Upon the wall was a painting
Simply framed of a Yucca plant
My parents’ home enfolded it
Hanging on the living room wall
always smiling at me
The artist’s hands painted
it upon a wild hill
I looked at it all my life
From babe until the painting
Was stolen away after
my parents’ death.
It had a constant white bloom.
Curiously I looked
at the flower many times
I am sure it sung me to sleep.
The Yucca is a wild plant
The aromatic California
further into the valley and hills
Tall thin and tenuous
boldly spread throughout
Yucca calls us to our
nobility of character
Yucca calls us
to a wild uniqueness
Singing if you listen quietly
A hum older than we know.
By Hudley Flipside April 3/ 2022
I hate festivals
And big shows
I love small clubs
And intimate shows
I hate covid-19.
I hate the divide… big chasm
between punk bands
and their fans
I hate the good security sherpas!
I hate being a face in the crowd
I love being backstage
I love Queen
I hated seeing them at the Long Beach giant coliseum in 1977.
I loved riding in the Santa Monica mountains on my white mustang.
I heard Native American braves screaming
in the wind as we ran our horses through the hills together.
Around the time Elton played at the TROUBADOUR in Hollywood in the early 1970s.
I love my Empty Sky LP I bought from friend Brady at his garage records for sale day.
I hate big Elton John shows
I hate The Angry Samoans
I love a few of their songs
Metal Mike is a wise old fool
I guess he hates me now
I love Bernie Taupin
who is only 3 inches taller than I
“Most people were in bands, if not they did magazines, records, owned stores did artwork etc… it was a scene that begged to be contributed to, and ripe with contributors… X-8 and Tory were in Low Budget, who made their Hollywood debut playing over the Dils at the Whisky, Larry Lash was in a weird Quick sort of band, Pooch was in a progressive (!) band, and I was their friend, couldn’t play anything, but still wanted to be involved [Al Flipside].”Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine Issue #1 August 28, 1977.
I am not a musician. Sure, as a kid I played my parents old player piano. I could hear a song and I then played it on that old lovely musical hardwood black upright piano. My mom got me an acoustic guitar when I turned 16. Along with it was a record to learn chords. I did not follow it through.
I appreciate the lyrics and the sound. I have a knack for listening to the song in a way that is so satisfying to me and as my life went on, I found others like myself. Journalists, fanzine writers and ‘scenesters’ who supported a growing musical world. I will leave the real musicians and their creative genius to themselves. I sure love to hear and feel their songs though.
My dream last night took me to a multilevel club. It had a front door and back door; it had a bar and an outdoor patio. It was very easy to access. I had booked a one-day event to perform. I had my old guitar with me at all times. A guitar a band member gave me, and we had cut out the “Quaker Maid” milk symbol from a large ‘sheet metal sign’ to place on the front of my guitar.
Why I pulled that old guitar I had from the 80s into my dream seems strange to me. I also had my old fender amp.
There was a small stage in the bar where I practiced. Realizing I did not have a clue what I was doing. Yet when I touched my sweet maid, it made a loud punk sound. I thought this to myself while dreaming,
“I am going to go on stage here and play for my friends. Not having a clue what I am doing, I will just improvise … like I always do,”
The first person who greeted me at the door was Shawn Stern. He was drinking a beer and seemed very happy. Then as I walked through the club. The club was peppered with many characters, and I thought to myself,
“I will play a chord from my sweet maid and then read something from an editorial from an old issue of Flipside. Maybe this can be a spoken word event with improvised guitar sounds?”
Outside on the patio I sat with a couple of gals who were talking about another show. I was cool with that and then walked in Cliff Roman.
“The guys at that show were wearing TUXEDOS.”
He had a upside down smile on his face when I smiled at him as I was holding my sweet maid. Cliff was wearing all black with a big oomphy black sweater.
I realized I was at a club without my mask on. It felt so good to be out and about again. No fear and happy to be hanging out at a club again with others.
Then I awoke. I don’t go out to events now. It seems like I still do in my dreams…
This is my winter solstice poem for 2021
There is something
Real and magical
Between a breeze
And the top of a
Pool of water
An in between language
A pattern of symbols
Mandalas, ancient texts
It gets talking so fast
I don’t understand it all.
Then Silence as is now.
A rich diplomatic dialogue
Old time ancient rhymes.
Spirit moved across the face of the waters still…
How it moves upon the face of my waters
Breathe it in …
A constant story
For us all
Inspiring life to unfold …
An in-between place
I wait for the elves …
The Fay move …
stretch and turn.
Today I was looking at all the bullies in my life.
On Facebook I noticed a friend put up a thought. When she was young, she thought she was ugly. Now much older she realizes how lovely she really was. I am glad she found this out about herself.
I hang fabric up to cover half of my windows. I do this to enjoy the shadow and light on the fabric. When the window is open the fabric moves and I often see the texture and fun pattern within the fabric. As one lives a long life one can begin to see shadows, light, texture, and the pattern of one’s life. This is a wonderful ability I have acquired in my life. My insight is reflection the ability to see my life as a pattern with texture and light and shadows.
Elementary school there were two major bullies. Both I followed through what we called Jr. High and then High School. Lisa and Lori were the worst of the worst. They were pretty, popular, and mean to all those who were not part of their click, I always let their image of me influence my self-worth.
Now I know that it was not about me but about them. I do not believe them anymore.
Also, when I had my white mustang Sony, I found instead of everyone enjoying my bliss and best friend. Jealousy took hold and nasty gossip formed. The boy next door started the lies, and this gossip ran its course throughout Jr. High and High School. I cannot even imagine how pungently immoral the gossip was. The collective shadow of peers is a grandiose thing to have to deal with.
Now as a crone an older woman I can look back with a type of disconnection. I like myself now more than I ever have. These new positive feeling shine out and my libido is renewed with hope and creativity. Those old ways burn down and fly away into the underworld of no more.
Like ground up coffee grounds. Fragrant, recyclable and transformed. Soul soil for new possibilities.
The Green Sweater
Living on the east coast in Rochester New York as a Home Health Aide was challenging work. I went into strange homes with new family customs that I had to learn and respect. I experienced diversity and listened to the stories of mostly older patients.
The family owned a Chinese restaurant. During the afternoon while the family was working, I took care of the matriarch. A mother who had a stroke. I did all I could to make her life as comfortable as I was trained to do. I collaborated with the nurses and physical therapist that visited once a week.
This lady was a rock on what she wanted. She would often hit me. I would let her know that was not appropriate. We would battle it out sometimes. Yet overall, I knew she liked me. I enjoyed her company too.
Her sons brought me a meal from their restaurant for lunch every day. I love Chinese food, so it was an incredibly special treat. Sweet and Sour Pork, lots of greens and noodles.
I was not use to the freezing weather and snow. Living on the west coast my whole life I found driving on black ice especially scary while driving to the home of this family who lived out in the country.
As the patient got better, she no longer needed my service. The day I left this strong woman gave me a gift. She would not take no for an answer and gave me a lovely Asian green sweater with lovely buttons. They were round and covered with a type of enamel with little designs.
I loved it and so when I traveled back home to California it was one of my prized possessions.
I ended up in Santa Cruz California. One night while I went out with my man, I had one too many Grease lightnings. The bartenders at the Poet and Patriate Pub were supplying us with many a pint. Bob and Zachery combined Amestein Lager with Guinness. We coined it “Grease lightning” because once served you had to power it down.
A big biker dude came up to my man and asked,
“Hey John why do you two power down your brews?”
John just smiled and then we walked over to play some darts.
On one of our many adventures playing darts with the local community of poets and patriots, or a few pirates, I got suckered into a conversation with an incredibly sad lady. She was cold on St Paddy’s Day and was not wearing green. I was wearing my green sweater, with green shirt and green shoes. I had plenty of green on. So, I said she could wear it a little while to warm up. The night went on and as I left to the lady’s room when I came back, she was gone and so was my lovely green sweater. I even told her my green sweater story story.
As we left that night to walk home, I heard one last song playing from the pub. One of my favorite Irish tunes. So, I danced the jig in the parking lot next to the pub. Then out of nowhere I swear a large Leprechaun danced awhile with me. We laughed and danced.
Around 1991 John and I sure did have some good nights at that local Pub in Santa Cruz. Wherever the green sweater is I hope whom ever has it is enjoying it’s beauty and warmth.
1978- Los Angeles Flipside # 10 Photo Al Flipside.
“When you’ve jumped the fence into the bath
we will understand if you have the last laugh.
Just as things seem as they were before,
down with the field up with the air conditioner.”
~GBH Forbidden Zone.
“A flash of lightning. Dionysus becomes visible in emerald beauty.”
~ Pg. 65 Dithyrambs of Dionysus / Friedrich Nietzsche
No longer a forbidden zone, it once was a dark night when the rains came with lightning and took our Football kitty away from us. Was it the hole in the fence and the neighbor’s German Shepherd? Was it the nasty drug dealer now gone due to the dumb bloke being taken away by the police? Or was it an alien mutation … it sure looked like one. If you do not know what I mean look it up? Finally, it could have been the other side fence that is also now new. It was replaced a couple of years ago. A jump over by local twister trickster coyote? Coyote told me this,
“Nope not me.”
What was once a forbidden zone is not forbidden anymore.
This autumn has its forbidden zones. I must be honest my once explored forbidden zones have become zones of good fruits of wonder.
I am turned on because a hearty harvest has come in. It feels good. Here are some projects I’ve been part of. Here is the harvest…
Where The Wild Gigs Were –~ Tim Hinely & Friends, HoZac Books.
Shipping Now: WHERE THE WILD GIGS WERE – A Trip Thru America’s Underground Music Venues BOOK by Tim Hinely & Friends
New Wave Chicken, Steve Hart, Art Issue, Fluke Publishing,
FORBIDDEN BEATS S.W. Lauden, out on Rare Bird Books.
I must say the “wheeling and dealing” is fun and sometimes hope filled activating. A learning experience. Contributing in a new way I am like our new red western cedar dog ear fence.
I am shining from the inside out.
The back door man is not someone I deal with … it is all up and up now.
It is amazing when a major film company takes the time to mail you an original designed t-shirt. It feels nice to be valued and treated with respect.
So, the new fence got some dirt, mulch and a couple of lavender plants.
Universal Pictures Feature Production, Universal Pictures is in production on a theatrical horror motion picture by Jordan Peele (Get Out, Us). NOPE
Tito Larriva Los Plugs. Oct/8/2021 Origin ID-AHCA Alex Bovaird t-shirt.
The autumnal equinox is tonight.
I feel like I cleaned some stuff up.
Today I hear ringing in my ears.
I don’t mind much. I feel something in the air.
I think through generations of life lived.
I opened my art closet.
I let it air out.
The cats are curious right away.
Me I am not so curious.
So much time, creativity,
and options of delight, yet not today.
I feel like it needs to be a rainy day.
Every item in my art closet has a story.
A magic place that turns my imagination into projects.
I sit waiting for I don’t know what…
I dance with Innocuous Surreal-intrinsic. Deluding its hand around my waste and my throat. The magical things of science the vaccines protect me now. I am grateful.
One of the three sister goddesses known as the three Graces who are the givers of charm and beauty in Greek mythology…. I call upon her now…. we need real beauty….,
You may think the story I am about to tell you is a bizarre story, but it is real, we are living it… yes now… it is redundant.
I have foresight. It means I can see things. The Covid-19 and all variants are not what you may think. It lives and expands through our bodies. Spreading from human to human …
If you could see it like I can, I encourage you to change your mind about things. If you are playing it safe, you will understand that what you are doing is for the common good of all human beings.
From another realm the Covid-19 virus is like a vast spider’s web. It takes and expands. It goes around and around. Humans are just a source of temporary expanding blissful glory of this multidimensional expanding life force.
It hovers and attacks those who are unaware and stupid. It can read minds and goes after those who play this death game. Some humans are in on it. They think they have control, and they want other people to die. It is a form of mass hysteria of denial that the virus picks up on. It is not stupid. It wants to survive. Until the very end.
I can see it. My foresight tells me to tell people to beware, be careful… yet they play a lost game of denial, ignorance, and defiance. They tease it. This only makes it hungrier. The common good of humanity is not their concern.
I wait and watch from my cave. Deep grieving I feel. I see it all from my electrical fire. I see the variant spreading. A dancing organismic virus web going around and around… and every time I see it from a distance, it sees me very aware.
I give it the finger because mine is clean and washed, my mask is on and I social distance. That is the one thing this creepy multidimensional monster hates.
I hope you know what this vast nympho wants… close together people, human beings who sweat on each other, jumping up and down against each other. It is a nightmare, Surreal-intrinsic… and all I can do is watch from a distance. Innocuous in my cave around the electrical fire, for now… what a real sickness I see… and now It has me.
From my garden
A Summer Poem
By Hudley Flipside : An Underground Bard
So much given to us for free
All of creation
Watch the flowers open up
To share nectar to the bees, butterflies, bumblebees
The hungry hummingbirds.
In return pollination.
A free giving cycle…
We humans are as flowers,
We can open our psyches
Give out our creative soul nectar
Out into the world
And in return get pollinated
There are the invisible makings of nature
As there are the invisible happenings in a human being…
How accidentally nature shows us this beauty
From our living gardens.
We look out and there it is
Sharing, sharing, and giving
Life vast and beyond.
Following the motif of
The simple flower.
Clouds that hold moister
Then rains upon the earth
A summer overcast day
That cools the dry dirt.
The open window that shares
This active beauty from tall trees overhead
And above me.
A song that inspires us to be
Loving and understanding
The beauty of a flower and a bee.