Monday, September 6, 2010

II. Vain Attempts at Understanding

My canopy is usually above me,

continued protection from those heaving rains,

I adore my lush greenery,

tranquility is breeding in the forested landscape,

animals lie asleep,

and at times flourish in heat,

the whole scenario does give it to me,

that final feeling of much favored security,

but at the same hour a breeze,

a slightly different breeze,

will plainly throw the plans,

every and all plans-

even the master plan,

off its mounted pedestal,

now solely relying on reconstruction.

I. Vain Attempts at Understanding (poetry of my youth)

Old boys in banjo songs,

inwardly refer to sippin' whiskey as moonshine,

refreshingly odd,

nightfall's stir breathes equally.

I. The Sounds of Native Madness (poetry of my youth)

A piece of my sirloin shines sour,

his sandals littered now burned bare feet,

and grown men can't keep their tires worn free!

a good solid tread is a must....

Where the grass drew green hue grown to glow on the horizon,

for my last faraway 'till my putts dress sheik,

these times laughter turns on only the greek gambler,

and Tron fit for a summer treated to a round of ping-pong,

pray for the showers to rejuvenate our game,

so the pitter-patter-patterns to a beat soundly encoded in tounges,

and the gods are tellin' us straight  faced to get it on,

and my buddy thinks he has just been knighted by the queen!

sick and drug youths use recycled generations,

as that excuse to live in evil and lie obscene.

The Smoker's Cart

    The Smoker's Cart was the main place I hung out. It was the only place we could smoke on the train, that is until we hit CA, and then we had to wait to stop or sneak them in some hidden corridor or bathroom.     My boy Greg, or Greggers, as I called him had no money but came along for the ride as long as I did have some cash left. (As soon as i went broke in Seattle he had his girlfriend wire him a money for a bus ticket home).  Greg only smoked weed at this point in his life (he picked up smoking cigs in prison a couple of yrs later) and so he and I chiefed it up and used Greg's fake id for me to stay drunk constantly on the 5$ drinks they served.  No one seemed to bother us on the smoking cart, and we only had seats to sleep in anyways, we didn't have private rooms w beds.  I was always a voracious reader and besides the alcohol and marijuana the book On The Road inspired me to start my travels early.
         "I am going to grab some cigs Greggers," I informed him as we pulled into El Paso, TX.
          "K dude, just meet me in the restaurant area," He replied.
          "Yea order me some fuckin' nachos man w jalapenos."
          "Fuck u.... U dont need to be gassing me out for the next 12 hrs."
          "Ok whatever ill get em dick.... I guess u need some money." I handed him a ten.
          "Uh yea... Im going to roll up a j too so ill find u when im done."
        
   We along w the masses shuffled off the train... it was like 3am and was very refreshing to get out and stretch. I flicked half a smoked cig and watched a bum chase it in the wind to finish it off for me. Good I thought, it wont go to complete waste. Greggers laughed and called him a stupid beaner and headed inside. I let my imagination wonder how one gets to be that low in society.... now I realize it is very easy especially when people have not much family or friends. I know I would be way worse off if I didn't have a caring family.... they planted the seeds of my faith in God. I rebelled and remember how as a teenager I questioned the existence of God.... I thought I was real fuckin' sophisticated and intelligent.  It is classic case of being a know-it-all kid.... high on weed and already experienced a variety of other chemicals, acid mainly, the heroin didnt come till like a yr later, but I was destined to try it at one pt or another due to this newly found way of existence. I had to learn it all for myself. I am not the first and wont be the last stubborn youth of America.
       I purchased a carton of Marlboro Reds and dined on some nachos... like a little heathen I looked at everyone w contempt.... all adults could suck it cause they didn't know how to live their lives full and free in context w my own vision of how the American Dream should be defined. I jumped straight back onto the smoking cart and we waited for the one other person to finish her cig' and leave so we could light up that joint! As we left El Paso we went right by the shanty town on the Mexico side. Damn I remember feeling lucky and even in my young burned out brain could construct empathy, and this drained my thoughts and energy as I passed out on the smoker's cart. Bam.... bye bye smokin cart as we hit CA.... damnned hippie nazis out there in CA! LOL!

Dallas Dope Monkey: Summer of 1998

Dallas Dope Monkey: Summer of 1998: " I remember waking up and the phones were out of service, my car was not in my driveway, and my parents were on to me and my drugs......."

Summer of 1998

       I remember waking up and the phones were out of service, my car was not in my driveway, and my parents were on to me and my drugs.... they had taken the only thing I had and paid for myself.  That was how my little crazy 16 yr old brain justified stealing $1300 from my parents to flee the state. Somehow I called one of my friends to come get me... I cant remember exactly what was up w the phones being down that day except that it added to how strange this day un-flolded, un-planned.... by that night  another one of my friends and I were on an Am-track train west bound thru the southwest to Santa Barbara, and then north to Seattle.... and ultimately we tried crossing the border three times unsuccessfully to reach Vancouver, where I figured was a pot heads paradise.... North America's own little Amsterdam.

Summer of 1998

       I remember waking up and the phones were out of service, my car was not in my driveway, and my parents were on to me and my drugs.... they had taken the only thing I had and paid for myself.  That was how my little crazy 16 yr old brain justified stealing $1300 from my parents to flee the state. Somehow I called one of my friends to come get me... I cant remember exactly what was up w the phones being down that day except that it added to how strange this day un-flolded, un-planned.... by that night  another one of my friends and I were on an Am-track train west bound thru the southwest to Santa Barbara, and then north to Seattle.... and ultimately we tried crossing the border three times unsuccessfully to reach Vancouver, where I figured was a pot heads paradise.... North America's own little Amsterdam.

Chronicles of a Dallas Dope Monkey

       The purple tinted evening of the Dallas horizon is all I have when I am dope sick. In the midst of opiate withdrawals I can never seem to reach God, but all that I need is a grain of hope. I am thru w that shit, again, for the hundreth time! As I start to reach the last limb of the withdrawal train, my God given sense of purpose slowly derives from this clarity in measured time, and when I say , "measured time," it really means I have to acquire the virtue of patience... which doesnt develop easy for me.  I actually live in a suburb north of Ft. Worth, Keller, TX. I am 28,  and I am not only a junkie, but seem to have become the cliche of a junky. I have seen friends die, o.d., and go to prison. The world knows as I know how taboo heroin is and I wish I had never tried this sick magic of a simple injection. I have gone every route... methadone clinics and then the world discovered suboxone to give heroin addicts. I am going to chronicle some short stories that stem from my youth, when the devil had full grasp of me. I have been on felony heroin probation and completed five yrs.,   and failed two drug tests but they kept giving me more chances. I am like night and day. When I am sober and calm w no bitch excuse to bail on God and my family to go shoot a dark ass shot of that monkey water! When I am strung out I contradict everything that I am and believe in my sobriety.  Now, I string along as much sobriety until given an excuse, at least I have hope in using my past experiences to give me continued strength in my faith. These stories aren't about heroin solely but the route that led me to that.