iSkei

You...

Sun, 19 May 2013 05:12:01 -0400

you are my red and my blue
my yellow and also my green
-my palette without you
would be nothing at all
you are my day and my
night
my reason to smile and my
light
you are the magic without which
all things would be pointless and
boredom
I thank you for being you to me - and
for allowing me to be me to you
love…

The death of a salesman

Thu, 09 May 2013 07:03:01 -0400

Elroy Huntpfeffer, traveling salesman specialising in aluminum garage doors of the brand ‘Tech-O-Matic De Luxe’, a product which, in the words of the company’s A.D Lloyd Grant Ffinkelbanden- a distant relative to the Boston Ffinkelbandens, was ‘designed by the brightest minds in the Garage Door business and produced to make life easier for hard working garage owners across the nation’ wanted a cup of coffee.

Elroy Huntpfeffer smiled the first time he heard the voice of Rod Jenks proclaim those words. Rod Jenks was a person with no education, a heavy smoker of Unicorn Brand cigarettes without filters, a product he also endorsed. some believed it was the smoke from those glowing paper tubes filled with tobacco which Rod Jenks and millions of other ignorant consumers in the world inhaled that gave him that dark, trustworthy voice. It didn’t. The only thing it gave Rod Jenks and millions of others was emphysema and lung cancer. By the time Rod Jenks lent his voice to a campaign for ‘Tech-O-Matic De Luxe’ garage doors, however, his voice was still as dark and trustworthy as ever. Most people who heard his voice in PR connections would not recognise Rod if they met him on the street. Most people would probably expect a nice looking, well fit, man in his mid thirties. The relatively ugly little man with grey hair, a belly as big as a smaller asteroid, and yellow teeth accompanied by a breath making horse flies turn away was a well kept secret at the ‘Filing Cabinet’, the ad bureau on 42nd street where Rod did his voiceovers for anything from low fat milk to instant coffee.

Elroy Huntpfeffer enjoyed his 7th cup of coffee that particular day. His ulcer groaned and complained loudly of the treatment. The pills he took to put all things in order did their job. In fact, whatever pain or ailment people suffered, there was a pill promising to fix it available. Elroy smiled. ‘I’m on the job’ he thought to himself. ‘Aluminum garage doors’ he whispered ‘I know the business. Trust Elroy.’

At the same time, in a doctor’s office two blocks away from work on 42nd street, a hungarian doctor named Szlad Blevko gave Rod Jenks two months to live, at the best. ‘It’s the smoke, you know…’ Szlad didn’t smoke. He had read in books that it was lethal and decided he would not do it. Szlad had lots of education.

Rod’s brain started producing hormones aimed at keeping him alive. Those hormones were remains from the time Homo Sapiens Sapiens was a little hairy and mostly ape-like mammal which had to run from hungry bears and such. Rod didn’t have to run from hungry bears, so his mind (poisoned by a lifetime of consuming dangerous chemicals and coffee) told him he should take his loaded handgun, a machine produced for ending lives, and go to the subway and kill as many persons as possible and then himself. Rod Jenks was a product of his life.

Elroy Huntpfeffer, being a product of quite another life, happened to arrive at the subway station on 42nd street that Rod Jenks walked in to, at 11.45 local time. Szlad Blevko, the hungarian MD who delivered the death sentence to Rod Jenks, sat in his office in his italian leather swivel recliner. He looked almost serene, filled with some sort of inner peace. The only thing contradicting the calmness of the scene was the red pool of blood spreading on his white MD robe. A result of a tiny projectile made from lead having entered his system at very high speed. Rod Jenks was warming up. The poison in his brain told him to empty his gun at a group of people standing at a sign saying ‘Life Shines’ in huge, friendly letters. Rod noticed a man wearing a brown suit, trying to get away from the chaos. It was Elroy. He held on to his briefcase filled with pieces of aluminum. samples to show customers who needed to touch things before buying.Rod shouted at Elroy ‘Hey, you there, stop’. His chemicals were having a party in his brain. he raised the gun and pulled the trigger. A projectile flew through the destiny laden air of a subway station on 42nd street. Elroy’s last action before the projectile abruptly ended his life by exploding in the middle of his neck and cutting off the supply of blood and oxygen to his brain, was throwing the briefcase at Rod Jenks. It didn’t get all the way, though. A middle aged teacher of social science at the Huddington Junior High in Baltimore was hit by the heavy briefcase, and stumbled drowsily onto the tracks as the 11.53 for Brooklyn South entered the platform.People started shouting as the teacher ended his days decorating the front of a Subway train headed for Brooklyn. Rod jenks had wasted all his bullets. He now sat on the platform crying like a child. When the police approached and told him to surrender he stood up waving his empty gun at them shouting ‘yes, yes’. The police took this the wrong way, and Rod Jenks’ life left him through 47 9 mm holes through his body.

The moral of this little story might be that aluminum garage doors can in fact be lethal. Somehow…

Later...

Fri, 03 May 2013 03:04:26 -0400

The wait to get onto the main road

That left turn…you hate it…

I love your way of shifting gears

Of handling the blinker

The road just disappears behind us

Never look back

Behind doesn’t exist

The red light

The last one before

The office

Oh god

To find a parking space

Near the entrance

There’s one

Good

….

Later…

…later

Like Summertime Raindrops

Wed, 24 Apr 2013 15:57:39 -0400

Wave in a breeze

Like morning flower screaming

A vibrant connection

Camera focus

Eclipse

Heat seeking

Spirit

We collide

Head on like rays exploding

Exploding

Stars burning

You shine

They try and they try

And they will never get close

My hands like storms

-Like silver, like gold

There pointing their ugly stare

This way and

That way

For theirs are the wishes

And also the need

You are nothing like

That

You know

Because you were born a miracle

You were born exploding

You were born

Storm

and

Fire

And heat

In the mind

In the soul

in the night

Like summertime

raindrops…

‘Love’ Acrylic on paper

Sat, 13 Apr 2013 08:45:14 -0400

‘Love’

Acrylic on paper

Bird of your heart

Sat, 13 Apr 2013 08:43:16 -0400

Watching
The end of a day
The bird of your
Heart
I feel it
Feel it
Slow night emerging
Born from want
Rising from
Need
There -
By the quay below this balcony
Wave lifting
Swaying
Pounding
Heartbeat
Dancing last
Sunbeam of this day
Drifting like the breeze
Gull traversing the
Bay
Like the me in you
Like the you in me
My hand on your cheek
Embracing life
Your hand on mine
A kiss
Smile
A wave
Our love
Free, my lovely,
Free…

deadbeatsblog: “I don’t know about other people, but when I...

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 11:40:06 -0400

deadbeatsblog:

“I don’t know about other people, but when I wake up in the morning and put my shoes on, I think, Jesus Christ, now what?”
― Charles Bukowski

Love this portrait I made of a lady today Watercolor

Fri, 22 Feb 2013 12:20:06 -0500

Love this portrait I made of a lady today

Watercolor

Sonnet '42

Thu, 14 Feb 2013 08:14:57 -0500

Sonnet '42

Watercolor Portrait of Marie

Sat, 09 Feb 2013 12:16:06 -0500

Watercolor Portrait of

Marie

Freewheeling

Tue, 29 Jan 2013 14:57:27 -0500

The weight of word is promise

I meet them as folding

Along sombre cousins and nephews

-Electrified

While sun brands your eyebrows like rivets

And pupil of neonatal

Movement running scared

Whispering for a seat by the sea

Open your window

Spotless forehead -kissed

And touched by

Grace

Salve

Along a beach touched by

Desire freewheeling madly for

That smile sinking into you

Miraculously close

Restless union

Skilfully crafted - burning

Escape

Boredom

Proverbially Yours...

Sat, 26 Jan 2013 12:52:48 -0500

I tried to write your smile,

Your eyes

Your lips

All those things, in fact, the sum of

Which

Is you

I wanted to build a home for my

Feelings, a little house

Of words

For them to live in

That they might somehow

Reproduce

Like a string of naturally existing

DNA

I don’t think I did too good, though

There are some verbs leaking away

Some pronouns and adjectival strings

Sneaking off for a garden party

At the poetry section

I hope you can still appreciate my grammacite

Expression of everlasting, if a tad proverbial,

Love…

Portrait of a lady Watercolour

Sat, 26 Jan 2013 08:57:09 -0500

Portrait of a lady

Watercolour

Under the Azure Sky

Thu, 24 Jan 2013 04:01:08 -0500

Under the azure sky we met

Two souls searching

Gazing

Striving

For a light hiding

Far far away

Under the black sky we’d look at a star

Lightyears away

A zillion and one

Day

Across stretches of sea

Across oceans of time

Scaling mountains

Crawling deserts

Reaching out

Somehow

For each other

For tomorrow

For love…

Azure...

Sun, 20 Jan 2013 07:05:00 -0500

Chasing waves I saw you dancing

Like a butterfly

Singing of

Freedom and

Love

Floating with a stream of

Consciousness

I drowning in your eyes

Sun blushing

Azure sky merging,

Merging

The sound of cloth against wind

Waves hitting

Pounding

Embracing

Sailing

There a seagull crossing the bay-

I’m sure you remember

The breeze so warm it lit the night

I’ll always be there

-Chasing waves, looking for you

You dancing like a

Butterfly

Singing of

Freedom, and

Of love…

Big as Life

Sun, 06 Jan 2013 16:11:12 -0500

I will paint your name in golden letters

As big as life

And then I will paste them onto a cloud drifting

People will flock together in awe, they will

Point their crooked index finger and say

‘There’

Like Stars (Burning)

Sat, 05 Jan 2013 16:47:15 -0500

Waking up was like a telephone screaming and the

Door came at them like the lightpost

While the sign saying no smoking fluttered like flames

And they held on to that dream

Because it was a nightmare or that mailbox by the

Library or the tailor on 60 east 42nd Street across from

D’Espresso’s

We all knew he had it in him

But he wasted it on the trainride

She kissed a frog only to find out nothing happened

And it tasted like shit

He sold that typewriter for a bed and a breakfast so

Now he writes his poems with an old inkpen on recipes and

Receipts

Leaves them on shelves at a Bronx bookstore

The sun waltzes across her blurred vision

A delivery van disappearing to the east

The cigarette burning on a sidewalk

A little light drifting towards 5th Avenue

It’ll never get past that crack in the tarmac

They disappear into the leaves of a Park

Like shadows

Remaining for some time in some of those poems

Like dreams

In the mist

Burning like

Stars

DEAD BEATS: None Whatsoever by Ulf Skei

Thu, 03 Jan 2013 14:57:10 -0500

DEAD BEATS: None Whatsoever by Ulf Skei:

deadbeatsblog:

The morning was dark and rainy

A person of unknown identity sat by the roadsign

‘Gloucester 8’

Just off the M5 between

Haresfield and

Hardwicke

A nearby light from a farmhouse

Shifty and dim

‘Where to’

The man turned from my gaze as if hurt

”Cheltenham’

I saw his eyes were all…

Wire

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 11:55:00 -0500

They walk along the canal

I see them pass by, below the central bridge,

By the tower

Three or four times each week

Collectors

The old green Hanomag will certainly be loaded with

Scrap iron and

Wire

Tonight

Copper

Dancers

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 07:31:19 -0500

Bits of some other existence falling

Driven

By wind and

Disgust

Part of some memory dancing

Sliding

Past doors to

Yesterday

It burns like a soothingly adverse

Smile

A ravagingly smooth wave

Goodbye

For the waltzer there is no rest

-The carpets all need comfort

(The glanze and a nod say yes)

A sweet kiss - a sigh - no more