Personal Publications
My writing career, such as it was, was marked by constant recrimination, acrimony and threats; and these were only the consultations with my editors and publishers. I have written for newspapers and the occasional magazine and legal publications, but never considered myself journalist, which implies (laugh out loud here) some degree of objectivity.
"HALF MAST"
A Conversation With Our Flag
So why are you at half-mast, Old Glory
Who Died?
A young soldier before his time?
Could be her you say?
I guess you're correct;
Even women are in the battle act now, huh?
Battle-ax to battle act.
What? That's not funny, Old Glory?
You're not into jokes today, or irony, Old Glory?
Not today. ;
When you're at half-staff, Old Glory.
But so much is done in your name Old Glory.
Does it ever piss you off to hang there,
Half-way off the flag-pole, Old Glory?
Waiving for a dead kid, who will never wave for himself,
Sorry, herself, again . . .
Never wave to her mom and dad,
Or unborn children!
A child herself, once full of life;
fighting wars that are started by old men,
Waving you all over the country, Old Glory.
Old Men yelling about going to battle for you, Old Glory.
Fat, old, greedy, egotistical politician-crooks, Old Glory.
Waxing eloquent words about patriotism and duty, Old Glory.
Old, greedy, stay-at-home killers, who never fly at half-staff,
Or cry at sunset when you're taken off the casket to be given to some
broken-hearted parent, Old Glory?
Old, soft-shoe sound-byte thieves who use you like a whore,
Old Glory?
Like a goddamn whore.
Like a goddamn rouge-covered, broken-down, old red, white and blue
whore, Old Glory?/p>
Half-mast isn't payment enough, is it Old Glory?
For a dead kid?
Is it Old Glory?
I'm asking you, Old Glory?
Is it ! ! !
-Rex's Bar in Billings, Montana
-April 27, 2003
Reflections on Horace's Ode II, III, to Dellius
Be careful to complain
too much, Dellius,
about your lot.
Fortune will deal
Your cards again.
Play with joy!
One day you will
Turn Aces and Eights
As all who play
Eventually must.
So enjoy the game
Now, while it is on.
It will be over soon enough.
Your chips will be
Cashed in at
The Orcus cashier:
The table closed
To you
The game left
For those
Who, too, one day
Must leave the table;
When their cards are
Turned, and they
Draw to the
End of life
So smile, and be happy
You are not dust
Yet!
Play the game
While you can
With a smile.
Frowns and the
Rigor of death
will stiffen you
Soon enough.
-November 25,2002
Old Men at a Restaurant in Billings Montana
I'll betcha!!!
No Bet!
Wanna Flip Nickels for Coffee? Hell, 5 cents won't buy a cup of coffee, this ain't '32...
FDR ain't president.
In my day a Nickel could get ya a cold bottle of Coke and change.
Now 6 bits won't buy a Coke or even a smoke.
Two bits, four bits, six bits a dollar...
Ya know what?
My grandkids don't know what six bits is.
To them a sawbuck is less than a penny was for me...
When I was their age...
When you was their age, an Indian head penny could still buy somethin', or a buffalo
nickel, or a skinny dime,
Not in my time...
We didn't have nuthin'.
A penny was the same as a sawbuck...
Both had Lincoln on 'em...
Might as well have been God.
I never saw neither, and when I saw a dollar
I gave it to Ma.
Depression, ya know...
Now, my wife and I, we got that five bed room house,
and I'm still given my money to an old woman.
When I die, it'll take 2 gaddamn 16 wheeler trucks to haul all that crap away.
Where is she?
Phoenix, with the grandkids.
Flew down just last week like she' one of the Rockerfellers.
In the old days, when we used to fly outta here,
Well, ya know there are too many mountains to fly over in those old prop places...
So we'd try to get up to 17,000 feet...
Used to scare the bejesus out of me...
And, Honey, can I get some more coffee?
And, that "crippled" girl is still the best damn waitress they got here...
And that's been going on for years
And it's colder than Hanna's Ass
And it's colder than a well diggers ass
And it's colder than a county sheriff's heart
And it is colder than my wife at 80
And laughter
through false teeth
and past old work wrinkles
and smiler's crow feet
And Gaddamn this
and Gaddamn that ... and not profanity ... but an oath for more emphasis
And Table three is all biceps and bellies...
And "How are ya" ... And travelin' cross the country...
And gadam Iracti's
And Gaddamn Bush Junior
And have a good one,
And Gaddamn Oil prices...
And watch the troopers on the intrastate...
And Gaddamn RV
And Gaddamn Artur ITUS...
And Gaddamn the farmosuicidal companies
And double Gaddamn medicareless...
And flip ya on the cheek...
And see ya tomorra
AND I HOPE SO!!!
Calvo e' Bello
Bald is Beautiful
This stupid little ditty is for all those who comment on my male pattern baldness. My dad, my paternal grandfather and all my Uncles were bald. I follow the Italian tradition which says, "Calvo e` Bello". I don't consider it a put down to be reminded of the fact that I don't have head hair.
I am Bald and
I don't care
I ain't got no hair.
I am bald and
That's ok,
I don't care
What you say
Bald is Beautiful accept that fact
It isn't brains I lack
Take your Rogaine and
Throw it away
That's all I got to say
I am bald and I don't care
I ain't got no hair
Wedding Day
This little ditty is for any parent who has ever held a wedding at their casa.
The day dawned
Clear and bright
The Nuptial Bells
Did Ring.
The Mother Wept
The Father Cried.
They had to pay for
The bloody thing.
I am Life
I am, the older Brother in
the parable of the prodigal son.
Misunderstood and vilified
through the centuries for a display of
the most human emotions . . . envy
I am the fatted calf of
the Old Testament.
Worshipped and then prepared
for slaughter and sacrifice.
Innocent of any wrong doing
I am the ragged drug addict,
illiterate to life's joy and meaning
beyond the next fix.
Scorned by those whose dope
is taken on the rocks nightly at their club.
I am Saul of Tarsus,
blinded by my ignorance of
the Aramaic prophet's teachings.
Torturer of James, pious scrivener
to the Corinthians.
I am a woman of Georgia,
traduced by Yankee scavengers,
my soul raped by Sherman's
march to the sea, just as
my countryside was left ravaged.
I am Joseph, the step-father,
poor carpenter, who took her in
pregnant, with her son, without questions.
He who called himself the son of mankind
and then forgot me.
I am the man who killed
the Buddha, who wept as he
plunged the knife into his
soul, and in so doing, caused
his rebirth
I am Elohim, YHWH, Wakantonka, I am
all, and I am nothing.
I am the Word, I am you,
I SIMPLY AM LIFE
without the mirrors and makeup.
-February 21, 1994
I SOGNI DI MATTINA
NON POUI RITOURNARE IL SUO SOGNO
LE SUE MATINE FRESCHE,
LE SUE OESE DOLCE,
I GIORNI NON E SOLO LAVORO,
NON SOLO LA LEGGE,
MA, LA VITA
LA SUE VITA
LA SUE VITA BREVE MA ANCHE BELLA.
VIVERE! VIVERE!
VIVERE CON INNUMEREVOLE PUNTI D'ESCLAMAZIONE!!!!!!
ESALTARE NELLA VITA!
VIVERE LA VITA CON ESAGERAZIONE!
CHERECARE L'ECCELLEZAI
NON SCUSARRE L'UOMO QUI ESCLAME LA SUPIRIOTIA DI TE.
SCAVARE LA SUA ANIMA,
E NELLA FOSSA SE TROVE, MA NON PERMETTERE MAI
NESSUNO A TE DETTARE CHI TU SEI,
O CHI TO SERI
SEI QUI SEI,
ESSERE TU ... NON LUI O NON LORO
SEI MEGLIO D'UNA DA MASSA, DI MULTITUDINE,
SEI IMPORTANTANTE SOLO, E SEMPRE
SI DE` ESSERE TU STESSO, SOLO E SENZA PAURA!
-January 12, 1999