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Harley Quinn Kaos

dusted stinking and gross
a full day of work
hands scarred
bumps and bruises
the sun slips in on large lions feet
through the dazed eye of the window
our souls raging but still
we crackle with static
when our legs touch
the sweat still lingering
like a hot damp relay
switch
that rush of pleasure
lithium salts
jumper cable
ignitions

she looks me in the eye
telling of the bitches at
work and her crowd of
older fans rolling through
with groceries and lotto
tickets
she can punch in codes
and passwords
her fingers smooth and
svelte and nimble
like a tarantula sicilian
dance song

they are deft moving
tearing away the black
nylons she keeps in
her drawer
'im getting into something
more comfortable' before
i can bat an eyelash or
ask
kicks my thigh with a sweaty
foot and throws them at
me.
'can you make me some soup
take these dishes down!'
hypoglycemic
pops her tootsie roll out of
her angel mouth and hands
it too me....I like the flavor
cherry with the candy centre
'on it anastasia'

a car rolls through the hood
the whoomp whoomp of base
heading to the dealers
the televisions cranked
on urban rap
the plates with crusted
pizza pop and now salted
offerings
i chew on the paper stock
of candy like a cigarette
the saliva washing the
dust and environment
of work
scrape off the survival
and work of social
uniform and run the
tap
outside the local ruffians
playbasketball with no
net
u can see the ruling modannas
in their slim outfits
the prepped kids
and the true leaders

the bike needs work
but after this im hitting
downtown
its friday and the wave
of new in their shirts
shorts and getcha wear
will be cranked on life
the substance of that
dizzying promotion of
summer lust in the vague
atrophy of that haze

through on the dulled
wife beater shirt and
wrap arounds
pack my lighter and
smokes in the patched
up skinny jeans
the loud heeled dress
shoes and rolled cuffs
chain with keys
shot of cologne
run a comb through
the feral hair
and head out
after the chores
for the dangerous
and thrill found
shores
of the street
in its golden dusk

..

Editing stage: 

Comments

give me such beautiful scenes! I never get tired of reading the true to life stories.
Thank you, ! Gee.
.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

that was just one twenty minutes
in an afternoon!

real life is great sometimes
hopping finger snapping
happenings

some people are truly just
so cool and original
and fiery crackers...
but hate it at the moment
and smile in the next minute
cant make up shit like this

one of the meetings they were
going on about the old ego I have
so next time...im gonna say
yes....Yes I have a big juicy ego!!
see how that goes over...love those
snappy lines back at em'
friend of mine would wait during
these conversations and say to me
'i saw the moment u blew their fuse
or their minds popped a breaker'
but I learned those word moves from
the best of all ages...
the wtf! moment
great stuff....

friend of mine was messing with a
make up kit she had
they love attention and made me
sit...trying it on...
im like...
'uh I think thats lip liner or gloss!'
she was using it for eyeshadow!
not missing a beat...looking at me
with eyes turned and not stopping
a second...
'O Ho! now it is!' a big assed grin

I love people like this...
so many are slugged down in the
thickness of that weighty oil
but these minds crackle like ball
lightning
these people live and I guess I
do too..More lately
not caring a damn what people
throw at me or pick at..
most of those negative cant do
what I know I can and have done
and if I cant...i sure as hell will give
it a go...I have seen those with
the most huff and puff fold out
when the big move comes on
got a new team like this
i was very dissapointed....
cant believe it...they got it in em to
do the moves...or maybe they truly
dont cause the old saying...Proof
is in the pudding....
blew their popstand anyway
wind out of their sails like a fun
old whoopy cushion

I knew the Bukowskies and Sextons
lived with em..fought with em
those mothers did crazy stuff
but they had balls...even old and
falling apart....the memories and
outrageous stuff....priceless

I know I can sell and hustle and take
bigger shit on them me..
been at this tricky slick stuff for years
and dug in...walking cause i got no
rides....but i got two feet and all the time
sometimes...there and back
who am i going to complain too out there
about the oh horror of horror indignities
the wind.the trees....

ur friends..ask em for five dollars
the true ones will slap it too you no
questions ask..the ones u kissed up
to will look at you like you got the
plague....it was funny finally trumping
their sorry hands at that..
no they couldnt cut it...

I still see and hang out with the brass
band crowd....as in brassy..with class
these are no monkey shiners
motor homes and home built custom
cycles..old cats with the knack still
and the young beauties that can
silence a crowd just by walking in...
all that hissing comes later
like air going out of tires that wont
be able to go offroad and over the
curb like the madcaps do..

marvelous hanging out with these
living souls....living legends..and
the one that are gone..

i will be damned to hide in my room
or under my rock afraid of what people
might approve or disaprove of me.
same with life.....throw on that eighty
pound packsack of groceries to save
a ten dollar cab ride.....cab company
loves us...five minute wait or less
the leather car too...black chrysler
with owners often...we tip all drivers
four bucks..coffee..AND a donut
cause u gotta get class..BE class
not just some empty tin clattering
down the street....

another friend i lived with wrote me
on FB..wanting me to do laundry
i was just gathering mine up
said I would later.
texted me when I was ready to throw
mine in..she said..
'i've washed it with my tears!'
we were laughing hysterically
when I got up there....
fantastic when U got great lines
and someone else gets the value
and crease of it...some people
just look with that dull uncomprehending
face...a perfectly good line wasted

every boss...the TRUE bosses could
take off their blazer jackets and work
with their hands direct business
stay calm..slip u a free dinner
or unhook the velvet rope and let
you through....
true bosses....
i got to drive the cars
they dont let bongo brains
behind the wheel
an old expression

yah....real lifes a blast
got some buzzkill moments
and the mind numbing...tap
your foot waiting for the wheels
to turn eventually...
not everyone is up to speed
but those that are..
are damned refreshing
and they go places..move..
not like bubblegum blackened
to the sidewalks

need the pop bop and rock

im still meeting em too
their eyes sparkle....heres
a free coffee..dont worry
about this dinner
not enough money for your
sunflower seeds and small
jar of coffee..hey...ill pick
that up for u...
if your nice..and genuine nice
people help....they want to be
part of the life...excitement
because everyone has their
burden basket...all they know
sometimes you just gotta blow
the tanks and surface
walk on the deck suck in some
fresh air and live...

thanks bros for the encouragement
and keeping it true here and out
there...

Your Friend,
Steven!

author comment

By your pretentious self-indulgent wankery.
You never offer anything of value to poets here.
You just masturbate verbally.
whilst doing so you are are masterful poet.

cheers,
Jess
A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/rhythm-and-meter-poetry

i request of U..please bore me with your fabulous barberous wit and writing!
u are a wild warrior of the sea and town...
keep frowning if must....but surely there must be tales
within.....

Mr Wolf!

author comment

pity comments can't be deleted,
and editing them feels dishonest, though I do if I know I've done bad soon enough, before it's been seen.
It it's not your poems that bother me, I love them, it's just your comments-as-poems.
I know you help in your way by giving support.
Sorry.

cheers,
Jess
A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/rhythm-and-meter-poetry

mate...i am way more then anyone can imagine
i made it look easy
..
I just love your poetry
your more a bitch then my bitches
i had to coax too work
and thats fine
my buds are more super ego
then worth..
but I believe in em

I dont know whats going on
if your looking for pity for health
then u got mine
but i knew people that died of
ravaged lungs from mining
gold pirates...hong kong
open rock drilling done them in
millionaires with no one wanting
to be near them..they were nasty
died nasty alone...
white slavers....yah...
think ive got an ego
same deal..cancer eating
their bowels
no one wanted nothing to
do with em..pure poison
lake of fire wasnt good enough
they were genuine bad

none of them were poets
bragging about their money
with their last gasping breaths
stealing lives selling lives
for a dollar

they were pathetic ghosts
at the end

nothing to respect

i knew countless others
millionaires
but they worked hard
but it wasnt to that
evil extent

u either end up in prison
or not..
gansters are real
i do have the shade of
the globe in my perusal
hackers and brainiacs

i just want systems to work
I love artists and poets
even the dying ones

would love to see some
poetry

might not happen
but it would be most
excellent

W

author comment

Maybe you don't get anything out of watching him verbally masturbate, but the poet in me is a voyeur. ~ Gee.
.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

Sexton came from great east coast wealth
better then west coast in some regards..
old colonial
She had to bust her hump then in publication
lost loves and haunted years got her
along with other issues
Bukowski did some great readings
took some great shots with all his
fantastic groupies..
(i take no shots.. nor need.the memory suffices!)

they never seemed to find much difficulty in actually
producing poetry...which is their value
one can write books on frustration sadness
the auge of the mind or soul as i call it

but no....they lived....

rimbaud..i think i read five of his works to get the
gist of he....intense....that boy could write
a complete voyeur...his description of the lady
taking a bath i still remember...his detailing
was word porn....and he did justice in describing
her in non lurid ways...but he was a homosexual
in days when it was an offense...prolli something
Trump will instill...already stripped women of much
and ongoing...

if I lived a daring madcap life...a lone wild wolf
I would be spinning yarns of my experience not
a tire kicker at the old yard
but to each his own
speaking of glitter and gam days
fights and boring bitterness between mother
and father or fam....how one escaped that
to find the true soul on the creative highway
the friends...etc..that is inspiration to right
i could bemoan all the wrongs
but why bother
we all are not alone in this one

does make for the good poem now and then
but balance is imperative
like a party or parade now and then
Bukowski made it that he could drink
his pastime while he created and read

i shall to furiously be the product of my
imaginations and writing

laying in the street is not my cup of
tea nor stylee!!

Mr waking up with coffee and cigee
Mr Wolf!

author comment

Seems to be the consensus of opinion that you are a "tosser",, still, you are a very interesting "tosser" with a great imagination,,,,,, (And, No, that isn't a redundant statement )

"the sun slips in on large lions feet
through the dazed eye of the window",,,,, Excellent !

Obi.

the fog struts in on little kittens paws...
or something like that
i seen fog...it was prowling like a predatory
force...it had power to cause serious
calamity to coast and highway
back in my youth
we had only the old time rhyme poetry
till then.....that blew me away
and was interesting enough to
pique my creative fires ablaze
for the wont of poetry

it was an extension to include where
poetry started for me
and I thought of all the things
eye..window of the soul
is the sun not a tiger fierce
or resting sullen in splendor
the king of the evening
when the people walk the beach
females if with long hair like
manes...the whole show a pride
of existance vitality and potential?

dazed....windows are an escape
the boring speeches at the meetings
of the hard sacrifice...tough world
my soul is crushed....
and schooling....one ear listening
but the clouds..the sky..the birds
the people milling about in business
on the street below..
that dazed eye

the aftermath of lovemaking
the wind shifting the open window
to release the btu of passions
excursion...seeing the stars
from the bed..looking up past
the eve...rain dripping...
the limbs animate and alive
with the patterned winds of
August...snowflakes and
that damp chill on winters
eve....

eyes....windows of the soul..
my conquests loving my
shotgun eyes..
use your best peices of
creative forward but include
it with the rubble and mortar
of experience andd imagination

well i did help sell real estate
and work retail..

thank U...nothing is redundant
in this world...even if we are in
a slump and feel that way...

Mr Imagination!

author comment
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