Very much enjoyed this! I feel the connection to his darkness to typical setbacks and pitfalls most relatable, and "running out of cigarettes and money at the same time" made me laugh harder than it should have
I am in control now off my devils and writing has helped and I am dislexic poetry helps me learn new words and not overwhelm me like big books or lost off reading
Knew David Lerner well or as well as you could. He once had a psychotic break in my LA apartment and was convinced my dog was sending him evil messages. I took him to the Fort Hill people at the bottom of Laurel Canyon. He knew from their east coast days (Fort Hill is a 60s cult that has turned into a construction empire). They had done a lot of acid research back when and they absorbed his madness like they were performing a magic trick (There's a great cover story on Fort Hill and their leader Mel Lyman in a back issue of Rolling Stone). My favorite David Lerner line is "I'd rather ride a rocket ship to hell than a Volvo to Bolinas" from his poem The Crucifixion of Johnny Carson. Cool you guys posted one of his poems-- my first poetry book was a chapbook with Zeitgeist called "On This Train." That was a good press and a good scene at the cafe Barbar back in the late 80s
I was an actor out here, fairly successful, then traded it all in to be a poet/junkie at the end of 80s, there was a brief but thriving poetry scene in LA then with a reading run by Michael Lally called poetry in motion at the cafe Largo and poets like Wanda Coleman and others. Then I wrote Cool Runnings and everything changed. I went from junkie poet to junkie screenwriter.
Do you guys only post dead outlaw poets or can the living get in on it?
Here's a poem Hubert Selby Jr asked me to read at his birthday party, also I think you'd dig my film A Thousand Junkies on Amazon Prime, my friend Jerry Stahl does a cameo in it, and the movie is about as outlaw and indie as you can get
Here's the poem.
FUNERAL ON FAIRFAX
there's a funeral on fairfax
deposed countesses are spitting
chunks of seeded hebrew
dragging rheumatic husbands
to a suicide of stuffed cabbage and piano music rummaging in piles of unwanted
That was fire man, hell yes, and I do share poetry from the living. I'll check out your film on Prime too, seems right up my alley. Damn, you wrote Cool Runnings... that's amazing. Appreciate you following this page. Shoot me over some poems and I'll post them on here. Or some recommended works. Thanks.
Very much enjoyed this! I feel the connection to his darkness to typical setbacks and pitfalls most relatable, and "running out of cigarettes and money at the same time" made me laugh harder than it should have
Thank you!
The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist -Charles Baudelaire
Yup
Dear Satan, don't get me wrong
I could/couldn't abide to your schizo tung
Yes indeed, I can wait
But not as a silly half-wit
That step by step policy
Is getting me out raged with fire fury
All of those ages must make you sage
Be wise and release me from my worldly cage.
If God is everywhere then so is Satan. Perhaps they are one and the same, having a good laugh at our foibles
Love this so true .
I am in control now off my devils and writing has helped and I am dislexic poetry helps me learn new words and not overwhelm me like big books or lost off reading
Satan is like a dumb door knob broken on its way to the light.....thru the shadows of words
Knew David Lerner well or as well as you could. He once had a psychotic break in my LA apartment and was convinced my dog was sending him evil messages. I took him to the Fort Hill people at the bottom of Laurel Canyon. He knew from their east coast days (Fort Hill is a 60s cult that has turned into a construction empire). They had done a lot of acid research back when and they absorbed his madness like they were performing a magic trick (There's a great cover story on Fort Hill and their leader Mel Lyman in a back issue of Rolling Stone). My favorite David Lerner line is "I'd rather ride a rocket ship to hell than a Volvo to Bolinas" from his poem The Crucifixion of Johnny Carson. Cool you guys posted one of his poems-- my first poetry book was a chapbook with Zeitgeist called "On This Train." That was a good press and a good scene at the cafe Barbar back in the late 80s
That's amazing man, thank you so much for sharing that with us. What a time to be alive in that era.
Hey man, love what you're doing, today's Bly poem killer
check this out-- I think it's in your wheelhouse--
https://www.vice.com/en/article/nnqjjm/tommy-swerdlow-talks-about-writing-cool-runnings-and-snow-dogs-while-high-on-heroin
I was an actor out here, fairly successful, then traded it all in to be a poet/junkie at the end of 80s, there was a brief but thriving poetry scene in LA then with a reading run by Michael Lally called poetry in motion at the cafe Largo and poets like Wanda Coleman and others. Then I wrote Cool Runnings and everything changed. I went from junkie poet to junkie screenwriter.
Do you guys only post dead outlaw poets or can the living get in on it?
Here's a poem Hubert Selby Jr asked me to read at his birthday party, also I think you'd dig my film A Thousand Junkies on Amazon Prime, my friend Jerry Stahl does a cameo in it, and the movie is about as outlaw and indie as you can get
Here's the poem.
FUNERAL ON FAIRFAX
there's a funeral on fairfax
deposed countesses are spitting
chunks of seeded hebrew
dragging rheumatic husbands
to a suicide of stuffed cabbage and piano music rummaging in piles of unwanted
cossack flatware
loaded in a holocaust garage.
better get their quick
before sharona yemenite she bitch
claims it all as a great day
for the albanian communist party.
there's a funeral on fairfax
the rabbis are looking to score
we've just returned from 4 days of china
the weather was incredible
it snowed huge flakes of geisha girl
but now we're back
& israeli wenches
with eyes dyed beown murder
want to fuck me dry & feed me pita
or blare falafel arias
on the hot rod stereo
of their jerusalem toyotas.
there's a funeral on fairfax
the downstairs garbage
is angry hypadermic
there's heroin in the rye bread
beware of bad boys from marseille
the insane girl next door
screams from the dungeon
of her halfway house day dream
"i need to wash my hair"
which sets off a shotgun
of hasidic ballet.
there's a funeral on fairfax
pontiacs grieve
in front of chabad house
an ancient tugboat
with iron forearms
sorts through her bag
of serious onions
she left her teeth to the austrian border
she left her soul to the pawnshop of dachau
she hands her heart to a korean cashier girl
& searches her purse for the pennies of warsaw
there's a funeral on fairfax
i have just crawled out from under
the rock of a 20 hour sleep
& am dragged telepathic
through the mondelbread street
to prayer ground holy land
sam & ruby kosher buther
where i davin before
a sacred breast of veal
or have my chosen shoes fixed
by maury the maven
a million ghosts of ellis Island
a billion years of jew
buying the same terrified flannel pajamas
watching their women
grow strong as they wither
soon I will checked bruised cantaloupe
in bargain fair sandles
soon I will weep over checkers of gibberish
& when I'm gone just tuck me
in the womb of a poppyseed chala
ignite the mystic carraway
& lay me in state at famous bakery
next to the seven layer
of my childhood best behavior
there's a funeral on fairfax
it's mine.
That was fire man, hell yes, and I do share poetry from the living. I'll check out your film on Prime too, seems right up my alley. Damn, you wrote Cool Runnings... that's amazing. Appreciate you following this page. Shoot me over some poems and I'll post them on here. Or some recommended works. Thanks.
Hey man (what's your name?) you got an email or just send the poems on this thread?
Hey man, here's two poems
I Am The Glorious Fuckup
I am the glorious fuckup
Pulling rabbits from inadequate
Screaming that the world is flat
Waiting for the gas bill to arrive by flaming arrow
Listening to dick-jazz
In the men's room at the Louvre
I am the glorious fuckup
My camouflage glows in the dark
To protest my successes
I changed my name to welfare
I went on a six-month hunger strike
I gained a hundred pounds
They sent me to a responsible specialist
With spasms of adulthood
He prescribed a high-powered telescope
I saw all the way to car insurance
He sent the bill straight to a collection agency
Said he saw it in the x ray
I am the glorious fuckup
I'm broke down
Shot up
Pissed off
Shat on
Lived in
Thrown out
A cancer with a case of gout
I am the glorious fuckup
First violin at the sabotage academy
Mastering in you just wait and see
There is not enough garbage
For my landfill of potential
I'm a tragedy
A cryin’ shame
Known to others as
Saint credit bad
Saint jaywalk gone to warrant
Saint always smoke in bed
I am the glorious fuckup
Why you should’ve seen
My crack at the big time
I blew it so fucking beautifully
They’re still not talking about it
and
Lost For Good
I’m lost now
Lost for good
Even the streets are too good for me
Have you ever really contemplated
The arrogant nature of energy
It doesn’t give a shit who’s right
It just cares about moving forward
And whoever gets in the way be damned
I got in the way
And bled out of my ass for forty days
And two Arabian nights
I begged them to put me out of my hysteria
Warm milk and methadone were not enough
I kidnapped crippled children and held them hostage
The ransom, an ounce of water sucked through a sponge on a stick
I sat in that chair at the Steven Spielberg memorial hospital for sixty-six days
And I made something of myself
Couldn’t even lift my head
To tell the infectious doctor
I’d never be the same
It was all a mistake
A simple little sleight of hand
Where they take your pulmonary valve
And put it on your aortic
And then they put some dead guy’s frozen pulmonary
Where your pulmonary used to be
(They put a heart where your heart used to be)
I took it like a man
And when they couldn’t medicate my pain
I screamed like a man
And when told me to just shit in my bed
I shat in my bed like a man
And when they tried to shove a tube into my lungs
through my nose
I folded my cards and got up from the table
And walked into the mist that only Jesus has time
for
And I said “dear god, what have you done
You had it all
You were a bird with heavy wings
A delicate blend of fortune and misfortune
A black soul in a white dress
Capable of appalling and noble crimes
And now you need three five hundred pound Samoan
candy stripers to lift you up two inches in bed
My dear tiny child, what have you done?”
Your balls are as big as a cantaloupe
And they want to dialysize you on national radio
And the Jewish hallway of death
Where you shuffle to stir your conflicted bowels
Is a gallery of popular art
And the shortstops are from the Dominican Republic
And the nurses from the Philippines
And you are from Great Neck, Long Island
And communism is dead
Satan was the pony
We used to have a goat in the neighborhood named Lucifer
I have an owl picture on my back door-
God can’t help you now.
This is fabulous.
In addition, Satan , the Devil, Lucifer, and there are other names, are very real, and their greatest trick is convincing it ain’t so.
Darkness, indeed.