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recent publication credits include Former People, the Poet and Down in the Dirt.

Former People Will Publish “Lone Foreigner Hiking the Seoul City Walls”

Hi Jake, I would like to publish "Lone Foreigner Hiking the Seoul City
Walls"? Is it still available? And do you have an author photo to go
with your work?

Lone Foreigner Hiking the Seoul City Walls

a Lone foreign male hiker
in the hills above the city
Hiking along the ancient Seoul City walls

500 years after the founding
Of the city in 1492

balancing his walk
amid the boulders
the winter is coming
soon he thinks

and finishes his hike
heading to a bar
to sake his thirst

some soju, and bulgogi
will do the trick
he thinks to himself

just another day
in the life

of an unknown nameless
foreigner in the city
of Seoul

part of the ten million
naked stories
in the big city

Former People published three of my poems, “New Years Visit to the Oregon Coast”, ‘Indian Casino Thoughts” and “Casino Thoughts”
oregon coast
New Years Visit to the Oregon Coast

The end of the year
We drove to Bookings on the Oregon Coast
We had a pleasant drive through the mystic fog shrouded Redwoods.

The gathering gloom of the dark woods foretold my dismal mood
Slept soundly to the sound of the ocean.
The super moon light filled
the beach outside our window
with an eerie light all night long.

As we slept people walked the beach
Enjoying the full moon
And the unusually warm weather
Setting off fireworks at midnight

In the morning I went for a nice walk along the beach
and thought about the year that was.

As the waves pounded the shore
I was filled with calmness
Enjoying the morning calm
And the unusual warm weather

Thinking that the storm is coming
That perhaps we are in the end of our days
With the political storms threatening us all

Yet the ocean reminded me
This too will pass
And we will endure
Until the end of our time
On earth

The ocean waves soothed my soul
And I prepared to drive back through the mystic redwoods
Back to my home

And the peaceful ocean waves
Reminded me
the end of my life
Comes closer to my door

Indian Casino Thoughts

Indian casino Fun
Indian casinos seem to be everywhere
I have stopped off here and there
In rural enclaves across the land

The Indian casinos run by the mob
For the benefit of the tribes
The Indian’s revenge on the White man
For stealing their land
Is to steal their money

One gamble at a time
And make them pay
For the crimes they committed

Almost always have a welcome mat
To teach the ignorant visitor
Something about their lost culture
With words in the native languages

Words that would be illegal to have spoken
Not so long ago
As the genocide against the tribes
Was in full force

Nowhere worse than in Oregon
And northern California
Along the foggy coastal lands
Where the final solution
Almost worked

The survivors
Such as they are
Operate dismal dark depressing casinos
Here and there in the rural countryside
Along the coast

And in the hinterlands here and there
Most barely making any money
There are so many gambling joints
Across the land

And the Indians are being screwed
Out of their gambling riches
By the big gaming consortiums
That run the casinos
In the reservations

And across the land
And I wonder
Just how much money
Have these Indian casinos

Stolen from the elderly pensioners
And other fools that flock to their premises

Their neighbors in these small towns
Where the Indian casino
is the only joint open
For business

indian gaming wikipedia

Casino Thoughts

las vegas
Sitting in a casino of the damned
Somewhere on the Las Vegas Strip
Playing the slots

Watching the crowd go wild
Watching the machines watching me
Drinking the free drinks of the damned
20 drinks too sober

And the gamblers on the gaming tables
Gambling away their fortune
Throwing money away
In hopes of the payoff
That somehow never comes

The pure decadent spectacle
The fake this and fake that
Phony this phony that
False New York
Paris in Vegas

Venetian canals, Roman forum
MGM Grand Lions
All fake, all phony
All deliciously decadent

The noise
The scantily clad waitresses
The men ogling the women
The women ogling back at them

The scent of wild decadence
Bad craziness in the air
The music – the lounge music from hell

The constant sound
Of money exchanging hands
It all overwhelms me

And I must sit down
And drink my reality drink
Drink it down and dirty

As I continue
To feed the hungry, greedy machines
Made in a workshop in hell

No doubt with child or slave labor
Imported from the third world

All my money
Is sucked into it
These machines from hell

The beast from revelation appears
Stands revealed in his hideous glorious beauty
Conducting this mad scene

And I am consumed by the greed
And the frenzy takes over me
All I want
All I need
All I desire
Is one more chance

One more shot
I scream
At the utterly unfeeling monsters
That ate my money
And chewed up my soul

And I know
The worst drug of all
Is the gambling fever
The gold bugs

I would sell my soul
If I had one left
For a chance
At the jack pot of life

Instead I am reduced
To a pathetic broken down looser
Watching the world and Elvis
Pass him by

Viva Las Vegas
Imperial God of the American Dream
Bitch Goddess of the American Nightmare

The Poet to Publish ‘Buddha Cat and Meeting God in a Lake”

The Poet will publish ‘Buddha Cat, and Meeting God in a Lake” in their Faith Anthology

Hope you're well and staying safe. Sorry for the delay; have only just started to look at FAITH!

I enjoyed reading all your submissions but I can't add them all into the anthology, even though they follow each other, so I'll add: MEETING GOD IN A LAKE and BUDDHA CAT OF EDSALL ROAD.

Back in touch shortly.


Robin Barratt
Writer, Author, Publisher.
THE POET magazine
T: + 44 (0) 7508 833 433
W: www.RobinBarratt.co.uk
W: www.ThePoetMagazine.org
Facebook: @Robin.Barratt1 (personal)
Instagram: @RobinBarratt1 (personal)
LinkedIn: @robinbarrattwriter

From: jake aller <authorjakecosmosaller@gmail.com>
Sent: 31 March 2021 07:57
To: Robin Barratt <RobinBarratt@hotmail.com>; Robin <Robin@thepoetmagazine.org>; ccRobinBarratt@hotmail.com <ccRobinBarratt@hotmail.com>
Subject: poems for Faith Anthology


Here are six poems for your consideration for your on faith anthology.

Meeting God in a Lake
Cosmic Cat from Berkeley
Meeting God in Bombay
Cosmic Dog From Goa
Buddha Cat from Edsel Road

These have been published, most recently in Hypertext in 2020.

Meeting God in a Lake

In my 64 years around the sun
I encountered God four times
At least I thought it was God
But could never be sure

The first time I met God
I had taken magic mushrooms
And had gone to a lake

And soon was tripping inside my head
Lost in inner space

Zoning out tuning in
Dropping down the proverbial rabbit hole

And then in the middle of my madness
I felt oneness with the universe
My body melted away

And I joined the universe
All boundaries dropped away

And I knew that the universe was alive
and I was part of the Cosmos
And the Cosmos was part of me

And I wondered at that moment
If I was face to face with God

I asked God to reveal himself to me
And nothing happened

Just laughter as the whole universe
Burst into laughter

And the madness began to fade
And I slowly came down from the high

And became aware of myself
And I was no longer one
With the universe

I felt profoundly moved by the experience
Felt that I had achieved perhaps nirvana
Or felt the presence of God

The feeling faded over time
And my quest to find God resumed

But I knew that I would never again
Come so close to the divine essence
Of the very Universe

Buddha Cat of Edsall Road

I had another encounter
With the divine recently
Another Cosmic cat perhaps

Perhaps not
who knows what cats are

are they aliens
from another dimension
or was he channeling God ?

I called him the Buddha cat
For the cat loved
Sitting in a meditative pose

Not moving
Just starting at me
With his soulful deep eyes
Boring into my soul
exploring all my secret thoughts

the Buddha cat does not move
does not react, as he is so deep
into his interior mediation
truly in tune with the cat universe
and the cosmos as well

the Buddha cat
seems to be one with God
one with Buddha, Allah, Ganesh
and the billion names of God
Known and unknown

The Buddha cat can teach us all
About the art of meditation

As he zones inward
And loses his soul
Joining the cosmos
And becoming the Buddha cat

The Buddha cat
Lives in a modest Town house
In a modest suburb

The Buddha cat reminds us all
To look for God in the everyday
All around us
If we but have eyes
To see God everywhere

20210415 Scars just published a Down in the Dirt issue collection book with material from you!


3:50 AM (9 hours ago)

Hi there from Down in the Dirt - we wanted to let you know that Scars
Publications released a collection book of the January-April 2021 issues
from Down in the Dirt magazine. Since your material (writing/artwork)
APPEARS in these issues, that means your material appears in this issue
collection book, and we wanted to let you know about this brand-new issues
collection book is titled "Excerpts from the Plague Years"!

Links to see all of the Down in the Dirt writings in "Excerpts from the
Plague Years":

And you can find this book any time at Scars in MULTIPLE locations. Now it
is linked on the main page at http://scars.tv, and it appears at the top
of the list of choices on the books link (one click away from the main
page, or also directly at http://scars.tv/books/) as well as at the top of
the "CD Books Sale" link (direct link http://scars.tv/sale/) at Scars!

Also, by the end of the business week this week, the database with your
accepted writings should also (when you go to your accepted writings) have
a link to this collection book that your writing is in, so people can find
links to this collection book on your writing pages in the writings
section of http://scars.tv (at

Links for ordering this collection book appears on all of the links above,
and will also appear in the writings section too, so any of your writing
in this collection book will also see a link to this collection book in
the writings section too!


Currently these books are available directly through the Amazon affiliate
printer in the U.S., the U.K. and to Europe - and even to Japan and
Australia, and it ships to India too! (the above link is for U.S. orders.)

So check out the Scars Publication links to see what material of yours
appears in these collection books, and if you'd like, order a copy today
(I hear they make great gifts!), and again, thank you for being a part of
the Down in the Dirt community!

Janet K.
Down in the Dirt Magazine

If you for any reason have difficulty sending emails to this address, you
can (in emergencies only) send your questions/emails to Janet Kuypers
through facebook, or directly to janetkuypers at gmail dot com.

Enjoy the 2021 magazine collection book from Scars Publications and Down in the Dirt magazine, with the January-April 2021 magazine issues titled “Excerpts from the Plague Years”.
The author names in this listing appear as they are listed in magazine issue/books. For writings that appear in issues, the titles of their writing do not appear on this web page, but all of the names are linked to the individual issue/book that actually contains the material.
To know exactly what is included in this collection book, view the listing below. All author entries are listed in this collection book as they are listed in magazine issue/books.

Excerpts from
the Plague Years
Down in the Dirt
January-April 2021
issue collection book
Order the 6" x 9"
paperback ISBN# book

through Amazon

Also available through Amazon
in the U.K.,Europe and Japan,
& ships to India and Australia.
(Images printed inside this book
are printed in black and white;
Internet links are color images.)

below is a listing of the accepted writers
and titles writing in this collection.

Down in the Dirt v179, January 2021 “a Stretch of Highway”


Despy Boutris This Morning, I Mistake the
Sound of Thunder for Bombs
On Overcoming Gamophobia

J. Ross Archer Ticket to Romance
About J. Ross Archer

Vern Fein Perception
Beautiful Baby Grand

Ferris E. Jones The Exit

John Zedolik Revenue

Patrick Eades They Shouldn’t Have Been on the Road

Christopher Strople 2 Avenues photography

Kali Parsons Always in the Background (+ art)
Author Bio

Roger G. Singer A Casual Moment

Doug Hawley Funerunreal

Edward Michael O’Durr Supranowicz Remembering the Good Times art

Doug Hawley Altared States

Janet Kuypers nonetheless
See a YouTube video of Janet Kuypers reading her poems “nonetheless”, “Eighteen and Eight, Plus Eighteen: Where We’ve Been and What We’ve Seen”, “Plot and Wait”, “Old Stomping Grounds”, and “Waiting to Take the Plunge” from the “a Stretch of Highway” section of the Scars Publications 1-4 2021 Down in the Dirt issue collection book “Excerpts from the Plague Years” (released 4/15/21), read 4/7/21 during the usual time for Austin’s “Community Poetry” (this video was filmed from a Panasonic Lumix 2500 camera; posted on Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, Pinterest, Instagram, and Tumblr). #janetkuypers #janetkuyperspoetry #janetkuypersbookreading

See a Facebook live video stream of Janet Kuypers reading her poems “nonetheless”, “Eighteen and Eight, Plus Eighteen: Where We’ve Been and What We’ve Seen”, “Plot and Wait”, “Old Stomping Grounds”, and “Waiting to Take the Plunge” from the “a Stretch of Highway” section of the Scars Publications 1-4 2021 Down in the Dirt issue collection book “Excerpts from the Plague Years” (released 4/15/21), read 4/7/21 during the usual time for Austin’s “Community Poetry” (this video was filmed and streamed from a Samsung S9 camera). #janetkuyperspoetry #janetkuypersbookreading

3 5 7 love poem
3 5 7 love poem

John (“Jake”) Cosmos Aller

Missing you missing me
Dreaming about you, do you dream the same
Will love you until end of time; will you remember me then?

An Old Man Visits His Wife’s Grave

An Old Man Visits His Wife’s Grave

John (“Jake”) Cosmos Aller

An Old man
Goes to the grave
Of his beloved wife

Carrying her favorite flowers
And a guitar
Playing her love songs
As he remembers her life

Blaming it all
On the damn coronavirus Pandemic
Killing thousands every day
As politicians play games

The dead remain dead
he hears his wife’s voice
from beyond the grave

she is a corona ghost
he wishes he were there with her
as he plays his mournful love songs

he lays down for a moment
and becomes another Corona ghost
just another death that lonely day

April 30 In Search of America 1975 – Hitch hiking Tales
April 30 In Search of America 1975 – Hitch hiking Tales

John (“Jake”) Cosmos Aller

When I was young and foolish
Broke and stubborn
I hitchhiked across the USA

Started in Salt Lake City
Where my greyhound bus pass
Was stolen

The station manager
Could have helped me
But refused to do so

Threaten to call the cops
When I grabbed my bags Without the stolen tags

I said
Go ahead
But I am so out of here

Wondered about Salt Lake City
Went to a bar
Found I had to buy my booze
Next door
And they would mix it for me

Had to order food too
After a bloody Mary
And a burger

I walked about town
Saw the Mormon Temple

Finally about 3 pm
It was time to hit the road
Did not look back

Ended up in Cody Wyoming
Got a room shower
Steak beer
Using my rapidly depleted cash Spent 25 dollars
Money really went far
Back in those days

A band of professional
Communist agitators
Gave me a ride
To Des Moines

Lots of weed, booze
And politics later
Got off the road
Slept outside

Next day
A beautiful woman
Drove me to near Chicago
In a red mustang

Might have been
The girl in the song
Took it easy
Digging her vibe

She invited home
But was not sure
If her estranged husband
Would welcome me

So, I am being foolish
And inexperienced with women
Did not go to her place

And always regretted
That I had lost
My chance that day

Then on to Chicago
Several rides later
Visited friends

Hit the road again
A series of uneventful rides
With truckers
And others

And a week later
I ended in New York City

Slept along the way
In cars
In truck stops
In high way rest stops

Always moving
Always going
Non stop talking
And lots of free weed
And beer
And conversation

One more memorable ride
Occurred outside Albany
On my return to Chicago

A middle age creepy looking man
Picked me up
In a brand-new Cadillac

He was he said a dynamite deliverer
For the Mafia
Went to various places
To blow up shit

He hated a lot of people
Particularly hippies from California
And Jewish people

Looking at me to confirm
That I was both

I told him that I lived in New York
And had never been to California
And although I might have looked Jewish
As I what was called back in the day
A “Jewfro”

I was not Jewish
Many years later I discovered
That I am indeed part Jewish
But then I did not know
And I felt a bit of strategic information
Might keep me alive

Then I realized that he was just jiving with me
And we relaxed
And he pulled out some weed
And beer
And we mellowed out

But I believe that he really was with the mob
Perhaps not a dynamite dealer
A real made Italian made mafia member

By Chicago
I had enough
I called my Dad
Told him what had happened

Wanted a ticket home
And he sent me a ticket
And 500 dollars
And I went home

I told him I would tell him
My tales some day
But never did

I learned so much
About my fellow Americans
And the strange vibe
That was 1975

And now it is too late
But I wanted to finally
Tell the world

Of my hitchhiking tales
In search of America 1975

Charles Bukowski Road Not Chosen

Order this writing in the book
On a Rainy Day
(the 2017 poetry, longer prose
& art collection anthology)
get the 298 page poem,
longer prose & art
collection anthology
as a 6" x 9" ISBN#
paperback book:

Charles Bukowski Road Not Chosen

John (“Jake”) Cosmos Aller

While reading Charles Bukowski poetry
On the metro ride home
Listening to Buddha bar music
On my oh too hip IPod

I begin to see myself as I was
Over 30 years ago when I was merely a bit player
A minor character in a Charles Bukowski poem

A wild young underemployed intellectual
Hanging out in dismal bars and dives all over Asia and California
Hanging with disreputable women and drunks and drinkers
And characters out of his kinds of haunts

A mad poet bard of the underground
A drunken poet in a drunken bum show
That nightly played in his head

Then one day I met the women of my dreams
And went down a different path
A long slow path to respectability

And now 30 years later
I am no longer a wild man
I am still a poet at heart
But I am now also a bureaucrat
In a button down suite

Doing the people’s business
Working for the Government
I’ve become the Man

Sometimes I wonder
Would I have been better off
Going down that another path

Would I have ended up
Somewhere else
Doing something else

Would I have been as happy
Would I have been as successful?

There is no answer that satisfies
The longing in my heart
For that wild thing
That still lurks beneath
It’s civilized cover

And I know that I am still
A mad poet at heart
Railing against the injustice of the world

As I work day by day in the belly of the great beast of State
I recall the ancient Chinese saying,
“Confucian during the day while Taoist rebel at night”
Playing out in my head and nightly dreams
In the true American Upper class patrician tradition

I close the book and look out the window
Get off the train, and walk slowly home

And realize I had no choice
But to take the path that I’ve trodden on

And so I put aside my misgivings
And say goodbye to my “Bukowskian”desires
For another night of domestic contentment

Was it worth it all to take the conventional path
And not take the bohemian road to hell and back

I look at my wife and realize
I had no choice, had no choice
But to follow her to the ends of the earth

And beyond by her side as we walked our path
Of shared destiny

Goodbye Charles Bukowski wherever you are
May I meet you in a bar in the next life
And figure out where we should have gone

Until then the drinks are on me.

Fallen Dreams Litter the Ground

allen Dreams Litter the Ground

John (“Jake”) Cosmos Aller

In the fall weather
As I walk amid the falling leaves
I see the signs everywhere

Of the fall of America
The once great and mighty Empire
Everywhere signs of the fall appear

The dark skies mirror
The darkness that settled over our land

Death, destruction and random acts of chaos
Are all around us
Surrounding us with visions of doom

Nothing can stop the bloodletting
No one seems to be in charge

As the leaves fall
And the darkness descends
The fall of America continues

If you’ve been around

If you’ve been around

If you’ve been around
As much as I have
Decades of memories
Fill up your brain’s hard drive

Remembering the dead
Misremembering the living
Seeing the past fly past
Everywhere you go

Thinking about things
You did and did not do
As your life begins to fade
Sinking into lost worlds past

Seeing the ghosts
Of all you knew
Whispering Soon you will
Be joining us

Lone Foreigner Hiking the Seoul City Walls
Lone Foreigner Hiking the Seoul City Walls

a Lone foreign male hiker
in the hills above the city
Hiking along the ancient Seoul City walls

500 years after the founding
Of the city in 1492

balancing his walk
amid the boulders
the winter is coming
soon he thinks

and finishes his hike
heading to a bar
to sake his thirst

some soju, and bulgogi
will do the trick
he thinks to himself

just another day
in the life

of an unknown nameless
foreigner in the city
of Seoul

part of the ten million
naked stories
in the big city

My Name Is Nobody
My Name Is Nobody

John (“Jake”) Cosmos Aller

My name, it is Nobody
No one cares who I am
I am just a nameless clone
In the cold unfeeling bureaucracy

Just one of the army
Of civilians who flood into and out of the city
Every day

A non-entity,
A ghost
A govbot
A cyber
A spook
A faceless automan
A bureaucrat

Just a grey suited cog in the machinery
And no one cares
No one knows who I really am

And I am legend
Everywhere and nowhere

Just the way this modern world
All shred of humanity
Crushed beneath the cruel wheel of society

In the cold harsh world
There is no room anymore
For true human feelings

We are just robots, clones, machines
And so I go to work
Put on my mask

And no one hears my inner screams
And no one will ever care

Snarling Cup of Coffee

Order this writing in the book
Art House
the 2019 poetry,
flash fiction,
prose and art
collection anthology
get the 214 page poetry,
flash fiction, prose, & art
collection anthology
as a 6" x 9" ISBN#
paperback book:

Snarling Cup of Coffee

John (“Jake”) Cosmos Aller

I like to start my day with a hot cup of coffee
I pound down the coffee
First thing I do every day as the dawning sun
Lights up my lonesome room

Yeah, but not just a simple cup of java Joe, but a God damn snarling sarcastic smarmy cup of coffee
I mean, – we are talking about an alcoholic, all speed ahead, always hot, always fresh, always there when I need it, angry, attitude talk to the hand Ztude, bad, bad assed, beats breaking, beatnik, bluesy, bitter, bitchy, bombs away, capitalistic, caffeinated up the ass, cinematic, communistic, Colombian grown, Costa Rican inspired, Cowabunga to the max, crazy assed, devilishly angelic, divine, divinely inspired, dyslexic, epic, extreme vetting, evil eye, expensive, erotic vision inducing, Ethiopian coffee house brewed, euphoric, freaky, freazoid, foxy, Frenched kissed, French brewed, funkified, foxy lady, graphic, GOD in my coffee, with Allah, Ganesh, Jesus, Kali, Buddha, Christians, Durga, Hindus, Mohamed, Jesus and Mo and their friend, the cosmic bar maid, Sai Babai, Shiva, Taoists, Zoroastrians, drinking my god damned coffee in Hell; growling, gnarly, happy, hard as ice, Hawaian blessed, high as a kite, hippie, hip, hipster, hip hoppy, hot as hell yet strangely sweet as heaven, jazzy, jealous, Kerouac approved, kick ass, kick my god damn ass to Tuesday, kick down the doors and take no prisoners, grown in the Vietnam highlands by ex-Vietcong, Guatemalan grown, kiss ass, illegal in every state, imported from all over the god damn world, insane, lovely, loony, lonely, lonesome, malodorous mean old rotten, motherfucking, nasty, narcotic, never whatever, never meh, never cold, not approved by the CIA, not approved by DHS, not approved for human consumption by the FDA, not your daddy’s sissified corporate cup of coffee, NOT DECAFE coffee, not your Denny’s truck driver weak as brown water cup of fake coffee, not your establishment friendly cup of coffee, Not your FBI coffee, Not FAKE Herbal coffee substitute, but a real cup of coffee, not your farmer brothers dinner crap, not made in America for Americans, not safe for work, not your Starbucks average expensive overpriced crappy corporate chain cup of coffee, Not pretentious, Not White House approved, not State Department safe, nuclear, Not Patriotic, operatic, Peets’s coffee approved, paranoid, pornographic, psychotic, pontific, politically aware, rapping, rhyming, right here, right now in River city, rock and roll up the Yazoo, sad, sadistic, sarcastic, sassy, satanic, schizoid, shitting, silly, sexy, smarmy, smelly, smooth, snarky, snarling, stupid, stinking, sweet as honey, sweat inducing, symphonic, Trump can’t handle this coffee, vengeful, Wagnerian, wicked, with nutmeg and cinnamon swirls, with a hint of stevia, with a hint of vanilla, with a hint of rum, with a hint of whisky, with a hint of cherry, with a hint of fruit overtones, with a hint of drugs spicing up the coffee, spendific, speeding, splendid, superior accept no substitutes, survived the Vietnam war, the Iraq war, the Afghan war, the first and Second Korean war, World War 11, the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on black people, the sexual revolution, Soulful as a summer’s night in MOTOWN- James Brown approved, TOP approved, Berkeley approved, the coffee that Jimmy Hendrix drank before he died, the coffee that Elvis drank on his last breakfast, the coffee that Barry White crooned as he drank his cup of coffee – and the coffee that made the white boy play stand up and play that funky music, the coffee that made Jonny B Goode play his guitar, and made Jonny bet the devil his soul after he drank his morning cup of righteous coffee and the coffee that make the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll, the coffee your mother warned you against drinking, the coffee that Napoleon drank when he became the Emperor of all Europe, the Coffee that Beethoven drank when he wrote the Ninth symphony, the coffee that Mozart drank as he wrote his last symphony, the coffee that Lincoln drank before he was killed, the Hemingway drank before he killed himself, the coffee that started the 60’s, and ended the 20th century, the coffee that Lenin drank as he plotted revolution, the coffee that Hitler and Stalin drank with FDR as they divided up the world after World War 11, the cup that JFK drank before he was blown away, the coffee Jerry drinks while driving in cars with random celebrities and political figures, the coffee that Jon Stewart drinks before he goes on an epic take down of some foolish politico, the cup of Arabic coffee that Sadaam drank the day he was executed, the coffee that GW and Cheney drank when they bombed Baghdad, the Indian cup of coffee that Bid Laden drank before 9-11 and just before the seals blew his ass to hell, the cup of coffee that Tiger Woods drank with his mistresses while playing a 3, 000 dollar round of golf at Sandy Lane golf course in Barbados, the last legal drug that does what drugs should do, the cup of coffee that Obama drank when he became President, Vietnamese, Vienna brew, wacky, whimsical, Whisky Tango Foxtrot, wild, weird, wonderful, WOW, Yabba dabba doo! Yada Yada yada Zappa’s favorite cup of cosmic coffee, and Zorro’s last cup of coffee, Good to the last drop rolled into one simple cup of hot coffee

As I pound down that first cup of coffee
And fire up my synaptic nerve endings with endless supplies
Of caffeine induced neuron enhancing chemicals

I face the dawning day with trepidation and mind-numbing fear
I turn on the TV and watch the smarmy newscasters in their perfect hair
Lying through their teeth about the great success the government is having Following the great leader’s latest pronouncements
I want to scream and shoot the TV and run out side Shouting

“Stop the world.

I want to get off this fucking crazy planet”
The earth does not care a whit about my attitude
It merely shrugs and moves around the Sun
In its appointed daily run
And I sit down
The madness dissipating a bit

And enjoy my second cup
Of heaven and hell
In my morning cup of Joe

Strangeness in the Air

Strangeness in the Air

John (“Jake”) Cosmos Aller

There is a strangeness in the air
A sense of cosmic unease
Hangs silently in the purple crystalline sky

America woke up
And decided it was time
To quit following like lemmings
Over the Clift

As the pied piper chants
Stay the course, stay the course
We were like lemmings following him
Dying to save his wounded pride

Today there is that strange difference
In the air
As Americans woke up
And threw off their chains of fear

Unhinged Lunatic Howling at the Full Moon

Unhinged Lunatic Howling at the Full Moon

John (“Jake”) Cosmos Aller

On the night of the blood red super full moon
I sat in an evil, depraved godforsaken bar

Drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
Washed down by endless rounds of whiskey
rum, tequila, vodka, soju and of course beer
drinking with my buddies the Jack Daniels Gang

Drinking my way to Hell and beyond
Just as fast as I could
twenty damn drinks too sober

Just an unhinged lunatic
Dreaming of howling at the full moon

Watching the world walk by
Looking at all the fine-looking babes
Walking by the street

Thinking wild, erotic thoughts
Of endless wild libertine passions

When into the bar
That din of cosmic depravity

Walked the most beautiful women
In the Universe

So wild, so free
So wonderfully alive

I did not know what to do
As this vision of delight
Sauntered through the bar

In a skin-tight leather pant
Looked so fine
That my eyeballs hurt

And finally, I had to say something
So, I gathered up my manly courage
And walked up to her

And she looked at me
And instantly bewitched my soul

With a devilish grin
I lost all reason
And became a raving lunatic
Unhinged lunatic
Howling at the blood red full moon

Foaming at the mouth
A wild, free werewolf
Howling at the lunatic light
Of the blood red blue full Moon

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