A poem for him

Indebted to your kindness,
through sacred natured time
we dance in the name of Eros.
Randy.

"Track 1" [a short story]

It was round about midnight when we rolled into Nebraska

How exactly we were going to hunt down our favoured Asian mystic in the light

- I was not sure

My thought train shattered by the crooning beside me -

Loretta was hungry and it dawned philosophical enlightenment would not be possible

with her a'caterwauling

Pulling into an all-night burger joint

A glint in the rearviewmirror reminds me of a spherical lampshade I used to own.

"Man of the moment" Steven Bunting serves up several super-sized and as the lukewarm meat ingests I reflect on my journey

Back in the Caddy' the sounds of "Devia Kokomo" from the radio blast

If intrauterine genocide punk were a style - these cats sure played it well

Her belly full of meat, Loretta drifts off beside me

The radio barely audible over her snoring

Pulling up at a red light I just make out the announcement "...war"

President Robert Buttons taking on China? O ladyboy-ladyboy!

Like my fifth time on acid suddenly this trip's taken a turn for the worse

And that's when it dawned -

I'd come all this way for an Asian mystic to predict my future?

My future had just fallen into place

- I needed to escape this country before the draft came in.

I'm heading for the coast - it's decided

First task, leave Loretta somewhere

Second task?

Last Words

Without spontaneity what are we.
Without spontaneity just machines.
Without authority how are we?
No grace under pressure, no ill-fitting dentures.
A portrait of society when all is told.
Artists fold as dartists hurl.
The evil eye stares on, Jenkins' at home.
Garibaldis' conquest relies on the understanding
Portrait of Society(')s alright. McButt signing off.