Pics Of The Bricks


Imagine the characters of days gone by
Using this backdoor alley exit for
God knows why

It brings to mind images of opium-den ingrates
Civil war degenerates
Institutional brothels deadly alley scuffles

In the dead of night might’ve occurred these fights
Quicksilver flash; rosy red splash

This structure of brick; tall and thick
In solemn perpetual snooze, but could
Share all the news

Of all events, never snore, keep the tally
This sentinel did never bore
Of watching the alley

The thumb-bedecked sign makes quaint the design
It feels no guilt about sporting a tilt

Maybe the restaurant is gone
And the sign a relic

But this alley has a story and the sign
helps tell it.


Skeleton visions of memories present and past
This structural framework was erected to last
Some windows have curtains, glass and are occupied
Who knows if all the other tenants are still alive

Or have died

Three windows bricked up, like what was more needed, a wall, two frames repaired
Maybe struck by cannonball

Think of every one of these windows looked out when they said

“Save this building!”
Did they cry, laugh,
Or shout?

I bet one day I’ll come back here and see the whole thing restored
What then will it be?

Could it be more apartments or a hippy-store or a five story studio?
If so, I would buy it, Mister Monster Mojo

If they can take a whole factory and convert it for living
Then I could these ruins restore, to poor musicians I’d be giving

Recording contracts away, like Elvis and his Cadillacs
A real hit-maker downtown by the tracks


The mixtures of textures
Of brick, stone, iron and wood
Bring back certain memories of
This neighborhood
Broken urinals
Pipes leaking like a sieve
during a renowned concert of The Alternative
For a high school dance we played most of the night
As drunker the crowd grew
The more
our plight

They grappled our equipment

And molested our mics

I felt like telling every last one

To take @#&*! hikes

To keep from exploding I walked to the john
And was utterly amazed at the goings-on
The whole room was flooded from what had ensued
I didn’t touch a thing, just came here to brood
For the vandalism The Alternative was blamed
With the owner forever besmirched was our collective name
For the record, we never ripped the urinals off your wall
We were singled out by those coddled little cowards for the fall
If you could only ask your stone wall for the truth
The bricks would bark
The wood whoop
The metal moan
Ye would know forsooth!


We got the arch from the Romans I think
I know they used them in aqueducts in order to drink

If set deep enough it’s possible to gain
A moment’s shelter from oncoming rain

Fort-like in appearance on the empty street
Only my friend, a car in the background and

Behind the camera, me


A fight for survival ensues throughout the land twixt mankind and nature
And the tree makes its stand amongst millions of buildings
Though lovely or quaint, but more majestic than a tree
I’m tellin’ you they ain’t!
Although it’s tied up at two what can nature do
When each resource of course is depleted in force
And what worked the best; then outlawed, I detest
That we feather our nest with such flawed notions
And expect to protect with no regret about the havoc we deploy
Destroy, upset, come get…
Supper’s ready!


The street is deserted but for us two
I nestled in my niche and you

Dedication you must have whilst others say nay
To carry on your regimen on this overcast day

Were you born in the North, for you have on shorts
I’ve on long sleeves and am comfortable as can be

I respect anyone with endurance enough
To run on all this concrete

As for me, I like the park much better
It’s easier on my feet!


I guess you are rested; sinews now continue
To hurtle you forward towards your chosen objective
I took running once in college as an easy elective
I wish you well on your arduous task
As for me, I’m content to remain here and bask
In my thoughts for the day, wondering what’s to come my way
Maybe think of a good zinger as I sit here and linger
The Riverwalk may beckon or Fountain-City Coffee-Shop
Exhausted this subject I have from bottom to top


One need only use their imagination
Looking at the ruins
of this Forgotten Fireplace
Look not at just a pile of rubble
Brick and dust

Not as a spot where no one anymore lingers, but think of its past
& future

Its collective, holistic existence rolled into one
Picture the plans being drawn up for someone’s dream house
All family gatherings made memorable by its rosy haze
Moments of quiet desperation where one may have paused

Adultery or divorce
The birth or death of a child
Marriage proposals

See the lines of strain on this face

Perhaps even a murder occurred at this place
Still the stones stay
Laid with such lasting precision and care
Ponder all these everlasting anonymous moments

Though they are not as old as sequoias
We still would be amazed at their storage
Marks left upon them by the energies of so many...


Anyone can see this wall is headed for trouble.

This section here in the upper-right

Fits together nice ’n’ tight;

While this area below
is fast



In our mind’s eye, what will the gates Of
or Hell
Probably like something from this last life
Of all the times I entered and

left this place
I only took stills without people

Just this once. This shot is clearly the best
Descending from this old hangout
How many times did I almost reach
The bottom skiing on my face?
Polluted with so many chemicals

Vision blurred speech slurred
Certain my behavior
Quite often absurd


This view is more like what I saw
After a long night of jamming
I see no steps ...

What do I do? Slide?


Top off the night with face-slamming?


If these panes formed a face

Wouldn’t the cracks be wrinkles?

All pains so displaced

That I stand here

And tingle


Just how many folks


where this




is at?


Way out of character was this look for Pat
Yet he did very well when asked
To look solemn like that
We ran around town to get
Interesting shots
And from each other life lessons
Were learned and taught
PJ is the kind of friend wth whom
It never mattered how long
You may have been out of touch
He was always great company
For a road-trip
A project
A laugh
A cry
A story
A song

Evil Spirits

You see before you a shrine I worshipped oft
Yet it took me quite some time to realize I was becoming lost
For so long I wondered why all I touched turned to ****
But finally figured out the problem I was, this was it
I had to hit rock bottom in order to change
And find other misfits and try to explain
That life is much better when substances do not rule
One’s every thought and action and one learns to cool
Down our alien tendencies and rage
In time we don’t feel like that animal caged
The time of the brilliant poet, musician or painter dying so young
Is hopefully ending, and to a new way we have clung
In hopes of unlocking our innermost peace
Creativity and harmony never wishing to cease
Maybe even one day they will be able to prove
This is no disease, but a fragile, passionate love
A genetic mutation which wants with all its might
To push us to compose, paint and to write


Have you ever seen
two souls better matched?

A union derived from
Mutual friends plot hatched

The universe eventually
leads us to the one
that heralds to all
our search is done

Timing is crucial
I’ve come to find out
Too late or too soon
Leaves one back on the scout

In Tracey, it has been my luck to discover
My perfect companion, confidante and lover

mojotough mojotough
41-45, M
1 Response Jun 13, 2012

These are about place where I'm from... mainly downtown.