Monkey Wrench

Parchment Stains: Turning Pages is available for purchase!: J L Carey Jr's book of poetry: Turning Pages is now available through Amazon!! Please feel free to check it out at : http://turningpages.bo...

The Human House

2011-05-13T19:42:00.000-07:00

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/8029631/the_human_house.html?cat=42

Office Haiku

2011-04-13T12:32:00.000-07:00

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/7958375/office_haiku.html?cat=42

Spring Haiku

2011-04-13T12:24:00.000-07:00

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/7962087/haiku_spring_time_poem.html?cat=42#comments

St. Brigid

2011-03-21T10:27:00.000-07:00

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/7879988/st_brigid.html?cat=42

March Madness Haiku

2011-03-21T10:23:00.000-07:00

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/7868180/march_madness_haiku.html?cat=14

2011-03-20T17:32:00.001-07:00

J L Carey Jr's Contributor Profile - Yahoo! Contributor Network

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In Light of Being, Chromosome 13

2011-03-10T07:34:00.000-08:00

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/7795940/in_light_of_being_chromosome_13.html?cat=42

In Light of Being, Chromosome 13

2011-02-26T18:23:00.000-08:00

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/7795940/in_light_of_being_chromosome_13.html?cat=42

2011-02-19T05:51:00.000-08:00

A new poem "They Sleep" part of an ongoing collection titled "Estranged Union", published on AC/Yahoo.

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/7766128/estranged_union_excerpt.html?cat=42

Turning Pages PayPal Link

2011-02-17T07:41:00.000-08:00

For anyone that would like to purchase my book of poems entitled "Turning Pages", it is available through Amazon.com for $12.95 plus shipping. PayPal link

I am proud to say that the book has received amazing reviews. Thanks to everyone who has supported my work. I am currently working on another book of poems also, which I hope to get published as well. It is titled "Estranged Union" and is in the haibun style. Haibun is traditionally a Japanese style travel journal used to enspire a poem. Here is the latest haibun from the collection:

February 8, 2011

It was 2:00 a.m. and minus 11 degrees outside and I am tired and I am here at Ford Sterling again; again in the filth and the rust and the grease. Today, at 2:00 a.m., I feel no presence of heaven or hell, no reason or purpose for existence. There is only this moment and the promise of its end. I watch the moon drift in the bitter sky, like a glowing cradle in a pitch black sea, in the sour smell of cutting fluid and axles being born of it and I understand that all of this is for nothing. I understand that everything we do in this life is to simply occupy our time, for not a soul can truly explain or understand why we are here, why we exist. Man has no true purpose in the universe. We simply exist to try and keep existing; a warped loop of insanity where nothing really comes of our “progress”, just another generation to pick up where we left off.

They Sleep

They sleep –

Within the maze

Of machines

They sleep –

Through the static

And the hum

They sleep –

As time unfolds

And blankets them

Each wink slipping

Into the past, into decay

They sleep –

As if their bones

Had long been planted

They sleep -

Swayback

2011-02-17T07:17:00.000-08:00

"Swayback" was the second painting done in the barn series. It is acrylic with egg white, just as "A Break In The Clouds" is and falls somewhere between impressionism and pointilism. The painting was purchased and then presented to the owners of the barn as their 50th wedding anniversary present. The barn has since fallen and been removed from the property. Prints of this painting as well as any of the other paintings are still available. The prints are numbered and signed. If you would like a print please contact me at jlcareyjr@hotmail.com and I can send you a price list and payment options.

A Break In The Clouds

2011-02-15T08:10:00.000-08:00

"A Break In The Clouds" was the first painting in a series of barn paintings. I was inspired to paint the barns because of their unique characteristics, but I also felt they were an example of what was taking place in the United States, its decline and disregard for things we should hold sacred.

Parchment Stains: Turning Pages is available for purchase!

2010-11-26T11:44:00.000-08:00

Parchment Stains: Turning Pages is available for purchase!: "J L Carey Jr's book of poetry: Turning Pages is now available through Amazon!! Please feel free to check it out at : http://turningpages.boo..."

New Book being published in July

2010-06-14T09:35:00.000-07:00

Exciting news. I have my first book being published in late July. It is titled Turning Pages. http://turningpages.books.officelive.com

It is a collection of 80 poems that I have dedicated to my wife, Darlene. It is Japanese inspired and each stanza uses the meter of a haiku, 5-7-5 except the third stanza that is one line of 7 syllables. The thematic elements revolve around a Japanese priest named Ajari-Joan. It is also loaded with a lot of philosophy, theology, science and natural law and at times is almost Flarfist in that it was largely researched by long stumblings through information found in search engines, which I felt was appropriate to Ajari-Joan's legend.

For more updates or if you would like to purchase the book please visit the Turning Pages site at http://turningpages.books.officelive.com

2010-02-01T09:11:00.001-08:00

Languishing Hues of White
Elegy Alludes to Langston Hues poem "Dreams"
Read More

2010-02-01T09:10:00.001-08:00

Tonbo, Tonbo
A Valentines Poem for My Wife, Darlene
Read More

2009-04-25T11:05:00.001-07:00

A Poem About Something in My Kitchen, National Poetry Month: Poetry Challenge of the Day
A Frothy Poem About Cappuccino.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1683190/a_poem_about_something_in_my_kitchen.html

2009-04-15T18:17:00.001-07:00

Shadow Puppets
A poem about Easter Morning 2009
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1643447/shadow_puppets.html

2009-04-15T18:11:00.001-07:00

National Poetry Month: Poetry Challenge of the Day, Acrostic Poem
In memory of the litloop. J.A.B.B.A.W.O.C.K.Y.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1652189/national_poetry_month_poetry_challenge.html

2009-04-12T07:30:00.001-07:00

Shadow Puppets
A poem about Easter Morning 2009
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1643447/shadow_puppets.html

2009-04-06T18:18:00.001-07:00

National Poetry Month: Poetry Challenge of the Day
A limerick about good old Flint Michigan.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1628993/national_poetry_month_poetry_challenge.html

Midnight Breakfast

2009-04-03T16:51:00.001-07:00

Midnight Breakfast
A poem about one of my favorite meals
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1621851/midnight_breakfast.html

Haiku

2009-04-02T16:22:00.001-07:00

National Poetry Month: Haiku Challenge of the Day
A haiku capturing the elements of life and the seasons.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1617696/national_poetry_month_haiku_challenge.html

Ghazal of Commencement

2009-03-25T18:42:00.001-07:00

Graduation Poem - Ghazal of Commencement
A poem dealing with continued learning
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1591317/graduation_poem_ghazal_of_commencement.html

The Dancing Flavells

2009-03-17T18:27:00.001-07:00

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Three Lessons for Developing Your Poetry

2009-03-16T18:25:00.001-07:00

Three Lessons for Developing Your Poetry
Three lessons that will help you develop your poetry, spark imagination and break out of writers block.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1545889/three_lessons_for_developing_your_poetry.html

National Poetry Month: How to Write Good Poetry

2009-03-16T18:24:00.001-07:00

National Poetry Month: How to Write Good Poetry
Notes from the field. Some things I have picked up along the way that others could use in their poetry.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1547791/national_poetry_month_how_to_write.html

Astilla

2009-03-16T18:22:00.001-07:00

Astilla
Science Fiction/Horror. A group of friends finds themselves in a dire position after a meteor strike proves to be something more.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1563775/astilla.html

The Adoption

2009-03-16T18:21:00.001-07:00

Mothers Day Poem - the Adoption
A poem dedicated to my Mom.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1565683/mothers_day_poem_the_adoption.html

Bankrupt Bunny

2009-03-16T18:19:00.001-07:00

Bankrupt Bunny
An Easter greeting card message with a satirical sketch.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1555615/bankrupt_bunny.html

Easter Morning

2009-03-16T18:18:00.001-07:00

Easter Morning
A collection of poems that uses the principles of haiku poetry.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1554097/easter_morning.html

The Creek

2009-03-16T18:15:00.001-07:00

Earth Day Poem - the Creek
A poem of the Earth, a poem of change.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1550999/earth_day_poem_the_creek.html

Brad's Video of Doug's Second Fight

2009-02-18T19:13:00.000-08:00

Terminus E Magnum Opus

2009-02-16T18:01:00.000-08:00

Terminus E Magnum Opus

Those naive souls,

__Architects of dreams,

____Idealistic as they were,

Built a giant snowman,

__With coins for eyes,

____Frozen below the weathered colors

That tattered in the whipping wind,

__Like all the others on

____That famous fathers line,

For everything has its time,

__And so the head went first,

____As though the heat were

An atmospheric Psychiatrist

__Over analyzing its issues

____Until it shrunk into non-existence.

The bloated body went next

__Under the constant bombardment

____Of rain that fell,

Like ridicules from heaven,

__Until the anorexic frame sadly

____Pooled into muddled remains,

Leaving behind that distant

__Murky reflection -

____Of America.

A Foot In The Door

2009-02-02T12:46:00.001-08:00

Love Poem: A Foot in the Door
Haiku love poem.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1418072/love_poem_a_foot_in_the_door.html

Dragonfly

2009-02-02T12:42:00.001-08:00

Valentines Day Poem: Dragonfly
A love poem dedicated to my wife, Darlene. Happy Valentines Day.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1422547/valentines_day_poem_dragonfly.html

Sestina: For Chad and Jenny

2009-01-25T05:43:00.000-08:00

Sestina: For Chad and Jenny
By: J. L. Carey Jr.

Beneath the arms of Libra’s stars
We sat nestled by the bon fire,
His hand intertwined with hers,
Her warm eyes dancing with the coals,
Two portals to the heart of Venus
And he was traveling within them,

Carrying the colors through them,
A little prince amongst the stars,
He delivered his flag to Venus,
Dove into her surface fire
To drive his staff into the glowing coals,
Then stood and claimed that he was hers.

But, she always knew that he was hers.
There had ever been a spark between them,
These two bottles fusing in the hot coals
That burned like the breath of a million stars.
Two coils of yellow to mirror the fire
Blazing on the breast of Venus.

I felt the pleasant pressure of Venus,
Of their dog lying against my leg and hers.
I understood his gravity to her, to the fire,
Understood that countless others before them,
Or me, or the dog had sat below these stars
And stoked these red white pulsing coals.

But, now it was our turn for the coals,
Our turn to linger near the heart of Venus,
To balance in the arms of Libra’s stars.
It was as much mine as his or hers,
This circle that we formed as I watched them
Float like embers from the fire,

Drifting on the air, seeds of fire,
Children of the scintillating coals.
I made a silent wish on them,
Caught a wink in the dark from Venus
And new that night the hands of fate were hers
While a million eyes gazed like stars.

Lookers of a past fire, servants of the goddess Venus,
Keepers of coals, they knew this love was his and hers,
Passed it on to them, then, took their place in the stars.

Sestina: For Chad and Jenny
To view the poem Sestina: For Chad and Jenny, please click on the link.

http://brokencogmedia.blogspot.com/2009/01/sestina-for-chad-and-jenny.html
http://www.associatedcontent.comaudio/6636/sestina_for_chad_and_jenny.html

Estranged Union

2008-12-17T17:13:00.000-08:00

http://contemporaryhaibunonline.com/pages44/Carey-Estranged.html

Estranged Union is a Haibun I had published in the December 2008 issue of Contemporary Haibun Online. The online journal is full of great prose and haiku poetry. It is definitely worth checking out.

A Ghazal For Christmas

2008-11-25T08:42:00.001-08:00

www.associatedcontent.com/article/1229942/christmas_poem_a_ghazal_for_christmas.html

Check out the Christmas poem recently published in Associated Content.

Filling in Swift

2008-11-15T07:44:00.000-08:00

http://www.authspot.com/Short-Stories/Filling-in-Swift.339357

Filling in Swift
by J L Carey Jr

Short Fiction. A mafia hit man has been shot and now finds himself in the hospital being interrogated by two officers. In a twist of events though the story unfolds to reveal who the true interrogator was and the lengths a man will go to exact a revenge.

Dougs second Cage Fight

2008-08-23T08:31:00.000-07:00

Flavell Flave 001

2008-08-07T17:58:00.000-07:00

Send a JibJab Sendables® eCard Today!

KY- Mr and Mrs Carey

2008-07-23T15:56:00.000-07:00

Schadenfreude

2008-06-18T08:36:00.000-07:00

Schadenfreude

We can feel sorry for Martin Luther, for
Bobby and Jack and the numberless mourners
Who agonized at the hand of their demise.

There is pity for the duped martyr, for the
Ignorant squirrel or the imbecile dog
Who die their commonly deaths on the roadside,

But we feel no remorse for the big three, who,
While laughing, choke on the fat they render. No,
We grin instead and fix their piano box.

2008-05-05T11:36:00.001-07:00

Show Us Your Art 3
Brickfish

Hello, I have entered my painting titled The Black Madonna into a contest for a scholarship. The winner gets a $500.00 scholarship towards college. I am hoping to win some of these scholarships to help offset my tuition for the masters degree program I recently entered so if you could "help a fellow American out who is down on his luck". &) Thanks.

add Verse, a new blog for poetry

2008-04-24T10:23:00.000-07:00

Hello. Today I launched a new blog for poetry called add Verse. The blog was designed for compiling some of my favorite poems and poets as well as to allow others to share their favorite works also. I am hoping that it allows for some discussion of these works as well as a place where people may go to find or discover interesting poems and poets.

The first poem is by Edna St. Vincent Millay and is titled Passer Mortuus Est. It was from a collection I recently read titled Selected Poems the Centenary Edition. It is a short and enjoyable poem by Americas first woman Pulitzer Prize winner. I hope you enjoy the poem and the site and look forward to any posts.

http://addverse-monkeywrench.blogspot.com/

Catch and Release

2008-04-07T05:27:00.000-07:00

Catch and Release was recently inspired by some talk around the office. A buddy of mine has been doing a lot of fishing lately, but he hasn't really been catching anything. It still got me thinking about when I was younger and where I'm at now.

http://jlcareyjr.googlepages.com/catchandrelease

Ralph Nader on Corporate Fascism

2008-03-28T16:28:00.000-07:00

They're Knuckling Under

2008-03-12T09:16:00.000-07:00

This is the latest piece from the collection I am tentatively titling Tercet By Moonlight. It was inspired by a woman named Murial that I work with. We had a very engaging conversation about the American Axel strike and what she felt it meant to the Union and the Automotive Industry as a whole.

They’re Knuckling Under

Secretive grins smear the high horses faces
Their clever, anvil hammered shoes trampling
The teetering weather weakened picket fence

Corporate Nazgûl, dark riders, kings dethroned
Whose pungent chemical breath chokes and pushes
The whirling feather of solidarity

Union sweat still lingering on the down line
Hopelessly mingling with the fear and blood
It’s true then! Giants do grind their bones for bread.

3-12-08

This morning my wife and I were discussing the ending of this poem and she suggested changing it because it didn't seem to keep the same mood or feel as the rest of the piece. I agreed with her so here is an alternate ending for the poem. Any feedback as to which ending is prefered would be appreciated.

They’re Knuckling Under (Version 2)

Secretive grins smear the high horses faces

Their clever, anvil hammered shoes trampling

The teetering weather weakened picket fence

Corporate Nazgûl, dark riders, kings dethroned

Whose pungent chemical breath chokes and pushes

The whirling feather of solidarity

Union sweat still lingering on the down line

Hopelessly mingling with the fear, the blood

The frost that mantles this unmendable wall.

3-13-08

One Ringer

2008-02-29T06:43:00.001-08:00

One Ringer
by: j.l. carey jr.

The clock loomed high on the wall above the phone. It hung there like the moon over a grave on an old B movie poster. Ominous. I could feel the second hand crawling with the sweat down my back. It was hot as hell in that room, but I couldn’t seem to stop shaking.

“So do you have any kids?” he said, breaking Luna’s silent ticking.

“Um. Yes. Yes I do,” I told him. “I have a daughter.”

“Yeah,” he said, rolling his head from the ceiling to the floor.

“Yes,” I replied. “And do you?”

“I have three.” He grinned. “Three boys.”

I smiled at him awkwardly. “They must be a handful.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“I can imagine three is. My daughter is hard enough to handle and she is only one kid.”

“How old is your daughter?” he asked, with some stern intrigue in his voice.

“She is seven. But, she thinks that she is fifteen,” I added.

“Isn’t that the truth? The man laughed.

I smiled and asked him how old his sons were. The question seemed to stunt his laugh.

“Ahh. Well, my boys are all grown now.”

“Really! Are any of them married?”

“To be honest with you, I wouldn’t know. We haven’t spoken in years. I don’t think they give two shits about me. I can’t blame’m though. After their mother and I divorced I wasn’t much of a father to them. I spent most of my time working.”

I froze for a moment as a beeping went off. Fear and adrenaline charged through me before I realized that it was only the timer on my watch. My brain seemed to cramp as I asked myself why? Why had I allowed myself to get involved in this chaos? Why?

With a breath of relief I shut the watch off and then double-checked it again to make sure. Still bug-eyed, I glanced up at that clock. That damned clock, Luna in orbit. Then turning back to him I said, “I’m sorry. My watch startled me. I always forget to shut it off so every day it beeps at 4:50. You would think that I would be use to it by now.” I gave him a half-laugh that was quite fraudulent and he returned one to me that was equally unbelievable.

“So, what’s your daughter’s name?” he asked as if my little outburst had never taken place.

“Her name is Gabriella or, or Gabby for short.”

“Does her name fit her?”

“What’s that?”

“Does her name fit her? You know the name Gabby. Does it fit her personality?”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, she will talk to you till no end.” I chuckled at my own inability to get what he was saying. “She will ask you questions to the point of insanity also.”

“Yeah. I remember when my boys were like that.”

“Yes. I remember just the other day my daughter asked me how cars moved so fast. I told her that it was the engine of course. She asks then how does the engine work. I say it uses gas. Well how does it use gas and on and on. Finally I had to tell her enough was enough.”

“You do. Sometimes you have to stopp’em or they’ll just keep going.”

“Yes. Yes.” I caught myself staring at the clock again and then the phone. I didn’t want to look at the phone, but I did. Why did I look at it? Why was I even here at all? I should be at home right now. I never should have got involved. I tried to cloud my mind with reassurance. Thoughts of how life would be once this was all over and I had the money to provide a good life for my family. I rubbed my hands on my eyes to try and break the spell. “I’m sorry what was that?”

“I said kids can be pretty unpredictable with what they come up with.”

“Oh. Yes, they can be. Life itself can be pretty unpredictable though.”

“Yeah, sometimes. Although, I think life in general can be pretty predictable. You’re born, you live and then you die. The rest is just filler and even most of that is predictable. I think that’s why most peoples lives become boring and monotonous.”

“Perhaps? Perhaps they only believe their lives are boring and choose to ignore the possibilities that surround them though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes I think it’s the easy way for people to live their simple and monotonous lives. They think that everything is the same old same old even when it is not.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s like when a family member is killed in a car crash. Everyone feels the loss of that person at first, but with in no time at all they’ve moved on. They go right back to Monday night football and P.T.A. meetings and it’s as if that person never existed.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point. Don’t you think your daughter would miss you if you were gone though?”

“Yes. Yes of course. She would be sad for a while, but she would move on in time and go right back to playing Barbie’s with her friends.”

“Don’t you think that it would have a tremendous impact on her life?”

“Yes.”

“It would probably change her personality and her entire outlook on life.”

“Yes. Probably”

“I bet it’s even safe to say…”

Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnngggggggg. It came. What I had feared and prayed against since the night my fate was decided, when I was the one who had been picked to stay back. It had come. The phone had wrung.

I looked at the clock, Luna and her second hand was pulling fast away from the five, as if she were gesturing a wave goodbye. That cold sweaty feeling rushed over me again, as I stood up. I slid my hand into the pocket of my jacket and felt the cold metal of my revolver. I don’t remember firing it. There was only the smell of the gun and Jon’s head drooping over his now lifeless body. His hulking frame strapped in the chair with the black mask covering his eyes, still blocking out his true whereabouts or perhaps now he saw everything perfectly clear? That we had stolen him away from his plush home in the middle of the night and that no one cared enough to get him back. “I am sorry my friend. I guess your sons didn’t give two shits about you.”

Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiinnnnnnnngggggggg. Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiinnnnnnnngggggggg. Brrrrrr.

“Hello?” I answered with terror and shock in my voice.

“Pete! Who in the hell were you on the phone with?”

“I wasn’t on the phone with anyone?”

“Just shut up and listen to me. We got the money, now…”

“You didn’t give me the one ringer?” I interrupted. The sweat and cold seemed a transport to darkness.

“No we didn’t give, wait--tell me you didn’t! Tell me you didn’t!”

“You didn’t give me the one ringer!”

There was another shot. The receiver swung, hanging from the cord. The clock looming--Luna high above the madness. Her second hand still twisted, but the minute hand rested on two after.

You'll Never Walk Alone

2008-02-27T03:54:00.000-08:00

Ralph Nader For President

2008-02-26T12:00:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was quite pleased to hear that Ralph Nader would be running for president in 2008. He is the only candidate that I have ever truly believed could make a difference. If elected he would prove to be the greatest president since Abraham Lincoln. He is the only candidate that would institute any real reform and change, not just spew a bunch of rhetoric about it. He is a man for the people and always has been. He understands that NAFTA has failed and needs to be changed. He is a firm consumer advocate. He has a realistic plan for fixing healthcare in our country and he's just one hell of an American.

Vote Nader 2008.

www.votenader.org
www.nader.org

Road of Ruin

2008-02-11T12:15:00.000-08:00

Road of Ruin

My broccoli mind once flourished with visions
Garden gathered ideals of sun fed import
But devil time shaved ever at the florets

Potholes formed along the folds of grey matter
Cobblestone roads of memories stained rust red
Skull lumps mapped out troublesome finger readings

Resolved I blacktopped over the maudlin street
Pressed my sparsely greens into books for keepsakes
Then plowed on under melancholy blue moon

2-10-08

The Leech Field

2008-02-05T11:43:00.000-08:00

The Leech Field

In the leech field their withering cash cow lie,
Bloated worms clinging like scarlet silhouettes
In hopes the bovine may one day rise again

To suckle once more America’s heartbeat,
Her gluttonous pulse so sweet and fattening
Never minding what their fathers had endured

Old sit downers of the oleaginous hell
Who long held mighty Cerberus by the tail,
Only for their heirs to let it slip away

2-5-08

2008-01-20T12:05:00.000-08:00

One Fell Stroke

The platelets clotted within those musty walls
Jaggedly standing with the peeling led paint
Thirty year old fixtures of the artery

Clabbered blood still trying to eek its way through
But the stretching walls grow ever more brittle
Corrosion binding to its coalesced innards

One more stint to keep the butter coming home
One more before the old three cut the life line
And send our stymied souls down the river Styx

1-20-2008
The first poem of a collection recently started and tentatively titled Tercet By Moonlight

The Almond Window

2007-12-14T18:49:00.000-08:00

Today while rummaging through the web, looking for fodder to sketch, I stumbled upon this eye. It caught my gaze and seemed to look right into me and as I looked back I saw something more than just an eye. I saw my self. It made me think of how our friend Jim once said poets write about the strangest and simplest things.

The Almond Window

I settled into that gazing pool
Where pain and pleasure cumulated
Like ions on a retinal rod

Stealing x-rays of my inner shade
A keepsake devil caught to display
Within that pretty almond window

For just a breath my pulse quickened
While some cathexis penetrated
And wooed me into woolgathering

A wink would have killed the glassy mood
But alas your shutter is affixed
To capture all these charmed immersions

12-14-07

The Tale of the Monkey and the Midget

2007-12-12T05:10:00.000-08:00

The Tale Of The Monkey And The Midget

Inspired by the poetry of Li Po www.poemhunter.com/i/ebooks/pdf/li_po_2004_9.pdf

Lole couldn’t quite remember when the monkey first appeared. He knew Joey showed up shortly after though. His confidant, Joey was someone he could tell anything and repeatedly did. In fact, they spent countless evenings sitting on the couch together, Lole talking as Joey listened. He was a great listener.

On these occasions the monkey fed them beers. He was perfectly trained. An empty never hit the table before a cold one replaced it and as he took the empty there was always the cheerful eek-eek or drink-drink. .

Lole could never really tell what the monkey was saying, but tended to lean towards drink-drink. This was reinforced by Joey’s approving nod. The questionable gesture was pleasant, but Joey never spoke and simply nodded yes to everything. A tendency Lole seemed to overlook.

On occasion the three would dance, though Joey never really left the couch. His legs were at the most thirteen inches long and would simply swing like metronomes from the sofa. This was a smart move on the midget’s part for the monkey always tended to break something, which, Lole was invariably blamed for.

The monkey, who was affectionately named Jo Jo after the Beatles song, had placed many a strain on Lole's relationships with family and friends. Even the loss of his wife could be blamed away by the antics of the monkey. Still, Lole always chose Jo Jo when it came down to making the tough decision.

Maybe it was their long and strange history or the fact that Jo Jo still wore that cute little clown suit. Whatever the reason, Jo Jo prevailed while the others moved into Lole's clouded past. The monkey, in his opinion, was worth any amount of aggravation because, unlike the others, Jo Jo always suffered with him through the hardest times. This, Lole thought, was the very essence of true friendship.

At times, Lole would find himself out at the bar with other friends. His mind though was always with the monkey and the midget. They never teased him like his other friends. The chiding he took from them was relentless. Sure, Lole gave it back as much as he got it, but nothing pained him so much as the kidney jokes.

After an onslaught of kidney infections, tests, antibiotics and rigamarole from doctors, Lole learned he only had one kidney. This immediately spawned a series of jokes about waking up in a bathtub full of ice and being the victim of kidney thieves. But, there was no scar, so it was later assumed that aliens had extracted the organ through a certain orifice. The missing kidney and potential probing caused Lole to be the butt of endless razzing.

It was "never you worry" though Lole always said, taking life with a grain of salt, tequila and beer chaser. "Never you worry." This staunch philosophy was the trio's credo. Three simple words to live by.

Lole had first found himself in this delusional hakuna ma tata on the municipal golf course. His buddies had challenged him to a game of beer golf. The rules were simple. Subtract two from the par of the hole, meaning, par 5: three beers, par 4: two beers and par 3: one beer.

By the fifth green Lole had pounded his way to two under par and had resorted to using tees on the fairway. Most of his balls had been lost in the woods due to the distracting chatter of the monkey. At this point Jo Jo had been elusive, untamed, a wild creature tempting fate.

Lole had spent many an afternoon trying to catch the Panamanian primate, but to no avail. On that day though he had just tried to ignore him, but the imp patronized Lole on every stroke. To make matters worse someone drove off with his golf cart.

As he heard the cart pull away, Lole dashed towards it making an inebriated dive. Unfortunately the lunge was successful and to everyone’s amazement he held on to the bumper as he was dragged around the course. Finally the culprit cut sharply sending him rolling into the sand trap on the seventh hole.

Grass stained and covered in sand, Lole turned over. His body aching as the sun burned in his eyes and at that moment he wished he could just lay there and die. This is when Jo Jo appeared over him, bouncing with that playful eek eek and in his hand was the beer Lole had dropped.

This is how Jo Jo came to stay with Lole. Through all of the menacing hard ships of everyday living this friend had the ability to do more than just save his beer. This friend, this monkey, had the ability to make him forget his woes, in fact, he was distraction made manifest. Drink-drink.

That night Lole drank till the beer went down like water and all the while the monkey danced. He danced till the fridge was empty, till the sun sliced through the blinds, till all the bubbling molecules in their heads fell dark and unconscious.

At 1:42 pm Lole awoke to find he had soiled himself. To make matters worse he discovered his universal remote had been smashed into several pieces. He had been sleeping with his cheek pressed against the keypad; ironically the stop button had left the most noticeable of impressions on his face. After some tinkering with the pieces he gave up all hope of keeping the batteries in properly and resorted to duct tape, something Lole found to be a useful fix all.

Joey had introduced him to this remedy one evening after the monkey had broken Lole’s card table. The jocular primate had become quite rambunctious and, after urinating off the balcony, made a mad dash for the player’s pile of poker chips. Needless to say, Lole’s attempt to prevent this course of action placed him face down on the table.

With a crash, poker chips were hurled to the farthest reaches of the apartment. This was accompanied by a barrage of insults to Lole and a couple of smacks as he rose amidst the scattered Hoyle’s and foaming beer bottles. He tried pointing to Jo Jo, who had returned to the balcony, but the players just kept on razzing him, picking up what was left of their game.

This is when Joey appeared, duct tape in hand, a little guy with big ideas. He had been sitting quietly on the couch all evening and then, to Lole’s relief, Joey waved his hand to the bunch then went about repairing the leg of the table with him. After a few minutes the table was up, the game restored and Lole found himself sitting on the couch with his new best friend and a couple of ice cold ones.

Now, he sat at his table, tape still holding, realizing he was alone. The monkey, likely out terrorizing the neighborhood and Joey, only god knows. One thing was certain though, they would return. His two friends always did.

On the third day of his friends disappearance Lole had a recollection. A fuzzy thought came to mind like a radio station just out of range. Bits and pieces came followed by intermittent bouts of static. Halloween night? Jo Jo in a torn up clown suit. Was there a fight?

The images perplexed him on the way to work. Sweat broke out of every pore as he barreled along. A cold beer would be nice, but then his stomach wrenched. Where was Joey he wondered, wiping the perspiration from his face? Then it hit him, like the night of the incident, that terrible pain in his bowel churning and sheering. There was no time to react, to pull over.

The explosion instantly filled his BVD’s, saturating the gray cloth upholstery through to the foam cushioning of the seat. Lole now sat in a pool of shit. It was unimaginable how much fluid the body could release. To further aggravate Lole’s situation, the stench was overpowering to the point of nausea. Turning back towards home was his only option.

It was on this torturous venture back that Lole recalled that dismal falling out. Weeks of benders had led to months of solid drunkenness, which, came to a head that loathsome Halloween.

Incoherent, the threesome had consumed far more than any man could hold. Parts of Lole’s body had begun to shut down due to the damage. And so, unable to control his bowels, the unfortunate had crapped his pants at the bar. This caused the monkey to fall into a riotous fit of laughter.

All the laborious way to the restroom, Jo Jo taunted him. Joey, like a crutch beneath Lole’s armpit, helped him stagger into the stall. The men’s room rang with the shrill laugh of the monkey as Lole attempted to clean himself. Tears welled in his eyes as he shouted at the monkey to stop, to shut up, to get the hell away from him and then it happened.

Jo Jo, with his teeth flared like ivory daggers, snatched the soiled drawers. His first fling sent a large spatter across the mirror as Lole tried to pull his pants back up. The attempt was in vein though for it only caused him to fall on his face, his pants twisted about his knees. The second fling was aimed at Joey, who evasively ducked behind the stall as it spattered.

Lole screamed, “I hate you. I hate you. Just go away. I freaking hate you.” As he lay sobbing on the floor.

The monkey, chest heaving, made a final fling, sending the loaded skivvies into the fan above the stall. Choking, the small rotor heaved for a moment and then broke loose. Feces spiraled about the restroom as Jo Jo ran out. This was the last he saw them. The monkey, his clown hat tipped to one side, running out of the men’s room. Joey, cautiously opening the door, looking around and then slipping out.

One week later, he soberly sat at home. Outside a storm raged. Wind lashing at the sliding door, hurling bursts of rain against the glass. In the dark room Lole meditated on the sofa, one week dry he thought, hands trembling as thunder shook the apartment. One week he thought again as lightning flashed, illuminating the eerie silhouette of the monkey.

In the corner, Jo Jo stood hidden and quiet. As the lightning flared again, Lole could just make out the terrible look on the creatures face. Anger built wildly in the monkey’s eyes. “Drink-drink”. It said from the dark.

“No.” Lole cried out, but the monkey persisted.

“Drink-drink. Drink-drink.” It railed, taking a step towards him.

“No.” He screamed, closing his eyes to it and then came a startling dull shot.

When Lole opened his eyes he found Joey standing with a throw pillow and a smoking revolver. On the floor the monkey lay dead. “Problem solved.” His friend said smiling. Then to Lole’s surprise, several midgets entered the room. Like little mafia style Oompa Loompa’s they marched in, never speaking a word as they rolled the tiny clown corpse up in a rug. Never a sound as they cleaned the evidence from the room.

Even as the crew left not a tiny sound was uttered. With a nod and a wave Joey smiled once more, closing the door behind them. A sense of freedom filled Lole as the door clicked shut. Freedom, he felt, as he walked out onto the back porch, breathing in deeply. The rain rolling off into the distance, the earth cleansed, freedom.

Doug's First Cage Match

2007-11-26T04:48:00.000-08:00

Digging

2007-11-21T12:36:00.001-08:00

Digging

Franklin N.C. was like any old pit
Natural beauty pocked with poverty
Lacklustering in gross inequity

We traipsed about in the staining red clay
Hoping to unearth some brilliant jewel,
Black dust or even a small flake of gold

Avoiding those loose roadside slews in town
Who’s salted pails sat pre-marked and rationed
With the lapidarists shards and discards

Digging in the crystal cold mountain air
We found something grander than pink sapphires
Something worth more than any carrot weight

That grit in our teeth and below the nails
While reminiscing with Norm the mine hand
We struck that rich vein to humanity

Cruel and Usual Punishment

2007-11-14T11:45:00.000-08:00

Here's some new poetry that was inspired at the office today. Any critical input on the piece is welcome.

Cruel and Usual Punishment

There was happiness in her voice
So innocently revolting
As the chipper chanting hammered
With varied tamping inflection

The twisting phone cord would have worked
To strangle out that naïve pitch
Which nauseatingly squeak squawked
Into the nerve like fiber line

What hell spawn on receivers end
Encouraged such numbskullery?
Where was great Zeus’s lightning strike
To right the chattering cosmos?

One’s soul should never suffer this
Some maladroited cubicle
Or tactless tack wall prison cell
That leached those water board-ish rants

11-14-2007

Welcome

2007-10-26T15:28:00.000-07:00

Hello. I would like to welcome you to Monkey Wrench. I hope everyone enjoys the blog and look forward to having many an entertaining and enlightening conversation with you. I would appreciate any type of feedback you have about the Broken Cog Media site as well as any suggestions for the site or things you would like to see on it. Also, if anyone knows of someone that would benefit from the site, please share it with them.

The blog is open to anyone that would like to discuss Art, Writing, Photography or various types of media in general. I am hoping it helps stir some creative juices and give people of like minds a place to gather, gab and have a good time.

Thank you and Happy Blogging.

Sincerely,

Cogswell