BABY BOOM

by Randall Rogers

Hipsters,
are getting old.

We are seeing more people with facial moles and growths now,
John Boy used to wield the largest facial mole in the Game,
didn't protrude enough though

So one may say
Create a respite from the toils of any age aging
of seeing for yourself the years and
what is and has been occurring for some time
and doesn't seem to be going to stop until...
soon the grave and not much else till then
more Turner Classic movies and "Golden Girls" episodes
geez, we age and don't you know?
the world never stopped, but for moments, during your prime
maybe get some weed
now that we can get it, legally,
and being a Grateful Dead fan
now twenty, thirty some
years after Jerry's death
to follow the Dead now being
said to be a respectable, free-thinking
hip thing to do
kinda thought it was irresponsible ''carnival" style
multi-day freaking out of an LSD party at its best,
and long running.
We ignore, however, those that never really
made it all the way back
to be a normal vacuum
job holding, home-owning,
child having member of the
petite bourgeoisie.

Some folk say Garcia alone
was responsible for leading astray
a quarter of the youthful population of the era
Over a thirty year run with the Dead
 (and the side projects all members of the Dead did)
Garcia liberated by the music and lifestyle (his own)
Though many of those freed, it is said, were doomed or enlightened
to live high-travelling, organic and free,
and are now herb toking old age mellow folk
some now captains the ships of their own industry
still experienced and experiencing.

Come now that we might be able to, allow
free currently illegal drugs, especially weed
and as A. Huxley put it;
give me injections of good LSD
when it's close I shall die.
Leary like.

Baby Boom elderly
say it can't be so!
long hair and tripping drugs
groovy media and good eats
resting body if one must but
 mind taking in whirring the kaleidoscope
in the freedom of old age
hear the colors
 of life tasting the sweet
of impending demise,
a bottleneck 'o' hipsters
entering their no-embalm
green funerals,
forever Further.

Making My Own Acquaintance

by Randall Rogers

I don't know
what is more scary
thinking about
my past
like the time
I went to Cambodian
prison for shooting
at a cop,
or thinking
about my future.
Especially how
One becomes the other.
I guess best not
to think at all.

GOT KIDS?

by Randall Rogers

GOT KIDS?
THEY WERE
KINDA ODD
WHEN THEY REPLIED
YEAH, WE HAD
SWEET
AND SOUR
CHILDREN,
JUST LAST NIGHT.
ONLY BONES
THAT’S LEFT
ROUND
HERE NOW.

Dear Mr. Lenderman

by Randall Rogers

My father informs me the former manager of the hotel I am running here in Cambodia was able to steal $40,000 from my account through using a faked copy card, using my number or something. I don't know how he did it as I can not even pull out that much without Amex putting a stop on my card.  The embassy investigators here have pictures of the guy going around Cambodia pulling out at ATMs like $5,000 at a time.  I caught the guy stealing or embezzling from the hotel.  He confessed and then took my passport, all my credit cards, my bankbook for an account here which he cleaned out, the hotel van, jewelry, everything he could grab.  Others, his gang or something then started breaking into the hotel when I closed it and fired everyone.  More stuff stolen but I fought, and rigged up booby trap things so say if they busted the lock on a door when they opened the door a plate or glass would fall break and alert me.  One night I just sat in a chair on the first floor in the dark in the middle of the night.  I sat silent, pitch black.  And then someone was trying to force the door open.  They got it open, started walking into the kitchen whispering something in Khmer as if an accomplice was already inside.  In the dark when the guy got near me I said some epithet and smashed a vinaigrette bottle over his head and beat him.  He managed an exit.  Thought I was through with these characters after that but the security guard in cahoots with this guy next busted in, I heard the plate break and from the third floor opened the window and rained bottles down on him and cursed him.  I was on my way to the tourist police to report the theft and all this in the morning but this security guard/cop incensed me.  I kept lobbing bottles at him as he ran away (I had the high ground) and the neighbors called the police and I was arrested and put in prison for a month and ten days.  My first Christmas and New Years spent in a big house.  I was charged with if you can believe this; shooting at the police, destruction of property and ganja.  I said you must be joking.  They weren't, or well, it's all a joke when they get someone that someone is going to prison here and going to have to pay to get out, whether you did anything or not.  I'm a criminal justice area concentration at the PhD level, it was like a surreal movie.  there was a lighter in the shape of an old relic gun that that criminal manager, Now Makara aka Bee Bee, had here as a joke thing to light the guests cigarettes.  Apparently I used the lighter to shoot at the police, broke my own place up, and had marijuana to boot!  Then under this French system I had to go give my statement to this judge with interpreter.  I told the judge the story of the manager who is still out there who took everything I could identify myself with and the van.  I told him get him!  Let me go!  And I read the UN rights book in prison and told him your system has violated about every one of these international legal codes and practices it says your government agrees to follow in this book.  He became stern but the stenographer got it all down.  Seemed he wasn't believing me so I started to question his competence.  I started to ask him first year law school questions.  But the few he let me ask he got right.  Then after the statement he brought out the bag of "evidence" against me. In the bag was the lighter (which he insisted was a gun), this I guess odd powder they were charging me with - wheat flower still in the opened General Mills white bag (cocaine?), he tasted it.  That's flour, I said, sort of like rice flour or ground rice one makes bread out of it, I told him.  If you want to make bread use that.  Then I looked, he dumped the contents on the big table I was being inquisitioned at, I didn't see any marijuana or ganja as they call it here.  Where did that go if you ever had any I asked?  He wasn't sure.  Anyway after he heard my story I thought they'd let me go.  But no, back to prison - for like thirty two or so more days!!  Finally I got a lawyer that would not just take my money and do nothing and easily after paying 4,000US I was out.  When I got back to the hotel though the police had cordoned off the place they came in and stole my new computer, mobile phones, had a good go at the booze supply. I'm still discovering things that are gone.  Someone took my Birkenstock and Nike shoes!  With no ID I could do little when I got out.  I reopened though and sold cut-rate rooms, still are as I write.  Then I was able to get 1000 US from my father by Western Union with no picture ID (one pays more to send the money and two test questions).  That's what I am living on now.  Oh also I think these folk were breaking in after the manager ran possibly to get these craftily hidden accounting records I found and have.  It appears the manager and someone with brains was laundering money through here, then moved into the making phony credit cards operations.  What is strange is that the manager's wife works at the bank he cleaned my account out of and she has access to my Visa with that bank.   

UP TO YOU ALL THE REST

by Randall Rogers

Filling
what
was
once
nothing
I tired
less
than half
    way through.

And the work
was
hate to say
more than
beyond genius.

Plastic Surgery

by Randall Rogers

Beauty
must lie.
Wither,
and die.
The sooner
than later.
Or else,
it lies
not only
to itself.

THE WINNER LOSES ALL

by Randall Rogers

THE WINDS
OF YESTERDAY
BLEW
BITTER.
HIS PAST
WAS
CATCHING UP.
BEST THE TIME
FOR DYING
IS SOON
HE’D SAY.

TIME
IS A
PRINCESS.
NEVER
A QUEEN.

LIVING LIFE
ROUGH
YOU KNOW
HEROIN
METH
NEVER A
GIRLFRIEND
CRIED THE DAY
GARY COLEMAN DIED
IS NOTHING
RATHER
THAN
SOMETHING
AND IT
COULD HAPPEN
TO YOU.
OR NOT.
BINARY BRAIN.

I SEEN SO MANY
STRANG THINGS
IN THIS WORLD
THIS LIFE
WEIRD SHIT
NO SEEMINGLY EXPLA-CAUSATION
BET YOU HAVE ALL TOO.
WE JUST
DON’T TALK
‘BOUT JOE’S
BLOWING
HIS HEAD
OFF
SHOTGUN BARREL
O WHAT LEFT OF HIS
HEAD
IN THE MOUTH WE
ALL SUPPOSED
TRIGGER
CAUGHT ON HIS TOE.
WEIRD SHIT LIKE
‘’WHY’’, JOE?
MUCH LESS
THAN WE TALK
ABOUT
THE DRUG
SHIT,
AND
THAT WE
ALL
MASTURBATE,
THAT IS,
IF WE STILL CAN.
ALL I GOTTA
SAY
IS
FUCK YOU WORLD
WHO LOVES YOU. BABY?

ARROGANT BASTARD

I ALWAYS SAY
AN INTELLIGENT
PERSON
WILL
SEE THAT
QUALITY
IN ME.
AND NOT BE JEALOUS.

SOON WE WILL

by Randall Rogers

SOON WE WILL
BE MAKING
LAWS, CONTRACTS,
ETC., WITH
TIGERS
BEARS
‘COS THEY’LL BE
MORE RATIONAL
THAN WOMEN & MEN
AND SEIGFRIED
AND ‘OLE ROY
WILL BE
‘’CONFLICT RESOLUTION’’
EXPERTS/NEGOTIATORS
MAKNG SURE THE
BEASTIARIUM
DO NOT
KILL
THE BEAST.

Duet

by Randall Ragers

I. There's Times

There’s times to dream
And time to get down to work
Thank God they are
Both combined being
A poet.

II. Without Drugs

The lie of life is
That without
A positive
Gene outlook
Outlook on
Life
Antidepressants
Don’t work
And most all of all
Of the thing is a bummer.
Illegal drugs, that is.
Smile therapy
You grinning fool
Is more effective!
And a whole lot
More cheaper than
The fucking drug companies
And the fucking psychiatrists.

HEY YOU!

by Randall Rogers

JUST YOU STAY IN
YOUR BRAIN AND FREAK
OUT AND I'LL BE
IN MINE DOING THE SAME.
UNLESS I GO
OUT FROM MY HEAD
AND BODY
FOR A WHILE or permanantly
INTO PEARLY MISTS
OF A CONSCIOUS
SUB - SEMI - UNCONSCIOUSNESS
CONSCIOUSLY
EXPLORING THAT
''MIDDLE EARTH''
REGION

FOLKS SPOKE OF AND BELIEVED IN
BEFORE
TECHNOLOGICAL-SCIENTIFIC DEVELOPMENTS
SPAWNED THE FLYING SUACERS,
UFOs, ALIEN ABDUCTIONS,
ANAL PROBINGS
AND THE PLACE
WHERE WE SIT DRINKING
AND READ THIS NOW.

DREAM

by Randall Rogers

I DREAM
OF YOU,
AND MY DEAD MOTHER.

WHEN I DREAM
YOU THIS BOLT
OF REGRET-DESPERATION
AND -- IT-COULD HAVE BEEN-
SO MUCH BETTER-
MAYBE EVEN PERFECT
FOR MINUTES--I SUPPOSE
THE FEELING

INFECTS
MAKES ME SICK.
LOVESICK.
SOMETIMES FOR THREE,. FOUR DAYS OR MORE
AND I DON'T ENJOY LIFE
IN FACT, I WANT TO DIE.
OR HAS IT BEEN ME WHLE LIFE THIS WAY?

AND, STRANGE,

WE PARTED
HAVE NOT
SEEN NOR KNOWN NOTHING
OF ONE ANOTHER
SOME FORTY YEARS NOW!!!

IN MOM DREAMS I ALWAYS WANT
TO GO WITH HER
BUT SHE SAYS I CAN'T.

THE RETURN HOME OF CHIEF SMOKING MOCCASIN

by Randall Rogers

I TOLD THEM
THE TREES ON THE GREAT PLAINS
LOOKED LIKE
THOSE AIR SAC AVIOLA THINGS
IN MY LUNGS
BEFORE I STARTED (OR FOR MANY YEARS SMOKED).
ONE GUY SAID, WELL,
WE DID HAVE A FIRE WHILE BACK.

FUGUE BY THE TING KNOWN AS RANDALL

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Rave

by Randall Rogers

to beer or not to beer, that is the question, ah, each morning upon awakening, then the whiskey, herb, pill and - brace injection(s) question and of course what dosage level especially for the injection(s) size ( big syringe or small, many few one bib daddio, depends on the day the morning the sharp things put away, or not, questions as reading and writing, internet porn with total hand party focus, music and amplified blowém the full watts tonight, or dare i say it, some type of jj cale-rasta-tulsa-take it easy-the joker billy mac being that detective type really nirvana guttural belch of pretty hell sort of. yes i would agree that could sum my nanosecond changing untuned cheap chinese string growl, sometimes, or delta albino sound. always said i was an albino in a white-black man's transgendered or do i love the she/he thing? as one often hears me not described. i could only hope for such assholaids. i do have one fan though. genius that younger man shall we call him? or Beast? none other than my only fan (i mean me a fan of him and even his so-called work, poetry that would be unless ya been off the planet gramdma!!!), the moldbreaker, head spore himself, or herself (i suppose it depends on the night), chris butler. truly a hidden talent as he had the vision insight and scatological imagination to, well, not really ''get'' my poems as if they are at all nor where? ah chris is a genius for finding me, telling me he is a fan (my first and so far only - and surely he'll see through or leave the sheepless flock i shepherd, as heston as moses, in the ten commandos? but left he has not. his genius must has an is/will now flowering into a cultural revolution. all against ts elliot and that interminable ''what's he talkin'' ''bout willis?'' wasteland poem and that assholes ted hughes. the one who murdered sylvia. yes as this younger though much worse - and better - man than myself, he found or emailed and proclaimed him (or her) self a fan, of me, or of my writing i would gather building up to the personality malstruction from there, and than just snapping like a jonestown five-glasser before he, or she, shot that sarah palin jim jones in the noggin (as one should and would not deceive of doing - no many how many voices, how many angela lansburys, as mom? said so? this all too shall be considered though may not whence thyne gesturious fingers...mmm..well print and of course natch get me fame and freer stuff than i already pay for. i think. sound good to you?

SPOKEN OF COWARD

by Randall Rogers

ONLY THING REALLY WORTH
LIVING FOR
IS DYING.
AND THOSE TWILIGHT ZONE EPISODES
YOU MISSED.

BECAUSE

GIVEN THE CONDITIONS
OF THE DAY, YEAR, MOMENT OR HOUR,
ARE ALWAYS RIPE FOR

SPONTANEOUS SUICIDE!!! YIKES!
COME
TO THE
NO PANIC BAR.
OR EXPRESS YOUR INSECURITIES
WITH THOSE PREYING
ON YOUR KIND
UPSTAIRS

AT THE PANIC ATTACK BAR & GRILL
AND THE RASTA ROOST RESTAURANT.

WHO QUOTETH A BIRD?

by Randall Rogers

OF ONE THING I AM SURE
NEVERMORE
WILL I ALLOW A DRUNKEN
CROW TO FLY AROUND MY
HOME

NOR AGAIN WILL THEY FIND ME
BLOODY AND PUKING
CURBSIDE IN THE GUTTER
DYING, THEN DEAD

SAYING AMONG THE CRITICAL ACCLAIM
HE WAS A GREAT WRITER
AND YOU KNOW THEY THINK AND ARE ALONE
SO MUCH
WELL,
THEY ALMOST HAVE TO DRINK
OR SMOKE
TO STOKE THE CREATIVE FIRES
INSPIRATION
GET IT DOWN FAST FLOWING
THE PROSE WRITING THE AUTHOR
MUSIC PLAYING YOUR WRITING OR TYPING HAND(S)
HEMINGWAY DRANK WHILE HE WROTE
SO DID BUKOWSKI
AND ALL THOSE ALCOHOLICS LIKE CHEEVER
KEROUAC
SINCLAIR (MIRACLE HE MADE IT TO SIXTY SIX THEY SAY) LEWIS
FITZGERALD
RIMBAUD
DYLAN THOMAS
CHRISTOPHER HITTCENS?
ALL NOTORIOUS DRUNKS
HOW MANY OF THEM ACTUALLY
WROTE DRUNK OR LIKE CHEEVER I THINK
HE WOKE UP EARLY AND CLOCK WATCHED WRITING
UNTIL TWELVE NOON THEN THE SQUEAK OF THE LIQOUR CABINET OPENING
WOULD SING ALL AFTERNOON AND INTO THE NIGHT
I THINK HE STOPPED WRITING TO DRINK
THESE OTHER ALCOHOLICS I WOULD THINK WOULD HAVE TO BE
DRUNK OR HUNG OVER WHILE WRITING SOME OF THEIR WORKS
EVEN IF THIS WAS NOT THEIR ESTABLISHED WRITING ROUTINE
LIKE ME RETURNING HOME DRUNK FROM THE BAR AND WHIPPING OUT
SEVEN TO TEN POEMS
THE IDEAS WORD SOUND SING TRUE OR ODD
COOL
NAILING THE POEM
LIKE A TEENAGE CHINESE DIVER
OR GYMNAST
LIKE A GANDY DANCER HAMMERS A RAILROAD TIE SPIKE
LIKE THE NAILS THROUGH JESUS’ WRISTS AND ANKLES
THE BLULLETS FIRED INTO GHANDI’S SLIM FRAME
THE GRENADES AND FULSADE LET LOOSE ON SADAT
BOOTH BLASTING LINCOLN’S NOGGIN
AND KENNEDY’S LURCHING ABOUT LOSING HIS HEAD

(AND WHAT ABOUT THAT LOYAL WIFE SCAMPERING OUT OF THE CAR IN SUCH A FRENETIC HIS-HEAD’S-GONE-AND-I’M-OUT-OF-HERE UNLADYLIKE CLAMBERING OUT THE BACK OF THE CONVERTIBLE, ‘A PUSHING SECRET SERVICE GUYS OUT OF HER WAY AS SHE SELFISHLY LIKE A CORNERED CAT SHE CLAWED HER WAY TO WHAT SHE THOUGHT MIGHT BE SAFETY. HOW UNSEEMLY TO FIGHT SO DESPERATELY FOR LIFE? SHE COULD HAVE “STOOD BY HER MAN” AND OFFERED UP HER CRANIUM FOR BLASTING TOO. HER SELFISH SCAMPER TO PRESERVE HER LIFE AFTER HER HUSBAND’S HEAD EXPLODED LIKE A SMASHED WATERMELON INTO PIECES WAS JUST DOWNRIGHT UN FIRST LADY LIKE!)

ARRANGED WORDS
AS DEADLY AND DANGEROUS
ENLIGHTENING AND FUN
AS THE AUTO BIOGRAPHY OF MALCOLM X
OR JOEY: PORTAIT OF A HIT MAN
THE BOOK AND MOVIE THE GODFATHER
THE ANARCHIST'S COOKBOOK
AND ALL THE METH AND HOW TO MAKE HOMEMADE DRUGS
SITES NOW ON THE INTERNET
COMBINED WITH THE GREAT FOR FREE PORN
TIME AND PRIVACY ENOUGH FOR A SMOKE AND
A GOOD INTERNET KINK DRIVEN WANK
TO SUM, SHORT POEMS, INAPPROPRIATE OR TABOO
SUBJECT MATTER, MADE SEMI PALATABLE
INTERESTINGLY PUT
AND EASY TO UNDERSTAND
FOR IDIOTS WHO ACTUALLY GO
FOR BUKOWSKI’S DRIVEL
LIKE ME

THE CHARLATAN HAPPINESS

by Randall Rogers

LEARN TO LIVE WITH THIS
AND LESS.
THAT IS THE WHOLE OF THE LAW.
IN THE HERE, NOW, PRESENT, PAST
AND FUTURE (CONTINUOUS?)
WHICH JUST MAY NOT TOO EXACTLY
NOR NOT
THOUGH MAYBE
MIGHT BE
YOU
OR WHOM YOU SHOULD OR COULD HAVE BEEN OR WILL BE
THOUGH AGAIN MAYBE TOO
YOU
NOR NOT YOU
WILL FOREVER
BE?
WHATEVER.

THERE ARE

by Randall Rogers

SATAN STREETS,
TO GUIDE YOU

SATIN STREETS
MANHATTAN SHEETS
AND
ALLEYS PAVED
WITH FOOL’S GOLD
-THAT’S AMERICA,
THE USA.
JUST TO INFORM
YOU DREAMING WOULD-BE
IMMIGRANTS – OR SHIT HELP US YOU TERRORISTAS
IF YOU’SE ALL IS STILL
GOT THE NOTION
ALREADY DONE PAID THE SMUGGLERS
TO GET YOU AND YOURS
ILLEGALLY OR, HELL, LEGALLY,
INTO THIS FINE
ALWAYS BEEN
ALWAYS WILL BE
FLAWED BUT GREATEST
NATION - AND PEOPLE –
ON THIS PRISON-PLANET
HELL
Y’ALL CALL EARTH.

BECAUSE NOWADAYS,
AS THE SOCIAL PHILOSOPHER TYPES
TENURED OR NOT,
ARM-CHAIR
OR ACTUALLY READ A BOOK
AND – LORDY, LORDY - ACTUALLY FINISHED IT
LAST YEAR
IF YOU IS
THIS PERSON YOU ARE
NOT,
I REPEAT NOT
DEFINITELY OUT
NOR IN
THE CLUB.

C’MON
JUST PUT A LITTLE
VAPOR
IN YOUR GAS/ASS
AND KEEP LOOKING
AND THINGS STILL
IN THE END
AND ON
THE WAY
MOST OR ALL, REALLY,
WILL DEFINITELY
NOT BE ALRIGHT.
NOR EVEN NEAR SO.
WHY?
BECAUSE YOU LIE!
AS YOU HAVE BEEN TOLD – NO - FORCED,
HAD IT CRAMMED
THE DAMN TRUTH
OR WHAT THEN NOR NOW OR FUTURE PAST
WHAT PASSED AS IT
AND WAS
IN TURN
PASSED ON TO,
DEVELOPING THE WHOM YOU THINK IS THE FAKE
AND SPURIOUS REAL
YOU,
OF THE WHO WHAT WHERE WHEN HOW AND HOW MUCH/MANY
ANSWERS
TO DEFINE POOR LITTLE OLD YOU.
BOO-HOO-HOO.
AH SHIT AGAIN?

HELP! DINGOS, AH...NO...
-- VAPOUROUS GASES RAPED MY DAUGHTER(S)!!!
NAME?
WHY THE NAME’S MARY
THE VIRGIN MARY
JOE TOLD THE DETECTIVES.
REPEATEDLY.
UNTIL THEY BELIEVED.

SPECIAL K

by Randall Rogers

SPECIAL K KREATES
BLOATED
DIMENSION DRIFTS
AND PERSONALLY INFLICTED BLOOD BATH-LIKE
PERSONAL WOUNDS
WHEN YOU DO THAT FIRST - OR THOSE AFTER
THAT FIRST -
ONE (OR MANY,MANYMORE) TOO BIG A SHOT.
AND OFF YOU
-OR WHAT WAS YOU-
GOES.
CAREFUL, KIDS, AND ADULT OLD WOMEN AND MEN
TRANSVESTITE AND TRANSSEXUAL
PSYCHONAUT CURIOUS-IN-YOUR-CHAIR-AT-HOME
OR WITH GOOD FOLKS, SLOW NOW YOU RISK-TAKER JOURNEYING, LEARNING, GROWING,
OLD HIPPIE OR ‘’THE RECEPTORS ARE THERE!!!’’
MIGHT AS WELL
TYPE
THINKERS & ACTORS
WIDE WORLD OVER
AND BEYOND.
TO ONE AND ALL
ALIKE,
I SAY THIS;
BE CAREFUL,
THAT’S SOME POWERFUL SHIT.