Pages

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

GOLDEN





Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--dVerse Poets Pub




On a sun-splashed day
in a desert 
where the Horse With No Name
made his claim to fame

With spring making overtures

like a punch-drunk lover

I saw her

in my mind's eye
I heard her
in my mind's ear
I contemplated her
in my mind's belly button

Behold The Vagabond Princess

electric rays sparking 
from the tips of her golden hair
she's been there
and back
on a beach with some name
And all because sunshine came
softly through her window that day

Swaying to the beat

of a distant drummer
her gaze is locked on summer

A painted man

walks down the street
blowing bubbles out his ears

How does he do that?


The world is a wondrous

and magical place to be...

The answer blowing

in the tail winds
that are bringing her to me 

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

MILLICENT BEGINS THE MONUMENTAL TASK OF DICTATING HER MEMOIR



(A revised version of one that appeared a few years back. Enjoy!)



OH, BUZZARD SHIT
she said, with a wink
and a drink in her hand.

I knew Marilyn when

she was still a brunette.

I boinked so many famous men

there's no keeping track.

It wasn't notches on your gun

back then...
nothing like that.

They were all indiscretions.

You either gave in...
 or you didn't.

Some guilt?

Sure.
But you did it for love.
Every time.

That's the difference 

between then and now.

BUZZARD SHIT

she said with a start, 
momentarily nodding off--
her gin and tonic slipping
from her fingers
to the floor,
seeping  into the
wine-colored carpet.

It only lasts for as long
as there's a twinkle in his eye...
get that down...
a twinkle...in... his...

And she is out

down for the count
and done for the day.

It's a beginning.






Tuesday, February 21, 2017

ARE YOU READY FOR LOVE???



Would I appear more attractive to you...

If I were bravely shot out of a cannon
and landed in a mangled  heap
just short of the straw pile?

Would I appear more attractive
if  I wore flannel shirts a size too big
(with shoulder pads beneath)
and had a beard
(oop, I have a beard)
and went out each morning
with a big ol' ax
to single-handedly chop down the rain forest?

Or, say, if I held my wine glass
with my pinky extended
and gushed about "finish"
and "bouquet?"

Would I appear more attractive if
I posted pictures of my Corvette
(better get one first)
from every angle with the caption underneath:
VROOM VROOM?

Or if I popped over
and fixed your computer with one
perfectly placed karate chop...
VOILA!

Would I appear more attractive
if I were twenty years younger?
Thirty?
A baby spitting up on your new sundress?

Or...

If you saw me falling out of bed
( banging my head)
first thing in the morning--
mumbling...scratching...farting...
traces of last night's garlic popcorn on my breath, 
chasing you around the room imploring:
KISS ME--I'M YOURS!

Reality raises its ugly head.

Let's all go back to bed. 


Tuesday, February 14, 2017

THE FOURTEENTH OF NOWHERE



The pussy is the portal
into another world
(that was Kubrick's observation)
so come with me
my squiggly little brother
the journey is arduous
and fraught with peril
but would you rather languish here
and be just another jerkoff?

On the couch
feet propped up
head tilted back
The Outlaw Bible of Poetry
resting on my lap
Jazz zonked out
beside me
fan whirring away
in the corner
keeping us both "cool"

He likes to rest his head
on my yellow pad
sayin' screw your fleeting ideas
I got some serious sleepin' to do
so I begin jotting these words
on the back of an old envelope
that's the immediacy of poetry
and the sun hasn't even risen

Like the first time I went on Twitter
and it said "What are you doing"
and I thought the only purpose was
to literally say what you were doing
like "making breakfast" or
"farting into the wind"
but that got old fast

It doesn't pay to take things too much to heart
especially on a calender day set aside 
for eating chocolates and getting laid
because it's all done by rote
and next week you may have no idea
where the hell she is
other than 
as far as you know
some other world


Wednesday, February 8, 2017

TURN BACK TOMORROW by Tim Schaefer...Kindle edition is FREE today through February 12th--from Amazon .com




Hey kids, just wanted to let you know that you can download the Kindle edition of my new novel, Turn Back Tomorrow, for FREE today through February 12th only! This is the e-book version of my totally ADULT time travel thriller that sells for eleven bucks on Amazon. All I ask in return is that when you've completed the book, please consider giving it an honest review on my Amazon book page. Reviews are what make or break a book. Thanks! Love ya!
(Sorry, links aren't working, for some reason. Just go to amazon.com and type the title of the book into the search box at the top of the page, and my book info will come up.)


Excerpt from Turn Back Tomorrow:

There was so much to learn about her--so many questions. In a way, he still felt like this was a fantasy--that the lot of them could very well be mentally unstable and this whole flying saucer business no more than a delusion they shared. But to be a total skeptic, here and now, with all that had passed before his eyes--a beloved president and a civil rights leader gunned down, Watergate, Vietnam, hanky-panky in the oval office--one would have to be delusional to blindly accept the official version of things. Half truths. Manipulation of public opinion through the media. Outright lies. A bit of the conspiracy theorist must exist in all who have traveled this road, and thus a mind that is open to thinking the unthinkable.



Tuesday, February 7, 2017

SONG FOR DONALD


Broke out the Steely Dan in the car yesterday (as I've been known to do), then thought of this little ditty from three years ago I penned as an homage to the lyrics of Donald Fagen. Had a lot of fun with it, and if you ain't heard it...it's new to YOU! (You can sing it to the tune of "Pretzel Logic")

If I didn't have to pee
I might not get up in the morning
said if I never had to pee
I might just forgo the day
you can take those dancin' slippers
and just throw them away
yeah toss them away

All the boyz told me

that you were so nice
lordy all the boyz told me
that you were so nice
didn't know you were a working girl
and that everything has its price
gonna pay the price

If you live in New York City
you dunno how to sing the blues
said if you live in New York City
ya dunno how to sing the blues
till you meet some chippie from Chicago
who's gonna give you the news
yeah she'll give you the news


Everybody out there

you know they're right on the edge
I said everybody out there
is ridin' right on the edge
they'll hit you with a hammer
an' push you right off that ledge

dah diddly doo
dah diddly day
dah diddly dun da dun da dun dun
da diddly hey
wah wah wah wah wah wah
wha wah wah wah woo
wang wang wang wang wang wang
da diddly diddly OOH

Who's that dude in the mirror

the one I heard somebody call "Pops"
I said now who's that freak in the mirror
buys all his duds from resale shops
if he don't get outta my house
I'm gonna have to call the cops!


Now if I didn't have to pee
I might not get up in the morning
If I never had to pee
might just forgo the day
you can bring me my coffee
and a side of creme brulee

If you live in New York City

you dunno how to sing the blues
if you live in New York City
dunno how to sing the blues
till you meet some chippie from Chicago
who's gonna give you the news
she gave Huey the news

da diddly doo

da diddly day
da diddly dun dun dun dun dun 
da diddly hey....


Thursday, January 12, 2017

COMING BACK FOR MORE



1.

Her exterior has been religiously anointed
her interior is exquisitely appointed

but I've come to the conclusion
upon eons of self-delusion

that the solitary life works best
for the constitution

as all about there's prostitution
in one guise or another

so be my sistah
and I'll be your bruther

for us there will no other
till my hour is up

and you're off to your next call
counting your haul as you slink out the door


2.

Decades whiz by
in the flash of an eye
and when I say I took her support stockings off
and wore them over my head
and then went out and robbed the liquor store
I think U know what I mean--
it's the universal language of love
ooby dooby dooby doo
 just me and you

Now I just want to slip
into another world
as this one grows chillier
by the moment
any world that I'm welcome to
(I grope for the key beneath the mat
at the foot of the door)

And she said: what is it 
you love about life?  
And I replied : the way it kicks our asses
and still we keep coming back for more

3.

Now I sit like the Fool On The Hill
on his lofty perch
a  man on a stationary bike
could attain a similar altitude
in far less time and trouble
but I preferred the scenic route

And I can see clearly now
all the dead-end roads
I've traveled down
they stretch in all directions
snaking to the horizon...
leading not to Rome
but to Samarra

Sunday, January 8, 2017

PATIO PARTY



I.

I meet her at the party.
She is working for an agency
called Asians For Special Occasions,
renting herself out to PC folks who want
their social gatherings to appear culturally diverse.
I ask if she has done many similar events,
and she replies, "Oh, yes. in fact when you
see a Japanese, or Chinese, or Korean, or
Vietnamese, or Thai-looking person at a
party these days, they are likely from the agency."

(She isn't supposed
to drink the wine,
but I say here,
you can suck on mine.)

II.

There is a young middle-tier porn actress
there, recruited by the hosts
to add an air of decadent sophistication
to the assemblage. She looks like the
 girl next door--freckle splashed cheeks
 and nose--not like the skanky-looking
 babes from the early days of the business.

Someone asks if she ever gets
involved with the men she works with and
she says, "Guys are so PRESUMPTUOUS!
Just because I DO you--what in the world
would lead you to assume 
I would ever want to date you?"

(She's also not supposed to touch the vino,
but she's eyeing my glass,
so surreptitiously, I slip it to her.)

She grabs a handful of almonds from
the hors d'oeuvre table and says:
"Imagine if I were allergic to nuts."

III.

There is a Jewish woman wearing a head scarf.
She is posing as a Muslim. She's there for the
same reason as the other hired help. They couldn't
get the real thing on short notice, she confides, but
she has similar coloring, and everyone assumes.
Because of the head scarf, they assume.
"Perception is reality," she explains.
(I offer her a sip, but she says, "Better not...it would blow my cover.")

The hosts have thought of everything.
Except to have stocked enough wine.
When it runs out, I prepare to make my exit,
thanking the two of them--a white couple in their fifties--for their hospitality. The couple doesn't
know me, but each assumes the other one does.

Which is all well and good I say to myself
as I move, a little wobbly, toward the gate.

I wasn't invited.

Sunday, January 1, 2017

THE REVOLUTION WILL BE TELEVISED



Wish I could decide
on some kind of compromise
between lying around on my dead butt
and leading the revolution

Should be a happy medium
that won't get me shot
and turn me into a martyr
yet still provide a modicum
of intrigue and excitement
(like leading a bus tour of celebrity homes in L.A.)

Though a martyr wouldn't be
such a bad thing to be
with my picture on a T-shirt
(just have to grow my beard out bushy)

And I gotta admit the romantic vision
of taking to the hills with our rifles
and our long-haired women--
little papooses strapped to their backs--
has been a long held fantasy

Back in the day I had more stomach for it--
raising a fist in solidarity
with the Panthers up on that podium.
Even had a secret crush on Patty
(or was it Tania?)

Yeah, could use a little excitement
but what's an old hippie
who's gone soft
and out of practice to do?
Must be someone
more qualified than me
and don't wanna hang you up
so maybe I'll just take a rain check on the revolution
(We had such wide-eyed conviction 
that a new day was comin')

This time it will certainly be televised
and I'll be right there
beer in hand
rooting y'all on
between the commercial breaks
(we really BELIEVED...ya know)
so shoot me
an email
if there's anything else I can do.



Wednesday, December 28, 2016

CONJURING A GHOST--THIRTY MINUTES TILL THE NEW YEAR


I was flipping around
and landed on one of the Spanish channels
and suddenly thought of you
and wondered what you'd be doing
about now
and wondering how your life turned out
minus me

I didn't really know who you were

when you left that message
at the station
you wanted to meet me
that was how you operated
call and schedule an audience

I didn't know your songs

were on the radio
or that you would sing
your national anthem
to a worldwide audience
the night George Foreman fought 
that Puerto Rican kid 
for the title in Tokyo

 I came over to your place

( cuz took requests whenever possible)
and you made your grand entrance

I knew you were disappointed

cuz I didn't dress up
and acted disinterested
you drove me to the hotel
and I knew I had some balls
just asking you to do it

Your roommate became the intermediary after that

and she said well, you are who you are
and she likes to go to the fancy clubs
and she's wondering
would you really be comfortable with that?

The last time I saw you was at the beach

you broke free from your entourage 
came up and gave me a hug
and then you were gone

You married one of your own

naturally
with little ones and that whole trip
and hell
don't know why
guess it's just that it's 30 minutes
till the new year
and those bikini waxed babes are
shakin' and grinding their asses up on the screen
would Dick Clark approve? 
(oh well, he's dead)
I used to think that was something
but now it just grosses me out
we both came from a time and a place
when women had more class
and a lot more grace

I checked you out on YouTube

and yes you're still a beauty
though age begins to take its toll
and the glitter wears off
and so I'm wondering
did your fame bring you happiness
you know cuz
it all ends up in the same place
in the end
and maybe you're thinking it too
sitting here
30 minutes till the new year
recalling that old Peggy Lee song
Is That All There Is?