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.
__________________________________




9/29/08

BODY OF WORK

if only words could
kill then I would
spell out the names
of the lost in one
last poem

9/26/08

America Votes And Goes Home

"the ATMs don't
frickin work
girlfriend"

9/22/08

ENOUGH

it's this time of night that I come
home buzzed from the lot I own on
the side of the road that I call a flea
market where I spread out all the
broken shit that most nobody wants
but some do and I make enough for
a six-pack or gas or some pop for
my kids and a lot of the fuckers say
I'm a veteran I'm fucked-up
my legs go numb I'm hurting
you got any whiskey or these tired
women beaten by family and life the
assholes who call themselves men
I'm sorry but I can't keep from
crying I got nowhere to go would
you take 50 cents or all the others
who ask hey you got some hits or a beer
I need a line I just want to sit here and
get fucked up until the pain goes away
or the tears can I camp here tonight
can you give me this coffee maker I'll
pay you on the first man but that day
never comes so that's why I hate
this country

9/18/08

so scared and alone no future for
the future you've put your faith
in lovers or tormentors)





EVIL TINES




Grief-stricken, the old man put his head
in his hands and moaned.




The last class will be over.

The last textbook will be closed.



______________________
With bible, notes and poetry
Nettelbeck came to talk to
lawyer and newsmen.



"we invite you to measure every
destination by how deeply it moves
you"



9/14/08

BRIGHT SIDE TO EVERYTHING

Like a rubber full of smiling faces

on a beach with no name twelve

blocks down from an abandoned

warehouse where pincushions of

meat still discuss the relevance

of a big toe.

9/12/08

Cash Game

for Morg

I had 6 t0 7 grand in a
jar when I was selling
chronic to hillbillies and
Indians but I gave up
half when the man came
around every two weeks
to collect and that put it
all into perspective I was
still in the bucks but not
writing the poems so the
shotgun aside I took what
I wanted and told them
all to get fucked

IT FEELS LIKE FREE FALL

a propaganda matrix)

(my dry rotted safety net

9/11/08

REVELATIONS 9:11

spoon-fed newscasts)

(your neocon kicks

9/7/08

Just Like The Movies

for Michael C. Ford

a Rory Calhoun
look-alike is ravishing
in boho chic
when the
scarcest of gauchos
wearing
rubber masks of
retrospect
kick his impenetrable
ass between
the porticoes of
infinite space
just like the movies

9/6/08



;;;;;;;;;;;;;WHY;
;;;;;;;;;;;;;NOT;
;;;;;;;;;;;;;YOU;


9/4/08

CULTURE OF BULLSHIT

the teleprompter speaks for
a tortured puppet who has
no idea how many homes
he owns but has designed
a strategy to fight against you
the homeless the buttfuckers
the pregnant the atheists the
starving the dopers and drunks
the cripples who always look
down anyway away from a
luxury those who have it all
could never have achieved but by
facing the real test the work the
faith the service a complete
culture of bullshit designed to
make it all feel better when
they're kicking you telling you
to stand up stand up stand up
nothing is inevitable here

The Songs Of Coyotes

I walked in the streets of night
so no one could see my face
-Jack Micheline


Your crosshairs are now
where your bullet is
hitting.

9/2/08

MORE DEATH BLUES

for the continental OP

death wants more wine not
more death that prick already
took three of my sweet bitches
but I'm still here they're still
here so with no street corner
available I scratch a watch crystal
deep with my initials during one
long hydroxed breath at a redundant
crossroads like I'm supposed to
be scared of wearing blackface
shit I ain't got any whiteface left