Game Over

Four million fat fingers fumbling for that final chicken wing

Offensive pile upon pork and paprika

Intercepting the interjection of salt and saccharin

Digestive system got a crap-load of tackling

Add the Aspirin in

Wash it down with another glass of gin

A six-pack and then



Confetti covered pop-stars

Prancing, as the layman watch

“This is America, you towel-heads, and we got a fucking game to watch”


Praise the clock

“If we’re lucky, we’ll catch another titty-shot”

If not, wait for the advertisement with the biggest slot


Return to the glorified gladiators

Slapping asses, while stacking assets

It’s all steroids and spandex

Triumph and a trophy for the man who stand the strongest guard

Avarice and apathy paint the markings of the longest yard


Victory dance

This game is bigger than breast implants

Bigger than cathedrals, built for Jesus

On Monday, you can drive it all away with the engine in your Prius


Miss America

Damn, that stupid hoe is crazy!

I wonder if they like to watch the Super-Bowl in Haiti?



Diesel Trees

Diesel trees

Watered by the blood of ancestors and the tears of youth

Nothing is ever what it seems

Reality culminating in the collective energy of everybody’s dreams

Don’t Even Ask

Staring at the stained steeple glass

Flesh shadowed, rippled in the color, as the people pass

A couple skaters shoot the breeze and laugh

Posted on the curb, smoking on some herb

until every single leaf of the weed is cashed

Cars speeding past, bums beatin’ black

Begging at the feet of that…

Businessman walking on his beaten path

Kill a cigarette, toss the end of the bleeding ash

down to the ground with the blowing leaves and trash

Wonder where he’d be without keys and gas?

Eating rats, sleeping underneath the pillars,

where the freeway pass


Save us all,

sure as hell Jesus can’t

But who will?

Honestly, don’t even ask

Before The Dawn

If I die tonight

Bury my lead-stained pages beneath the ashes of angels

Sing songs of peace as you dance beneath the orange moon

Embrace a moment of silence and worship the fragrance  of your lover


Tomorrow never existed


Dreams are far beyond wishes

We are divinity

When we open our eyes and no longer see color, religion, or class

We are blind 

When we hang like slaves...

Dangling from diamond and gold chains

Suffocating our feeble necks


Desires are only flesh

As if a God knows what's next?

December 21st, 2012

The calendar ends…

As we begin our transformation


Our only means of survival:

Community, humble over-standing, and patience


My angelic children our my saviors


We can travel to the moon and back

But have forgotten how to cross the street 

To greet our neighbors


-Bles 12:30 A.M. 1-4-12


Buzzing round barstools

Movement muffled by peoples chatter

Lining rims of pint glasses   with tiny bits of fecal matter

No one notices

Nestle myself in the cleavage of the hostess’s tits

She smells of cheap perfume and strawberry Chap Stick

Cutting off Bukowski from his last drink 

“You fucking fascist!

If you wasn’t a female, you’d get your ass kicked”

That’s exactly what happens   but in reverse

Red-faced war vet, bloodied upon the street turf

Flopping on the curb like a flounder

Mopped up by the pulsing hands of marbled bouncers


Buzz back to the table with the pretty slut

Titties tucked, shitty drunk   handing out pity fucks

Legs open wide for any Tom, Dick, or hank

Just a couple shots away from another big mistake

Either way it’s jaded, cause that girl is someone’s daughter

No STDs for me   I’m just looking out for fly swatters…


Last week the cook almost hit me in the kitchen

Bitching cause I’m always buzzing round   landing on his chicken

Saw him spitting in some grease-laden bar food

Than serve to some asshole posted on a barstool

Fool shoulda’ carpooled   can’t even speak a sentence

Dumb domestic drunk   been a week or two of binging

No one wanna listen to him ramble bout his wealth

Only homie is Jack Daniels   so he’s sitting by himself

Folding cards let life has dealt   stone drunk with a poker face

Undressing the spaghetti straps on some college girl’s shoulder blades

Older age   doesn’t have a chance with this young chick

She declines

He retorts, “Run away you a dumb bitch”


Flap my wings and fly away   from the smoking and the boozing

These stupid schmucks can’t help themselves 

I guess they’re only human