Bethlehem

The sun melts in the Middle East
Dripping buttery ichor on the sands
Rifle fire tracing outlines of people
Whose hate is manifest in propaganda

Somewhere the truth is imprisoned
Shackled and crying and maybe tortured
There is no light in that dungeon
There is only sound proofing and metal

Children sport weapons like old school fishing rods
Proud and angry scuttle bugs
The women are dangerous too
The airwaves paint a sordid tale

Here in paradise we drug on MTV
Carry paper signs and sighs
Our enemy is an environmental radical
Setting fire to empty auto dealerships

The burn is coming
We feel it in our DNA
The inevitability of ruin
Dances in the peripheral

The edge must give
The center cannot hold
All things balance out
In the end it's always even

Saddam is a bearded puppet head
Arraigned on television for everyone's bemusement
He reminds me of every assassinated despot
That ever graced the cover of Time

Cartoons are really what it's all about
Bobble headed Bush and his Little Rascals
United We Stand and Divided We Fall
Heed that cliche lest we all perish

I sit and watch and wonder
Where the end will finally settle
As the fear grows like a plague
And the beast prepares to swallow

Copyright 2004 Harry R. Fagel ARR

Announcement

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Wolf

For my friends at work and in the D.A.s office, Mike, Cara, Taleen...
And for the innocent victims.

The rush of the faces passing by
Armies of the night
Street talking and planning
Watching for the next wide eyed fuck to stroll by
Hands deep in pockets
Clutching knives guns whatever
They smell the lambs like cooking meat
An enticing odor that reeks of dollar bills and cocaine too
They know the taste of fear
When they tear it from the throat of innocents
I see them dancing in shadow
Waiting and watching
Laughing and lying
Devil's own
They stand
She's just a visitor here
Safe in the clutch of tourism that blankets the area like soot
She pauses in neon glow and heads into one of the funhouses
That line Las Vegas Downtown, rows of gap toothed clown faces
Enticing the feverish inside, inside
She heads for safe haven to all
The Bathroom
A place to pause collect thoughts and be human
When suddenly the overhead lights are dimmed
By the silhouette of a wolf
Red eyed and snarling he rips the door from the hinges
Fists fall in constant succession
Taps on a casket lid heard in the bleakness of hopelessness
Blood paints and swirls and outlines the area like tiny roses
Wolf runs with her ninety bucks and buys more crack
As she moans on the hard marble of the fancy room
Can my armor be thicker now
Can I still taste freedom and believe that it will all be ok
Can I dance with my children and not look back toward the abyss always beckoning and filled with capering madmen
No
No I can't.
Well I must.
Dance and dance and dance and don’t ever look back.

Copyright 2004 Harry R. Fagel ARR

Blessing

Blessing

The light sometimes just brightens
A subtle thing you hardly notice
And suddenly you realize
That life is a gift
Every great moment lifts us
Every great laugh saves us
Every great love brings us
Forward
My mortality is as real as yours
Hammered out in G-ds notebook
Date time and manner I'm sure
Until then I want to feel the warmth
Of 10 thousand more sunrises
Caressing me and enveloping me
I can't stay in the darkness
Not with these joys surrounding me
My Wife
Sons
Family
Friends
What blessings I know
Every so often a person gives the world something
That all of us can understand
That all of us can believe in
I want to give that too
I want to share this heart I carry
Give it away
Give it away
Give it away
Until it's bigger than me
Bigger than everything
Just a giant beating flower
Thrumming out a rhythm of love
This I can do
This I will do
This I must do
I swear to try
Until my last breath flees me
Until my soul escapes this fragile vessel
I will try to touch...
You

For my Dad....Love Harry 2004

Jimmys Lament

For James Y.

This cesspool I call home
Angels burning and falling daily
Wings curled and blackened like crows
Hitting the hot sidewalk with meaty crashes
I see endless lines of insane
Each a hollow ghost waiting for 15 minutes or less of infamy
I gotta ask myself at times
How do I do it
Stand knee deep in the rage and sadness that bubbles up
Endlessly from crack revenge to rape lust
Could be it's the satsisfaction
Garnished from the heavy clang of doors locking behind the deserved
Could be it's the rush
Felt like no other when all is on the line and life is clicking by in miliseconds
Could be I got no choice
Picked for this I just keep gluing the parts back together
And watch them seperate and crumple
It's a puzzle with at least one missing piece
Always
Yet on I go
Nose to nose with madmen and liars
Smiling through it all
Keeping it simple
Lest I figure it out someday and the boredom kills me where I stand

Copyright 2004 by Harry R. Fagel

For Leilani

For my Wife as Mothers Day approaches....

Belief

Don't believe that I've ever known
Love like this
Getting stronger
Always stronger
Every day
How can it be
That you can come to that place
Where the world stands still
In it you see only the two of you
Twisting and twining spinning becoming
This high ground I know stare out from
Wind rustling ancient grass
The sound of children playing skipping across this sacred height
Reaching my ears and speaking
Speaking
About chances and gambles and life
Some stand at the cliffs and jump
Falling screaming straight down to bitter points
While others jump
Silent as birds they fly
The heavens beckoning like welcoming springs
They go
I go
Ever upward
With Leilani
Don't believe that I've ever believed
That this could happen to me
I always thought the ground rushing up would be there to greet me
Not this lovely angel
This gift from G-d
This blessing
I know the miserable will scoff and cringe
Wishing all the while for a taste of this offering
So I say look at us
Look and believe
Love can be beyond money, fame, or suffering
It can be real
We are
Lovers, parents, friends
We fly

2004 Harry R. Fagel ARR

Joeyanna Part 1

For my buddy Joey. He has challenged me daily to write a poem reference he and I have not until now. I know it's a bit sophmoric but heyyyyy...It is only part 1....

Sparky sparked and the fizzle was
Mazel Tizzle
He bopped across the town
Scooping up scrappers and tossing them in the institution for the
Generally assholish
And he cracked jokes the while
Making us all smile
Turning away the dark that always yawns in front of coppers
Never lazy always crazy
He flys through the town
Tracking down tricksters and keeping society safer
Sparky
Fizzle pop fizzle
Jimmy jam drizzle
Did I mention Mazel Tizzle
He the bomb
Yeah.
Peace to y'all
Stay fresh
I'm out

Decline

In the beginning
Life was basic
One man club armed
Hunting for food
Providing for himself
Just one man
Then came one woman
Life was complicated
Hunting for food
Providing for them
Averting his eyes
Averting his semen
Giving all to the nest
Until
Then came children
Life was basic
Providing for us
Building a life
And so it went
Men met Men and formed cities
Built walls to keep out other Men
Forged weapons to defend themselves from
Other Men
Crafted laws to protect Men from themselves
Some Men were smarter than others
Better with words, better with numbers, just better looking sometimes
They rose and lead the other Men
Gave them hope and dreams that whatever had been created could be overcome
Somehow
Taught them to Hate
Taught them to Kill
Then
Used G-d to teach them Love
Now there were cars and buildings and televisions
People were so complex
The basics got lost in the need for convenience
Slick tongued sales types filled Men with want
Gotta Buy! Gotta Try! Gotta Buy! rang out from
Everywhere
The fat got fatter and the skinny disappeared
Until it was just a big fucking machine
Sucking in money and spewing out desire
Men rolled across the whole Earth
Selling and buying and turning everything civilized
In the bottom of Hearts it was the same
The haves needing the havenots for shit work and the havenots hating the haves for having
Or...
The righteous raining fury down on the sinning bastards who just won't listen
Or...
The scared wishing in one hand and pissing in the other and getting nothing but wet
Or...
The apathetic smoking another joint and talking about it in a giant endless circle jerk
Or...
The depraved really, really enjoying the whole mess
I sit and watch
No one really seems to listen to anything
The ideas around here are based on farts
Heard in the wind and smelled by someone with no nose who writes news stories
I hear opinions based on
Nothing
Whether left right or indifferent it all seems the same
In the end we are going to explode
Eternal fires snuffing out the naked to the anointed
Leaving a gasping husk that may
(or may not)
Support life again
And who will have been right I wonder?
America?
Canada?
Iraq?
Hoboken New Jersey?
Me?
You?
G-d?
In my secret heart I hope my son is right
I really hope he is.
He says...
Love is the most important thing.
He does.
I hope he's right.

Copyright 2004 Harry R. Fagel ARR

Amber Alert

For the missing....

They are out there
Those that harm children
Hidden by their Mothers homes
Sitting in dank basements waiting
They burn with imagery
They taste blood
Their hard sex a testament to evil
And we watch our babies
Riding their bicycles
Skipping rope and hopscotch
Eyes soaking in the sun
While below they wait
The laughter of the little ones a
Beckoning
They wait
Pundits talk about social reform
About rehabilitation
About reintegration
After all
Most of these fuckers have done something hurtful before
So we owe it to them to let 'em out to do it again
Right? Right?
And everyone is so surprised that the guy did a heinous thing before
And they mutter and whisper about inadequacy in the system
Of course
Not all of these demons have a recognizable past
Some emerge as a disgusting surprise
Killing their families
Goin' on a rampage
In the end ultimately
Destroying some small human being somewhere
Some child whose only goal in life was to
Love
The dark is waiting for the little ones
Yes indeed it is...
And I am waiting for the dark
With a loaded .45 and all of my friends
Most of whom are
Mommies and Daddies too
We are waiting for the bottom dwellers
And we are ready

Copyright 2004 Harry R. Fagel ARR

Self Love

I am here.
Really.
Take the lid off and listen.
I am right here.
Come on open up your mind and see me.
I am the color blue that sits on the waves with light.
Feel my spray? Sure you do.
Whether from my lips as I scream these words
Or from the spitting synapses that I fire when you read me
I AM HERE
Hoping to invoke something.
Fear?
Passion?
Hate?
Love?
Who fucking knows I sure don’t I just fire it out there with this keyboard blunderbuss
Hoping to strike somewhere and make it stick so you feel it tomorrow or even next week.
Am I so mean?
So dastardly to drug you with me and make you smell, feel, taste me?
I want to.
Without you I am not here.
Without you I am just Jeremy sitting on my sea of white with a typewriter and no paper
Without you I am just a sea of holes.
Interact.
I must.
This is my breath. Sucking it in and blowing it out letter by letter.
Word by word.
Linking these thoughts and anchoring them to you and thereby anchoring me to here
I am here.
I am.

Copyright 2004 Harry R. Fagel ARR

News Reel

Beauty is sometimes caught in the flash of a strangers smile
At times reflected in the gloss of lipstick on your wife
Or in the laughter of your babies playing in the grass outside
It is so important though
Filling us with purpose and reason
A way to look past the madness of impending doom
That screams from the throats of the miserable
Every news program crying about the falling sky and
Chemical deaths
Every specialist appearing grave and serious
The new Soap Opera is spelled out in journalism
The faces of the harbingers adorning billboards and print ads
They bring the end in bits and bytes nightly at six o'clock and
Seven o'clock and Eight o'clock and forever o'clock
There is no safe haven from it
You can feel the fear thrumming beneath the city like an ancient machine
Spilling out waste from every orifice and poisoning the well we drink from
How can you dance when it might be a land mine you dance on
How can you sing when it might alert the snipers to your whereabouts
How can you paint when the shadows might see it as subversion
How can you love when we need so bad to hate
Beauty is my sanctuary
I find it everywhere in all things
Whether sexual or fanciful or literal or complex
I revel in it
If not I gotta turn and face the lies
On every channel and in every newspaper and out of the mouths of the average everywhere
The stinking pit of negative sucking us in sucking us all
Ripping the light from us in lengthy gushing strips
Find the beauty implore implore explore find it before it's too late and we are nothing more than
Shit boxes for self-righteous cats
Find the beauty please a pleading plea coming from the center oh please find the beauty
Even in the spin find it dancing among the half truths and quarter truths and zero truths there is even beauty there...
Maybe just because that news anchor is just so beautiful. That is enough.

Copyright 2004 Harry R. Fagel ARR

Cuckoo

So just when you think the bottom is here
After crashing through a thousand doors
It is inevitable that a time will come
When the abyss will open and dump ya' down
So there we stood
Frazzled detectives with yet another search warrant
Staring at the aftermath of a special weapons and tactics section entry
Only it wasn't them
It was the occupants who wrecked the place
A Lortab junkie Mom
A prostitution directed teen girl
“The Friend” (another pro in training) and
The Son
Twenty years old and already fucked
Couple that with 3 dogs, 3 cats and it still way below the average meter
But wait
What’s that?
What shadow lurks down the feces strewn hallway?
Just behind the master bedroom door
Something waits
Wicked and ancient and frightening
It poises ready for the unwary and uninitiated
Breathing pure unadulterated evil from every pore
You can almost sense the vileness even over the general stench of the place
We enter
There he sits, majestic and terrible on his fluffy pillow throne,
Staring at us with a patient horribleness
The master bed his resting spot
A pedestal of his own making
He bleats softly and then shits
Blowing 20 or more rounded pellets across the once white pillow case
They pile up behind him like a testament to Cocoa Puffs
I’m Cuckoo...really I am
What in the name of the good lord is a Goat doing
Living so high among humans?
Yes an honest to goodness goat livin' large on the bed,
Mocking us mere mortals
Daring us to challenge his visitation
I had to know What? Why? How? and made the mistake of asking the aforementioned occupants.
It wasn’t a satanic sacrifice or some weird sexual deviance or even just being extra filthy.
The goat was living inside for one specific and very justified reason:
The horse died.
Fearing depression of the gravest sort, they moved in Mr. Goat before he could kill himself in anguish.
This must be the bottom. It must.

Copyright 2004 Harry R. Fagel ARR

Vin

I am Vin....Diesel that is

I am Vin Diesel
I feel the blood pumping through me now
As I dance the adventure dance
This is my destiny
Fan boy I have never before been but now I am
Vin Diesel
He like me is bald
He like me is tattooed
Yes the similarities end there but
I will become
Vin Diesel
My fat will shed like a mob running from crowd control gas
My little girl whine will become whiskey rough and drowned
I will be tougher then ever before when I become Vin Diesel
I watch him act in totally hard guy roles yet still know him as the bad ass yet gentle Iron Giant
Can I do it can I really do it
Obsession is a bad thing it makes you out as the weird fringe bastard who always looks through glass
I will not be obsessed no...
This is a vital epic
I challenge I must conquer
To become Vin Diesel I must just
Become
Vin Diesel
I will wear tight fitting wife beater shirts and leather pants
I will drive faster than shit
I will open cans of whoop ass for anyone who crosses me
I will be the Johnny Cash of roughnecks
The Elvis of rowdy sons of bitches
The Kojak of baldies
I will be Vin Diesel
Watch out.

Copyright 2004 Harry R. Fagel ARR

Past Present

Where are you now?
Do your ghosts whistle at you from multiple pasts?
Drifting from tree to tree like rabid spider monkeys
Taking down every accomplishment to some
Shit-stained and reeking level?
My curse is painting over.
Covering the good with gooey reasoning and
Coloring it with worry.
Every great deed cemented to what could have been better
Every fantastic moment
Silent for a second
Surrounded by a graveyard of empty dreams.
This is the curse of the blessed.
I stand tall as fire with love cradled in my arms like manna
Love from all corners, all sides, all.
Yet I cannot revel.
Must not revel.
I dread the day when the carpet of success is yanked harshly
Spilling me forward
Dropping my love like small gold ingots that fall through the
Cracks into a sewer of lost things
Leaving me alone on a twisted hill,
Wretched and fat and lonely.
Hues drained from the day and leaving a bleak landscape of neutrality.
So I burn now.
Trying to stave off the fear of loneliness by heroism and kindness.
Giving everything to everyone and all the time.
Hoping.
Dreaming.
Praying.
That my star is not crossed that my path is not poisoned that I am really living in this Heaven.
That my choices have saved me from my childhood.
That I live now as a model for my children.
As a husband to my wife.
As a warrior for my city.
As a Man.

Copyright 2004 Harry R. Fagel ARR

Scoop

For my buddy M.McNett. One of the finest damn detectives this side of the galaxy.

Human beings are vessels
Great jars that hold the soul inside
Energy crackling from synapse to synapse
Code written in the tongue of G-d
If you took a baby chicken
And held it in your hand
You could feel the heart beating the feathers
Warm against your palm
Sense with the primal side of self
That it lives
Kill it
Fry it in oil
Savor every morsel as you chomp the remains between clenched teeth
Tasty it becomes
That sense of life a dim if even resident thought
Just food
Just meat
Like people
They breathe and fuck and talk and laugh
They cry and think and stink and fall
They go and come and see and do
Until some mystery or truth comes along and they die
When it's murder
They end up on a plastic tray with blood drains on the side and bottom
An overhead light illuminates them fantastically
As the cutting is begun
Sharp is a relative term
A scalpel is the epitome of that
Watching the examiner slice and dice and open up the secret package we all are
Exposing what is certainly better left inside
Tissue and organs and blood and tendons and bone
Revealed to the watchful eye of the truth seekers
Some might balk at such a final indignity
I did not
I merely observed
As meat and more meat and more meat was removed, weighed and dissected
The once human being scooped out like so much potato salad
The truth revealed in the middle of all that gore
A knife wound puncturing from front to back
A tiny cut on the outside
A ripping wound on the inside
Killed him
And now the truth known and disseminated
A final pop as his skull is opened and his brain removed
Doll-like the now empty mannequin stares at nothing still
Just a bag of rotting
The soul aint there
So it doesn't hurt
It's just like the chicken
Without life a person is just so much
Worm food
So I strive to live
As long as possible and
Keep seeking the truth

Copyright 2003 Harry R. Fagel ARR

Best Dressed

I look at my infant son
I see the bright colors he wears
The puffy one piece fleece coverall with footies
The cute hat with ears that stick up on top
I wonder why
I can't dress that way too
We can't dress that way too
Imagine a world where we get into comfy
Oversized britches with tan airplanes stitched in the sides
Or a button down tuxedo shirt that ends in an easy access button flap
For elimination or procreation or flatuation
How simple it would be
All of us
Osh Koshing our way to work
Too long sleeves serving handy as nose wiper
Going to the Gap to buy an adult sized bib for that special date
I would have a closet of two piece matching flannel button ups with cartoon characters emblazoned everywhere
Why the pretentious overtones of BeBe and Gucci
Let's Carterize
I picture myself in a bright blue shirt with extra wide button side collar,
Red overalls with a yellow moon and a green star being jumped over by a happy cow
And white socks with slippy bottoms and a comfortable pair of felt shoes
Imagine
We would all get along then
We would all be too cute to hate
Imagine

Copyright 2003 Harry R. Fagel ARR

Maybe

Words fail me sometimes
Dripping down into a deep crevice where I can't reach them
No matter how hard I try
They mock me
Remind me that I could write
Once
But maybe not again
I was funny
I was brilliant
But like silver I am oxidized and ineffective
A filthy spark plug missing the cylinder
My banner tattered and frayed the old words barely legible on its tired surface
As I look for the shocking
Or rocking or cocking or just one fucking word that brings on a tear
A smile
Laughter
Anger
Sex
A missile that blows someones world in two or at least makes a crater
But
I
Can' t seem too...
Instead I whirl and twirl dancing with those ghosts of experience
Bitching and whining about the good times
The great tastes the
More filling
And hope I don’t go the way of Pearl Jam and
Have one hit and 3 pounds of shit
But at least I'm thinking about writing
I'm imagining writing
I'm pretending to write
Or maybe it's my ghost
Shade of me whacking away at the keys if you please
bringing forth the vomit of the sub sub sub conscience and splattering it hither and yonder
Or maybe it's not.
Maybe I just dream of fame and so the words spill forth my wet night ejaculate of thought
carrying me towards lifestyles of the rich and famous and satisfied
Or maybe it's not.
Maybe I’m just empty and looking to refill the think tank again with
Some wayward drama that I observe or participate in
Some creepshow I have backstage passes to and pray for as long as I don't die in it 'cause
Then I couldn't write about it
Maybe this poem is the key.
Maybe not.

Copyright 2003 Harry R. Fagel ARR

Married with Child

She talks to me about politics
When I respond that I like her tits
She becomes angry
I just don't understand
I believe her view point is as important
(if not more important)
Than mine
I just believe that a good fuck helps the mind relax more

I ask for oral pleasures
All the time
She asks me to clean up my office
All the time
We are both such
Procrastinators
Nothing important to either one of us
Ever gets done

I focus
Really try to focus
On the art of staring straight ahead
In the gym
But she tells me look at that ass
And I do
It's nice
But I forget and start talking about it
Instead of just looking
Maybe I would understand
If I showed her the guy with the donkey dick
And she licked her lips
four times

I complain about my childhood
And bitch about my job
Im a self righteous bastard sometimes
I even holler at my son
Sometimes I'm just sad
Sometimes I'm just drunk
She still holds my hand
And makes love to me
and smiles
G-d how I love her

CASH

For Johnny Cash 1932-2003

I think of that voice
Rough as a long day yet as appealing as ice cream
Softly singing about the pain in all of us
Or the passion
Or both
I am saddened at his passing
Strangely mortified
Even though I am a new fan
I heard him as a child
Mono phonic from the obligatory 8-track my da' was constantly playing
I never really listened all that much until I was a Man
Then he meant more to me than I could describe
Somehow Johnny stands for the simple common one
The mistake making heart breaker
The truth
His trademark discourse blazing heat in my life
Helping get me through the dark patches
Enriching the great moments
Leveling my unbalances
I saw him on a talk show recently
Old and tired
Lungs filled with impending death
These were his last legs
His final chants
His fire was still ringing
Tho
As he spoke of never ever quitting
Then his June passed
So he did too
Taking a last trip to Jackson before falling from here
Celebrity I just can't see him that way
A man who shopped at the mall with the rest of us heathens
I wish I had a chance to drink a beer with him
Alas
It's too late
So I’ll have one for him and
I’ll give my love to Rose as well
Dear Mr. Cash

Copyright 2003 Harry R. Fagel ARR

Sam and Jacob

When I see them
The Children wrought from our love
I can't explain
How I feel
All the poetry in the universe
Fails me and I just
Just, just
Choke
A small hitch in the back of my airway
I feel it ride inside my head
All the way to my eyes
Where poised on the brink of knowledge
A single tear forms but
Never slips
Instead it just washes my eye
Never falling
Like a wishing star that never reaches the ground
It causes pinpricks of light to bead up and
The world gets surrounded by some magical glow
Maybe even a Halo
I see our Children
I hear their laughter
I cringe at their fears
I dance in their eyes
The world
Full of talking heads and looming wars
Becomes abstracted, lessor,
Background noise
Replaced by the idea that the spirit is a real thing
That life is a gift to be cherished
That the answer is in the love we give
I should bottle this somehow
Give it away for free to all people
Let them revel in this joy I have found
Let them taste the idea that there is hope for us all
Let them know what I know
We have a chance.
We do.

Copyright 2003 Harry R. Fagel ARR

Magic Island

Where do they go
After all the explosions and police and social services
When the lab has been confiscated and Mummy n' Daddy sit in stone rooms
They still clutch teddy close
Maybe closer
They contemp