Clay and Main

"Prayer of Protection" - Artwork by Milagros Palmieri

http://fineartamerica.com/featured/prayer-of-protection-milagros-palmieri.html

Clay and Main

I want to write a new testament of changes made in your name

About the new life I live and about the God I dance with

I feel like a child, so full of life...animated and free

You answer every prayer, and for that I am grateful

Every day I pray to you passing the corner of Clay and Main

I meditate going Sunday driving speeds as cars pass me by

I cannot get past that street unless I lift my voice and praise your love for me

I ask and receive blessings, and it never is forgotten

Even though my friends doubt you exist

And these words may cause discomfort for some

I proclaim my faith not as an affront to shame or disclaim

Your beliefs, but I am simply expounding upon what drives me

Past those streets every day...

It is what gives me the courage to speak

And go beyond what any doctor or shrink has done for me

And so I plead do not turn away in hatred, my brothers and sisters

Though I walk the path of Christ I hear your doubts and I hear them well

I am not here to place judgment upon you or convert you to my side

I am simply sharing a part of who I am, which has given me new life

I trust that you will know that I speak out of love when I say

That I have no intention of changing you, and in fact I never could

But God bides his time and his path is there for you to decide

And if you deny that it exists, I’ll love and accept you regardless, but please know this

Respect my sensibility and the reality of my deepest relationship

I am closer to him than two lovers intertwined

When your words cast him aside, you cast me aside, and it hurts

I love you my atheist brothers and sisters, and I wouldn't change you for the world

Everyone finds their own path in the end, we will all meet at death’s door in due time

Regardless of what we believe...I know this…that we should all live as one and coexist

Otherwise we will give into petty differences, and what we all need is love

So I will continue to pray when I pass the corner of Clay and Main

I will continue speaking to the one who hears my every thought and who knows my name

You will go on in this world singularly as one individual on your own

But this I do know, we will never truly ever be alone

Love is the great uniter when passion’s heat divides

And perhaps we shall all in the end meet, by and by...

Copyright Adam Gaile 2013

Murderville

Murderville

In the streets of murderville there lies the bones of manifest destiny

Willowing and decaying away in the hot dry Montana sun

There in those streets children run with spray paint and guns

With tattooed faces telling stories of hatred and bitterness

Rival gangs fall as corruption overtakes them

In an array of splattered blood and pools expanding on concrete

A century ago their wild horses trod across dusty plains

Canyons spreading wide like the mouths of orphaned children

Now living off of ramen noodles and broken promises

Where our ancestors primordial birth of pure humanity praised the sun and the mountains...

The sky, the eagle, the bear, the buffalo, and holy waters 

A sage sacrifice naming those who would come after them...

Inheritors of a land that was long ago stolen...

We decimated their people...their land and their culture

Replaced it with Pepsi ads and I-phones, plasma screens, and highways

They were here a millennium before the white man came to rape their daughters and impale their sons

Upon flagstaffs of red, white, and blue...and pride, and greed, and now forgetfulness

We have executed innocent lives in the form of politics of expansion

I am not a nay-sayer nor am I a traitor for pointing out the realities of a history of murder

I speak as a purveyor of truth, and what was done to those innocent brown-skinned souls

Will continue in our own backyards, our own streets, our own schools, our own churches...

If we continue to feed voting machines designed to deny us the same God-given rights of freedom and humanity.

And in the dawn when corrupt devils' reveal their disgusting rotten teeth

There will be an epiphany of revelations upon those desecrated

Truth of humanity will show it’s brazen bones as that of wild beasts

Attacking innocent lives that were created out of nature's awakening

We will pay the ransom held by their personage and their offspring forever-after

A reminder of the evil that dwells within men who praise progress and innovation

Over the purity of the human spirit

There will be a day soon to come…

Where we will all weep and mourn over those who were once called

Grandmother and Grandfather...Americans no more. 


Copyright Adam Gaile 2013

Tripping

Tripping

Experiencing the chemical fumes and vapor
Illustrious alimony
We serve cold spaghetti-o’s -outta the can - dinners
And Kool-Aid stained counter tops attracting banana flies
Oh the murk and mire of the hobble hotel
The filth, the fury...the ecstatic hum and vibration
Twisting me in place, stuck in the void...the hole
Reverberating skulls, and déjà vu anthems blasting away into the universe

Two packs of Camel crushes a day 

Check

Two to three cans of Monster 

Check

Scooby Snax, coke bottle murky tea, screens and lot’s of water

DOUBLE CHECK

We’re on a mission to experience glorious death awake in our bodies
Giving nutcracker statues names and talking to closet doors
Tripping...tripping...hoppity hop...tripping
...down the rabbit’s hole.


Copyright Adam Gaile 2013

Latch String

Latch String

I'm living in an un-free world...and nobody realizes it
Except for me
My heart longs and yearns for a cosmic cleansing of my spirit
A rapturous reprise from the stifling nature of man and his evil deeds
I want to ride waves of euphoria into worlds unseen...unheard of
I want to venture into sublime space between the seams
Where no light or darkness exists...just me...only me
The solipsist boy in his room watching cartoons on TV screens
Wondering if there are any people out there in the playground universe
Who can save me from the ravages of mankind 
And it's pure defiled raging bane under destructive fists
We are all alone...there is no one there to rescue us from ourselves
And darling, if I could I would hop into a Tardis and escape this banal existence
Because the sand box is full of broken glass
And there aren't enough Flintstone's Band-Aids to hide the cuts
From a lying father, and a mother who explodes ear drums
I was never meant to be in this world, and how selfish of me to compare
The pains of my past with the pasts of my dear friends...
We have all been there...every one of us latch string kids
Raising ourselves, because our parents were babies themselves
But it's okay, because we can escape this night my love
Just vertical slits, empty bottles, and bleach milkshakes
Take us away from this...
To real freedom...

Copyright Adam Gaile 2013

The Bean

The Bean

This is my tiny social world
Hanging from a tree...my world...my social bulb

The outside lights are turned off
Forgotten by the busy baristas
The only light shimmers from the rays
Of a purple and golden sky fading to blue and black
The stars are invisible in this city
But twilight twinkles...
In the form of tiny embers from lit cigarettes
Here they light up the street...my tiny social world.

The silence is broken by the tap tapping of fingers
And the beating thumps of bass
Made from the calloused palms of the djembe player
Sounds of acoustic guitars flailing and echoing
Off locked car doors and poster-covered windows
From the shop that sells sweet floral vapor 
Energy flows tweaking our pulsing veins with liquid caffeine 
If I close my eyes I'm in another world...
Morocco...or Sudan

Welcome to Indiana...to my clique, my group of peers
We are a cult of poverty and ego
A masquerade of pop culture references and subculture swagger
Bodies tired
Hands and feet sore from long hours of repetitive movements
From the routine capitalist paradox of freedom and imprisonment

Welcome to my world...my tiny social bubble

Welcome to the Wells street bridge
Where flip-floppin feet...flip rocks across a toxic river
Where 19th century women once swam in less revealing attire than men
The door swings open, and like any 19th century bar-room, all heads turn

The only shots served are dark brown stimulants
The roaring hurricane jet engine of the espresso machine
The chink and clink of ice cubes being smashed and scooped into cups
Bitterness and steam...
Frothy foam hiding the heat that lies below it
Burning soft eager lips

Heads bob to the beat
Sounds from beast paws, talons plucking strings...
Sirens wailing from their perch upon bar stools
Animistic energy...
The pure essence of youth in revolt
Forming revolutions with every out-of-tuned note

Welcome to my safe tiny social space

Where poets speak with both frailty and bravado 
Where masters and amateurs alike vie for a fifteen minute spotlight
A chance to perform for the disinterested crowd
Who's voices rise above that of the poet and that of the singer
Their words so intricate and benevolent...drowned
Both appraisal and tribute to the greats: 
Lennon, Mascius, Oberst, Dylan...

And as Hurdy Gurdy Man receives praise
From clapping hands, whistles, and a hoot n` hollerin 
From those disenchanted denizens...
One lone clapper ends the applause with one final clap of his calloused palms

I think to myself...it doesn't get any better than this

This is my tiny social world
It is all creeds, all races, and all genders
Where a cacophony of minds share compelling stories
Of real-life sorrows met with real-life integrity and real-life struggles

We meet in the dark alcove...
The scent of cologne and perfume mixing to form androgynous olfaction
The ensemble of artists, poets, and musician's assemble in the street
Story-teller's sharing real-life tales of affliction, homelessness, abuse, and depravity

Welcome to my tiny social world

We are children of a third world American nursery
An orchestra of hope and determination
There are millions of us on every corner
On every street
On every page of a beat poet's book
And in the sound of every drummer's beat

Our faces are soured by debt and grief
Yet the lemons we receive create the sweetest drinks
Our smiles, cheers, grins, and laughter
Expands this tiny social world 
Into a majestic place
It is here, and now is our time

And one day we'll look back to our names sketched on bathroom stalls
And see the same names engraved in stone on the columns of history's cathedrals 

And my friends...it all started here...in this place...The Bean.


Copyright Adam A. Gaile 2013

Adam's Roasted Pork-Heaven Sandwich

Adam's Roasted Pork-Heaven Sandwich 

1 Pork Loin

Brie Cheese (outer skin cut)

2 tbsp Jarred Mango Chutney

1/2 Red Onion

3 Slices thick Bacon

1/2 Granny Smith Apple (sliced thin)

4 Onion Rolls

1 tbsp Fresh Rosemary

1/4 cup Olive Oil

2 tbsp Dijon Mustard

2 tbsp Honey

Salt/Pepper

Season Pork loin with Olive Oil, Dijon Mustard, Chopped Rosemary leaves, Honey, and salt/pepper. Roast Covered at 300 degrees for 1 1/2 - 2 hours, until center of loin is medium done. Rest pork loin 10-15 minutes.  Fry up bacon slices. Chop Red Onions into thin slices and saute in bacon grease until caramelized. Cut off rind on 10 oz wheel of Brie Cheese and cut into slices. Cut Raw Granny Smith Apples in thin slices. Toast Onion rolls. Assemble sandwich: Mango Chutney on the bottom slice, then Brie Cheese slices, then Pork loin slices, then 2-3 strips bacon, and finally Granny Smith apple slices topped with caramelized red onions and top of the onion roll....and voila!

Copyright Adam Gaile 2013

Catalyst For The End

“Lost Territories”

Artwork-Photography by Christophe Dessaigne 2013

Catalyst For The End

This waste of space is spinning me into an endless serenade

Between the bull and the fighter I lay surrendered

Watching the man in the mirror...face smiling radiant bliss

Eavesdropping on the patriarchs that plan and devise the doom of this nation

I crawl on shards of broken glass to drink the sap

From the hands of these human beings typing with cracked fingernails

The ramparts are crumbling as the intruders scream

Energy escaping from their lips to demolish the city walls

As our grandparents fall, eyes rolling back into empty skulls

The flags burn brighter in the darkness of democracy's shadow

There are forlorn barriers that keep mother's separated from their children

We have appeased the courts with a sacrificial virgin

In the form of tax cuts that cover the arms of Lady Liberty

Her bandages are dripping with blood as she vomits

Out the last remaining scraps of a meal too small for a mouse

There are pirates selling pills crashing through the waves; their ships sail

Through our backyards and markets, looking for victims to plunder

There are birds flying high above the desert raining down bullets

To the unfortunate scurrying creatures down below

We watch a box for ten hours as our feet melt into the floor

There's a scripture somewhere in this book that will shed light

On the disease that infects the hearts of men that gives them a rise

Out of killing the innocent and of profiting from the downfall of mankind

Like a snake consuming it's own tail we feast upon ourselves

In this garden of delight a lone man walks past the debris

Marching through the billowing smoke

of a city burning up in the last remaining fragments...

...of a dying world.


Copyright Adam Gaile 2013

Depression

Depression

I'm just so tired...

Of all the things in my life I cannot control

I'm just so weak

From all the side effects that have hammered me into the ground

There's no more in this life to look forward to

I am slowly dying and it's a race against time

I just wish I could find a way out

I feel trapped

By my body and my mind

I am so sick and tired of this struggle

I feel like everything is influencing another breakdown

The world is such a horrific mess

I want to move on

Was not meant for this world

I'll be a fighter in the next

Let me lie down and die in this one

Done fighting

Just want to die

die die die


Copyright Adam Gaile 2013

Confusion

Confusion

I'm so confused

Images racing shaping and taking form in front of me

My mind reels and dwindles then a thought bubble forms

Taking on anxiety as a monster takes on a morning nap

I feel like the monster is waking in my mind, ready to feed again

And this monster is called hospital, and it's teeth are nurses and doctors

I swim through the waters of bureaucracy, with God as my life jacket

And politicians and desk sitters are in a feeding frenzy

I take life in short gasps of air, never knowing what bubble will pop next

The images collide and form mantras repeating in my mind

The voices drift in and out like a radio losing it's signal

The music is breaking up and in between there are moments of static

Welcome to a schizo mind, please wipe your shoes on the carpet

I need no pity or shame-faced apologies...I have lived, and will do so

Until my maker calls me to his throne and injects the right medicine

That will make heaven full of order and clarity

Then there will be no more distractions

My brain will no longer be my enemy

There will be an alternative to drilling into it to find the holes

Pocketed like Swiss cheese chemicals melting it away

I fear change is coming, and what I have learned long ago is...
...change is an unpredictable beast

Best to stay inside, live slow, blink turtle eyes

Than to jump back into a hole...

But who knows this hole might lead to another world

A world filled with limitless possibilities...

It's indecision time, and here I am rambling again.

Don't mind me, there's always enough cake for everybody.



Copyright Adam Gaile 2013

Diseased

Diseased

My Dad thinks my Mom is slowly poisoning him with arsenic 
My Mom throws toddler-esque temper tantrums
My younger sister has body image issues and a flat affect
From years of being shat upon by boys disguised as men
My older sister wears a blind fold
To her husband's drinking habits
And habituation to strike down her sons
With clenched teeth spraying out words like...

Freak! and Idiot!

My Grandpa died from liver failure
Drank and smoked himself to death
Because the World War II era didn’t have a name for
Post traumatic stress disorder
Gave it a funny little catch phrase, like shell shock
Could also be just as easily explained as a genetic brain disorder
Because my family is fucked up…my family is diseased
My family follows rules blindly that says be angels in church
But whip out those demon masks at home because we are all sinners
Sin is just an excuse for the reality of it…we are all weak
We are all weak human beings who have the potential for depression
And let’s not forget about the big scary “P” word…

Psychosis

The truth is…my family acts like starving wild dogs at holiday dinners
We foam at the mouth, biting each other for scraps of praise and approval
Scraps of validation, pride, favoritism, and acceptance…
We are beasts wandering through the wilderness of American suburbia 
We call this nurturing demand and compliance a cohabitation of love
But the truth is my Dad is a delusional workaholic
My Mom is a bipolar train wreck
My sisters are scabs on wounds that never quite heal up 
My brother-in law is a carbon copy of his father
And I…well I’m going out just like my Grandpa did…
Sipping and smoking until my liver explodes. 

Copyright Adam A. Gaile 2013

Adam's Roasted Turkey Legs

Adam's Roasted Turkey Legs

2-3 Turkey Legs

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/4 cup yellow mustard

2 Tbsp Fresh Thyme

2-3 Tbsp Liquid Smoke

1 tsp Ground Cayenne Pepper

1 tsp Cracked Black Pepper

1 tsp salt

Pat dry the Turkey Legs. Mix brown sugar, mustard, thyme, cayenne pepper, liquid smoke, salt, and black pepper to form a paste-marinade. Marinate Turkey Legs covered in fridge for 3 hours. Preheat Oven to 350. Place turkey legs on a roasting rack over a pan for 1 hour 30 minutes until internal temperature reaches 175 degrees. Let cool 5-10 minutes, serve and enjoy.

Copyright Adam Gaile 2013

Seafood Salad Ala` Adam

Seafood Salad Ala` Adam

1 lb Imitation crab meat (half shredded, half whole chunks)

2 Celery Stalks

4 Green Onion shoots

1 small can Water Chestnuts (chopped)

1 4 oz container Feta Cheese

3/4 cup Mayonnaise

1/4 cup Fresh Dill

5-7 Fresh Basil leaves (chopped finely)

Juice of 1/2 lemon

1 tbsp Light Corn Syrup

1/2 tsp Old Bay Seasoning

1 tsp Lemon Pepper

Separate half of imitation crab meat chunks and process half in a food processor until shredded (keep other half chunks whole). Chop celery, green onion, and water chestnuts into very small pieces. Chop dill and basil finely. Mix Mayonnaise, lemon juice, corn syrup, lemon-pepper, and Old Bay seasoning. Combine shredded crab, whole crab, celery, green onion, water chestnuts, dill, basil, and mayonnaise mixture until well blended. Lastly fold in Feta cheese and mix gently, and Voila! 

Copyright Adam Gaile 2013

Antihero

Antihero

I’m a superhero motherfucker 
I’m the chosen one you see
I know we are meant to be together
I know you have been searching for me
Cause bitch I have super powers
They’re stemming from internal rage
I can morph and disappear into a goddamn ghost
Walk through the walls and watch you undress
I’m the one the CIA is looking for
I am the key to solving the mysteries of the universe 
I am really a fallen God in disguise
Stricken with amnesia of my own omnipotence 
I’m going to open my deep black mouth and scream
I am the antihero in this comedy of life
Snapping back snitches necks till they break
And fuck it all I’m gonna snap and break
The equator in half and watch it all float away
I am Godzilla’s daddy destroying your city
The moment of dismal epiphany before the screen fades to black
I’ve been alive for eons
Waiting for my time and tomb to be unearthed 
I can teleport into the fed and stroll out with bars of gold
Stroll into bars and make females faint
Fuck all that, I can’t even get a date
I can’t fly, can’t breathe fire, no superhuman strength
Truth be told…
I’m a 10 year old trapped in an old fat body
I am nothing…
Just a leech sucking blood from society’s teats
I’d sell my soul for a McDouble and a hug
Just want to cuddle with a warm body
I am no fucking superhero
No mystery to me at all
Just another deranged damaged soul
Unable to live up to the expectations of his inner child
When I grow up I want a billion dollars
So I can burn it all. 


Copyright Adam Gaile 2013

Squirt

Squirt

I just need somebody to lick my head at night
I need somebody who will drape their legs over mine
Until my legs go numb, but I don’t care
I just need somebody to lick my feet at night
I need somebody to squeeze the breath out of me
When I am shaking and trembling from grief
As tears drizzle down like rain drops dripping 
From roof gutters down my red cheeks
Snot dribbling down my lip…as I scream into mom’s soft shoulder
Why?! Why?! 
Why did he have to die…
I buried my best friend in a shallow grassy grave
In the front yard of my parent’s house
He was my heart and I often told him so
He was my shadow on dirty kitchen tiles on shoeless nights
He was just a tiny little thing that drew all eyes 
Walking down the street the utterly animated magnificent 
Wondrous face that could hide no evil or cruelty
Smashed and bloodied by some strange wheel
Smashed and dilapidated head caved inward, frozen stiff
On a cold Thanksgiving afternoon…I carried my heart
I stared death in the face and gently petted away
The sanity that I had so carefully stitched together over the last 7 years
I carried my heart and buried it in the cold November ground
I spoke the last words ever uttered to a dead friend
It’s okay boy…I’ll see you again soon
Holding on to childhood Sunday school lessons
A carcass frozen by the elements, and I am in Agony
Agony as dysmorphic reality splinters and shifts
Shattering my sanity as my tears drip into his grave
And now all I want and everything I crave…is to hold him
To feel him licking my feet as I type these words of sorrow
To feel his tongue forming cowlicks in my hair as I munch trail-mix
Watching cartoons in my cozy recliner…in our home
Our place where I never was alone…
Never was a single 30 year old white male absent of a family of his own
We were family, and my heart never skipped a beat until that day
A day I should have been thankful for…
But I only wish to erase it from the forefront of my mind
And replace that which is empty
My heart….
With another soul as brilliant and vigorous as his
A million hugs would never replace his warmth at my feet
My dear pet…you were the best.
Behind heaven’s door you wait for me. 


Copyright Adam Gaile 2013

Grilled Chicken, Pesto, & Goat Cheese Panini

Grilled Chicken, Pesto, & Goat Cheese Panini

Large Chicken Breast (seasoned with lemon pepper and salt)

1/4 cup Olive Oil

1/2 cup Goat Cheese

1 tbsp Fresh Dill (chopped)

Baby Spinach

Red Onion (thinly sliced)

Sliced Beefsteak Tomatoes

Ciabatta Bread

Pesto Ingredients (Sun-dried Tomato)

6 oz Sun-dried Tomatoes

1/2 cup Pine Nuts (roasted in a pan)

1 tbsp Chopped Garlic

1 tsp salt

1/2 tsp pepper

1/2 cup Olive Oil

Grill lemon-pepper chicken breast in 1/4 cup olive oil in skillet until it is no longer pink in the middle. Set aside to cool. Slice onions into thin round slices, slice tomatoes into round slices. Mix goat cheese with chopped fresh dill. For pesto, combine first five ingredients in food processor, and while processing slowly drizzle in 1/2 cup olive oil  until it is smooth and emulsified. Once chicken is cooled, slice into strips. Slice Ciabatta loaf in half, smear one side with pesto, the other smear with goat cheese spread, pile on chicken, tomato, onion, and baby spinach. Toast sandwich in a panini/sandwich grill for 1-2 minutes. And voila! 

Copyright Adam Gaile 2013

Disguise

(Artwork by Bob Salo)
http://fineartamerica.com/featured/disguise-bob-salo.html

 Disguise 

I’m a lower class psychopath
And I am not ashamed
I got my two cents
And paid my rent
With Obama’s change
Crashing middle class
Prom dance staches
Amphetamine dream
I have seen collateral damage
In between the seams
Of trailer park ghettos
And smokestack lightning beams
Crashing parties with my
Xanny-crazy friends
Nurses and docs running
Screaming mercy, mercy me…
The antithesis of upper class cruises
Black and blue from childhood trauma
Jonesin cigarette blues
And self inflicted bruises
Chemically dependant snoozin
Dropping E at the playground
Lost dreams as baby’s momma screams
As she unplugs the plug
To fetal reliance upon her belly
These bums tarnish and litter
All their paved gold streets
Walking down these streets of dreams
Final destination of manifest destiny
Corruption of the mind
As corporate profits
Profit wall street prophets
While CNN and Fox muppets
Teach us the ABC’s of life
A: Austerity what a joke
B: Blaming the poor with a Sunday toast
C: Crime is merely the antidote
For injustice…
This land is weeping over its own demise
A terror plot, a terrible thought
Terrorizing my mind
If this is the end of the world…
Where’s my fucking disguise? 

Copyright Adam Gaile 2013