His ascension came twenty one days to the day he left his beautiful body. A silhouette was all that we could define through the sun drenched smile he wore. It is impossible to mistake his world class smile for that of any other.

A starlight flurry of goodness blotted out the pain of our broken hearts just as dawn galloped in. We told each other later that we had witnessed a chariot of gold sutured with platinum thread: a glistening chassis beriched beyond conception with spinning, light-bolted studs & each masterpiece capped with an astonishing precious gem. Some jewels were not of this world. Some jewels were not even of this universe… such magnificence as none of us had ever seen nor would ever see again; a true sweet chariot of the gods propelled by the holy willed power of four & twenty black maned stallions of equal majesty. They pulled the suns & moons from galaxies nearest our own across a royal-blue-blooded, yoke-tinged, cobra-laced sky.

Our souls, bedazzled & breathless, reflexively thrust an ovation onto the astrolabe of dawn. Only delicate golden orioles could be heard singing good morning to this beautiful day. Alex preferred it this way. In a favorite past incarnation he was an Roman Auger, therefore his heart was rich with fondness for every winged being he ever knew.

Ruby red diamonds, yellows, blues, Tahitian black pearls from yet another sweet time & place, rained upon everyone pulsing unified code, surfing crazy shiny-mind waves of Mother Milky Way.

Their mirrors reflected wondrous images. Among them were holy men washing the feet of beggar men & the women who keep the fires burning dancing a fantastic dance, millions of them & more but numbers do not go up that high, especially where numbers don’t count at all.

There were so many women dancing a fantastic dance. I was reminded of the Black ladies who sing the gospels; from the hips, hands to the sky, left then right; a supplication out to front then down to the ground, over & over & over again.

There were smiles everywhere & love, joy & more joy. If you could get close enough to these mahogany ladies you’d find that there is a lot of space & a great freedom around each one, yet from a distance they look packed together moving in unison; perfect choreography like a water dance; up, down, left, right & happy. Did I mention happy?

This must be the part of heaven God has reserved for poets, from the first poet to the last, from infant poets to great ancient oracles. Everything alive & electrical is heading the same way. Everyone loving the same because love moves in the same direction as our galaxy & the cosmos. It must be the joy of the spiral, from helical strands of DNA to the great spiraling universes. It is a perpetual blossoming. It makes a happy sound. Our nature is a happy sound. Laughter. Smiles. It is a great way to live. It would be a wonderful way to die if there was such a thing as death.

Alex smiled his way throughout the universe just as he had done throughout our lives. He never cared for anything in the world but pure love. God loved him for that. We all did. We all do.

More than anything else, more than his mind blowing mastery of numerous forms of art & branches of science, Alex Johns was a great poet. They say the same about saints who come to visit us. Great poets love so much, it makes you want to cry. I don’t know why they bother with us unless it is because they love us so much… as much as we love them.

So it was. And so it is.

alex m johns by scott utley 2009 la ca usa


In various shades of suede stood Rex, King of the Goliathans. The Great Dane beauty had lived his life according to the laws of God. Kilos of muscle, tendons & fierce intelligence griped the cliffs to Heaven’s Gate. Behind him, carrying a pail of lotus leaves galloped Alex. I loved him for that. I saw a field of Mandarin Poppies bleed into the horizon. I saw both giants lay dying to their earthly vessels as much as deathly hues could burnish.
Where the sky meets the raging sea dreams did weep along the mouth of the mourning coast. Big Sur cried throughout the night. Angels sighed as the ocean, lapping needling pines, did show such compassion that the rains did come. As eve dipped into the pitch black ink of night, these two giants laying there gave witness to eternal splendor. I loved them both for that. Frosted magma breached the shores where I lay crying.
Morning came without her sirens and all was calm, when before mine eyes I surely saw a dream come forth. I looked to where the giants had laid down their heavy journey. On the very mark they had been supinely entwined near the raging sea with her eyes wide opened were two splendid giant Birds of Paradise. I loved God for that & I kissed her sky for the shear love of it all. 



Here before you is a story which shall never be told. It is a testament to the old ways of seeking solace among ashes from ashes. It has the Phoenix soaring towards a bleeding sky but the creature’s wings are broken & she will never fly again. It is not an uncommon fault to be born only to die. Yet even as senseless as this may seem to your wide open child mind, there is a beautiful world imbued with diamonds spinning side by side. It dwells within you & I. It is a sight to see for those who have the heart to look. Don’t look now. Listen instead if you must but prepare your world for a land without sound. Please understand what I do not; there are sights & sounds we will never know. I told you not to listen but will you ever learn? Hello? Are the there? This is your mother speaking. Hello?

Don’t look now. Don’t try to hear the whispers between the wind & the wind’s father. They were never meant for you. I wrote a novel I wanted you to read but I do not have the right to give you something I have never owned & will never be able to read myself even if I wanted to. All I am certain of is it is something so beautiful & enchanting it could sear into nothingness those super-planets rotating backwards behind your eyes. Dwarf stars are sometimes brighter than their brothers and sisters who loom larger than life itself.

The sun is dancing a waltz & she is beginning to heat up the dance floor. She’s on fire. You don’t understand? I know, I heard you already. You will never understand until you can read this novel. Not until you learn the new language of the new way will you ever be able to dance this waltz yourself. You need to be on fire. But there is good news for us today. The orchestra has just finished tuning its strings. Sit back with me, won’t you? Take your shoes off. Let’s take a look & listen together. Let’s fade into god together.

He said he wrote a novel. He said it was a great book. I didn’t believe him either. I prayed it was not true. I asked my very own personal Jesus to reveal him the blasphemer I knew he was. I thought he was. Don’t look at me that way. You said so yourself. Why did I listen to you? You said he was a child of the devil but I knew better. He doesn’t have the devils’ eyes. I do, but he doesn’t. Yet still I prayed it was not true.

This reminds me of something I wrote while fleeing a Dallas rehab one morning more years ago than I can remember. After the principal investigative psychiatrist there told me there was nothing he could do for me & that I simply enjoyed being high, and that there were no issues they could see that they might be able to beat out of me with a baseball bat & hat it would be best for all concerned if I just go home as fast as I can & return to paradise. That is exactly what I did, returned to paradise.

4:35 AM Dallas, Texas, USA: As the taxi careened through hollowed & empty streets towards the airport, I wrote ~ INCINERATE MY SAVAGE SOUL ~ I AM PAPER BURNING AT ALL MY EDGES ~ YOU ARE THE SMOKE I BECOME… smoke … paper … something is on fire this very moment… that novel as it teeters on the edge of my tempered glass desk in my garden where all my animals come to pray & play with me. They do so because I have lovingly nurtured our spirits together to a trust, admiration & respect. You may never disappoint your creatures, ever. They will remember that and why do so for shame? Because if you are not allowed to say, ‘Yes, I’ll do that” or “I am on my way” & they wait but you do not come, their grief is their disappointment & the rain that falls onto the parched landscape of your barren world will never help a flower bloom. Flowers will not grow in a no man’s land even if it rains forever.

I have a novel on fire teetering ever closer to the edge of my glassine desk … oops, ah shoot … there it goes … it just fell into my trash. There are billions of timeless symbols on all sorts of papers & such, some thousands of years old & some even older than that. You still haven’t read them. Me neither & we never will. Are you listening to me? Look at me? Do you hear what you are saying using my fingers & my mouth to say it?

I have a dream … it is a dream in which we fade into fireworks that sparkle forever without pause because forever never stops coming. Our universe is expanding so fast that if you lay down your garments near the waters of the creek of forgiveness, good luck trying to retrieve them. They are billions of lights years away already. Never fear. Yes, our universe is expanding very fast indeed as a healthy heart beat tends to do. It beats in beats out … just as the breath of the creator of everything & more does.  We are exhaling in unison this very magic moment but soon we shall inhale & once again & again, over & over & over it goes, a perpetual blossoming. For now, may we only speak of hope. That’s what love is. Hope. Now let us all go back to paradise & fade into god together.

www dot god hates you dot com

Good morning ladies and gentlemen,
this is your flight attendant speaking.
Please fasten your seat belts.
The captain has asked me to remind you,
there is no smoking permitted in the lavatories,
and to tell you we are going down!
Our fiery crash landing into the fetid jungle below us
should be metaphorically painless but one never knows.
The temperature at the site our destination is uncomfortable.
Should you require assistance upon our arrival,
do not hesitate to call upon your flight attendant.
Beverages with continental breakfast shall be served at Heaven’s Gate,
located in the main concourse, compliments of Our Dear Sweet Lord, Jesus Christ.
Everyone is welcome but for the exception of Reverend Frederick Phelps of the 
Hillsboro Baptist Community Church, Topeka, Kansas, sitting in aisle 2, seat A 4.
He is going to hell.
Because, Freddy, www dot god hates you dot com.
Thank you for flying our friendly skies.
And have a nice day.

www dot god hates fags dot com photo


HE SAID: I am only human. My voice is powerful so I never shout. We share many of the same thoughts. We come from the same womb. The source of all our inspiration never cries, but laughs a lot.

HE SAID: If you abort a child whose heart has begun beat, that is murder. If you have not, do not force your views. The Great Source of Our Belonging shall see to a loving rectification. If you have, do not worry, for I have seen the light of forgiveness in the eyes of eternity and your story must be told. Your wisdom must find its home, so speak your longing.

HE SAID: Do not take it upon yourself to sit in judgment of your fellow man. A man takes the life of one man, then you punish him by taking his life. Who will punish you for that very same offense? Compassion makes me happy. Forgiveness gets me high.

HE SAID: Be happy. It is your birthright to know joy forever. When pain comes ~ and come it shall indeed ~ embrace it rather than run away. You will never be able to hide. Sharpen your courage. Be kind. Love life. Kiss the ground you walk on. Take the path your heart most truly desires. This is my devout wish & hope & plan for you. He smiled a smile of ecstasy as he turned into a splended new day & slowly faded away.

prophet hh


LA CA US of A ~ March 18 2015


I let pass without acknowledging to my only friend in the world, POKER, my beloved pop-eyed Siamese fighting fish, that yesterday was the 21st anniversary of the semi-great Northridge earthquake. I remember it was such a pretty day. At first I was fearful. Not then. Yesterday. Yesterday I was fearful that if I thought upon that day long ago I would fall into a blue grey melancholia. (Not really, I just felt like using that word.)
Alex Johns was up from San Diego to stay. We were young, smart, compassionate, talented, humble & very beautiful. Well gee whiz man, we were. This reminds me, Alex also used to say to me, “bragging isn’t pretty.” What the heck did that mean? I’ll never know. But we were happy to be together & that showed.
AlEX cropped
screen  aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaj aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaascott utley by  ron link
What did I tell ‘ya? Those were the good old days. All days past, present & future are the good old days … one day … some way or another … so these are the good old days too … come what may so they say … now … hmm … what was I just spewing forth about? Oh yes, the day the earth rattled the nerves of millions of people with lots of nerve.
Alex & me … were both gently bashed onto the floor from a mattress that was in the dining room because I was growing dope in my bedroom under two 1000 watt super metal halide bulbs.
We dressed quickly. The first thing we did was check on old lady Irene next door. She wasn’t phased in the slightest but I insisted on carrying her down to the street anyway. Five minutes later she wanted back up. She said she had enough so I carried her back up. She was almost 110 years old by then so I think she was kinda hoping the roof would cave in on her. Mainly because I suppose putting up with Richard (her gay pianist lover who was almost as old as she was) for so long had made her suicidal.
Irene was a piece of cake to haul around though. She weighed 20 grams if that, so it was no effort on my part. I should of tossed her into the hills. That would have been the time to do it but I was preoccupied with getting to trolling the neighborhood expectantly searching for mangled & bloodied corpses. Irene lucked out that time. I loved her like crazy though. If she were still alive she’d be close to 300 years old.  I miss her still.
Alex & I went driving around looking for someone to help. Yeah, that’s right, help, sure. But everybody was fine … (damn it) … around us anyway. The only thing though, there wasn’t any electricity. You couldn’t watch the news or a good VHS porno on the boob tube, which is how I would have preferred to have spent that day. And you couldn’t get money from ATM’S … if you had any. We had a little sum on us; five grand at least & some change if I recall. Pocket money. Dope was a great business back then & it showed.
… Almost like out of a Twilight Zone episode, MEL’S DINER down the block up on Sunset boulevard was the only place in all of LA opened. I suppose they had a generator. Or they had made yet another pact with Satan as most folks on Sunset Boulevard do every day. “They did cook good omelets & stews & we might have stayed on with them there but our hearts cried out for you, California.”
Grateful & amused. More lucky then anything else. Not too many people had a warm breakfast that morning. And MEL’S was the place to be seen that day. But who cared really, we didn’t. Well, EVANGELINE obviously did but she deserved to be seen any time she wanted. So we had us some good  Beluga caviar (farm raised in New jersey) omelets with diced palm tree shoots & lots of strong coffee then split.
What a great day that was. We had a lot of fun. I know some people were crushed to death that day, which is not funny, but everyday some people were getting crushed to death in LA. Nothing new. You wanna know something true? Everyday was a great day when Alex was still alive, every single day because he was astonishing, simply astonishing. No shit, Sherlock.