Sex and Death

August 8, 2013


Blueberry wine

Sex and death


An old farmer friend

Who once sold it in

One gallon jugs

Has gone legitimate


Fancy labels

Lower alcohol

Higher profits


Other Ideas

August 7, 2012



Teenage hoods and

Their girlfriends

Around a small fire

On a hot August night

Near my place

Cops have tried

To chase them off

For years

But the teenage hoods

And their girlfriends





February 25, 2012


Some people scoff

When I tell them

I have been to see

A rock show

Put on by some geezer

Old enough to be

In a fucking home

Like Lemmy from Motorhead

Go ahead and scoff





First Base

October 16, 2011


I am


This century


And more

Every day

It is like

A new girlfriend

You have only

Gotten to




A New Road

July 1, 2011

I like

A new road

Every rock



There for me

To carve with

My jeweler’s eye

Like I was just born


Into what John Cale called

The bright light of day

Phoned My Dad

June 26, 2011


Phoned my dad

In Newfoundland

His old lady

Answered the phone

hello there beer

She got my dad

He sounded good

For a man

The doctors operated on

Three days earlier

His sister and her husband

Are celebrating their 50th anniversary

Sit down dinner

A band for the scuff

In a church hall

That once

Was the church

My dad

Operated a film projector

In the basement of

Before he joined the army

Fucked my mom

And made me

After we talked a while

He had to let me go

He had to take a pork roast

Out of the oven

He did not even mention

The riot

Insert Poetry Here

June 26, 2011

Now that the Dope City Free Press has cloned itself, resulting in this Word Press version of the original Google creation, I have been trying to think about just how to use this space to communicate with you, communicate with you on different level if possible.

First, I thought, maybe I could make this Word Press effort Anne Murray all the motherfucking time. That would take one fuck of a lot of creativity. Anne does not do much besides her charity work, golf, drink whisky, listen to Elvis records and cheer for the Boston Bruins these days. Not that much to work with really.

Other ideas, even less well thought out, came and went. Do all my horse racing writing that most of you slot playing assholes do not read anyway; write a boring as fuck civic commentary – that seemed a little too grown up – the mayor is a shithead, blah, blah, blah; nothing I could do well when I am drinking beer.

Then it came to me – do something I am already doing but only do it here. Think I am going to make this the place I write my poetry. That should keep 99% of you away.


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