art-fag, outlaw, and all-around good egg

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Fri 5 Sep 2014 9:31 pm

“fucking fags”
he said, “why
do they have
to go on like that, it’s
you’re right, I said
of course.
they go around
making a place
forming the scene
creating all the good works while
you go around
worrying that
they’re revelling
doing the things
you’re afraid
you might want to…


Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Thu 4 Sep 2014 8:57 pm

the worst thing
about Atheism
is the Atheist.

scorned child
clinging to Nature
and the tit of proof
angry at God
pretending not to believe.
with the intent to punish.

mans vanity;
a God who’d care
that you didn’t…

Sinutab blues

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sat 23 Aug 2014 5:58 pm

to be dry
is to be ill
to be ill
is to feel dead. Flat. Busted
Bored, broke and anchored.
tiny white lies
in tablet form simply
put a little ripple
back into the placid.
looking for something worth noting
while I hide
in the womb tub
to ride out the wave.

back wards

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Mon 18 Aug 2014 9:03 pm

I’ve faked it
so often for
so long that
now, I need
the Doctors permission
to really go
all the way in, and
admit I’m sick…..

walking paper blues

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Tue 12 Aug 2014 9:30 pm

she’s busted
broken up over
being let go.
shit, she’s just young.
I tell her
to forget it, get
good and drunk
and sleep til 3pm.
it’s no thing. But
I understand I’ve
been there before.
getting fired cripples
every facet of your ego
when you’re young.
when you’re old,
you thank God
that the farce
is at an end.

seven summers

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Fri 8 Aug 2014 1:10 am

Do you remember
When we took
Breaths, fucks, tears.
With ease?
How do we out Christ
Back into the equation
When we’ve had his whore?
Her ass was little vanilla. Vanilla. Do you remember
When rock n roll
Was white lies.?
Her ass, no ass
Was white vanilla.
It was all the winding
Rivet thru the canyon.
That canyon cut my throat, and I bleed from here to Sicily. I’ve lost my Sussy, my Stussy, dress me up, I’ve lost the food, the good neighbour, beware of the good appetite
There’s is no love
Just crippled threads against the crevice. If your waiting for God, hes busy watching teens take cocks
Like sequoia
There’s biting sucking ducking fucking
But, there’s no Christ

Well, not at decent rates….

pouring away from the glasses edge

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Tue 22 Jul 2014 2:46 am

bloated, fucked and fatuous
I watch the world burn
like a dream.
empty skull empty glass
pouring away from the edge
I’m left with little
but the foamed insistence
suspended in the substance
that I’d been right
all along.

sleeping on the couch with a shivering cat

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sat 5 Jul 2014 3:41 pm

life opened to the noise
I used to call home I
was tacking emotional obsession on this bulletin
while she was busied
becoming a wife and mother.
It’s all so dull.
can no longer even fake
the anxiety disorder
that fuelled the volumes, nor
the care for the cramp
in the space she left.

Poets are poets

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Mon 30 Jun 2014 1:08 pm

Courtesy of Chris Cornell

I think I know the answer
I stumbled on and all the world fell down
And all the sky went silent
Cracked like glass and slowly
Tumbled to the ground
They say if you look hard
You’ll find your way back home
Born without a friend
And bound to die alone

I’m thinking of your highness
And crying long upon the loss
I’ve found
And on the plus and minus
Zero chance of ever
Turning this around

Why doesn’t anyone believe
In loneliness
Stand up and everyone will see
Your holiness

They say if you look hard
You’ll find your way back home
Born without a friend
And bound to die alone

cougar (bad to still be young)

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sun 29 Jun 2014 6:08 pm

i know your tragedy-
that billowing hair
taut ass
tits that are almost past due.
i know you want to feel
feel young flesh
under your tongue, fingers
atop your belly
between your thighs
smell young must coming
up from deep inside
your beautiful cunt.
i’m not able to help
in this regard
im a little long on the shelf myself
but i just might know someone
who can….

crackers (move on out to Whisky Creek)

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sun 29 Jun 2014 6:05 pm

hunger, there’s a book in the kitchen
somewhere between the stove and salvation.
i know there’s gotta be cause
i gave the nose-ringed Goddess a twenty
ours palms flirting
over the low metals of change
and she handed me the pages i sought.
i’ve read one in between the bouts
of alcoholism and madness
putting the other away
somewhere, for Mother
but i can’t find a fucking thing.
Jeezus, could that be right? dunno
let me flick a stinky up of the the gas
my brains as flat as a rail penny
i gotta get high high to get
anywhere near sense… but wait, hear that yowl?
i cannot go on this way, living in the sky, high
above the yelps and rattles
from the death merchants
and the bottle collection cart always
one broken wheel away from silence.
settle. all is well.
there’s trout in the pond
and room on the Visa.
if i’ve conquered heart burn
and kleptomania
it shouldn’t be that much farther a come down
to knuckle under
and let the hard saints evict you
from the city you painted
with tongue
and toe.

in the heat and the dust

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sun 29 Jun 2014 5:58 pm

flat-bed loads
of low-grade loam
trucked in and raked thru
with one part rye
and two parts turf.
seed top dressing
dries dying grass.
this patch is about to go back
over to the City
so their doing the cheap
to get it up to snuff.
no shade, no hope, no respite
just complaints and calls
and heat and soil and dust.
the black soil feels sick with warmth
as it spills down inside my boot
and i long for the belief that deluded me
when i first came back over those mountains.

a Fathers last volley

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sun 29 Jun 2014 5:12 pm

“diesel stinks
hatred has ruined my looks
Alberta woman kiss like horses
and i’ve a strange burn on my cock
and balls.
i can’t cry anymore. find someone else
to fuck your Mother…

i dont have to do a single thing, ‘cept sit around and wait to die

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sat 28 Jun 2014 1:14 pm

attended the local
“ive peaked, and im kidding myself” festival last nite.
Cow-city Hipster left overs, shit-assed midgets in tow.
they called the hords back in after the opening flop.
we stayed put and ordered cocktails, opting
for the open space
and the sway of the hard rain.

she said “…it be SO easy
to steal that fat envelope off the service bar”

seemed an easy choice:
re-join the nostalgic sludge inside
or, finger fuck larceny on into a bluer future.

permanent 1982

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Tue 24 Jun 2014 11:01 pm

“…life’s too fucking short
and I’m too fucking old for this shit, Frankie”.
I didn’t know too whom
I was addressing that declaration
and, neither did he.
fucking late nite television.
How could anyone
expect I’d be sober?

I looked upon
his three hundred dollar sock, exposed
in the crossing
of his ironed
linen slack- sheathed legs
I said
” don’t expect
any nuggets from me
or wisdom, I
just give the weather
down off the tumbler, out
between the parking meters…the only time
a writer has
the right answer
is when the bread is green
or, his ass goes to auction. Fuck you, you
hockey puck
and fuck this entire
side-slit nation.
……I need a potato daiquiri…….

the audience roared with delight
( blood sucking scum, hopped up
on nicorette, and aspartame)

he leaned in with
his Grecian swagger and said:
” did you know
there’s a barber downtown
who, if your name is dropped
will give a clip
just like the one
you’re sporting now…”?

“fuck you, Frankie”
I said
“Fuck you all the way in, dry….”

greatest all-time heartbreak album

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Wed 28 May 2014 11:39 am

“…do you still think of her”?

how the fuck do i answer?
not honestly, cause
i cant honestly even
consider the question.

when her absence
drifts across my daze
i only acknowledge it
like someone elses
ringing phone

if i happen to linger
in that loss
the old steel band
goes taut, i fall
upon whatever floor
until i cry myself empty
then i drink until im full
only to feel empty again.

“no,” i say
“ not in a long time”.

(thanks to A.R. for the borrowed line)

fat city

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Mon 26 May 2014 12:02 am

Sitting in yyc
airport, sucking
martinis waiting
to return
back over the fold
over the moutains, as drunk
on Purple Rain and rejection
as i am on gin.

I had expected a welcome.

It wasnt to be
she had readied
a perfect fit replacement.

when i landed in Vic
I was so drunk
I forgot where I was going

thank God Dr Schultz
had the good sense
to pick me up.

I sang and wept
all the way
back into the city.

no one tried
to make me quiet.

they all knew, each
of the depth
of my
and the horrible
awful sorrow ditch
of the love
i had dug under, again

with the same
tired shovel…

sore spot

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sun 25 May 2014 11:26 pm

the ultimate result, the actual
way the world will end
-swimming in shit.

Everyone does it, every day
some, several times
a hot release
of stinking ectasy.

Ive done it
in the thrones of Versaille
the bowels of the Chelsea
the shit stall at the Whiskey.

my extinguishment
has marked the halls
that lit my dreams.

such a farce.

expell, wipe
flush, wash and away.

my only advice:
serve beer
at the door
on the way out
of the loo…

Tripping over the simplest task

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Fri 16 May 2014 12:34 am

the Ripper.

it gets late, early
you put all the pens in the drawer
the glasses are washed, turned
up against the wet
the bag in the garbage
is fresh, all is laundered
you could mop the floor
but then youd lose
the dust bunnies
as close ally.

well, theres ice
a couple of drams
and 5 cigarettes, nothing
is a bad as it seems

nothing is as bad
as this seems.

brunettes with deep
fissures between breasts and buttocks abound but
what fucking use?

i can swollow their essence
yet, theres no resolve
in the back of the throat.

Jim said
yer all just plastic warriors
in a phoney dirt war

he would know

he died fat
in a Parisian tub
lusting the romantic whore
and dying of wordlessness.

its a mid-
life crisis in reverse.

no need
to comb over, affix
the fading whims of my loins
to an infant, nor
embark on
a work-out regime.


all that cliche
would dull the bore…


Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Mon 21 Apr 2014 8:51 pm

cannot not have her, she
wont answer and
the other wouldnt care
Im away from my walls
my bricks, my coffee
and my only friend. Beer, well
it gives the bloats and lites
my nights ablaze
with God-blown heartburn, so

I pour the satan mollases
over the ice, swallowing around
the holes
in the rest of me.

cash in pocket

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sun 20 Apr 2014 11:51 pm

blasting the silver bullet
windows, leap down
with a flick im
running the Japenese 4 cylinder
into the mountains
on someone elses tab.

no matter how hard
i throw into secondary-
highway turns nor
how deep i mash the pedal
i feel no rush, no
pleasure from a misdeed, nothing
to compare
with the late nite
road bombs id throw, drunk
in ol shorty bang-bang.

speed-shifting the long stick 5
guzzling warm road beer
and leaning across the bench
to roll up the side window against
the coming mountain rain.

true freedom, burning
petrol i paid for
with glee
and total abandon
of all proper behaviour.


Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Wed 16 Apr 2014 10:45 pm

stumbling twards the neon

promise of a soft slide

thru the unlocked door

thank fuck they keep

the liquor stores open so late

in this ugly province. 

so deeply poisoned

booze sick, and struck

can hardly form the words

to assure the clerk

im well enough

to receive this 

most desperate purchase.

the comfort of burned out

street lights

and deserted back road

i crack 

the tall, yellow can open

and pour it straight down, no

its not strong enough

to cure the itch, but

it’ll blunt the pain

and ready the gut

for the high test toxic

tucked in tight

and the bottom

of the plastic bag.

too young to fall in love

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Wed 16 Apr 2014 10:42 pm

16, magic arrogance

and a prick, hard

23 hours of every day.

as we sat for dinner

she slid my hand

to touch the clip of her garter ( should have known, she

wasnt one for skirts), my family 

knew nothing and the glare

of my my blush

ran all the way up

out my collar.

I could have told her

found the words

that i wasn’t worthy, would

never even consider

monogamy…, that i was

too young to fall in love, but

she was too kind

gentle, tolerant and beautiful.

I would hold on, loosely

until all she had left for me

was pure hot blue hate.

a quarter century later

and i wouldnt have changed a thing.

young turks become

old scoundrels

and sentimentality is just

shit thrown against a hot wall.


Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Wed 16 Apr 2014 10:38 pm

sitting in the flank dark
of my white brick apartment flicking
the lamp on,off,on, Im
even growing tired
of this 2009,best vintage
in 25 years manages
only to stain my teeth.
you selfish fuck
you dance and drink
and bowl and sing
with total abandon as,I
die here
in the vacillating dark
growing lonilier
and more
with every
filled glass.


Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Tue 8 Apr 2014 1:03 am

as the name implies
the Velvet Rut
is a soft trap. Ive boosted
my belt size bulked
up my credit debt
and nearly clucked
myself into an early grave.
just as the sauce began
to garner accolades
i became incapable
of doing no wrong.
like every ready envelope
i smelled the curl
of my unearned Kingship
and, just as the readied
my Reichstag
i got the fuck out. here now
on the lean side
of the lookibg glass i find
ive gotta lot more to say.

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