• beats – Jim Smith
  • Groundwork – Chance Foreman
  • Untitled – Roger Houston
  • AiRDROP ParT one – Jimmy Valentine
  • For FrancEye – Mary Getlein
  • A Thought – Dusty P. Greenhaus
  • Peace – Stuart Perkoff
  • Surfer’s Sojourn – John Davis & LeAnne Warren
  • EZ WAR RHYMES  – Hal Bogotch



By Jim Smith

Holy Voice of Venice
Crying out softly
in the morning mist.
Escapees from an empire
gone mad with power.
Out they come
from the Venice West
from the Gas House
from the ancient bungalows
lining the walk streets.
Walkin’ down Ocean Front Walk
Got a nickel for a coffee?
Hey man, give me some
of those bennys.
Is that Bird blowin’ out
of Billy’s apartment?
Yes. Bop’s the thing
Oh my head is racing
Gotta put the words
on paper.
Don’t try to think.
No why, No how,
Just go. go, go, go
Listen, man, listen
the ocean will tell you
The gulls are chiming in:
Chee wah wah
And Bird’s layin it down
for a gone world.
Man ooooo man,
We are in The Groove.
Listen you slaves of production
Listen you slaves of adverting
Turn your back on the city
Look out at the ocean
Just stop. Just Stop. Let it take you
in its arms. In its infinite arms.
We are home. We are home.


Step into the aroma
And witness
The mechanized magic
Making mornings better
Where the bitches
Blending reality, and the dream seem
Into a dark ended tip of obsidian
Cutting through the night,
And dripping the blackest drops of gold
Reflecting the coming dawn
Only to find, the spirit of Venice
Its wavelike essence
Glassy and rough, singing, as it paints itself on the sky
Applauded by that lucky minded, high as time, jack of all trades
Building bridges over burnt dreams
So as to be closer
To that elusive angel, naked as the sunset
Watching over her city
Doing the daily groundwork.
–Chance Foreman


20:38 Monday, January 24, 2011, outside the Beachhead….. A simple valentine: I want to give To all of Venice. You would not believe The constant interruptions, to prevent My tending to this project. Where time went? Well, I just had to pull over and park, And let the porch light melt away the dark, And focus my heart’s yearnings; have his say. Deliver his soliloquy this day. It seems a lark To whip up something worthy. Let the spark Of Romanesque emotions make a dent. A simple Valentine makes its advent To you, dear Venice. Dropping from my sleeve, I offer this to you, love, as I live…..Roger Houston, debutante-at-large

AiRDROP ParT one
By Jimmy Valentine
sLammin off the airdrop! Hit the fLats Like punk rok!
tendons bent , twisted hamstrings..
fuLL effect! n not a
damn thing. eLse ontha top o my mind.
on my cranium. no tik tok o time..
thats when i diaL in. kinda riLed,
wicked n wiLey, sLashing with styLe.
then i gotta say fuckit! with G carve chucking phat
bucketz, of saLine im spraying. YeSi!
jus saying.. i’m craving. these waves..
ensLaving me gracefuLLy pLacing me.
my hearts racing G. when the tube reLeases me
Jimmy V . spit out by the seas.
bLessed SO bLessed.. Yesi!!
got these waves in my chest.

For FrancEye

By Mary Getlein

To my Mother
Who’s not my Mother
You feel like my Mother
A Mother who tell me what I need to hear
to follow my own path
That my only real job, as an artist,
is to find out who I am.

A Mother who buys me things, if I want them.
Who pays me to sit on my ass and read
if I’m tired
Who tells me it’s okay to say No.

My Mother who’s not my Mother,
I love you
I admire you
I cherish you for your mistakes
and your willingness to share them with me.
I don’t want you to leave
but I know you must, some day
and I know you’ll be sailing in the sky
like an old grey goose,
like the song you brought us in choir.

My Mother who’s not my Mother
You showed me how to be brave
You showed me not to give up
You showed me how to sing while marching
down the hall of a nursing home,
singing the “Women with wings” song from church.

You showed me in your angry defense of me
how much you loved me –
All the things my birth Mother never did.
My birth Mother gave up too early
left the party before it was over
cut out like Cinderella –
couldn’t deal, refused to deal and
taught me how not to deal
Tried to impose on me what had been
imposed on her –
How to be a “lady”
The legacy of that ended up killing her.

But you’re still alive,
Still walking your walk,
Still strutting your stuff,
Still putting your handprint on the wall
declaring to everybody: THIS IS ME!!!
As proud and defiant as any four year old, or 13 year old, or 84 year old.

A Thought

By Dusty P. Greenhaus
When one is PERFECT and not loving,
One is not perfect;
When one is loving and not perfect,
One is LOVING.


By Stuart Perkoff

peace  peace
we too shall

& in the air
no breath
& in the eye
no birds
& in the black
no needs

then when we are nothing & one
& our flesh is eaten
by trees that thrust to the sun
& our blood is drunk
by lizards flickering tongues
& all that we are is nothing
& all
& being born.

then over the fields of quiet wheat
the wind will caress
& there will be peace
& we too
shall rest.

Surfer’s Sojourn

By John Davis & LeAnne Warren

I walk between the grains of Sand…
To the realm of Sharks, not of  Man.
The Ocean Rolls and a Warm Wind blows, Softly
Board in hand I glide to Sea,
And lie in wait……, so paitently
Till Thunder Roars and the Hydra Soars,
Charging forward the Wave grows Near,
Zen the mind, no time for Fear,
I become the Sea and ride the Crest,
Floating on, Mother Nature’s breath…….


War adventures, hi-de-ho
take up arms & off we go
lock & load, you’re in my sights
bombs away on old termites
reconstruction is a boon
force will make you change your tune
inflict suffering & pain
open daylight in your brain
army, navy, air force, too
all for the red, white, & blue
take you to Guantanamo
when there’s info we must know
counting numbers in my head
all the injured & the dead
patrolling borders, my new chore
battlefields forevermore.
–Hal Bogotch

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