#169-1 Theme: Dude, Where's My Karma
"La Puerto Del Diablo" by RD Armstrong.
luna sonrie como un gato
me estoy ogando
si estuviera amarado con a stone
if el Diablo
la puerta del infierno
me estuviera chupando
un palo pero
am sad today
moon is smiling like a cat
I am sinking
if I am tied with a stone
if the Devil
opened the door to hell
I am being sucked
have a stick but
"The San Pedro Poems." $6 Available from Lummox Press, POX
5301, San Pedro, CA. 90733-5301
"Magdelene's Rooms" by Georgia Popoff
of moonlight bathes the room blue
first man I laid beneath
in a winter sky
love that has never left me
women's men come to me
rest against my ample skirts
women's men claim to visit
momentary mystic dwelling in my kiss
the closing of the door
a black sky overhead
ardent hunter's moon
gold into my many bracelets
1997 Georgia Popoff
Coaxing Nectar from Longing, (Hale Mary Press, Syracuse, NY)
"Recycle Your Emptiness" by Steve Ramirez
empty fortune cookie
a scary proposition.
you'll find that you've
yourself before the alien
the sacred mantra
they've looked you over,
the concept of planets misaligned,
bad moon rising and a dartboard
in the corner of a dusty office
wait for the next budget meeting;
written the book on
Law of Conservation of Happiness,
happiness isn't created or destroyed,
only changes form
among the land-owning elite
occasional detours downtown.
2000 Steve Ramirez
"Dear Joan" by Jimmy Smith
order to get to you
first needed directions
practice the unscrupulous stuff
by all who wish to enter
cross the River Styx
it seemed harmless at the time
your visage was inextricably
with my memories
found that you had been so loathsome
you were alive that my immortal soul
catch up to you in the afterlife
some serious funky behavior on my part
I'm just not willing to do
you in the next incarnation
2001 Jimmy Smith
"god.gov" by Rev. Wyrdsli
I call up God and get my karma report?
keep looking for his (hers? Theirs?) Web page -
God have a 800 number?
want my karma report.
I black and beautiful or blood stained red karmically bankrupt?
I done enough good in this life to take a second mortgage on my soul,
or am I still paying
Satan for stealing gum, smoking pot, dropping acid, listening to
devil music and wearing
t-shirts to school when my mother said she didn't want me looking
like motorcycle tough?
I forever damned for the abortions I allowed and abetted?
what about all the pets that have died in my care?
left more women that cared about me than been dumped - I'm not
bragging, I'm worried
my karma account.
the five years I spent with that satanic cult minimized by the
nightmare they put me through, or
damage they did to my life?
my studies in magick and mysticism make me a para - angel?
I get points taken off for not having sex with women that were
I get points for letting people walk over me and manipulate me?
Sermon on the mount, is all
for real? It doesn't stand up to skeptical scientific testing. For
all the Bibles and churches,
don't have Jesus on video tape. It could all be a shell game.
I get any points for the mace, the guns and disrespect dished to me
from the blacks? I sure
I could ask my abolitionist ancestors.
about my ex-mother-in-law threatening to kill me when my
ex-brother-in-law got the
notion, in a drunken rage, I was beating my wife?
can I write to get my karma report? I want to check it for errors.
"Palmistry" by Deena Hardin
light was dim but I could see her eyes,
never forget them: pale green
traced with black-
far out to the side, like a cat-
wrapped in multi-colored scarves,
upon layer, a Gypsy turban,
thin smile deep burgundy.
took my hand, palm up,
over to peer at its lines-
could feel her cool breath-
of my life on the third
he would die too soon,
me bereft, to die
and alone at eighty-something.
must be a joke, I thought,
the others waiting in line
their turn; but I got back in line,
my look a little,
that hand down, once again.
peered closely, straightened up in her chair,
me that I knew my fate.
at thirteen, this was an unlucky pill
swallow at a simple Halloween carnival,
me wishing I'd bobbed for apples instead.
"Lost Sheep" by Michael Levy
- oh -- when did humans lose their innocence,
- my - how sophisticated they look,
mirror reflects the designer image,
did they misplace the sight of themselves,
them hither and thither,
to find the same face,
souls - lost time,
shepherd to guide the lost sheep.
2001 Michael Levy
"Omphalos"* by Martha Kirby Capo
worldwide symbol of the center of the world
bindu: Sanskrit "drop, symbol of the absolute"
Martha Kirby Capo
"The Meade Avenue Disaster Contingency" by Robert
got ourselves a plan
the big one
is part of our prime directive
is not an apocalypse response
is not an escape route strategy
is not an over-reaction
when the meade avenue bridge
the 805 collapses.
each live on different ends of meade;
the bridge finally gives way,
will be staring at one another
opposite sides of a huge crevasse.
will be on the west side, facing
san miguel and the other mountains
will be relaying damage reports
the bay-side of the city.
been rehearsing for the inevitable,
their guerilla poetry
the urban chasm of university
have been out shopping
our earthquake- preparedness
they will be vintage
metal lunchboxes, of course;
will be well-stocked with all the
one's pink, one's blue
I got dibs on the pink one;
walkie-talkie aka the "other" batphone
on that latest dish report, batgrrl- over)
8X12 color glossy
this town'll be crawling with media);
copy of the PSl official spiel,
the destruction be so great
we are compelled to do a last Last Sunday Slam;
large package of Jet-Puf marshmallows,
pair of shish-ka-bob skewers
the marshmallows, of course-
also be used as personal defense
someone try and steal the marshmallows);
we are all prepared, we are like boy scouts
that's a bad analogy)
are ready for my first damage report;
from the west
jennifer, you should see downtown,
levelled except for that statue of don diego- over"
from the east
robt, that statue of don diego has always
up in del mar, at the fairgrounds- over"
from the west again
jennifer- looks like we've done slid aways north-
is cool, this so cuts down on my commute- over"
is still unclear on this concept
I reframe it into a paradigm to which she can relate:
plate is connected to the faultline
faultline's connected to the shockwave
shockwave's connected to the canyon
canyon's connected to the backyard, etc. etc.
she totally expected this from me,
most of our plans have involved
fragments of hokey children's songs
batgrrl, it's a brave new world out there, let's roll- over"
Robt O'Sullivan Schleith
DriftWood Highway 2001 Poetry Anthology