new poem

>

TAIL OF A RAT

Rat_tail_by_whiteflyinglizard

Known as a rat tail
Feared in locker rooms
Special deadly method
of rolling up towel

Start with diagonal fold
Thick end, gripped
Thin end, wetted

Effect:  like a whip
Purpose:  inflict pain, raise welts
Target:  back flesh on upper leg

Able to rip
a cardboard box
No, no joke

Zing!  scorpion sting
Clean after shower
Dirty rat.

3 poems i read last night @ the mystic journey, a bookstore in venice

>THE MOCKINGBIRD SPEAKS

Listen to the wind
the mockingbird speaks
my kind of language
flecks of white under black wings

my own wings help me
to see this great city
as I soar
over the rich man’s domain

I crap like a pigeon
in their swimming pools
on their tennis courts

I peck at their mailboxes
the wooden flesh is weak
no match for my beak

I eat rattlesnakes for dinner
the poison is in my zip code
nine-oh-to, see the cauldron

steaming

with its cold free radical consommé
on a late great fashionable plate
go see, if it’s not too late
and hear, if a damn can still be given

have a close encounter
with an exacting mind
speak with tiny braille nipples
to the blind.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

HABITS
———–

I have gotten into some bad habits.
For one thing, I like to bite our dog.
 
Sometimes I bite her on the ears.
My wife, Laura, doesn’t like it
When I make Lucy yelp in pain.
 
Somehow, I feel that biting
Is a language a dog understands.
But why on earth
Should I hurt the poor thing?
 
It’s not right,
And I need to quit it right away.
The toughest thing, they always say,
Is to quit cold turkey.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

ALLEN GINSBERG

Howl busted the yawn wide open, broke it down
into the screaming hysterical hip hop city streets,
ran naked over the Golden Gate Bridge at dusk
and plunged into the icy cool stream of consciousness
of America worldwide.

Go Daddy! Big Daddy, go Sky Father
of the tiny pieces of paper with wings
Yo! Pop Daddy of the wide round mouth,
big and tall books, and large magazines.

Yo!  Give it up for the Grandmaster,
the luminous name of the poet Allen G.,
the man, the one who laid it down
and laid it all out, yeah, the man, Ginsberg,
he who sang with a big voice, a huge brain,
and a giant heart, who sang for sex and pain,
for madness and truth, for life and the death
that spikes that crazy immortal paradoxical elixir,

yeah, who else could sing and rave,
rage and shake his fist at the tight-ass Five Stars
who overcompensate with Greek god missiles
for what they can’t give to their women at night,
yeah, Mr. A.G., that’s who (look it up in Who’s Who,
page 4 – 1 – 1), he who knew what time it was,
yeah, he who knew when to dis’ the establishment,
when to throw a bucket of splash
on the wicked witchy parliamentarians,

yeah, Allen G., that’s who, who else had the funk
to freak the system, to speak up and speak out
for peace, to open the eyes of the masses
and not pander to the pandemonium,
nobody else said it like him, with wisdom, serenity,
stone cold chutzpah, and a harmonium.

AFTER AURORA

Strike bullet. Blam!
Pull trigger. Pow!
Ain’t bein’ American awesome?
I feel most alive
when I’m gunnin’ someone down.

Don’t know, can’t put my finger on
when my soul got crumpled,
shredded.
I’ve been psychically screwed.
I’m past the point of snapping.

I’ve crackled. I’ve popped.
My heart armored, my brain
misfiring.
If Waco wasn’t a wake-up call
what will be?

Ten years since Columbine,
the documentary. Gutless
politicians folded. Blew away.
Blown away. I got
my assault on.

I felt nothing.
Same old, same old.
Shooting.
Dealing a game
of death.

— H A L ☮ ♥

Originally published in the local newspaper:

http://freevenice.org/Beachhead-2011/Aug2012/aug2012.html

Friends DON’T let friends SHARE “DOCX” FILES

Image

Microsoft Word© is a fine program, don’t get me wrong.  I’m actually using MS Word 2004 for Mac to compose this blog entry.  For folks who have newer versions running on Windows™ computers (I’m holding my nose now), the default format to save your new documents would be “docx.”   I wonder if anyone ever said that “default is best.”  I think not.  Decidedly not.  I hope you’ll agree with me.

When you create a new document in your shiny new word processor (let’s presume it’s a copyright-protected product of Microsoft®), please slow things down for a second.  Take it a step at a time.

From the top “File” menu (I hope you can still see the top menu words in the version of MS Word that you run  —  if not, neither God nor I can help you), please select ”Save as…

From here, you will see a dialogue box something like the one below:

Image

If you should happen to see that the default extension is “docx,” please scroll down to “Format” and make a selection that is compatible with MS Word 2003 (Windows) and 2004 (Mac).  The extension should automatically change to “doc,” if you have made the correct choice.

When you share documents that you have created, the 3-letter extension “doc” will go a long way toward eliminating compatibility issues.  And, who knows?  It just might help you win friends and influence people!

Book Trailer for The Fantastic Jungles of Henri Rousseau [Video]

Book Trailer for The Fantastic Jungles of Henri Rousseau

http://youtu.be/XvaJtq_RJ9g


http://eerdword.wordpress.com/2012/06/05/book-trailer-for-the-fantastic-jungles-of-henri-rousseau-video/

 

http://www.amazon.com/Fantastic-Jungles-Henri-Rousseau/dp/0802853641/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1342225834&sr=1-1&keywords=fantastic+jungles+of+henri+rousseau

FORECLOSED MINDS by Hal Bogotch

{my poem:  originally published at BACKROOMLIVE.wordpress.com on Feb. 14, 2011}

FORECLOSED MINDS

Press words out
through cardiac tissue
dip into the well of compassion

wine stain plume
spreading indifference
almost as if

a hand crank
could be attached
to virtual electronic wanderlust

bank on it
know the truth
in the negative balance

ply the Pennsylvania Dutch
for secrets
of mixing mechanical metaphors

I tried to learn the steps
before I forgot myself
and danced.

Can soap bubbles help bring peace to this world?

Image

There is way too much war and strife all over the globe.  Who would argue with that?  Syrian people are suffering terribly.  India and Pakistan violently skirmish on and off.  North and South Korea seem to be permanently irreconcilable.  Sudan, Afghanistan, Iraq, Lebanon . . . I could go on and on.

As unlikely solutions go, blowing bubbles might head the list.   Hear me out.  What if every soldier in every army everywhere had to replace bullets with bubbles?  All “shots” would immediately float gently upon the breeze.  I would require that every bomb be fully defused by dropping it into a bubble bath.  Landmines would definitely have to be dug up right away and replaced with soapy, soaky loofahs.

In every geopolitical hotspot, anywhere on the map, a complete lockdown on ammunition would be swiftly enforced.  Bayonets?  No.  Bubbles?  Yes.

My plan is to involve the United Nations, Jimmy Carter, the Dalai Lama, the Pope, the Chief Rabbi of Israel, Mother Teresa’s ghost, and a few major manufacturers of soap bubble solutions.  Who is with me?

Got conflict?  Bring on the bubbles!