Third Street Prophet Blues

Sidewalk prophet spilling jumbled commandments
Capitol some looming grey sky gloom
Warning of storms coming scented green
Wet brick slick wit none more apparent
The prophet hands waving proclaiming devils
Madness billowing slippery sidewalk
Generational curses passed over designer purses
Passing by dress shoes blues
Deli pickle slices stick to roadside gutter trophies
Litter bug pop corn popper flinging
Paper plastic spastic clutter
Rain coming suits running cigar wet
Checking checks bank account drop
Sick hunger pains rumble like coming thunder
Lightning flicker dark shop glimmer
Detest the rest of the lonesome commuters coiling
Snake bite reality venom of unemployed fortunes
Tears, beers and Springsteen songs
Along the rooftop drip drop waiting for rain to stop
Should ask for more knowing what’s in store
When the storm is over
We will still be asking what the prophet said

Lake Effect Blues 

Cleveland rusty struggle ruckus
Beaten badly bloody bones
Lake front pressure drop
Euclid Ave breakdown buskers
Slanging Swingos lore print prophesy
Bowie slept here, Zeppelin fucked
Cockiness cocaine Rock n Roll
Halls of fame. Halls of shame
Great Lakes hip shake moon dogging
Cuyahoga shuffle scuffle blazing fire
Steel trap salt mine water foul
Mobster bomb squad 70s
Danny Green bloody doom boom
Robin Hood of Collingwood
Good bad good
Sleeping dockside union dues
Sick sack lost boys railroad tracks
Crumble back brick assassins creed
Slam dance VFW hardcore breakdown
Wasting away double shot flats fuckers
Dance dance revolution solution
East bank, West Bank
No Palestine, but a westside cop shop
Guns of Nazarene, Jesus Wept
Detroit Ave lullaby grunge era slut
Dressed up gentrified chicken fried
White kids having kids in the skids
Pushing black side east side homicide
Dripping drop leaking pipe problem
Old lead pipe bread makers poison
Corned beef days going suburban
T-Shirts renaissance old days gone
Buzzards and Bernie Bernie blinders
Terminally towering into smoggy blue
Lovely new shoe fits dunking diamonds
Champions celebrate cold motion
City shitty gone pretty public squares
Cleaner meaner greener hipster scener
Slapping noodle bowl bingo bowlers
Crafty beer knit hat flea marketers
Millennial millennium meltdown
Wahoo winners losers lighthouse
Give us good years waiting patience
Renewed north coast Lake Effect love

Nazi Punks, Fuck Off! A True Story

Our amps were wailing, some kind of punk rock noise. In a crowded room full of rejected youth spinning, spitting and watching with critical hope. As the band blasted away in half-assed chord progressions ripped from the Ramones, we felt like Gods, though most of the room thought we sucked. It was starting to derail as we missed cues, forgot lyrics and slipped off our groove. Still we thundered on furiously in the midst of “Fuck You’s” and “You Suck!” from our peers. 

Then it happened, a scumbag white power dildo of a boy stepped up to the edge of stage. He grinned, looking me in the eye, and threw his arm out straight at me, saluting Hitler like a dumb fuck. Without missing a beat and understanding my place on stage as a voice, I reared back and punting that Nazi fuck in the face. He flew back into the crowd and the place went mad. It was a complete cluster-fuck, nazis and punks swinging arms and bottles. It was electric and we found our fury, hammering on. I screamed louder into my mic and punched at the crowd of boneheads in front of me. 
Then I looked up, BAM! A full bottle of beer slammed into my forehead, I thought it was empty and just let it happen, I was wrong, I was out, blood covered my face. My drummer flew over his drums with a bottle of super glue and like a field medic closed my head, it was burning but I was running on adrenaline. The music stopped and the noise of yelling and scuffles, when I heard “Just fucking play!” So I crawled to my feet and One Two Three! We slammed into the final two songs! I was an animal covered in blood and full of angst. 
The show ended and we loaded up, I was alone by the van smoking when I looked up and saw a gaggle of jilted youth staring me down. I swung at the first one and they all attacked like cowards. Elbows, fists, feet and knees, I curled up once I went down. Then it stopped, I looked up and saw about 20 punks ready to come to my aid. The same ones who booed us earlier. They chased off the boneheads and helped me up, giving me hugs and smokes. A few beers and we were on our way. 
Moral of the story, nothing brings a room together like kicking a Nazi. 

Sister Mary (slit wrist writer) 

Sister Mary slit wrist writer  Codeine crush companion 

Black buttered soul sandwich 

In back garage panty parade 

Old mattress sun dress explore

Clash city rockers whitest riot 

Crumbling roman orgy ovations 

Overtime clock punch long lunch 

Bowl packers anonymous assist

Car parking lot lover lacerate me 

Cut in deep skin scars seduction 

On radio days sun rays Ella May 

Classy Hollywood make up eyes 

My perfect purple lipped pretty

Needle trip bit my lip tight bloody 

Pussy magic magnificent bastards 

Sinful soulful sacred Satan seekers 

Sister Mary slit wrist writer 


We sat facing each other in a diner. It was nearly 3am, it was chilly as the air blew from the vents. Sipping terrible coffee and eating shitty poutine. It was a dumbed down version, just fries, brown gravy and melted cheese. After we finished we lit cigarettes and had conversations about depression and music.

She was bright and had youthful energy. Her lips were perfectly shaped and bare. She had a smile that showed an innocence that her brash vulgarity kept hidden away. I loved the way she described things, like she was painting a picture. Each time she hit her cigarette she looked up slightly, and exhaled slow. It was sexy. I told her that she was beautiful which made her blush then laugh. She told me I reminded her of a character in a book that she had recently read. She said it was a good thing.

Our conversation was flirtatious and when she would go to the bathroom I’d watch her walk. She caught me in the reflection once but just grinned to let me know.
She said she was tired, it was nearly 5am. So we paid up and walked up the deserted street, her arm around mine. Her boots clicked in the sidewalk echoing between buildings as we approached her place. She ask if I wanted to come up and get some sleep, as I lived blocks away. I said yes and we stumbled up the four flights to her apartment.
She got me a drink and we sat together on the couch. We smoked cigarettes and watched bad tv. She dosed on my shoulder and I could smellier hair, it was like summer. She groaned in comfort and cuddled me.

Then she got up, went to the bathroom. She went into her room and I stayed out on the couch. She emerged wearing a t-shirt and underwear and stood in the shadows me asking if I would like to lay down.
I quickly fled, out the front door, chased by the thoughts of my own demise.

Yellow Three Speed Blues

Riding my orange 3-speed bike north into the city night, yellowish buzz of street lamps overhead. My breath soaked whiskey barrel broke. There was a rubbing noise coming from my front wheel as I sped through intersections and past lone wanders, it rubbed louder and louder, humming to the rhythm of my breath.

As I rode up 8th I noticed a man riding towards me. We were lone riders in the half lit dark of a barren side street. As he got closer I saw his face, expressionless, just blank. His shoulder bag swung around and he reached in steadying himself with his other hand. A gun appeared in his hand and he pointed while still riding, like a cowboy. Pointing it at me, I felt my heart stop and I dove off my bike into a heap of trash, BANG! BANG! I laid there, not sure if I was hit or if the pain in my side was from the curb I dove onto. I felt that I must be okay despite my bloody knee and a scraped hand. I peaked out and saw the man standing in the street, I tried to be silent but watched him as he stood over a dead animal he had just shot. When he picked it up, I realized it was a rat, which he flung into his bag and ride off into the city night. An urban hunter!

I laid there about ten more minute feeling relieved and laughing at the absurdity of what happened. I then smoked a long cigarette staring up at the night sky, then walked my hobbled bike home. The tire still made noise.

Two Poems 

Two poems


No clarity is found
in the shit squeeze
Stink stank stunk
Glorious fling of sadness
That rancid rainbow
cuddle touch
Slit veins pour out
Bathtub pain baby
Scarred skin chambers
Hidden until lovers touch
Lips kissing your past
Where razors ripped away
The broken dreams of youth
Baby browns running
mascara black
Sexually nowhere no one
Identity is trapped lasers
Zapped incoherent love story


Kiss me salty sad girl
Lay your patch work soul down
I’ll sew my own on your vest
Between the black flags and swans
Sweat my blankets dry
With your dark lady land
Spilling joke swearing sweater
Gross beats skin heat
Tattoos map your descent
Into abysmal abyss
It’s love graceful hate
Friendly fuck friends first
Patti Smith Venus of me
Poetess goddess hottest
Bite down til my lip explodes
Giving thirsty blood drop gulp
Burn me brand me free me
Sweet deep pool reflector
Vicious little one