howling at the Moon

Ugly Writers publishes recent poems

updated to reflect recent publication.

Snarling Cup of Coffee

Snarling Cup of Coffee

I like to start my day with a hot cup of coffee
I pound down the coffee
First thing I do every day as the dawning sun
Lights up my lonesome room

Yeah, but not just a simple cup of java Joe, but a God damn snarling sarcastic smarmy cup of coffee
I mean, – we are talking about an alcoholic, all speed ahead, always hot, always fresh, always there when I need it, angry, attitude talk to the hand Ztude, bad, bad assed, beats breaking, beatnik, bluesy, bitter, bitchy, bombs away, capitalistic, caffeinated up the ass, cinematic, communistic, Colombian grown, Costa Rican inspired, Cowabunga to the max, crazy assed, devilishly angelic, divine, divinely inspired, dyslexic, epic, extreme vetting, evil eye, expensive, erotic vision inducing, Ethiopian coffee house brewed, euphoric, freaky, freazoid, foxy, Frenched kissed, French brewed, funkified, foxy lady, graphic, GOD in my coffee, with Allah, Ganesh, Jesus, Kali, Buddha, Christians, Durga, Hindus, Mohamed, Jesus and Mo and their friend, the cosmic bar maid, Sai Babai, Shiva, Taoists, Zoroastrians, drinking my god damned coffee in Hell; growling, gnarly, happy, hard as ice, Hawaian blessed, high as a kite, hippie, hip, hipster, hip hoppy, hot as hell yet strangely sweet as heaven, jazzy, jealous, Kerouac approved, kick ass, kick my god damn ass to Tuesday, kick down the doors and take no prisoners, grown in the Vietnam highlands by ex-Vietcong, Guatemalan grown, kiss ass, illegal in every state, imported from all over the god damn world, insane, lovely, loony, lonely, lonesome, malodorous mean old rotten, motherfucking, nasty, narcotic, never whatever, never meh, never cold, not approved by the CIA, not approved by DHS, not approved for human consumption by the FDA, not your daddy’s sissified corporate cup of coffee, NOT DECAFE coffee, not your Denny’s truck driver weak as brown water cup of fake coffee, not your establishment friendly cup of coffee, Not your FBI coffee, Not FAKE Herbal coffee substitute, but a real cup of coffee, not your farmer brothers dinner crap, not made in America for Americans, not safe for work, not your Starbucks average expensive overpriced crappy corporate chain cup of coffee, Not pretentious, Not White House approved, not State Department safe, nuclear, Not Patriotic, operatic, Peets’s coffee approved, paranoid, pornographic, psychotic, pontific, politically aware, rapping, rhyming, right here, right now in River city, rock and roll up the Yazoo, sad, sadistic, sarcastic, sassy, satanic, schizoid, shitting, silly, sexy, smarmy, smelly, smooth, snarky, snarling, stupid, stinking, sweet as honey, sweat inducing, symphonic, Trump can’t handle this coffee, vengeful, Wagnerian, wicked, with nutmeg and cinnamon swirls, with a hint of stevia, with a hint of vanilla, with a hint of rum, with a hint of whisky, with a hint of cherry, with a hint of fruit overtones, with a hint of drugs spicing up the coffee, spendific, speeding, splendid, superior accept no substitutes, survived the Vietnam war, the Iraq war, the Afghan war, the first and Second Korean war, World War 11, the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on black people, the sexual revolution, Soulful as a summer’s night in MOTOWN- James Brown approved, TOP approved, Berkeley approved, the coffee that Jimmy Hendrix drank before he died, the coffee that Elvis drank on his last breakfast, the coffee that Barry White crooned as he drank his cup of coffee – and the coffee that made the white boy play stand up and play that funky music, the coffee that made Jonny B Goode play his guitar, and made Jonny bet the devil his soul after he drank his morning cup of righteous coffee and the coffee that make the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll, the coffee your mother warned you against drinking, the coffee that Napoleon drank when he became the Emperor of all Europe, the Coffee that Beethoven drank when he wrote the Ninth symphony, the coffee that Mozart drank as he wrote his last symphony, the coffee that Lincoln drank before he was killed, the Hemingway drank before he killed himself, the coffee that started the 60’s, and ended the 20th century, the coffee that Lenin drank as he plotted revolution, the coffee that Hitler and Stalin drank with FDR as they divided up the world after World War 11, the cup that JFK drank before he was blown away, the coffee Jerry drinks while driving in cars with random celebrities and political figures, the coffee that Jon Stewart drinks before he goes on an epic take down of some foolish politico, the cup of Arabic coffee that Sadaam drank the day he was executed, the coffee that GW and Cheney drank when they bombed Baghdad, the Indian cup of coffee that Bid Laden drank before 9-11 and just before the seals blew his ass to hell, the cup of coffee that Tiger Woods drank with his mistresses while playing a 3, 000 dollar round of golf at Sandy Lane golf course in Barbados, the last legal drug that does what drugs should do, the cup of coffee that Obama drank when he became President, Vietnamese, Vienna brew, wacky, whimsical, Whisky Tango Foxtrot, wild, weird, wonderful, WOW, Yabba dabba doo! Yada Yada yada Zappa’s favorite cup of cosmic coffee, and Zorro’s last cup of coffee, Good to the last drop rolled into one simple cup of hot coffee

As I pound down that first cup of coffee
And fire up my synaptic nerve endings with endless supplies
Of caffeine induced neuron enhancing chemicals

I face the dawning day with trepidation and mind-numbing fear
I turn on the TV and watch the smarmy newscasters in their perfect hair
Lying through their teeth about the great success the government is having

Following the great leader’s latest pronouncements
I want to scream and shoot the TV and run out side Shouting “Stop the world.
I want to get off this fucking crazy planet”

The earth does not care a whit about my attitude
It merely shrugs and moves around the Sun
In its appointed daily run

And I sit down
The madness dissipating a bit
And enjoy my second cup
Of heaven and hell
In my morning cup of Joe

Ode to Coffee

Mistress of sacred love
Sacred lady of desire
You start my day
Setting my heart on fire

With your dark delicious flavor
And throughout the day
Whenever the mean old blues come by
You chase them away

With your bitter sweet ambrosial brew
Every time I inhale your witches’ brew
I am filled with power, light and love
And everything is all right Jack

If only for a few fleeting minutes
I love you oh coffee goddess
In all your magical forms

In the dark coffee of the dawning day
In the sizzling coffee in the mid-morning break
In the afternoon siesta break

And in the post dinner dessert drink
I love you my coffee mistress
You are my refuge
From this horrid world

And you are my secret lover
Never disappoint me, ever
I’ve never had a bad cup
Of that I can be sure
Even the dismal coffee
Served at Denny’s at 3 am

Is still sweet loving coffee
Even the farmer brother’s diner coffee
Excites me and gets me going
Asking for another cup of divine delight

Coffee always is there
It is always on and piping hot
With hidden dark secrets
Swirling in its liquid essence

Coffee is my last vice
My only legal vice left
Coffee does not cheat on me
It is always faithful, always true

It does not turn on its friends
And all it asks in return
Is that you come back
Cup after cup after cup

A good cup of coffee
Is a little bit of heaven
In a cup of dark liquid hell

Coffee is like a drug
But a good drug that does what is should
And never complains
It does not get grouchy
It does not hurt you

It does not make you crazy
But allows the muse to come out
And play with it

Coffee led to the American Revolution
As patriots drank coffee
To rebel against the aristocratic English tea

Coffee started the London Stock Market
And started the gossip mills running
Every great invention

Was fed by coffee’s sweet brew sweet allure
All the great thinkers
All the great leaders
All were enslaved to coffee’s magic

I sing my praises
Of the great glorious coffee lady
Long may she continue
To be my sweet companion

Long may coffee continue
To rule my heart
And set my heart on fire

I love thee
Mistress coffee
And sometimes I think
You love me too

No More Coffee Blues


I love coffee

Always have

And coffee has loved me back

But lately I have soured on her

Soured on the whole coffee scene

On the harshness of the morning brew

And the promises it makes


As I sip of its nectar

Drawn into its lair

Drinking drop by drop

As the caffeine takes over


Rewriting my every nerve

Turning me into a slave

For its perverted pleasure

Yes, I love coffee

But I am afraid

Coffee is a harsh mistress

Demanding so much of me


Promising the sun

And delivering the Moon

As I drink her swill

Deepening under her influence

I have the coffee blues

Can’t live without her

Can’t live with her

I try

But tea does not cut it

Not really

Booze does not do it

At least not in the morning


Yoga is not enough of a buzz

Nor is the runner’s high

And I am afraid deadly afraid of cocaine

And speed and drugs and energy drinks


And so, I remain a slave to coffee

My only legal drug

As I sip another and fall under her seductive spread


Once more failing in my resolve

To skip coffee for that day

That morning that moment


I shall never be free of her spell

Ever and she knows it

As she beckons me

Every morning with her intoxicating smell

And I come to her and drink her brew

And become her slave again and again


Unhinged Lunatic Howling at the Full Moon

howling at the Moon

On the night of the blood red super full moon
I sat in an evil, depraved godforsaken bar
Drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew

Washed down by endless rounds of whiskey
rum, tequila, vodka, soju and of course beer

drinking with my buddies the Jack Daniels Gang
Drinking my way to Hell and beyond
Just as fast as I could

twenty damn drinks too sober
Just an unhinged lunatic
Dreaming of howling at the full moon

Watching the world walk by
Looking at all the fine-looking babes
Walking by the street

Thinking wild, erotic thoughts
Of endless wild libertine passions

When into the bar
That din of cosmic depravity

Walked the most beautiful women
In the Universe

So wild, so free
So wonderfully alive

I did not know what to do
As this vision of delight
Sauntered through the bar

In a skin-tight leather pant
Looked so fine
That my eyeballs hurt

And finally, I had to say something
So, I gathered up my manly courage
And walked up to her
And she looked at me

And instantly bewitched my soul
With a devilish grin

I lost all reason
And became a raving lunatic

Unhinged lunatic
Howling at the blood red full moon

Foaming at the mouth
A wild, free werewolf

Howling at the lunatic light
Of the blood red blue full Moon

April 30 In Search of America 1975 – Hitch hiking Tales

When I was young and foolish
Broke and stubborn

I hitchhiked across the USA
Started in Salt Lake City
Where my greyhound bus pass
Was stolen

The station manager
Could have helped me
But refused to do so

Threaten to call the cops
When I grabbed my bags 
Without the stolen tags

I said
Go ahead
But I am so out of here

Wondered about Salt Lake City
Went to a bar
Found I had to buy my booze

Next door
And they would mix it for me
Had to order food too

After a bloody Mary
And a burger

I walked about town
Saw the Mormon Temple
Finally about 3 pm

It was time to hit the road
Did not look back

Ended up in Cody Wyoming
Got a room shower
Steak beer
Using my rapidly depleted cash Spent 25 dollars
Money really went far
Back in those days

A band of professional
Communist agitators
Gave me a ride

To Des Moines
Lots of weed, booze
And politics later

Got off the road
Slept outside

Next day
A beautiful woman
Drove me to near Chicago
In a red mustang

Might have been
The girl in the song
Took it easy

Digging her vibe
She invited home

But was not sure
If her estranged husband
Would welcome me

So, I am being foolish
And inexperienced with women
Did not go to her place

And always regretted
That I had lost
My chance that day

Then on to Chicago
Several rides later
Visited friends

Hit the road again
A series of uneventful rides
With truckers
And others

And a week later
I ended in New York City

Slept along the way
In cars
In truck stops
In high way rest stops

Always moving
Always going

None stop talking
And lots of free weed
And beer

And conversation
One more memorable ride

Occurred outside Albany
On my return to Chicago
A middle age creepy looking man
Picked me up

In a brand-new Cadillac
He was he said a dynamite deliverer
For the Mafia

Went to various places
To blow up shit

He hated a lot of people
Particularly hippies from California

And Jewish people
Looking at me to confirm
That I was both

I told him that I lived in New York
And had never been to California

And although I might have looked Jewish
As I what was called back in the day
A “Jewfro”

I was not Jewish
Many years later I discovered
That I am indeed part Jewish

But then I did not know
And I felt a bit of strategic information
Might keep me alive

Then I realized that he was just jiving with me
And we relaxed

And he pulled out some weed
And beer
And we mellowed out

But I believe that he really was with the mob
Perhaps not a dynamite dealer
A real made Italian made mafia member
By Chicago

I had enough
I called my Dad
Told him what had happened

Wanted a ticket home
And he sent me a ticket
And 500 dollars

And I went home
I told him I would tell him
My tales some day

But never did
I learned so much
About my fellow Americans

And the strange vibe
That was 1975
And now it is too late

But I wanted to finally
Tell the world
Of my hitchhiking tales
In search of America 1975

When Will this Darkness End

As the darkness settles down on the land
All are consumed with evil
Foul deeds and endless darkness

I wonder if it will ever go away
Yes I wonder

If our great nightmare will ever end
Are we doomed
To live out the decline of America?

This is what I pray for 2018
The end of the darkness
The unleashed hatred
that consumes our land

the Bus – Travels Through America’s Underbelly


hitching a ride

I am a bus rider
That makes me unusual
For a white male

From an upper middle class family
Our people are not bus riders
Though some are subway riders

Bus riders are other people
The poor, minorities, immigrants

People who don’t drive
Because they are blind
Or have a DUI

And in my case
I don’t drive

Because I have bad vision
And bad coordination
Just never got the hang
Of the whole driving thing

Fortunately for me
My wife does the driving
But I still take the bus
From time to time

I rode the AC buses in Berkeley
As a child
Line 67, line 51, line 43 F bus
Rode them long before BART came along

And afterwards as well
As an adult seldom rode the bus
But when I did so
I was always impressed

By the sheer diversity
Of the bus riding property
Hundreds of languages
All sorts of sexual orientation
Some were white
Most were not

Most of my fellow passengers
Were nice enough
Some were friendly

And some were lost
In their own thoughts

And a few
Were scary looking dudes
With the look

Of someone who had done time
And were capable of more violence

I also rode the bus
In Seattle as a graduate student

A lot of fellow UW students
And the usual immigrants
Minorities etc

And some white people

And in DC
Over the years
I rode a lot of buses

Mostly to and from the metro
But I got to know

And love the DC buses as well

I also took the greyhound bus
Across the country

Several times over the years
All over the U.S.

From Bay Area to Stockton
From Bay Area to Clear Lake
From Bay area to NYC

All over the USA
Taking the Greyhound

Was always an an adventure
Met a lot of interesting people

As people on long distant bus rides
Tend to open up and talk
To pass the time away

Overseas I took the bus
All over
In India, in Barbados
In Spain and in Korea

The Korean buses
For many years
Were difficult for foreign visitors
As the signs were all in Korean

Most have signs
Now in English, Chinese and Korean
And are much more foreigner friendly

Riding the bus
In America

Allows one access
To the underbelly of American society

The poor, the marginalized
The immigrant communities

That many middle-class white people
Just never see

And for that reason
I am glad
That I am a bus rider

The End



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