Monday, May 4, 2015

La Vie en Rose, Les Fleurs du Mais

The Flaneur rambles on with floromania,
Following Jack Herrer's horticultural legacy,
Indulge yourself, O lovers of magnificent buds

Mary is the Month of May


Approaching purple

Rose show!

The very distinguished flowers
Of the winners' table

Every rose here is a miracle to behold

 A rose is psychedelic, mystical, Surrealist


 Colors that only fleetingly ever exist

A select panel of roses,
We were asked to vote
 For our favorite in the entire show

An absurd task

All of them seemed ideal, 
Bordering on divine,
I voted for this one as soon as many others

Then I was guided to this vortex, 
Winner of the most fragrant rose,
It was so intoxicating that it was almost disorinting
Like the freshest most potent sticky bud of cannbis

   A temporary museum of tender beauty,
Table on the right tie-dyed for the rose-obsessed
Followers of the grateful Dead,
Not difficult to smile all the while,
Lady on the left gave me a chocolate ice cream as I came in,

But now's the time I go out again,
But I fell by again to smell 
An astonishingly fragrance,
Too soft to touch,
But too lovely to leave alone

I just received, Sweetheart,
Your yellow roses
But does it mean
That we're all through?

Les Fleurs du Mais

Rather exquisite flowers may also be found

It is here that His genuine purpleness  occurs,

The Iris surfaces like a wet dream

In May all growing things 
Have they panache on

Oakland really is a distinct land,
A land unto itself,
And often a law unto itself as well

Panoply under a sheltering canopy of palms

The venerable haiku garden of bonzai trees,
Today I pass by

Lingering a moment 
In homage to its notable rock

A quaint man-made pond
Insistent sound of water 
rubbing out the time

Gorgeous orchid-like flower
Perpetually watered by a leaky pipe

Unroll papyrus,
find something to use for ink
I hear myself think

Unidentified flowers abound

Eagerly I dig them 
In three-dimensional sensurround

 The outdoor roses are brilliant and profuse,
To say they smell all  better
Would only be abstruse

Lawn-bowling, apocryphal here no more

Move over Smokey the Bear,
Dusty the Fire Plane
Must face the drastic future,
The trees are still lush and the grass is green,
But our long dry season is yet to begin

3 May 2015

Saturday, May 2, 2015

Cornershops in Berkeley

The Flaneur stops and smells the stockings 
as well as the roses

Telegraph and Dwight Way

 What a hoot,
 This community really hates drugs,
I know I sure do

 Now pull up your socks 
And go over to Fred's market,
Get me some ciggies and alcohol

 This place sells Walrus tusks and blubber

 Trending on rotten ice

 Adeline at Ashby Avenue

 This interesting intersection 
Is laden with artifacts and antiques

Miss Habersham's Bridal Shoppe
The Museum of Lace,
Sort of a No Man's Land

The flow of traffic
Ruthless and relentless,
 Man bears the brunt in his chest

 Time to fade into the tribal sidewalk,
Get home on BART before the riot gets hot

1 May 2015

Thursday, April 30, 2015

This Week in The Hoodie

Welcome to the Flaneur's patch

It's in a classy part of town

 An endless supply of beverages on a hot day,
But there's no such thing
As a free glass of water


 The coolest young people,

 A place where the trees are truncated,

 Where when elevator doors open,
You're face to face with the Port of Oakland

 Where you can gaze at the sunlight and water
And reach a sea of tranquility,

So you want to be a bird? *
I kept traveling as the gull flies,
And crossed the new Eastern span of the Bay bridge,
I have sailed under it several times 
But this is my first time on it,
The long stretch of unimpeded bay view is superb,
We saw a stirring vertical rainbow

Joey and I were on our way to SF Jazz
In order to dig the great Charles Lloyd,
I felt like I was on OG Kush, oh wait, I was

Miles away.... miles away..... **

* "Bird Song" (1969) - Holy Modal Rounders
** "Miles Away" (1980) - John Foxx
I hear music when I look at my image captures

"The Bird Song" is here:

"Miles Away" is here:

23-30 April 2015

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Strolling Oakland: Monkey Man

I see no sign of you,
Only hear that you

 Hugging up a big monkey man,

 It's not lie, 
It's not lie,
Hugging up a big monkey man

 Now I know that,
Now I understand,
You're turning a monkey on me

Aye, Aye Aye,
Aye Aye, Aye,
Hugging up a big monkey man

It's not lie,
It's not lie,
Rubbing up a big monkey man


See you in the rear-view mirror,
Wonder if you can make any money replacing
Broken car windows in Oakland?

Original lyrics by Toots and the Maytals,

The Flaneur recalls seeing them perform in their prime,
Wasn't it the Stone on Broadway SF, early eighties?
Dig it here:

19 April 2015