Tagged: Michael Konik

Poem: Our Sober Friend

What’s the point of being sober, he wondered if you still behave like a narcissistic drunk? Wouldn’t it be better for everyone, including him, if nothing really changes or changed? He could stay rooted in the toxic swamp that fed him amply, bloating his self-loathing to inoperable proportions. He should drink, he should be a...

Poem: Runners

When you’re paranoid schizophrenic bi-polar crazy, living by day at bus stops and sleeping at night nobody knows where, getting normal folks to listen, to pay attention to the truth of your Truth, is almost as hard as keeping yourself clean.   Property owners. Cars, houses, purses, devices, wallets full of cards. They’re in a...

Poem: Big Surprise

Didn’t he warn you? Didn’t she scorn you? Hadn’t they found you? Wouldn’t they astound you? You who couldn’t differentiate between abiding love and aberrant hate?   Time will obviate the degradation of your sensate mind and accelerate the assignation of honorifics, burrowing within the fissures of tissue held together by gravity.   Were you...

The Culture High

The handsomely constructed documentary “The Culture High” makes a compelling — and to our mind irrefutable — case that the so-called “War on Drugs” has been a kind of dystopian slow-motion holocaust. Director Brett Harvey has assembled an impressive roster of talking heads, including members of Law Enforcement, to explain clearly and conclusively why drug...

Poem: All the Others

The 2015 MK Spring Poetry Festival, April 20-30   Mother protector, father provider. Brother who helped the elderly. Sister who held children when they cried. Potential saints, condemned sinners. The heretic and the ignorant. The past-tense blasphemous visitors gone before He arrived to save them.   What of them? All the others. The ones who lived...

Poem: Lonely Girl

Splayed on her sofa like a hastily disposed corpse haphazardly stashed out of the way of more important harbingers of Life, she watches the screens, the big one on the wall and the little one in her demure hand, waiting for the next plot point, the next map point, the point of all her affluent solitude,...

Forecasting the Near Future

We agree. It’s a shame that all the blibbety-blabble about nothing couldn’t be contained in a tweet. Or an overlong Facebook post, at least. Sorry. We should have just said, “Update: I’m great. Thanks for asking. Lots of cool things in the works. Stay tuned. More to come. Luv u guys.” Today, our first experiment...

Compassion for the Cops

Everyone is all upset about the latest killing of an unarmed black man by a white police officer. This one was caught on video, so it’s going to be a little harder to explain to a jury why the shooting was justified, especially since the dead man was shot in the back as he fled....

LA Helicopter Noise Initiative

For those of us who feel like Brentwood is starting to sound like Baghdad, a quasi-war zone, with helicopters hovering and circling and buzzing the neighborhoods below, as though we’re being invaded (or reprising Vietnam), relief — or at least a digital venting — has arrived. The LA Helicopter Noise Initiative, in conjunction with the...

Female Problems

The playwright Aristophanes wrote a hit comedy called “Lysistrata.” It’s about all the women in Greece going on a sex strike until all the men agree to stop fighting the Peloponnesian wars. Frustrated husbands walk around onstage with painful erections. It’s funny stuff, if unrealistic. Such a sex strike could never really work. All the...