I'd rather be a hero than a schmuck
By Mikel K

Is is is, or is is if?



"Mikel, you inspire me with your courageous poetry, and thus, you expand
who I am, by encouraging me not to be afraid, or to reduce myself.
I am grateful! I love your poems, and comments."
--Heather Lalita Havey


Writing new material is the kick. Going back through old material, and reading it, and, or, editing it is not the kick, but someday I will sit down with 28 years worth of poems, and see if there is anything worthwhile in what I have written.


Someone said: "Mikel K: A Clothed, Sober, and Sane G.G. Allin."

"I've been following your posts...and enjoying your humor, wit,
in your writing and poetry."--Lisa Cohen

"Edgy, succinct, powerful."--Stonermom

"That is some deep stuff there man."--Regina Bowels

"Start your own business. That's how you start at the top.
Mikel, you are your own business. Best of luck! You have
worked long and hard and overcome some powerful demons.
Keep up the good work!"--Wyrdsli


"And a girl in the corner let no one ignore her
'Cause she thinks she's the passionate one..."
--Sweet


"Mikel K, you don't have to TRY to be a rock n roll star. You already are.
People love you! People hate you! That's how you know you are making an impact."
--Billy Fields, Rock Star

"I ain't doing nine to ninety in Parish Prison
so I must be doing all right..."--Mikel K, after listening to
Junko Partner by Spanky & The Love Handles, a song on their
"Hot Glazed Funky Dunk," cd.





Do you wish you had been an abortion?


An adopted child might have
a different point of view on this than you.






Benjamins

Cash in on yourself.
Make yourself pay.






It's our way of life or theirs

So a few sea turtles die,
so a few dolphins can't breath,
so some pelicans become extinct;
we have to get to work,
we have to get our children to school,
we have to go grocery shopping.







If I was not such a poor bastard

The oil spill dominates our minds
we know that we, and nature, are getting screwed
by men with only money on their minds
but we are in a bind
our hands are tied
we know not what to do
we are prisoners to our own thinking
to our own way of life
we are chained to our automobiles
many of us saying that a destroyed ocean
and dead and maimed sea turtles, and porpoises,
and pelicans are the price that we have to pay
to be able to get to work.
I have no solution,
just wishful thoughts,
just prayers to say,
I, too, know that it is not ok
to ruin mother nature
but I would have a car
if I had the cash for one.
Let me not be a hypocrite
and say that the stereo would not be blaring,
I would not be staring at the dials,
trying to figure out how to make the air conditioning
blast,
if I was not such a poor bastard.






The morning is a precious time. I feel that the morning is a precious gift given to me from God so that I can write. Sometimes, the morning starts around 5 a.m. Sometimes, it starts around noon. It always starts with at least one cup of coffee. It always starts with dogs wagging their tails, dogs trying to get close to me, close to my hands, even before I have left the bed.

Shawtie has been doing better in the last couple of days. Last night, I found Bundy and her curled up together underneath my desk, sharing the space that they had been fighting over earlier in the week. They are sharing that space right now, that space underneath my feet that is so precious to Bundy.

When I was younger, I often got in fights, after I had been drinking, and, often, the person who I got in a fight with, and I, would often become close later, we would become friends for the first time, or even better friends, if we had been friends before the fight. Perhaps the old saying about love and hate being such close emotions is true.

Kyle Caldwell and I were talking, yesterday, and he was saying how war stimulates our economy, how we, at home, all profit from our wars. It is a sad thing to note.

Boy George, in his saner days, once sang, "War, war is stupid, and people are stupid." I wish that it wasn't true.







A sterling example

She is a sterling example
of how having it all
is not having it all.
Posted by mikel k poet at 12:45 AM 0 comments Links to this post
I'm working my ass off, and I ain't got nothing

I reject the idea of "the hard worker."
It is just as "hard" to not work, or to not be a "worker."








What's Important

One basketball team beat
another basketball team
on the television tonight
and men in a bar screamed
at the tv like what was happening
was very important.







Slice of life as it is

There is a girl who is getting divorced
and all she wants is for a man to ask her out
in a nice way, buy her a steak, and bang her
brains out(her words, not mine.)
She is very cute, but men are hesitant
to take her up on this offer
because she has three children.






Shooter

Have another round.
Lose another day.
Pay the state
what should have gone
the landlord's way.





MK, your friend said it not you, i know, so i hope you dont mind this response, but i dont like to put personal info on walls on FB, rarely, so:

mikel k is daily a source of so much joy & delight for me, & i look forward to all his poems & all that he shares. he is very important to me, a friend i consider dear, & i dont want that fucked up. also: i have a bf of 3 yrs, though imperfect & maybe he's cheating on me, im not sure but i am very loyal, and trying to improve things. also: i normally date girls. though make an exception sometimes for a male.

please forgive me for writing this as it feels awkward,

but i love you dearly and everything you share means the world to me. i have a 0% success record with dating, (though 100% successful DURING the relationship :) at least the first parts) and generally dont date friends, as it gets fucked up and then i get depressed.

tomorrow my exbf is getting married, and i cant fucking go because im the "ex" - no thank you. i hate that. i cant even hang out with him anymore, because im the "ex"

why does the one that is most dear become the one that is not allowed to hang out??? or be there at all??

the whole system is somehow fucked up.

:(

please dont go away from me, because the things we share mean a lot to me
but i do adore you mikel k.

--Heather Lalita Havey







Deception is sometimes powerful

Your lips are tragedy.
I'm falling to my knees,
and then I realize,
that I have power
over the situation,also,
that I don't have to quiver
at your touch,
that if you are too much
for me
I can leave.








Misdirection

I stutter when I say too much.
I stay when I should leave for lunch.
Misdirection I take it for a buck.
The planet be damned,
I've got these bills to pay.
If you're not with me,
get out of my way.
For a million bucks
I would kill my children;
in the back yard their bodies would lay,
while in the house I'd have new toys
with which to play.






Puchi suggested that I put some of the Paul Mitchell Tea Tree Shampoo that I get from her salon into my foot water baths to see if it would help with this near painful skin condition that has evolved onto my feet, and you know what...after one foot bath done in such a manner, I can already feel marvelous results.

Knowledge is the key to just about everything, and for the most part, knowledge is sold to us, in bottle form at stores, in seminars, in schools. Free knowledge is, sometimes, regarded as no good, because that is the way that "they" have taught us to think; "they" being the ones who want us to buy everything.

More things should be free, and they are, if you would just look for them. Kris Kristofferson wrote, and Janis Joplin sang, "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose."

If you had nothing would you be free?

Make an appointment to get your hair styled by Puchi at Chez Danielle, today. The Puchi experience is marvelous, darling. She used to style Ru Paul, back in the day. Call 404) 892-3226 to make an appointment with Puchi.







Exposure

Stay the course,
steady the world.
be be my girl.
I know that won't
make everything better,
like love in a love song,
but,
stay the course,
steady the world,
be my girl.

She has claws, but doesn't claw me.
She has the potential to, but doesn't destroy me.






Love and Peace

She has claws, but doesn't claw me.
She has the potential to, but doesn't destroy me.






Peace and Love.

Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.
Peace and Love.








You know the way

You have strayed,
but you know the
way back.
You have lived
a life of hate,
but it's not too late to love.
You can do anything
while you are still alive
and breathing,
start right now
start by conceiving
a better life
for you, and the world.







The way to get you some peace

The way to get you some peace
is to get rid of hate and anger.
The way to get you some peace
is to fill your heart with love.
The way to get you some peace
is to get out of your head,
and be good for someone else
besides yourself.
The way to get you some peace
is to have you some children,
or a cat, or some dogs,
or some cats and dogs.
The way to get you some peace
is to breath in and out
through your nose.
The way to get you some peace,
the way to get you some peace
is to want peace and love to be
part of your existence.
Get you some peace and love.






Do you turn a bi-polar dog away?

Shawtie is bi-polar
she needs doggie lithium
one minute she is happy
on her back growling
and amusing herself
the next minute
she is in a vicious fight
with one of my other dogs.







Just say no to roller coasters

I'll never ride The Cyclone
but I'll visit Coney Island.
I'll come home with a box
of salt water taffy,
like all the good tourists do.
I love to travel,
it is a very good thing to do.







Bundy is always aware of what I am doing. He is always looking up at me to see what is happening, to see what is going to happen next. Bundy was such a bad dog, when he first came to me; he did everything wrong, frustrated,and pissed me off at every turn. Somehow, Bundy and I got close, and he got better at behaving in a manner that I could accept. Bundy is by no means perfect, but then neither am I, but we have become friends, and you often let a friend get away with more than you would anybody else.






Shawtie leaves us tomorrow. Her stay has not been the most pleasant thing, but in retrospect no one got killed! I am not sure if I will let Shawtie stay with us in the future. I will have to evaluate the situation at the time. Even bad dogs need a home. Even bad dogs need a place to stay when their master goes away on vacation.

Shawtie has been a part of our family for a very long time. I was a bad member of this family for quite awhile myself, and I was not turned away. The door was not shut on me to be a member of this family, in spite of myself, and the inner turmoil that I was experiencing that manifested itself in exterior turmoil for those who loved me.

I love Shawtie, and I bet that inspite of their difference over the past week, that Morisson, and Bundy do, too. Everybody is at peace here this morning. May peace be with you.







No wants on my wish list

If I have no wants,
I am at peace with myself.
I have needs,
but if I breath in and out,
these needs will be satisfied.
I have coffee, this morning,
so all is well in my world!







I am going to have some quiche for breakfast. I am blessed to have the ingredients to make quiche, this morning. I am blessed to have food in the refrigerator. I am thankful for what I have, and yearn to not yearn for what I don't have. I want to live in the now, not in the tomorrow, not in the yesterday. I have learned that breathing in, and breathing out, through my nose calms me down, and puts me in the now. I have learned to live on less, and not yearn for more. I am at peace, this morning, with myself and with life, with my life as it has been given to me, as I have given it to myself. I have coffee to sip on. I am thankful for this, also. I am thankful for this gift of life. Life is the most precious thing that I have. Life is worth more than money. I love life.






The cats have been fed. The coffee is brewing. I just saw Kobain intruding into Jaggar's food bowl. The two of them seem to have worked it out; they have been brothers for a long time, now.






SATURDAY, JUNE 05, 2010
Kobain, the cat, just defended Jaggar, the cat's empty bowl, from Henry, the dog, who had his big nose in it.

Out of the four dogs here, right now, Henry The Good Neighbor Great Dane is the only one who will eat popcorn...so...he is the only one that will, right now, get a snack!!





I just ate some pop corn.

Never fight back, let them push you around, and see where that leads you.









Mikel K Poet: I'm not sure that I enjoy my "tweets" showing up on my Facebook, but, at one time, I probably set it to do that.


Mikel K Poet: I don't know how to admit this, but I have, basically, gotten used to barking dogs, when the barking is in my space. Distant barking still irritates me, like I'm sure the barking of my dogs must others.


Mikel K Poet: I'm trying hard not to eat a brownie, right now...Mary sent me these great brownies, and a part of me wants to consumer them all in one sitting, but another part of me realized that that is not the healthy thing to do, and besides, it is always fun to save things for another sitting.






I'm through with this

You never write back,
so I fight back,
resist any temptation
to text you.
It's a strange world,
through and through,
love should be simple,
but most times
when I find myself
on the edge of it,
I don't know what to do.
I don't know what to do,
and you ain't helping
you ain't helping me
get through this,
ok, I'm through with this.







I'm looking at a pretty box that came in the mail, today, full of brownies, while listening to Axl Rose scream, "You could be mine. I just fed the dogs. Morisson wants a snack.

We all want things, but, sometimes, we have to wait for the things we want, and, sometimes, they never come, and, usually, that is alright, because something even better comes along...like I had planned on being a Rock Star Poet when I was 34, but, instead, I became a father. And by becoming a father, I became sober, and that saved my life, and now that the kids are grown up I can work at being a Rock Star Poet, again, but this time I will go at it not in blackouts, not winding up in the drunk tank after gigs, or laying bloody on the sidewalk, having been just kicked out of the same club that I had "performend" in, beaten up by the same doorman who had earlier let me in free. I can breath easier, even in smoke filled clubs, and it feels really good to feel this way.







No loss

If I miss the news, today,
there will be news tomorrow.
And if I miss the news tomorrow,
there will be news the next day,
and the next, and the next,
and, really, if I miss the news
I haven't missed out on anything.







Rain turns to sunshine

Sunshine, and rain nourish the garden.
The garden feeds the soul;
corporations have stolen the garden.






I've had trouble, recently, thinking that being a poet is enough.
I would be of so much greater value to the man, and woman, and to
the environment, if I was The Top Executive at BP. Look how much
good I would have done, recently, for the world.





You never know

You're the girl in the corner who I ignored;
now you've grown into something that I must have.
You laugh remembering how I didn't have time for
you just several months ago.
Posted by mikel k poet at 2:55 PM 0 comments Links to this post
There are no certainties, except for uncertainty.








Seek Heaven

My parents stayed married,
so that they could put money
in The Pope's basket on Sunday.
He had them brainwashed into belieiving
that he was the way to avoid hell,
when, really, they were living it
trying to live like The Pope said.







There are no absolutes

Well, if it doesn't work out with him,
maybe you will hook up with me,
but only if I'm not with her.







I think the end of spring must bring some sadness with it;
there has been such in this space, and in the space next to it,
but life is cyclicale, made up of so many different vibes,
and, soon, we all will be smiling, again.






You can get used to just about anything

When you're single, you seek a hook up.
When you're hooked up, you dream of being single.
When you're eating shrimp, you wish that you had
ordered a salad.
When you ordered a salad, you wish you were out
sailing the sea, but you can't because BP
is dumping oil into it.






I think that electric guitars can cure mental illness, bring you back in the fold, as it were, cure depression, overcome frustration, slow mania down, bring you around to a happy feeling when all you have been feeling is blue.

The Robby Krieger guitar on, "When The music's over," by The Doors made me think of this. I was feeling irritated, a bit discombobulated when this guitar pulled me in, made me think other than I was thinking, made me feel other than I was feeling.

Now, I don't know what is going to happen when this song is over; will I progress to a happy state, will I regress to my most recent unpleasant feelings?

"What have they done to the earth?
What have they done to our fair sister?
Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her
Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn
And tied her with fences and dragged her down."

--Jim Morrison, and The Doors
From, "When The Music's Over."






Shawtie is matching Henry bark for bark this morning (and Henry is often quite a barker when his human folks are not home.) I really can't wait for Shawtie to go home in two days; she has been a really lousy house guest. She has started four fights with Bundy, one with Morisson, has caused Bundy to run off twice, which Bundy never does, and has turned Morisson into even more of a neurotic mess than he usually is. The only good thing that I can think about in relation to Shawtie's visit is that she has not killed, and eaten, both of my cats, Kobain, and Jaggar.






Things pass without you

The French Open has been won, again,
by a woman whose name I do not recognize.
One day, I will be dead,
and The French Open will carry on without me,
much like it is now.








Mind tripping

My brain wanders up and down,
and from side to side, sometimes,
and, sometimes, it pounds
the side of my skull begging
to get out.







What a precious life I have been given

The scent of marmalade lifts me from my pillow.
Two dogs panting greets me as I rise from the mattress.
A couple of cats jump from the bed as I put my feet on the floor.
Soon, the aroma of coffee fills the apartment.
I feed the dogs, cats, and turtles;
not in the same order every day. Birds chirp outside my window.
I sit down, and begin to type.








FRIDAY, JUNE 04, 2010

Jaggar was the first to press his nose against the front door window, and watch the Friday afternoon rain pound down. My tomato plants, cucumber plants, carrots, and spinach seem to be enjoying the late spring showers that have mostly been part of our day; they are popping up through the dirt, happily. I grabbed my laptop, and my dog, Morisson, and headed to the porch to watch, and listen to the water pound down.

I had just come from my first swim in the park pool. It had been a bummer of a swim. I ran into an old acquaintance of mine, and all he had to dump on me was bad news. I got out of the water much sooner than I would have, but all that he was saying was bringing me down. He had no gratitude for anything. Initially, I had been glad to run into this fellow, as I had not seen him in a long time. My thoughts, and prayers, go out to him.







You're not the only mother in America who woke up
and yelled at your children today. You're not a
serial killer. You're not the worst person that
The Bible says that you could be, so relax,
you're children love you; they don't expect you
to be a perfect mother, so why should you set
such high expectations for yourself? You apologized
to them, now apologize to yourself.







Warren Buffett is a pig








Not every one was meant to be a two

I don't know of any examples of it
in nature, but my nature is to be alone.
Time together is somehow time corrupted;
I can't think like I need to think,
I can't see to do what I need to do,
when you are here, so, I need to kill
this yearning, this false hope
that someone out there exists,
who would want to be with me.
I am meant to be alone,
best just to accept it.







The dogs keep turning off the air conditioning,
they brush up against the electrical plugs
disconnecting them. Perhaps the dogs are trying
to tell me something; maybe they like it hot
as spring slowly passes into summer.








Call it business and you can get away with anything

Men should go to jail,
for being responsible
for this oil spill in The Gulf.
They should lose every penny
that they own,
they should be made to suffer
like the world will suffer,
because of the spill, but they won't.
The crime witll be pawned off
as just doing "business."
Hands will shake,
smiles will be exchanged,
and business will continue, as usual.







It sucks to be empty.

It sucks to have plenty,
and still feel like you are not full.
It sucks to have a swimming pool,
and to only want to sit in the shade
and cry.
It sucks to have a nice car,
but to not want to drive.
It sucks to have money,
but to be cheap, and live like you are broke anyway.






Shawtie has taken over Bundy's two places of rest; she walks back from one to the other like she is on patrol, guarding something that she has just taken in a war. Bundy has found a new place of refuge. I will be glad when Shawtie is gone, on Monday; she has caused too many problems. Last night, Bundy ran off into the dark, and stayed gone for about 45 minutes. Bundy has never run off, in the nearly two years that we have lived here. It is funny the effect one being can have on others. The BP oil spill somehow comes to mind here.






Success would be nice
regarding getting this computer
hooked back up to the internet,
but success is so far eluding me,
which is frustrating.






He's right

"It costs money to be born,"
I said, and, "It costs money to die.
"That's crazy," said my son,
"that it costs money to die."








A dog just stuck their nose into my hand, as I was sitting at my desk. I figured that it was Bundy; he most often camps under my desk, and often seeks attention from there, but I was wrong: it was Shawtie, my old dog, who is visiting us for ten days who had pushed her nose into my hand. Shawtie has kind of pissed me off, since she has been here. She has picked a fight with Bundy three times since walking through our front door for her visit, and with Morisson once. I am not used to having dog fights in my house, and it is not something that I want to get used to.

Several years ago, I saved Shawtie from going to the pound. My upstairs neighbors, at the time, had gotten Shawtie, as a cute, cute puppy from a cab driver on a ride home from a bar. Several months later, my upstairs neighbors were moving out, and they weten't going to take Shawtie with them.

When another of our neighbors told me that Shawtie was going to the pound, I said to that neighbor, "No, she's not," and I went upstairs and got Shawtie.

Shawtie, and Javi, and Morisson and I lived together well. I do not recall Shawtie attacking either Morisson, or Javi in the time that we had together. Then, my oldest boy's house was broken into. He was always very close to Shawtie, and I decided that a dog in the house might be good for my son.








Scratch

The cat scratched your cd
now I can't hear you ego
play on my stereo.






Advance into morning see good it can be

There is no room for silence, between you and me.
You are just a fantasy laying on my pillow.
I don't know when the last time it was
that I saw a weeping willow.






I turn the oldies channel on just in time to catch a string of commercials.
I was hoping for sounds to soothe a semi-ill mood, not chatter that would
make it worse.






Chocolate dreams

There are days when I only want
to eat chocolate, and sleep.







If I could touch your lips with more than my eyes









Henry was happy to see me this morning; he loves to visit with Bundy. Shawtie is growling at him, as if she owns the house, and is not just visiting for a week. I'm soaking my feet in hot water. The right foot is a yucky mess; it is all broken out in skin. What is a good, and cost effective, thing to soak your feet in? Can anyone supply me with a great home remedy. The lotion that the foot doctor prescribed was fifty dollars a tube. I will have to find a doctor who believes less in giving the pharmaceutical companies a helping hand.

I feel kind of like doo doo poo poo, so far today. I just took an over the counter allergy pill; let's see if that helps.

My timing was awful as I lead Henry out onto the porch, so that he could follow me to the great outdoors beyond, to see if Henry had to do his number two thing. I have to keep a close eye on this Great Dane. I do not want him to explode all over my carpet, again, like he did the other day. His intentions were obviously good: he shat heading towards the front door, but that, still, doesn't cut it. I was down on my hands, and knees, for the better part of an hour. Henry's poop stinks!! And cleaning up after Henry, in such a situation stinks, also!







We get screwed by their lust for the dollar

They've polluted our oceans.
They've polluted our air, and rivers,
so that they can make a buck.
I'm scared to eat tuna,
oh go on they say:
the body can stand a little poisoning.
They have other oceans to swim in,
air in far away places to breath,
rivers so beautiful to fish in,
rivers that we will never see.
Their fish won't come from polluted waters.









In my world

Things that I am used to using
like the icon on the monitor
that tells me what the temperature is
are now out of commission
since my laptop won't connect
to the internet.

I could be a soldier bleeding
after a car bomb exploded
while I was walking along
being a soldier,

I could be a dolphin, or a seat turtle
trying to survive in the Gulf of Mexico.

I could be a child being sexually molested
by my father.

I could be a young woman
willing to sell herself
in order to be able to get more crack cocaine.

You get the idea;
things are not so bad in my world.







And they say that I don't have a job

Poems not only have to be written,
but they have to be organized,
filed away for later
when they may be retrieved
to be put in a book.






A line from somebody else's song

It's twelve forty nine
I can't tell if you are his, or mine.
This happens every time
that I fall in love;
push comes to shove,
when the eagle flies with the dove.

(The last line of this poem
was written by Stephen Stills.)







It's all being done by doing nothing

There is nothing that needs to be accomplished
when you sit on a porch and it rains.
Listening to the rain is all that you must do.







I'm in love with the quiet of the day

Fascination with a dull day,
nothing grand was planned.





Love lives miles away

My refreshment is her smile
She is miles away, but that is o.k.








Not about Heather

I'll never lend you anything,
like my love,
I'll never give you my heart,
you suddenly don't give me
any inspiration,
I don't see why I have been
running around after you.



Where are you?

I wake up in the morning
take no look into your eyes
you haven't arrived yet.





Who's going to heaven?

What's the difference between killing a fish, pig, or a cow?
What's the difference between you and a corporation killing
a fish, pig, or a cow?
Who's going to heaven: a Muslim or a Buddhist, a Catholic or a Jew?
Which is better: silence in a home for decades, or divorce?
Do you stay in jail longer for killing a rich man,
or somebody from the hood?
If a law was passed because the pharmecutical companies,
or any other major corporation lobbied heavily for it,
are you really under any obligation to follow it?
If you saw a poor guy on the side of the street,
and just looked at him, is that how you will treat the one you love?





When the end comes before the beginning

I know it might sound crazy,
but I'd give you my heart;
thing is I don't know how to do it
seems there are so many obstacles in the way.
and you might not take it,
and that would be the end of my fantasy.








Getting beat on the unbeaten path

You can tell by these hands
and by what they've been holding
that I'm not a very innocent kind of guy,
and you might look me in these eyes
blue, and shining, and ask me why?
And I would tell you that I don't really know;
sometimes, you get out on that road,
and you never really know where you're going to go.








Feigning the game

Sometimes you fake your way through life
like a guard in a basketball game
trying to get past a forward to the hoop.
Sometimes, you fake your way through a moment,
like a prison guard who acts as if he is not
going to hit you, once again,
when you are his prisoner bleeding on the ground.
Sometimes you have trouble getting started,
you hit the alarm clock, again, and again,
wishing that you could smash it to oblivion.
Sometimes, life is hard,
but often it is easy, if you just let it be that way.





Thoughts on be television babies fed

I believe that a wide set of possibilities
exists out there in the great big world,
but I enjoy sitting at home with my dogs, and cats,
more, and more.
If I'm out, and you're obnoxious, it's hard to ignore you,
but if I'm home you won't get through the front door.
I turned the cable tv off, almost a year ago;
where will be the next war I don't know know,
I have no idea who serial killed who,
where the latest hurricane is going to blow.
You could say that I have stuck my head in the sand,
but I say that I have a stronger hand in creating my own reality.
Possibilities are endless, and they start with you.
Sometimes, you have to tune out all the changes
that they want to put you through.
We can all make our own decision about what kind of trash bags to use,
why waste time watching commercials trying to influence you?
I'm not a baby, neither are you.
We don't need to be spoon or force fed.








There is no us anymore

I ain't been drinking, but I been thinking of you
all the changes you put me through
you rearranged me put me up on a shelf
like a trophy that offered proof
of what you could do to a man'
I was helpless, but I had a strong hand,
in that helplessness.
You and me.
You and me,
ended up rather empty,
but there were times when I felt very full,
so says this body that's starting to age,
so says this mind that no longer rages all the time.
You and me,
you and me,
we almost made it,
two almost became one for the passage of infinite time,
but in the end you took what was yours,
and I took what was mine.
You and me,
you and me,
thre is no us anymore.






Shawtie is visiting

Shawtie is visiting
for ten days,
and she doesn't know
that dogs are not allowed
on my bed,
so she lays there
for large parts of each day.
I wonder what
the dogs who live here
think about that?









Metamorphosis

Her world is crashing down on top of her,
and all that she can do is build another world.
Posted by mikel k poet at 7:29 AM 0 comments Links to this post
It gets hot in here, early. I turn the two window ac units off at night, before I go to bed, and I try to hold off on turning them on in the morning. I live on a fixed income, and a highly fluctuating electric bill cuts into the amount that I eat.

I try not to enter into unsatisfactory relationships, but, often, you can't predict which relationships are going to prove to be lousy; you just have to take a chance. Of course, you could just not enter into any relationships; that would protect you, but then you wouldn't find the relationships that are fun, and meaningful.

Some women are into older men; some are into younger men. Some women judge men for who they are, and not their age, so a clever, intelligent older man probably can score some younger babes. Younger babes, and older men, for the most part, do not have a lot in common. A lot of older women are burnt out on men, having been put through ringer by men for most of their life. There are no absolutes. Everything is subject to change. What you like, or love, today, you might not like, or love, tomorrow. Love is a bit stronger than like, and, hopefully, a bit less whimsical.

Some women are only attracted to men with money, which begs the question are they attracted to money. Money is a good thing. Nobody wants to date a leach.







I can't get all the computers(both of them, actually)to work at once. I can get one laptop, and my internet phone to work off the wifi, but not the other laptop. I can get the other laptop to work, by hooking a cord directly into the modem, and putting it in the computer, but then the internet phone, hooked up to the modem, also, doesn't work.

I have tried rebooting everything. I have tried disconnecting the network adapters, and rebooting. I have stuck my tongue out at the computer.









He was weird, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.
He started adding female friends of mine,
almost as soon as I added him, so he made his intentions clear,
and I blocked him.
Dick heads don't last long in my world.






I ain't been drinking, but I been thinking of you
all the changes you put me through
you rearranged me put me up on a shelf
like a trophy that offered proof
of what you could do to a man'
I was helpless, but I had a strong hand,
in that helplessness.
You and me.
You and me,
ended up rather empty,
but there were times when I felt very full,
so says this body that's starting to age,
so says this mind that no longer rages all the time.
You and me,
you and me,
we almost made it,
two almost became one for the passage of infinite time,
but in the end you took what was yours,
and I took what was mine.
You and me,
you and me,
thre is no us anymore.







I ain't been drinking, but I been thinking of you
all the changes you put me through
you rearranged me put me up on a shelf
like a trophy that offered proof
of what you could do to a man'
I was helpless, but I had a strong hand,
in that helplessness.
You and me.
You and me,
ended up rather empty,
but there were times when I felt very full,
so says this body that's starting to age,
so says this mind that no longer rages all the time.
You and me,
you and me,
we almost made it,
two almost became one for the passage of infinite time,
but in the end you took what was yours,
and I took what was mine.
You and me,
you and me,
thre is no us anymore.








Inside, I scream

My laptop has suddenly started doing strange things,
the worst of which is to not connect to the internet.
I am like a baby who has had his bottle removed
from his lips before he was done eating; inside I cry.






It's a quiet Tuesday evening; the dogs are asleep on the porch.
It has quit raining.






One neighbor

She said hello when she moved in, a couple of times,
but now she doesn't say hello, just keeps her eyes
in front of her, as if that makes me, and the dogs disappear.




Everybody is fat with cash when they are living on student loans.






Henry just shit from one end of my living room to the other end, and then he got up on my bed, and wiped his ass. I'm really not happy about this; this is the second time in the two months, or so that he has done this. About 45 minutes before he did this, Henry was taken outside with all of the other dogs. Why couldn't he have done his thing then? I find this to be highly disrespectful on Henry's part. I have him quarantined in the bathroom, so that he won't walk through his poop, and track it through the rest of the house. As soon as I have cleaned up after him, which will take at least an hour, I am going to take him home. I am really pissed at Henry, even though I love him.




I can be writing, be deeply involved with my laptop, fingers on the keyboard going a million miles an hour; thoughts flying from my brain to the page in front of me, and, suddenly, out of nowhere, I am petting two or three dogs.

Morisson leads the mishcief, is the chief arthitect at pulling me from my life's work onto his head. He wiggles his nose under my arm to start the proceedings, working his way to my hand, as he pulls it off of the keyboard.

When I start scratching Morisson's head, that is Bundy's cue to come push Morisson off of my hand, to steal Morisson's position. Undaunted, Morisson just moves to my other hand, and there I am, instead of typing poems, and memoir entrees, scratching the heads of my two loving dogs.

When Henry is visiting, or Shawtie, they get involved in this event, also, positioning themselves one way or another to get my hand on their head also.

When we have guests, I often find myself petting three or four dogs at a time with two hands. What a life. What a special life these dogs give me; think how boring a person I would be if all I did was type all the time.





Are all deaths equal?

Soldiers died, today, and heroin addicts
someone drank themselves to death,
and someone stepped in front of a fast moving car
ending their life, changing forever
the life of the person driving the car.





Were cows meant to be hamburgers?

Or were they meant to live their lives
in peace, like the rest of us?








Back to The Garden

I planted the last two Canna Plants
along the walk to our house;
between the first one and the second one
I put one of my tiny tomato seedlings
that I have grown in a pot from seed.
Between the second and third Cannas
I put two of my cucumber plant seedlings.
I dug the dirt up real good, tilled it,
and then soaked the seeds with water.
Then, I took a handful of basil seeds
and scattered them over two patches of dirt
that I had dug up, and tilled. I put a light
coat of dirt over them, and soaked them
with water, also.
I have one cucumber plant that is doing
real well. It is way bigger than any other
cucumber, or tomato that I planted in pots.
That cucumber plant now stares up at me from
the dirt in my garden.
The tomato, cucumber, spinach, and pumkin seeds
that I placed in the good earth are showing green
above the brown dirt.
I have high hopes for them.
I will never have to go the the grocery store,
again, someday, if I stay on this path!!




Then where is the fun

Everything is bad for you.
Everything is bad for the earth.
Posted by mikel k poet at 5:23 PM 0 comments Links to this post
This church that gave me some food, recently, also gave me a two pack of Mennen Speed Stick deodorant. Dr. Shirlene Holmes, my Theatre Prof. in college, a cancer survivor, told us that most of "their" deodorants cause cancer. I did a Google for, Mennen Speed Stick causes cancer," and I got this result,

"This product contains an ingredient that is a suspected skin or sense organ toxicant."
http://www.goodguide.com/products/162309-mennen-speed-stick-anti-perspirant-deodorant-gel

toxicant [ˈtɒksɪkənt]
1. a toxic substance; poison

This sucks, because, now, I will have to dispose of this toxicant containing product, and buy one that is safer to use. Why would a company put a toxicant in their product?







As a gardener, I am especially happy to see an afternoon rain spring upon us. As a person with a porch, I love to sit on the porch, and watch, and listen to, the rain, as it hits the house that we live in, and pounds the pavement that we walk on.

I just watched Monkey, the semi-stray cat, scurry from the bowl that I fill with food for her,outside my porch door, to underneath a car, across the street. My dog, Morisson, is perched at my feet, the thunder and lightening scaring him, as usual.

I will not have to water my tomatoes, cucumbers, spinach, or carrots this evening. I thank My Higher Power for this afternoon shower.







The desire to eat breakfast
may be overcome by the desire
to lay down, again.
Each desire is strong.






Sometimes, the page remains blank,
but not very often.
Sometimes, I am so calm
that I don't feel the need
to put words on a page.
Posted by mikel k poet at 2:02 AM 0 comments Links to this post
There was a car with a corporate pizza chain sign lit up on its roof slowly going down our street, just a minute ago. It's almost two a.m. I delivered pizza for a long time, and I can not imagine delivering it at this ungodly hour of the day. The stores that I delivered pizza for were owned by individuals, and their hours were more humane. Of course, the delivery person inside that car, tonight, may love to be delivering pizza at a time when most folks are asleep; who am I to point the finger, or criticize?

I got a bit of sun working in my garden today. I transfered my prize cucumber plant from its pot into the good earth, this morning. Tomorrow, I am going to take a bunch of tomato plants from pots, and put them in the earth, also. The tomato, spinach, cucumber, and pumpkin seeds that I planted awhile back are starting to pop their little heads through the dirt, also. A neighbor dug up some canna plants from his patch of them, and gave them to me, so that I could plant them in our front yard. It feels, somehow, special to walk among these majestic plants in a spot, that yesterday was just grass. I am hoping that the landlord enjoys this improvement that I have made to his property!

I went swimming today; did laps at the pool. I feel good about this. Exercise makes my mood wonderful. Exercise is probably better than any pill that can be prescribed for your head.

The Good Neighbors are both gone, this weekend, and I am going to be babysitting Henry and Anna, the Great Danes. I am not so much really babysitting them as hanging out with them. Henry likes to hang out with us a lot. Anna is older, and she sleeps a bunch. They are both really great dogs. It is going to be a wonderful weekend!
(Gosh, it is only Wednesday, and I am talking about the weekend...!)

May the peace, and love of The Lord, the Creator, your Higher Power be with you, now, and always. Is it not a blessing to be alive. Is not life the best gift that The Creator can bestow upon us. Let's live life to the fullest: you, and me, myself, and I!




God God, another day has ended.
I thank Good God for the day.









Time to walk the dogs

Calm down, Bundy
she was hot,
but she wasn't very friendly.
Maybe she didn't like you
barking at her dog.
Maybe men had been mean to her
all her life.
Maybe she looked up
and saw an old man
sitting on his porch
with his dogs,
and if it had been
a younger man
she would have been friendlier.
Who knows.






I don't want to fuck her,
and I marvel at this,
when I was younger,
I wanted to fuck everything
that walked.





Oh, the places that we find ourselves in

Cocaine feels so good until it doesn't,
and, then, there you are not feeling so good,
and everybody has a solution for you,
go to AA,
go to CA,
be a man,
be a woman,
pull yourself up by the bootstraps,
get a hold of yourself,
you can do it.
The same pretty much goes for you
when alcohol stops working for you.








I don't like to be pigeonholed

I'm not a Republican.
I'm not a conservative.
I'm not a Democrat.
I'm not a liberal.
I'm a human being
with thoughts and feelings.







I really need to take this advice myself

For every thought, there is another thought.
For every argument, there is another argument.
For every discussion,
there is another way to discuss it.
For every smile, there is another smile,
and we ought to smile when we think, argue,
or discuss things.





We have neighbors across the way, who have a porch, like we do, and tonight they were sitting on their porch, and I didn't know that they were there, and they heard me try to get my two immediate neighbors, who were sitting on our porch with me, to form a Charlie Manson like cult with me, and go around the neighborhood moving people's furniture about, and then killing them.

I was totally joking, of course, trying to get the sick laugh, but I might not have been so loud in my requests if I had known that neighbors other than my immediate neighbors were listening; I mean it's just not the kind of joke that you want just anyone to get in on.

Later, I asked the female half of my immediate neighbors if she was a Christian, and she said, "Yes." I asked her if she believed that Christ died, and rose from the dead, and she said, "Yes."

I told her that I believed that there was a guy named Christ, just like there was a guy named Buddha, and that this Christ guy had a lot of great things to say, but I did not think that he died, and rose again, that that was just a myth created around him, after his death, by people wishing to exploit him so that they could get other people to do what they wanted them to do, and to get money out of them.

Nobody really knows for sure; do they?







I don't trust the All-American looking guy,
in the Oxford shirt, and khaki pants. I used to be him.







"Gimmee gimmee your dirty laundry, but don't give me your polluting soap."








Something like that

Have you killed the 40's,
cured the head,
brushed the teeth,
and now you're ready for bed?

You don't seem lonely,
though you go to bed
by yourself at night.

Have you petted your cat,
filled your tank,
so you'll have gas
to get to work,

paid the bills,
smoked a smoke.

This is your life,
it is no joke.





Mikel K Poet: "If it's working for you, then it must be good."
.






Cocaine in its infancy.
Heroin on that very first day.
Robbing banks,
and killing strangers.





My dad used to say that I should have my head examine.
He wasn't going to pay for it, though.






A new point of view

I want to adopt a kid
who would have been an abortion,
I want to give the kid life,
instead of death,
this is a new point of view
that I'm coming to.
You have the right to choose,
but the kid can't lose
if it grows up with me.
Life was hard for me,
as a kid,
at times I'd wished
that I hadn't been born,
but I've lived long enough
to where waking in the morning
is my favorite thing to do.

I want to adopt a kid
who would have been an abortion,
I want to give the kid life,
instead of death,
this is a new point of view.





My cat, Kobain, has this practice of jumping on my chest the moment that I lay down on my bed and digging his nose into my hand, forcing me to scratch, and rub him. Just now, he jumped up onto my lap, as I am sitting at my desk, and burrowed his nose into my hand. I think that I am going to have to ignore him, so that we keep this little game to bedtime, and do not have him interfering with the great works of art that I am creating here at my desk.





I ate sausage this morning, the dead pig kind. I think that the dead pig sausage somehow polluted me, made me start to think negative thoughts, because the pig was in so much pain when he or she was killed, and all those growth hormones, all that negative energy went into me when I at the dead body of a pig, today.

I ate sausage this morning, the dead pig kind. I think that the dead pig sausage somehow polluted me, made me start to think negative thoughts, because the pig was in so much pain when he or she was killed, and all those growth hormones, all that negative energy went into me when I at the dead body of a pig, today. I am a sinner. Castrate me. Take me to hell. I didn't put any money in the basket, either. There must be a deeper hell for that. Hell is for children. I'm not a child. Sometimes, you can live hell, right here on earth. Maybe this is hell. Hell, I don't know. I'm going to go eat lunch.





Note to a future employer: I enter into most every new money making venture with deep fear.

I don t like having to make money. I look upon it as a deep intrusion into my soul, that some cowardly, greedy, and evil men hoisted upon us collectively...instead of just letting us live.






Why is is is?

If a man goes to jail for killing
then why they got us flying a flag
for going to war?

If it is so good to down an opponent,
then why do we help a child
when they fall?

These questions sound stupid,
but I've got to ask them, anyway.






Sometimes I wonder why is is is.

Why is is is?
Why is is is"
Whey does is got to be is, anyway?
Isn't there anyway that we can
see the new day in another way.


Why is is is?
Why is is is?
Whey does is got to be is, anyway?
Isn't there anyway that we can
see the new day in another way.

Nothing's smooth
nothing's right
.
Make the rules up as you go.
Don't be mean don't be cruel.






Ode to Joran van der Sloot

Sometimes, it takes awhile
for a piece of shit to surface,
but it will surface.






Two views of the ocean

There are no seagulls to look up at,
no sea shells to find,
no sand to walk in,
no clear water to jump into
where I stay this morning,
but I am happy to be sipping
on this cup of coffee,
right here where I am.
It would be nice to be at the beach,
but, for right now, it is out of reach.

As I was typing this, I thought,
how there are probably no seagulls to look up at,
no sea shells to find,
no sand to walk in,
no clear water to jump into,
where BP is in the Gulf of Mexico,
and how there are BP executives
sipping on coffee,
trying to figure out
how to minimize their economic loss.





Insanity

I'm on a slow moving train
trying to catch a fast moving plane
My love is insane,
she wants me to rub her feet,
and cure her headache
from 1,500 miles away.






Vacate my space

I hate to see you go, but
don't let that door not
hit you on the ass,
that's the last time that
you'll make a pass at
a friend of mine, you always
blame it on the wine,
but you are drinking wine
all the time. I used to
call you mine, with a smile
on my face. Now I just
can't wait until you vacate
my space.






Let it be

I don't know that I am dieing,
but a friend of mine does.
That doesn't mean that I can't
die before him; you never know
about these kind of things.








Let it be

I know a girl she has fake tits.
I know a girl she has no kids.
I know all kinds of girls,
but I'm going to bed alone, tonight,
except for my cat, who will
jump up on the bed and demand
that I scratch him.

I know a man he drinks too much wine,
wakes up in the morning with a hangover,
but says that he is fine.
I can't do nothing about you,
I can only work on me.
That rock group knew what they were saying,
when they said, "Let it be."











Raisin biscuits on a Saturday, and Henry

I might make some raisin biscuits, today;
it seems like a good thing to do on a Saturday.
I need to clean out the turtles' tank;
it seems like it was just yesterday
that I cleaned it,
but it has been several weeks.
There is no free swim at the pool, today,
so I won't be going swimming.
I bought coffee, yesterday, and milk,
and filters.
I, also, bought bananas, if you must know.
Henry is visiting,
and, right now, he is behaving excellently,
which means that there are no people,
or no people with dogs passing by on the sidewalk.





Is it ok to have bad thoughts?

I would like to have compassion for everyone,
but when people treat me with no compassion
I find it very hard to turn the other cheek
and let them slap that one,
so,
I get angry, and have bad thoughts about that person,
even though I may be polite to them on the surface.
I suppose that I am not perfect,
and that I may never stop having bad thoughts,
but I think that it is good that I have stopped
acting out on these bad thoughts.




Neighbors: it's a family affair

The mean lady who lives across the street
was loading her car, today,
as the Great Danes, and I, were visiting
the great out doors.
She shot me a dirty look,
and stared, for a moment, at the dogs,
as if they were rapists come to ravage
her shit existence.
It is funny how one neighbor turns out to be
somebody who just loves to learn,
and another neighbor turns out to be
somebody who just loves to burn.

(Heads up to Stevie Wonder for his impart
to this poem.)






Right now

I'm spiritual, when it's convenient.
I'm friendly when I want to be.
I'm polite if the mood suits me.
I'm handsome to some of you.
I'd rather touch fists,
than shake hands.
I don't eat much ice cream,
even though I love it.
I hate to fish.
I used to play tennis.
I used to play basketball.
I love sushi.
I hate it when my dogs
bark loudly at the door
like they are doing right now.





Death is the end no matter what

Everything that we eat
is going to kill us.
The air that we breath
is going to kill us.
The water we drink
is going to kill us.
Sushi is going to kill us.
Fried food is going to kill us.
We are going to die one day,
anyway, so why not enjoy life.
I have never had a seven year itch

If you have an itch,
and you can't quite reach it,
what do you do?

If I have an itch,
that I can't quite reach,
I just let it go,
and the itch goes away.








Expressing gratitude for a new attitude

I don't know what hit me:
I have a smile on my face.
I used to run about in this human race,
with a frown.
I was always down.
Now, I'm no clown;
I can appreciate what I have been given,
instead of what I see as lacking.







All I knew as a kid was fear

I plan to be the sexiest man alive,
but I'm not sure how I'm going to do it?
Should I join a gym, and do sit ups,
or write some sexy poems?






It's simple

It's simple be simple in all you do,
and what you do won't confuse you.
Posted by mikel k poet at 11:17 PM 0 comments Links to this post
Do this do that

He ran down the alley,
trying to get away from the streets.
He learned that it was wise to be
careful of who you meet,
on the other side, they might not be high,
but they are still crazy,
and they want you to be like them.

A friend doesn't show up
with half a pipe full of some skank weed,
looking for hits of your kind bud.
You don't have to do push ups,
listening to someone holler rules,
and regulations at you to stay sober.

There are assholes drunk,
and there are assholes sober;
do what's right for you.







This way

She claimed to not have opinions,
but she had an opinion on everything.
She claimed to be non-judgmental,
but she was as judgmental as any person
I'd ever known.
I am trying to learn compassion,
so I shouldn't be talking about her this way.






Trained to

So, you didn't say hello,
and you didn't say goodbye.




I'm not going to be cynical, tonight

We've got Disney World, and aspartame,
and we wonder who's to blame for finding
a trillion dollars in the dirt of Afghanistan.






I was absent for a period

I raised my hand in school,
a good little Catholic boy,
being taught how to get into heaven,
but I found myself, later in life,
headed to hell; hell I was in hell.







Rock n Roll

You practice.
You book a gig.
You play.






Just kidding

I'm rolling in it
neglect and guilt.








On trying to make a tricky first connection

I don't know what you got on your mind,
and I certainly don't know what I'm thinking.






For sale naked

The 6.99 Fancy Mouse Female
runs around and around
the infinite circle that
has been provided for it
in the small aquarium
that it lives in at the pet store.
Sugar Kayne, who has taken me,
to the pet store, so that
I can buy dog food, tells me
of a mouse that she was
trying to coax to safety
in an airport bathroom, once,
when a lady with a broom
came in, and beat the mouse to death.
The pet store mouse gets off the circle,
and starts to fidget like a crack whore.
Wouldn't you if your house
was made of glass, and sat in public?






Getting out of bed

He'd be an old man, now;
as am I, but he didn't make it.
I'd like to be alone
with a girl I know.
She's been out drinking,
and I been thinking how,
it can't be wrong,
and it can't be right.
What am I doing here, anyway?
Time takes time,
and I'll take my time
getting out of bed in the morning.

--K







A Wayside Thought

The trip is inward.
Water is passed about
the dance floor freely,
as people twirl happily.
I have needs, and wants,
but the music satisfies me
right now.






He ain't telling you the truth

He calls you, "Mister,"
but you know that the times
are twisted.








Realization

I'm much happier
sitting in front
of my computer screen,
than I am
out trying
to be a rock n roll
poet superstar.




She'll never quit

She'll never quit.
Her mother never quit.
Her grandmother probably
didn't quit, either.









Safety

You're invincible, baby,
you put up a fence
around your neighbor's house.







I'm a Gemini what's your sign?

YOU missed yet another opportunity
to meet ME! I don't know how you do it,
let such opportunity slip away,
time after time.





High flying

The designated driver got drunk,
put us all in a funk, but we
didn't know it until the next morning.
We thought that we were in hands
safe and secure, but we could have
been in an accident, or got busted
for sure.







Excitement and a nap have marked this day after my birthday, and father's day. I am so excited, because for the past three days, I have been snapping pictures...pictures of The Wayside Rider's Show on Friday; pictures of The Wailers show on Saturday...and pictures of my B Day/Father's Day bash on Sunday. I needed a nap, because the past three days have worn me out; I am, obviously, not as young as I used to be.








I can't believe that it is Monday morning, already. For the past three days, it is as if I have been on a roller coaster ride of fun, friendship, and great times. It started Friday afternoon, when my friend Danielle Strickland asked via Facebook if I was going to, "The Show?"

I knew what show that she was talking about, though I had not known that they were playing a show: The Wayside Riders were going to be at The Five Spot. I told Danielle via Facebook: "I am needy! I need on The Guest List, and I need a ride!!" She said that she could hook me up with a ride, but that the Guest List was full. And then she thought about it for a minute, and said, "But I can take care of it!"

What a blast the show was. The Riders played three sets. We "partied," from about 10 p.m. until 2 a.m. The dance floor was full of people with smiles on their faces, and love in their hearts. There was much peace, love, and friendship in the room. I thank Danielle for hooking me up. It was a great, great gift that she gave me, a great, great early b day gift that she gave me.

The Wayside Riders are opening for Blackberry Smoke, this Saturday, at The Peachtree Tavern. I have long wanted to see BBS. The Turner Bros. rhythm section of the band Blackberry Smoke are long time friends from the Atlanta music scene of mine. Danielle is hooking me up, again.

Damn, I'm a lucky man!!

(To be cont...I still have Saturday, and Sunday to talk about.
Saturday, I went with Amber, The Good Neighbor to see The Wailer,
at a killer, killer free show in Candler Park, and Sunday was
K 53, my 27th Birthday (again).)
Posted by mikel k poet at 11:36 AM 0 comments Links to this post
FRIDAY, JUNE 18, 2010
I just had a nice afternoon nap; a pre-birthday nap, I could call it. I am receiving a great Birthday Gift, tonight...my friend Danielle is stopping by in her limousine to pick me up and take me to a Wayside Riders show. What an evening this is going to be. I baked a couple of banana breads for The Party on Sunday, and a large part of one is going to Danielle. She loves my banana bread.

I've still got cleaning to do for The Party...the kitchen cabinets, the oven, the kitchen floor, the front door, the porch door, and my bathroom, chiefly. I wasn't in much of a cleaning mood, today, so I am leaving all of this for the last moment.

Some really cool people are coming to my B Day Party. I feel special, and thankful to keep such company.
Posted by mikel k poet at 5:31 PM 0 comments Links to this post
I blow kisses to Morisson to get him to come to me. The next thing that I know, Kobain has jumped up on my lap; he took the kisses to be a signal for him to come get, and give some loving. At first, the cat looks down jealously at the dog. I had started petting Morisson before Kobain arrived. Lucky for Kobain that I have two hands. Soon both of my hands are petting each animal. Kobain starts to lick the hand that is petting Morisson. Animals are amazing.
Posted by mikel k poet at 2:36 PM 0 comments Links to this post
My ace in the hole

You were supposed to give me good loving
but good loving came to be pushin' and shovin'.





The Vreelands (Spanky and The Love Handles...though Beth Vreeland admitted, last night, that no one in the band will admit to being a, "Love Handle," announced that they will host a jam at my Birthday Party this Sunday, June 20.

Singer-songwriter, Art Linton, has, already, committed to doing his unique, and fun 45 minute set of original songs around 3 pm. The Jam will come sometime after Art's set. The music will all occur in The Good Neighbor's half of our house. In my half, I have set up a small amp, and microphone, for others to sing songs, and read poems through, if you so desire.

The Good Neighbor is buying a cooler of beer, but it is my feeling that this may run out, so if you care to imbibe, you would be wise to BYOB. If you have heroin, please leave that at home!

I am going to have hot and not dogs, macaroni salad, and banana bread. Any dish that you could bring to compliment, or enhance, that would be loved.

I have been saying that the party goes from 1 to 6pm, but it will not end until you all go home(within reason, of course!!) Like I said, Art goes on around 3 pm, or so, and The Vreelands may start as late as six with The Jam.

I am very thankful for every one of you who is coming to help celebrate my 27th birthday!! If, somehow, you did not get an invitation, and you would like to come to The Party, please message me for my address.

I expect nothing, but if you desire to give me a B Day Gift, please make it cash, so I can put it towards getting shots for my dogs, Bundy, and Morisson, and my cats, Kobain, and Jaggar.

This is a kid friendly event: my grandson, Elliot, is supposed to come. There will be four dogs at this event, two of them Great Danes, Henry and Anna, and my Bundy, and Morisson, so I request that you do not bring your dog.

Thanks! Peace, and Love
Mikel K
Turning 27 Again!



Patients with diabetes have too much sugar in their blood. Recent studies have found that controlling blood sugar helps prevent serious problems that can be caused by diabetes. These can include problems with the eyes, kidneys and nerves, which can lead to blindness, dialysis, or amputation. Endocrinologists treat diabetes with diet and medications, including insulin. They also work closely with patients to control blood sugar and monitor them so they can prevent health problems.

http://www.hormone.org/public/endocrinologist.cfm

I have to keep all of the above in mind. I do not want to lose a toe, or toes. I do not want to lose a foot, or leg, and, as far as I can tell, it is still within my power to do what I need to do to keep all my body parts.



The flies are stupid. They hang around the kitchen when nothing is going on in there, when I am not cooking, or, otherwise, preparing a meal. What a bunch of dumb turds; I will surely be victorious in my battle with them.

Now, I need to focus on those little bastards, the cockroaches, that sneak about some in the daytime, but who really like to strut their stuff at night, when I am asleep. I have caught them doing their little satanic dance a couple of times when I had to cop a piss in the middle of the night. It's bad enough that you have to pay rent, but then you, also, sometimes have to deal with pests. And I'm not talking about a one night stand that didn't work out. I gave those up years ago.

Dust, and animal hair have become my enemies, along with cockroaches, and flies. In order to get ready for my birthday bash, this Sunday, I have been doing a summer cleaning, which probably would have been made easier if I had bothered to do a Spring cleaner. We all know that hindsight is useless, though, and so are these two vacuum cleaners that I am in possession of for getting the heavy amounts of dog and cat hair up that pollute this carpet that I walk on.


'Much happiness I wish for you poet man. You're a wondrous writer."
--Foolish Monkey, Salon.com


When I look in the mirror, I only see me

I dated you, but you didn't date me,
I was just your "friend," someone
who should have been a healing mechanism
while you got over him,
but I wasn't, because your needs
were less important than mine.








We are somewhat trapped inside ourselves

We are all tied up in our little worlds;
you are tied up in your little world,
and I am tied up in my little world,
but, to each of us, our worlds don't seem little.







Clip clip

A good friend of mine
was clipping my toenails, yesterday,
as only a very good friend would do,
and she notice sores on the bottom
of my feet, which is not good,
as I am a diabetic,
so she said that you need to see
and endocrinologist.
It is funny, how as you age in life,
you have to go see all these people
who you have never heard of before,
and whose name you can't even pronounce.
Nobody offers, if you don't ask.






Even friends will let you do the task
for free.






I see Marge on the telephone

I keep singing a line
from a friend's song
over and over,
and I just realized
that that line is
as good a line
as any line that has
ever been sang,
but most people
will never hear it
because it probably
won't get played
on the radio.
There is something wrong
about this, but
instead of bitching
about it
I am going to think
how lucky I am
to be able
to listen to it.






Hugs

She never hugs me.
I mean she NEVER hugs me.
I have known her for twenty five years
and she has never hugged me.
She says that she never hugs anyone,
that she hates to hug,
and then she shudders
as if some painful childhood memory
has just occurred to her.
I was never a hugger myself,
and then I got sober,
and sober people hug a lot,
so I started hugging a lot,
but, still, this didn't phase her,
still she was having no part
in hugging.
Yesterday, we hung out.
She said that I was good for her.
She fights demons,
the same demons that I used to fight,
and I try to teach her
what I have learned about fighting
the demons.
She was more receptive, yesterday,
to learning about how to fight the demons,
than she has ever been.
We had a great day,
and at the end of it,
she hugged me.






When I look in the mirror, I only see me

I dated you, but you didn't date me,
I was just your "friend," someone
who should have been a healing mechanism
while you got over him,
but I wasn't, because your needs
were less important than mine.






We are somewhat trapped inside ourselves

We are all tied up in our little worlds;
you are tied up in your little world,
and I am tied up in my little world,
but, to each of us, our worlds don't seem little.




So, I thought that I had solved my laptop issues by hooking up a new cord to the puter, but now the computer is doing the same thing that it did with the old cord. I shut it down, yesterday, for the day, as I was gone, and now a box on the puter keeps appearing telling me to change my battery or to switch to outlet power, and then the computer immediately shuts off, so it appears to not be getting juice from my chord, again...It must be something with the puter, as this is the second cord that I have used, recently.

Any ideas?
Thanks,
Mikel



I am blessed to have this little memory pad, so I am not completely shut down in my writing, and FB pursuits, but I am greatly limited by not having the larger computer to write, and think, onto. Such is life, though, and it is not as if I have cancer, or aids.

I spent the day, yesterday, with my wonderful friend, Michelle Kellye, her too cool as hell kids, and her smart, and fun dog, Shadow. Michelle is blessed to have a pool at the house that she is losing because she lost her job, and we spent about an hour, yesterday, by that pool getting just the right amount of sun.

I am fair skinned, and burn easily, so I really watch how much sun I get. Also, I heed the warnings about skin cancer from too much exposure to the sun. I didn't fight the long, and hard, battle to quit smoking, to let another form of cancer get me.

Fred, the fly, has gotten really cocky. He is spending a lot of time on my desk, while I am spending time there. He likes to lay down on my fluorescent light, even though it is, mostly, not turned on. Most of Fred's buddies seem to have disappeared, though none of them has shown up on the fly strip that I bought severaldays ago.

You shouldn't think about how many times you got dumped, you should thing about how many times you were held onto, not about how many times you were rejected, but about how many times that you have been loved.

Fred's days are numbered; trust me!

You shouldn't think about how many times you got dumped, you should thing about how many times you were held onto, not about how many times you were rejected, but about how many times that you have been loved.

Fred's friends are back, and none of them are stopping by, and sticking to, the fly strip. They are hovering above me, as I fix food in the kitchen, waiting for their chance to land on whatever I am about to eat.

How cruel, and disgusting, of these shit sitting on fiends; to try to land on something that I am about to eat. I haven't seen Fred, so far today, but I feel that he is somehow behind this new gathering of his brethren above my kitchen.

Someone told me to take the battery out of my computer, and see if it will, then, work with cord power. This is a very good suggestion, but there is just one problem: I can't get the batter out of the computer. Whoever designed the battery mechanism the way that it is designed, should be shout. My guess is that they make it hard for you to get out, so that you will bring it in to an "authorized" shop where you will get fucked in the ass, financially. I have set the laptop down, and will try, again, later to get the battery out. Sometimes, a fresh perspective on things is an asset.

I'm making an appointment with an endocrinologist. I don't know what one does, but I do know that it is a good doctor for a diabetic to check in with. I have an open sore on the bottom of my foot, and that is not a good thing. I am going to suspend going to the pool until I talk to the doctor about my foot. That is the foot report for today.


My computer is saying change battery, or hook up ac power, when ac power is hooked up; and all I did to the computer was to turn it off so that it could cool down. What a slap in the face for being nice to the machine.





I think that when some chicks blow you off, especially Southern gals, that they use words like darling, and sugar when they are rejecting you.

"No, Sugar, I won't be able to go out with you, but it is not because you don't have a job."

"Why, Darling, I would love to come over for dinner, but I have my child this weekend."

Coating the rejection with Sugar, or Darling somehow makes it seem as if getting blown off isn't really all that bad a thing. But it is.

Fred just landed on a plate of mixed berries, covered with generic whipped topping that I was fixing for myself in the kitchen; the nerve of the bastard. I'm surprised that he didn't just lie down in the white whipped cream like material, and roll around, before he flew off.

I could tell by the sly look in his once French eyes that he knew that landing on my desert plate would piss me off an extra amount. It was the first time ever, as an adult, that I had bought the whipped topping for myself.

As kids, we had it often, but as an overweight, diabetic, adult, it's not the type of thing that I normally grab from the grocery freezer for myself. The concoction is as good as it was when I was a kid, though. Fred did not trespass onto my plate while I was eating. He knows better. You don't mess with a man's woman, and you don't mess with his dessert, especially if he is having whipped topping for the first time as an adult.

Is it ruder to use a screwdriver or you fingers, to get the last couple of bites of food up off of your plate, and into your mouth? Those were the choices that I just had sitting here at my table. Of course, if you were sitting here with me, I would have made a different choice, a wiser, more polite choice, but, really, when it is just me, and Fred, and his friends, sitting here, does it matter how I get the last few bites of berries, and whipped topping into my mouth?

I realized today, as I was cleaning around it, getting ready for the big birthday bash, on Sunday that I had not cleaned the filter to my air conditioner in forever. No wonder I had been wondering to myself why it was so hot on that half of the house.
There was more dust in that filter than there ever had been. This had been the longest that I had ever gone without cleaning it. Somebody should slap me silly. But remember, I am a trained assassin.

My fan was covered in crud also, the fan that sits by my desk and blows supposedly cold air from the other air conditioner onto me. The other air conditioner? Oh my gosh, I have not changed its filter in centuries, either. I must like to stew in the heat, when I don not have to. My father was correct when he said that I didn't have much gumption. I'm glad that we don't live in a society where stupidity is forced to walk the planks. Where would that put most of our politicians?

Coming into day two of having hung it in the hallway, the fly strip has caught no flies. There do appear to be less flies in the household, however. Maybe Fred put the word out, and his brethren have split, back to the outside shit.



Morisson, and Bundy have reversed bowls tonight.


Fred just landed on the handle of the yellow fly swatter. He is taunting me. He is saying, "You are a wimp. You can't catch me." He then landed on my sponge; my sponge the thing that I clean all my dishes with. If I thought that it would do any good, I might buy a gun. I am really pissed off. Fred has got to go.

I used to say that sports were the opiate of the people, that "they" wanted you to turn onto sports, so that you would not tune into what is really going on in the world, like they did in the old days with lion feedings in the coliseums. Recently, I got hooked on this 2010 Lakers Celtic NBA Championship.

I am listening to it on the radio right now, because I got rid of my cable so that I wouldn't watch TV. Anyway, I realized that I am not paying much attention to what is going on in the Gulf of Mexico with the BP oil spill, and to what is going on with this "surprise" discovery of a trillion dollars worth of minerals in Afghanistan.



Slow slow death

This job is going to kill me,
and so is the look that Mary is going to give me,
if I don't bring this paycheck home.






I just saw a fly fly right past the fly strip. He was laughing. He was pointing at the fly strip, and asking me if I though that he was so stupid as to fly into such an obvious trap.

I just scowled at him, proceeded to make the cup of coffee that I had been working on before the fly's rude interruption, and wondered to myself if I should make a batch of chocolate chip cookies.

I had bought no chocolate bars at the grocery store, last night, when I was doing one of my near bi-weekly stops to shop, a true test of good will over bad, but I did not know that I could overcome the chocolate urge, this afternoon.

I had the chocolate chips. I had the flower. I had the sugar, and the baking powder. The only thing that might stop me was that I was not sure if I wanted to heat my oven up to 400 degrees, with the air conditioners working so hard in this 93 degree weather.

If you want a cd to make you dance in the kitchen while you are cooking chocolate chip cookies in the air conditioning on a hot summer day, I suggest that you get you a copy of, Juice," by The Grapes.

I'm a stiff white boy with very limited dance moves until I've had that third, or fourth, gin and tonic. I quit drinking anything 18 years ago, but, "Juice," by The Grapes gets me moving on my kitchen floor, hands covered in flour, like I was John Travolta dancing in the day.

Dog, and cat hair, infests this place. I am surprised that I have not been degenerated into a totally sneezing being. I have two vacuum cleaners, that people were nice enough to give me, but neither of them seems to have the informational strength to do what needs to be done on this carpet. My shop vac works, but you can't vacuum the whole relatively large carpet with the certainly small area gathering dirt shop vac. I wouldn't be so worried about it, but I have folks coming over the house on Sunday for my birthday. I don't want them to see the filth that I usually live under. I can't make that kind of impression on them; I just can't.

I'm not really looking forward to going to the pool, today, and taking a swim. It's not that I am a lazy bastard, who mostly shuns exercise, in favor of sitting in front of a computer screen, and cranking out great works of literature, it is that the pool water was extremely uncomfortable, and not enjoyable, because it was so hot. I just took a look at a ten day weather forecast. It says that along with a lot of rain, that the temperature is going to be 90 or above for the next ten days. I thought that, maybe, if it was going to be cooler, soon, I could skip doing my laps today, in favor of cooler water. That is not the case, though, so I am shutting the laptop down, for now.

I'm getting to know my flies by name. Ralph is particularly pesky when I bake. He tells me that in his immediate past life he owned a bakery in France. That was all he got to say to me today, as I pulled out my trusty yellow fly swatter, and tried to kill him. As I just missed him, I heard hideous laughter coming from Ralph's poop licking mouth. Until you kill them, these flies think that this whole thing of them invading my apartment is just a game. They could just as easily be outside, eating dog poop for their meals, but some flies, such as Ralph, take delight in irritating humans, and in avoiding human attempts to kill them.

When the going gets weird, baby...






The real deal, please

You don't share you, you share
what you think they want in you,
and so what we get is
a bunch of namby pamby,
when we could be getting the real deal.


Like she used to

I have a child,
but I'm never around,
because the child's mother
is always bringing me down.

"Work more, drink less,
if you expect me
to get undressed
for the likes of you,"
she says as we go to bed,

so I lay with other gals, instead,
gals that treat me like she used to.



Solace

Stare at nowhere.
Feel empty.





I'm trying to have compassion, man

You've made the eviction,
now hold up the for rent sign.
You've foreclosed on them,
now you can sell the house.
The Landlord isn't always evil,
sometimes it's the nature of the game.





Show compassion for all

I'm a sinner, had my dinner,
while another man starved.




I bought a package of the fly strips, last evening. The yellow package says, "No baiting. No poisons. No vapors. No mess." Well, guess what: after a whole night of the strip hanging on the entrance to my hallway, it has caught "No flies."

It did catch my hair in it, last night, as I was going to bed. I'm glad that, at that point, there were no dead flies in the strip, to mingle with my long brown locks, but I would have liked to seen a bunch of them there, this morning.

I'm having a birthday party for me, this Sunday. I will be 53; shhhhh, don't tell anybody. Actually, the party is being thrown for me by Amber, my next door neighbor, The Good Neighbor.

We are going to have cake, and ice cream, and hot dogs, and not dogs, and banana bread. I sent invites out via the FB event mechanism. If you did not get one and you want one, please let me know. If you can't make it, and you would like to send me a Birthday card, please do. Please send it to: Mikel K, 858 Vedado Way #2, Atlanta, Ga. 30308. If you would like to include a BD gift in it, please make it cash, or a money order, towards getting shots for my dogs, and cats. I hope that it is not impolite to ask in this manner. God bless you.

It is 9:55 a.m. and I have, already, had my first cup of coffee, and I am, immediately, headed back to the pot for that second cup. The turtles, and cats, have been fed; the dogs have been let out, but I need to feed them. The little box at the bottom of my computer says that it is 85 degrees. I wonder if it is going to hit 93 like it did, yesterday?


I love half and half in my coffee, but for the last couple of weeks I have been using two percent milk. I would assume that this should help me lose a pound, or two. It is certainly more cost effective on the wallet. I bought a one quart container of my favorite brand of half and half, yesterday. I also bought a higher grade container of coffee. Both the coffee, and the half and half are going to be for special occasions, like once a day, for my afternoon cup of coffee.

Dave Sloan says that discipline is a good thing. I, now, feel highly disciplined in my coffee usage. Praise the Lord!

The blank page is going to stay blank

I want to write several more poems, tonight,
but I don't think that it is going to happen.




Bars at night

Someone just reminded me to have ice cream
at my birthday party this Sunday with the cake.
They told me that they probably couldn't
make the party because they were going to be playing
music at this restaurant.
I had not thought about that restaurant in years.
At night, it becomes a bar, or it used to,
and I got thrown out of that bar several times
back when I was drinking.
One night, I did something really stupid,
as I was being kicked out, that I will not repeat here.
Just trust me that I am thankful that I am not longer drinking,
and no longer getting kicked out of restaurants
that become bars at night.


Like hand in glove

Slowly, I slip back to old habits,
like eating bread,
and hanging fly strips about the abode.
I love bread, but had weaned myself from it,
planning to have a stomach like Johnny Depp, or Lance Armstrong.
You can only be you, and to be honest,
on the internet dating service questionnaires,
I have to check the box that says, "A few extra pounds."
The fly strips are very nasty when they are full.
One of the last ladies who I was with was quite grossed out
by one that I had hanging in an old house of mine.
You can't please everyone.
Full fly strips don't bother me; they mean that the nasty
little boogers are being eradicated in my space,
and few extra pounds won't kill me; not any time soon, anyway,
and if a gal is looking to date Johnny Depp, or Lance Armstrong,
then she is certainly barking up the wrong tree by barking at me.

A complete fabrication

My girlfriend just ran out the door
screaming that I was Satan,
she caught me fascinating with myself,
said that The Good Lord wanted me
to save myself for her,
oh what a girl.



I love the ads that say, "EVERYTHING is half off, EXCEPT FOR..." It seems that the word, EVERYTHING, should not be used, if you are going to qualify it with the two words, EXCEPT FOR. By saying EXCEPT FOR you are telling those being exposed to your ad, that it is NOT EVERYTHING that is fifty percent off, so why say in your initial sentence that it is; because you think that people are stupid, and that you can manipulate them out of their money with slick, but deceptive advertising?


I'm going to have to move out of my home because flies have taken over. One fly has the audacity to land on my coffee cup. Can you imagine; the little stinker goes from dog shit on the grass, outside, to my coffee cup, and I am expected to sip beverage from the cup. It's not going to happen. That cup is headed for the dishwasher. I hate the appearance of them, but I am going to have to buy some of those ugly, ugly fly strips that are so effective in wiping out a fly population. This is my second summer in this abode, and the first where flies have been a problem. What the F?

If reincarnation is a truth, and I come back as a fly, will someone please swat me as soon after I spend time in some animal shit as possible. I am overrun in my very small apartment by these cruel, and speedy, little bastards, and in my kitchen especially. I hate these effin mudders, I really do.

I am having a simple lunch today. I micro-waved some celery soup, and I am adding saltine crackers into the soup. The crackers are the star of this meal. It is a bit hot in here, today, as I just turned on my second window air conditioning unit, and I don't want to fire up the gas oven.

I try to swim laps five days a week at the local park pool. Today, for the first time ever, in my two summers of swimming in this pool, the water was hot. It was effin' hot; not much fun to swim in. I swam as many laps as I could in it, and then headed for the sidelines. The temperature today is 93 degrees, which is, probably, as hot as we have had it, here in Atlanta, in awhile. I hope that the water somehow becomes cooler sooner. It is much more rewarding to swim in a cool pool.

I just popped a zit on my shoulder. I don't know what sent my hand up there to feel that very small zit out. Maybe zits call out to the subconscious to be squeezed when they need to be squeezed. When I was in high school I had a fairly bad problem with zits. My zits were enough of a problem that my parents sent me a dermatologist to look into the problem, and they never sent me to any doctor, if at all possible, because they were cheap.

Once, in Junior High School, I broke my collar bone, wrestling with this other kid, and my parents did not take me to the doctor for about two weeks. They were trying to save on the bill, while I suffered like hell. I've really had it bad in my time, at times, can't you tell?!


The little Weather Channel box on the bottom of my computer says that it is 92 degrees outside, right now. I just came in from letting the dogs out, and watering the garden, and, while outside, I was remarking to myself about how much cooler it felt today than yesterday. Well, yesterday, the little box at the bottom of my computer never went higher than 91 degrees. Funny how that is working, that it feels cooler today than yesterday, but it isn't.

Henry and Bundy are going at it on my floor. They are not going at it as intensely as they used to; I think because they know that I will start hollering at them, if they do. I can put up with so much dog play in my house, but when it gets too intense, I have to put a stop to it.

It is important to me, for some reason, that my dogs, and cats, eat out of their own bowl. I do not like it when Bundy slips over to Morisson's bowl, and starts chowing down, nor do I like it when Kobain steps up to Jaggar's bowl, and starts to eat the cat snacks that I have just put in that bowl, leaving Jaggar to go over to Kobain's bowl in order to have a snack.

I guess that it does not matter to the animals which bowl that they eat out of. I guess that a bowl is a bowl to them. I am not sure why I am so concerned about this, other than I do not want one animal eating all the other animal's food.

I truly suspect that Bundy might eat all of his food, first, and then wander over to Morisson's bowl, and eat all of Mo's food, and I truly suspect that Kobain might do the same thing to Jaggar.

Morisson, and Jaggar are a bit submissive. Bundy, and Kobain, are a bit dominant, but since I am the Alpha male leader of the pack, I supervise things,and allow none of this stealing of food to occur. (Bundy and Kobain are smirking at this.)

Friends come in a variety of shapes, sizes, colors, and types. I have many friends, online, who I have never met, and, even though, I have never met them, I feel very close to many of them. I have friends who disappear for years, and then suddenly come back in my life, and we hang out like there have not been years between the times that we have hung out. I have friendships that have grown very slowly, and I have friendships that have grown very fast. I can never tell which friendships will last, and which ones will fizzle with time, and I have no earthly idea, for the most part, why the ones that fizzled, fizzled. I love having friendships; be my friend, won't you?


I'm tight on milk, this morning, so I am actually drinking a beverage that nearer resembles coffee, instead of having milk, and sugar, with a little coffee added. The turtles have fresh water. It is always fun to watch them cavort about their tank when their water has just been changed; you can see things so clearly in the aquarium, and the turtles seem to be so much happier when their water is fresh and clean.

My neighbor, Carlos, who is quite the gardener, pulled up several clumps of these red flowers that he says will attract butterflies, and gave them to me, yesterday evening. I immediately planted them, and can't wait for the butterflies to arrive.

I am trying to not be sickened to my stomach by this BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. I figure that there are things that I have control of, and things that I don't have control of, and this oil spill is something that I don't have control of, so why sicken myself over it like so many of my friends, and acquaintances are?

The Good Nieghbor, and I, went to The Highlander, a bar that is right down the street from where we live, to watch the fifth game of the NBA Championships. Normally, I like to bellyache about how sports are the opiate of the people, keeping the mass of man, and woman, diverted from what is really going on, like feeding people to the lions did in times past Roman, but I accidentally got sucked into this series while hanging out with Art Linton and Kyle Caldwell, last week.

Kyle is truly opiated, was all about yelling and screaming at the television that was showing the game at Steinbeck's, the bar/restaurant where we were hanging out in Oakhurst, and so was everybody else assembled that day.

When I was a kid, growing up in Hartford, Connecticut, The Celtics were my team. Players such as Bill Russell, and John Havlicek excited me, as The Celtics won championship after championship. The Celtics will be wearing their green, on the road, clothing that I like so much better than their white, playing at home, uniforms as the series head back to Los Angeles with The Celtics leading the series 3-2. I am, now, happily opiated myself, and looking forward to seeing The Celtics win their 18th Championship.

Hanging at The Highlander was a truly great experience. The bartender, who was covered in tattoos, and wore a white wife beater T-shirt, with The Highlander logo emblazoned on it, was decent enough to change the tv that was in front of us to the game. A shaved head, multi large spike wearing young lady, groaned a bit to learn that the game was now on in front of her. I told her that I fully understood, that sports were an instrument of big brother to keep the masses happily where they were at.

Despite my understanding of her situation, the young lady still took her drink, and moved down to the other tv that was seated behind the bar. You can't always get what you want.

What was really cool about this bartender, is that he did not bat a lash, did not let out a moan, or a groan, when I ordered coffee with cream and sugar; and he actually asked me, several times, if I wanted a refill. I have come to find that, often, bartenders look upon making, and serving, coffee as a pain in their ass. I told the bartender, with a smile, that I hadn't had a drink in eighteen years, and didn't want to start now, as I was tired of getting locked up. He smiled a smile of recognition, which was heart warming. He also smiled when we tipped him!

K Sidenote: I have flies in this effin apartment, at least five of them. This is the first time, in two years that I have lived here, where these little bastards have gotten in my front door. Partnered with the little German cockroaches that are running about the space, it is enough to drive a grown man crazy with piss-off-idness.

I don't want to pay for an exterminator, don't want to put the chemicals into the planet, but I may have to just to have piece of mind. I'm looking at do it yourself methods, but the process is slow. I want to get rid of the bugs, but I get tied into chats on Facebook, and lose track of time. Is there a 12 step program for Facebook addiction?

The little box on my computer says that it is 76 degrees at 6:24 a.m. I wonder what type of day we are in for heat wise? I am so glad to be alive. I hope that your day is beautiful. God Bless us all.

There is no doubt

There is no doubt
I heard the criminal sound.
Lock all the doors,
pull drapes over all the windows.
Let the dogs out,
get the guns out of the drawers.

I heard the criminal sound.
There must be a criminal around.
I heard the criminal sound.
There must be a criminal bound
for the family heirlooms.

If he touches my wife's wedding ring
I'm going to shoot him in the head;
she leaves it on the bureau
when she is sleeping,
right nest to the bed.

There is no doubt
I heard the criminal sound.
You can call the cops
but if you depend on them
they won't get here on time,
and then this stuff will be his,
that used to be mine.


I heard the criminal sound.
There must be a criminal around.
I heard the criminal sound.
There must be a criminal bound
for the family heirlooms.


The path that I am on

I eat my fish broiled, not fried,
and I even quit rolling tobacco into papers.
I cut back on my beers,
and looky here, I'm eating a salad.
I don't eat steak,
and I've cut way back on the mashed potatoes.
I watch my pasta, and I stay away from other men's wives.
I'm trying to live healthier than I used to.
I'm trying to live longer than I would have
if I'd continued on the path that I was on.

I ain't perfect. Every once in awhile I get drunk,
and I wake up next to Susan, who is married to
my best friend Tim.
I don't like sushi, so I'll eat me some pork, or chicken.
It ain't good for the chicken or the pig,
but, hey, who cares about them.
I go to church on Sunday, I'm good to my children,
but I have a little problem that I need help solving:
I just woke up in bed with Tim.


Circular

I'm just an inch or two away,
but I been working all day,
and I've only gone in circles.
I've gone in circles,
that's the best I can do,
I'm running in circles
because I'm in love with you.


Keep moving on

You got a little hair on your face;
in a fancy place they might not serve you dinner.
You're hair is kind of long; most places won't hire you,
but you don't say that something's wrong;
you just keep doing what your doing,
having faith in The Lord, as you keep on moving on.

Keep on moving on.
Keep on moving on.
Have faith in The Lord;
can't be nothing wrong
if you keep on moving on,
if you keep on having faith in The Lord.

Women keep telling you no.
All you want to do is to sit down,
and have a cup of coffee, talk a little bit.
She don't like the amount of money that you make,
the fact that you ride a bicycle instead of a car.
She don't believe that, one day,
you're going to be a superstar.

Keep on moving on.
Keep on moving on.
Have faith in The Lord;
can't be nothing wrong
if you keep on moving on,
if you keep on having faith in The Lord.

They told you a long time ago
that you could never do what you do now.
I guess you made the impossible come true.
All it took was a little perseverance,
and the ability to tune out those telling you no,
you can't do it, it won't get done,
why don't you settle down, and get a job,
like everyone else.


Keep on moving on.
Keep on moving on.
Have faith in The Lord;
can't be nothing wrong
if you keep on moving on,
if you keep on having faith in The Lord.

They also told you that you would never find love,
and for the longest time you agreed.
There were an awful lot of no's until you found the one
who could look inside you.
Now you've got a family of your own,
and you never tell your kids no.



Keep on moving on.
Keep on moving on.
Have faith in The Lord;
can't be nothing wrong
if you keep on moving on,
if you keep on having faith in The Lord.


I should have been

I've lost my hammer.
I'm losing my mind.
It's no way to live,
I can't pay the bills.
I can't think straight.


Oily water is a necessity

Have you ever been intimate
with a fish; perhaps sushi?




You are the girl in that Bob Dylan song

You ignore beggars,
scared what they have
will rub off on you.
In a restaurant,
nothing is perfect enough
for you.
You are better than most
people you tell yourself.
In the mirror, you smile
sure of your superiority.
I have never met you,
you wouldn't like
the likes of me.


Possibly Never

She's waiting for the shrimp to thaw,
her son to come home,
and her ship to come in.
The shrimp will thaw,
her son will come home from his father's house,
but her ship may never come in.



Ring

The telephone will ring,
and she will look at the band on her finger,
and not answer, the first time he calls.
The telephone will ring,
and she will look at the band on her finger,
and not answer, the second time that he calls.
(To be cont.)


Bi

She is tender,
and she is tough.


Perhaps

I bet,
that she is soft in all the right places,
hard where she needs to be,
and...speaking of hard,
I bet that our love making would be brilliant,
intense,
pleasurable,
it would be all that love making could be,
but fucking would not be our only connection,
we would talk for hours, like we already do
on the phone.





Having breakfast often signals the end of my morning writing session. The blood going to my gut to digest my food is no longer circulating about my brain helping me to create. Sylvester Stallone told me that that was how food affected him, also, back when I spoke to him in 1982. Stallone said that he couldn't get any writing done on a full stomach. I lived in Los Angeles at the time, and running into famous people wasn't as hard there in L.A. as it is here in Atlanta.

Almost the minute that I moved from Los Angeles, though, to Atlanta, in 1983, I ran into, and started hanging out with Ru Paul. Now if you lived in Atlanta, in the early '80's, and you did the club thing, you probably hung out with Ru Paul, as he had this knack for hanging out with just about everybody.

I was a pot dealer for about 20 minutes in my life, and I sold both bags that I had to sell to Ru Paul. Since that time, both Ru, and I, have given up what was a very regular part of our existence, back then: drugs, and alcohol.

Ru was my roommate, briefly, at a hotel in Midtown, The Flex. The little apartment that a young lady by the name of Penny C. and I had rented to live in, had an extra room, and we rented it to Ru, and this young gal by the name of Jennifer.

It was during this time that Ru talked Larry T. into letting me have a show at The Celebrity Club, and I was off to the races, so to speak. Ru, also, gave me my first hit of LSD, which for me, lead to stints in Georgia Regional.

I learned a lot about self-promotion, and about life, from Ru Paul. Isn't it funny that I got my first hit of LSD from a seven foot tall man who wore dresses and high heels, and not from, say, Timothy Leary, Carlos Castanada, or Jim Morrison?

My medium, the one to help me break on through to the other side, was a drag queen; THE drag queen, actually, as it turned out!!


Just think

If you live alone,
you can masturbate,
and shoot heroin,
if you like,
and not disturb anyone.


Packing it all up

She is moving
for the first time in her life
leaving the house that she grew up in
filling boxes.
Planning how to move a couch, a bed,
and the rest of her furniture
is new to her,
but she is figuring it out,
as she goes.
Moving is difficult
whether you are a seasoned veteran at it,
or if you are doing it for the first time.
Two years after my last move,
I still have boxes
scattered about this apartment,
that need to be unpacked.




Before I get too far into my day, I need to change the turtles' water, and clean out their tank. In four days, it will have been three weeks since this has been done. The turtles' water is a bit foggy, and Prynce, and Rue Paul, like it clean; and so do I.

I have started thinking that I would like to live where sea turtles can be found, where I can see dolphins swimming, as I walk along the beach. Scout graduates in two years, and the possibilities for me, when this happens, are endless. For the first time in 25 years, I will not have a kid in school. They will have all flown the coop. I can then fly the coop, too!

It is 7:45 a.m. on a Sunday and the dogs have been fed. I need to feed the cats, and turtles. I am surprised that Kobain is not being militant in his desire to be fed, like he most normally is. I know that he knows that he is going to be fed. He gets fed every morning. I never forget to feed him, and Jaggar, the turtles, and the dogs. I really don't. How could I?







The dog understands for sure

The edge of a sword is sharp,
like my tongue used to be,
and still could be, if i don't take care.

My dog, Bundy, understands
the tone of my voice,
he understands what,
"Bundy, go home," means.
It mean head for the hideouts,
that he has scattered about
the house, and if he is barking,
it means, "Shut the heck up."





Someone just left an Anna poop on our front doorstep. It was nicely positioned on a Canna leaf. I find this very weird.








Peace be with us all

Most of us are looking for peace and love,
many of us look for it in many different ways.
Some take a vow of poverty,
and spend their days in meditation,
and or prayer.
Some seek millions of dollars.
There is a middle road for many of us,
we seek peace in our family,
and or our friends.
Peace to me, may not be peace to you,
but I wish you peace, anyway.









Maybe Z to A

Dogs.
Cats.
Turtles.
Coffee.
Jalapeños.
Sushi.
Love.
Peace.
Friendship.
Not
necessarily
in
that
order.





Write it

I want to write a great poem,
I want to write a really great poem,
but first I must eat some oatmeal,
and then I must take a nap,
and then I must...
That is how it will go
if you do not sit down
and write the poems.
Someone said that ninety nine percent
of doing Yoga is getting on the mat,
so I say that one hundred percent
of writing a poem is writing it.




I'm not perfect,(and I got tears
rolling down my cheek, as I sing this).
I'd like to do everything that I tell you
that we ought to, but I can't
I can only do the best I can.

Love your brother.
Love your sister, I say,
but I am not always filled with love,
myself.

I do the best I can,
but, sometimes, you have to understand,
my brother, and my sister, gets the best of me.








It was very hot, and the man was very rude

Yesterday, I spoke of peace, love, and patience,
and, last night, a man came along giving me a chance
to exhibit all of these characteristics,
but all I felt was hate inside for the man.
I wished that he would not go away.
I wished that he would not make comments
about my friend's skin color,
I wished that he would not call us, "rich folk,"
as he tried to get into our empty wallets.
It is easy to write about peace, love, and patience,
but, often, harder to exhibit them in your life.
Posted by mikel k poet at 9:56 AM 0 comments Links to this post
I lay fried eggs on top of my oatmeal,
and cut the eggs into little pieces
as I eat my oatmeal.









Another new post

They stretch from one end
of your hard drive to the next.
What you created, yesterday,
doesn't matter. It is today
that counts.




Infinitely Alone

The phone never rings,
and when it does,
you don't answer it.





Burn bad thoughts,
like you burn incense.
Posted by mikel k poet at 8:07 PM 0 comments Links to this post
It's best to keep some gates closed

The Jerry Garcia band is singing,
"Shake it, baby; shake it,"
as I should be getting ready
to go to The Doctor's office,
to have this case of diabetes,
that I have, further evaluated.
Some poor little hot dog,
two actually, just died for me,
so that I could have lunch.
I wonder if relapsing
back onto meat is like relapsing
back onto alcohol.
I certainly don't want to find out.
There are times where I want
to try smoking pot, again,
to see if it really has
any medicinal purposes,
if it really can snap me out of
the awful mood that I sometimes
find myself in, because of
the medical situation that
I suffer from.
Someone said, the other day,
that, "Pot really is a gateway drug."
If I tried it, again, and it opened
the gate to drinking, I would be fucked.








Vultures

They call me all the time,
but there is nothing
that they, or I can do.
So I don't answer,
and I mark, "patience"
next to their number
to identify their call,
which is what I need
to deal with the situation.
Have you got our money,
we want quadruple what you owed?









A Grown Man


If you don't really love me, babe
just turn around and walk out that door.
If you don't really love me babe,
don't be hanging your hat here, no more.
If you don't really love me, babe,
just move your stuff on down the road.

If you don't really love me.
If you don't really love me.
I can take it like a man.
If you don't really love me,
if you don't really love me.
Don't mean nothing to me.


It don't really mean nothing to me,
just turn around and walk our that door
if you don't really love me,
don't be hanging your hat here, no more.
I can take it like a man.
I can take it like a man.
A grown man dont't get down on his knees
and cry.
A grown man
A grown man
A grown man
got to take it like a man
if you don't love me
if you don t love me
just turn around and walk out that door
yeah, walk out that door
walk out that door
walk out that door
and shut that door
shut that door
shut that door
I don't want you to see me cry,
no more.





No end in sight

There is no end in sight
to this love that I will give you.
There is no end in sight
to how my heart will feel
when you walk in the door.
There is no end in sight
to how happy that you will make me feel.

What's the deal stranger,
where are you?
What's the deal, stranger,
when are you going to show?
What's the deal stranger,
what's the deal stranger,
what's the deal,
what's the deal?






Opposites don't always attract

You live for love.
They live for the dollar.
Their lust for the dollar,
intrudes heavily on your lust
for love,
but you keep on keeping on.





Recognition

Morisson would live
with my hand on his head,
permanently,
if he could figure out
a way to pull that off.
Bundy,
and Henry,
would bark at the neighbors
24/7,
if I did not holler at them.
The cats like their snacks,
and they meow incessantly,
at certain times during the day;
they pick the times.
The turtles come to the edge
of their aquarium
when I approach it,
which amazes me.
They know who I am.




You do not cause anything

My sanity is precious to me,
so I fight to keep it.
You can affect my sanity,
so I keep you at arm's distance,
if I am thinking correctly,
and understand that you can
unbalance me.
I make the decisions
about how I feel;
you do not cause anything.







Sleep kills

Sleep kills anger.
Sleep kills agitation.
Sleep kills the bad thoughts
that I was having for you.
Sleep makes me happy.
Sleep makes me whole.
Sleep makes me ready
to start drinking coffee, again.
I do not see how people sleep
on the sidewalk.
I'm glad that I have a bed,
aren't you?





THE Revolution may never come, but we can still be kind/pleasant to our brother, and sister, to those in our immediate surroundings, to those we love, and to those who need love.

THE Revolution will come with you holding a door open for someone, when you are in a hurry. The Revolution will come with you not laying your hard hand on the horn in traffic, when someone pisses you off. The Revolution will come when you lend an ear to someone who needs an ear, when you are really feeling like talking, talking, talking, like we all, mostly, do. Everyone has their agenda. Nobody wants to listen to what the other guy, or gal, has to say.

Smile at people. Don't look at people as if they are dollar signs, ready to be had by you so you can increase your own personal stash. The Revolution will not be something that happened in Cuba, with some guy that you think is romantic named, "Che," leading it. The Revolution will not occur in China, or Russia, or Vietnam. It will occur in your heart. It will occur in your mind.

I have given you the seeds in this bit: you get the idea, you are not stupid.

The Revolution can be now, if you want it; it doesn't have to be "someday." I am talking to me, as well as you.

Someday, way sooner than we think, we can start The Revolution.

The Revolution that I speak of is of the mind. Be kind to strangers. Help the man, or the woman down on their luck. Don't do everything for a buck.

Compassion, brother. Comapasssion, sister. Let's start The Revolution NOW!!





Someday/Revolution makes me wish almost wish I had not left Atlanta for Nashville...Have you ever been compared to Jim Morrison? Just a quick thought as I watched a video..you are much more together, and not drugged up-but I see some similar brillance....not trying to Kiss A..--just impressed.

Thanks for your work-please alert you're site if headed to the Nash....."One day"

Take Care-
karen webb
------------------

Thank you for your compliments, Karen, and for liking Mikel K The Movie: a flick by James Truax.

Once, after recording our (The Mikel K Band) "Sober," cd someone said something about The Spoken Word reminding them of Morisson, and once, recently, after I did a bit with Mudcat, and his band, at The Northside Tavern, this guy came up and said, "I hope that you won't be insulted, but I find you a bit like Jim Morisson...he used to rail against the system, too!" so you are not alone in your comparison!!

I would love to do a reading/some readings in Nashville. Do you have any connections/know of any places that would be suitable for me to read at?

If you like, you can buy a copy of The Mikel K Band, "Don't Say Hate," cd, which is me working with some of the greatest musicians on the planet, or a copy of K: The Movie (a 45 minute version by Truax) for ten each plus two s and handling or 15 for both, 3 ship and handle.

It was nice "meeting" you. Let's stay in touch.

Mikel

PS What kind of songs do you write, and how do you like living in Nashvillee?
Charlie Longsdorf, the singer, and bass player from The Grapes lives there, now, too.











Cats on the move

Madonna was my cat.
She was a stubborn cat,
but she came to love me.
My son brought home another cat,
and Madonna hated that cat,
so much so that she stayed out
most of the time.
She stayed out so much,
that she got run over
by a car in the parking lot
of the apartment complex
that we lived in.
Years later, the cat
that Madonna ran away because of,
Pai Mai, ran away himself,
because he was mad
that my son had moved
to a new house.






Funny, sort of, how that can happen

The car got repossessed.
She said that she forgot
to write the checks for it,
several months in a row.
I went from riding, out of
my league, to riding my bike.





What's hers is hers

She tried to make me believe
that the house was "ours,"
but I wasn't stupid. I knew
that the minute that she and I
were through that the house
went back to being hers.









Grab Him By The Tail

Someone ran over a squirrel
about a foot from the foot
of our driveway.

(I told you that they drive fast
down the road in front of our house.)

Love is going to call The Government,
and tell them that we need
speed bumps at this end of the road
like they have at the other end.

I asked Love if she wanted me
to throw the dead squirrel into the woods.
She said, "Yes," and I did so
hands covered in grocery store plastic bags.

"Grab him by the tail," said Love,
which made sense, as I stood there
looking at him

I don't like squirrels stealing our bird seed,
but I don't want to see them get run over by cars,
either.








Kitty Poo runs away for a bit

The cat made its way out of the apartment that it lived in, onto the porch,but could not make it off of the porch into the great outdoors. After several hours, the cat went home.





Equals

He speaks peace, but he is really out for a piece,
He is as immoral a man as I am.









And really no one is being stupid!

Heat, and fatigue make me intolerant.
I can't smile at your stupidity
in ninety degree weather near midnight.
Posted by mikel k poet at 11:41 PM 0 comments Links to this post
I thought that I was going to bed early, and I did lay my head on the pillow around eleven, which is about two hours ahead of my normal bed time, but as soon as I laid my head on the pillow, my eyes became wide awake, and I realized that it was useless trying to go to sleep early, when I was now wide awake.

I snapped my fingers for Morisson to come over to the bed so that I could scratch his head. Bundy tried to horn in on the action by licking my fingers, but I ignored him, and I soon heard him guzzling water from the cat and dog water bowl in the kitchen. Bundy has learned that he does not have to have all of the attention all of the time. He knows that he is loved, and I think that that gives him security.

Kobain, my precious long haired, grey cat, was not secure tonight, at all, though. Inspite of the fact that I scratched him on the head with my right hand, he was jealous that Morisson was getting scratched with my left hand, and he tried to push his head into my left hand, and steal the action from Morisson, the dog.

Kobain has this habit of either jumping on my chest, the minute that I lay down on the bed, either for the night, or for a nap, or pushing his head against the C PAP mask that I wear, at night, to get my attention. Either way, he is demanding that his head get scratched, that his boy get rubbed, and that his tail gets massaged.

When Kobain first joined us, he was pretty much an anti-social cat, so it really amazes me that he has turned into such a lover. You never know what is going to happen in this world.
Posted by mikel k poet at 11:26 PM 0 comments Links to this post
I love everybody

Some people are
a pain
in your ass,
immediately,
and, some people
take awhile to
become
a pain
in your ass.

I thank God
for those
who are not
a pain in the ass.





Some people are a pain
in your ass, immediately,
and, some people take awhile
to become a pain in your ass.

I thank God for those
who are not a pain in the ass.






Poems for Heather


I'm here.
You're there
We are
in
our own
little worlds,
always.

I smile here,
you smile there.

Our smile
stretches
from here
to there.

---------------

Without being specific
without being general;
I will try to
tell you something.

There,
I've said it.
Do you understand?

----------------

I am on my porch
trying to
silence my dog
which is like
trying to get
BP to clean up
after itself.

----------------

It's only a dollar,
but you can buy
a candy bar,
and smile eating it.



K at The Northside Tavern with The Rockaholics and Nathan Nelson (A Review)


Mikel K Poet: My first set, tonight at The Northside Tavern, went way more than well. The crowd got quiet, and most of them listened to, Carol Sucks, People R Defective, Has Anybody Seen Bob Dylan, and To Show Me The Stars.

There was actually a Carol in the audience, which was fun; I bantered a bit with her from the stage.

Linda, wife of the Rockaholics drummer, I don't know his name, was also very supportive of the material.

Carol's boyfriend, or friend who is a boy, bought a Mikel K Band, "Don't Say Hate," cd cuz it has Carol sucks on it.

I wandered table to table in the club trying to sell more cds, and dvds: Mikel K The Movie a flick by James Truax, and though no one wanted to buy, they all said that they dug the poems.

I think that it is amazing, and fantastic that the bands at this hip hip blues cub are asking me to do my Spoken Word Blues, within and around them. Lola, the famous, and fantastic Lola asked me to come to the Monday Night Blues Jam, and do my thang with a killer blues band backing me. I am blessed.

My second set of K Spoken Word Blues, last night, at The Northside Tavern, occurred as after the dynamic Rockaholics set, and as Nathan Nelson, Dave Roth, and Andy Tomko were setting up to play their incredible Mississippi Delta based music.

Nathan hooked me up with a microphone, and I had the whole stage to wander, as the band slowly placed their equipment on it. I often work this way, doing my thing as bands set up, or strike their set; this way I do not add a lot of time to the allotted time that the band or bands have for the evening, and, also, get a set, or two, in myself.

My first set had been done during a break that The Rockaholics took. I thank both band, The Rockaholics, and Nathan Nelso, and his band, for making it possible for me to do my Spoken Word Blues thing, last night at The Northside Tavern.

The crowd was loud for K set 2; VERY LOUD!!

It was almost disconcerting, how loud the crowd was, and I almost wanted to tell the people talking to shut up, but it is my job to get them to shut up,and listen to me, with my spoken words into the microphone; by doing a good job of what I do in spewing poems, and not by whining, or screaming at them.

I started the set with, "Does she miss fucking me?" I did this poem, which I am still a bit on paper with,( meaning that I don't have it memorized yet, and have to read from my notes), for Nathan, because he finds the title so humorous.
The poem did not blow the crowd away like I thought that it might.

Then I went into the Everybody Works At Walmart, I Need A Rich Girl, Someday I Will Start The Revolution medley that I have developed in working with Mudcat.

When I said, "Someday, I will start The Revolution, but I want to get an MFA in Poetry first, can you tell I need one? a lady in the front row screamed out, "YES."

In times past, I would have probably told her to fuck off, but last night I showed a brilliant maturity that I am proud of by directing the next line of the poem, lovingly at her..."Someday, I will start The Revolution, but this girl just walked by...and, man, does she look good!!"The lady smiled, and I had a friend, instead of an enemy.

I often wonder how the band plays on when the audiences is chat, chat, chatting away. Last night, I found out for myself.

Something great came out of the night, though...Lola Gulley, THE LOLA, invited me to come out to The Northside Tavern Monday Night Blues Jam, hosted By Lola, this Monday. What a great invite that will be. What a great opportunity. This Monday,June 28, I will be doing my Spoken Word Blues Thing, at one of the greatest blues clubs in the country, with a kick ass band behind me, and Lola on keyboards.

I have to, again, thank Mudcat for getting all this started for me, by inviting my out to his Chicken Raid, getting me out of a nearly 20 year shell that I had built up around me regarding doing things live, and connecting me to all these great people.

Life is great!

PS Part of my 20 year "retirement" from being a "Rock Poet," was due to the fact that I found it more important, and fun, to raise my kids than to be out there trying to be a Huge Superstar. Like I say in my poem, "Someday, I will start The Revolution, but for now there are Nintendo games to rent, and cereal to buy!"

Have a safe, blessed and fun day!

--K







A FUNNY THING: My legs were sore, so I did downward facing dog right there in the club, and this guy came up to me, and said, "My girlfriend wants to get a picture of you doing Yoga!!"

Kinky, baby, kinky!!







You can always warm the coffee up

The coffee is getting cold,
because the words are hot;
burning onto the page, from my brain.
You can always put the coffee in the microwave,
just don't let those words escape you.







Certain things are obvious

I know that I am not going to get
a free laptop for filling out
the survey that someone just sent me.
I know that I am not going to
win the lottery,
and I know that I am not going to
be able to go swimming
in The Gulf of Mexico, anytime soon.






Was there anything that I could have done?

The sky was blue, so were you,
and I didn't know what to do.
I'd take any opportunity
to make you feel better,
lay my hands on you,
write a letter to my congressman.
I seen you crying in the bedroom,
when you thought you was alone.
I didn't have the heart to ask you
what was wrong.
I seen tears in your eyes in the kitchen,
when you was cooking for the kids;
all I could do was put my head down,
and mind my own business.
and, now that you have said goodbye,
to this world, I feel like there was more
that I could have done.






Do you know what I mean?

We can't eat our strawberries,
they are covered in pesticides.
We can't eat our tuna,
they are soaked with mercury.
We shouldn't drink our diet beverages,
aspartame is a poison.
We can't swim in our gulf.
Our kids have got to go to war,
to get a free education.
The list goes on, and on.
Who are these men and women,
who would do such things to us,
and our planet?
Can't we call them out, dammit,
and make them accountable?
They sip on water that is pure.
They swim in rivers that are clean.
They take a dip in oceans pristine.
Do you know what I mean?
Posted by mikel k poet at 9:55 AM 0 comments Links to this post
Ashes to ashes

Each of us is given a bag of rules.
Many of the rules were made by people,
who think that we are fools.
As John Lennon said, "they" live up on the hill,
and if we wish to be like them,
we must learn to, "Smile as we kill."

(The first line to this bit came to me
while listening to a Wayside Riders live at
Smith's Olde Bar on July 10, 2004.)

--------------------
I'm not perfect,(and I got tears
rolling down my cheek, as I sing this).


Unclothed and stupid

Naked as I was when I came into this world,
that's nothing to how naked I feel
now that you've turned me down.






Be careful where you put it in

I went to the whorehouse,
but it didn't feel quite right
to put my money in where love
should have been.





What's her name?

She disappeared as fast as she came,
didn't make much difference to me,
I always think of her as what's her name.

I haven't seen what's her name
since she started reading the bible.
I haven't seen what's her name
since she started dating that fellow
what's his name.
I haven't seen what's her name
since the writing on the wall
became clear to read.

She disappeared as fast as she came,
said that we'd be friends forever,
which was the first warning sign
that she would soon become what's her name.









One and not two

I just broke the speed of sound,
but I'm sad, and lonely.
I just went to the moon, and back,
but I feel like I'm going to have
a heart attack.
I just went around the world
in an air balloon, but I feel like a buffoon,
because I am one, and not two.







I'm just an old piece of furniture.
I'm a dog that you take your time letting in.







I hate the word, "performer." It sounds like you are some chick strung out on heroin doing it with donkeys in Cuba for a buck.





Morisson just cooperated fantastically in taking a bath; he is now fresh, and clean, and smells like some scented shampoo. Bundy is hiding under my desk, refusing to come out, and be bathed.

Morisson cooperates while he is being given a bath. He lets you run the water over him. He lets you rub the soap into his coat. He lets you rinse the shampoo off of him. Bundy fights you. He tries not to get in the bathtub. He tries to not let you run water over him. He tries to not let you apply shampoo, and rinse it off.
Posted by mikel k poet at 4:30 PM 0 comments Links to this post
He claims to have higher connections,
in heaven, and her on earth.







What life had to offer me.

I saw my son get carried away
on another man's shoulders.
I stood next to my wife
while she stood with her hand raised,
and lied to the judge about me.
I moved from my house to a trailer.
I bought a gun, and contemplated
what life had to offer me.

She'd started sleeping with her new husband,
while she was married to me,
I'd had to take a job to support the family
off in Tennessee.
Money wasn't enough for her;
not my money anyway.
She took every penny she could get, though,
and with the new guy in the fold
she was a two paycheck family.

I cleaned my gun every night,
trying to figure out what would be right,
and what would be wrong.
Then I heard this guy singing in a country song.
He said that, "Don't no body mess with my kids,
don't nobody mess with country."

I went to where the guy was employed;
I unloaded all my bullets in his head,
now I'm at the penitentiary
where everybody respects me.








We're all just looking for a paycheck

We're all just looking for a paycheck,
ain't got no self-respect,
we'll do anything for a buck,
say it's for the love of family,
while our country declines,
we should be going out of our minds,
but as long as we gots our money
everything is fine.

I'm a working, man will brag,
holding a nickel bag.
I'm a working, a man will say
pulling his lips away from a bottle of bourbon;
neither of them did a damn thing
"working" all day.







You might be some seaweed

I don't need any of you.
I don't need even one of you.
I'm an island,
and you can't even be my sand.








How it is(maybe)

I blew up your car
cuz I couldn't stand to lose her.
How are you at hitchhiking?
It just occurred to me,
that she might want something,
instead of having something for me to give.
So, I'll say my, "Ha ha's,"
and you'll say your, "Hail Mary's."
We'll both put less in the gas tank,
to keep eating the same meals.









You're swimming up a deep and stormy river

You came late to the party,
and now you want to piss on my parade,
you' like to fuck her,
but it's me that's got it made.

I get to hold her,
I get to tuck her in,
so without me even punching you, Mister,
you are going to take it on the chin.

Go back to The Gene Pool, pal,
hell, who even let you in?








No law dictating

They never came to see me
they came to see them,
and now that they are grown
they don't see me at all.
I was just an imposition,
something that even
their Christ wouldn't have welcomed.







From a quick read of the first two sentences of his 2006 journals, I would have to say that I bet that he is a far better song writer than a journalists. His songs demonstrate a brevity in the use of words, that his journals probably don't. I mean I hate to make a quick judgment, but there is that old journalistic rule running through my veins about grabbing them in the first sentence; I think that it is called the inverted penguin, or something...I m not sure, I was doing a good amount of Lysergic acid diethylamide the first time out in Journo Skook, sitting in the back row, thinking that I was Hunter Thompson, thinking that I knew it all.






He was ruled by green just like you

He claimed to be different,
but he never turned the money down.







I'm gone now

If you ever feel lonesome
you can call out my name
but it won't be the same, darling,
as when I could have rolled over and held you.
Posted by mikel k poet at 1:54 PM 0 comments Links to this post
We're all just looking for a paycheck

We're all just looking for a paycheck,
ain't got no self-respect,
we'll do anything for a buck,
say it's for the love of family,
while our country declines,
we should be going out of our minds,
but as long as we gots our money
everything is fine.

I'm a working, man will brag,
holding a nickel bag.
I'm a working, a man will say
pulling his lips away from a bottle of bourbon;
neither of them did a damn thing
"working" all day.







Sunday Thought

I don't need messages from men,
who have assigned themselves
as my messenger.








Seemingly

He told the ladies that he wanted to help them dream,
but when he got them naked it wasn't dreams that seemed important.
Posted by mikel k poet at 11:41 AM 0 comments Links to this post





Zero

We were never lovers and we will never be
anything more than strangers.






Where it all might lead

He had an eye for the ladies.
He made many babies that he couldn't afford.
As the kids grew older, he got deeper into the bottle.
The kids's mothers grew more bitter.

He fancied himself the Mr. Bo-jangles type,
but the reality wasn't glamorous like the song.
His kids didn't know no different,
so to them nothing was wrong.

As he got older his looks got shot out.
The ladies didn't flock to him no more.
He wound up in bed only with his bottle.








Oh brother

Drag me into the jail cell, kicking and screaming.
Wake me up, in the morning, covered in blood,
and puke; feed me a green bologna sandwich.
Stand me in line with other men who are criminals,
one thing we got in common is that we are all waiting
to see the judge.

How did I get here?
How the hell did I get here?
Everybody said that I had so much potential.
One drink lead to another,
one drink was never enough, oh brother.

(If you sing these words to the music in Paradise City,
by Guns n Roses, you will get the feeling that I wrote it in).









Call it fun

I remember nights that ended when the sun began
to signal that it was getting close to noon.
I remember parties that ended with me alone in a room
just short of "partying" with a needle, and a spoon.
I remember looking up at the judge, again,
waiting to be told what I done.
And I called it fun.

I remember being homeless in L.A.
I'd spent my rent money on cocaine.
I remember being kicked out of bar after bar,
"don't let him in, that's what's his name."
I look down at my hand and see the pinky
that is still broken.
Those were certainly the daze,
and I called it fun.

I remember when my priorities changed,
when beer became more important than school.
I remember when I went from a clear thinker,
to a young man "partying" in a daze.
The party was never over,
and I called it fun.

I could go on, and on, but we all know the story,
and we all got our own tale to tell.
It is sad to think that many are still blazing the trail,
and they call it fun.
t





Just Quit Drinking

There is no secret to it.
Anyone can do it.
You don't have to hand someone
fifteen hundred dollars a week.








Love, for sure

See, governments may fail us,
and money might always not come true,
but there is one thing that will guide us,
and that is love, for sure.

I never understood this principal, before,
I always thought that it was some hippies
grabbing onto the trunk of trees,
it didn't make much sense to me
to pray for love, when I got down on my knees,

and when I saw two people hugging,
it seemed so alien to me,
but there is one thing for sure,
it is love that will guide us,
it is love that will bring us out of the hole.


I never understood this principal, before,
I always thought that it was some hippies
grabbing onto the trunk of trees;
it didn't make much sense to me
to pray for love, when I got down on my knees.

A can of beer use to mean more to me,
than the look you had for me in your eyes.
I didn't care about working,
I cared about having a bourbon and coke nearby.
And then my youngest son was born,
and something changed inside.
I went from fearing being late for last call,
to having that little bay in my arms,
first thing in the morning.

I never understood this principal, before,
I always thought that it was some hippies
grabbing onto the trunk of trees,
it didn't make much sense to me
to pray for love, when I got down on my knees,


You can have all the money in the world,
but if no one loves you, you are broke for sure.









Some day

This bull mastiff, that I met, last night,
was as large as a cement truck,
but mellower than a stoned hippy.
To look at him, at first, was a frightening experience,
but experiencing him had a calming effect on your being.
To know that such a large beast could mean you no harm
left open the hope that even wars could be ended some day.






Henry is sucking down water, like we have just taken a stroll through the desert. We haven't, but I think that Great Danes are built that way; to be thirsty much of the time. I am thankful that I have water to give him. Henry has been mine for most of the weekend. His parents have been gone, and I have been trusted to watch the dog. It is really quite an honor. I have also been trusted to watch the neighbors' other great Dane, Anna, but she is older, and mostly stays to herself, mostly stays on the owners' comfortable bed.











I have no trouble going it alone.

If I find that you irritate more than inspire me,
then you are gone.
If you are more of an irritant than a stimulant
then you don't even have to say goodbye,
because I'm going to do it for you.
If you have fun making fun of me,
or using excessive profanity, you are history.








Near me

By the time that she is ready, I'll be gone.
By the time that she has her mind made up,
I'll have changed mine, and moved on.
When she looks in the mirror and doesn't like
what she sees, she'll look over her shoulder
and there I'll not be.
I waited around, and I waited around,
but I ain't no clown.
I waited around, and I waited around,
and, now, I'm gone.
Pick up your morning paper,
and there I'll be.
I turned out to be everything you wanted me to be,
too bad you, now, can't get anywhere near me.
Posted by mikel k poet at 1:30 AM 0 comments Links to this post
Turn me turn me sideways
turn me inside out.


"If you love me baby, give it to me."--Ru Paul, circa 1982
Posted by mikel k poet at 9:29 PM 0 comments Links to this post
Why he got deleted

It is my thought that this fellow
primarily says mean or stupid things to me,
so I wonder why I keep him around;
because we once were "friends?"
I don't think that we have ever really
seen eye to eye, or much liked each other,
when you get right down to it.



Reality baby

Everything is artificial,
except for the smile on your face.






Hey white boy have you got a quarter?

I keep my courage in a bottle of Jim Beam
I stash my personality in a nickel bag,
and I just got busted.

Got a roll up for a biscuit.
Got a biscuit for a quarter.
Got a quarter for a roll up.
Hey white boy, you done with
that biscuit?
Hey, white boy you got a quarter?
Hey, white boy you look like
you're scared as shit.

I kept going in so often,
that I soon wasn't scared,
I could see the game that
the brothes were playing
on the newbies, the white kids
from the suburbs, who had
never been locked up, and me.

My alcoholism progressed
to the point where I was
coming into the jail very
blacked out, and I would be
given my own cell. I would
rattle the bars, in a,
once again, stupid attempt
to get out,I would
kick the walls, out of pain,
frustration, and then I would
lay down in my own blood,
and wake up in the morning
covered in my own puke.

When the would release me
into the holding cell with
all the other jailees,
it wouldn't take them long
to figure out that I was
the guy who had kept them
up most of the night with
my yelling, and screaming.
They weren't happy to see me.

So, if I say "no" when you
offer me a drink, you will
have to understand the reasons why.



Dual diagnosis

I'm alone, I'm a drifter'
I'm hitchhiking to nowhere;
I'm a killer.
A killer picks me up,
and we kill each other.







Melanie asked what I would do for a Klondike bar?

And I replied, pour endless oil into the gulf,
and send young soldiers to Iraq and Afghanistan,
telling them that I would pay for their college,
if they survived.



The man sits by the swimming pool

What have I got up my sleeve,
not much muscle can you believe
that I'm not a worker?




You don't have to read it

I'm old I want you to ignore me
not really I just hope that
my poetry doesn't bore you.




All alone with pus sores

Did you get laid?
Did you get paid?
Did you ignore all those things,
that your mommy told you not to do?
And, now, you're a prisoner
in a cancer cell, nobody comes
to see you.








Eyes to mine

It is my thought that this fellow
primarily says mean or stupid things to me,
so I wonder why I keep him around;
because we once were "friends?"
I don't think that we have ever really
seen eye to eye, or much liked each other,
when you get right down to it.











Reality baby

Everything is artificial,
except for the smile on your face.
Posted by mikel k poet at 8:46 PM 0 comments Links to this post
Hey white boy have you got a quarter?

I keep my courage in a bottle of Jim Beam
I stash my personality in a nickel bag,
and I just got busted.

Got a roll up for a biscuit.
Got a biscuit for a quarter.
Got a quarter for a roll up.
Hey white boy, you done with
that biscuit?
Hey, white boy you got a quarter?
Hey, white boy you look like
you're scared as shit.

I kept going in so often,
that I soon wasn't scared,
I could see the game that
the brothes were playing
on the newbies, the white kids
from the suburbs, who had
never been locked up, and me.

My alcoholism progressed
to the point where I was
coming into the jail very
blacked out, and I would be
given my own cell. I would
rattle the bars, in a,
once again, stupid attempt
to get out,I would
kick the walls, out of pain,
frustration, and then I would
lay down in my own blood,
and wake up in the morning
covered in my own puke.

When the would release me
into the holding cell with
all the other jailees,
it wouldn't take them long
to figure out that I was
the guy who had kept them
up most of the night with
my yelling, and screaming.
They weren't happy to see me.

So, if I say "no" when you
offer me a drink, you will
have to understand the reasons why.








Dual diagnosis

I'm alone, I'm a drifter'
I'm hitchhiking to nowhere;
I'm a killer.
A killer picks me up,
and we kill each other.
Posted by mikel k poet at 12:21 PM 0 comments Links to this post
Melanie asked what I would do for a Klondike bar?

And I replied, pour endless oil into the gulf,
and send young soldiers to Iraq and Afghanistan,
telling them that I would pay for their college,
if they survived.





The man sits by the swimming pool

What have I got up my sleeve,
not much muscle can you believe
that I'm not a worker?





P






You don't have to read it

I'm old I want you to ignore me
not really I just hope that
my poetry doesn't bore you.









All alone with puss sores

Did you get laid?
Did you get paid?
Did you ignore all those things,
that your mommy told you not to do?
And, now, you're a prisoner
in a cancer cell, nobody comes
to see you.



Fuck it

She's a taken bitch,
and I'm a fat old man,
so it ain't never going
to happen for me.








I was late to the stage to be a huge Superstar, because I was watering my garden: man, you have to love it when your priorities are in order.

I got onstage, last night, at The Northside Tavern (June 25, 2010) and asked Mudcat if he ever left watering his garden until later in the day, hoping that it would rain, and he wouldn't have to water his plants.

Mudcat smiled, and said, "Hell, yes." Mudcat is quite the gardener. He has recently made this hot sauce from peppers that he has grown that is outrageous. I put some on some hard boiled eggs, last night, and those dead chickens were screaming.

Then I asked the audience, quite a big one really, full of happy, shiny faces pounding mixed drinks, and beers that Hank Walton, guitar player, and bartender was getting ready for them. Many in the audience smiled at me, and said that they had gardens, too.

I said to Mud, and I said to the audience that, "I would like to start this Mikel K Poet-Mudcat interulude off with a Love Poem." Then I screamed into the microphone, "Carol Sucks," and we were, as Charles Bukowski probably would have liked to say, off to the races.

(Cont. soon: Everybody works at Walmart while needing a Rich Girl, and waiting for The Revolution: K with The Mudcat Set).








Newspapers sicken me

You have one person giving you
their point of view,
sanctioned by what they call, "an editor,"
and all these other people
thinking that what they read is God.
It's a really stupid setup, really.





I don't want to dance with death

Your outcome is decided by your input.
If you pull your Satan doll out on me,
I will become a cross country runner.
Posted by mikel k poet at 11:07 AM 0 comments Links to this post
Don't believe the hype(ass wipe).

There is no revolution
in revolution,
there is no toothpaste
upon your toothbrush;
there is just a lingering smell
of dog shit in your mouth.











From the crematory

Dead men
tell no tale,
you can build
images of them,
you can build
images around them,
and they can't
stop you
with the truth.











I see another one in the mirror

Oh, he'll keep asking,
I know that for sure,
because some men don't know
when to quit.

Oh, he'll keep calling,
even though you never
answer the telephone,
and he'll keep sending you emails,
though you never respond.

Some men are like that,
and I see another one in the mirror.










Trying to connect with the lady

She'll be hard to reach,
impossible to get through to;
it will be like there is a hurricane
between her, and me.

I'll feel like I'm walking
in the desert,
swimming across the sea,
hitchhiking from the USA to Europe
trying to connect with the lady.

I might as well take my toys, and go home,
not bother putting my fingers on the telephone,
quit waving at her in clubs,

a girl like her is just not for a man like me.
A man's got to know his limits,
she's way out of my league
I could hit a home run, and still not leave the bench
that's how beautiful she is to me.







I'm always awake

Guys who brag about being workers
ain't quite right.






On the map you won't find me

I'm going to run away,
and I ain't never going to come back.
I'm going to run away,
and I won't ever look back.
You been telling me how you have long looked
forward to the day when I would go away,
well that day has come sooner than you thought.





I'll change my ways

I promise that as soon as I come out of the daze
that drinking has got me into
that I ll get a job that pays
And I'll pay you back for all those things
I didn't do that I said that I was going to do
What I'm saying is that I'll change my ways.






Traveling Man

I feel novel when I look in my navel,
and see clear through to Tennessee.




The quality of my problems is good

I like to eat chocolate in the afternoon.
This guy who works at the grocery store
gave me a bar of the expensive chocolate
for my birthday, and now I am fucked,
because I can no longer be satisfied with
the cheap chocolate.





A pathetic loser

"He is a fictitious character, he is artistic license,
he is a metaphor for a non-existent character," I told her.
What I did not tell her, but he knew that she knew it, was
that he once existed. He was a pathetic loser, at the time,
in love, in love, in love, and only in love can you most be
a pathetic loser.




Writers are ruthless liars

Bukowski got to the point
where he had to live up to
his reputation,
though he probably was
really interested in calming down.
Like Hunter Thompson,
if Bukowski had lived one tenth as hard,
as he had portrayed himself to be,
in his writing,
we would never have heard of him,
because he certainly didn't "make it,"
as a kid.



On the planet together

I love raspberries,
and I love cherry tomatoes,
and I love to watch my cat
take a nap on my bed in the afternoon.

I love watermelon,
and I love blueberries,
and I love to watch my dogs eat
the food that I have placed
in bowls for them.

I love honey dew melon,
and I love cantaloupe,
and I love to watch my turtles
swim about their aquarium.

I love kiwi,
and I love cheese,
and I love you,
and I love me.









Forget about it

If you ever feel lonesome,
just remember that you had your chance
to live your life with handsome.
If you ever feel lonesome,
just remember that you made your choices,
and that handsome made his choices too.
And if you are ever crying about handsome,
just remember that handsome cried a bit, too,
but realized that it was time to move on.
Handsome once loved you,
but now he hardly ever thinks of you.
Handsome once loved you,
but there is something that you really ought to do,
forget about handsome
because he has forgotten about you.







Henry, the Great Dane, crawled up on the bed with me, a couple of hours ago, as I was descending into a nap. The big grey guy curled up at my feet, and I put a leg over him, wondering if doing that would keep him from jumping in and out of the bed, and disturbing my rest. Damn if it didn't work; both dog, and man, got a nice little early p.m. rest.

As I was doing my bit with Mudcat, on Friday, there was this guy down front who was really getting into it, so I interacted with him a little bit..."You ready for The Revolution, man...are you going to help us start The Revolution, man...etc., etc."

After I left the stage, the young man, and I started talking, and he said that he wanted to, "Book me solo at pubs." I'm on my way, baby! Not exactly sure where, though!)

Mother's Finest, with rapper, Zero Basement, on board have arrived, via tour bus, back in Atlanta. I praise my higher power for yet another safe trip for The Finest, and for returning Zero safely to us after his first major gig.








Hypocrisies of The System

They can addict you to their nicotine,
string you out on booze,
but if you choose to puff on pot,
and they catch you, you lose.







If I felt like being solvent
I might could solve that problem.
If I felt like dating babes,
they still might escape me.
If I wanted to drive a yacht
on the moon, I might be too soon
in my thinking.










Henry, has, finally, gone to his corner, and Bundy has, finally, gone to his corner. It took me a minute, this morning, to break up their play "fighting." I have come to put up with their rambunctiousness often, but sometimes I have to play referee, and just say STOP!

The boys will not listen to me, at first. It usually takes four or five vocal intrusions on my part for them to get even close to the idea that I am terminating their activities.

Morisson is much more my idea of a dog. He was never into wrasslin' with other dogs, but he did run away a bunch of times which was a dangerous pain in my ass.

I'm having canteloupe for breakfast. Yum. Yum.








An F is an F when it's stamped on your head

So, they branded you a failure because you didn't
make their straight A's,
now their children line up to buy tickets
to your performance,
their parents don't know that you were the one.



They tell me a lot of things

I keep thinking that I got something,
but I haven't I have given something away.
They tell me that giving
is better than getting.






What good?

What good is a picture if it stays in your camera?
What good is a painting if the brush never touches canvass?
What good is a poem if it stays in your mind?
What good is a trillion dollars,
if only two people get to spend it?
What good is your mind if you don't use it?










Make them more like us

I say kill all the beggars,
or at least put them in prison camps,
make them work for a living like we do.







Everybody flunks

There are no easy answers,
perhaps because the questions
have been designed to be hard.







Poverty, for some of us, luckily, is a state of mind.

I am poor in appearance, perhaps, to you
but you are trapped by all you have and do.
I might be happier at the public pool
than you are at the country club.









On the skreets

A peasant on the pavement
isn't leading a pleasant existence.










"In bipolar or manic-depressive disorder,
the inconsolable misery of major depression
alternates with mania or uncontrolled elation."

http://www.rxmarijuana.com/bipolar.htm

"Almost cut my hair. Happened just the other day,
but I didn't and I wonder why I feel like letting
my freak flag fly?"--CSNY








No thanks

Cut my balls off
shove them in my mouth,
cut my eyes out,
stick them in my ear,
because I'm going to
start The Revolution.










They have already taken it away

If we are allowed to discuss it freely,
then there is no freedom in it.







What they're not telling you on tv

Stay even keep on peddling like a dog
Most everybody is coming to the realization
that.







This way

Everybody wants to be something
that is basically the same thing.
I am what most none of you
would want to be, and I like it.

For Deborah Richardson






The swagger of the quagmire was quite intense. We needed bright lights, but could not afford the expense. Instead of fancy living, we'd all have to learn to live simple. Well, not all of us, but the ones who realized that they could afford to. Screw the parasites, and the pushers; they ain't going to live above the clouds any day soon. Here comes the monster; I'm going to make my cocoon.






Those guilty will be elected

Got a lot of money?
Don't care about the common man?








No family at all


I used to come home on time,
then I used to get in trouble
for coming home late,
and it got to the point
where I didn't come home at all.

I'd rather be a hero than a schmuck









The ads at the side of my Facebook page dangerously mimic me.

"Do you want to publish your poetry?" one asks.

"Cure diabetes," says another.

I have started deleting the type of ad that has most been directed at me, the kind that say, "Young girls waiting for you," and, "She doesn't want to be alone, tonight."

How does Facebook know that I am single, and horny. I mean I know that I put "single' in my profile, but I don't recall checking any box that says I was desperate for a blow job.

I have taken to clicking on the x that sits next to these ads, and then checking "offensive," or "misleading," when then given the chance to do so.

I am hoping that if I check these boxes enough in relation to these type of ads that they will stop sending them to me.

I think that it is working already, because I just got one that said, "Join our cat page, our kittens are waiting for you."

Now, how did they k







THE VERDICT IS IN: YOU SHOULD BY A COPY OF. "THE DELIVERY GUY," Mikel K's popular underground memoir about that period of his life where he went from an LSD soaked, alcohol laden music writer poet rock star wanna be to a sober father sitting in the Little League bleachers watching his son grow up as he ran the bases. This book will make you laugh. It will make you cry, and then it will make you laugh, again.

YOU CAN BUY THE BOOK, NOW, BY GOING TO THIS LINK: http://stores.lulu.com/mikelkpoet

"I found the book, "The Delivery Guy," by Mikel K to be a refreshing and sometimes uncomfortably honest look into the life of a modern writer struggling to come to terms with a pre-fabricated and often superficial, turn of the century, American society. The battle is dynamic and comes to an uplifting spiritually evolved conclusion. I found it a fascinating read!!!"--James Lewis

I am so glad you were able to put so much in the book and leave it there - knowing you now, it's hard to believe you held such anger!"--David Snave Evans

(You ought to get you a copy. It really is an amazing book, a look at how a many came from being an angry alcoholic to a happy father.)

YOU CAN BUY THE BOOK, NOW, BY GOING TO THIS LINK: http://stores.lulu.com/mikelkpoet
Posted by mikel k poet at 6:59 PM 0 comments Links to this post
On the back of the sample pack of glucose tablets, that I got off of the table in the back of the hospital room, where I was taking a Diabetes Self-Management course, there was a warning: “Do not attempt to give to anyone who is unconscious.”

I had to laugh at this. Had the company that sells this product seen what had happened to McDonald's when they got sued for selling hot coffee? I really could not see anyone shoving four of these tablets in the mouth of a knocked out man, or woman, which is the number of the glucose tablets that had to be consumed, when concious, and having a bout with low blood pressure. It's a strange fucking world, now, mate, ain't it?

Chick-fil-A, and I, have a very different idea of what a LARGE cup of coffee is. At best this cup of coffee that I just bought from them, here in the hospital lobby, on break from my Diabetes Management Class, is a MEDIUM beverage; and I mean at best.

Since I am in a class for diabetes, full of diabetics, I put no sugar in my coffee; sugar being the only sweetener that the aforemention fast food place offers, besides the poisonous little yellow packets. I went back to get a refill on my coffee, at my next break from class, from the chicken killers, and the old lady working the register told me that, "We don't give no refills, if you leave the area."

They may push their idea of "family values," on their employees, those Cathys, but they are certainly cheap bastards when it comes to satisfying a consumer with their coffee.

Possible Poem Title that came to my while sitting in class: Possible Chronic Complications

Diabetes is the third leading reason for death in the US, said the next lady to speak to us. She had a broad smile on her face,and she made me wonder what the top two reasons for pushing up the daisies, or getting burned soon after death were, but, somehow, it didn't seem an appropriate to raise my hand, and ask her that question, and, anyway, I figured that I could Google it, when I got home.

The young lady then asked us what were the chronic complications that can accompany diabetes, as the malady ages with you.

“Blindness, amputations, kidney failure, stroke, heart disease,” were all, among other things, waiting out there for us. Then she put an picture of a naked eyeball on the screen in front of us, and started talking about blurred vision, and the path to blindness.

I was scared, now. My eyes mean a lot to me. I know that I am totally blessed to have a good pair, and I want to keep these blue babies functioning healthily right up until the day when I dash through The Pearly Gates. Any talk of possible damage to my eyes, or loss of my site, makes me very squeamish; I get nauseous much like I used to when I still rode roller coasters.

We talked about our kidneys, next. The possibility of damaged kidneys did not bother me, anywhere near as much as the thought of damage to my eyes, until the instructor said that the result of shot out kidneys was kidney transplant, or dialysis; the worst of which, to me, was dialysis, which seems like such an evil thing.

Our last lecturer of the day, taught us how to take car of our feet. A small sore on your foot can lead to amputation of a foot, or leg. I wonder how I was so blessed to have become one with such a nasty life partner such as diabetes. The beast was bestowed upon me by my ancestors; it is as they say a hereditay thing. I, also, most likely, ate and drank may way into it.

I remember, before I was diagnosed, with diabetes drinking tow liters of soda most every day, eating, in excess, all the things that they are, now, telling me that are bad for me...pizza, pasta, and potatoes.

Oh yeah, I made a pig of myself at the buffet, also. Look at where trying to get my money's worth at the all you can eat place landed me.

Suck down is all can think to say, suck down.







For whom the bell tolls

Austere moves are necessary
but for us, and not for them.













Individuals among them seem to have split from the pack, and have struck out on their own to places they don't normally inhabit like my coffee maker, my desk, and my toilet. I have bought roach motels, and sprayed, and have started washing my dishes instead of sticking dirty ones in the dish washer, and waiting for a full load before I put the detergent in, and hit the start button, but still they creep about me, the little stinkers. As soon as the cash inflow increases just a little bit, I will pay someone to come in, and kill them all.











Recovery

It used to hurt in all the wrong places,
now I don't feel anything at all.











GOD WAS A PUNK ROCKER

Oh right wing.
Oh left wing;
you are both so extreme.

I hope to be moderate
not too fat, or too lean.










I think that I have traveled
since I left you,
but I can't remember
where I have gone.










Silly Bit

The verdict is in,
sound the bell;
I'm going to hell.
I start tomorrow
at a quarter to nine,
I've given away my freedom,
my time is no longer mine.
Since I'm on the time clock
they can treat me like shit,
somebody find me a rich girl,
please find her real quick!














One brick matters to the house

It was such a small amount,
that I thought about not
giving it.
But, if everyone gave
a small amount, then
a small amount would become something big.














Every time I do it

If it won't kill me,
then I might do it,
unless it involves
punching a time clock,
which is the slow death
of me.










It is at least five degrees cooler, today, on this part of the planet that I inhabit, than it was for the last couple of weeks. It is amazing what a difference five degrees can make; I woke up, early, this morning, searching, desperately, in the dark for the blanket that had been mostly ignored since winter time. I found it; greedily cuddled myself into the fetal position, and went back to sleep.







Writing new material is the kick. Going back through old material, and reading it, and, or, editing it is not the kick, but someday I will sit down with 28 years worth of poems, and see if there is anything worthwhile in what I have written.






Dogs who love me and miss me

The dogs are extra affectionate
when I come home from being gone
for hours at work.

The stick their noses on my legs,
and on my arm trying to pry my hand
away from the keyboards.

I am going to get off of here,
and take them for a long walk.








Poor Dog

I was especially nice to Morisson, this morning,
grabbing him by the head, and giving him a good rub down.
He is banging his tail on the floor, now; expecting more,
but there will be no more, for a bit, as I have stuck my nose
into the laptop monitor and am doing the morning's creating.
Poor dog, poor, poor dog.








Trading places

Morisson did not interact very well
with other dogs, yesterday,
when we were at the park.
Dogs would come up to say hello to him,
and he would explode on them.
I think that he has been hanging around
my other dog, Bundy, too much.







And now it's my food that's going to kill me

A veggie burger just don't seem right
without a bun,
and a hot dog without macaroni salad
ain t much fun.
I like my mashed potatoes,
with just about anything.
Pasta anyway you, or I, cook it is lovely.
I'm hooked on carbs.
I'm hooked on carbs,
and as I look down at this rapidly expanding tummy,
I don't know what to do.
I've given up drugs.
I've given up booze.
I've given up cigarettes,
but I don't know if I can give up my food.








Sleepy

Some mornings, I wake still tired,
and that tiredness stays with me all day.
I have sleep apnea, and I wonder if
sometimes the C PAP mask, that I wear, at night,
is not on secure enough.
The only thing that I can do is to make sure
that the mask is more secure the next time
that I go to sleep.






Not having a car, and not having cash seriously impedes my ability to hang around my kids; I might as well live on a Georgia Island, five and a half hours away, where I can walk the beach in the morning, and the evening, with my dogs. They do allow dogs on the beach on the island, don't they?

THE END