nirvana nirvana is a place i walk by each day tired and weary from schoolish pressure nirvana is an alcove just three fronts down from sliding action k-gel bodies in motion on the big screen you don’t experience nirvana you just go in for a while drink lots of water and leave under an adrenaline rush-why? because your mouth is on fire i only pass by nirvana- i've never gone in and only once a day- in the morning i take the short route and am whisked away by a free-running trolley bus of death -if i’m lucky (and early) i have yet another opportunity to give a six thousand dollar tip the word those aryan nations guys are a bunch of mindless jerks who'll be the first against the wall when the revolution comes think of it as evolution in action stop. wait for instructions things are a lot bigger than they seem to be a man who has not killed is a virgin aman who has not cried is dead men who eg es in nirvana one may see the chinese gobbling roasted curry chickens (like they'll never eat again) delicately prepared by Shiva- Destroyer of Worlds and served by nude sikh boys - who giggle endlessly at the obscenity meanwhile, natives pass by, intent on their own murders while sipping spring water from hidden flasks of dark import and magical shine i say i've never gone into nirvana however, i often squint at lists outside detailing delights from the interior of a foreign country i may never know if nirvana was a restaurant it would appear modest though at a point where streets no longer meet at right angles guys and gals snooker away years and years among the local addictions is a craving for vertical, and sex is currency if nirvana was a restaurant, it would be in my neighbourhood -and it is Jeff griffiths march 92 love men are gay men who are afraid of loving men are gay men who kill men who love men are gay so who isn't gay? me, i don't care one way or the other i don't have a clue about women, i'm not the word wanker comes mind when all is lost, count on me when all is found, count on yourself to fuck it up all over again hello, hello, are you alive why are we here? because it happens roll your own, dude. serious is drowning then let ‘im the night air breathes of love and hate, sex and death, at midday it stinks of stupid- ity and denial its that freudian monster inall of us, playing solitaire and drinking beer while we stum- ble into murder plots and lover's quarrels, it waits for the knife the gun, the rototiller, the ballpoint pen, do you smell blood? the word homicide comes to mind hey...hey...calm down man, trees have feelings, too when was the last time you kissed a gopher the media is to blame the media is sacred they're all cows in india they sure aren't human what will save us? god will save us who is god? anybody you meet...on the street...the street of dreams the back alley of horror the culde sac of unending biblical fury is that a banana in your pocket? why yes. (squish) the words information overloadcome to mind jeff griffiths city #3 Streetlights buzz and warm the pavement Muggy night | walk through it To cool my head though jumbled are my thoughts Reactions are all that | am and others are to me the same. My anger is unknowing and misunderstanding and intolerance My fear is unknowing and misunderstanding and intolerance My anger is my fear. | walk to clear the fuzz in my brain The streetlights are impatient, droning their steady voices even in the silence of the sleeping city Alone | walk absorbed in the night. It caresses me and lulls me, comforts me in its gentleness of quiet. Down the block a man crosses the street He approaching leers at me and my legs | must strut and glare and slouch Demean him into not even trying, but respectfully, so as not to offend him To the other side of the street | move away, stepping quickly across. The stranger | toss a contemptuous glance but wariness is in me Ogles me longer but he keeps away and then slumps into a doorway to pass into the oblivion of unconsciousness. A bundle of reactions | realize once again Is all that | am and others are to me the same. Hard edges and paper cuts | work my way home, Filled with the feel of the city. 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