The First Job I Loved (in retrospect…)

Funk’s Democratic Coffee Spot


chalk from case 1 are the color of grandma’s breathmints
Soft hues of blue, pink, and yellow, dusted with white
Case 2 holds the whole rainbow, the chalks are bold and living
“Maybe when chalk gets old it loses it’s color”
the sandwich board in front of the shop:
Black Bean Burrito. Fresh salsa. $5.50
Granita milkshake. Real ice cream. $3.50
Hank shuffles, his frame supported by a wooden cane
“Gonna be hot today…”
The black and white striped awning hangs like palm trees leaves.
“Funks” is neon orange in the window

Charlie is in the patio
His wifebeater has holes from cigarette ashes
He has a joint in one side of his mouth
The other side is singing Zepplin
He wants a burrito. Extra sour cream. Extra salsa.
And do I want a hit?
I do.

VW bugs painted on little blocks of wood go up the walls
As punk kids come down the stairs
They congregate and debate the merits of anarchy
They have all been arrested at protests
And they resist The Man at every corner they come to
They also have parents that bail them out of jail
And pay their rent while they go to MICA

The piano’s keys jut like an old man’s teeth
They have long been stripped of their black and white shells
They look wooden and old, like the mast of a ship
The heart is exposed; the belly of the whale is visible
The piano’s frame arches like a great fishes’ ribcage
Hammers kick like Rockettes when he plays a scale

Allison waters her plants
Sunshine blends in with her body
Pink nipples poke from a stretched T-shirt
She can hear the piano downstairs
“Why does he play the same songs over and over?”
When he comes upstairs they will go out with her friends.
He thinks they’re assholes.
He’s right.

Am I Inappropriate Sometimes?...

Holy Black Space Balls!




Sometimes I hate being black. I walked into a bar the other day and I felt like Darth Vader. Can you imagine?...
Darth Vader: (sound of Vader breathing) Luke!
Luke: Yes Father?
Vader: Where is your sister with the hot ass?
Luke: Leia!
Darth: Yes Luke, Leia. I want to show her my chocolate light saber…
Luke: No! That’s your daughter!
Darth: Oh! So only you are allowed to kiss her?
Luke: That’s not fair! We didn’t know!
Darth: You should have used the Force. Bring her out, that she may see how electrifying it is.
Luke: No! (In the bar people huddle into tight groups, afraid to look at me. A lady grabs her purse and hands it to her boyfriend. Smiles disappear.)

That’s how I feel when white people look at me…I AM NOT SITH, O.K.?!

I’m not packin, at least not packin packin, you know what I mean! (Sound of Vader breathing) I don’t want your I-Pod, and I’m not trying to have sex with your wife…unless you’re in to that sort of thing. Just relax.



(Black announcer voice: Time FO’… (Dramatic pause) Hidden Moments in Black History! (Music comes in)

Ah…Brutus?
(Revealed here for the first time, to have actually been a black man!)
Yo Caesar! Wuz Up! (Makes whoo, whoo, whoo, sound and pumps his fist)
Yeah…auh, whoo whoo…listen, some of the guys think you’re a little intense.
What do you mean?
Look I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.
What!
That’s what I mean right there…we just don’t think…you’ll be happy here!
Muthafucka Imma Kill You!

(In official white commentator voice…)

“Brutus went on to rule Rome for two years until his Brother in-law shot the nigga. The reason? “The nigga owed me five dollars. What? You posed to be Caesar now. You can’t pay me? I got Pampers on Lay-away baby!”




“Daddy.”
“Leia?”
“I’ve come to castrate you. The Line of Sith will end when your genitals are in my bloody hands.” (She wields her pink light saber.)
“I see you’ve created a light saber.”
“I thought it was appropriate, now that I shall be Queen of the Jedi.”
(In the bar: Look lady I’m just getting a drink. I’m not trying to wrestle… unless you’re into that sort of thing.)



_______________________





A special shout-out goes to James Earl Jones.

Old Dirt Road

             

                                                                    Old Dirt Road

 “Winston?”

            ‘Yes Mother?”

            “ I need you to take me to Bingo on Thursday. Gladys is in the hospital and I don’t have a ride.

            “I can’t do it on Thursday. I have a date.”

            “Really?”

            “Yes mother, really.” His mother snorts.

            “What is that supposed to mean?”

            “Nothing… I’m just surprised is all.”

           

            Winston walks down the steps into the basement. Removing his shoes he sits on the couch. The lights are off and silence reigns. The sobs come slowly at first, and then build until they engulf his being. Unconsciously he digs his hands into his knees, grabbing a handful of his pants legs. Slowly the sobs become silent tears, and then just emptiness. Curling into a ball he falls asleep.

                                                            ________________

            “Winston.”

            “Yes Mother.”

            “I visited your principal in school today. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

            Winston drops his ball and spins around wildly, a look of terror in his eyes. His mother catches him by the shirt, choking him at the collar. Scooping him in her arms she begins to walk toward the shed. Winston starts flailing his arms wildly, fighting for his freedom.

            “Stop it!” she hisses, her arms wrapped like boa snakes around his ribs. “Stop it right now!”

            “No!”

            “You know better than to embarrass me.” Winston starts kicking her in the back with his heels. She drops him to the ground and swings hard with her hand, hitting him in the face. The world swirls before his eyes, little blue stars dancing in and out of the trees. Before he can stand she has a handful of his hair, dragging him to the shed, his feet scrambling behind his body.

            “Playing doctor with little girls is a sin Winston. A SIN!” The taste of copper layers Winston’s tongue. “Hell is not a nice place Winston, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to go there.” She closes the door to the shed, swinging the latch shut.

           

            The night air feels like a soft kiss against Winston’s skin. The road in front of his house is as deserted as the woods that surround his home. As a child he remembers seeing deer, and one time a bear near his home, but no longer. The growth of the town half a mile down the road pushed the wildlife away. Probably for their own good, he thought. He steps and turns around. Twigs crackle under his bare feet.

                                                            ______________

“Mother, I’d like you to meet Sandy.” Winston’s mother stands at the top of the stairs, a dark silhouette. You can see the flowers in her hat, her favorite for church.

“Where did you sleep last night?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Did you fornicate with that whore?” She points a boney finger at Sandy.

“Shut up mother!”

“…And if your eyes should cause you to sin, tear them out! It’s better to enter the Kingdom of God blind than go with both eyes into Gehenna!”

“SHUT UP!”

“Jezebel!” She walks down the steps gingerly, her old bones creaking as much as the stairs. Sandy stares stunned, as if she has been punched in the stomach. Winston’s mother is directly in front of her now, her eyes burning with hate.

“Don’t your have any shame? Any decency?”

“Mother! Please!” Winston’s mother reaches in her purse and takes out some crumpled dollars, stuffing them in Sandy’s hands.

“Here’s a little extra dear.”

 Sandy storms out, running like a wounded animal towards her car. Dust from the dirt road billows backward from the tires as she pulls off.

“Sandy!”

“Get ready for church Winston. Lord knows you need to go. Gladys will be by soon.”

                                                ________________

           

            Sandy walks down the aisle and takes a seat on the pew beside Winston. He looks straight ahead, his eyes locked and glazed. She takes his hand and wraps it in hers, pressing them all into her lap. The church fills with people, blue-haired women wrapped in black. The sound of pipe organ fills the air, and instantly people begin to cry; the music is proof of the truth of the moment. The pastor walks to the pulpit, his Bible tucked under his arm.

            “We are here today because the Lord has called our dear sister home.” The pastor clears his throat and looks out into the crowd. Swirling fans over the pews wobble slightly, blowing hot air. He is black and huge, born for Southern preaching. Beads of sweat cover his face, which he wipes with a billowing handkerchief.

            “We don’t need to worry, and we don’t need to fear. Sister Colman is in a better place.” Amen’s fill the air. An usher is walking an old women down the aisle, helping her to her seat. Winston stares ahead, his eyes locked on the picture of his mother. Sandy clasps his hand harder. Winston squeezes back, staring her in the eyes.

                                                            ______________

            He can see the smoke now. Small clouds begin to twist into the sky like souls released from tombs. The crackle of the wood is surprisingly loud in the still of the forest. Winston sits on the ground, burying his chin in his knees. Soon the fire becomes visible, hungrily licking at the side of the house. He hears the breaking of glass and covers his ears. Now the fire burns like the flames of hell, forcing him onto the dirt road.

Two Buddies

 I decided to post some of the short pieces I've written... check out the posts and I hope you enjoy!

                                               Two buddies

People act like Cavemen

Their passions are ripe.

Hungry like little dogs- their skin itches

It’s because the streets... the streets are so dirty.

A wino twists a top off and asks a scholarly question...

(if Santa Claus was naked, would we love him? So much?)

Vomit cakes his shirt... vomit cakes his hair...

Vomit! Vomit! Everywhere!

While i write these things the bar whore lights a cigarette

Holds it. like a Magic Wand.

I stumble to the bathroom.

The walls press in.

Vomit cakes my shirt... vomit cakes my hair...

Flames burn from candlewicks.

I sink into black leather- my skin itches

A Red Stripe and a dirty ashtray.

A Mummy appears! He’s wrapped in bloody rags

He tells me, he tells me to shut-the-fuck-up.

He don’t want to hear no bullshit.

The clock says 1:30, I don’t believe it. Neither does the Mummy.

When the Mummy leaves I feel the night air.

I stuff my poem in my pocket.

Tracking down the soul Part.1

People get angry with "me" when I tell them that there is no doer, there is only life being done. But who is the "me" who perceives this anger? Certainly anger is perceived by "me", and that "me" is also a bundle of sensations in those moments. "I" usually feel the tension of the other, along with my body's own fight or flight response which creates sensations that flow through "me" in those moments. "My" body tightens, "my" heart pounds... surely these are all signs that "I" am an "I" that is a entity. "I" must exist, right...? If not as the body then as the soul in the body.

The problem with this line of reasoning is the root of perception (you could say "the seat of the soul") has never been found. We all agree that a corpse is no longer a person. The corpse was a person. Did the body that became a corpse house a soul? If so, then the soul is within the body, but where?

Think about this: where do you feel yourself to be when you move about the day. Not as the body, but as the sense of "I". Do you think through your toes? Do you identify with your fingernails? Probably not, unless you are some asshole guru running around telling people you perceive the life in every cell of your body. For most people the arms and the legs are tools that they use, and unless they are a source of pain they are easily forgotten. I think we can rule them out as the "seat of the soul" If you are like most people, you probably begin to perceive a solid sense of self in the genitals and anus. Most of us, even the most animalistic of us, would not identify ourselves with these regions. We know the jokes about what head men really think with. But all jokes aside its pretty obvious as a location for the "I" we can rule out the ass/cock/twat

 Disqualifying the arms, legs, genitals, and anus, where could the soul be? In aikido the hara (the spot behind the navel) is seen as the source of personal and spiritual power. Developing balance and power from the "core" becomes a lifelong pursuit. This power is not merely expressed through the  motion of the physical body, but also as living energy that radiates from the core, affecting the world around the person. Here we find the beginnings of our definiton of the "I" sense. And not just "I" in the sense of being alive, but "I" with meaning. The power to influence the world comes from this place. The term "gut instinct" finds an obvious basis here, in our native understanding that the hara is real in some sense. If we strip away the mystical extremes of eastern thought we still know the hara as part of the of "I" that we feel. If you told me you felt more life in your toes or genitals than in your stomach, I might start to back away from you. That sounds scary to me. The arms and legs provide fight or flight, the genitals and anus make the cycles of reproduction and cellular regeneration possible (no anus, no shit, no shit, no space for new cells) but the stomach region is the beginning of the sensation of "I" in humans. I don't know about animals... Im not a koala bear.

Power, sex and cellular cycles... do these things comprise the soul? Clearly not. I would argue we need to travel higher through the torso to come closer to the seat of the soul. I think it's funny that we are traveling along the same dierction as the Kundulini energy. Maybe the Hindus were aware of something... but how could we believe any group of people who don't know how delicious cow is?

Its impossible to deny the region of the heart gives us much of our moment by moment sense of identity. This is because of the incredible amount of sensation we receive from it each day. The energy can be overwhelming, swinging between polar ends.Whats amazing about this is, this area only exists in two emotional states: bliss or suffering. Everything else is a play on words. But am "I" my heart? Is the "I" housed in the chest? Personally I find my sense of "I" is weakest at the hara, grows stronger around the chest, and becomes most pronounced around the head.

Now we come to the top of the body, having followed the soul across the desert, over the mountains, and through the forest of the heart.Along the way our faithful trail of crumbs has been the feeling of "I" which grows stronger the farther we walk. What is left but the head? Once again we are reminder of those cow lovers the Hindus, and the map they created. On their map the X is a dot marked right between the eyes. But as we have already considered the sense of "I" is not localized to the head, it extends through the heart into the hara.

At first glance it seems the "I" must be a field that starts at the head (or above, we can't forgot the seventh chakra) and extends downward. But where is it? Or to make the question more personal to the reader? from exactly where in your head (or above) do you exist as the perceptual gateway between inside and outside? Does not the "I" sense extend downward into the flesh? There must be a location, if you believe the "I" exist.

Looney Tunes and Enlightenment

Hello folks... it's the Mighty Om signing in... Everyday that I wake up i look at the sky and yell at God... is it just me or is this life absolutely insane. I don't have a problem with my struggle. About ten years ago I decided to go for it. But I think about all the lost souls in the world and I wonder what God is thinking. I even know that I'm part of his plan to heal the world, or at least that's what I think... but I wonder what he's thinking. Is this right? Is the suffering people go through really worth it? People tell me I'm looking the wrong way, that the Devil is the cause of pain on Earth. Even if I believed in the Devil (which I'm on the fence about) I still have to wonder why? It's like this... there was a Looney Tune that was my favorite. Daffy Duck is in the cartoon world, but it keeps shifting on him. He jumps out of an airplane... and the parachute gets erased and turns into an anvil. He can't win for trying. Here's where it gets interesting. He wakes up to the lunacy of the situation, grabs the invisible fabric of the cartoon world around him (imagine in our world grabbing the sky) and begins to rip it to shreds, all the while screaming "who is drawing this cartoon?" In that moment Daffy Duck is on the brink of what the Buddha would call enlightenment. His suffering leads him to ask serious questions about the nature of reality. The camera pulls back and Bugs Bunny is at the artdesk drawing the cartoon. "Ain't I a stinker?" That is what life is like for a lot of people. God, The Higher Power, whatever you want to call it is involved with the drawing of the cartoon. Even if the Devil does exist and have power, he too is a character within the perception of God. The devil can only act... if time moves forward. And the only person I know who can control the motion of time, who in fact is beyond time, is God. The universe is a circle... within a circle... within a circle. But no matter how far back you go, there is no way to see the last circle. Being in time as we are, we will die before we get to the end. We are always a part of this cartoon. Just like in the Looney tune world, where the rainbow colored circle pops out at the beginning... and swallows the world at the end. Inside is where the action takes place. All worlds of beings from heaven to hell play within the circle. But only one being is outside the circle, and that is God. "Ain't he a stinker?" My prayer is that everyone in the world wakes up and demands an explanation...