BY Husam Salman
For my love for you
I
I saw the best minds of my time painted, paraded on the stage of madness drawn near to the brink of truth for teacher lessons learned, hysterically laughing, bleeding sugar drops,
Clacking the knee jerked streets from dawn’s snowing hours eager eyes as nets cast shadows of desperation or hungry horned-up want,
Astro-beatnik hipster clash, burners present one-love cosmic connection dawned by light of day and togetherness,
Though economic strides are Sisyphus like slides modern drear, called out to deaf ears,
Jaded strain a wide range that play the ground game all craving music, who danced under full moon light for the spring goddess to bless the coming harvest, ongoing cycle, enrollment is growing,
These the night owls the Hoosiers of mid-century bland return to tighten up already high in anal retention, sipping drinks intentions turn, are overlooked for the jostle jolt and liberating free for the dance floor finds,
Rhythmical jazz dub butt step and hot drop,
Why are your pants dragging and looking like they’re full of poop, poop pants, your belt is on, is it too not working,
Dip dive into the dank recesses of yesteryear only now revived to accommodate the living, thank you renovation, creating new expression side glance, side dance, side step, step it up,
Who walked on stilts and danced in and manipulated rings of fire, listening to some thoughts of terror of the girls in the front row, who breathed and spun balls of fire embers burned,
Champagne fountains in a San Francisco New Year gear, who arrived here for work when school was done to plant some roots mind at peace here at home,
Who scratch their new grown beards cigarette to hidden pillow lips press and puff, who look for the green cross as a shining beacon to forget all hard life rumps bumps and humps of Los Angeles downtown blast,
Who drank fire torpedo shots chased by dive bombers in La Cita, what what, the life hours start late and never seem to end,
With drinks triggering great ideas, with drugs freeing your mind,
Men gaze and toss their every desire into that one look all in the hope that it would land that well sought after smile, with the waking dream that awakens parting the skies in the hope that Lost or the like will not be aired again,
Broadening the view that other personalities exist,
Fry-days that seemed to last into infinity, not wanting my friend to read my mind to find out my dick sucking desires,
Late night park strides and illegal pool break-ins that allowed adolescent experimentation early morning floating romp, with Gods and stars as our only witnesses,
Rare connection for queer folk like I with reserves of true heart patter, light instillation that represents the heart, for it seems that nothing more real exist than that,
Winter solstice drew longer days and brighter hopes emerged, web launch corner turning countdown, still counting down damn it,
Like a phoenix from his own ashes burnt bright return knowing, being, believing,
Hitchhiking across the drunken midnight haze no taxi wants to show good face or faith,
Friedman ranting and Tiki Mike laughing delivers one of his famous quick one-liners,
Who toasted midnight ceremony pretention free,
Who some unite to be 99, who believe that the ‘man’ is now corporation not human,
From money hungry to bottomless hungry pockets that couldn’t be lined enough, who fight for the truth of what each one stands to stand for,
Who are Trannimals little petting zoo of city side nightlife side show, who created the dream for others to believe as possible,
Who make up the masses of tomorrow, who are either great teachers or amazing creators,
Who are the unconditional love without being all in your faced about it, who don’t impose their views on others but are willing to share theirs in the effort to show perspectives of life,
Who in afterhours daze are pushing Soft Pink Truth from tweeters while woofers woof,
Who are advised from a phone app that they are three feet away, two feet away…OMG, it says that you are already inside me right now,
Who chatted for three hours via phone the sent over eight hundred text in the course of three days,
Who are busy with social scenes and live for the soul purpose to review YSL in detail while being total bitches,
Downtown disco queen’s coke dizzy ballads buzzing and nonsense talk of the utmost importance hop from one marble lined high-rise hideout to another revolving door diamond in the rough swinger’s stash,
Drive-by vomit-thorium from checkered vehicles city BOOM style,
Who are aware that everything here is a la cart and too are aware of the cost, whole communities sleep at the same time, dine together and sleep together,
Gather at your sacred space your place of worship the streets that we all walk on we share, who retain views but fade into the ether in respect of the greater picture,
Who walked around subway stops in twilight-dawn, drawn to drinks at the ready and the cheap,
Who chain smoked cigarettes with passer byes bumming into the future,
Who gave us the reiteration of yesteryears bad television in dive right one off conversations, I don’t speak any English, spaghetti,
Who reached out to believe in anything to make life more concrete, amalgams past floating freely unknowing into the future because faggot is a word you call them in flatfoot country,
Who, as a loner, perused the streets of Wisconsin winter chill in the search for entertainment, hustle call girl ho stroll late night drink special,
Who where the shaman and the radical fairies that taught us compassion and love with a new meaning, giving us sight beyond sight,
Who thought they were angry when the towers came down devastated ego supernatural,
Who rode on a Hummer limousine to catch a yacht out of Long Beach, who attend floating house parties,
Who drove out to Lake Havasu smoking bowl after bowl to ignore the heat, who jet skied away to feel free and flew across the water liberation,
Who huffed hungry itch for sex or steak or breaks Huffington Post, and watched t.v. to ignore one another as an American pastime commences,
Who woke up one morning ranting about the starving children of Africa versus our elite one percent who’s luxuries amount wealth beyond modern man’s comprehensions scattered Times pages line the bathroom floor Silverlake commissary,
Who decided that Mexico can be traveled to several times a year without cross eyed looks or evil eye stares, these are the signs of the times,
Who receive anarchist news prints on corners caddy from preacher incoherent Spanish muffled psychobabble hand held amplified heart,
Who believed that stepping out of line was stepping out of order, there were rules for a reason, broken, what is left in sacred space,
Wailed over lost leaders for unity and solidarity, who witnessed the Arab Spring blossom and 99 trip over its’ untied shoes laces, bent over grabbing their own ankles,
Who cried alone at home from belly fat returns tired from gym return asking if it’s even worth it, hungry eyes eager to taste what we are not,
Who believe the grass tends to always be greener, but are content in what we got,
Who sped past police stations putting on a show for cops Kern County, slammer stink, detox tank ripe for the picking,
Who let themselves get fucked in the ass in bathhouse late night Tina turned out grunting pleasure,
Who has nails done to match a cartoon character to please the masses for mass,
Who sucked and were sucked off by the hydra of celebrity, the hero’s picked off one weakness at a time Hawaiian late drive leads to many paths 5-0,
Who cried at the movies of modest sap clutching the arms of love, looking for the rock to swim to in this storm,
Who coughed at the most inopportune times, but made light of the situation in the process scorned eyes of the child by mothers glare in the assault of the tongue sharp as the sword,
Who lost their beaus to fates final snap, the play over, never to return intellectual retort the same again as the deal is sealed, AIDs
Who inoculated a dream of ecstasy to fruition with only a pill and some cigarettes, fuck your Vicks and free hugs, come back down to Earth, thank you Danica,
Who posted hot trick like pieces of ass on a go-go box coaxed into euphoria one dollar at a time into the wee hours, bouncing crotch seems to yo-yo itself closer and closer,
Who went to Tennessee in hopes to connect anew, finding secrets are the greater truths and that we are already one, you already know this,
Who rode on a horse bareback down the mountain only to climb back up it again, who camped in the spring rain of hallowed forest ridge of love lost past,
Who saw the spirits of the forest rise in greeting, falling to knees in the awe of the moment,
Who couldn’t believe how good steak and eggs tasted after getting off the mountain,
Miracle Mile Neptune God swoops in gentle arms blooming heart and one killer side glare,
Who stared at the diluted silver screen as it blurred into 3-D Time Square glare of rhythmic lights and radiant show, look what we can do now with our new special effects,
Who endlessly searched the web for work, waking horrors of money matters and the constant maintenance of oneself, dress to impress yourself not everyone else, though cute when it’s noticed,
Who walked the snow laden trails of Mountain High for a snowboard skids and drunken slurs ranted over a well priced dog or burger, thank you Stephen Alexopoulos,
Who just as fast saw the classifieds for work on Monster or Craigslist, who only received responses from temp agencies or fraudulent theft based companies the scam artists of modern day,
Who only wanted to make it big to move to LA, who found vast meaning and method in life once tried,
Who danced around the sound system almost in a jog in the desert waiting for the sun to rise, who took another hit in order to stave off the munchies,
Who rode open armed Sonoma mystical sun and golden banks, to barren vast nothingness of the arid Arizona plain,
Who drew up plans to create bands, commercials and You Tube videos on the section 8 apartment of the Old Bank district under the revised night lamps of nostalgia, their heads mocked with a light bulb drawn above them once more,
Who ate the tongue taco and strayed away from the side helping of pity in South Park ironic irons,
Who pleaded contemplation of the mayhem of crack dealers on corners right, where are the cops when you need them most,
Who cried at the loss of yesterday and radio repetition,
Who found that cloud nine was only a floor on a building of the many that line the corridors of dampened streets west,
Who walked through the red door in awe at the devastation of crack, both in the surface of humanity and that which makes clucks suck dick behind dumpsters,
Who laughed on sweet penthouse suits under lavender scented candles pandering curiosity and desire,
Who posted videos of late night depth only to hear its’ incoherence in the pink and orange tickles glowing hands of morning,
Who ventured to Little Tokyo in the search of the unknown and pursuit of titillated taste buds,
Who befriended those that don’t eat anything with a shadow,
Who kicked off the shoes of responsibility only to have the alarm bell fall on the heads of the wicked wrestles,
Who scavenged the flea markets for benchmarks re-sellable nostalgia,
Who wanted to torch the selective few of Wall Street’s gold lined mavens for the reckless search of more money under any means necessary,
To whom Absolutely Fabulous was a time of day and not a British comedy,
Who shared knowledge as it was repeated to us on every billboard city sidewalk television illusions attacking every weak minded cunt, wet back and negro,
Who squatted down parks and recreations of modern struggling with each others’ hot headed angry bark,
Who trekked across state lines hollering at drag queens silenced horns Fade-Dra’s phone died,
Who cried for the solitude of the open road and the brief solace of a sandwich at any 76 station rest stop,
Who saw whores praised and paraded on television for the “value” of entertainment,
Who called self-absorbed assholes exactly what they are, who loved unconditionally tried to avoid the negative to no avail,
Who saw no difference in laughing at people as opposed to with people,
Who woke up to a new dawn where boundaries seem limitless,
Who saw the limits of Icarus and surpassed them,
Who thought they were in love,
Who had it up to here with love yet fell in it once again, heart defeated reason,
Who sought out culture on cruise ships and in leather bars, who are more self absorbed than are aware,
Who over ripened with tattoos and cash not looking at the future only the now’s immediate gratification,
Who have boyfriends but tend to sleep with anyone but,
Who travel to the Alps for the search of the perfect slope,
Who didn’t want to be thrown in jail for our beliefs but knew consequence would be a street regularly visited otherwise,
Who listened to the Cerberus of the political circus underground dissecting sound bites digested in the opponents TV arena,
Who demanded earplugs when both sides of the modern isle were but waling women bickering how the other dressed themselves in the morals of a whore,
And instead of freedom’s received apartheid strides and liberties lost, suspended due to the inoculated fear we injected ourselves rubbing wounded arm, hand me the Prozac, this is going to be a bumpy ride,
Who protested picnic style in the park with no clear objective only to be scattered into oblivion by the man, when is that electoral 99% party going to arrive,
Who instead waited catatonic, eyes peeled, for Jackson doctor deliberation verdict, gypsy dance in praise and celebration that another man has gone to jail,
Who would rather be “safe” and happy than to see true justice we owe it to war tribunals, served cold with a side of HBO style death pranced lightly vindication glamorized and evangelized,
Who rode a Greyhound into South America to sample culture, whole foods seemed to have run out along with their souls and reason,
Who mocked movies that advertised a zoo purchased for a little girl on silver screens, while filling out unemployment reminders, bastards,
With mom alone at home, devil dad in heaven, she’s waving at you from her Match profile window, dodging scammers silver tongued bullets in the hope to find happiness again,
Coming down and trying to maintain civility, under a broken smile guise, don’t step on toes, don’t step on toes, don’t step on toes, cacophony coffin of welling emotions running high,
Oh Kwesi, when you run missing the mind wanders and the search begins with trinket in hand shiny lure, hoping you will be led home 3 A.M. red door revisited, you’re lucky to have such forgiving friends and family, Milk, thank you for being a friend Russell,
And who there for went to tranny girl parties thinking you would be safe with that dick and meth pipe dangling from your lips, I was dead wrong,
Who watch horror movies cause life was played too safe out of the rightful fear that drugs would fuck you up,
Who listen to the ghetto masses yell across streets, park bench, reared not knowing any better.
II
I am here with you in Los Angeles:
Where the midnight marauder meanders and mingles mayhem madness,
Where you know without a doubt that you will be “somebody” someday (you’re already someone to me – know that please),
Where lines for clubs don’t exist but rather are placed on coffee tables after the party,
Where wounded knees and pride happen in the cold back room of recessed bar spaces,
Where undulating libidos find their fix with the prize of a simple smile,
Where everyone knows your name somehow seven degrees separated,
Where Miss Barbie Q tells you to Shhh… and gives it to you megaphone style,
Where no matter where you go, there you are,
Where writers need to type in coffee shops because where else will you hear modern diction from your local queen to plagiarize,
Where attitudes run high unnecessarily arrogant and posturing,
Where dropping big names all over the floor seems common place littered like an obstacle course, watch out where you step,
Where friends come and go and come back again,
Where Michael Freidman keeps promising to visit,
Where the waves crash high and dirty and apparently everyone surfs,
Where the faculties of the gym are abandoned for fine dining,
Where you drink green tea from the palms of little women China Town,
Where drinks are slammed on counter tops when your team is about to lose, go Sea Hawks,
Where Pygmalion Latinos are the backbone of this town,
Where people live in private homes behind high hedged estates, killing themselves with their lonely,
Where mercy is something you say in bed with your master,
Where god is a shopping mall and money is your payment to worship, thank you Judaism,
Where the music and movie industries are religiously run,
Where I am constantly searching for betterment through understanding and perspectives learned,
Where everything is at your fingertips, thank you smart phones and Yelp,
Where the mannequin banshees yell from the top of their lungs jonesing for the next fix,
Where daemons are no different than a misconstrued attitude,
Where two people can hold hands and be on separate phone conversations,
Where flip flops are worn everywhere regardless how dirty and dark the sole or weather condition permits,
Where time seems limitless but where everyone is behind the clock,
Where I live in the light of the western front.
