Goldpussy

by Bradley Mason Hamlin

1978
sitting on the edge
of someone’s bed
smoking a sweet smelling joint
listening to Led Zeppelin
feeling a little bit
like a loser
but wondering
if I might be able to score
with the
chick in tight blue jeans

it’s a school day
and I feel good
that I’m not the only one
not in school
but also wish things
were different
not so desperate
and fucked up
mad
in mind and angry in action
I’d rather be normal
than rich
but I don’t know what
normal is
and I’m poor
so I inhaled …

and sailed across
the seven seas
having Sinbad adventures
fighting mind control
monsters
ogres
orgies
lost
lonely
reading Ian Fleming novels
while
fighting sea serpentsof evil
that other people
seemed not to see …

until I arrived here
almost
all washed up
as
the endless shore of words
came crashing
caged images
the monkeys of mind
rattling the bars
scratching out my first epic
on the cave wall
like a pathetic cardboard sign
held by the homeless:

will write words for golden pussy

words
like junk
rearranging the blood cells
but more powerful
than dope
or hippy acid rock
and stoned chicks in firm clothes

wait a minute …
maybe I am a loser
back up
scratch the part about words
being better than fucking

but nevertheless
a good line
eventually
captured a good blonde.


*a couple of Brad's websites (he has a few):
http://www.mysteryisland.net/
http://blacksharkpress.blogspot.com/

Fractured Like Thin Glass And Glued Together Again

by Bradley Mason Hamlin

7 am
and Bukowski keeps me company
in the bookstore
as I rip open the cardboard boxes
heavy with overwritten works
once again
trapped
in
a
stupid
job
and I put away a book
then quickly sneak
and read
a Bukowski poem
then I put away another book
one for them: one for me
together
Bukowski and I
can make it through
the monotony,
the co-worker’s commentary
and the invisible paycheck;
I will use the dead man’s words
to give me giant sparks
of life
like capsules of speed
the way
good jazz feels creeping out of the radio
and he will surely look down
from on high and
piss a river of rain over the angels flying
to create a rare lightning
once more
because
even rejoined with Mozart
Bach & Beethoven
I know he must not have
forgotten
how it was.