2003 – 2009

hedonistic trip

black haired
post punk grandma
behind the bar
and the cute tattooed chick
with a bit of a paunch
slinging beer
like there’s no tomorrow
wearing a don’t mess with me
no smiling mood

and the tall skinny slacker
looking like a shadow
or a bass player
carrying 2 armful
stacks of glasses
in his own
bohemian balancing act
he’s wearing a wedding ring
on his long thin young finger
but vibe i get
he’d mess with
a hardcore punk girl
in an agro second

no minors
no homophobes
no assholes
written by the door
‘that cuts out quite a few’
the italian guy says
behind me
as we merge in
and he buys me a beer
in an act of
‘random kindness’

but black ones
and blue ones
gentle ones
and musicians
pseudo handsome ones
artist barbarians
and bohemians
are welcome
thank you
and . . .
do i have to leave
this city

beautiful brunette boys
disheveled seattlites
looking like they just
crawled out of bed
and wudn’t mind
crawling back in . . .
with you

clothes strewn haphazardly
over whatever limbs
they fit in
on rugged wrecked
and unshaven frames
and inappropriate tattoos
on under arms elbows
and shoulder blades
dead sexy
even ears and faces
what were they thinking
yet makes me wonder
why i never got one
i tend to do everything
that’s inappropriate
at least once

and piercings
in every orifice
i don’t even want
to see the rest
tho i slip into
the gay eagle bar
by accident
it was ‘underwear nite’
and the boys were semi nude
and prime for spanking
or wanking
i’ll pull your chain
if u pull mine
where the hell
is the exit sign

a weekend of
over stimulated like
a siamese cat
that’s been pet too much
on an allergic lap
r.e.m. daniel lanois
gordon downie and buddy
c.r. avery and his
debauchery band

I stay at the mansion again
‘my new digs’
says crazy caretaking charles
with the bull dog
that almost swallowed my arm
and as usual
hanging with the chicks
at the wild rose café
and as always
shopping for funky
and retro clothes
that i can’t
not afford

then threesome propositions
duet baths and naked swimming
even pseudo aunt merrie
has lost it
she’s wearin dresses
then leather pants
and biker boots
even mascara and lipstick
make up your mind
for your new
black sugar she daddy
getting it straight
w/whips + chains
yow auntie

what planet
have i landed on
nothing is the same
as i listen to the sounds
of an orgy
but like andy warhol
i am just a voyeur
a listener
documenting things
i don’t necessarily partake in
tho even my van was moaning
and my neck is left
with a purple love bite
from that vampire nite

and at the end
of the hedonistic trip
jumped in the lake
nude with moni
who is quite the firecracker
and when i hugged
her goodbye
she started
sucking on my neck
and i teeter tauter
between shock
and titillation

and i still wonder
what the hell
was in seattle’s water
on this hedonistic trip
praps i shud save some
in a little bottle
and put a drop
on my tongue
when I could use
a bit of sexy elixir

the monk

how strange i feel
knowing too much about a stranger
how strange i feel
looking thru photo albums
w/ written blurbs
of people i do not
and I may not
ever know

i wud not allow this of me
a blasphemy
of my privacy
my mystery, my sanctuary,
and my sanity
and what is sacred
u can have a bit
but never all
u can take a bite
but never swallow
i am capricorn
after all

how strange i feel
knowing too much about someone
before i’ve even met
how did this happen
how did u let them
how do u allow
strangers in
to your sacred grounds
into your garden
of eden
don’t u see them
making footnotes
on your path
and taking photos from
your cherry trees
like paparazzis

u are naked now
in front of everyone
but no one in particular

how strange for me really
cuz all i wanna do
is live by the sea

and rite now
i live in a cave
a beautiful cave
that no one knows
the whereabouts
i have no address
+ I have no phone
no one to see
and no one to answer to
but i have a bed
that I lay in
and my secrets sleep
underneath it
like coyotes
that have forgotten
to howl
yet I pet them
and they growl
which puts me to sleep
and saves me
from the stalkers
+ the voyeurs
in the morning

i wish i was the monk
who lives in that cave
i must meet him
and i will ask him
his secrets

for 10 years
he’s lived in that cave
i want to know why
and i want to know how
and i want to know
the monk in the cave
cuz rite now
i know nothing
at all

the gumboot

just got back
vox and mail box packed
got dirty feet
sea salty hair
+ a pocket full
of black rocks
got hairy legs
forgot my razor
and i’m pretty sure
i smell bad
but up on the
sunshine coast
it really
didn’t matter
we’re talkin tatoos
and dreadlocks
wayward dogs
and grass growing farmers

petunia played
and yodeled
like there’s no tomorrow
and kazooed
on the big rock candy mountain
+ stoned nancy danced
in the corridor
like a pretty lunatic
not letting anyone pass
as she wiggled her ass
and i sat
in a dark corner
+ wrote
under odd artwork
in the gumboot cafe

trampoline and
+ puppy dog tales
a secret beach
and floating in the sea
near playful whales
sunsets on the pier
and a couple holy moments
like the eagle
w/a trout in it’s mouth
i wondered which i was
the hunter
or the prey

i checked out
an abandoned shack
ocean view
praps a place to write
like my life
depends on it

missed the last ferry
surprise surprise
so i jumped off a dock
into the dark sea
like a . . .
slept under the sky
in a yard like a field
big dipper
shooting stars
+ satellites, ufo’s
and a cold wet pillow

back to the gumboot
in the morning
for chris’s magic muffins
and an ice coffee
then to the ferry
back to the city
+ now i must recuperate
from my little holiday
up the sunshine coast
and at the gumboot café
where u have to
pay to get into
but u are always
free to leave

saturday + sunday

last nite
main street crowd
black rooster hair
and tatoos
punk + bouffy haired girls
dancing together
barcu, the peacock
ruffled feathers
cackling at any man
that wud dare to chat w/her
she’s drinking again

2 others
slagging the photographer
that doesn’t make me smile
wanted me
to join in the circle
no thanks
want to keep my summer grin
and jiving!
jiving galore, bizarre really
after my dream
pretty good too

outside rockabillies
anchoring there butt
in the open trunk
of a pointy cadillac
+ mac pontiac didn’t show
the bastard
put your show face on
craig, u are paid to perform
not for ego stroking
damn i wanted to see him
‘xmas in a dirty room’
my favorite carol
he’s a nutcase
but i like him
got a voice like brandy

+ little jeff berner
accordion boy
almost have a crush on him
looks like my ex jon
but much more cocky and quirkier
with a razor wit

+ al moving
likes he’s already dancing
so i asked him
he wudn’t let me waltz w/him
funny man
the only thing i remember
about us together
was that he had a nice lap
to sit on
a very nice lap

banana strawberry peach
whey shake
work out quads, calves, legs
and butt i guess
swim, chlorine
sun, more freckles
veg tofu salad
on organic lettuce

then christy rebag
dropped in
like my sister
then to the pool again
checked her out
w/honey dew breasts
+ child bearing hips

now off to see the wizard
bob @ the sylvia
love Sundays
with bob by the sea

i am mad

i am mad that i am mad
i am mad at my mood
i am mad at me
i am mad at you

i am mad that i have to make money to live
i am mad that i suffer for my passion
i am mad that my passion makes me suffer

i am mad that i let my body go
i am mad that i am growing old
and i am mad
that i didn’t even notice

i am mad that there is a war on
i am mad that people believe propaganda
i am mad that bush is like a bully
in a vindictive school yard
i am mad that people are dying
for that man’s ego and vendetta

i am mad that people don’t say hello
or thank me when i open a door
i am mad that people
wont phone the police
when they hear a woman scream
i am mad that i didn’t do the same
forever, i am mad for that one
her screams still haunt me
i am mad that i was so naïve

i am mad
that my first roommate
was raped
by five men that i knew
i am mad
that one said
he was watching me
i am mad at the police
for saying she wasn’t the first one
i am mad that they treated her
with contempt
and said it was too late
to do anything
i am mad that i wouldn’t listen
ten years later
to the only one
that tried to protect her

i am mad that everyone
tells me their problems
but won’t listen to mine
i am mad that everyone
thinks i am so tough
and so wise, and that
i can fix their lives
and i am mad
when i do the same

i am mad that my grandma
spent so many years
alone in a hospital
without anything to do
but listen, speak and sleep
her active hands dormant
at her sides
i am mad that
my other nana was raped
and had to endure
the repercussions of war
which is a life sentence

i am mad that i am so mean
i am mad that i feel so unlovable
i am mad that i don’t allow
myself to show emotions
i am mad that i rely on alcohol
to take away my problems
i am mad
that this is hereditary
i am mad that no one
in my family
talks about these things

i am mad that i have no
good role model couple
not my parents
not my grandparents
i am mad cuz i don’t know
how to love forever
i am mad cuz i don’t allow
myself to cry at a movie
or sob out loud

i am mad that so many people
i loved have died
i am mad that i have not
helped one woman
get out of the hood

i am mad at the guilt
i feel over every
horrible thing
i have ever said or done
to anyone

i am mad
that i am not happy
i am mad
cuz it is easier
to be mad
than it is
to be sad

beaux bete

he’s rough
he’s raw
he’s in your face
and a bit of a rogue
and he’s definitely
une beaux bete

to him, i think
i’m from another planet
out in orbit
and he is everything
i usually don’t want

i like my men
kinda feminine
and i’m the one
that fixes things
and i’m the one
who rules the roost
and i’m the one
who will fite
for their honor

but le bete
can write
and no doubt roost
cuz he’s pretty cocky
and he can fix things
and fite i can safely summize
by his size

partly yankee
bit like my dad
bit of a cowboy
bit of a cad
bit of a rogue
and definitely
and definitely
il et une
beaux bete

alphabet day

rain words
bouncing on my head
like jumping beans
with no storm warnings

i face a marble sky
a kaleidoscope mind
open my mouth
and let alphabets
take a bird bath
on my tongue

crooked letters
like zeds + x’s
get stuck in my hair
decorating my head
like bobby pins
and burettes

i swallow whole sentences
like shards of diamonds
that have no purpose
in my raw mind
i chew on adverbs
like a cow on it’s cud
and try to swallow
but they come up in a sec
like an unwelcome hiccup
and slip from my purple lips
mispelt + vowels missing
like a rhinestone from a ring
like a penny on the trax

i throw them out
like a battered monet bouquet
from a lingering ex
or fling them onto
a jackson pollock canvass
i blow them in a red balloon
that pops near the sun
and turns the clouds
into a can of
warhol soup

words rain
on my pounding head
there is no storm warning
and my umbrella is dead.

I can almost
swallow tones.

© 2020 Estate of Kat Kosiancic