Hunting Ground

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Lights shine artfully from towers that stab the night sky. That’s the key. The fill light seeps from lamp-posts and taxis and pedestrian cars. The darkness becomes the subject that’s framed in heroic personification.
Alley-bound prowlers become protagonists in the urban ballet of apathy and compassion. Smoke emits from gutters to languish. Ambition puts root down on street-corners, seeking to sprout adventure.

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The Korean joint in the square vomits superstars into the downtown air. The courthouse leans on Howe, and around happy-go-luckies still desperately preening to the twilight chill.
Everywhere pulses with desperate desire. Everywhere thrusts. Men prowl the street. Women seek the light and warmth. Downtown is darkest jungle.
-BSB

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When death lurks on your morning stroll

baked by the fresh, morning sun
the streets reek of boredom, panic, and piss
decide to practice increased tactility

practice keeping my head from bowing to track my shoes
practice my breathing
practice regulating judgmental tendencies

achieve temporary reprieve
enjoy a brief taste of peace
until I remember that there is horror

horror and death, that floats above us all
ready to set upon us at will and whim
there is danger, and blindness, and strokes, and insanity, and…

and then, I remember women
I remember sex with a woman
feel myself growing lighter, in shade and weight

feel myself getting hard
and suddenly
I’m not thinking about dying, anymore

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This Affair will be the Death of us All

The gracious palm extended by our host
Makes light the anxious air inside the hall
Regretfully he dare not leave his post
Or else to chance abandon he the ball

The streamers tickle tops of drinks in toast
To health and happy tidings one and all
Tonight we dance ’til give we up the ghost
And mark we morning by the rooster’s call

But lo, our gracious host is absent nigh
And slowly dies the music feeding dance
As dim the candle flames about us grow

We see the celebration is a lie
And curse the name of horrid happenstance
That takes us with the dying candle’s glow

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Behold, the Illustrious Lady

The buxom beauty steps upon the scene
Applause erupts like frightened doves in plume
Beside her clings a mouse in gabardine
Who now becomes the envy of the room

O’er table-tops their twinkling fingers glide
As eager social climbers salivate
And though their desp’rate reaching is denied
They may yet gain some chance to elevate

This prissy mob, this empty, paltry game
Inspiring awe that’s tainted with disgust
These shallow proud believing not in shame
Nor any shining diamond turns to dust

The dream persists that someday seas will rise
And wash this gaudy vision from our eyes

BSB

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Eulogy for Woody Lee

Chapter One: The Great Gig in the Sky
December 24th, 2012
London, UK

1.

The greatest rock guitarist this undeserving world ever knew is dead. He died three days ago. Doomsday. The whole world was supposed to end. For Woody Lee, it did.Continue reading “Eulogy for Woody Lee”