I Need a Drink

She poured me a cup of hot java as I poured through the files that she had brought with her. Somehow she had gotten her hands on expense accounts and meeting notes from several large companies. The coffee cooled as I poured over every detail, letting it seep into my battered brain. After reading through every scrap of paper twice I finally looked up with a sigh.

“This is huge. Where did you get your mitts on this?”

“A girl’s gotta have a few secrets. You know what this means, right?”

I looked down at my cold cup of coffee. “Yeah, I need a drink.” It was time to get some work done.

A Life of Into and Out of

Into and out of is really what it is all about, placing things into, and taking things out of, containers or their special places. Life itself begins when the penis enters the vagina, and consequently a sperm cell enters the female's egg. The fetus is housed in the uterus, until it makes its exit 9 months painfully later. To maintain this life, food must be placed into the mouth, after taking it out of its wrapper or container and involuntary biological mechanisms digest and then push the food out minus the nutrients plus the stink into the toilet and out the ass. You get into bed, you get of bed, and then maybe into the shower. Why is it we are so quick to get into our clothes when done? We want to get out of our skins. Out the door now and into your car where you take a CD out and put another CD in. You pull into your parking spot, and get out of your car and go into work where you go into your office and get into and out of your chair whilst taking pencils from pencil holders and files from file cabinets and coffee from coffee pots. You go home and put more food into your mouth and get out of your clothes and into your pajamas and bed. You fall into sleep and out of reality. Tomorrow you start over, much the same, and the next day too. This until before you know it the shuffling and sorting stops and they put you six feet under into the cold carnivorous earth. This, of course, a no-brainer, your coffin, is your final container.

Pay

When you get out of bed
In the morning or any other time,
You have to pay for it
It is not of choosing, get up
Get out and get something
You're in for the long haul
Someday, you'll have to die
Sometimes, like rain, you'll cry-
When you get out of bed
You have to pay for it

Just-

I will miss you
But I will always-
always with a smile
remember you
(this is with gestures).

Green & Blue

Windswept leaves gently brush
The obliging air as
Supple sea embraces, flowing softly on;
A shoelace above dances over a perched rock
As a camera clicks capturing sunlight
Dripping and soaking, bouncing off
The slight sound of stillness
Offered by losing the reasons why.
The green fawns over the blue

(Elsewhere

A tongue clatters the roof of a mouth as
As a brain fills with blood as an aneurism is bursting
With odd excitement like the rapist that just finished
Leaving a half-live behind heroin might work but
A first love is dissolving, insurance agents talk with
Paramedics on a state of affairs their wives don't know about and so
Some are starving for food or connection, cautiously the latter say,
"I just want you to know me!" while the former barely can gasp.)
And the blue fawns over the green (The ball bounces).

Nosferatu

Nosferatu at the site of what may be encroaching daylight on recent press perfunctory for his remade somber German Expressionist film of the same name. He had an air of disdain for the remake similiar to the notion that he was more 'keen' to the original. He passive-aggressively implied that the temperature of Hollywood bullshit was exceedingly, seemingly and sometimes invariably melting polar ice caps. He went on to say 'off-the-record', but I am not one for records, that he was sorry for being part of a so-called faux bipartisanship and that it was all one conglomerate and their job was to shuffle drama so you can watch it and teeter back and forth between the fake liberal media and the fake neo-con media and wonder which way is which while they make more money and you wonder about football and Anna Nicole. He had a moment of truth, like deer-in-the-headlights, and said something about East Timor and genocide and then he caught himself and focused on catching his orb. It was quite bouncy. The sun was rising and he had to get a little shut-eye from all the ballyhoo. They had ideas of taking over lands with new plans.

Mr. Funbags

I have a surprise for you today
Things are not as they've seemed
I was away and not taking messages
It was secret fun
Embedded deeply, seemingly, in a private
Life, away from the apparent, and
rationalized perfectly, it was dazzled
With spotty sprinkles of denial
I didn't think about it then
And I don't think about it now
I figure everyone has trysts and these same
Secret things
They are rather harmless, depending
Upon your morality or disposition, however, my
Inclination is relative to animal, primordial
Itches and urges and take-offs
It was something I fell into
So I guess you don't know me
And I don't know you either

Familia

Somewhere out there
There is a happy boy
A smile on his face
A gleam in his eye
Everything is right
Everything is good
He bust be loved
Not overly so
Or less than average
But just the right amount
He must have a good family
One that is perfect in every way

Eat A Peach

Ravenous
Famished
Just damn hungry
Its been a day
Or two maybe even three
Since my belly was last filled

The cupboards were full
And even the fridge
But there was nothing to eat
Nothing good at least

Then my eyes laid upon
The biggest
The fattest
The roundest
Peach that I had ever seen

With one bide I was in heaven
Juices running down my chin
From my shit eating grin
By belly became full
I became happy

Death Works Overtime

Late at night
Crusing the streets
Beer in one hand
Wheel in the other
With a smoke spilling ash
I take the corner
A little closer than not
Wheels over the curb
Trashcans lay in waste behind
Death you hear me?
I should over the music
Undone seatbelt dangling along
I don’t care any more
Everything has been taken
Nothing remains
Just a disgrace
Not needed any more
Death you hear me?
You better be working overtime
By the end of tonight
My soul will be ripe
For you to reap
Off this earth

The Shelf

“Working never hurt anyone, but why take a chance,” in black lettering adorned the side of the mug. Brown coffee stains ringed the inside of the cup. Faded yellow, green, and purple stings of beads lay in a heap. Dots of clean wood are reviled in the thick layer of dust when disturbed. Decals on the three beat-up matchbox cars were pealing off and sand clogged the wheels. The cars were loved once. A graduation cap hung from a nail pounded in the side of the shelf. A picture frame laid face down, buried in the dust. Did it simply fall over, or was it set this way for a reason?

Paranoia

What is that? That bump behind my ear. Cancer? Must be cancer. I must have a brain tumor. I’m going to die… I’m going to die… I’m going to die! Not now. It’s to soon. I have to much yet to do. I have to live my life. I need to live A life. I need to enjoy myself. I don’t want to work. I can’t work any more. I need time to live… To do what I always wanted to do. Oh god. I don’t want to die!

To Entertaining Not To Do

The roar of the fog horn followed by the clanging buoy bells were the only sounds in the dark fog laden port. Shay could only see a few feet through the dense soup, but she knew her surroundings. Almost intimately. Crates waiting to be loaded as cargo surrounded her, giant airships hovered above her, waiting/wanting to take flight. And not far in front of her was her prey. She smiled to herself as she drew her dueling saber and navel revolver. Stepping slowly, softly, through the dampness.

Great Detail Description

Small, square, grey… About three inches long and wide, maybe two inches deep. Phillips head screws hold its face place on, barely. One is through the upper right corner and another through the lower left. The opposite corners were empty black eyes that unblinkingly watch me, study me… Two plastic toggles are in the middle of the exposed face. They were probably once white, but now they have been grayed by the sweat and grime of daily use. Three pipes extended from the box, two towards the ceiling and the last towards the floor. Splattering of paint was speckled on the pipes. The boxes face had also been discolored by age and use. The little metal box had seen a harsh long life and probably just as far left to go.

Broken Window

The primary windows were of the double hung style, vinyl clad, double pained with storm windows. There were visible indications of moisture on some of the window frames. The bottom weather stripping adhesive had come loose. It was noted that one of the basement windows was cracked. The windows were functional at the time of inspection. There were no major defects in the window system.