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Friday, October 1, 2021

All The Madwomen (Shock Corridor)

Creeping up a dark crooked staircase pushing on a large steel door
opened up to a cracked linoleum floor it was a roomful of women
all the madwomen
one sat in a rocking chair singing lullabies to a doll with no eyes
and one arm missing
another laughed hysterically at me, choking on her laughter
tears rolling down her face in cascades of pain

Hearts and hard-ons scrawled all over the walls
boys’ names scrawled in crayons HARRY ADAM DAVID CHUCK
correction: ADAM was scratched out with the scrawl FUCK HIM
a girl stared into nowhere tearing hair from her head
whispering He Loves Me He Loves Me Not
the little black one baring her teeth at me pushing me in the back
hissing I’m sick of your shit ya hear?


The cracked window high above pouring broken light into the gloom
there was the blonde who slapped me over and over, yelling
a few clawed between their legs vigorously rubbing their vaginas
bright red raw ‘n mangling their breasts
as their tongues mechanically rolled around their lips, drooling
moaning like cows in an abattoir

The room heated up and manic musk filled the room
they moved in and circled all around me
pushing me down and grabbing my sex kissing and licking and biting me
like piranhas, a swirling maelstrom of hair and teeth
I screamed and screamed
the last thing I heard was Daddy I love you


Friday, September 3, 2021

The Figurehead

I have walked slowly away from the jeers and ridicule of others. They follow behind me, throwing trash and their feces kept in sacks, screaming obscenities at me. They have tied cans around my testicles which scrape against the pavement as I walk. It would be foolish to expect anything from everyone otherwise. I’ve seen the films. I’ve heard the stories.

I’m heading to the ocean and a few of them are dropping off. Walking patiently to the sea where I’ll feel real. In the beginning God created a blue ocean of water below and a blue ocean of air above. Everything blue.

The rabble has slowly dissipated to a couple of drooling idiots who follow behind like babbling cretins, mumbling and cursing me, some not even knowing my name. Just kidding. None of them really know me. None of them even know my name.

Hypnotically walking to the harbor, the small port. There’s a boat I remember and I climb the bow like a spider. The drooling idiots urinate all over each other and collapse into a purple seizure, swallowing their tongues.

I lie on top of the bow, mounting it like an erotic clutch. I feel my limbs harden then petrify and I am now a figurehead. I have grown wings and fins both. My hair dangles like seaweed and cold sea green water courses through my veins. I no longer belong to heaven or hell because I belong to Poseidon. His misfit child.

The boat embarks from the harbor and I can smell the salt air, the cold waves lapping against my long, slender legs. The wind is fresh and rippling around me. Sea gulls circle around screaming like hysterical old wives. Sailors run around setting sails and lifting anchors. Tattoos of feet running around the deck, keeping busy.

Quietly in the distance I can hear mens voices behind me talking about women they've loved. Women they've left behind. Laughing. Lying. Laughing.

For awhile the ship rocks in a flicker ring of light and color, one minute sunny and clear, the next all cloudy and harder waves rocking the ship. I look down and see a jungle of marine life passing around me. The whales. Sea lions. The dolphins. Octopus. The sharks.

If I died like…people, they would have to burn me and sprinkle my ashes all over the sea. The very first thing God created. Land was an afterthought. People were just an afterthought.

My body points the way ahead into the deep blue sea. The waves reach out and caress my legs as King Neptune greets me. The clouds quietly part to let the sun come in and greet me again. When it gets dark the moon and the stars will show us the way. Next stop Athens.

Friday, August 20, 2021

HOT WIRE MY HEART Punk Noir Potboiler OUT NOW!

Hot Wire My Heart is now available for your entertainment and continues my string of punk noir novels, which include Every Good Boy Dies First and Every Bitch For Himself. It’s a punk take on Sweet Smell of Success, a whirlwind ride through the 1978 San Francisco punk scene through the eyes of gossip columnist Dante Sterno. He dishes out all the dirty gossip on all the local punk heroes and heroines for Ripoff Magazine, a cheap local zine.

Dante’s pursuit for more and more dirt on popular rockers in the scene becomes more and more shameless and scurrilous as the book goes on, and it finally reaches a point where his dirty scoops catch up with him. To ensure his survival he hires the services of car thief and protection thug Big Jason Gulliver, back again from Every Bitch For Himself (which chronologically follows this novel).

Big Jason provides some much-needed protection but unfortunately raises the ire of a prominent politician, who in turn contracts rival car thieves and gunmen to liquidate Jason. In between the action there’s lots of sex, violence and hardcore punk. There’s even room for a roller derby match in between all the skull cracking.

The character of Big Jason was based on a real punker I knew, a tough, amoral thug – Irish, of course – a cross between Lawrence Tierney and Matt Dillon. He really did protect people, sometimes for money but mostly for the thrill of kicking assholes around. A man like that is instant gold for noir; a thug who’s capable of making any kind of trouble is as noir as it gets.

Hot Wire My Heart, named after a Crime song, was a chance for me to reminisce about the old days of San Francisco punk, a scene that many of us Southern California punks would trek up the coast periodically to enjoy. San Francisco punk was more art damaged than LA punk, beneficial because it resulted in less aping the London scene, which LA sometimes indulged a bit much.

Bands like The Avengers, The Offs, Crime, UXA and The Sleepers made art on their own terms. Since the average punk audience back then was so small there wasn’t a lot of money to be made, resulting in no need for compromise and creating the most original and exciting punk of that era. I hope Hot Wire My Heart recaptures some of the energy of those electrifying San Franciscan nights.

Hot Wire My Heart retails for only $3.99 and can be bought at these eBook retailers:

Amazon Kindle:

Apple Books:

Barnes & Noble Nook:

Kobo (Canada):


BookBaby Bookstore:

Thursday, June 17, 2021

The Heartbreak Playlist

Well, there she goes again…another song about me…how I broke her heart…the story she never gets tired of telling…just think, she’ll be singing this song about my cruelty all over the country, all over the world…hey, Dallas, I broke someone’s heart…hey, Baltimore, I broke someone’s heart…today her heart, tomorrow Tokyo…then there’s the other one…she wrote that one about me lying to her…my love was lies…so she said…all the girls in the club cry along with her…that’s me, chrome-hearted Romeo…Chromeo…your heartbreak is filthy lucre…selling millions of units, didn’t you…talking about my cold, cold heart…you cashed in with your broken heart…other fellas moved in but I was song-worthy, yeah?...here’s another one about that prick who lied…he lied…I died…thank you, for my next number this one’s about that asshole again…you’re too kind…back stage all the new boyfriends get pulled like little marionettes…while I recline in my leather loveseat…the cad clad in black…I’ve never done good things…I’ve never done bad things…I’ve never done anything out of the blue…

Cockroach Shoes

See me walkin’
pair of cockroach shoes
brown crinkled leather
long antennae kicks

When I walk
it makes sounds
castanets cast a net
christ Annette

La cucarachas
clicking down the concrete
the pavement ‘n apartments hear
cockroach shoes

‘N christ Annette
clicking clicking
christ it’s sickening

Wednesday, March 3, 2021

The Hell of Administration

Years ago I worked for local govt.
i'd take my aft. break
standing in front
of the Steppes
of the Hall of Administration
suit and tie
smoking on a big cigar
ragmop cigar
reading the Bible
chuckling to myself
Book of Isaiah
across the street from the
Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels
Temple Street to be x-act
kids getting off the bus
staring at me
the Devil's sparkle-headed boy
the all-time fallen angel
with a
big swingin' dick
and smokin' one too
fuck you