 

Romance yet.I've been grabbing the encyclopedias 

lately.now there is some interesting reading!I can't 

believe how those Crusades came about!I mean,talk 

about yr religious fanaticism! and I thought Pat Robertson

was obsessed.Hey,I enjoy listening to what he has to 

say,but at least those knights weren't doing it for the 

bucks,or were they?I'm sure that alotta spoilage came 

back from the "Holy Land.but to spend years of waging 

war on the Mideast because they didn't believe that Jesus

Christ was the one ,true way,wait a minute,aren't 

Christians still waging war in the Mideast today? and 

doesn't it have something to do withmoney?I mean,oil.I 

mean.what do i mean?what do i feel?what do i believe?I 

sure would like to know more about the relationship that 

Muslim and Judea-Christian have had down thru the 

ages.this,to me,is a very interesting topic.I have read fact

and fiction that deals with the subject,Tom Robbins 

comes to mind,and I am still left wondering where all 

these notions fit together. and then there is Paganism 

and how it fit in with the Roman's beliefs,both before and 

after Christianity became the belief of the Romans.we are

talking about major cultures here.cultures who believed 

one thing and then embraced another,changed it to thier 

way of doing things and then passed it down thru theages,only to be destroyed by people who had very 

different concepts.

I was raised in a very rural,Protestant-Catholic area.I 

have very little idea of how things transpired in the days 

when people worshipped many gods and then came to 

worship only one.what a time those must have been!

joseph Smith sat and wondered about the differences in 

Protestant beliefs,but did he wonder about the beliefs of 

people long before the sons of Abraham walked this 

Earth? I do.

I am going to bed now.catchya later.

But as he lay in bed,he could not sleep.His thoughts kept 

going back to the gypsy lady,the one he called 'Magic'.He

had met her a year or two ago and they had clicked 

instantly.It was like she was the woman he was destined 

to meet.They had run together,drank together,made 

fabulous love together,talked for hours and hours on 

end,even lived together for a short time,but they were 

not ready to express a total committment to each other 

and they had parted.And his thoughts kept going back to 

her.In his restless mind,he recalled thier first meeting...

one nite,I walked into the bar alone,saw this chick 

dancing by herself,just sorta getting into the music-I 

said,"I'm gonna go dance with her." I did.that is when 

Magic entered my life.

Still thinking of her,he staggered back to his computer 

and composed this poem...

it was a long summer

it was a good time

.I didn't have time to write

I didn't find words to rhyme

but Autumn is on us now

and I hope that somewhere,somehow

I can find the words to expressmy meloncholy and distress

the feelings that escape my mind

I know will come back in time

how can I say thoughts I don't know

as yhe winter comes on us 

with thoughts of snow

and thoughts of Love

and thoughts of things that were once and shall be again

there was a beginning

I hope for no end.

so there is my November poem.perhaps some Magic will 

come as the seasons and the Moon change.I hope so.I 

need that.

And he drifted off to sleep.

For the next few months,he ran on the same 

routine.Twelve hour days in the factory,late nights in the 

library,typing on his computer.The things he wrote were 

full of distress,as was the Bohemian...

I've got to be at work at seven this morning.I hate these 

hours,but I can't complain about the overtime and the 

way my company is doing in these troubled economic 

times.I'm listening to old Dylan and just read some of 

"Songs of the Doomed",by Dr.Thompson,and I feel like I 

should write something.

I feel like two people,a schizophrenic I am,I suppose.to 

the general public,I am this good father and dude who 

keeps it all together.to me,I am this confused poet,this 

out-of-control individual,who may just lose it at any 

time.it pisses me off that I lost those poems I composed 

and tried to save last year.they were on the disc that I 

fucked-up along with my reflections on what my children 

would say about me when they are grown,but I 

digress.that is all lost.today is today and what I say now 

is where I am at."ohh,wee,ride me high",I love that song.it is a shame that Dylan feels he can sing so fucked-

up and still keep his audience these days,but ,you know,I 

still look for every TV appearance and buy his CDs.he is 

still a poet laureate for all generations.I don't know what 

exactly that means,but I sure like to listen to the man.CD 

is over.I am going to put in "Desire",one of his best.it 

brings back old memories.the Seventies-boy,I miss them!I

miss the days of desperados...waiting.we once were 

deperados-wild young men with brains afire and things 

we did were relentless,impractical,unknown,and 

unquestioned-we just did them.

and now,I sit and wonder whatever happened to those 

young men.where are they now?Butch is dead.Bear has 

not been heard from.Kennie and Lester-in Lousiana still?

Kuhnie,Terry and I are still around,working and 

maintaining ,but not hanging together.Tom took 

off,Steves still cool but troubled.Curt,still cool,still 

working,I should see him more.Doug?like always.Terry 

Lee,I wish I knew.I can but imagine.Spahrski?-last I 

heard,wasted beyond belief.what about Grinder?Lep?i 

know where Joe is,I should stop in to see him.remember 

that meeting with Barbwire and Leftie this summer?Phil!I 

forgot Phil!I know where he is,I must contact him.Oh,the 

days and times we had!

the late of nite brings on memories

and wonderings

amI coming

or going

i must be going

becuz I don't see anything that says

I am coming

I wish I was

I wish I knew

I don't knowand now

I end

can I say what was?

do I know what is?

do I know what was?

where is the answer>

where is the past?

where is the answer

when auld lang syne gets lost

and thoughts and things in life get tossed

and you cannot remember when

and you wish you could find a friend

and friends are gone

and people strange?

it makes you wish you could rearrange

the way things are and how they turned out.

unfortunatly,that's not what life is about.

O.K.,here we go again.God,it's gonna be a ruff day at 

work,but ,you know,I actually enjoy what I do.I am,after 

all,a'working class hero',just like I wanted to be back in 

1972.some hero! but I quess that I am.I maintain a home 

for my two children,I pay my billson time,and,my 

attendance problem aside,I do my job rather well.

of course,I wish that I could be someone or something 

different,don' we all?I wish sometimes that I had gone on 

to college and become some kind of journalist.even then I

would have to put up with the same kinda bullshit from 

the bosses.from what I understand,that is the way it is no

matter what type of job one has.there are those who 

say"this is the wayit should be",and those who have to do

it that way.that goes so much against what I tried to 

develop as my personal feeling and lifestyle ,but-god,I 

say BUT alot,but that is the way life isnothing but alot of 

BUTS-and BUTTHEADS and fuck,nevermind.I hate the way that life is.Dylan is singing"One More Cup of Coffee" 

and that reminds me that I have not made any coffee to 

come on in the morn(it IS morn),so I must go do that.Oh 

Ho!there was at least one cup waiting to be warmed 

up,so I'll let that rest.now Zimmerman is singing"Oh 

Sister" and I have this strong desire to call my sister,but 

she may not appreciate a call at 2 a.m. and I really 

should get some sleep...S

Whoa!some quite intense thoughts on my previous nite 

of writing.I woke up that morn,sun shining in the windows

and my head lying on the table beside my keyboard,still 

trying to come up with what that last 'S' wa s to say.I 

can't say now what was on my mind then,so I'll try to say 

what's on my mind now.I've settled my weekly bill 

commitment and have turned on MTV. smoking a 

deathstick here in the house,unusual,I take them outside 

most of the time.need to lite some insence.running low 

on that.running low on lots of things these days but still 

surviving-I am,after all,a survivor.if I weren't,I would have

climbed that fence and grabbed those Met-Ed high 

tension lines by now.but I haven't.I'm so proud of me.I 

was in the bathroom awhile ago,touching up my hairdo.a 

month or so ago,I went to the bathroom one nite and got 

rid of most of my long hair.I used my beard trimmers and 

scissors and over about 24 hours ,I had a new hairdo that

my friend,Byron,calls 'very '90's'.very short up top and on

the sides and a very long tail in the back.i have learned 

to braid my tail by myself.i can do everything by 

myself.unfortunately,there are some things that are much

better with another person,but I am,after all,THE 

LONER.oh,yes,I painted my unenvironmentally-sound 

Hornet with a large peace sign with litningbolts on the 

driver's door,a large bloodshot eye on the hood,elemental

symbols on the passenger door and a large yin-yang onthe trunklid.then I painted the bottoms of my feet black 

and walked all over it and finished with several hand 

prints.my last stick of incense,fortunately,not my last can 

of beer,I wish I could get back into that Bohemian in 

Suburbia state-of-mind,but it seems as tho I am just 

recording the recent goings-on,like a journal,this is ,after 

all,a journal.

my oldest daughter turned 11 yesterday.I got her a 

Barbie with floor-length hair(totally hair) and a Troll.it's 

funny that Trolls are popular again.she got her first Troll 

several years ago when I was getting shit from my 

childhood from my parents' house.

there has been so much shit going on these days!I have 

been trying to be more political,like I was a long time 

ago.I never have been as involved as I would like to 

be.just standing on the sidelines,looking in.so i thought I 

would vote in the primaries to get Jerry Brown on the 

ticket,but I found out that since I am non-partisan,I can't 

help decide who gets on the ticket!I am not a party 

person.well,yes I am,but not a political party person.so I 

cannot give a voice on who gets on the party ticket. 

anyway,Rodney King-the cops can now do what the fuck 

they want to-I quess nothing has changed-go ahead,yank

me from my car and beat the shit outta me-you are the 

man so you can do what you wanta.I hate the way things 

are going in the '90's.I was watching C-span the other 

day and all these people were being so radical,so 

outspoken-i hope that this is the way things are 

headed,like people standing up to the military-industrial 

complex like they did in the '60's.even congressmen 

were saying"hey,Bush,this is what we want".

it is 3a.m. and I am beginning to feel as tho the poet in 

me is dead after reading over what I just wrote,so I must 

find a wild strain here,I mean,after all,the Black Crowes are singing on the TV.Oh shit,this Clapton song again-

whatever happened to"get up and get yr man a bottle of 

red wine"?this isn't then-I just killed an ant walking across

my computer table...dead ant...dead ant...dead ant,dead 

ant,dead ant,dead ant.so there is my poetry,condensed 

to simple,stupid jokes.

GOOD NITE

NEXT So,here we are,in the Nineties.we listen to CDs 

instead of eighttracks.we have access to the world via 

cable TV.all of our rockstar heros are either dead or in 

thier fifties.dance music is the music of the day.or Rap.or 

'heavymetal'.young turks carry guns .people live on the 

streets becuz they have no other alternative,not becuz 

they want to.having sex can mean Death.these are 

desperate times.I think that that has been said before,but

now I am older and realize it.my teachers used to tell me 

that I would look back on my school days as the best 

days of my life.I still don't. they were wrong.oh,sure,they 

were carefree days,but the years immediately following 

school were the best years of MY life. I had no 

responsibilities then and I was free and I could do as I 

pleased.i decided to take on responsibilities and now I 

have to live with the decisions that I made.I just heard 

Steve Earle say"just becuz yr not paranoid,doesn't mean 

they're not out to get you".ain't it the truth?

I still can't believe that Butch is dead at 37.I've got some 

dead roses to put on his grave.I hope that I get to.I 

always thought that I would do that for Bear,but I don't 

know where he is anymore.I hope that he ain't dead yet.

these sure are different days.

ah,yes,these are different days

hard days,ruff days.days that seem to pass like lead.

why can't I seem to make ends meet?why can't I seem tonot feel beat?I sleep little.I agonize.I don't know how to 

cope.Fortunately,I haven't felt like I have in the past.I 

want to keep going.I want to write poems.I want to write 

the ultimate journalistic piece.

days slip by

nites are long

I exist only for song

songs are short

I am lost

Life goes on

no matter cost

why can't things be like they should?

why isn't everything good?

cuz things are not all blackandwhite

and I exist only at nite.

please take this pain away from me

I want to live beside the sea

I want to live the way I want

I do not want to confront

the things that lurk inside my mind.

why cannot life be so kind?

living means one must exist

inside a veil,a front,a mist

an ever moving veil of doubt.

I wonder were is the way out?

please let me go

please let me be

I cannot take this sanity

I cannot take insanity

I cannot take much more of this

remove the pain

replace with bliss

yeah,rite,bliss and pain exist together in the same plane 

and we just have to learn to live with them and weigh them and find the balance between.and I have to get up 

tommorrow,so now I must go down to sleep.Goodnite>

it was time for another beer.I went to the garage and 

pulled two Colders from the cooler.yesterday was one of 

those days that I bought my beer on the way to work.the 

beer store is on the way,after all,so I put the cooler in the 

trunk and bought the case and some ice and thet were 

cold and ready when quitting time came around.on my 

way up the steps to the deck,I thought,"it's time to write 

something called...

CABANA DAYS"

that summer was a wild and perilous time,indeed.

I was footloose and fancyfree.the last four days of May 

and the entire month of June were work days.thirty-four 

straight days of work.lots of overtime,lots of cash.lots of 

beer,Coors Lite in those days becuz I could afford it.it was

hot and my daughters stayed nites at the sitters so I 

could hit the bars,and hit them I did!I discovered a smoky

little place with a bigscreen TV,that the DJ played metal 

videos on.a lotta AC/DC.I hung out there with Brenie 

some nites and met his friends and kin.in those days ,I 

almost always bought my beer on the way to work.cooler 

in the trunk,beer on ice.I always had beer in the car,yes,I 

was drinking and driving.you see,I called my cooler 'my 

cabana' .it had something to do with my passion for 

Jimmy Buffett music and my desire to live a 

tropical,Carribean lifestyle.(I just killed those two 

Colders,poured into my'Order of the Sleepless Knights' 

mug-going for more-I'll be back.Whoops!that one wasn't 

empty)anyway,that summer,I pretty much stayed real 

drunk,drinking before work,sometimes during work(on 

Sundays,doubletime),definetly after work,one or two on 

the way to the bar,always some on the way from there.a wild,drunken summer,for sure.I am a lucky boy that no 

less misfortune befell me than actually did,but I must run 

to the cabana now and refresh myself,so the stories of 

mishap and Magic will come later.

POETRY TIME

rains fall

times end

we call

messages send

everything meaningless

nothing makes sense

I call for reson

it has been spent

free me from this void,please

I fall doen ypon my knees

and still,no solice comes

the quiet town around me speaks in so many ways

that daylite people never will

I wish that i knew how to work this computer.I quess I 

do,in a way,but so many things don't work the way that I 

want them to.so,who cares?here's a quarter.

I want to say ,at this time,that I love my daughters.Life 

would not be Life,without them.imagine that!the dude 

who once said that he would never bring babies into this 

world can now,not live without them!

but,I am still so alone and on my own.it scares me to 

think of those little ones growing up and growing away 

from me.we are so close rite now,but they are so close to 

being thier own little selves.

I just hope that we can still maintain our relationships the

way they are now,or maybe better as they get older.I 

dread these teenage years that are coming fast upon 

me.Christ,I know what my teenage years were like, and I 

had a father AND a mother.what are my girls going to be like,with me as thier influence?I can already see it in thier

eyes.I am the guy who chokes thier freedom.Oh,god,I just

want to remain cool and still keep them in control.I hope 

that I can do that and still remain sane.still-still?why does

'still' keep coming up in my repetoire?is it something to 

do with talking to Wes about his Tennessee heritage?

my youth was so much different than the life that my 

girls are living.I have seen things progress at such a 

rate ,and that would have happened even if I hadn't been

a speedfreak.what will I do if I find my girls smoking 

crack,or whatever the drug of fashion is ,when they get of

age?what will I do when I find out that they got 

sloppy,fuckin' drunk at some party?

christ,I suppose that I can at least steer them a little 

better than my tee-totaler parents did me.after all,they 

do have my example to go by.who wants to be like me?

I am definitely trying to fill this space that I left in this 

file.I feel as tho I should go read some Poe.I drink beer 

profusely.I wonder ,sometimes,if it makes my outlook 

somewhat different than it should be.I remember my 

feelings about beer drinking as a younger man,a 

teenager,actually.I felt that beer drinking was for 

rednecks.I was a head.things sure have changed.I can 

hardly even handle a toke session now.

what a wierd scene it was,the last time that I toked!

sitting around with old,balding,conservative-looking 

dudes!

I'm outta here.must go get something to eat.no poetry 

tonite.maybe later,catch ya then.

I'm still despondent.I still think about transformers and 

high voltage electrical shocks.but I'm still together enuf 

to only think and not do.

I feel like creating some poetry,but I just don't feel 

inspired.wierd feeling,wan't to,can't.maybe some tunes will affect me otherwise.been listening to 'Bare 

Trees'.that should have done something for me.just felt 

good.what now?be back.John and yoko-'Milk and 

Honey'.you know,sometimes,I feel like John or wish I had 

been John or,I don't know.he was like,an artist,a poet.he 

should be remembered for the words that he put 

together and that is what I am getting at.I would like to 

be remembered for the words that I put together,and 

maybe I will be,by those who know me.I have been 

told,"you have a way of saying things."that is good.I like 

to put words together and affect people by the things 

that I write.I feel that that is much more important than 

how I make a machine run.altho,I must admit.I enjoy 

making my machines run the way that I do.recently,my 

bosses have said,"good job".what else can a working 

class hero to ask for?

Life seems so complicated

but yet is so simple

I wanta call ya

I wanta ball ya

what more is there?

i'm definitly not inspired.

I'm hungry

I may be back later

how's that for a poem?

it's later

I am tired all the time.I am working all the time.I hardly 

ever see my girls.mornings,take to school,I'm still 

asleep.Nites,I either pick them up or they are here 

,asleep.when I pick them up,they are asleep.I'm missing 

alot of thier lives.I'm not getting out and about.I'm not 

doing shit with them.I'm just workin' and drinkin' and 

maintainin'.

Sometimes,he would make up stories ,just to try and make his life more exciting...

tonite,i got off of work and needed to find some 

excitement in my life.I brought my hacksaw,my 

prybar,and several other tools from my toolbox along 

with me.instead of heading home,I went to Crow 

Keys,where there is an out of the way gun shop,that I 

broke into and commandered two 12 guage 

shotguns,several thousand rounds of ammunition,and all 

kinds of camping gear,which they also had on the 

premises.from there,I headed on up the road to the 

nearest bar.doning a ski mask,I entered the place,with 

my newly acquired shotguns and secured vast quantities 

of booze and all the money from the cash register.I 

continued up the road to Harptown,where I pulled out my

shotguns and proceeded to destroy everything in site.I 

headed west to Chesterville and shot that town up ,as 

well.Hungertown was the next town in my path,and I 

destroyed everthing that I could in that village as I 

passed thru.I broke into the Delphin restaurant and took 

every ounce of foodstuff that I could carry.from there,I 

headed on thru Bigville and on up the pike toward 

Mt.Holt.there ,I headed up the mountain to Hammer 

Rock,where I whittled my new shotguns down to hend-

held weapons,for later use.

His was,indeed,a lonely and desperate life,absent of any 

meaning,becuz she was not in it.

He continued to work long hours all through that 

winter.He hardly ever saw his girls,missing out on the fact

that they were growing up.He continued to drink and 

smoke like there was no tommorrow.He continued to write

wild ramblings and crazy stories all nite,until he would 

collapse into his cold,lonely bed and think agonizing 

thoughts about Magic going and Magic coming again.

He made it through the long,cold winter with quite a few mishaps on the icy roads.He survived these and the 

ressurection of Springtime looked upon a weary,crazed 

Bohemian,still trying to grasp onto his remaining shred of 

sanity.

The first glints of the morning sun shone through the 

library windows.The Bohemian lay with head on 

keyboard,arms sprawled across his work table,like so 

many mornings in the past.but something was 

different.Something was wrong.

His daughters came to get him ,to take them to 

school.The oldest wore his old,leather jacket,that he had 

passed down to her and the youngest wore a long,black 

coat,which he had worn to Sunday School as a child.

They called to him.

He did not answer,for,like his mother before him,his heart

had ceased.

They called again and began to panic.They wailed and 

cried.Then,from behind them,in a soft Texas drawl,they 

heard a voice say"Girls,we have work to do."

They turned and there stood 'Magic'.Her dark hair was 

long and wild.Her eyes shone with a fire.She wore only a 

long,black and silver element coat.She was barefoot.

Together ,they dragged the Bohemian up to his beloved 

deck.They gathered the wood from the old maple tree 

that had been struck by lightening and built a funeral 

pyre.They lay the Bohemian upon the pyre and the gypsy 

lady struck a match.The flames rose fiercely.Magic took 

off her coat and threw her naked body onto that of her 

beloved ,and as the sirens began to sound in the 

distance......THE BOHEMIAN LEFT SUBURBIA......