Charles Bukowski

“Magical Mystery Tour”

I am in this low-slung sports car
painted a deep, rich yellow
driving under an Italian sun.
I have a British accent.
I’m wearing dark shades
an expensive silk shirt.
there’s no dirt under my
fingernails.
the radio plays Vivaldi
and there are two women with
me
one with raven hair
the other a blonde.
they have small breasts and
beautiful legs
and they laugh at everything I
say.

as we drive up a steep road
the blonde squeezes my leg
and nestles closer
while raven hair
leans across and nibbles my
ear.

we stop for lunch at a quaint
rustic inn.
there is more laughter
before lunch
during lunch and after
lunch.

after lunch we will have a
flat tire on the other side of
the mountain
and the blonde will change the
tire
while
raven hair
photographs me
lighting my pipe
leaning against a tree
the perfect background
perfectly at peace
with
sunlight
flowers
clouds
birds
everywhere.

Charles Bukowski

Juicy Quote

“The gracious, eternal God permits the spirit to green and bloom and to bring forth the most marvelous fruit,

surpassing anything a tongue can express and a heart conceive.”

- Johannes Tauler

“STRANGE LIFE” Photo by

Paolensis

Italy © 2011

“I Hope Of (My Simple Dream)” by Stephen John Kalinich

I hope of having enough room

to hang all my clothes up

without having them all hidden

in wooden trunks

and boxes.

I hope of having space

to hang my Art work

and my Paintings.

I hope of not worrying about

where I will live next month.

I hope of not

having to worry

about Medical or Dental insurance.

I hope of having energy for everything.

I hope of finding

an outlet for my work.

I hope of knowing my rightful place

in the Universe.

I hope of making a contribution to humanity.

I hope of World Peace.

I hope of a World

where we are all family.

I hope of a World

where we are not selfish.

A world where we think of others.

I hope of a World

where we feed the hungry.

I hope of the World

where everyone has a place to sleep.

I hope of a World

where Arabs and Jews

do not hate each other.

Where they

do not blow each other up.

I hope of a World

where people do not cheat and steal.

I hope of a World

where the rich

and famous are not favored.

Where all men

and women are equal.

I hope of a World

where

Blacks and Hispanic’s

and all minorities

have the same rights

as all of us.

I hope of a World

where people

do not have to live on the street.

I hope of a World

where we can awaken the possibility

within us all.

I hope for a World

where I live my love

and just do not talk about it.

I know

I must take the steps myself

through

Acts of Love

Live it out

in my experience.

I hope of a World

Stephen John Kalinich

Photo by L. K. Thayer

© 2011

Fruit For Thought…

 

 

“One does a whole painting for one peach and people think just the opposite -

that particular peach is but a detail.”
- Pablo Picasso

“Buddy” by Keven Bellows

I sometimes think the Jim he is becoming
may be the Jim who was. Buddy
swinging on a fence
around a New England clapboard
with a wide porch, where
his grandfather rocked rain or shine.

Summers in Still River away from parents–
Buddy’s happiest hours. When not
sitting with the man in the rocker,
retired by alcohol long before his time,
he was practicing his swing
with a found golf club
on the course behind the property,
scrounging balls to earn pocket change.

Always easiest on his own, Buddy thrived
in this odd company that included Emerson and Thoreau,
favorites of his wellborn grandfather,
a 19th century gentleman, who left him
an abiding affection for men of few words—
memories undiminished through eight decades.

More boy at the gate
eager for adventure,
than the grandfather he now is,
Jim’s reservoir of resilience is Buddy,
whose arrival incites the onset of summer,
lazy days lengthening, lure of tall grass,
leaves turned inside out looking for rain.

Unfailingly courteous, grateful
for love that surrounds without confining,
the solitary boy reclaims the man,
makes us comfortable on the porch,
while he makes for the fence
across an invisible lawn.

Keven Bellows

Photo by VC Ferry

© 2011

poet squeeze…

 

 

“God’s waiting room is full of painters and poets

and old black jazz saints in pork-pie hats.”

-Tom Russell

Photo by

VC Ferry

vcferry.com

© 2011

Juicy Quote

“Time is the longest distance between two places.”
Tennessee Williams

“(Explooored) TIME!” Photo by

.:Dark.Live:.

© 2011

Henry Miller

 

 

 

“Conditioned to ecstasy, the poet is like a gorgeous unknown bird mired in the ashes of thought. If he succeeds in freeing himself, it is to make a sacrificial flight to the sun. His dreams of a regenerate world are but the reverberations of his own fevered pulse beats. He imagines the world will follow him, but in the blue he finds himself alone. Alone but surrounded by his creations; sustained, therefore, to meet the supreme sacrifice. The impossible has been achieved; the duologue of author with Author is consummated. And now forever through the ages the song expands, warming all hearts, penetrating all minds. At the periphery the world is dying away; at the center it glows like a live coal. In the great solar heart of the universe the golden birds are gathered in unison. There it is forever dawn, forever peace, harmony and communion. Man does not look to the sun in vain; he demands light and warmth not for the corpse which he will one day discard but for his inner being. His greatest desire is to burn with ecstasy, to commerge his little flame with the central fire of the universe. If he accords the angels wings so that they may come to him with messages of peace, harmony and radiance from worlds beyond, it is only to nourish his own dreams of flight, to sustain his own belief that he will one day reach beyond himself, and on wings of gold. One creation matches another; in essence they are all alike. The brotherhood of man consists not in thinking alike, nor in acting alike, but in aspiring to praise creation. The song of creation springs from the ruins of earthly endeavor. The outer man dies away in order to reveal the golden bird which is winging its way toward divinity.”
— Henry Miller

(The Time of the Assassins: a Study of Rimbaud)

“Stella’s On The Phone” by L. K. Thayer

 

 

 

Stella’s on the phone
She called the other day
She loves to hear you moan
She knows just what to say

Stella’s on the phone
She’s calling you collect
You can’t wait to get her home
She’s keeping you erect

Stella’s on the phone
And for all the tea in china
She’ll have you in her zone
Take you in her wet vagina

Stella’s on the phone
And she’s got a lot to say
She won’t leave you alone
You are her perfect prey

Stella’s on the phone
And her conversation’s deep
She puts butter on your scone
Til you lay down and weep

Stella’s on the phone
You wish you’d lose her number
But you can’t leave her alone
Cuz she is your favorite tumbler

Stella’s on the phone
As she throws a curve ball
Stella makes you groan
As you give her your all

Stella’s on the phone
And she’s lying in wait
She always sets the tone
She’s the main course on your plate

Stella’s on the phone
Her line is always busy
You catch what she has thrown
She always makes you dizzy

Stella’s on the phone
She has you on the brink
She buries your hard bone
In her tight and mighty pink

Stella’s on the phone
You’re in her wishing well
All the oats that you have sewn
How she makes your cock swell

Stella’s on the phone
You cannot give her up
Your love has only grown
You love drinking from her cup

Stella’s on the phone
Be careful you don’t fall
As you stumble to get prone
Hope you never hear ‘last call.’

L. K. Thayer

“Stella’s On The Phone” Photo by

liquid

2 liquid

© 2011

Fruit For Thought…

“Art is a fruit that grows in man, like a fruit on a plant, or a child in its mother’s womb.”
- Jean Arp

L. K. Thayer’s Foto Fetish – © 2011