Monday, March 1, 2010


The Santa Cruz night beat the homeless man on the head, stripped him of his cloak, his modesty, his self-disgust. This night came with fog and darkness and a forgotten dream of central heating. The homeless man clawed his way into the nest of discarded clothes and drama. The fog stole into the air and exposed the bleak upset stomach inside the false brochure ads for the boardwalk. Come and sit in the sun. Enjoy the rides. Be one with the universe, belched the come hither ads written by interns full of meat and milk. They wrote them inside offices and buildings with light and porn and music piped in digitally and among the worst of these lies is the cigarette butt falsehoods that disguise themselves in the spiritual absurdities of glossy pages. The sixties went to seed in Santa Cruz and grew poison flowers that attracted diseased flies and torn tie dye shirts, molding in a five gallon bucket. These pill poppers and liars and lovers in vans on the beach road all sang a song of green moss. This chorus of dizzy loss brought a mansion of glory to the house of our revolution. The Beatles were merely rock stars, after all, they couldn’t change the world with a blues riff. Don’t ever put your trust in a guitar madman!

The food not bombs crew slept in bathrooms and empty bedrooms on dirty sheets made of liberation banners. The stray dogs sniffed the weeds near the dirty buckets and ate a meal of potato pleasures while the anarchist operatives smoked glass pipes and pointed at empty tables. “We are on the verge of something great. We can change the world. We can make a difference. Does someone have the lighter?”
It’s a tired time lost in the moon light of a Santa Cruz night. Gravity pulls a man on the street into the earth, it pulls him into the sandy beach and makes him beg for mercy. There are no melodies that inspire him, as a meal missed vanquishes all lust for life and a dozen meals missed makes a man forget his place in the world. And remind the man of all his meals, display a platter of fatted calves and cheese and women lusting for another and he will break into tears and plead for safety.

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Creative Commons License
Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.