Lords Of Hell

Pens of rage rippin' down the college ruled highways clear into the drunken night demanding satisfaction. No one is safe in the notebook towns reduced to page after page of desolate waste left in the wake of writers with fire in their guts and hearts hardened from the kiss of Hell.I for one, would give your children everything I have while I'm knifing you for your dirty socks. When you hear the roar of the vocal chord V-twin engines, you'd better

SIT DOWN

ZIP IT

AND PAY UP!!

Treasure Hunt

I've got a room in Bangkok that's so 007 that there's probably a cobra waiting in the closet, and when I look in the mirror that takes up the whole wall I see, in nice, brown eyes, a nineteen-year-old Okie boy who just joined the Navy in search of worth in these places. I found worth the other day watching children play in the killing fields. I thought, once, that worth was in the crotches of a dozen whores but the only worth was mine lessened. Revisiting these far away, humid places among ancient temples guarded by the likes of Naga and a truck-load of headless Budhas has given me clues to where the gold is only to have them stolen by the memory of a man's arm shot off in Panama. I have one more place to check: I'll bet there's a smile on the face of a homeless man as he sleeps on the green grass of Washington Square.

A Fragment

Her face had been cracked from the backside of a flat shovel whirled at her by the one man who was suposed to care the most. When I talked to her she had on a flannel shirt that didn't hide her perfect hips well. She thought it was cool that I spent my nights in the woods by the house I grew up in. I told her how I listened to unseen creatures making sounds in the Autumn night leaves. I told her about the feeling in my gut from being alone in the cold dark of November. She had a look on that beautiful broken face that told me she could relate. Her bus left with her on it before I could get her name but that is the way of the bus. Looks like I gave up more than I thought to be free.