Thursday, October 14, 2010


The Son of Adolf is walking down Howard St.
The Son of Adolf is yelling in broad daylight

An American flag hangs off the rooftop of a rowhouse behind him
The trees are in full bloom, he doesn't notice

The Son of Adolf

wearing blue camouflage shorts
carrying a black duffle bag
His blue eyes glisten
His blonde hair hidden by a hat
He yells, I listen:

"Don't mess with a mess,
You're not gonna light up,
you're gonna burn, bitch
If you want to suck my dick
you're gonna have to lick my ass...
I am the Son of Adolf"


A girl in a wedding dress waiting at a New Jersey bus-stop,
uncut grass all around

Cold & brutal ambient destruction, ruthless pounding

Slowly seeping into your subconscious, pleasantly taking control,
planting seeds, making suggestions
thinking that it's your own decision

The smell of shitberries fill the small alleyways of Center City, Philadelphia: Quince, Latimer, St. James

My girl Missy never comes but she's always here:
teasing & tempting but never letting.

Guido Charlie, Aryan Lucy & Black Stan

Saucer of Loneliness, Eugene Andolsek, Crime Dreams, Savage Skulls, Roberto Fonseca

Hatred, Pains & Positivity

When I'm laying in that hearse, so peaceful & nice

When I a make a selfish decision it seals my fate

Melanie Hammond Smith, Little David Speaker, VRILL

Inherited laziness, cultural egomania, thinking suicide is a punishment

Loud Spanish music in a Kensington bar

"A Normal Man's Biggest Wish"

I have a catalog of your fears stashed away in my brain.

It's the Masonic Devil in me, perpetuating secret societies. Unlinked, unbeknownst other than to others with the same unseen character.

Wes Almond, Les Montgomery, Summer Bump

Cocaine Dreams, Codeine Pre Sleep

"In Atlantic City, on Pacific Avenue, at the Abel Manor, you can't fall asleep", She cried.

Monoculture, human future, Crack Cocaine, Heroin, LSD,
When I am Old

"Hey Little Woman"

actual scribblings from a notebook, not a poem, no phrases were written in relation to each other if there is a space between them

Friday, May 14, 2010


Another Cell Phone Set. Number 29. Not much to say about these. The top photo is my new apartment. It's on the same street that I live on now. Bottom photo: note the modified cardboard box cages on the top.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010


She was a waitress, she smoked for years
and in 12 years she hasn't cried a single tear
She loves a good drink and needs a young man
its not even clear if she does this to feel young again
Her skin is like leather and her lips the same
her jacket too, the leather to conceal the pain
She was married to at least one alcoholic bear
I know this by his initials tattooed on her ear
sometimes when we are finished and laying there
I hear a perfect silence, a stillness in the air
My Haggard MILF doesn't love me
and I like it that way


Standing, hiding in an alleyway
watching people look over their shoulders.
I make a slight ruffling sound and
watch them look around.
There's a thin coat of snow on the ground
but that doesn't matter very much
I got here, to this receded doorway
before it landed.
I'm looking in the windows.
Watching steam rise from the sidewalk
Watching my breath meet the air

Passerby's, imagining someone to be watching
thinking what kinds of things I could be thinking.
Quickening their pace,
wondering if in the receded doorway
they actually caught a glimpse
of a hidden man's face.
I don't know exactly what's going to happen tonite
That's why I came down here.
Hidden between the buildings
testing others & my own fear.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010


Finally another cell phone set. This one is #28. It's been a while.
The top photo was taken on Allegheny Avenue, near Kensington Ave. This cross looked pretty ominous in the foreground of a smoke-filled sky. It was taken the same day as a previously posted picture, the middle photo of Cell Phone set #25.
The middle photo is more of a story than a photo. The middle emblem is approximately 8 ft. tall. It is on the wall of a biker gang's clubhouse. Their name, obviously, is the Savage Skulls. They are a Puerto Rican gang that originated in the Bronx in the 70's. Their is a documentary from that era, documenting them, called "80 Blocks from Tiffany's". You can watch it in 8 parts on youtube. I learned all of that after I happened upon their Philadelphia clubhouse. The only way you can get in, is to know somebody. To go their with somebody who, by bringing you there, vouches for you. It is on a very bleak & relatively miserable tiny alleyway, location undisclosed. It looks like an abandoned row-house. One of the many men there, with this logo on their jacket, stands blocking the doorway. You walk up an unlit set of stairs where, at the top, a few more leather jacket wearing men frisk you. Once up stairs there are multiples pool tables, couches, strippers, a stripper pole, early 80's rap music, a bar with only 2 kinds of beer & this giant logo painted on the wall. Not very many people go there & those that do seem to be very respectful & friendly with one another. If you want more stories than that, you'll have to ask in person.
The bottom photo was taken last September. This is the legendary, "Frank the Gripper" holding a riot shield and his middle finger up. Taken at work, during a bit of down time.

Friday, January 15, 2010


I creep at the bottom
learning how disgusting all of humanity is
and what kind of animals we all have
inside of us, finding subtle pleasures
in a perverted world.


C and Loudon

Margarita Garabito did it with a metal broomstick
The wound on her head, stuffed with gauze,
covered with a weave, held on by pins, was
7 inches long, 4 inches wide

Charlenni's father hung himself
Suicide from the guilt
after her death, in his jail cell

C and Loudon

Margarita Garabito did it with a metal boomstick
It had been going on for over a year
This, and the mysterious vaginal tears
made her life a pure living hell

Charlenni's father hung himself
Suicide from the guilt
after her death, in his jail cell

true story