Posts Tagged ‘ poverty ’

jus’ me & Six Pack Jack


Vogel-Unter, Das große Kartenspiel, Kupferstic...

Vogel-Unter, Das große Kartenspiel, Kupferstich; Bird-Jack, The great pack of cards, etching, L. 269 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

jus’ me, jus’ me ‘n’ Six Pack Jack
sittin’ on the couch, eatin’ on a snack

ain’t got no cable and ain’t got no net
but we got a picture winda so we don’t fret

Jack tells me a story I’ve heard 10000 times
and I spit back mouthfuls of foolish rhymes

the day go by and the beer run dry
must be 4:20, it be time to get high

one paper left in a folded pack
enough for the schwag that’s left in the sack

Six Pack has got his twisting down
we forget where the hell we left that frown

jus me, jus’ me ‘n’ Six Pack Jack
and we don’t give a frick or frack

03.26.20..13

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Pops’ Scar: A Short Huckabuck Tale


Pops’ uncle used to own the building outside of Huckabuck that
he’s lived in since he got out of prison the first time. He’s
got no running water in the place but has a toilet that he
flushes with a bucket of water and Pine Sol once a day.

Pops gets his water from his mother’s house next door. (She’s
been in the nursing home for about 6 years and his brother,
Mike owns the house now. Mike doesn’t live in it though, he
likes to stay in his little, red, Mexican-Schwag-slinging shed
in the backyard.)

I’ve hung with Pops and partied with him for a long time and I
can tell you, when Pops drinks (which is whenever he can scrape
together 10 bucks for a bottle of Kessler’s), he likes to tell
stories. And he doesn’t mind repeating them either, which, if
you had known Pops as long as I have, would add up to a rather
impressive amount.

A story I’ve heard often is one of his childhood stories. As I
had mentioned, Pops’ uncle ran a gunshop next door to the 2
bedroom clapboard house Pops grew up in with his four brothers
and sisters. He grew up around guns and as a 10 year old, he
took some bullets from his uncle’s locked gunshop and gathered
his brothers, Mike and Rog, along with a couple of the
Neighborhood Nuts in his back yard.

I can’t remember if his parents were away or simply weren’t
paying attention but the little hooligans were in that back
yard standing the bullets up on the hard ground and hitting
them with hammers. Pops did most of the hammering (he would
often remind me he was a little hellion) and had the misfortune
of catching the first successful bullet through his right cheek.

Now that I mention it, his parents must’ve been home or nearby
since they had heard the gunshot and ran to the backyard then
rushed him to the emergency room. Pops still thinks about the
scar on his cheek, I guess that’s why he likes telling the
story.

 

News Flash Snadragon Central December 1, 20.12


Another fantastic day in Ohio.  Got the ad cards from the printer’ for my book, “Space Christals,” and Terry Teri Luoise Kelly’s book of poetry, “Dead With Your Legs Spread on an Unmade Bed” (yeah, she writes catchier titles than I do).  Barnes & Nobles was across the parking lot and took a few of my book cards but Teri’s book wasn’t in their system so they said they couldn’t take hers. (Her boo…

k is out on Lulu.com, guess B&N doesn’t deal with them) Stopped at Video Visions in Mansfield, porn and head shop, thought some of the heads in town might be into something other than porn. Stopped at Main Street books and my two lonely copies are still sitting on the bottom shelf eight months later.  Oh well.  They took both of our cards, guy there was very nice. Suzy is right next door in the smoke shop and is my mom’s best friend.  She was sitting their in her empty cigar shop, not even a lottery customer in the store.  We chatted for a few minutes and she told me to try the coffee shop across the street, that it was pretty hip.  Left a reader’s copy there and some more of our cards. That was without leaving town so I decided to blow off driving to Columbus to look up some places to hit in the big city.  Headed to Downertown to see my adopt-a-pops outside Huckabuck.  Yeah, my pop’s almost five years older than me and is the most honest criminal you’ll ever meet, in his words. Pedro was already incoherent when I got there, and my pops and a couple of the “neighborhood nuts” were all trying to talk to him.  Hadn’t seen him like that in quite a while.  I guess he hit a rought patch or something.  Me and Bob, one of the NN (“neighborhood nuts”), decided to take Pedro home and make sure he got in the door safely,  he had his bottle of Kessler’s and his hat and he made it home alright. Holy crap this status is getting too long…  Well when you’ve had another perfect day like I’ve had, you tend to remember a lot of details about it. 
 
Bub was still there when I got back to my pops so it wasn’t really crowded with the four of us in the two room shack my pops owns outright, except for the Queen’s Taxes.  Bub is another NN.  I break out my li’l sack of sativa sitting on the catpiss stained couch pops sleeps on.  Bob is the second-most sober of the four of us but he can’t roll for shit.  Pops is too busy so I toss the sack to Bub and ask him to roll.
 
He grabs my li’l wee sack as well as the weed and dumps out half of it, about enough for four of pops’ prisoner joints and I’m “Like hey man! That’s half the bag!”
 
Bub just grins and says, “Hey man! I was in prison too long, I don’t know how much to dump out.”  He drops a couple buds back in the sack and starts breaking it up.  Bub is one of my favorite NN when he doesn’t get redneck drunk.  Pops is ready to roll the weed cause Bub can’t roll for shit either and rolls up two prisoner joints for the four of us.
 
I’m hoping it will mellow them out a little bit cause they are all telling neighborhood stories and Bob keeps interrupting pops.  Pops likes to yell at Bob and sometimes Bob’ll get his feelings hurt and go back to his camper across the street.  But not today, these characters were three sheets when I got there at four o’clock.
 
Back before I put aside my practice of Plaid Magic, Bob had told me that Linda had gotten a whole box of old letters from the middle 1900’s and had asked me if I still collected stamps and stuff.  He had a few with him.  I told him they were of little value to me and probably not worth much but if he could find an old Valentine from the 30’s or 40’s I might be interested because I was casting a lovespell for my sister and could use it in the spell.  He comes back five minutes later with a Valentine from like 1942 and I gave him two bucks.  Man he was a happy camper.
 
Anyway after we smoked the first joint,  Bob remebered that episode and we started reminiscing about the neighborhood adventures and people who had moved out or moved on.  There’s more that happened today, but tjis writer is getting sleepy and is signing off…  Have a blessed day
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