Archive for the for Blue Bike reading Category

no-name poem-ring

Posted in best of GJK, for Blue Bike reading, poems 2010 with tags , , , , on September 18, 2010 by GJK




[dj spooky is flowing from the speakers]


within the pen-named ego-aura of gjk

i let it all go

i let it all float away

there’s that tenor sax i’ve been wanting

there’s that beat man

that beat man

that beat woman over there

knows what is what

and what ain’t worth her time

there’s that bass that upright bass

those finger-plucked notes of tones

of tomes of pomes of books of jazz

yas yas yas

there’s a nod to the jack kerouac-e

(hear it as jack care-oh-wacky)

madness spookiness angels and light

and dark and paved moons of planets of suns

of systems of galaxies

holy moses holy cow holy god holy human holy

john coltrane was right

‘n’ what i’m talkin’ ’bout is

outta this world

set the controls for

the heart of all hearts

the mythic hart of old

that cannot be slain by those arrows that

that blowhard shakespeare was writing about

oh what am i saying middle english is oww-right

but i am here and now motherlovers

brotherlovers sisterlovers fatherlovers



and then silence and the knowing that

there too is darkness and death and all that

horrid chaos of greed and

oh shit here i am reeling myself in again

i’m a fish on my own hook


fighting for breath

this isn’t a joke this is me dreaming


inside the words the type-e-writer

the visual prattling the poetic imaginings

of a vagabond-turned-home-body

oh my people

can you see me

can you hear

annie i think this is the poem you’ve been waiting

for me to write

all the stuffing-down of laughter

the choking-back tears

the visions the realities it was compressed

for so long all that putrid self-loathing has lifted

the smog is separate from the fog

the mist the voice of tree

and corn and blacktop and oh hell

every single thing in all my living years has led me


the music is long gone

i am utterly alone in this room

my back aches but that’s nothing

it’s not like i’m bearing a child anytime soon

yes bless them

but back to me

and my muse here in the next room

my lover-healer

the one that married me

here is my dreaming

my vision of the world

oh it’s way too big to ever see all of it

those astronauts amaze but what about the deep

the cavernous seas

now there’s that beat i see maus nodding

in time

out of time

i’m two years late

and ten dollars short

my pits stink

sweat drips down my back

but my crack is safe

me drawers will absorb that salt

from that noodle

from that place where people go to eat

to not die

thanks be to the cooks and ovens

of the world of this here state

of this town

and now i slow down

been holdin’ my breath forgot to breathe damnit

hold on easy now boy

what am i

a horse


i be a water carrier.

you thirsty you call me

be you woman or man or canine or feline

call on me the water is clean

all praises be

the water is clean.



5 AUGUST 2010, 3:04am



Posted in best of GJK, for Blue Bike reading, poems 2002 with tags , , , , , , on September 8, 2010 by GJK

gotta get past the world

surpass the horizon

gotta fly away

on wings

i suppose

i must summon

from the beyond

gotta leap to the moon

and further

amidst the stars

gotta mechanize

a way

an alternate


gotta fabricate

a new infinity

in which

to reside

gotta dive

into the deep

gotta mutate

gotta dig to the core

become a molten being

summon forces

that will reform

the earth

gotta get past this world

gotta invent genius

and dream that

everything is



— — —


— — —

even her

Posted in best of GJK, for Blue Bike reading, for Jingle et. al., poems 2010 with tags , , , , on September 6, 2010 by GJK




they are all guilty.

guilty of misleading


even her.

even my lovely

lovely wife

has been


he’s not right

they all said

about me.

he has an illness

called bipolar




and there is nothing wrong

with that.

we all hurt

we all have problems

so what if mine

appears in the DSM catalogue

of misnomers …

phuck you, doc.

i’m fine.

and thanks fer all the drugs.

you’re a doctor

you’re a dealer

and i use the zy-prex


it’s phun to trip

so which one of us

has been mislead?


ha ha ha

the joke

is on






calling all nomad poets

Posted in best of GJK, for Blue Bike reading, poems 2010 with tags , , , , , on September 3, 2010 by GJK
this is a continuation of “Plea”
(by me), which was published
 in the UW-Marinette Arts Journal
Northern Lights (2005)





these are not words,

they are realities

we very much need

now and here

and always

and everywhere…

and here

is where i rant

against wrong-thinking,

the psycho-babel

that keeps us all

in fear

of everything

in distrust

of everyone

in loathing

of our selves

and here

is where

i begin

the letting go…



mi madre,

that sage teacher

who i love

and respect

is, at times,

a hyper-attentive


and this concerns


because she too

has been lied to

by the psycho-babel


and she, being a mom,

tends to over-react

every time i under-react

so, if we understand balance

and The Middle Way,

we should be able to

get together to

find the essential pivot

that will bring

peace-of-mind to bear

in our inter-connected


so here

is where we begin

with all of our lives


manifesting harmony

which is


of Tao…







September, 2010

write like a ____

Posted in best of GJK, for Blue Bike reading, poems 2010 with tags , , , , , , on August 30, 2010 by GJK


go baby go

says my bro

that muthafucka

wuz right

when years ago he said

if you wanna be a writer

just be a writer

and what he meant wuz

stop yer bitching

and write

write like yr life depends on it

and it duz…

it really does.



in the flesh

in the mind

in the spirit

it is one

and me is poet

there’s no way around it.

god knows i have tried

to be other things

but writer is

the only true me

once when i told a____ that

i got a day job

she said

why did you

give up?

(cuz i needed money)

but i knew what she meant

and what she meant was

don’t ever put your pen down

don’t ever hang it up

pack it in

roll over and die

don’t you ever leave me

all alone out here in the wasteland

that’s what she meant

and now

here i am

with her on my index finger

my best woman-friend

who isn’t my wife

my best encourager

(other than Yello)

my one-of-four great emboldeners

it’s all about the word

the flow




and me

and Maus,

the first one to truly

love me


set me


now he’s in Colorady

and Yello is here,

in the next room,

just being she

and me here, typing,

being me.



GJK (29 August 2010)




line by line

Posted in best of GJK, for Blue Bike reading, poems 2009 with tags , , , on August 24, 2010 by GJK

my only courageous act

is now

to put pen to paper

to write

this is trite

and easily dismissed

by many and by myself

but the truth is

it’s been over a year

since i’ve allowed myself

to bleed.

i’m drinking

watching a PBS program

about volunteers that greet


a program

about the goddamned wars

about the wretched and beautiful ones

who, for whatever reason

have given themselves over

to the choice

to become the walking dead

so i have no reason

or excuse for having

avoided my self

and this horrid


for so long.

on the screen

is some old geezer

giving his waning days

and nights

to women and men who

insist upon calling him


but all he wants to do

is share some smokes and bullshit

over coffee in a snowstorm

in the shadow

of some podunk airport


i feel selfish and small

to feel so joyous and grand

for this effort,

this pittance of craft.

this tiny poesy

is mean

and crude

and, by outer observance,



– but i must remain proud

  in this moment

  regaining my self

  line by line.






thank you mr. oldham

Posted in best of GJK, for Blue Bike reading, poems 2010 with tags , , , , , , , , on August 19, 2010 by GJK

so this guy walked into my house 

with this woman and he sort of

hugged her then fell on top

of her on my couch

and started to

dry hump her

he was a friend of mine,

you see, and she

i had just met

for the first time

and we,

i mean he and i,

had been drinking

good old domestic beer

and she a bottle of wine

out in the yard,

feasting on hot dogs

popcorn and whatnot

and when it was near dark

we all went inside.

i walked into my own house

and saw this man

on top of this woman

they were laughing

i was laughing

there was rageful music

blasting from the speakers

then, as they were play-hump-wrestling

something happened and she said

oww yer hurting me.

the laughter stopped

and he said he was sorry

and i turned the music down

a little

and quickly


settled down.

someone picked out

less angry music

and it was back

to all grins

all around.

this friend of mine

is one of the kindest

and most thoughtful souls

i have ever met,

and so full of joy


and empathetic

to boot.

this just goes to show you

how even a pacifistic


can get carried away

once in a while,

if the time and place

is right,

and if the hurting

really was accidental,

which it was.

and, after all,

i had said to both of them

my house

is your house.