don't ask me who ...

(cokehead)

on the balcony , i watched the lightning fly through the skies of
jersey some 30 something miles away...

depth perception , wild eyed dimension

this was that kind of heaven -
simple semi enclosure , front row shelf -
generous portion pie slice of the world

don't ask me when ..

( reagan just saved the planet )

i was starry eyed by the warring sky...
but somewhere subtle in my head , i was digesting information at
a rapid pace -

where was the responsible supervision really ? ( really?)

exposure was all it was ...

little sudden introductions ...

little spoons , snipped short straws , complex vitamin strategies ,
kenya safari van owned by the hippie stoop solo informant

an informant for an authority without souls

he whispered a codeword ( probably something rediculous like misused
san francisco hipspeak ) and the cops who weren't policing would descend upon
target and fucking kill everyone and everything

kids were there

i was a kid

but those kids got their brains blown out execution style ( mistake proof professional ),
and everything was gone and everything was removed , then reality was replaced with
conspicuous clues pointing actual dead fingers at some columbian slice of
instant gangland fiction ( fictperfectionists )

and there were kids there ...
kids wearing puma baskets and wondering about 4th grade urgencies

kids like me

i wore them and wondered about what things meant...
i still wonder

see , there's always a second economy -
there's a cost structure to everything -
an invisible world behind seemingly simple things
but for every action , there's a profitable reaction , please
understand this .... there is at this time , nothing on earth that moves
without being pushed -
there are no real accidents ...
and once and for all , guns don't kill people , money does , influence does,
people do
the kids weren't killed by guns , they were splattered all over the living
room by opportunity
a forced eclipse

it could've been me
get me?
i was there -
looking at the thunderclash ( or maybe distant powderflash) from a balcony that
was merely an offshoot of an aforementioned possibility
the possibility of the whole apartment being turned into a pollock nightmare...
splash - splash , but - red , red , red ( he could never do all reds - pollock -, he knew what it
would be - slaughterhouse - he wouldn't allow that to happen from his hands , from
his thoughts - slaughterhouse - he couldn't show that was inside him )


the coke was in the closets - hidden ...

don't touch the fucking scale

the scale was out and always left in exactly the same place - it was
believed that would give the appearance of consistency - to show , all was well -
the scale would have to be moved to be tampered with so , ....

don't touch the fucking scale


this is so long ago ,


the iranian hostages ( fuck iran ) were released over our publc address system -
we celebrated like overjoy , because our new president was a baddass whom
those other than us types were desperately afraid of

there was nothing at that point to see through ...
we were freedom's bund

we say ... fuck your olympics
we fly planes in space
our ICBM's go faster .... we will watch you burn

the tension was fuel ,
that's all ...
just a heightened awareness -
we were fine


i think we were fortunate enough to predate the video and
computer explosion

we sold iced tea in our front yards , at way below cost
we dug holes in our backyards , and found things very lost

the mushroom clouds we'd imagined were of our own final design

the bright pacific sunglass testing versions were so pale , and of
course we knew better than to think hiroshima went black
then white

we knew it was more

kids today - really -
they know too much
their worries are deflated by having seen annihilation from
far too many camera angles

like jaws got less scary

( fear is a dead priviledge it seems )


evil is a jalopy

those shoots pushed under those fingernails 60 years
ago were cinematic
hitler was a number crunching clown

dead priviledge

atari was just the first bullet shot through the only gland that
excretes the sixth sense chemical - the microdose touch that lets you
feel a little truth , and imagine for yourself ...
how bad " horrible" really is

horrible must be the sulfer smell at 3am with the splintered crashing ,
still resounding through the house .... the flash and pop of small arms fire,
downstairs and coming up .... the barking of orders , and your parent's
screams of compliance..... watching the wall board ripped of the studs,
puffs of gypsum dust with mustiness and woodchip filled fiberglass
" WHERE ARE THE FUCKING BAGS !"
everything is shredded , you can't see a thing


they keep talley's on serial killers to make bar graphs and show
exactly where humanity's worst elements are doing their chores ...
they tint their faces or polish their teeth in photographs engineered
to occupy , or frighten certain segments


bark , bark

there is a measurable portion of society that won't go out after dark ,
simply because there's nothing there for them...
another measure would show the portion who would stay indoors out of
fear
fear of the unscary volkswagon with a handsome devil at the wheel -
fear of fellows that will eat you ....
fear of monsters

sheep turn and dash , driven by fear of the dog
the dog is the monster that will most certainly eat them if they don't
stick close to the protection of the herd
( actually , sheep are most often surprised that this tactic works , their
whole lives pass before their eyes , countless times a day )


bark , bark , bark


monsters are there , stick close , please preciously close
to the herd

faith
in whatever form
has never failed as a tool

it never stopped being effective at keeping us in tight ,
shaking , quaking groups


fear and it's effect


i was before fear
the sick scenes were being played out everywhere but where i was
but he was there
i saw him without knowing a thing
he was never on the news , and was never featured in a
deck of cards , but the body count was in the scores
i rode in his zebra striped dodge van , i fascianted at his gotee,
he made jokes that i laughed at loudly
he was a dirty connection....

he made coke deals happen ....
serious marijuana / cash exchanges also
he brought people together with his dissarming
awkwardness , eccentricity , his - loopishness
he put money , and massive quantity in the same place ,
at the same time
arrangements
he'd then say the word into a transceiver , and the collectors would
converge on the scene

he said a word , and became invisible

he befriended people in order to kill them , and take what they had

i was there , my supervision was befriended by him

but for reasons unknown , he never said the word that would
kill us

the quantity was there , the money was there
some unknown barrier was there too

i was the kid , cut up by the broken shells on the beach,
swimming , bleeding , oblivious , that the shark passes right by

i don't even know it , until the next kid is cut in half

nothing is clear until someone gets torn apart

a murderer made me laugh , i don't remember what was
so funny , as i remind myself that nothing ever was

even when you're good at being afraid , as we were back then ,
you can't smell your own blood through your skin
that's left to the sharks of opportunity
the dogs you can't see

they don't bark
they don't even get indicted


there is no moral to this story
nor is there any exaggeration
stick close to the herd
their camoflauge works