a story
“i dream of women, women in slips and in slip-shod garments, one sitting next to me coyly moving my limp hand from her spot in the soft roll of flesh buy even tho i make no effort one way or the other the hand stays there, other women and even aunts are watching- At one point that awful haughty bitch who was my wife is walking away from me to the toilet, sniffy, saying something nasty, I look at her slim ass- I’m a regular fool in pale houses enslaved to lust for women who hate me, they lay their bartering flesh all over the divans, it’s one fleshspot- insanity all of it, I should foreswear and chew em all out and go hit the clean rail- I wake up glad to find myself saved in the wilderness mountains- For that lumpy roll flesh with the juicy hole I’d sit through eternities of horror in gray rooms illuminated by a gray sun, with cops and alimoners, at the door and the jail beyond?- It’s a bleeding comedy- The Great Wise Sages of pathetic understanding that characterize the the Greater Religion elude me when it comes to harems- Harem-scarem, it’s all in heaven now- bless their all their bleeding hearts- Some lambs are female, some angels have woman-wings, it’s all mothers in the end and forgive me for my sardony- excuse me for my rut.
(Hor hor hor)”
~Jack Kerouac, Desolation Angels
“Japhy got out the tea, Chinese tea, and sprinkled some in a tin pot, and had the fire going meanwhile, a small one to begin with, the sun was still on us, and pretty soon the water was boiling and he poured it out steaming into the tin pot and we had cups of tea with our tin cups. I myself’d gotten the water from the stream, which was cold and pure like snow and the crystal-lidded eyes of heaven. Therefore, the tea was by far the most pure and thirstquenching tea I ever drank in all my life, it made you want to drink more and more, it actually quenched your thirst and of course it swam around hot in your belly.
‘Now you understand the Oriental passion for tea,’ said Japhy. ‘Remember that book I told you about the first sip is joy the second is gladness, the third is serenity, the fourth is madness, the fifth is ecstasy.”
-Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums
Toes tremble in foreign lands
ink seeps deep
into lonely sweating
shaking hands-
unknowable whys, through
muted cries, praying
Divinity, please uplift me
invisible, Kafkaesque nightmares
through fevers and seizures—
mom won’t come home,
orange desert sunsets, phoenix
rising in flames, like crushed
pieces of gravel, an equal
companion with whom to travel
from cacti to mossy greens,
dry heat to snowflakes soaking
daily in rain, to these city streets
i’ve never seen, all i’ve packed
are sacks of pain, existence so
mundane, the whole thing is
a bubble, and i’m feeling it
pop- maybe Lucy’s liquid purple
gumdrops, could make this slippery
slide unwanted ride stop,
begging on the phone, an absurd
exhibition scribbles in frames
my mind bursting, fireworks in
flames, actors playing roles
poking space-time to open
black holes, i wish
they’d be swallowed
from flesh to energy,
maybe then they’d see this true
Reality, Love and Light Like
waves of Tsunami, ancient land
tradition soaking in, Like blood
strangers suspicious, afraid to
grin, go within, and without will
come, actions of others can’t
be undone, its the children i cherish
though i fear for them, remember
Mafaal, as i fall asleep, and get
back up, repetition through dulled
intuition the cosmic condition
swept under dragon rugs, secrets
vanish like little ladybugs, buried,
in a grave i lonelily dug.
Gumption is slipping, dripping
like crimson streamers of
liquid pain, no loss or gain
watch it drip, drip, drip down the
nowhere drain, psychic gasoline I’m
running out quick, my gumption is gone,
going, flowing away, peaceful Center
gone astray, no one knows where
i’m coming from, so i’ve got nothing
to say, time wasted, and i don’t care
bars of a cage or cell, i’m no-
where, peace tears in shreds, that
won’t tear, can’t relate, this
lonely fate, i’m stuck, a bug in
amber stone, frozen eternity
fated forever, to be alone
Genuine, Quality, the others
are blind to me, lightning
strikes them, incinerated, obliterated,
as dust they’ll see, fried
their “reality”, floating specks
rain rinsing ashes, whitewashed
decks, gleaming like water in the
sunlight, push with all my might,
lost adventures stuck in a room
dark shadows fade to shades of
gloom, one day i might, feel free
like chrysanthemum petals
floating in tea, blowing in dust,
like passing faces glowing in lust
take me for something, but they’re
looking at buds, bloom or wrinkle
shiver and writhe, fragrant juices
left burnt and dried, this world has
betrayed me, so i GO DEEP Inside,
am i seeing,
God, or closing eyes to
hide?
Barefoot a walk alone
with Moon, Yue, orange glow
street vendors, peng you, lenders of
tobac-co, i don’t know, where the
fuck to go what to do, when
everyone sucks, drink drink
drink more, Pu Tao or Bai
jiu, disconnected, disaffected
nihilistic, the dark side of
existentialism, i’ve lost my
meaning, Beauty slipped from
me, so i read Her stories,
wishing for songs, But her voice
is so far, Pollution masks, the
glowing stars, Losing Hope
fast- won’t last, nothing will.
Ya Xiang tea
shop,
a great place
for all to stop,
sip, drip, sit for
a while, Luu Cha
slurrp-
ahhh - have some
Oolong, and stay
here all day long.
Love + Energy
whatever you
do do
do
just don’t,
forget me.