Five Poems by Jake Cosmos Aller

Snarling Cup of Coffee


I like to start my day with a hot cup of coffee

I pound down the coffee

First thing I do every day as the dawning sun

Lights up my lonesome room


Yeah, but not just a simple cup of java Joe, but a God damn snarling sarcastic smarmy cup of coffee

I mean, – we are talking about an alcoholic, all speed ahead, always hot, always fresh, always there when I need it, angry, attitude talk to the hand Ztude, bad, bad assed, beats breaking, beatnik, bluesy, bitter, bitchy, bombs away, capitalistic, caffeinated up the ass, cinematic, communistic, Colombian grown, Costa Rican inspired, Cowabunga to the max, crazy assed, devilishly angelic, divine, divinely inspired, dyslexic, epic, extreme vetting, evil eye, expensive, erotic vision inducing, Ethiopian coffee house brewed, euphoric, freaky, freazoid, foxy, Frenched kissed, French brewed, funkified, foxy lady, graphic, GOD in my coffee, with Allah, Ganesh, Jesus, Kali, Buddha, Christians, Durga, Hindus, Mohamed, Jesus and Mo and their friend, the cosmic bar maid, Sai Babai, Shiva, Taoists, Zoroastrians, drinking my god damned coffee in Hell; growling, gnarly, happy, hard as ice, Hawaian blessed, high as a kite, hippie, hip, hipster, hip hoppy, hot as hell yet strangely sweet as heaven, jazzy, jealous, Kerouac approved, kick ass, kick my god damn ass to Tuesday, kick down the doors and take no prisoners, grown in the Vietnam highlands by ex-Vietcong, Guatemalan grown, kiss ass, illegal in every state, imported from all over the god damn world, insane, lovely, loony, lonely, lonesome, malodorous mean old rotten, motherfucking, nasty, narcotic, never whatever, never meh, never cold, not approved by the CIA, not approved by DHS, not approved for human consumption by the FDA, not your daddy’s sissified corporate cup of coffee, NOT DECAFE coffee, not your Denny’s truck driver weak as brown water cup of fake coffee, not your establishment friendly cup of coffee, Not your FBI coffee, Not FAKE Herbal coffee substitute, but a real cup of coffee, not your farmer brothers dinner crap, not made in America for Americans, not safe for work, not your Starbucks average expensive overpriced crappy corporate chain cup of coffee, Not pretentious, Not White House approved, not State Department safe, nuclear, Not Patriotic, operatic, Peets’s coffee approved, paranoid, pornographic, psychotic, pontific, politically aware, rapping, rhyming, right here, right now in River city, rock and roll up the Yazoo, sad, sadistic, sarcastic, sassy, satanic, schizoid, shitting, silly, sexy, smarmy, smelly, smooth, snarky, snarling, stupid, stinking, sweet as honey, sweat inducing, symphonic, Trump can’t handle this coffee, vengeful, Wagnerian, wicked, with nutmeg and cinnamon swirls, with a hint of stevia, with a hint of vanilla, with a hint of rum, with a hint of whisky, with a hint of cherry, with a hint of fruit overtones, with a hint of drugs spicing up the coffee, spendific, speeding, splendid, superior accept no substitutes, survived the Vietnam war, the Iraq war, the Afghan war, the first and Second Korean war, World War 11, the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on black people, the sexual revolution, Soulful as a summer’s night in MOTOWN- James Brown approved, TOP approved, Berkeley approved, the coffee that Jimmy Hendrix drank before he died, the coffee that Elvis drank on his last breakfast, the coffee that Barry White crooned as he drank his cup of coffee – and the coffee that made the white boy play stand up and play that funky music, the coffee that made Jonny B Goode play his guitar, and made Jonny bet the devil his soul after he drank his morning cup of righteous coffee and the coffee that make the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll, the coffee your mother warned you against drinking, the coffee that Napoleon drank when he became the Emperor of all Europe, the Coffee that Beethoven drank when he wrote the Ninth symphony, the coffee that Mozart drank as he wrote his last symphony, the coffee that Lincoln drank before he was killed, the Hemingway drank before he killed himself, the coffee that started the 60’s, and ended the 20th century, the coffee that Lenin drank as he plotted revolution, the coffee that Hitler and Stalin drank with FDR as they divided up the world after World War 11, the cup that JFK drank before he was blown away, the coffee Jerry drinks while driving in cars with random celebrities and political figures, the coffee that Jon Stewart drinks before he goes on an epic take down of some foolish politico, the cup of Arabic coffee that Sadaam drank the day he was executed, the coffee that GW and Cheney drank when they bombed Baghdad, the Indian cup of coffee that Bid Laden drank before 9-11 and just before the seals blew his ass to hell, the cup of coffee that Tiger Woods drank with his mistresses while playing a 3, 000 dollar round of golf at Sandy Lane golf course in Barbados, the last legal drug that does what drugs should do, the cup of coffee that Obama drank when he became President, Vietnamese, Vienna brew, wacky, whimsical, Whisky Tango Foxtrot, wild, weird, wonderful, WOW, Yabba dabba doo! Yada Yada yada Zappa’s favorite cup of cosmic coffee, and Zorro’s last cup of coffee, Good to the last drop rolled into one simple cup of hot coffee


As I pound down that first cup of coffee

And fire up my synaptic nerve endings with endless supplies

Of caffeine induced neuron enhancing chemicals


I face the dawning day with trepidation and mind-numbing fear

I turn on the TV and watch the smarmy newscasters in their perfect hair

Lying through their teeth about the great success the government is having Following the great leader’s latest pronouncements

I want to scream and shoot the TV and run out side Shouting   “Stop the world.


I want to get off this fucking crazy planet”

The earth does not care a whit about my attitude

It merely shrugs and moves around the Sun

In its appointed daily run

And I sit down

The madness dissipating a bit


And enjoy my second cup

Of heaven and hell

In my morning cup of Joe




Unhinged Lunatic Howling at the Full Moon 


On the night of the blood red super full moon

I sat in an evil, depraved godforsaken bar


Drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew

Washed down by endless rounds of whiskey

rum, tequila, vodka, soju and of course beer

drinking with my buddies the Jack Daniels Gang


Drinking my way to Hell and beyond

Just as fast as I could

twenty damn drinks too sober


Just an unhinged lunatic

Dreaming of howling at the full moon


Watching the world walk by

Looking at all the fine-looking babes

Walking by the street


Thinking wild, erotic thoughts

Of endless wild libertine passions


When into the bar

That din of cosmic depravity


Walked the most beautiful women

In the Universe


So wild, so free

So wonderfully alive


I did not know what to do

As this vision of delight

Sauntered through the bar


In a skin-tight leather pant

Looked so fine

That my eyeballs hurt


And finally, I had to say something

So, I gathered up my manly courage

And walked up to her


And she looked at me

And instantly bewitched my soul


With a devilish grin

I lost all reason

And became a raving lunatic

Unhinged lunatic

Howling at the blood red full moon


Foaming at the mouth

A wild, free werewolf

Howling at the lunatic light

Of the blood red blue full Moon




April 30 In Search of America 1975 – Hitch hiking Tales


When I was young and foolish

Broke and stubborn

I hitchhiked across the USA


Started in Salt Lake City

Where my greyhound bus pass

Was stolen


The station manager

Could have helped me

But refused to do so


Threaten to call the cops

When I grabbed my bags Without the stolen tags


I said

Go ahead

But I am so out of here


Wondered about Salt Lake City

Went to a bar

Found I had to buy my booze

Next door

And they would mix it for me


Had to order food too

After a bloody Mary

And a burger


I walked about town

Saw the Mormon Temple


Finally about 3 pm

It was time to hit the road

Did not look back


Ended up in Cody Wyoming

Got a room shower

Steak beer

Using my rapidly depleted cash Spent 25 dollars

Money really went far

Back in those days


A band of professional

Communist agitators

Gave me a ride

To Des Moines


Lots of weed, booze

And politics later

Got off the road

Slept outside


Next day

A beautiful woman

Drove me to near Chicago

In a red mustang


Might have been

The girl in the song

Took it easy

Digging her vibe


She invited home

But was not sure

If her estranged husband

Would welcome me


So, I am being foolish

And inexperienced with women

Did not go to her place


And always regretted

That I had lost

My chance that day


Then on to Chicago

Several rides later

Visited friends


Hit the road again

A series of uneventful rides

With truckers

And others


And a week later

I ended in New York City


Slept along the way

In cars

In truck stops

In high way rest stops


Always moving

Always going

Non stop talking

And lots of free weed

And beer

And conversation


One more memorable ride

Occurred outside Albany

On my return to Chicago


A middle age creepy looking man

Picked me up

In a brand-new Cadillac


He was he said a dynamite deliverer

For the Mafia

Went to various places

To blow up shit


He hated a lot of people

Particularly hippies from California

And Jewish people


Looking at me to confirm

That I was both


I told him that I lived in New York

And had never been to California

And although I might have looked Jewish

As I what was called back in the day

A “Jewfro”


I was not Jewish

Many years later I discovered

That I am indeed part Jewish

But then I did not know

And I felt a bit of strategic information

Might keep me alive


Then I realized that he was just jiving with me

And we relaxed

And he pulled out some weed

And beer

And we mellowed out


But I believe that he really was with the mob

Perhaps not a dynamite dealer

A real made Italian made mafia member


By Chicago

I had enough

I called my Dad

Told him what had happened


Wanted a ticket home

And he sent me a ticket

And 500 dollars

And I went home


I told him I would tell him

My tales some day

But never did


I learned so much

About my fellow Americans

And the strange vibe

That was 1975


And now it is too late

But I wanted to finally

Tell the world


Of my hitchhiking tales

In search of America 1975




When Will this Darkness End


As the darkness settles down on the land

All are consumed with evil

Foul deeds and endless darkness

I wonder if it will ever go away


Yes I wonder

If our great nightmare will ever end

Are we doomed

To live out the decline of America?


This is what I pray for 2018

The end of the darkness

The unleashed hatred

that consumes our land




the Bus – Travels Through America’s Underbelly


I am a bus rider

That makes me unusual

For a white male

From an upper middle class family


Our people are not bus riders

Though some are subway riders


Bus riders are other people

The poor, minorities, immigrants

People who don’t drive

Because they are blind

Or have a DUI


And in my case

I don’t drive

Because I have bad vision

And bad coordination

Just never got the hang

Of the whole driving thing


Fortunately for me

My wife does the driving

But I still take the bus

From time to time


I rode the AC buses in Berkeley

As a child

Line 67, line 51, line 43 F bus

Rode them long before BART came along

And afterwards as well


As an adult seldom rode the bus

But when I did so

I was always impressed

By the sheer diversity

Of the bus riding property


Hundreds of languages

All sorts of sexual orientation

Some were white

Most were not


Most of my fellow passengers

Were nice enough

Some were friendly

And some were lost

In their own thoughts


And a few

Were scary looking dudes

With the look

Of someone who had done time

And were capable of more violence


I also rode the bus

In Seattle as a graduate student

A lot of fellow UW students

And the usual immigrants

Minorities etc


And some white people



And in DC

Over the years

I rode a lot of buses


Mostly to and from the metro

But I got to know

And love the DC buses as well


I also took the greyhound bus

Across the country

Several times over the years

All over the U.S.


From Bay Area to Stockton

From Bay Area to Clear Lake

From Bay area to NYC


All over the USA


Taking the Greyhound

Was always an an adventure

Met a lot of interesting people

As people on long distant bus rides

Tend to open up and talk

To pass the time away


Overseas I took the bus

All over

In India, in Barbados

In Spain and in Korea


The Korean buses

For many years

Were difficult for foreign visitors

As the signs were all in Korean


Most have signs

Now in English, Chinese and Korean

And are much more foreigner friendly


Riding the bus

In America

Allows one access

To the underbelly of American society

The poor, the marginalized

The immigrant communities


That many middle class white people

Just never see


And for that reason

I am glad

That I am a bus rider


Five Poems by Jake Cosmos Aller

4 thoughts on “Five Poems by Jake Cosmos Aller

  1. Loved the coffee poems as a fellow fan of that heartbeat-in-your-ears caffeine drive that keeps writers writing. The hitchhiking poem has a great rhythm and story. I couldn’t stop reading till I hit the end, even if I had tried. Glad I got to sit with your writing a while this stormy afternoon. Thanks.

  2. I love the flow of these poems as a series or suite. Really accessible and rolls along like riding a bus. I thought Unhinged was wonderfully complete and wrapped itself nicely into a circular space. I also LOVED the prose poetry , at least I would call it that, that you dropped smack dab into the cup of coffee. Congratulations on being published here, well deserved. Thank a nice hitch hiking, coffee drinking, car, bus ride back to 1975.

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