Blah Blah Blah

I'm not here right now, leave your name and number after the beep.......

Sunday, February 19, 2017

Subway bound downtown Manhattan



Full Measure


I fall in love
Eighteen times a day
For just a moment
Eighteen times a day
I forget just how lonely
I really am
I see a glint
A glimmer
A hint
A grin
A smile
The wind tussped
Rose hint to her hair
And I stare
I can't help it
I don't have to be lonely
The reality
Is they want the same as me
To love
And lust
Comfort
And excitement
To be free
Together
I can't offer all that
At least not in whole measure
And what is a woman worth
More than the half handful of sand left at the top of my life's hour
A full measure
That is her worth
A full measure

Thursday, February 16, 2017

On my birthday, just over 3 years ago, I was given a death sentence. I was told I would degrade until vegetable like my body would wither away until it quit  breathing  heart  quit beating  leaving everything that I love behind picking up the tatters. I kissed a woman for the last time, gave away my freedom to hear my children's voices, and let almost every  thing  else  languor. And, and I researched, I fucking researched, and I fucking researched...my memory is fucked, so I have had to do the same research over and over again. Life is beautiful, but there are only three reasons on this planet worthy of the dedication and desperate seeking that I have gone through the last 40 months...otherwise I would a just fucking killed myself...but I learned a bit through that research, like that vegetable part, and the part that there are places on the planet where they heal branz like mine, so here I am in Manhattan days away from getting into one of those places.  The reality is that I am terrified. I know what the first 8 days is going to be like, as well as the 6 after that. What scares the B-Jesus out of me is what happens then, because dying a vegetable horrifies me.
All that aside, I have kissed a woman, I have celebrated a victory, and I have cried because of a glimmer of hope...
I am in Manhattan trying to live,
I might not have to die this year.


What A Day

Today
It was a day
Like I've often said
Today was a day
Better alive
And not dead
I'm here
And
You're there
A gulf it would seem
The math says though
There's nothing in between
Its all the same they say
Everything's energy
Your energy spoke to mine today
Wipe the tear
Just enough to say
Today,
It was a day
Fucking A,
And a day it was!

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Oh Gods!
Too much to write about...a historical contemporary non fiction novel, a modern edgy exposé on sex in the modern age, and a journey from north to south and coast to coast n the journey to save a life...there is way too fucking much...and the poetry, the fucking poetry! I have a lifetime worth of writing just from the last year...if I live I will never be board...

What if Jefferson was wise enough to see America today, what if he was brutal enough to see us survive at least 100 years longer...

His to get laid in this modern age, and who is getting wicked rich off of it...


You will never get better, you are dying, you have to do something about it. Start at home, and work around the world as you know it experiencing life and some startling and scary realities on the path to a goal you were told did not exist, a goal no one understands, to breathe another day.

"American Shame" "Hook up" and "What the Fuck?"© WanderWithout Publications inc2017- ad infinitum are pieces I am currently working on...

But for now, it is Valentines day 2017 and I am going to an AA meeting on West 46th street off Broadway Time's Square Manhattan Newyork, then tonight I am going to read at an open mike on West 55th street off Broadway at Cassadys pub and Café (I think)
Tomorrow I am going to confession at the Catholic cathedral on 5th ave and West 52 st...then to AA world services 120th St and Colombia to pay homige to my roots and to ask them some questions, questions from a dying drunk, not dying from the disease of alcoholisn. After which I am going to the lower east Village to see where poets goe to thrive or die...

Over the next 8 days I will visit the five corners of the world, the five buroghs of NYC, are they safe, or deadly, or just fucking places? From the bit I've seen, they are more than just fucking places, and it doesn't take Jason Bourn or Jack Reacher or that dude Keanu Reeves plates (mad respect for John Wick, And Reeves himself) to fucking find out, it just takes 9 days of being stuck in Manhattan waiting on the medical care to save your ticking life...time to live while dying... "Dying in Manhattan"©WanderWithout Publications inc. 2017 yeah, imma ho pimpin my shit

On the other hand, I am dying, stuck in Manhattan, off to a meeting...

Chris McQueeney

Monday, February 6, 2017

My aunt thinks that I have not been writing, because I will not allow her to indanger my life without saying something...I am writing three books right now and have been researching on a good number of subjects, why waste my time right? There are only so many hours in the day where I can travel as andso I have done what I always wanted to do, go around the world and write...My Aunt has directly interfered with my medical decisions which was so dangerous that I could have died and almost did, and it cost 20,000$ I have it documented...

ohhh


oh, and you can
with a wave of your hand
skin glossy
slightly sandy rose color
hint of the sun
on a windy morning
where I grew up
where I was forced up
more like
but,
all the same
I said you could
you said you would
and you came
all the same
where it you
with your eyes stuck like hmmm
glued together
not shut
quite
open mm
 slight wedge
eyes wide once again remembering your touch
and the love we once fed
there you go again
rampaging in my head
it was the wave if your hand
not what you said
you do that to me
just like I said
sandy rose color
like morning back home
you do that
you know
just as I said
no longer mourning
brought back to life
no longer dead


Chris McQueeney, ©2/6/2017  WanderWithout Publications Inc. 915 productions Inc ™

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

Its the song in your head



What would you do if the guest came a calling...would you smile, then grin as the guest walked in
Would you let him pass
Your front door


Front door


This is the place between
You and me
A cliff with a ledge
A headge of the bet
Between what we can and cannot see
I walk to the edge
Of that ledge
Never once in all that time
Was I ever really me you speak and I think
If only you knew
I stop to say hi
There's this look in your eye
A natural lie that just now
Came to be
Woh you say that's enough for today I really wish I had some  more time
Oh by the way
Mine blah blah blah min4e
How come you are not positive blah blah like me blah blah as you
Can see blah blah I am Positive blah blah all of the time
I hear very clear whether month
Or year what's mine is not mine
Unless in It U find today
That lie between that tear in the seams that keeps you you
And me me
I heard a knock
A noise in my head
Would you get that
My leggs feel like lead my feet glued to the floor
I need you I said
Alive and not dead
At least till the guest knocks on the door
God was sad
I have heard said
He loved satan from heaven
Still he threw down to earth
Never to return
Forevermore


The world painted read
Grin glued to his head
Since meeting me
Painted red

Satan has never been board
Painted red
He smiled again
Painted red
The world painted red
Wicked grin reeking of sin
As he knocked on my painted red
Bright painted red
Front Door


Christopher McQueeney 2017
©WanderWithout Publications Inc.