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......

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