endless misery
the humid air
clings to the
anticipation
of afternoon
thunderstorms
endless misery
looks to be the
only highlight
today
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
squandered
you ever wonder
why your loneliness
seems infinite
why your dreams
are never allowed
to come true
why luck seems
like some fable
told to children
to keep them
busy
why your genius
has been squandered
for pennies
while other dumb
fucks are rolling
in cash
--------------------------------------------------------------
happy poems
an editor once asked
me why i never write
any happy poems
i told her i learned
long ago to only
write what you
know
any good reader
can see a fake
fucker from
miles away
------------------------------------------------------------
a morning in the swamp
these endless summer
days where the night is
as sticky as a morning
in the swamp
air conditioning is
something only the
rich have
open a window for a
breeze and it's nothing
but the stench of death
you learned long ago
there is no damn point
in complaining
god moved on from
these parts years ago
--------------------------------------------------------
a much simpler time
saw the obituary
of the last guy i
bought drugs off
of
that was so many
years ago now
a much simpler
time than this
world
not that nostalgia
wins the day
the weed is so
much better these
days
like going from
black and white
television
to suddenly owning
a tv the size of the
wall and as clear as
pollution free water
Though I’m sure I’m not the first person to riff off of Love in the Time of Cholera during this pandemic, here goes. And I’m not going to Consult The Oracle about it, I’m too stoked on this name.
One Hundred Years of Solitude is one of the greatest works of fiction that I’ve ever read. When I asked a Colombian friend if he ever read Marquez in English, he laughed hardily in my face. When he was done, he asked, Why would I do a thing like that?
My feathers were a bit ruffled; I wanted to know how true to form the translations were, I think that’s pretty normal and important. Later I brought it up with a Peruvian comrade who sometimes does translations for print, and he simply replied reading Marquez in English would be criminal.
Though when COVID went pandemic, he wrote “I’ve been completely broke during this whole time, but now that I’ve some money, I’m gonna find a way to get as many Camus’ and Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ books as I can since I feel 2020 has for sure been stolen from their intellectual property. Hopefully I can keep from spending my money on beer, burgers and ice-cream.”
So here I am, trying to bask in Marquez’ glory a bit. Camus is also apt, and I wish I’d thought of that one. I’ve long given up on trying to write fiction, because I know I couldn’t make up a good handful of the people I’ve met over the years, nor the situations we seem to regularly find ourselves in if I wanted to. And rest assured, sometimes I wish I had!
When US Shelter in Place orders started to roll out in the spring of 2020, I panicked. I had been in Tucson, Arizona for about four months, by then the only reason I was still there was the 2020 ‘Zine Fest, and it was cancelled. I’d had hopes of going to the Chicago ‘Zine Fest a week afterwards, and it was also postponed.
I freaked out. What if Shelter in Place becomes Martial Law?! Was Chicago ‘Zine Fest just an excuse, and should I cut things short in Tucson and just get going anyways?
One of my housemates flipped out on me when I suggested to him there was more than one way to clean cast iron without ruining the seasoning. You’d think at 39 I would have known better, but I had this illusion that perhaps we were peers, especially considering I was paying more for rent and utilities for considerably less room and time in the House than him. I suppose there’s no excuse for me dropping my guard like that. I even thought the proof was in the egg free pan, when I was done eating, with no additional cleaning because the seasoning was perfectly in tact, but no.
There was no way I was going to risk getting stuck with this person for upwards of 18 or more months. I called my old boss from Chicago’s Starving Artist Movers and hammered out the details of working for him a bit again, and split using most of my last paycheck.
For about 13 months of a recent 20 or so month Hobo’s Holiday, I had been working for and usually with David La Tortuga, Starving Artist’s founder. But I’d been gone for nearly a year; Food Not Bombing, teaching weaving workshops, printing, reading, writing, forest defending, walking a great deal, hitchhiking a bit, though mostly publicly transporting myself around my old stomping grounds on the west coast from Tucson to Olympia via San Diego, and back.
I lost my paid gig at a print shop in Tucson, so really nothing was holding me back as Food Not Bombs and its COVID spawn, Food Share were flooded with mostly new volunteers.
I’ve actually been wanting to write about Starving Artist Movers for a while, since my time with them had greatly improved my life. But whenever I brainstormed about it, I worried that some of the things I’d write about what made the job so enjoyable, might make La Tortuga sound like someone you wouldn’t want to hire to move your stuff, whatever on earth that may be, such as a giant box full of 20 pound weights (which I thought were cast iron pans until they started pouring out of the bottom of the box…).
Anyways, back to the Corona Virus Pandemic of 2020. My trip did seem magical at first, especially as I saw a super cute, orange haired artist painting Davidcito’s new box truck as I walked up to his humble, Evanston abode with all of my gear. Though it was mostly a dud after that, one of the few moving jobs I worked that visit turned out to be one of the best ever.
It’s been my experience that people seem to have either very little stuff, or a great deal of things. All the moving gigs I’ve ever worked have been one extreme or the other. Also, although the harder jobs tend to be just mostly tedious, there always seems to be at least one or maybe two things that are very difficult. Sometimes they are actually impossible to move into the new place.
I’d been warned this job was going to include a several hundred pound piece of machinery, but I needed the work. It’s the main reason I’d come back to Chicago!
It turned out the first customer of the day was also a working artist, whose apartment was also her workshop.
In my real, year and a month stint with Starving Artist, I had no serious complaints about any of our customers, and thankfully vice versa. I think a lot of that had to do with the accuracy of the company’s name. If people wanted College Hunks Moving Junk, or White Glove Movers, they could actually call them, but instead, they called us. Perhaps not starving, we were artists, and our clients were always really cool to me.
But I almost never helped move anyone that I thought would hangout with me. In fact, I frequently felt like a rented friend, and frankly a bit guilty accepting good money, especially when people were really nice and did things like give us food.
I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when only for the second time our client was young, covered with tattoos, and seemed like someone I would hangout with. To boot, she thought she recognized me?! I’m horrible with names, but good with remembering faces and tattoos. I’m fairly certain I would have remembered meeting her, even if it was only once, and years ago. Also, she was a leather worker, my original craft.
After getting my Leather Working Merit Badge when I was 12 or so, I inherited my granduncle Gusty’s leather working materials. In fact, to this day, the template I use for pouches came out of those supplies.
Also that day, a new coworker, Chris, I just met turned out to be really cool. I was looking forward to meeting them, since their in was Glad Matt of The Glad Rags. A nice person, good worker and talented musician, I figured they would be birds of a feather and all that. I was not disappointed!
But this was a hard job. A great deal of stuff, coming down from a third floor walk up. Also, a neighbor was taken away on a ventilator by an ambulance, a grim reminder of the pandemic.
It also turned out there were actually two multi-hundred pound machines to move, down stairs, on to the truck, then back off again, up thankfully straight to… only a second floor loft? I mean here, I had been misinformed that we were also going to a third floor walk up, so this was a relief. In addition, the customer had a friend show up to help, and she turned not only also be just as nice and pretty, but a fiber artist! She actually made the mask she was wearing, she was impressive.
After unloading the first truckload, we took a lunch break. This always makes the job more enjoyable for me, and this was oddly Davidcito’s idea, a rare occurrence. The client actually bought Chris and me falafel and waffle fries, and we had a nice talk while La Tortuga and Rooster dealt with an unrelated SNAFU, on their lunch break. This was actually probably why he suggested taking a break, but I wasn’t going to argue!
I gave our clients, it turned out the first customer’s friend was going to be our second client later that day, copies of two of my recent ‘zines, also giving them to Chris
We giddily joked about how we had to abandon social distancing, and one of our customers called lunch a falafel make out party.
We reconvened with Rooster and La Tortuga at the first apartment, and like a woman out of my dreams, our first client gave us all coffee! Also, our second customer’s mom dropped off a home cooked meal, enough for all six of us working for later, and I swooned. Whenever our clients were local, and their family turned out in anyway, I always thought it was really sweet. Sometimes it was just in references to how a family member or two helped with the smaller things before we showed up, but other times they really did just as much as work as us! Once a father helped Davidcito move a bed I couldn’t get up a staircase for the life of me, when we were moving his daughter, I thought that was about as cool as it gets.
But frankly, I think the occasional moral support was just as slick. And of course a friend or two turning out occasionally was also really nice. Sometimes they were what made us able to go on to a second scheduled gig with the amount of work they did! Or at least wrap things up at a reasonable time, which can sometimes be no small feat.
But back to this gig. The second load only filled the box truck half way, so we went to the next customer’s since they were moving in together. Even though she was also a working artist, using her apartment as a workshop, her stuff barely filled the other half of the truck. Also it was a first floor unit, though it started to rain fairly heavily to keep things interesting.
I couldn’t fit anywhere in the box truck, so rode in the first customer’s truck with our other client and Chris. Somehow internet dating came up, and our first customer asked if I had a partner, and I could have keeled over and died! I’m aware that I’m projecting here, but it’s the kind of thing I’d only ask if I was interested in someone.
After we finished unloading the trucks, we ate dinner together, and the second client gave me shoes and sandals, because she had noticed my shoes were falling apart, and all the thrift and boot stores were closed. For the millionth or so time that day I wondered if these women could get any greater?!
The first customer gave us stickers and pins promoting her business, and paid us, including a fat tip. I try not to get hung up on the whole tip thing, since paying movers is so expensive anyways, and I’m not sure how widespread knowledge about tipping movers is. But it’s pretty great when clients do it!
She also offered to give me yarn when she dug her’s out and I figured out what I was doing. Of course, if I was a cartoon, hearts would have been floating all over. I offered both of our customers something out of the small part of my weaving inventory I carry with me without price tags just for such occasions.
Sadly, my housing situation ended before I could figure out something else. After a couple nights sleeping in the box truck, I headed back to Tucson the easy way. But as Chris said once during that job, it felt like the first real day they had lived since the lock down started. I couldn’t have agreed more!
Stephen Jarrell Williams writes at night, enthused, and waiting for the Coming Good Dawn. He has been published in I am not a silent poet, Mad Swirl, and others.
Ricardo feels short-changed whenever he’s in business with his boss, Martinez, who does ‘’business’’ at the LaGuardia Airport, with all the five major staffers, a part of his drug-cartel network. Having worked for his boss for over a decade, Ricardo sees the need to pay him back in his coin. Despite his faithfulness through the years, Martinez is fond of derogating his efforts and using the proceeds—that are due Ricardo—to his chains of girlfriends. Ricardo’s complaints hold no waters as Martinez prioritizes his lovers over intricate business deals he has with Ricardo.
However, Ricardo seeks on how his boss would, someday, have a taste of his poison—a reward for the wrongs he did to him. He figures out a plan. He discusses with his Doctor to create a ‘’image’’ of himself and contracts a willing-to-die for -the -money street thug, Roberto, to do his bidding—the would-be Ricardo’s impostor—delivering fake dollars, instead of the actual consignment as instructed by his boss. Roberto, or better known as ‘’Ricardo’’, is aware of the whole plot.
‘’Ricardo’’ is well-paid and is fully prepared for the task ahead. Ricardo, knowing the ropes of the cartel, explores the loophole and finds an escape route never to be seen again. Ricardo leaves the cartel with the hugest fortune, untraced!
The success of the plan is to Ricardo’s advantage but leaves ‘’Ricardo’’ to his fate…
(EXT) LaGuardia Airport, LaGuardia
(Ext)The LaGuardia Office
‘’Ricardo’’ is received by a team of five persons—the La Guardia Boys—-Mario, Rodriguez, Carlos, Santana and Franco. Martinez, dressed in an all-white MAFIA suit, stands afar off, with his dark shades on, staring at the bag Roberto is holding. Roberto is being escorted to the point where Martinez is standing.
Mario
(Excited)
It’s been a long time coming!
Good for the LaGuardia Boys!
(They are taking turns hugging the impostor Ricardo. He’s indifferent. But Martinez appears uncomfortable)
Carlos
More money, more pleasure…
Viva, LaGuardia Boys!
I’m goin’ to enjoy myself to the fullest!
Franco
(Shakes his head in disappointment)
Carlos, I thought you were reasonable.
All you know about is pleasure, nothing else!
Carlos
(A little upset)
This is the LaGuardia Office where businesses like what we, the LaGuardia boys do, are done nicely.
You know me too well, Franco.
Franco
You make me wanna laugh a little more
But the rule states: don’t mix business with pleasure
That’s what the LaGuardia Boys is all about!
Carlos
why interrupt me???
Franco
No comment.
But Learn to be wise, my man
Carlos
I see…
Franco
(sigh of relief)
Yea, no comment
(They are at about the same position where Martinez is standing. His frown-looking face staring at ‘’Ricardo’s’’ bag means he all out for the business.)
Martinez
(Stretches his hand)
Let me have it
(‘’Ricardo’’ gives away the bag in a care-free manner. Santana, Ricardo’s closest friend, knows something isn’t right with him. Carlos is suspecting, but not serious about it. The rest are indifferent. Martinez is grinning sadistically as he opens the bag for all to see. What is being seen is shocking all and sundry but ‘’Ricardo’’ is unperturbed.)
Martinez
(Paces back and forth)
Ricardo, what the hell is this?
‘’Ricardo’’
Boss, you know the deal as always
Martinez
What has come over you?
I suspected as much…
‘’Ricardo’’
You know, it’s all about Gold, Oil and Drugs!
Santana
You’ve gone nuts!
What’s come over you!
‘’Ricardo’’
You see, everything is so wrong with this shit of a cartel that what’s left isn’t just right!
Carlos
You must be outta your mind!
Are you kidding me???!!!
‘’Ricardo’’
My mind seems to be in oblivion.
But where can I find yours?
Carlos
Boss, he’s gone berserk!
Mario
You must be a fool, Ricardo
‘’Ricardo’’
I concur.
But what are you?
Mario
Thank your stars I’m pretty good today.
Else….
‘’Ricardo’’
You’d rain thunder and brimstone on me, I guess
Mario
Your guess is as good as mine.
Boss, Ricardo is crazy!!!
Martinez
(Angry)
I think Ricardo has some mental issues!
You’re right, Mario.
He has a serious issue.
(He looks at the stacked money in the bag and sees they are all fake! All are angered. Martinez lights up his Cuban Cigar, puffs heavily)
Franco
Ricardo, as I advance towards you right now, I feel like slapping the hell outta your face!
‘’Ricardo’’
You’re permitted, if our boss wills
Franco
Boss, Ricardo has gone insane!
Martinez
Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?
Franco
With all due respect, our empire is about being dragged to the mud
Martinez
Did you just hear yourself talk?
Franco
You heard me loud and clear!
Martinez
(Laughs sadistically)
Some fella grown some bananas
Franco
Boss, I’m tired of your bossy attitude
Carlos
Hey, what’s wrong with you, man?
Franco
So what?
Mario
Learn to act as an adult, not just one pick-from-the-gutter girl!
Franco
Who is this small fry ranting words with me?
Mario
(Disappointed)
Oh! I’m ranting, right?
Franco
Yes, you’re!
What are you gonna do?
Mario
You have no manners!
And you’re making these shitty statements?
Rodriguez
Franco, we’re faced with the mess Ricardo has brought on the LaGuardia boys
(Sighs)
Franco
What would have been our greatest fortune has been turned to counterfeits.
Rodriguez
Now, is your very approach the best way?
Franco
Rodriguez, use your brains, not your balls.
Learn to think.
Remember, if we lose this, we’re gone!
Martinez
I’m furious.
(Parts Franco on his back)
I really want to make this man, Franco, y’all call him, right?
(ALL ANSWEING): YEA
Martinez
I want to teach him a lesson.
Guys, Show Franco the consequences of going against Rule 3 of the LaGuardia boys Commandment
(ALL ANSWERING): Yes sir!
Santana, Rodriguez and Carlos are seen beating up Franco to a pulp. Martinez and ‘’Ricardo’’ watch the show for the next five minutes. The bag, initially held by Martinez, is resting on the floor.
Martinez
(Raises his right hand)
Stop
(Looks at Franco’s stained-in-blood face)
That’s what happens when you think youi’re fly
Franco
(Spits at Martinez)
You and your cartel are finished!
The LaGuardia boys is history!!
Martinez
Proving hard nut to crack, right?
Guys, whisk him away.
Let this be a lesson for each and every one of you.
TAKE THIS WASTE AWAY!!!
(His lifeless body is taken out of sight. It is between Martinez and ‘’Ricardo’’)
Martinez
Ricardo, do you know that your ineptitude has caused the life of Franco?
‘’Ricardo’’
I wouldn’t know.
It’s just that what you messaged me ended up on being what you wanted
Martinez
Why have you suddenly chosen to behave this way!
‘’Ricardo’’
Things change over time, you know.
Martinez
What has come over you today?
‘’Ricardo’’
Still tryin’ to figure out
Martinez
I WILL STRANGLE YOUR NECK TO DEATH…
Now, why ruin what the build-up of LaGuardia boys’ cartel?
‘’Ricardo’’
(Struggles to speak)
Please, let go off me….
Martinez
(Sober)
I’m all ears.
‘’Ricardo’’
(Pants)
Mistakes are inevitable.
Martinez
(Frustrated)
You must be outta mind!
’’Ricardo’’
But that doesn’t make you any better!
(‘’Ricardo’’ sees his cheeks being attacked by multiple slaps coming from Martinez. Santana, Rodriguez, Mario and Carlos, having deposited Franco’s corpse, joined the chorus to beat up ‘’Ricardo’’. After rounds of beating, Martinez decides to put an end to it. )
Martinez
(Screams, as he looks around helplessly)
What have just been done???!!!
We’ve lost everything!!!
The LaGuardia boys all gone!!!
(Paces back and forth. Then, maintains his stance)
Martinez
(Furious)
Guys, before we embark on anything else,
Take this helpless body out of sight!!!
(Martinez looks on as Franco’s helpless body is being taken away. He assumes his position after that)
After this is done, we’ll go back to NORMAL duties in this office.
We’ll stay away from cities we’re fond of visiting.
You know,San Marino, Jose and a host of other places!
We just have to be on the LOW for now.
No more touring for the LaGuardia boys!
Guys, Go back to work!
All go about their regular duties at the LaGuardia office for the rest of the day, howbeit saddened.
Later…
Martinez later discovered that he was dealing with an impostor and couldn’t trace the whereabouts of Ricardo. ‘’Ricardo’’ was freed, though stripped off everything he came to the airport with. The LaGuardia boys have all fled, since their boss was arrested. Martinez is in jail for murder and illegal drug businesses.
Let's Cure our Wounds
Ahmad Al-Khatat
Tears of pain don't hurt us anymore.
We collected heavy emotions and grief.
We learned how to talk about our feelings,
but not how to cure our wounds.
We constantly question the things we do.
And living has become a harder question than death.
True happiness wears mournful clothing.
True misery wears clouds and rain.
We sit and wait until we learn that destiny
had given us a melancholic mindset.
Our tongues are the harrowing tales of refugees,
hope lays down between the sadness of the grave
and in the letters of forgotten soldiers who never return.
Empty Like the Rain
Nothing but nicotine smoke
is running through my lungs,
my thoughts are turning into
clouds, with death in between.
My heart has become full
of sorrow and despair
I proceeded to inhale my last
breath, to explore six feet under.
I was raised with painful supports
You’re not good enough to work with us
You’re not smart enough to earn a degree
You’re not responsible enough to marry her
No one knows how I really feel
I feel the tears on my cheeks
I feel the blood above my cuts
As yet, I feel empty like the rain.
Believing in Yourself
Wake up and let the sunshine
over your misery darkness.
Wake up and let the rain heal
and wash away your deepest wounds.
Look at your healthy soul.
Listen to your heartbeat.
And give yourself a chance to
see what life has to offer.
Smile and don't let haters
tell you cannot dream.
No matter what anyone says,
remember to believe in yourself.
Do you know that your eyes shine as
the sun shines? every time you achieve
something, your will ambitions will increase
and uplift you.
My Bio
Ahmad Al-Khatat was born in Baghdad, Iraq. His work has appeared in print and online journals globally and has poems translated into several languages. He has been nominated for Best of the Net 2018. He is the author of The Bleeding Heart Poet, Love On The War’s Frontline, Gas Chamber, Wounds from Iraq, Roofs of Dreams, The Grey Revolution, and Noemi & Lips of Sweetness. He lives in Montreal, Canada.
Flower Girl (V2) If you get a chance, please listen to Mp3 audio, poem song, Flower Girl (V2)-special.
(Tears in Your Eyes)
By Michael Lee Johnson
Poems are hard to create
they live, then die, walk alone in tears,
resurrect in family mausoleums.
They walk with you alone in ghostly patterns,
memories they deliver feeling unexpectedly
through the open windows of strangers.
Silk roses lie in a potted bowl
memories seven days before Mother’s Day.
Soak those tears, patience is the poetry of love.
Plant your memories, your seeds, your passion,
once a year, maybe twice.
Jesus knows we all need more
then a vase filled with silk flowers,
poems on paper from a poet sacred,
the mystery, the love of a caretaker−
multicolored silk flowers in a basket
handed out by the flower girl.
July 4th, 2020Photo of events at Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington, Va., May 17, 2013. Coast Guard Commandant Adm. Bob Papp was in attendance as President Barack Obama laid a wreath on the Tomb of the Unknowns in honor of all those who have fallen during military combat. U.S. Coast Guard photo by Petty Officer 2nd Class Patrick Kelley.
July 4th, 2020, Itasca, Illinois (V4)
(AtHamilton Lakes)
By Michael Lee Johnson
Stone carved dreams for men
past and gone, freedom fighters
blow past wind and storms.
Patriotism scared, etched in the face of cave walls.
There are no cemeteries here for the old,
vacancies for the new.
Americans incubate chunks
of patriotism over the few centuries,
a calling into the wild, a yellow fork stabs me.
Today happiness is a holiday.
Rest in peace warriors, freedom fighters,
those who simply made a mistake.
I gaze out my window to Hamilton Lakes
half-drunk with sparkling wine,
seeing lightning strikes ends,
sparklers, buckets full of fire.
Light up the dark sky, firecrackers.
Filmmakers, old rock players, fume-filled skies,
butts of dragonflies.
Patriotism shakes, rocks, jerks
across my eye’s freedom locked
in chains, stone-carved dreams.
*This year, 2020, due to COVID-19 I watch fireworks off my condo balcony alone,
share darkness alone, share bangers in the open sky.
Fall Thunder (V2)
By Michael Lee Johnson
There is power in the thunder tonight, kettledrums.
There is thunder in this power,
the powder blends white lightening
flour sifters in masks toss it around.
Rain plunges October night; dancers
crisscross night sky in white gowns.
Tumble, turning, swirl the night away, around,
leaves tape-record over, over, then, pound,
pound repeat falling to the ground.
Halloween falls to the children’s
knees and imaginations.
Kettledrums.
Michael Lee Johnson lived 10 years in Canada during the Vietnam era and is a dual citizen of the United States and Canada. Today he is a poet, freelance writer, amateur photographer, and small business owner in Itasca, DuPage County, Illinois. Mr. Johnson published in more than 1072 new publications, his poems have appeared in 39 countries, he edits, publishes 10 poetry sites. Michael Lee Johnson, has been nominated for 2 Pushcart Prize awards poetry 2015/1 Best of the Net 2016/2 Best of the Net 2017, 2 Best of the Net 2018. 210 poetry videos are now on YouTube https://www.youtube.com/user/poetrymanusa/videos. Editor-in-chief poetry anthology, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze: http://www.amazon.com/dp/1530456762; editor-in-chief poetry anthology, Dandelion in a Vase of Roses available here https://www.amazon.com/dp/1545352089. Editor-in-chief Warriors with Wings: The Best in Contemporary Poetry, http://www.amazon.com/dp/1722130717.
