Wednesday, September 17, 2014


untitled. early 2000s.

To be provocative means to evoke through provocation... Well, there's nothing provocative about smoking or a ballerina smoking because it's already been seen and done. Yet there's some people that think it's a shock... what's shocking is that you can miss the most interesting opportunities that life has to offer by wasting time wishing you were somewhere or someone else or trying to make someone want what you have. Some people like myself... we enjoy what we have already and the thrill of what has yet to come. Why? You can't be jealous of what you don't want... Sorry I don't want yours or anyone's life! People need to learn to love themselves more so they won't need validation of their life from others. 

Here's one about a provocateur that includes a bit of validation and an interesting way to give & get it... It's another new one from SMOKE!

kisses, m. 


That’s what they call me.
A man on the story.
A bum on the beat.
Wasted no time making a career out of controversy.

I’m back writing my story, hiding out behind the scenes at the ballet
Bolshoi smolshoi.
There’s nothing like watching a woman starve herself and binge on smokes.
Smoking too much and offering herself to a bum like me.
But Greta owes me a blow off
And I know she enjoys the validation
Probably as much as the men do.
I can’t blame em
Greta puffs and you will blow your head

She shoots a hungry stare at the prize below my belt
So I wink and toss her my pack of smokes.
Her left eye nervously twitches as she empties my pack
“Those aren’t candy,” I tell the dame
But she’s already over me.
Looking at the back door.

Why didn’t you shut the door?
I think it but don’t say it.
Back seat Charlie is coming up behind the scenes quick, slamming the door.

Tossing his weight the full figured schlub throws me a new pack.
Greta looks lost at this oversized mass of man and slowly takes another drag.

He’s got the info on Angela’s old man.
Richard Reynolds.
Perfect name.
White picket fence.
And I’m wondering why Angie wants him gone.
Why he gets to call her Gina.

Flipping through the info I realize
There’s nothing that Charlie tells me about Dick that rings a bell of right.
I’m seriously working a story that’s growing colder by the minute.
And Greta’s cold stare and smokes aren’t helping it a bit.

When Charlie finishes his bit he looks at me and then Greta.
She shakes her head.

“Look dame, you promised a floor show for that favor last week.” I call her out.
She drops the cigarette and climbs up the mountain of man that’s Charlie.
Pressing him down to sit against the back of the stage she begins to work.
Wrapping her legs around his neck she twists around his face
She leans back and downward and works on his zipper.
Up and down she works quick.
Charlie’s deep into the folds of her tutu with a groan.

I don’t want to watch her do this here.
But it’s too late.
And everyone is getting what they came for.
Including me, Harlan Freeman.
A writer, a bum but mostly
I’m a provocateur.

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