J. Christopher Alexander's NICKLE

A Nickle In A Pile Of Chump Change

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‘Noon Nap’

By: Branded Boi

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Needle In The Hay - Elliot Smith

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Oh will you take me as I am?  Will you take me as I am?  Will you?

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Create with us. ( photo by TigerDiv ) 

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grab a match you’re on fire

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Leonard Cohen - Steer Your Way

Steer your way through the ruins of the Altar and the Mall Steer your way through the fables of Creation and the Fall Steer your way past the Palaces that rise above the rot Year by year Month by month Day by day Thought by thought Steer your heart past the Truth you believed in yesterday Such as Fundamental Goodness and the Wisdom of the Way Steer your heart, precious heart, past the women whom you bought Year by year Month by month Day by day Thought by thought Steer your path through the pain that is far more real than you That has smashed the Cosmic Model, that has blinded every View And please don’t make me go there, though there be a God or not Year by year Month by month Day by day Thought by thought They whisper still, the injured stones, the blunted mountains weep As he died to make men holy, let us die to make things cheap And say the Mea Culpa, which you’ve gradually forgot Year by year Month by month Day by day Thought by thought Steer your way, O my heart, though I have no right to ask To the one who was never never equal to the task Who knows he’s been convicted, who knows he will be shot Year by year Month by month Day by day Thought by thought

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Elliot Smith: Angeles

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new york, 1950 par le photographe américain Peter Basch

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What Once Was Now Used To Be  or Sex AND A Signature on The Checks Written by J. Christopher Alexander 2016 What once a thoughtful memory is now empty reverie,the reflecting of the person I once was and now used to be, what once was confidence now used to be at best a series of second guesses at a former address, What once was dismissed now used to be dismissing and is the hissing of a late summer lawn somewhere on the upper west side after all the jurists have gone. Somewhere in my back alleys off a side street there is an allegory that might inform my former self whom I’m informed is really still a tourist as far as the purist can judge from his performance. Why can I not relate to any living relation, why do I wish to vacation somewhere meridional, just to have somewhere warm to remain, forgive me my wasted transgressions and staid patronage by way of this conditionally limited admission of shame. Any nascent contrition please consider given my intermittent consciousness thus tends to hurry up and wait. Might that my words eradicate my shame as I trace my shoelaces in a search for my misplaced acclaim. with the sage advice savagely I assuage the wreckage of everyone else's past when I lie and said nothing lasts like lasting protection or whatever bullshit they shovel in one hell of an election year . trekking nowhere in the hope of a paycheck expecting a little speck of dope, maybe see us through this wreck of a day, a kiss on the neck to maybe, shake the malaise or disturbing all the urban decay. What was once the tribunal now used to be the usual. I once was a genius now I used to be unusually stupid. Once I was the student now I used to be a teacher. I once was rich now I used to be merely affluent. Standing at a urinal, prayer in our hands, the hearse ran a red light on my way to carrying myself to be buried somewhere outside. Suspect there isn’t anywhere we’re getting laid, standing at a urinal, prayer in our hands, demanding a manner made, finds us getting paid. Staring at my best made plans and unhappy to find I was right. The bed for myself was made up extra tight. What was once viewed with impunity is now a closing window of opportunity now used to be the door and who knows what the hell is  pouring all over the floor. What they once swore was the answer now used to be the same questions; usually boring, mine and yours. Whores used me so enormously through so many horrors, wouldn't know how to word them anymore. What once I’d expect now used to be my expectations what was once my truth now used to be speculation and I suspect the universe is certain to flow on as it must and what's the use of getting all mixed up in a sick complication and getting all vexed up. When all the public expects is sex and a signature on the checks. Sitting back and counting residuals from reality programming when the only thing people give a damn for is Pnp and grainy footage of people slamming themselves, wrecked already and ready to be wrecked on deck. Just beware of any offer that includes money out of pocket or deals done. “on speck” . And should you do, than you know which real to expect. #poetry #slampoet #punch #Gutterlairette #poet #streetpoet #wordart #vegas