Kicked Out



My compadres lead me

out of the mission

barely can I move

tightly wrapped-up in my bed sheets


Outside the front door

they let go of me

I stumble

step forward into a new day


One of them laughs

& says

“good luck

   old mummy!”



I bumble onward

hardly able to breathe

I gasp


For my head too

is wrapped up


but without complaint


Thru the desert town

of Yuma, Arizona


I wander wander


People look at me


Cars slow down, stop

they let me pass


And I

in a muffled voice


to all


“No problem!  I shall

mellow-inate & glow-ify

all these creatures of darkness

by the astral brightness of my starry nature!”


(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)



Pulaski at The Mission



With a bad knee

Pulaski holed-up

at the mission

as the full-time janitor


When I came thru with

my bedroll

he advised me where

I should not lay it down outside


Not because of



because of cops


So I stayed





Pulaski trained me

to be

the mission’s next full-time janitor

but it never happened


After he left to

camp on the river

I ended-up a janitor

only on the weekends


I blog now

on public-library computers

on week days except Monday when

the library is closed


I remember Pulaski

bringing me coffee in the early morning when

on the chapel floor

I was barely awake




have to

do that


But I’m



 he did.


(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)


A Nice Social-Security Landing

The American taxpayer has bailed-out Wall Street & big banks ~ and now is the time for Wall Street & big banks to bail-out our government ~ because the filthy rich, addicted to wealth worse than the worse doper lying on his face in the gutter is addicted to heroin ~ have all the money.  And we bail-out our government by raising the taxes of the filthy and only the filthy rich.  And we do this by keeping the Obamasiah in the White House.

As the argument advances, we find ourselves obstructed by obstructionists who claim that, yes, but, but the extremely wealthy make your jobs.  But these elitist culprits have not been doing that at all.  They’ve been sending jobs overseas where the pay is bottom-of-the-abyss low.  They’ve been hoarding profits.  And they’ve been getting filthier, immorally, fat-cat rolling around in its own shit rich.  These people are disgusting.

I want a government for the people.  We can have a government for the people.  We don’t want a government owned by the rich.  We want a government that taxes the rich & that is for the people ~ so that we can, for example, make our own jobs & live with a reasonable degree of dignity.  Also, who wants to be constantly enslaved for pennies to a fat-cat just to make him fatter?  There’s no logic, no satisfaction, no morality in a blind work ethic such as that.  Our freedom demands that we, the people, own the government ~ and we do this by voting, maintaining vigilance, voting again ~ and keeping our beloved Obamasiah in the White House to check & balance the rich man’s folly ~ which is the Republican Obstructionist Party.  We have to teach them common sense or get them out of the House of Representatives ~ where this gang of obstructionists have been blocking job bills for middle and working class Americans & not allowing the filthiest of the polluted rich to be taxed like they so richly deserve to be taxed ~ so that we can have in our old age:

Social Security.

Ah yes, all’s well that ends well ~ with social security ~ a few pennies more with which to lower ourselves into the grave gently.  May the few years that remain for American old folks belong to them via social security ~ so that they don’t have to work ’til they die as perpetual slaves to the immorally wealthy.

Yours truly

Elfego Baca Reincarnated

Vote 2012


Go ahead, take a look at Senor Baca’s earlier political commentary:





I awake homeless

in the shadows of the night

lying on a top bunk in the corner

   of a dormitory full of snoring hacking men…


A beaurucrat has explained to me that

eight & a half months from now

I can start getting social security

   I’ll be 62 years old & hopefully still free…


An ancient Egyptian entity

breaks through, informs me

that I’m really lying on a small raft

   floating on the celestial Nile…


   Heading for the grand horizon of heaven…


(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)



Oh no, another one dead & gone…



I, the ghost, glided outta there

hoovered by the hotel for a while


’til I noticed across the street

that the sheriff had hung another old girl-friend o’ mine

   from the hanging tree in front of his office…


I had asked him to stop doing that

but he’d done it again anyway

the corpse’s tattered dress

baring one smooth shoulder & her thighs

flapped like a flag

and the branch creaked like a harmonica

   as the sun sank behind a weathered building…


I found him locked inside a jail cell

contemplating his cowardism above a candle flame

“why’d you do that?” I howled

“She ruined your life,” retorted the sheriff

I shook miserably in the shadows of his office

emotionally wiped out I sat on the corner of his atilt desk

& moaned

   “She’s a dream that’ll never die.”


(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)



Another High Noon (#4)



I could not fathom, I did not understand

how a gun turned into a joint in the old fat man’s hand

his cowboy hat was crooked, his leg was lame

   his “I hate Obama” sign was a dirty rotten shame…


His partners also aimed & fired at The Occupiers

who rejoiced with rhapsody to see

in each Tea Party man’s hand a lit doobie ready to toke

   & a bunch of pistolas that were now a splatter like egg yoke…


I could not fathom, I did not see

how any of this could be

then I spun around & gawked at Mary

she was laughing somewhat heartily!


And the barmaid explained:


“Poor Rawclyde

you’re such a perplexed ghost

I prayed for harmony

  & my famous Son answered me!”


(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)


Differences & similarities ‘tween the Tea Party and the Occupiers of Wall Street:


Another High Noon (#3)


As I recall it wasn’t the mall

t’was a ghost town half fallen down

Tea Partiers’ guns burnished, unholstered

   Occupiers in panic tore into the floor, dug into the ground…



And then I saw ~ I swear its true

a chariot flew by, stormy sky flip-flopped blue

A Tea Party bro aimed & shot

but flower petals was all the cah-boom brought

and the gun in his hand

tooled in Woody Guthrie land

turned kind of gooey like snot

from gun metal gray to a kind of yellow

& the Tea Party fellow turned kinda mellow

‘cuz all that was left in his hand

yes, this is your land

was a gun splattered like egg yoke

around a joint lit-up & ready to toke

t’was drama by God glorious & grand!



In the haunted saloon with half a roof

a miracle had occurred ’bout 90 proof

something like this, they explain, cannot happen

except in a ghost town called Love…


(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)