spare me your change

Hands out for my "spare change",
And what if I have no change to "spare",
When I've only had one day of work in the week,
I spend my time that is "spare" on searching and toiling so you, your predecessors, and your state will not bare the burden of my state.

And do I go when i need a "spare",
When I've chosen to be a cog in the larger mechanism that is society,
I am placed and RE-placed as needed so larger less in need cogs than I may rotate continuously.

And how do I find what I what i need to "spare",
When I ask for help to not drink away the part of the day I can not work away,
So too do i need the help to not dwell atop the part of the night that I can not sleep away.

And where from do I receive my Hand out,
When my hand has never been out.

AutoSabotage

Crawling in the dark poking at rats nests, seeking a fix that shouldn't be sought, each fist clutching to a separate vice, every pocket overfilled with even more vice, spilling over like flood water from an over worked storm drain, head so pill'd up it rattles, shake it up wrong and the loose nuts fly out crashing against others in all the wrong ways, with all the wrong effects.
Legs sore from trekking, mind numb from thinking, eyes heavy from drinking.

What is it about Dice and Whiskey that attract trouble, what is it about Big Bright Eyes and Loud Lively Laughs that attract me... If I have to ask I don't deserve to know.

One More Whiskey Soda.

Nights in the Beach City are always dimly lit the temperatures are most often mild enough but the attitudes not so much (' least not at night), walk the main BLVD uptown bound and your likely to be accompanied by the fog on your six, and trouble usually lurks at about ten and/or two, where you likely ain't looking due to the inebriated shoe gaze session.

Drinks weighing down on you, thoughts distracting your line of sight, and sense of sound. The intense concentration on simple cognitive's for sidewalk curb navigation, "step lightly to to board, step calmly to dock", keeping you from the ideas of paranoia and cautious lookout that should be employed at such ungodly hours. Even worse for your safe keeping is the fact your wearing shades in the hours after witching time, when long ago anything remotely bright had faded, but you only cared to shield your eyes from sight and possibly catch up on shut eye as you slumped at your dive, between stints of dice throwing, on the only bar stool with the dark tinted over head light shade, bulb's long been burnt out, now your traveling in this dimmest of yellow hued lights to your current even darker, windowless, sound capturing hobble.

Little mind do you pay to the young night stalkers tracking you. No thought do you give to any possibility of trouble being afoot. No attention do you pay to there whispers and plots. No suspicions arise as they close in, and when they strike, you're off guard, outta of balance, but quick to respond. As if adrenaline kicks your instincts into low gear at high torque a punch to your ribs sends your paws in your black leather read lined jacket pocket, your opposite paw sends a push to distance the advance'r, your primary paw flips open your sharp light blade, the one you often use to scratch fish guts and bird's shit off boat decks and their chrome instruments. You yank out the paw and shove it, with strict conviction, in the direction of the cause of your rib pain, as you bring it back you feel the contact given to your chin by the second advance'r, you spin towards the attack and bring along the swipe of your blade and follow it with a shove and a well intended toss of your fist.
Now your starting to see clearly and the scum of the night looks young to you, very young. The primary scatters, the left over mid teen year'ed fella on the ground follows suite shortly after.

Now your shades lenses are scuffed from their flight to the pavement and all you got on your deprived, debaucheristic mind is, "Damn, now I gotta buy new ones."...

found and lost

Things found are sometimes those things you've forgotten, you've forgotten because you were unaware, or preoccupied or uninterested at the moment of it being in your possession, sometimes the forgotten things are the best things to find, sometimes they are the things you cant believe you've been doing with out and there you could have been all this time if only you'd open your eyes and look the things in their eyes just to remember them, it just takes a second to do so, and it could save you years of unaware searching.

We're all always Talking, Yapping, And Blabbing. Me I talk, and Yap, and Blab, more than anyone, but no one listens, except for myself, the self who I'm not, the self who also listens to anything anyone will say, just to intake speech, and patterns, and lisps, and accents, and Twain's, just to learn.

Lets all Yak a little less and listen a little more, and DO just a little bit more, and learn nothing unless its taught. Scratch that, NO, lets all Yak as much as we can, lets all listen only as much as we can till we're through listening and we cant listen no more, lets all learn what we haven't been taught, and lets all do just that.

Traveler's choose, wanderer's land.

I have been pedestrian for the better part of this year now, inconvenient yes, but its been easy going, what with living in a beach city and all.

Don't mind the walks, sometimes tens of miles worth a day, sites and sounds coming at you and your walking through 'em makes a wake in the city's aura, it gets kinda tunnell-y sometimes specially if you stop at every drink dispensary. If you want to experience your day however, this is the way to do it.

Now I've never been one to neglect the art of being lazy, activity just sits well when you have time to waste with no television. NPR and a pair of headphones make for better company anyway.

Writing post cards and smoking black and mild's. I get complaints from recipients of said postcards, "the mail takes too long" and such, they would rather I use the Internet for communicates, this is fine, if you don't mind the lack of charm.

All this convenience might be partly to blame for America's people's having trouble with their weight, there was a time when you'd have to walk a little even to listen to music. Records. They will require you to flip a disc and to do so you'll have to walk to the machine, but now with all these pod's and Internet radio box's and multi digital disc playing devices this is been put into obsolete-en ism (this might not be a word).

Convenience has led to some real world crisis, jobs are being lost to the convenience of the Internet and the ease of credit card's, Me I like my news in paper form I take my quarters to a dispenser every morning, but I cant say this is true for the rest of America, and I don't blame 'em but I wish people would see past convenience once in a while, go to a store a real store brick and mortar (or wood and stucco as the times may provide), rent your movies from a place a real place a destination type joint, get your clothes somewhere I mean SOMEWHERE as in a place somewhere, a location, go through their doors touch their goods and try something on.

Under paved surfaces

Dirt so loose it sticks with you on your shoes on your clothes, in the denim of your jeans, the scent of it becomes your scent, you begin to believe its part of your vision, dirt so loose it becomes a part of your look for a few days, it begins to affect your sea worthiness, and just as you were regaining you land worthiness, this could make for a dangerous limbo. (Just a little water to the shoes fixed this for me but I cant say it will be every ones fix.)
Reaching the location was a caper no tourist should attempt their was an easy way but convenience trumps it every time. under a major highway the sounds can get nauseating so its good to counter balance said nauseating with drinks that contain at least some part alcohol. traveling light is a good idea also.
A distinguished young lady yanks and rips at a pull cord sends a heavy piece of gasoline powered machinery in a violent job accomplishing rumble she walks away and back to the group well postured and calm as if she hadn't just provided power for an entire town of shanty's.
Men lit only by dimly glowing strings of decorative light down in the dusties of the ground, set up archaic analog gizmo's some recognizable some not, some technically advance and some that need a kick start.
Soon enough they begin to make noise and the clashing of the wind breaking vehicles above and the howling of the angst and desperation from their devices and amplifiers unwittingly become a tune.
Poised and collected the man who brought me here an acquaintance from the city in the woods I once resided in assured me as to the normalcy of this whole seen and I took to agreeing with him even though we were most obviously in a part of the city where the sun don't shine to often.

Before to long Katmandu showed up and whisked me and the westsider (a man about town) to a gathering the Westsider knew off, the place was crawling with beautifull women but the walls were caked in trouble. The kinda of trouble you could have fall over on you when you're a white guy and two brown guys at an Asian gang meeting. Soon and surely enough shots rang out and we were forced to scale a wall in a hasty retreat hands and tennis shoes flying all over the place and the sounds of well landed jumps mashed with the sounds of those not so well executed boys urging others to "Bounce" and girls asking for help up. In the shuffle the westsider was lost replaced instead by fleeing underagers who were just nimble enough to get over the wall in time with us. Asians throw one hell of a party to bad you have to leave before the bullets fly back down to earth.