No Ass

I’m amazed at images

Of all these old white rockstar’s

former and current gfs

And wives. You’d think

That with millions in

The bank and worldwide

Praise, they would have

Found themselves women

With ample derriers.

But no, it was one skinny-

Ass psuedo-hippie cocaine

Sucking skank after another.

It’s somewhat strange when

You learn that all these old white

Rock farts learned from the

Old black bluesmen who

For the most part

Created the rhythms and

Licks that the rockers just

Sped up. Of course the

Bluesmens’ lyrics were

reality-based, not the bubble-

Gum peace and love lies

I grew up listening to. I

Would have been so much

Better prepared for the harsh

Truths of life if I’d grown

Up listening to the bluesmen

who knew that since you can’t

Trust any woman, you might

As well get your lies from one

With a sweet baby face and

A big fat ass.

–FB

The Delusional Animal

I can’t even remember

If I’ve written this

Poem before. After all,

I read the same poems,

Play the same songs,

Watch the same films,

And dream the same dreams

Again and again, so it really

Doesn’t matter if I’ve written

This poem before. The same

Delusions again and again:

A world where creatures

Need not eat other creatures,

A world where people only

Fall in love with those who

Can love them back. A world

Where a human being can love

Another human being, and

Not just their beauty or

Money. Pick your

Delusion, baby. There’s just

So many. Just enough to keep

Us alive for a while though.

Nietzsche said that man is

The unhappy animal, but that

Doesn’t apply to everybody. So

I say that man is the delusional

Animal, because we all keep

Believing in something we know

Can’t be true. We have to. We

Just do. My unknown God, we just

Do.

— FB

Best Theory Yet

My furniture consists

Of mostly piles of books:

Philosophy, History, Religion,

But the best Theory of what’s

Behind all this I saw on an

Episode of some low-budget

Sci-fi show: we’re all just pets

Of some hyper-advanced alien

kids. And heaven help those of

Us who belong to the delinquents

And sadists.

–FB

The Maze

The hardest thing

About secretly

Driving into the city

On a Sunday morn

To put food out for

The homeless cats

Who live in the make-shift

Shelters I built isn’t forcing

Myself up or dodging the

Cops. The hardest thing is

Finding a spot to piss after

The 45 minute ride out.

Tired of pissing in a cup

In some lot scrutinized by

24 hour video cameras, once

I pulled into the budget

Supermarket. After stepping

In with a full bladder, a cute

Black rent a cop asked me if

I needed some help. She wasn’t

Impressed by me driving out

To feed homeless cats, but she

Did direct me to the facilities.

Afterwards, I considered buying

Something, but there was only

One cashier on and the line

Was long. After trying for a

While to exit the spot, I came

To realize that every other

Avenue of escape was blocked

As if to say get in line and buy

if you want to bounce out.

Well, I wasn’t having it, and

Once again, the Bratz Doll

In blue had to ask if I needed

Some help. She had a face and

Body, and the way her hips

Swayed made me wanna make

Swirl baby. But dolls aren’t

Moved to mate with old

Crackas who feed stray cats.

But it’s all for the best, I love

Sentient beings too much to

Want to bring any into a

World like this.

— FB

The Martyr

On the playground

At St. Mary’s Elementary,

I had a fantasy, really I

Had many. One featured

Me dying while defending

The sweetest-looking blue-

Eyed girl in school. Another

Fantasy starring me was about

A motorcycle race that had

Mysteriously been arranged

So that she herself was the

Winning prize. Both fantasies

Ended with me dying valiently,

As bloody and tragically-

Handsome as Jesus himself

Hanging on on the cross in

The Lord’s house. But I died

Happy both times, because in

Each fantasy, I breathed my

Last as she held me in her

Snow-white arms and didn’t

Even mind the blood

On her uniform dress.

I didn’t know then that first-

Prize girls don’t bother with

Losers, especially if they shed

Blood for them.

And so many

Love those who

Spill blood,

any blood,

Instead.

–FB

Couldn’t

Had a poem in mind–

Real life with a theme,

But I just couldn’t

Type it up for you

Tonight. I’ve had too

Many at this titty bar

Tonight to type it up

For you right. I feel that

Soft music inside me,

As I drink these pale

Ales and do dance after

Dance with a baby-faced

little black dancer who

Sees me as a creepy-assed

Cracker even though I

Drive 20 miles to feed

Stray cats. You’d think

That if God was good

He’d make old guys

Love old girls, but it’s

Not like that. I’m spending

Har-earned cracka cash

On a five foot Bratz doll

Black girl who’s Betty Boop

Lashes and plushy ass make

Me feel alright for now even

Though my readers never

Buy my novel and I’m

Doomed to hell with no

Deliverance in sight.

The Unlovely Unloved

Sure, you can claim that beauty Is subjective, etc. But that’s only True to a limited degree. There are beautiful types and vice versa in any human society, and the love they get far outweighs that bestowed upon the unlovely. Well, I guess I know what it is to be both and neither. There have been those who’ve considered me attractive, and a few still do. But since I’ve spent most of my life alone, unloved by most I was attracted to, I have to recognize that I am one of the unlovely. Well, it’s not the worst fate that

Can befall a human being. Lacking attractive force is like lacking one of the senses. A person who is unloved by those he or she could love romantically has more time to study, to express, to self-actualize really. And time enough is no small consolation prize. Lacking attractiveness can lead to a heightening of the empathetic-sense. Look at those who help out our fellow creatures of the not-so-human kind. And while it won’t win you or me the love of any super-models (no matter what some will claim), or get either of us 10,000 likes, empathy, sweet empathy, is a kind of beauty too.

— FB

Beware the Halo

There’s real danger

In canonizing

Anyone, and by

Canonizing

I mean looking at

Anyone as if

They’ve got a halo on.

Appreciate a person,

but in

A realistic and limited

Way. Don’t put a halo

On anyone, you’ll

Be safer this way.

— FB

The Kingdom is Within

This might just be

The closest thing

To a feel-good

Xmas missive

As you’ll ever get

From a guy with

A pen-name like

Mine: I consider

My Christmas as

Having begun

After work on the

Friday before the

Holiday itself. On

The way home to

My roof-leaking

“Mobile Home,” I

Pulled into the

“Executive’s Den,”

Where hardly an

Executive ever

Roams, but among

The dancers there

Who didn’t do much

To raise my Christmas

Cheer, I spied a doll-faced

Brunette with rockabilly

Tattoos covering only

Part of her Santa-sized

Ass. She sat curiously

Alone at the bar, so after

Having been propositioned

By a few of the others, I

Went up to the brunette

And asked for a dance.

And she was good

Enough to raise the

Lazarus moldering

In my shorts. She also

Claimed to have saved

A kitten in traffic, which

Raised her stock in my

Book too. Well, as I paid

Out the going rate there,

10 bucks a dance

(I’d been there only a week

Before) plus a cheery tip,

She held up the bills and

Said, “But this is only 65.00.

It’s 20 a dance.” I smiled and

Inquired when they’d changed

The price. She said only a little

While ago and added that all

All the girls there charge 20.

Well, I scrounged up the

Difference. I’d heard this

Song before. But she had

Delivered the dances, and

I hadn’t asked about her

Price first. Of course, after-

Wards I learned that no one

Else there at the time charged

20.00, and the house price

Hadn’t changed at all. I’m

Not mad though. This

Morn, as I approached

One of my makeshift

Homeless cat shelters

In the hood,

Several kittens ran out.

I emptied the bag of

Cat food, then I stuffed

Some fresh straw in the

Shelter. And I’d 

Managed to do it all without

Getting caught. I know that

Karma and heaven are myths,

But seeing those kitties snug

In the shelter made me feel

Good. “The Kingdom of

Heaven is within,” as Mr.

Christmas said, and his

“Father’s house has many

Mansions,” too, and one of

Those mansions has a

Leaky-roof, another has

A makeshift shelter full

Of homeless cats, while

Another has a lovely,

Lying strip-club dancer

Whose rockabilly

Rear-end

Raises the dead. The

Kingdom of Heaven

Is within.

— FB

Buy my book on Amazon: Mail-Order Annie by Fyodor Bukowski.

War Prize

Life is warfare,

Just ask Sun Tzu.

And to the victors

Go the best booties.

I’ve been through

Many battles, and

Have won more

Than a few, but I’m

Still struggling to

Win the big booty,

Or big booties, I

Should say. I’ll know

I’ve prevailed when

My nose is ass-deep

In a sumptuously-

Sculpted fresh one

Bending over my

Rented bed in an

Anonymous hotel

Somewhere. I’ll

Inhale the musky-

Sweet scent of

Victory-at-last. And

You, dear reader,

Can help my dream

Come true. So like

And share, far and

Wide. And why not?

I care for homeless

Cats, haven’t killed

Anyone yet, and provide

Free entertainment

To fellow wage slaves

Like you. If trash like

Vick can afford the

Best booty, why shouldn’t

I, or perhaps even

You?

— FB