Cerebral Contents:

Update for 05.13.08:

Male Model by Phil Doran

Set to Replay by Willie Smith

Backsliding by Cynthia Ruth Lewis

Tree by G. David Schwartz

05.05.08:

Disintegration by Don Hucks

Five Feet and Building by Joel Van Noord

Grocery Aisle by Richard Lighthouse

Cross the Road by Ashok Niyogi

04.29.08:

Lookalikes by Phil Doran

Dinner by Brandi Wells

The Modern Covenant by Daniel E. Wilcox

Death by Onions by Michael Frissore

04.21.08:

Future's Children by Kimberly Raiser

Identity Theft by George Anderson

The Datists by Adam Engel

A Great Deal of Money by Justin Hyde

04.14.08:

Mr. Papaya and Dale by Eric Suhem

California by Caroline Imreibe

Aftermath of Vehement Argument #1,068 by Cynthia Ruth Lewis

Trip-Hammer Vitality by Lisa Nickerson

04.07.08:

The Florence of Basel, or Why Readers of Nietzsche Need to Read Burckhardt by Jeff Crouch

Slideshow by Miles J. Bell

Friends of the Poet by Sean C. Bowen

Picture Perfect by Leah Baldwin

03.24.08:

The Streak by Jeremy Hendrix

Grab Your Butts by Emme Hor

Far Away by Ashok Niyogi

Staring Down a White-Tailed Doe by Aleathia Drehmer

03.17.08:

The Hairbrush by Vernard Kennedy

Dog Days of Winter by Niall Berkeley

Poem From My Grave by Michael Lee Johnson

Mashed Potatoes and Hamburgers by Matt Finney

03.10.08:

Hard Work by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

Jetty Cake Pigs by J.D. Nelson

I'm Quiet in Bed by Moctezuma Johnson

Tequila Shakes by Richard Lighthouse

Cool or Not

by Sean C. Bowen

 



Now how would I know what is considered "cool" or not?
what a silly question
1. I'm just a guy — who likes the way silk panties and nylon hose feel on his cock
who still buys his herb from the Jamaicans downtown because he can't find a steady hook
likes to stand around and listen to them say things like
"wudda gwan" & "rasclot"
take in the smell of jerk chicken and curry goat
2. Stealing aerosol is art to me
once carried out the order to deface every surface available to me and unsecured
like in the late '80s when I took that bus ride to NYC
sat there nervous and desperate in the seat with my hood up
the man sitting next to me played some country & western song
that I could barely hear coming from his headphones
went something like —
"remember when Coke was a cola and a joint was a bad place to be"
it was all cool
even when the Indian on 42nd street told me
"this I.D. will work anywhere I assure you"
while I scribed my name in the counter and watched him laminate the card in plastic from behind
stepped out that door a new man
a "man" now for the first time, for that matter
but the pushers still drove a hard bargain
took me for all I had
was broke within an hour
had to find a transit cop... ran up to him
"I've been robbed!"
"all happened at Grand Central by a gang of black kids"
that's how I got the free train home.

______________________________________
With several small press publication credits to date he constructs some of the most wonderfully twisted writing without all the rules. Thought provoking & brutally honest. Sometimes erotic or even down right dirty. All of the time real. This describes Sean C. Bowen's writings on the everyday thoughts that course through the human animal. Urban writing of the highest calibre, full of nasty fibre and calories; skeletal and street level like the best Velvet Underground or Lou Reed. myspace.com/yeskone.

posted 12.17.07.

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