Sunday, October 21, 2012

Mother

 
Why Mommy Why
Mommy Mom Mom Mom
Mom Mom Mom
Why Mom Why
Mom.

Why bird why fly
Why blue why sky
Why school why house why desert
Why Dad
Why Mom Why.

Why baby why dirty why clothes
Why clean
Why bed why night why sleep
Why dream
Why Mom Why. 

Why yell why hit
Why quiet be quiet!
Why girls why boys
Why virgin why slut
Why God why Devil
Why apostle Paul why Jesus
Why pray
Why church why cry why shame
Why Mom why.

Why TV why music
Why Beatles why records
Why money why cars why job
Why friends why lovers
Why mom why.

Why smile why laugh
Why mouth why eyes
Why finger why hand
Why woman why man
Why husband why wife
Why breathing why life
Why old why young
Why die
Why here
Why move why stay
Why you
Why Mom Why.

Mom?

Small Town Sluts

--> Slept with the same men
Loiter the same bars
On black nights with shooting stars
As we make love to them,
 In the back of their cars.
Go back inside,
Watch the same shitty band
We’ve seen twenty times.

I laugh because I’m better than you
I cry because I’m not.

To so many friends we’ve said good-bye
As salty daggers gash my eyes
-Fast as I can I turn my face,
I can’t let you see me cry
I’m so jealous of your escape.

Dare I speak aloud,
The intent of my heart?
This valley holds us together
As our lives fall apart.

Are you a friend, my sister?
Or just a whore?
The devil, a goddess
Enchanting, abhorred
Repulsive, yet adored.

You see-

There’s no glass I can empty
Or pills I can take
To sit across from you
Face to face-
No soberness can stifle my pride,
Open my throat or loosen my tongue

Crouching behind the written page
Cleverly hidden,
In the spotlight on stage
A pathetic gesture that permits me to say:
I love you.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

"Sometimes You Get On The Bus And It's Crowded, Sometimes It's Not." by Rodney Knight

 by Rodney Knight
page 1
Sometimes you get on the bus and it's crowded, sometimes it's not. sometimes you sit and the bus fills up around you until every seat is taken except for yours. Then you wonder, why doesn't anyone want to sit with you. Maybe your looks are a threat. They look at you and your face says "stay away." The bus is full and all you hear is the engine. The bus stops, a lot of people get out. Hotel district, people going to work. Maids, cooks, busboys, etc. The stop requested bell rings, a person gets off. The bell rings again, a person gets off. The back door slams as he gets out. Gas station man. The sound of the engine again. A man falling asleep, his gun falling out of his coat wakes him up. He looks down, sees the gun, and quickly hides it. Bad boy, bad boy, what are you going to do when they come for you. The bus driver is ahead of schedule so we have to wait. We are by the mall and you can see the mountains. A man asks me for change. He sits in front of me trying his best to talk to a lady he just met. He smiles a lot.

page 2
The bus driver is a short Mexican man who looks like he drank too much coffee or needs a beer. I don't care as long as he stays on the road. There was a bus crash a few years ago, a bus was coming down from the tram parking lot to 111 when the brakes went out, the bus plunged over a cliff killing almost all people aboard. The girl is starting to get irritated by the smiley man. Smiley Man gets the hint and moves to another seat. It's not enough for the girl, she gets off the bus. Now it's my turn. I pull the rope, the bus comes to a stop and I get out. There is another bus going to another destination. I get on that bus which will take me to where I want to go. The driver is a big black lady who gulps from a small cooler, shades over her eyes. This bus is half empty, or half full, depending on how you see it. The bus moves and we are off and here comes Seabiscuit. The CB radio blares something that I cannot understand. The sun shines in my eyes as we make the turn, a turn to the left and no more sun. It's hot outside but very cool on the bus. The bus stops, somebody gets off. My stop is coming up and I pull the chain. The bus stops and I get off.

page 3
I am standing in front of the post office. It is hot and I walk up the ramp, easily accessible. Through the doors and to my P.O. Box. What is that number now, oh yeah. One letter and thirty thousand advertisements. I take the letter and throw away the rest. What the hell, since I'm throwing away things I might as well clean my carry bag. I take out what I want to keep and turn the bag upside down over the trash can. The bag has sunflower seeds falling out. Half the seeds end up on the floor. Oh well, I kind of kick them around and start to walk out when I notice the janitor staring at me. If a look could kill I'd be dead. One foot after another and I was gone. Never to be seen again. Half of my trip was over. I stood waiting, waiting for a bus. Fifteen minutes and counting. One lonely man waiting, waiting for a bus. Two guys walk up, I think about having conversation. I notice that they are gay. End of conversation. Another man walks up. He is shy and stands by the bushes with his head looking down. The bus pulls up.

page 4
I walk up and pay the box, the driver hands me a transfer. His name is Scotty. Beam me up, Scotty! One time I paid the box and noticed I was on the wrong bus. I asked the driver if I could have my dollar back. He laughed. You see, the box takes money, it never gives. How full is the bus? Only six people and three of them have headphones. That's the thing to have when you ride the bus. I just remembered who Smiley Man is. I knew I had seen him before. He was many days ago on the bus with his lady. His lady was wearing his ring. While the cat's away! The bus pulls over and a man gets on. "Oh, do a day!" Well, Scotty has beamed me to Cathedral City and I get off the bus. I have to cross the street to get to the next bus stop. I wait for the light. A big red hand is telling me not to go. Rip Van Winkle wakes up to a green man on a sign who looks like he's walking. I cross the street. At the bus stop the scheduled time is not now. Forty minutes and counting. Do my eyes deceive me, or is that a Circle K over yonder? I take the walk, it is hot. The thoughts of ice cream dance through my head. Inside the store I look at the ice cream. Nutty buddy looks good. At the counter I find out that the cost of ice cream has gone up.

page 5
It's like gasoline. The price rises and falls, bus mostly rises. The ice cream is good and makes my walk enjoyable. Joy to the world, ice cream is here. Have you ever noticed that the last part of a Nutty Buddy always melts in your hand? Then you're looking for a napkin but you get distracted by someone wanting change. You reach into your pocket, pull out the change, look at your pants and shake your head. At the bus stop three people are waiting. Two are smart and sit aways from the stop where there is shade. This beautiful black chick straddles the bus stop bench out in the sun with her hear held back, she defies common logic. It's as if she were at the beach trying to get a suntan. Not in Cat City, enduring the 115 degree heat. I sit in the shade and wait. I don't have to wait long. The bus is here. I wait in line, walk up and give the driver my transfer. His name is Larry and there is a plaque above his head to prove it. He throws my transfer in the trash. I sit down towards the back of the bus. It's only 10:00, making good time today. The bus moves and we're off.

page 6
Fifteen people quiet and staring straight ahead. There in the zone. My zone is peaceful, only good thoughts. Green light, made it through one. Green light, made it through two. Green light, made it through three. It's coming up, it's still green, will we make it? Yes, and it's four. Red light, came to a complete stop. To roll through is to get a ticket. They call it a California stop. What cop would want to pull over a bus anyway? It's unheard of. One guy has decided to sit passed out in his seat. He's still in the zone, but with a different view. We stop at Palm Desert Mall. Most of the people get out, the zone is broken. The driver takes a break. he goes outside, sits down and talks on his cell phone. He has it squished to his ear as if it were priceless. The engine still runs at a fast idle. The door is open and the heat creeps in. I move to the back where it is cooler. A lady puts her bike on the bicycle rack that's attached to the front of the bus. She has a little girl with her. The little girl runs over and gives the bus driver a big hug. The driver's name is Robert.

page 7
Her mom talks to the driver and all three get on the bus. Mother and daughter don't pay the box and sit up front. The driver does what he does, he drives and we're off, but it's not a race. No other cars on the road right now. We make a turn and stop, a big black fat man gets on. He has ear phones and the number on his shirt says 5. He sits in the back, the very back. Nicely dressed lady in a wheelchair gets on. The driver helps her get settled in. Again we move, we are on the other side of the mall now, two people get on, a lady around forty with short hair, glasses, chewing gum and what looks like a college kid with a backpack. Next stop a man gets off. Again with the red light. Construction area up ahead, we have to stop. We creep and stop, creep and stop. We move faster and then faster and then red light. We wait, a lot of traffic now. The first in line to wait, the first in line to go, one way of looking at it. The bus stops, a man gets on, baseball cap, sunglasses, ponytail, white shirt, and a gull orange bottle of soda. The bus stops, a man gets off. The man has a brief case and it looks heavy. He gets out the back where I am sitting.

page 8
The lady in the wheelchair gets out, using the front. It's an electric chair and she does not have too much of a problem getting out. The bus moves on. Green light. The zone is back, peace to the world. If only we could. We are in Indian Wells going by the Marriot. All eyes straight ahead. How long will the zone last? It's over, a man in the front is going through his pack, a lady picks her nose. In La Quinta I see the Cliffhouse and the waterfall across the street. We stop at the shopping center. The man with the pack gets out and then a lady. We move on, the next stop Orange Soda Man gets off through the back. There are only five of us now. Lady and child change seats so they can talk better to the driver. She waves her arms as she talks. Red light, fourth in line, fourth to stop, and forth to go. The auto center, summer sales event. Villa Montego, low 100,000's. Open desert, both sides. Gas stations, both sides. Green light and we come to a stop. Mexican lady and two kids get on. A boy and a girl, ages seven to ten. Lady with the child talks to the Mexican lady. We stop. An older lady gets on, dressed nice. Earrings, blond hair, diamond ring. She sits down and looks around a lot. We stop. Two ladies and two little girls get on. My stop coming up, must sign off.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

in country (indio), last call

  saturday

really its just some one to smile at. instead of some picture of a face on a package or advertisement that i know im allowed to look at with out the fear of them looking back. sometimes its just good to know that your still human. not to act on impulses but to simply smile and be smiled at

  its two croisants mostly..... then a 40oz of mickeys. people dont usually believe me when i tell them how well malt liquor compliments the flavors of your a-typical american breakfast. either way it is a lazy american delight. beacon, eggs, hash browns, and some salsa to scoop up with your beacon. instead of toast though i like to get croisants but not those cheap ass bags of a dozen or so that you get from the grocerie store. not at all. i like my croisants straight from the tit. i go to the donut shop where they make 'em fat and greasy. i need the bag to be transluscent when i get home. with a king cobra or a mickeys


  i can hear the 40 rolling across the back seat when i turn off of john nobles onto rubidoux. i always slow down to take a look at that giant void. it looks so strange to me because i remember what the neighborhood used to look like when it was there. i can feel everybodys memories and lives. i hear every single conversation ever

  and then theres that church

  there are moments in history that we are suposed to remember fore ever. or "never forget" as it were. usually attrocity. somekind of vomitous incident that we force ourselves to look at and burn in our memories for the sake of it never happening again. the problem with this though is that those moments in history that we are never to forget are products of us chooseing to ignore the many other moments in our history that could have prevented the atrocitys in the first place had we paid attention to the lesson

  and then there are those moments in history that we just wash over. moments that make us put all our efforts into makeing the rest of us forget the out come of our stupid decisions

  in 1962 the city of palm springs rushed into "section 14" (the land between sunrise, indian, alejo, and ramon) and evicted every body in that area(mostly black folks) without notice. when i say evicted i mean they sacked those motherfuckers. they violently ran them off of their property and burned their houses down. the state of california recognized this later as a "city engineered holocaust" and then greatfully proceeded to rake in all the tax revenue that was produced by the hotels and retail fronts that were set up in its place

  most folks in palm springs nowadays never knew of this incident to forget it

  just as most folks in indio will eventually forget nobles ranch was ever there

  the destruction of this neighborhood wasnt as blatant and viscious as what happened to "section 14" but it was motivated by the same greedy standard. the injury as it was inflicted was much more subtle yet the effects were much more damageing in that there is nothing there now. the filthy gabachos that had promised to develope the land once it was cleared of its residence backed out of the deal and the expansion of the indio mall never happened. all those houses were raised for nothing. the only people that are there now are a few homeless people who huddle in their pissed on blankets against the brick wall that surrounds the large vacant lot that used to be the neighborhood. their stank you can smell wafting over the wall into the back parking lot of that piece of shit mall
the really disturbing part about this is that its happening all over the country. private interests have been able to game municipalitys into useing eminent domain to sack peoples property in order to build their strip malls or hotells so they could collect the taxes that would be generated by these projects. yet the numbers and cost that were presented to get the project moveing were fantasys that were just meant to get the aproval in the first place. as the projects moved forward and the true costs of doing these things started to rear its ugly head, people got cold feet and backed out. displaceing intire communitys whos familys had been rooted in their homes for generations. and then there are no appolgys for this. everybody complicit in this shit just shrugs their shoulders and shuffles through the numbers over and over again while laying in bed trying to figure out some sequence they missed that could have made it work. never does it cross their mind that , "wow.....i realy am an evil cunt arent i?"
indio hasnt really done jack shit for this situation either. not only have they not come up with an alterative plan but theyve been silent about this incident altogether

  wich i can understand

  its kind of hard to talk with "golden voice promotions" cock down your throat

  it turns out that raising the neighborhood wasnt needed after all. indio has hosted the "disposable income festival" for over a decade now and as the concert promoters sqeezed more and more money out of its patrons the city of indio obediently sat there waging its tail and drooling for the tax revenue that this show would bring in. and because of this grunion run the destruction of nobles ranch is just a simple after thought that is to be forgoten. "never to remember". as long as golden voice keeps payin who cares? rigfht? and if it is brought up its probably that other guys fault....... or something

but then theres that church

  whether you have a god or you are an athiest, one thing you have to recognize as a constant in american comunitys since this countrys founding is its small modest churches and their roll as a gathering place for the community to develope its identity. not strictly in religious terms but in the sense that you may find yourself checking your mail at the same time as your neighbor one day and use every ounce of effort not to make eye contact. yet some how when you see them at church all of a sudden you are part of the same community. shakeing hands and discussing the needs of your less fortunate neighbors trying to figure out a way to help. even if its just a bunch of bullshit lipservice you pay before you go home and get lit up to watch the game, the church was still the place where the community gathered to touch base and display their civility towards one another

  every saturday morning on my way back from the donut shop i drive by this curch and it is the sadest most surreal part of my week. some how that church was spared. the only building left standing on that vacant lot. the last representative of a ghost community. i find myself drawn into stareing and imagineing the houses that used to be there because i have never seen anything like this. all through out history there are examples of gods being taken away from their people. churches and holly sites destroyed by conquering armys who turn around and build their own temples and shrines on top of what was destroyed. but seeing that small church standing there alone

  this is the first time i have ever seen a people taken away from their god



                                                                       
                                                                           j

 

Friday, July 6, 2012

in country (indio pt. 41/2)

i have one memory as my first

i dont know if it was a memory of my first memory

or the memory of my first dream

but it is the very first thing i remember remembering

i shit a kaka ball outa the side of my diaper onto the floor

when i looked up i was in mecca vinyards

  mecca vinyards was topagraphicly at the crux of what put indio on the map in the first place. where manifest destinys celestial crossings of the rail roads and the interstate poured its splender down the gullet of hwy 111 for the prosper of the intire desert empire. where indio first got the clap all over the motherfuckin boulevard.
  it was heroine back in the day. then it turned into meth. what ever came in with the truckers who came in to pick up the shit that came in from the trains. the trains brought in the wetbacks who would go to the boulevard to get some of whatever dope the truckers gave to the hookers they were boneing with the money they made from their new wetback jobs.
  the crux of the mojados the truckers and the pimps.
  historicly this distribution center has always been controlled by the local police. back in the day the old burns hotell was the hub of this activity wich made it easy for the cops to keep tabs on their investments. or at least who was comeing in or going out with their investments. but since that joint burned down the hive has dispursed into much smaller operations along the "junkie coast" of indio. that small stretch of land between valencia street and indio boulevard wich is zoned for rental apartments and hotels.
  the hair net turned into a shaved head.
  and the suppliers turned from bikers to cartells.
  and its all still here because the cartells let the cops have their share.

  i dropped her off.

  not in front of her place but down the street because she let me drive a few houses further before she told me to stop. she looked like complete shit.....and my gut tells me thats the last time i will ever see her alive.

  "so you just dropped her off ? like you just dumped her off in that shit?" my buddy asked me.

i looked back at him for a split second and then looked away.

  "shes already dead".
                                                                  j
 
 

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

March 28

setting things on fire, christmas trees, cans, propane tanks, fireworks, 
high on psychedelic mushrooms, driving to indio at 4 in the morning to wake someone up,

living in a canyon, making it your home, dancing atop rocks, understanding the unknown, kissing boys of interest, smiling at your friends, laughing at their jokes, making an amends, cowering in a corner, afraid of who you are, life is what you make it, staring at the stars, quivering at an insult, hiding in a lie, pretending to be something, you'll find out when you die, life must be for living, sights to be a-seeing, your plane takes off tomorrow, have some things that i can borrow? traffic jams bring traffic lights, yearning for such unseen sights, seattle in the summer, ensenada in the winter, san diego is for surfing, moving boxes for collecting, RVs made just for renting, strangers worth a-meeting, clans of red and fur, plans set in stone for sure, paint worth being painted, a love thats now been tainted, an excuse to act a fool, sneaking into pools, fights that shouldn't have happened, friendships best abandoned, smoking in a backyard, leaving the screen open, overhearing words that must have been misspoken.

Sunday, May 20, 2012

in country (indio pt.4)

 i think i started the conversation because there was an "O" magazine laying on the table.

  "how lost in your own self worth and out of touch with reality do you have to be to own a magazine and only have yourself on the cover of every issue?"

  everybody looked at the cover shot of oprah shamlessly mugging in some rediculous golden, bejuweled, and bedazzled getup and gave a little inward chuckle to themselves because they never thought about it that way before. after we all sat down, a discussion on oprah winfrey started as we all passed the magazine around. each of us flipping through it for a second and adding some juvenile level of vandalizm to the cover photo (blacked out eyes,missing teeth, devil horns, snake tongue, beard, mustasch, black circles around the blacked out eyes like she got knocked the fuck out) before we passed it along to the next person.

  it was strange because you could sense a very faint undertone of hostility in everybodys take on oprah. like they were begining to suspect that oprah realy isnt famous for anything other than being famous and what they once viewed as an example of american success is now starting to look more like shameless oppulance.

  although rose took it to another level

  "you know i really cant stand her...." every body stoped talking and looked over at her ....."i saw her speak at the mcallum once, i wasnt impressed."

  rose was one of those old school latin catholics and when i say old school i mean old ass lady so you have to understand that her demenor was completely jovial when she said this

  "and shes so black. my goodness. shes even blacker than that vending machine.", and then she pointed at the snack machine in the corner.
 
  "i dont have anything against black people but i think its ugly when they are that dark and she was just so ......... BLACK."

  everybodys jaw dropped. they were shocked and speachless. everybody except me. i was cracking the fuck up. i recognized this kind of talk from older spanish folks but i wasnt used to hearing it out side of some family get together wher a drunkass uncle or grandfather starts blathering on about 'race relations'. it was that old time racism that most of our grand parents would veiw as something in the ball park of "traditional values" rather than biggoted.

  its creepy and kind of adorable

  but that old time shit runs deep. those are some feudes that go back to the great depression. when blacks started comeing from the east to compete with spanish for jobs.

  old chicks like rose are telling you what their dads once told them

  nothings gonna change them at this point

  we just wait for them to die

  i live in an apartment so theres no real historical claim to these parts except the rent. people here move in and then they get the fuckout. the only race distinction in these parts is known as 'low income motherfucker'. white people, brown, people, black people, pisas, and gangsters. new parents starting from the bottom because 9 months ago they had no idea they were gonna be parents. hot milfs in nurseing gear surviveing with their daughters or sons on their own. dudes payin child support for all them babies and slingin some shit on the side. this is the whole paycheck to paycheck set and theres a yard sale every weekend because some motherfuckers cant wait for that check.

  my neighbor (shes gone now) was here because she couldnt live with her sons father on accounta he liked to slap her up from time to time. so her and her boy stayed next door. the father came by to see her one day and they started fucking. then they started fighting. then they took turns sobbing at one another. first her......then him. then they started fucking again. when the 1st of the month came around that apartment was empty.

thats the power of dick

  that seems to be the standard here. people fighting and fucking. nobody seems to be happy unless their fucking. and when their not fucking they silently stare at the person they just violated and say to themselves "at least im not alone". but all of this is everybody elses business all up in my shit. because of thies cheaply constructed walls, all their lives are on display in my living room. like when my neighbors kids get in trouble..... i feel like im in trouble.

  the curtain doesnt go down at night either

  thers a nocturnal set. the tweekers that dont wake up untill the sun goes down and the birds stop chirping. they dont see the active world. they wake up to a city that has closed up shop for the evening and entertain themselves with each other because they are the only people around. you hear them all night. constantly in and out. they dont go anywhere except outside and then back in. speaking just above a whisper as they hatch up some hair brained tweeker plan. thats my other neighbor.... and i wish someone would take her baby away from her.

  so then its the hollidays when everbody takes a break from all this shit. they go to an aunt or uncles house. eat food, drink, and listen to the concerns of their older realitves who are worried about them because they live in a 'nigger neighborhood'. ofcourse what they dont understand is that neighborhood is gone now because the city of indio bulldozed the motherfucker.

  aint nothin left but us poor people

  the true melting pot of america simmers in her low income appartments

                                                                                                                     j