RE: the actors

But as an actor on this plastic stage
with all the hype and confusion
and all the ignorance that has
taken the place of personality
Froths up like warm beer
and the foam gets in the eyes
it blurs the sight
and all that is known is direction
shouted from the side
acting blind on some near jerk reactions
stupefied beyond belief
and no this isn't a state
that was work to during the day
we wake up this way
its become a reality
of our own stupidity
only generations of ignorance
could make us this deranged

A Change of Profession

I would never make a good house keeper
its not that I am lazy
it just I don't think of it
I don't see it
It doesn't register
My mind and my interest
lay in other places
with other objectives
or lack there of
But constantly I am admonished
for just being lazy
or a sloth or filthy
okay, level your accusations
keep adherence to your rules and systems
but let me give you some advice
I can tell you a that you
would be happier managing
an office supply store
than calling yourself an artist

Thanks for the hospitality

At the barrel of my gun, on your knees
As I march into this foreign land and declare
I am you friend and not your enemy
So it is true, and so it shall be
As I shoot your sister in the teeth

He sat there not caring for the difference
Two months of uncertainty and pain
were enough to thicken his skin again
All he knew was he didn't give a fuck
But for a few short hours the bottle had always given him luck
So he indulged
but nothing was resolved
the same tired story on a new day
well that is what they say
when there is no distinction
how is that proof
of something new
TV wasn't a cure... drugs
were temporary fun
But at the same time to be an alcoholic
is the lesser of all evils when all is said and done
Some where there was a lie
Some time someone pissed in his eyes leaving him blind
But to no confession he awoke
walking funny to the joke
Gravity to the train of thought
wrecking the higher message sought
well maybe, if it all wasn't a lie
of which there is no guarantee
of which there is nothing to comply
but in the morn, when the head was wrecked
there wasn't much solace to offer
so he took another hit

Hate from all directions
for the sake of over
masculine erections

hate from all sides
cover your face and
try to futilely hide

Hate is the boundary
defining the low man's
inherent stupidity

Hate is all I find
But what can you say
when it comes from inside

measure of use

The invisible hand is easiest to cut
No tales of gore, no evidence before
Even the man stuck in a rut
has more clout that those ignored

And for all effort and all stratagem
And against precepts of Methuselah
When blame is to fall it finds a target
randomly among us all

Ignored and devalued is the practice
Abandoned and discarded like refuse
But that is not the sum
it is not the whole
in times of trouble or excesses
we learn all is expendable
if it fits the greater whim of all

What gets you through the night

hammered once again
he drank like a fish
and didn't know when he began

but the particulars aren't important
its the effect to pursue
to kindle the life that is dormant

and he had no interest in playing nice
just a stubborn insistence
to follow his vice

though tomorrow be difficult
at least at first
the road was wholly differnt
and by measure of drudgery no worse

and he went back for a refill once again

the true believer

he sat there
with his eyes
raised to tomorrow
that never came

he looked to the
infinite power
that never reigned

and when he
stopped weeping
he cleared
the tears

and look ahead
and saw that
everything was in front
not some fantasy
of never been years

and in doing so
he was able to do good
and not just
pad the pocket of fools

there is always one

I sat across from this guy
at work
and he would ask the dumbest questions
he would say the most inane
things

not what you want to hear
when hungover
not what you need when
your blood is curdled

but there was no escape
just grinding teeth
and bitter and stony face

and on it went
ad nauseum
day after day
in a terrible way

with his sticky candied fingers
talking more than working
bluffing bullshit out his ears

but I got away from there
I can't say it was a step up
but I don't care
I still got out of there

Derailed gravy train

I saw the future of tomorrow
and the stars weren't too bright
all given to following
the dimmest of lights

I saw the answers and they were not keen
just a testimate of what could have been
more lost souls and clouded ways
a ghostly reminder to long lost brighter days

I saw the answers and they weren't right
just harbingers of an already lost fight
back in the day when it made sense
somehow we fell off the wrong side of the fence

re: a bad day

Drink the round
its been a hard day
take the edge off
get misery out of the way

Once secure in friendly settings
let go of the mean trappings
let yourself come forth
be it for better or worse

so it has been a hard night
we are all there from time to time
take your shoes off, get your load on
no presumptions made here on

get back to the truth
or at least what it means to you
there are enough troubles ahead
but tonight enjoy yourself before its time for bed

holy repetitions

We carved the old graven images
not because we actually believe in them
its just what we are raised to do

we passed lip service to the dead old deities
not because we thought they would hear us
its just that there is no one else to talk to

we followed the old hollow traditions another year
not that we cared to be doing those things
its just that we pretend there are rules

when a relative dies we give them the holy send off
not because we think they have found peace or are with god
its just the lines we tell ourselves when nothing is true

Public Art

I sat down
on the barstool
fine day isn't it?

yeah... was the answer

shrug it off
old news there
a drink, yes bartender
give me a drink
yes that will work

quiet sips at my drink
look over at the stranger
and he is nursing a beer
down on your luck?

fuck you... well... maybe... what's it to ya?

oh nothing... just an observation
I meant no offense
really

yeah? well... who cares and who asked?

alright, fine
this is an interesting bar
here is some paper I think
I will draw it
not a bad way to spend an hour

what are you drawing?

you wanna know?
why do you care?

what is it?

fuck off

Growing Up

Growing up
in our house
you learned
to say
as little
as possible

you learned
DISCRETION

you learned
TIMING

at your own
human expense

growing up
in our house
you saw the ends
of all wrong

you learned
MISTAKES

you learned
DUPLICITY

growing up was
an awkward time
but very educational
in the end

if you
SURVIVED

with your soul
ENTACT

True Ignorance

He looked up, with that evil eye
"what the fuck are you talking about?"
Though he knew perfectly well
But there is no reasoning with some people

Resolute on the matter I simply said
"that is against the point"
"Bullshit", such eloquence
no reason could sway this defense

It was clear that this wouldn't be
Aristotle's argument
This was anger without difference

A thousand times malice sounds
A thousand times ignorance abounds

So I try even harder, to lay the terms
But even louder come negative words

Fight the world, fight it all
Beat your head on the endless wall

Young and Dumb

When I was young
we had rock fights

one side defending the tree fort
the other on attack

the projectile flew through the air
object known but with little care

on it went for hours on end
damn the intruder, this we must defend

till someone got hit
and blood was shed

all part of the game
the pain was all the same

till the grown ups got involved
go home or your parents will be called

so we scattered like roaches in the light
but all told it was a good night

Poetic observations

The world is on fire, like you didn't know
Forgiveness has transpired, its time to go
And for all our bitterness and greed
Nothing can save us in our time of need

The world is on fire, its been that way for a time
Look to whatever happiness while its still left to find
For all the arrogance, and all the posturing
Doesn't give meaning in time of catastrophe

The world is on fire, but that doesn't mean the end
We can be immortal and posthumously transcend
For all the axes and bombs we blow
The roots go deeper than we seem to know

The world is on fire, close your eyes now
And I will see you again

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Welcome to my gray world
No true light, night or day
Nothing is to be distinguished or told
And there is no hell to pay

Welcome to this life of gray
Lost in a non intoxicating haze
Its all the same to what its worth
Sad fact we get less than what we deserve

Paying exorbitant and high fees
For our lack of belief
Seems what is best for all
Caries the very highest toll

Welcome to this life of gray

-------------------------------------------------------------

So many people with half open ears
Wanting to be told but they don't want to hear
In quiet hours weeping for their defeats
But never having the fortitude to stand on their feet

So many people bewildered and dismayed
Wishing their problems would all just go away
Crying at god and pissing in the wind
Inventing truths just so they can fit in

Tired wills and apathetic avenues
Life is hard but what are going to do?
Piss and moan and stomp your feet
Make demons and gremlins of people on the street

Wasting away in shallow pools of regret
Ask your doctor if its right for you just so you can forget
So many people living in fear
But will never change if if the chance is near

Why I will never be part of "heartland" America

I went to eat lunch at the local diner today, to get out of the house for a bit and the like. It was a horrifying scene. As I sat there looking at the cheese and chest beating displays of patriotism in front of me, I simply thought it was stupid and pathetic. American flags, Jesus loves you lighted word messages, ceramic bald eagles on dear antlers, a "united we stand" banner; the whole nine yards of gross Americana, easy rhetoric for simple minds. That's when I spotted something that really pissed me off.

Just over my shoulder was another ceramic bald eagle but this one was perched atop a confederate flag. It gave me a bad shock, like seeing your fat and old neighbor walk out the door to get his morning paper, but he is only wearing his robe (open) and nothing else. The kind that sends shivers of revulsion and acute agony screaming up your spine and slamming into your brain; permanently scarring the tissue of ones psyche. I wanted to point out what an idiotic display it was, how it made no sense or how it was just such hypocrisy. Do they not understand that the United States actually fought a war with the Confederate States, and that that war left over half a million Americans dead? United we stand? A bald eagle, a symbol of the Union, proudly perched on the rebel saltire proudly displayed (and on sale for $30) amidst all the bullshit propaganda and Jesus Loves Me greetings. It was just too much for an innocent young man such as myself who just wanted a sandwich and some coffee.

I felt something must be said, someone should be made to understand. Like a rock thrown in the dark, the sad reality hit me. Looking around at the fattened and geriatric heard, the slack jawed employees praying for their shift to end, the sad reality was that they do not and would not ever understand such seemingly complex yet simple truisms. This is their reality. This is small town values. Patriotism, jesus, and the greatest symbol of hatred and intolerance this country has known, all rolled into one. Well fuck me, isn't this sweet. These are the kind of people who say gays and liberals are ruining this country. Gee-sonny-boy, they have convinced me that I am wrong. I should learn to live in fear, hate the unknown, and place my trust and faith in dogmatic axioms.

To prop these "god fearing" grassfuckers up as the moral core of this country is an insult to the rest of us us heathens with half a brain. No wonder we have problems. I would say god's mercy on those swine, but if he is on their side, I want nothing to do with him either.

Riding the Rails: Mean tales and majestic landscapes

Rain, goddamn. Seems like every time I travel its pouring rain. I don't know if that is true or not, but it seems that way. The only life stirring at the Amtrak station at four am on a Tuesday morning was a homeless man hustling for cigarettes and loose dollars. Which he claims are for White Castles, but who knows and further more, who cares? Perhaps an explanation is in order on my choice of means for this trip.

When choosing my mode of transportation for a recent trip I had many things to consider. Time, cost, and most importantly; which is the most booze friendly. Given these parameters I chose to take the train. No baggage search, no yuppie fuck head businessman cocksucker sitting beside me. People who take the train are not working on Power Point presentations. They don't check the stock market or the political columns of the paper. These are generally are either the dregs of society or crusty old bastards trying to relive the glory days of their youth. The perfect means of travel if you have plenty of time to kill and wish to stay under the radar of all sorts of mean bastards that regulate interstate travel. With a rucksack loaded with a few changes of clothes and liquor, I awaited my departure time.


"You may use either restroom at the back but I suggest you close the door, unless you want someone to help you out." The commuter train to Chicago was the most foul and heinous of the lot. Delays and slow speeds we toiled the few hundred miles suffering stalled cars on the tracks, dreary skies, and the sight of dozens of grimy small towns in Middle America. More bleak and depressing than the drizzle and cold weather could ever possibly be. This went on for five rotten hours, only slightly rising above the pleasantries of visiting the dentist. No wonder this savage tube was nearly empty.

The wait in Chicago was a rather strange scene. An Amish family gathered in a basement waiting room below one of America's largest city. Like some bizarre invasion of the place by a bunch of country bumpkins from a century past.

The first day pasted quietly and without fanfare, much to my chagrin. Time was spent sitting in the geriatric ward, sipping smuggled whiskey and chewing on beef jerky. It was at an early morning smoke stop on the second day, I discovered where the action was. I was told that in the the evenings the most surly of passengers gathered in the lounge car to trade stories and drinks of smuggled liquor. Fine way to spend an evening, its either that or listen to some shriveled old retiree in front of me snore for 200 miles before I finally knock off to sleep. So I decided to check the place out, get a feel for the action, what's going on. The crowd I was traveling with started in on the beer at about 10am to 12pm. Given the fact we were all hostages in an aluminum torpedo, what else is there to do on a Wednesday? Seeing that I am a civilized individual (read poor) I decided to wait till after my lunch to begin boozing. Unfortunately that meant I missed the glories of drinking in North Dakota; but I was determined to make up for it in Montana.

As the sun began to set, simple conversation began to change its tone. No longer where the awkward utterances of formalities standing in the way. The stowaway booze was beginning to surface. Anticipating the expensive prices of the service car, the savage drunks had planned ahead and in solid abundance (some even making liquor store runs at an extended stop in Havre, Montana). I was one of this crowd. I had packed my own whiskey in a 20oz bottle of tea, using this packaging disguise to throw off the over zealous and over pious. A whole assortment of booze was produced, from beer to bourbon, to vodka and gin; no liver went without punishment of a more refined character. Many gin-soaked stories where traded. From the down on your luck stories to the common "just visiting" tale. Oddly enough, most of this lousy lot was unemployed. My kind of people.

These were the drunken times that would make most of middle America wilt in shame. But what they don't understand is that these are the situations where people from all over in all sorts of walks of life are made equals. Various age groups and backgrounds, gathered around the tables to suck down drinks and enjoy life. All lost in the underworld of booze and free flowing idea exchange.

To marginalize the loss of the majestic view from the windows, we pacified ourselves with spirits. Drinking well into the night, sympathizing with the down trodden, celebrating winnings in poker. Passing various bottles of liquor to appease our appetites. This behavior carried on for some hours. Relaxing in the lounge car with fellow booze hounds and freaks of various natures. Late into this degenerated night the drugs were broken out. Half a dozen people were now both drunk and high from various means of self-medicating. Fortunately for myself, I was of this lot because one woman at the table decided to go on and on in a most depressing fashion. If I was not thoroughly medicated I might have gone insane from such wailing. But I was above all this bad noise, floating comfortably upon the fog that had settled in my head. Time lost meaning in this decadent haze, it is hard to say how long this behavior lasted. Eventually it was time to retire for the night.

Upon waking I was greeted by the sunrise on the Columbia River Gorge. As I stumbled to the lounge car for my morning coffee, the landscape rolled by. The cast once again gathered; re acclimating our senses for the day ahead. In a few short hours Portland, OR was reached. Here we had a few hours of layover, what better time to get drunk?

Ten am we departed from the train. As seeing that I use to live in this city, my knowledge of the local geography was called upon to find a nearby bar that met our criteria; i.e. cheap and where no one notices if you are slamming beers before noon. The Ash Street Saloon fit this bill nicely. Sitting down to round after round, we discussed our ends to this savage journey. My drinking companion was traveling to California to help his sons build a log cabin. Of course this meant he still had more than a day on the train, why not get good and sauced? Nothing better to do anyway. By this time the beer was beginning to have its desired effect, owing to the fact that I had skipped breakfast (and now lunch came in a liquid form).

The tab was paid and we stepped into the bright light of the day. With forty minutes left before the next train was scheduled to leave, it was time to run an errand. Before embarking on the train it was imperative that the liquor stash be replenished. Once again calling on my familiarity with the city we quickly found a liquor store where the goods were to be found. Five minutes later we were well supplied once again, my friend with vodka and me with whiskey.

Still with 20 minutes before boarding time, we stopped over at the bar in the train station. Our orders placed and drinks received, we sucked them down in time to join the line to board the train. Finding my seat, I stowed the old luggage and headed once again to the lounge car. As soon as the service bar was open a few rounds of beer were bought as we continued through the Oregon in lands. I was not going as far as the other heathens that I had been drinking with for the last few days, my stop was only a couple of hours off; but the most was made of the time.

Vodka was promptly produced and many shots were consumed along with our overpriced lounge beers. Very soon all were in the exalted glory of full blown drunkenness. Eye brows were raised at our somewhat unruly behavior, but fuck those uptight bastards. There is life to live and clearly they do not understand that. As the sunset my destination was reached and I swayed back to my seat to collect my belongings . (Is that the movement of the train, or am I just having difficulties walking?) At the station we said our final goodbyes while smoking on the platform.

As they boarded the train I made my way into town to meet up with friends long forgotten. Though beer and whiskey flowed like so much water, it wasn't quite the same as barreling along in a drunken madness through Americas vistas and wastelands. The good times were spelled out by the extent of my stumble and disavowing the obstacle of the walk I had ahead of me. Off to sail the gravy boat down yet another river of whiskey.

Holiday Ramblings

Redneckistan, USA
January 1, 2007

Dear Jesus Christ man, this holiday stuff is beginning to annoy me. All the stupid materialisms and bullshit wrapping paper, tinsel, and all the other cardboard trappings. I tell you, its enough to make any man's , with two feet on the ground, head spin. Serious fear manifested. This year was probably the worst; not enough money to stay throughly drunk, various terrors of family gatherings spread over 3 days, bad food and bad vibes.

I think Rickey got it right in the Trailer Park Boys Christmas Special. To wit- "Christmas isn't about presents and all this other bullshit, its about getting drunk and stoned with your family and loved ones."

Fucking A right, of course. I think that is one of the things that seems so amiss this year: no getting drunk with the family, let alone the possibility of getting stoned. Shit, even when we both had booze my brother just locked himself in his room and played video games; as is his increasing want now days. In my opinion it would have been better times if we sat around getting drunk, smoking the hookah and watching comedy. Perhaps I am just a disillusioned pie in the sky motherfucker, but what can you do? Its a sad scene man, something that surely speaks the degradations of the traditional family holiday. I bet you back in 1500 people were more concerned with getting drunk and feasting than receiving gift cards from Ye Ol' Mutton Shoppe. Its in our blood, the tradition of it all. Seeing my niece react like a little plastic consumer was despicable; doling out her love and attention based solely on the price of the gift. Its sad to see the youth of tomorrow sliding into such a shallow grave. The best Christmas' I have had have been spent getting completely hammered on Christmas Eve, even though we had to get up in four hours after drinking heavily all night.

Sadly New Years this year has been no better. Given my limited liquor budget doesn't help much as well. All friends were out of town or unreachable, liquor stores were closed in this god forsaken state, and there wasn't much food in the pantry. Certainly the new year can only get better from here. But atleast its a holiday that centers around getting hammered and enjoying life, just unfortunate there is none of that in this tired little town. So here I am, sitting at the old computer listening to people call into Art Bell making all sorts of predictions. Gross madness from a wide cross section of the country. Dear Christ, can't these people hear themselves? All kinds of fear and terror being spouted by the masses. Doom and gloom and righteous indignation. Its heavy shit to have laid on you at this time of year and night. But fuck it, what can you do?

Enough of this off balanced rambling, hope all is well there. All the best to you in the new day and new year.

Sincerely,
Citizen Parker