surrender

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
surrender.

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.

grunt

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.

rabbits

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
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
emptied
with every
filled glass.

fuzz

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.

dillusions of grandeur

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sat 5 Apr 2014 10:59 pm

Oh yes, just words. I dream in words. I write in my dreams. I eat, brew tea, cook stewed beef, lay ham rolls into swiss cheese pockets, place flannel button ups against waffel cotton, pull cheap boxers against the terse frame of expensive denim, and finger good women with bad intent, all to the teletype of a constant stream of words.
Just a plastic, constant batch of words.
I am only a character i wrote. There is no Song of God, no land beyond, just words.
A sad song, angry for the rhyme of tune no one can dance to…

Slugs

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sun 30 Mar 2014 7:30 am

pink slugs pour
out of swollen gas bombs, hungry
to suck up
to consume
everything leaving
only a slime trail
as they move on.

cast out of Devachan

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Thu 27 Mar 2014 9:52 pm

deep, deep blues
would be black
if night swallowed the sun.
soda, tonic, tea
filtered cigarettes, avacados
multi-vitamins, super food supplements, still
I grow weaker
and more ill
with the passing days.
in the poison kingdom
I was safe, nearer death.
it’s all this fucking health
and good balance
that will probably kill me.

had these hands never worked a day

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Tue 25 Mar 2014 10:38 am

“… I’m scared for you.
we’ve been right here, so many times.
I know it’s what you want, but
it never seems to stick.
you lose a few pounds, get looking good
get your shit together, get writing, get
a little money ahead, then
almost like a fevered dream you
you go crazy. Driving cars off of bridges, running
trucks into walls, you
end up back home with
bloodied knuckles, broken
ribs and the cops after you. You
seems to be rather cavalier
about putting that bottle down, forever.
you end up so sick, frail
it’d as if you are just
moments from death, shaking
shitting yourself with fear and paranoia
and throwing up at the site of food.

but, it’s not any of this
that really has me worried

you are a professional fuck-up
always have been
you be alive
until you decide
you no longer wish to be

it’s this damned stew of yours

some day some trollops
gonna suck the recipe outta you
and then, what fucking use
will you be
to anyone?!?”

she always knew how to make me smile…..

borscht, and the sour cream of lust

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sat 22 Mar 2014 10:43 am

“… she was always fucked out from two
days coke run
still dripping of spunk, and I’d
run into her in the stairwell
barely able to keep
my eyes open from hangover.
we’d met
years before. Before I left
she used to make my morning cappo
at the local tap
as I hauled my 5 am as off
to tree work. The caffeine fix
had failed to reveal
what a deviant she was
and I fell for her there
over latte art
and empty sugar packets.
now, both single
and doing our devil-best
to destroy ourselves
we happened to share the same street address.
obvious to all but ourselves
it was not to be.
too close, too far inside and away.
two vainglorious fucking junkies
closer to Narcissus than Naomi
and, who really gives a fuck?
love sucks deaths swollen teet, however
when here Dad died
and she had trouble leaving her apartment
I was on a cooking jag
and I’d leave litres
of good, hot Borscht
outside her door.
she was always complimentary
and glad to receive.
those mason jar
of that peasant brew
that was a close as we ever came
to anything resembling affection.

too bad, really
she had amazing hair
a great sense of style, and
an ass that tasted
just like Vanilla bean…

please pass the salt….”

flower petals like the lips of a baboons ass

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Fri 21 Mar 2014 12:02 pm

to be at the other end of the neon
cell glow, the call
coming in well
past the witching hour
the slur, the slant, bigotry unending
emotional thuggery dressed up
as a cry for help
gross alcoholism employed
as a waiting room
for elongated pedantry.
a voice, one once cherished
echoes and clanks in a deep empty
a rut where once there was a heart.
why do the dead drone on so long
after the unsettled debt
of their exhaustive existence
has failed to illicit
any lasting mourning?

sannyasin

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Thu 20 Mar 2014 12:15 am

sugar fix the itch, i
run from the viewing machines
the phones dull glow, even
the candles threatening flicker.
like some strange monk i flaggelate
myself over sin
real, and imagined
safer for the hollow
of my lonely dark.

log

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Wed 19 Mar 2014 1:08 am

….you could have got a contact high
by going barefoot across my rugs.
young, drugged, and on the verge of madness
I bided my time
in between bong hits
and cheap beer in
that big tower downtown.

friends called it
The Curry Palace
( the 9:1 ratio not withstanding, I’ve
always preferred people from the sub-continent, instead
of noise complaints
and snotty looks
I got fed home cooking in the elevators
and the knocks upon my door brought
trades of finger hash
for my skunk…)
and I was never happier

until I wasn’t

soon, cutting across the tracks
I spotted her
my most torturous whore
who hadn’t quite managed to destroy me.

with that single sighting
I set out
to finish the job.

within weeks
I was out on my ass
and my guitar floated
like a tan lolly
in the pool
18 floors below my window.

in all the ways
I could ever intend it
I never managed
to get that high
again.

Arjuna

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Mon 17 Mar 2014 1:00 am

a poison so fine exits.
I am forced to recall
how this toxic pilgramage began
scuffed against the hard rail of anxietys blossum
I chose a soft option
to bring everydays early end, to cool my throat
and set me at ease.
as with all false solutions
it worked so well so fast
and then, it didnt
and then, it was too late.

late, like it is now.

no poison

no soft option

just the real fear
of getting ground down, and out
against that same
hard rail…

diarrhea

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sat 15 Mar 2014 5:39 pm

feel like I could write
all night long
tho it wouldn’t help
with the hangover
or the eye bags
it would should pull the teeth
out of tomorrow’s dread machine.

something
very near
the truth, the creative
and all the chills of
that gap between
has been tickled as of late
and I can’t stop rubbing
that easy flow
as it fleets on by.

long thoughts

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sat 15 Mar 2014 4:47 pm

blink, and the hard-fought
treasured hours
at the mercy end
of the work day are gone

crashed on the couch
by 7:23 becomes
lost in tub lust til 10
becomes guzzling beer
scribbling shit out
til 20 after 12

disappearing bottles mimic
the hours dissolved
diminished hours of darkness, of night
of freedom

read the book
savour the page
and the last few mouthfuls
do the golden lager
- it’s all almost gone

and so
is this much-
needed
heavy earned
reprieve .

whipping post

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sat 15 Mar 2014 5:58 am

not a person, nor
site of affection deposit just
a hitch to pelt waste seed
and abuse upon.
not all the lashes in the grain
have my signature, not even close
but ive worked that wood pretty hard
for all the posts
no longer standing.

note from a fan

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Wed 12 Mar 2014 6:31 pm

“…You have this distorted view of me and always have j. I tried to care no matter what but you are a loner. You just regurgitate the same old battle with yourself girl after girl. There is noone to love but you. You are soooo weak its a wonder how you were able to retain so much vocabulary. But as apes do, we do. Ape. Mimic. That’s takes nothing. You know the one thing you don’t get… Is how boring you are. Therefore your relentless attempts at trapping something in a phrase, are just the same, boring. Try doing something truly worth writing about j. Cause this verbal vomit you make everyone choke down has run its course. You are not Charles Buckowski. You are Jason Christopher Fisher. Boring..”

Hollywood hit parade

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Tue 11 Mar 2014 12:49 am

It was a strange invite
that only occurred because
someone with a lot of sway
and a big ego
caught a copy
in a shitter
somewhere on the road.

she asked” are you nervous?”

I hadn’t considered it

I was much closer
to annoyed.

the car came, and
I sucked at the good Potatoe juice
as went lifted out
of the smog halo lights
into those glorious hills

his fucking place was like Xanadu

anyone who you could ask
“We’re they there?!?” was
I hid at the back bar
leafing thru vinyl
and draining the good vino.

” hey, are you?…
ah man I love yer shit. It’s like
so fucking REAL!!!!

listen, yo
we got some fine bitches
and these freaks
are ready to of ANYTHING!!!!, you in….?”

I started to laugh.

slow at first
then tears soaked hysterics

my host seemed stunned, thought
I’d better clarify

I said” you mean
those half- naked whores
over there, in the corner?
so, what yer saying is
we bang em up
take a little but more
from someone
who ain’t got nothing left to give.

What a fucking cliche festival you all are.
couldn’t you find a librarian
or a French maid to defile?..

what a fucking farce”.

I thn proceeded to throw up
all over the Italian marble floor.

seems I knew
a bit about cliche
myself.

bed snake

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sat 8 Mar 2014 1:34 am

she was nothing, and then
in an instant

she was still nothing.

“Street Legal” she was
the first girl I knew
that knew
that nugget.

she was viper thin
A wicked addict, but
she always had good wine
a good needle on the vinyl
and, it was comfortable.

It wasn’t love, it was
lust like like love like
pale blue is azure, I
Couldn’t even rent a tv

I’d come over
day or nite, drunk
and she’d put on
Bobs ” Street Legal” and
I had no idea what it meant

why I did know
was that if I stayed
We’d smoke we’d get cozy
and after the good wine was gone
she’d dance.

I could pull her down
against my flesh
I
could sing her
the musty queer, I
I could pull every move and
she wouldn’t care, as long as there was
more wine,
these was always more wine.

She sang every word.

I ate everything.

Also in the fridge, I

Would chase her around the bed

She was very enthusiastic.

she was like some kind
of bed snake, and she
Gal of the month
Had no idea
That all I wanted
Was to die…..

Peter Pan

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Sat 1 Mar 2014 1:51 am

when the face has grown long
the gut has grown shameful
and the money’s all gone
that’s the usual cue
to give over
and grow up.

no one likes
a paunchy Peter Pan.

but, a bitter life
of waste is
the last toy
of the permanent infant.

a strange man-child
with full diaper
and an emptied bottle desperate
to find someone new
to play with.

Portuguese hunting socks

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Mon 24 Feb 2014 3:22 am

it doesn’t matter
what Lacey fringe caps her panties
it doesn’t matter
whether the vodka is made
from potatoes
or rye grain
( and, it sure as shit doesn’t matter
how much you paid for it)

it doesn’t matter
how much sludge she’s
put up the valley, or
how many splits
you’ve capped
in a respective month

It don’t matter
if it’s green
or black tea

white or brown crank

white or brown coke

white or brown cake ( but,
it sure ss shit matters
if it’s white
or brown whiskey…).

it doesn’t matter
if the tail
is yellow
skunk
brown long with perfect symmetry
of black flower dense, verging
on the edge
of ecstatic midnight.

what will keep you going
as the fringes fall away
will not have a colour
an odor
a brand, or a badge.

it will appear
when you least expect it to
come clear, hard, and full-flavoured

and

so will you.

system of abyss

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Wed 19 Feb 2014 1:29 pm

deep in to my 39th season of denial I got to tallying all the missing and the appeared that I have so conveniently began to tuck away: hair, wrinkles, fat cells and hard scars, no matter I’m not running for mayor or cover girl so a little age sits well on my shameful frame and it’s not getting old, it’s my failure to grow wise, mirrored reflection now aping a kind of melting idiot, it’s me just left in the sun too long, I wouldn’t go back I despised being young, as I won’t go to God to seek meaning as I have hated every Jesus that’s ever come across my desk, no I’ve made no resolution except to stick to gin( lighter colours apparently leave less hangover seems like bigotry, but who am I to argue?), steeped tea, and kinder lovers, if I’m trapped looking at that wilting mug of mine I might as well witness the play-doh face bent with a smile….

sad, old radical

Blogged by J. as Uncategorized — J. Tue 11 Feb 2014 7:12 pm

fat on the system
I claim to despise, we
blast past the door of the dump
on a high crest
of 52st
in the deep southeast.

the whole city laid out before us
like the uniform spokes tuned toward
a commanding hub.

I knew then
exactly what
I needed to do
and just uttering the words
made me tired
all the way down
to my marrow.

old radicals die many deaths
for the sin
of, somehow
managing to stay alive.

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