Right Under Left Over

“He’s Dead” Paulo Tiexeria 1988. B&W Photo.

Right Under Left Over

A collection of 65 poems. Willfully marionette-ed and directed by hands not of my own, tapping out sporadic codes to crack the enigmas that remain…

This book deals with what has been left over from twelve years gestation and nine months labor that brought life to these words, the literary afterbirth; the trailing thoughts and unfinished business, and where to file such observations and emotional experiences.

As well as being a play on words, the title implies that we visualize our mind as a giant file cabinet; And, the things we have come to understand still left un-categorized, should be filed right under left over.

Finalizing events; bringing closure to open ended thoughts; to make peace with struggle; to embrace the suffering and learn the lessons within. We tend to come to final solutions regarding all our combined moments, broken down one at a time individually. Yet we don’t see how subtle, and quickly, the brain works; we lump things in to general categories instead of itemizing every line item. We let go of the innate ability to see things beyond the surface texture. Sometimes the most delicious tastes come from within the protection of the ugliest veneers.

This is indeed the facilitator for the great illusion; constructs of our imaginings designed to suffice more pressing material needs, to displace natural evolution with Man’s deeds. Accepting mortality as is should be; a natural extension of life, wherein we become changed. Is it really the dichotomy of all things, love & hate, joy & sorrow, good & bad, rich & poor? Or is it the dichotomy of the One; God, who’s seed is firmly seated in our soul without directions or an instruction booklet, or even a map. Which is to say, is it all inherent; and the moment we come into this life we start to forget, and begin learning substandard contradictory behavior and action?

As for the cover photo

This was from 1988, and I did not make this picture. It was made by a friend of mine, Paulo Tiexeria; A Portuguese fellow. We worked together in the camera store at the mall.

The story behind the picture is as this; Paulo was on his way home from work, late, after ten o’clock at night. He came upon the scene in his neighborhood as the police were chalking the outlines around the body and, the motorcycle this soul was riding; Excessive speed, loss of control, loss of life.

The police wouldn’t let Paulo close enough to make pictures, so he put on his 400mm telephoto lens and snapped these from behind a grassy knoll; well, it was from behind the yellow tape line really, and he stood on grass, kind of knoll like.

We all end up shedding our skins in one way or another eventually, albeit this presentation is rather graphic, but so is reality.


M. Murphy




Life goes on

To have no end

Of prayer and song

And the mind will mend


Revolve in a circle

Evolve yet again

The waters ripple

And betray sin


Like an energy pool

Formless and floating

A gift from what school

Lost and eroding


Enter this life

Fresh and anew

Mother’s new knife

Hardened steel blue


We live and we die

Remember mere bits and pieces

To ourselves we lie

Of incarnate creases


Mere Thoughts

Just another week or so, of dread

Similar to dead, so they say

Like the song, that answer

Is blowin’ in the wind, truth

No man knows, market speculation


So it will be another chunk

Of time, registered in smooth format

Easy to swallow bite size morsels

Always a matter of time, so

Does anybody have the time?


Can’t you tell I’m not sure

Judged by the callus’ on my feet

Long strands of peeled skin

Recycled, never wasted

Acquired, tasted

Stranded dashed hopes of rescue

Flesh once stripped leaving bone residue

Wounds of severity do regenerate anew

We can imagine a fashion survivable

Harsh and seemingly drastic thoughts


Mere thoughts…


Leave It

Be a trooper, a troubadour open door and walk on through

See the man on the street with a giant bottle of gin

See the pain in how I write, observe the human zoo

Watch closely listen carefully learn not to give in


Life remains, remains unfinished never to an end

Like a song by the best to keep you wanting

Sing it again you ole dog you, again to heal and mend

Purest joy and symphony, harmony when we are poor


Leave it for now



She told me my fortune

Read my palm

Said I would live to be 125

I said at least

And furthermore

Where do you get your information?


One who understands the complex simplicity

The simple complexity

The mystery

The why and what fors

Just where will that path lead


Five chickens and a dog

A hair salon for punk rock hairdos

Hair sculptures she said

Never marry but lots of kids

A gift of sight or a curse

Of blindness


I keep my future in my hands

My destiny, my life

Just when and how far

And where

Should it be that solitary existence

The hunter predator of experience

So damn hard to peg


Face Anew

I see yourself, your face anew

Every time I look at you

I forget you when I’m gone


I’ve opened my soul to see

The love I have for thee


I reach into the ashes

I find hopes and dreams

For a reality of seams


Threads unraveled to infinity

Sharing my universe from me


Now I know the adornment

What awe beheld unto thee

As innocent as can be


No tragedy shall befall me

Essence innate and tuned akin


When I don’t ask myself

The answers I seek

They come like a book


Open and read big plain

Not trying at all sight sane


As I’ve always been here

For you to have as companion

Lover friend and no label


Forgive me if I stare at you

Each second love grows new



Surrendering myself to an unseen force

Never ease the rushing waves

Knocking me over every time

Dumping sand in my shorts

In time

Everything either gains or loses its luster

And answer to why

You put a dumpster in the alley

But no one is that righteous

Save for only in the mind

For it will be ongoing

My observations of humanity

Nobody seems interesting

Unaware of the time

And children’s eyes see all

I play that game of innocence

Known as a repulsion to some

Not enough questions

I really must be on my way

The out of tune song

A marred melody

Hurting my ears

(the) Symphony of phony

Instruments we hate to play

And a faded wish for the extreme



Going Mad

Am I going mad?

Unraveling at the seams

It seems to me

Alone in the streets

Trapped in a cage


I am going mad

I believe

This is true

One and one

Is two


Together they will remain

With each other



And happy

Unraveling at the seams

It seems to me its happening

Happening again


And going mad




Losing control of my composure

Wanting to at least


All the time pacing

Myself to an end

is nearer than you think


Writing without stopping

The flow is just fantastic

Cause, it just comes out


And my mind races

Around a genetic track

Roughly beyond the speed of light

There is an insane person

Waiting to go mad


Insanity And Madness

Insanity and madness

Races, like a speeding bullet

Through my brain

(it) Ebb tides these surges

Power surges

Help me, think

Without thoughts of massacre

I’m lost in a world

Of, exact directions to go

To, predetermined destinations

Wandering, aimlessly, about

A precise path to follow

Leading myself to nowhere

Sane, and sober

Madly drunk

About a world

Lost on its feet

Split by personality

Living many lives

Revolving in a circle

Fulfilling different destinies

Being quite spontaneous



I look at my hands and the reflection of death that stares back at me

With empty eyes


A stare in to space that sees a particular

So close to reach


A soothing voice rang out from the phone

Honey, are you there

My wife said I love you


Hands trembling head shaking I come back to Earth


Stay by my side and hold my head in your hands

I feel the calm rush over me and see the love in your heart


And feel the pain in your eyes


Sitting Now

I’m sitting now sweating, so comfortably

Yet thoughts escaped my head

As walked up this well traveled way


The repetition took away my say

Filed in an overstuffed mind


We all want to see it coming

A second coming, a sweet phenomenon


Aromas of scabbed foot prints

Or dashed hopes to bank on


I think of something new to say

My thoughts do nothing but betray

A mouth teeth and gums bleeding

Spitting cheap talk so nothing

But a wish to run naked


Looking much to describe

Of what’s already been done


Neatly pressed emotions

To explain similar differences


Odds being against me

Feeling drops run down my back


All too provincial over fed and twisted

Pull up around a mid-drift waist

Big ass shorts creeping crack a minute

Fresh young faces with old timely traces

Weaving a web of deceit being not so new


Hatred Chair

So seated in a hatred chair

Not willing to be fair

Twirling matted hair

The despot witch

Such a bitch

Not a stitch

No common decency

Of un-banded humanity

Judgments passed freely


Did not stop to think ahead

No love in that heart

My how those children bled

Years too late for a start


And the day shall come and pass

O’er ungrateful soul

A crop of weeds you plant and grow

The selfish bundle of bleak harvest



We all have the dwelling evil

Of human curiosity living inside

Some let it out and act upon nature

While others, the others run and hide

…and we are called decent


Sweet Angels

My sweet Angels with me

Only a matter of time

So relative


I thank thee


My love and spirit rise

And labors rewards shall come

In forms of freedom, a wailing cry

No pain has befallen me

And I thank thee observant trial


Change, a sense of weight I see

Present, sweet memory

New rose buds sweet

Fragrant divinity

And I thank thee, my Angels


We Die

We all die

Not all of us truly live

And the shadows cast are long

Over troubled walks of life

And we cry



Roses are dead

Violets are dead

No words said

No one remembers those fragrant lines

How much they meant to lovers


To the dreamers, we make due


Roses of clay

No violets today

All we can say

Now go away



I dreamt that I painted

With Picasso

Maybe not so

But I painted anyway


He and his cohorts

Hung around naked

Made themselves invisible

To time and space


I worked on a large face

A view looking up

The neck to the chin

In to the nose


And I love a dream as this

Like a kid loves candy

Licking big nipples dandy

From the girl called Mandy


That Game

And now, can we play that game

With the truth we maim

We stab with our spears

In to the air

We hope


What are our costs?

The blind babies they struggle

To find a hold in the dark

Go to the end of the line

They say


This poor old sod

I lit up one smoke after another

(and) Stare off at my distorted views

No longer can I ask

Do tell


Back on my feet again

My soles worn thin through

My clicking heels, oh Dorothy

I want to go back home

It’s gone


I’ve had my share of toast and jam

Smeared on my face like a pig

Greasy hairs clenching spinal fists

Of sleeved wars and tingled sense

Now stop



Pain full habit

Leave me now

Take up a new harbor

Unto a ship-less pier


You exist but for a second

Too long for this

World a bubble

Creature comfort



You could spell out

Wichita Acres

On her stomach




Slap hands on a pink belly

On the move like jelly

Bag lunch

Diet coke



The principle wins low degree

Interest lost in equality

Eyes on the scene of the crime

Spotting a thumbprint from the hand of time



The King lay down his scepter

All the subjects wept

Led in to a small room




Where Kings lay



Shroud for a bed


Bob Dole

Eleven o’clock and all is not well

All politicians can go to hell


Bob Dole, Bob Dole, go play with your pole

Stick it up in to Jack’s little shit hole


You’re wasting our time

You pathetic slime


You would die

If you couldn’t lie


Vote you out of office

Give the job to a novice


You’re supposed to be a public servant

To work for free

Do what you are told

To service the public

In your thankless job

If you actually worked

On programs that matter

Your egotistical head

Would never get fatter


Loser punk

Dirty skunk

Lock your mother in a trunk



A Starr is barred

Or so the headline should read

You wasted millions

For a purpose of greed

(and) The history books will read


Everybody sins

So what he did was wrong

You played your little game

Go sing your little song

In our hearts you’re wrong


This country of ours

Should prosecute you

Mr. Independent counsel

Look how you talk

Watch where you walk


And the fate of this game

The elephant and the ass

With which we name

The servant serpent

We need not be so crass


Waiting For The Dawn

Bitter sweetness fell

Upon my face

Run down like an old time peace

Springs broken needing repair


A whistling old timer

Giving directions to lost passers-by

The leathery skin and veins popping

Stride and grace of an ole hound dog


Anger rises and falls

Like the tides at Fundy

So many fish out of water

Drowning on the thin air


Moon rising from behind

The mountains standing naked

Usher this new day

Waiting for the dawn


Nose Plug

Such as the hand upon the shoulder

And a distant sound of thunder

We blanket out fear


With feigned ignorance and a wistful smile

Two fingers claim peace among the masses

We cover our ears


Cousins sometimes marry but what is the love

And prodigy flippers through life’s waters

We hide our eyes


Pall bearers walking out a carcass

Subtle reminder of a stuffed life

We bite our tongue


The room is dark curtains drawn

Two lovers claim togetherness

We plug our nose


Stakes on the grill

To bend in the wind

Like stakes on the grill

The fire so hot and smoking


Be still, listen

To children who white wash the fence

That damned picket fence


Is innocence still sought

After we thought

So much hate



Make a purchase of equipment

Laugh at why we cared

Run from those who shared

Our feelings, left to our own devices


I’m stealing electricity

From the building that I live in

Mine got cut clean off

Wise acre utility farmer


And a drop of water, my thoughts

Of fairness, the blemish protruding

Just how much more do I go on

Are the waiting ones lying in wait



The sun wept

Everybody ran away to hide

When I walked within its sadness

To my joy the crying rain

Cool and soothing making soft

Sharpness dulled to haze

And the band played on

And the sun wept, somebody died

A child was born somewhere



Faces of time alone unbending

Cannot change the course of tides

Rivers cut paths on their own

Turning back, avoid turning ahead

Not a decision by will alone

The course of events opaque

Blinding a moment to one who cannot see


Poison Fields

In fields of dreams

Where most all run to

Plowed under

Crops of poison

If you watch them grow


Seedlings don’t dare to sprout

The foul winds

Carry no remedy

When upon the rocking porch

The scenes fly by


Save but a few

Who persevere

In born taught moments

Like Fathers before

Against timeless odds


My memory serves me

Only in numbers and events

Few words surface

To be seen

Intent emotionally rampant secure


None ever like this

As this, for it was

And to behold the grandeur

The lonely paradise

Falls to black


Ever reaching touching

Knowing and seeing ahead

The uncertainty still remains

To be seen

Always apparent to all



The beautiful emptiness

In my head, pangs of nothing

To reach this point, a struggle climb

Summit, pointed out its self so often


Such deliberate cause

Nowhere is now here



Bi-polar winds

In a whispering woods

Take me out to a clearing

No more flailing about


A cuspidor dream

Chewing bits of nonsense

Sharpened to death

Eating chunks of flesh


Run along

Deepened creases of the sun

Carved in to

The hill sides of faces


A cold lie

Weeping force of nature

Colors bleeding

Traces of past waves


Wayward Traveler

The Wayward Traveler

Aren’t we all

Knowing or not


With or without

Bits of map



Follow or not

Lead or follow

That is where we go


Only so few

To be destined

To destination


And pity not

But pity all

Our word is bond


And the Traveler

Never walks

An empty road



Like a psychic

I read my thoughts

And I know how to do

So should you



And Mother said

Kill the freak

Before it gets away with murder


The cage couldn’t hold it

No longer

Down to the city center


Running at a top speed

My legs could not pedal

Fast enough to catch it



Yet we determine

And get puzzled

By our trappings

To snare vermin



White, the winter

Come the throes of blindness

Stealing the essence of many souls

Too naked to withstand the elements

Can’t afford a cuppa caw fee


Wide awake in the sleepy slumber

The blanket of cold

Feet tremble the thoughts of trails


Upon leaving, we depart

And arrive before we get there

So resign


Waist Band

Elastic waist band

Plays an unfamiliar tune

So tight you could just pee


Spy the universal chart

A bulge out lined

Truth hidden hangar


Jiggly wiggly

Open all night

With specials for all


Beaten to a juicy juice pulp

With somebody’s Grammy

Or MTV music award


Better to have lockjaw

From that episode not aired

Of the casting couch gag



Upon reflection

The funny mirror reveals all


The pattern of destiny

Significant seemingly

Again those words

Come round to haunt me


And I follow the white line

Or a dotted line yellow

Any line no matter

Has brought me to this place


Blindly I see what has become of me


Fruit Jar

Nose hair fruit jars

On the window ledge




Hook line and sinker

Fed my diaper stinker

In a little while

Intestine run a mile

Out pops a running winker



Lucky little Leprechaun

Hold the pot of gold

Get arrested on television

Sent to jail until you’re old


In Bed

Stay at home in bed

To scratch your little head

Over and over

Like my dog Rover

Humping so much you bled


Twilight Bungalow

The twilight bungalow

Upon which they laid to rest

And wasted away the mires


No bus stops or red lights

Crabs and turtles

Crowds of the shoreline


Intrinsic value

So little desire

Sweeping the sweet dirt under the rugs


Paleness abode

The children’s faces

Hungry and wanting



Emptiness runs to me

My thoughts do not obey

They stray

Wandering ‘mongst the litter

In my head

The maggots, feed on trash


I see the past

I sense the future


The weight of both

Growing like weeds


Furry tops blown away

Floating on the breeze

Such destiny


The West

How the west was won

A card game perhaps

Stakes so high

A price to die


Now it is won, the west that is

We play on again

A losing game cheating

To maim


Pumping filth

Regulated rhythms

No freedom

Stand and deliver


Oh Mother Earth

Arms open wide

Wrenched breasts

Milk drained cry


Foul Winds

Foul winds of war

The aroma stings the eyes

They water dropping anguish tears

Rotting flesh chokes us maggots, writhing

We cannot swallow down the bile

A ballet has risen among the survivors

Playing the stage looking for a path

To dredge who remains breathing


A careless step out of sync

And off comes an otherwise useful limb


Look at the eyes


Do what you will to a prisoner

Can we make them any more comfortable?


Did I mention the Mothers?

The sorrow and the suffering

Such a minor detail slipped me


War is made and waged like a job

For men mostly, for democracy

Or religion, oh the thousands of years

For that old excuse, or a land dispute

A derogatory remark, or a foul look


Here’s a good one because the rest of us

Are inferior humans, excuse me



Tired of the ways of the means

Means and ways just how not

Rest with your chin on your forearm

Dig deep in to the pockets of your mind

For lost change you’re thirsty

Aren’t you?


Tear the eyes out of your skull

Tonight go purposefully blind

To the world for help


Be seen standing

All alone and naked

No more masks

I’m tired

Of all this




Pale in comparison

Is this right

To keep on like this

And question


I would sit at a table forever

Letting out all that came to entertain

Just to see how random in order

The chaos can become unsettling


Vomit more words

Another line of fate

Closer it draws one

To question



No more survivors

Yet mere enjoyment

And delight

My curiosity

Not of what has been or said

To model my affections

So poor in taste bitter

Are we not explorers?

Should we not explore?

Possibilities limitless

Minds too narrow

Easily detached what a sucker

A pigeon of surprises none left

On a doorstop a box of mystery

To explore


Speak So Soft

Speaking so softly

Out of turn, of tongues

In ways of petals

Satiny smooth

So comforting a touch

And lay down in pastures


Counting the ways

How trite the example


Where has it gone, when

It never disappeared


With new definitions

We ride again the bike

Exploring the paths anew

Having our face to face


With God

How right the sample


So now it is born again

The cycle remains


View apparitions

Of a pain and fortune

Of wishes and dreams

The supper table place


Hoping so softly

It’s our turn it’s now

To ways of petals

Satiny smooth

Spiritual and such

To lay down in new pastures



The exercise

An exposition of life

Through keen deliberate



Understanding the rudiments

Of the human animal


And devices


Movement and motion

Therapeutic, meditative

You become

The lark and the fool


Motives clarified

Reasons unknown


Like the high dive jump

The climb laced with adrenaline

Dive right in, you swan

Sailing star-ship trooper

All joys and sorrows

That contains, like wire mesh

Chicken coop, bin order pen

Truly a slop trough


Your strokes, sands running

Through your fingers, a proverb


Woe the eyes


Treasure to seek, sunken on down

Waiting to be picked at like a crab

Surface to have found what you desire

Settle for a lesser, toss away your dislike

Don’t swallow too much, save your life


Burnt Matches #1

Burnt matches

Tossed neatly and piled high

They smell

Crinkling sinking and stinking

Literally thousands

Maybe even millions perhaps more

Burnt fingers

Worn down and struck out


Burnt Matches #2

More burnt matches

Placed end to end

Going ‘round

And ‘round and ‘round

She goes

All the way to China

Neatly laid

Spelling out burnt matches


Ripped Apart

Ripped apart at the seams

Threads and fibers of sanity

Unraveled blowing the breeze

Flowing to the ground

Picking up specks of dust

Life that has fallen through the cracks

Comprehensive misdemeanor

An error in judgment

Sentenced for a life

Of faultless memories


Rotting Thoughts



Polaroid night dreams



Wonderfully gross sauces

Dripping down somebody’s chin

Linoleum floor

Air plane food


Lack of

Deeply needed

Rotting thoughts



The outlaw rides the streets

On his tricycle

His Mother screams

Eddie Getcher ass in, hear now

No wonder he’ll kill

Like so many do

Do be do be do




Hot dogs

Apple pie

Butter milk biscuits

Tall glass of milk

Blood soaked tampons

Snot covered children

Butt littered towns

Smoke pouring everywhere

Intestinal gazes

Walls within walls within walls

Within more walls

That’s my America

Par for the course

If you’re cheating

Take it on the lamb

Or milk fed veal

Business as usual

For a pimp

Will that be cash, check or charge?

Thank you come again

And have a nice day



What I am bid for another war

Do I hear 50 thousand?

100 thousand

300 thousand

875 thousand

C’mon, lives are at stake here people

Who will give me a million?

Going once

Going twice

Sold to the man in the red white and blue

Jumpsuit holding the penis


Slay the Giant

To slay the giant, eat at his dinner table

Consume the fruits of his labor, long

Time a coming better not waste a moment


Stale sweetness, bitter stinging to my eyes

All the time, every time all the time


My stinging eyes squint and see the truth

Another murder, senseless pointless and greedy

Benign, the sign in the window by the line

Line by line, judge the fine painted crime


Hopes And Dreams

My longing wishes hopes and dreams

A far gone reality

Tattered threads ripping seams


Standing entrancing thinking alone

Find the love to call home


When I look in to your eyes

They beg me to do the right thing

As for me I can only try

My heart has its own song to sing


Wings of angels

Lift me higher

To see etched in plain words

So subtly to answer the question

I love thee


This Tale

But haven’t we all read this tale before

(and) Now can we take it further

The pure deepness an exposition of the internal

Processes of imagination analytical conclusions


Knowing no end it’s over cannot be what’s left


When humans are no longer being born, that

Is when the odds draw nearer, out of favor

To come up with something new, never has been

A time to re-invent more critical plainly


For all to see this new spectacle in our struggle

To commit ourselves in blind immortality

And preach a gospel of perpetual democracy

On an asphalt causeway so marred in destiny


There was a man who proposed that we don’t exist

Did he exist I can’t see him so he mustn’t

But as sure as I breathe I persist to exist

As peach nectar I’m a treat to spoon in


Seeing the road not the bends and curves

Just as a memory of mama’s fresh naked goods

Linger in sense we have to find out

Forgetting all till we bite in to another slice



Tell me a story

Like a Who album rock my sense numb

With organized madness making harmony

Webbed treats, a bottled milky udder distraction

Theme a team of exotic colors, and attitudes

Crushing the opposition to dust particles


A soft shirt so comfortable worn many times

Bring rain fresh birth to one’s armpits

Showing off the sealed Mason jar

Filled with clipped toe nails from the years


The Street

Walking down the street

Little jelly roll

Sweet darlin’ butter pie

Playing grab hands today


Going to see a mouthy wench

Talkin’ trash all she says

It’s me; it’s me, for the sake of Pete

She stills owes me money


Gonna get mine one day

They will all pay

It will be my say

Not just a selfish way


Sister and her judging praise

Losing to the gall bladder boy

Brother dear Lord this kid

He’s been through too much

Mother don’t feel so lost

It will be bought at cost

Father, well Dad you see

I’m trying to be me


Luck’s a changin’

For the better

No expectations

Today or tomorrow


Shy boy girls love me

Don’t know what to say

To attract her prize

I’ve heard about the play


This is the pain

That keeps me away

My studio sense

Outweighs the pay


Classical Words

I always think of those classical words

To write them out like a poet

A mandible pinching the blank air

For the words can only stare


We meter the rhythms of beating hearts

Of bleating hearts and lovers whims

Flower petals feed my soul

(but) Words in line with heartfelt rhyme


The questions are posed again

To be, the smack on the chin

Or not, like the child who wiped snot

On the sleeve of a brand new shirt


My friends, my loves, my family at heart

I’ve run up and down this flagpole of life

The taps have all played and we all stop

To watch our honor be folded or not


And more lines come rushing to greet me

A storm of literate woes and values

A breeze whose symphony in disguise

Waits to die venerate and wise

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