THE FOLLOWING BOOKS
WERE PUBLISHED WITH
WORK OFF OF THIS BLOG!!!!



FOR MORE INFO ON HAPPY HOUR
AND HOW TO ORDER, CLICK HERE:

http://lokidesign.net/2356/2010/11/four-minutes-to-midnight-issue-eleven%E2%80%94happy-hour/

"To tell you the truth, I'm pretty burned out
on meat poetry or street poetry or poetry of
the down-and-out, whatever you want to call
it, because so much of it is bullshit; either bogus
motherfuckers who never shed blood but
insinuate themselves into the lives of those
who have and then make a name for themselves
by writing generic imitations, or a bunch of
middle-class kids still living at home talking
tough, aping Bukowski, Wantling, levy, Micheline...
but HAPPY HOUR is the real thing. Stark precision.
It's stripped down, bare bones authentic.
You be the real McCoy, amigo..."
-John Bennett


A new EBOOK!
FREE DOWNLOAD!
CLICK HERE FOR MORE INFO:
http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/pesticide-drift/9128215


DRINKING & THINKING
FROM BLUE PRESS,
SANTA CRUZ, CA. 2010
"For a while, now, outside of
what you/ve been doing
outside Klamath Falls and what
Todd Moore was doing outside
Albuquerque, not much
integrity married to the inside
dope of the poetic imagination
as far as my jaded view
has been concerned."
-Michael C. Ford


SOMEONE WHO LOVED YOU
From 48th Street Press,
Philadelphia, PA. 2010
"SOMEONE WHO LOVED YOU
is simply a great piece of work."
-GERALD NICOSIA


TASTE THE
From If Year Books,
Brooklyn, N.Y. 2009
"A cool little scrabble of
fugitive pieces, some
handwritten, some paste-
ups, all laid in like a scrapbook
miscellany with mean teeth."
-Kevin Opstedal, Ukulele Feedback


DON'T SAY A WORD
From Blue Press,
Santa Cruz, CA. 2008
"F. A. Nettelbeck isn't
fucking around."
-Patrick Dunagan,
galatea resurrects #9




Signed copies are $10 each,
plus $2 postage and handling...
checks payable to F. A. Nettelbeck,
POB 69, Beatty, OR 97621 U.S.A.
__________________________________




9/30/07




OR
BOMB
I RAN
OR
BOMB I RAN
WITH THE BOMB
OR
I RAN WITH THE BOMB
BOMB I RAN
OR
WITH THE BOMB
I RAN
OR
WITH THE BOMB
I RAN WITH
OR
BOMB I RAN
WITH THE

BOMB







The Black Rimbaud

I pulled you up
by both your
shoulders in
your green
army coat

straightened
you out and
guided you to
the stage

you weren't
even that
fucked
up

the 5th Annual
Santa Cruz Poetry
Festival

I was a promoter

you never said
a word to me

went on stage and
mumbled mumbled
mumbled

rhythmic like music
like the thread of
speech imploding
on mute

some local bitch
poet came up and
personally closed
the curtain on
your somber
litany

you who only
walked on that
one side of
the street

who was short
changed

who stood alone
in the
ancient rain

the cocksuckers

I had you in my
arms and guided
you back off

they booed you

9/29/07


gggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
Saddam Hussein never bowed his head, until his neck snapped.
gggggggggggggggggggggggggggg

9/28/07




This ought never to have happened.

I had to eat the entrails of my remark.

She rolled her eyes and gave me that look.

That was no news.

All of their good intentions were forgotten now.

His eyes scanned the cheap print.

I waited for a while.




9/27/07

LOVE POEM FOR GREG EVASON

dead man walking
alive man walking
Christopher Walken

in the mood for a shape
shifting sunburn
on all of your different
faces

because these who we
write the words down
for as front runners

ain't that interested
and that is hunky-
dory with me

my full blessings

without any hatred

in the palms of our
hands

where the sun don't
shine

it's on your shoulders

but not really

sometimes you eat
the pussy and
sometimes the
pussy eats you
A small cluster of curious bystanders hovered on the
sidewalk.

9/26/07

SCHOOL(art class)

saw the books







saw the books



I seen the books

9/25/07

BLUE METAL FLAKE SMEAR

lowriders

she lay passed out on the hood of the
63' Continental

nobody knowing she was really
that bored
first joints reds and Seagrams

Sunset Boulevard
with her scent on my
hands

with the night on her hands

not one hip sentence yet to come
ribbon the
houses empty of a living thing

but who really gave a fuck

those vintage Sky Saxon skies
filled up real quick with letters

then flames


9/23/07

ALREADY DEAD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

miss thing dampered
as illusion my kisses on
your corpse my little
one mundane
you
you in my night
the worst part
because I did'nt say
that I am best
when the
needle does the
talking
shot up a 20 sack of
minutes and
came in my pants that's
two more years inside
you think I still walk
talk
I
spin the
broken globes

9/21/07

Another Morning And No One Is Rioting In The Streets

shaking off the remnants
of a brokered dream
to get a visual of the lies

it takes waking up in
the greatest country

9/20/07

NO FUTURE IN THE FUTURE

"Sir, have you been drinking this evening?"

TECHNICIANS OF THE TRANSGRESSIVE

going down to the doings





to cop a rig

DON'T BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT JUST YET

there's still a chance

you
might
get

cancer

9/19/07

PORN GUN
NN
GUN PORN PORN GUN
IRAQ GUN GUN IRAQ
PORN PORNNN
GUN PORN PORN GUN
IRAQ GUN GUN IRAQ
PORN PORNNN
GUN PORN PORN GUN
IRAQ GUN
PORNNN
GUN PORN
IRAQ GUN
PORN
NN
GUN IRAQ
The woman thought it was a neighbor and opened the door.



Not moral; not colored; hard ("not soft") she fingered both my nether or sections; a tooth with two fangs or points; every two years; hands as I watched the top of my circulation ("not published"); a pain-reliever ("not pain"); her saliva and the velvety caresses of parts; having two folding "doors", like an oyster staff with the delicious warmth of ("not knowing"); eternal ("not withering"); softly against the veined flesh as together with another, and a colloquy is the conversation from the woman's mouth with a pop, falling opposed to obedience to the moral law. Antipathy is feeling while keeping her grip on the oozing ease germs, non-putrefying ("not rot"); without sex at once on the slippery organ and to humble pride, or to write from dictation; to mistake; to the tender skin of my balls while "possessing a common axis together". Cognate, related, below. I stuck a finger up her rectum, without impregnation ("not married"); doubtful and continued to suck me off; two-tongued (speaking two languages); the use of two contracted around my digits. In return, mimic or to leave; to undertake, or to assume violent grief; she began to use her tongue, suffocation ("not pulse"); having a defect between my widespread legs, taking my blood; making insensible of pain ("not perceive"); absence protested as a drop of white cum from a government ("not remember"); bloodlessness of guiding it past her smooth soft lips against poison.
g g g g g g g g g g g g g g g g g g g g


"Have a bit of my luck," I said.

9/18/07

Incantation

I love you I drug you these words you can keep
the names of the poets you can keep

this poem is identified with you

so that it becomes you

this poem may be marked with your name
to aid in the identification
of word addicts and
others unrestrained
for mine is the ecstasy of the vowels

the secret door which will always open
upon the syllables that are fast
becoming your face

don't you love me now

when the poem is inside you

9/17/07

LANGUAGE NEST

Endless morphings
Tested by doubt
Is argumentation
In the first place

9/16/07

Second Coming

america eat my shit I am
one of your
poets this would
be funny except
in the world of the ha ha
afterwork crotch suck
you need to
thank me I validate you
I am here
cocksuckers and I'm
pissed off fuck Chas.
Bukowski and fuck
you between your
stinking
lips you
visual concrete
assholes who think
you're doing the
world a favor
you are too special
to put out the flames
fuck you jerks
in college
academically
speaking I'd rather
get drunk with a rock
but yeah
you thinking
me the fool
writing me off
what you looking at
this is only a poem
how it's written
when the time is
right

9/15/07

REDUX

sweet sweet Kenton lost at LAX needle in arm truck running my brother I remember you on reds fucking pissed you fucked up your sister my girlfriend so so like all those days at 58th and Slauson I told you fucking leave her alone but that was youth man I LOVED YOUR SISTER you fucking prick you knew that so fuck it all that violence is better than sex so so sex is violence but with brothers that is weird shit man the stories I could tell on you how you ripped off that Chinese joint in Redondo Beach you on the phone "you fuckers hungry?" we ate and the pills somehow making it fuck we made it FUCK YOU SQUARES this was a man remember pulled over by the helicopter wait here for a unit bright light artificial light named after Stan Kenton what's the chance that nigger shot you in the back over dope a .22 and deep there in your spine they didn't want to remove it so you go to Stanley's one hill over from the Spahn Ranch catch a rattler and back in Inglewood throw it in that nigger's car after cutting off the rattle sirens in that science fiction morning hey fucks you relatives you who live on ___________ wanna talk shit fuck you bright white motherfucker offed your punk black assed fool but that's history we live we die and death not ends it sentences are there to be read for Kenton all these years later

9/14/07

THINKING OF TAKING A VICODIN WHILE THINKING OF LOS ANGELES

oblique and concerened like Art Blakey once told me take a high herbal enema relax man but of course untrained eye lazy eye wandering eye "what is there to see" back in Los Angeles the concrete spoke it's no time to quit as smoky riot skys broke up the prayers of the boy scouts of american phone booth BONG those coins were special then as the squeaky pussy of eyes closed the slight none event of you're gonna make it make what? I fucked that one up cuz here I am tv on wine in glass like Jack Micheline once told my grandma there ain't no wheel of fortune like ever sat at a bar in Los Angeles all dark and safe just digging the drinks thinking up the words and some asshole comes up and asks is this stool taken you gonna use that word hey hey man listen you heard this one? that's life always drawn and then bothered I stood in the shadows consuming the energy of them or us blistering disregard of the disregard of the blisters hey fuck listen listen man heard this one ? I'll steal your points motherfucker that's what I thought you know the game I'm not like you lover she said god damn little sister like Jim Carroll once told me how'd you get in the back here I can still see those brown thighs swoop on the juke

9/13/07

Of Being Too Numerous

to George

Singular, bewildered


Obsessed by the shipwreck

Of celebrity


We have yet to understand the

Meaning of being too numerous

9/12/07

the ambiance of an ambulance

sah ah c k ed from unintelligible whimpers to the throaty moans
ccaacc k ed
mostly my love
for
you
Tongue and nipple pulling Tobacco smoke enemas Insertion of hot pokers into various bodily orifices



"I just wanted to take her beauty away"

A blast of gunfire exploded. The slug caught the officer full in the belly
and the impact spun him to the ground.

PART 1: A high-fidelity recording machine blared forth the
gloomy strains of a woodwind melody.



Then he volunteered a statement which shocked most of the poets in
the room. "The bloated and morbidly obese will consume what is left
of your face."




But, hey, if they had masks on, you couldn't see
their beautiful faces.





These processes take time.





9/11/07

DONE WITH WINDOWS

suppose your life meant nothing to your fellow citizens
the bloated and morbidly obese
as you wait behind them as the flames of time
consume what is left of your face
you will get your pain relievers
you will get your meds sniffing the flowers while medicated
and alone but there is a price
you must continually watch the images of those dressed
appropriately jumping out of the windows
you could never have even cleaned if you
wanted to what is there to see what is there to
say always looking through the glass of imagination
walking boulevards of the poems of undistinguished
pleasure I don't care about your family you don't care
about mine and I will hardly remember you

9/10/07

Drinker's Tear

The sun will come out.

The temperature will rise.

There is no difference.

Nothing can move faster than the speed of light.

Not all birds can fly.

The rose developed thorns for protection.

A body at rest tends to remain at rest.

All life arose from a single-celled ancestor.

There will be a storm.

It will be windy.

9/9/07

"loan me a panda"

so went to see
the polar
bear
(she's dead

SO DO MY

soldered drizzle deep mask repression I opine

in conclusion in apeshit pinafores slumber

and mumbling for granted of the

double suck

9/7/07

still, life

9/6/07

It Was An Old Story

Her crotch held
the pungent
aroma of a freshly
opened can
of latex wall paint.

9/5/07

LIFE ON EARTH

simpler and more
dangerous than
god

muted and mutating
a wisp
of

what you are
is not saving life
on earth

because people are
afraid to die

the permanent
mystery is
consciousness

9/4/07

POEM FOR MARTA ON HER BIRTHDAY But She's Dead

peeping thru your skull
the sunlight
knowing what it held

9/3/07

VENTRILOQUISM AND SUB-VOCAL SPEECH

I hear voices repeat the words loop of lips lost in thought repeat after me


mommy mommy loop the word
how you say
my lips on your back, digraph

spoken

wordy discourse."




so my hand in your cavity
no precise antonym, There is no antonym

who you talking me?




voices the voices is there one of the words which implies annoyance on the part of the speaker


waiting to hear
and can't
move
my lips?

repeat thought in lost lips of loop mommy I'm scared."

9/2/07

Midnight In Haditha

fading fast now in my bunk staring
at the ceiling
wiped clean and that ain't
dreams

I want my fucking country back

spliced with space and time
for you tonight
the world over always know your
target and what's
behind
it

my little good luck charm

kick in any door

that's easy for you to say

get down hands up and fully
cooperate I make mistakes all
the time the wet hair the blank eyes

call the number on your screen

my hero you're my hero
you're the one that I want
eliminating a threat engaging targets

full moon give us a call I want an
explanation

I lay eyes on someone with a weapon

a lot of good stuff the frosting on the
cake all the things that could go wrong
fade back into the shadows

in the distance muzzle flashes

now the eclipse

"You'll always go to sleep more times than you'll awake" -Larry Eigner

fading fast now red sails in the
sunset
lifting old faces from the floor

lifting sleep from mattresses
covered in patches of DNA
I

want an explanation
I

want a refund

take me home take me to your
leader

and to be blunt