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Friday, June 17, 2016

FISH IN A BARREL



You remember the wild west
where everybody was a gunslinger
and when the bad guys came to town
an armed citizenry had some
recourse to deal with 'em

I had a vision
of a new America
much like the old America
where east is west
and west is west
in the new wild west

Where pistol packin' mamas
are toting something more than lipstick
and Tic Tacs in their bag--
and they know how to use it

Cuz a shootout
is better than a massacre
any day
pardner

Or would you rather be fish in a barrel?

You know as well as I
that day is comin'
there'll be no more debate
just a throwback to a simpler time
when men were men
and women were Miss Kitty
and the cathouse
is right down the street

So sidle up to the bar, boys
and get yer whiskey
and learn how to down it
in one swallow

Cuz a shootout is better
than a massacre
any day
pardner

Or would you rather be fish in a barrel?

I had a vision of a new America
where necessity
becomes the mother of invention

Where zombies roam among the populace
programmed for apocalypse
(they're already here)
and they have to be taken out
you've seen the movie--
we gotta take 'em out

Cuz a shootout is better
than a massacre
any day
pardner

Or would you STILL just rather be fish in a barrel???

 




Saturday, June 4, 2016

ARE U FLASHING GANG SIGNS AT ME OR ARE U JUST SPASTIC?



Dem goddamn blueberries when dey fall
when dey fall...

Dad deserves the best--get him some new
jockey shorts, but beware--he'll be pissed
if they're a size too small,
so sneak into his room when he's sleeping
with a tape measure.

Dem blueberries when dey tumble
off da 'frigerator shelf...

I confess what I've had bottled up inside me
for all this time is that...
goddamned Santa Claus,
he never brought me NUTHIN' I really liked.

(Would you believe I had a mild form of
Tourette's--"Saint Vitus Dance" they used to call it--
which I mostly kept under control,
or do you think I might just say that as an attempt
to explain, legitimize, or justify my poetry? )

Goddamned Santa Claus.

And dem blueberries when dey hit da floor
dey don't spill all over da place like before--
maybe my luck is changin'

At any rate, we musn't rush.
We lose GRACE when we rush--
like all the ungainly people
running to catch the bus.

But dad deserves the best, you know.
Every dad has his day
and his is comin' up.

The only lasting things he taught me were the phrases:
You talk like a woman with a paper butthole
and
Ya don't know shit from apple butter
and he was a linguistics professor too...

Goddamn blueberries.
(They've fallen and they can't get up.)

Santa tumbling head-first down da chimney.

We all
headed for a fall

So until that ungainly
ungodly day
git your back up off da wall
and DANCE!!!

(Do tics fit the description?)





Tuesday, May 31, 2016

A SHORT PLAY...ON WORDS (or "Eat Shit And Die")





                       THE SCENE: A fast food drive-through somewhere in                                                                    middle America                        

                       CHARACTERS:

                      SHE: A young female order taker
                      HE: A male customer who has just pulled up to the intercom                                                  


SHE: Hello, and welcome to SHITBURGER. How may I help you?

HE: Uh... I guess I'll have a SHITBURGER with everything on it.

SHE: You want the works on that, you say?

HE: I think...what kind of shit does that come with?

SHE: Oh, there's all kinds of shit on there, sir....a real load. I think you'll     enjoy it.

HE: Okay, then, I'll give that a try. Never had a SHITBURGER before, but my girlfriend strongly recommended that I eat some...

SHE: Oh yes, we get a lot of referrals that way. Mostly men. 

HE: So these burgers are good, eh?  I admire that you are up front in your advertising about the ingredients. That seems to be rare these days.

SHE: Well, sir, that was an easy decision. Our research indicates that most people don't give a shit what's in it, as long as it tastes good. And we've devised a way to make shit absolutely DELICIOUS!

HE: No accounting for taste, as they say!

SHE: Ha ha...that's right, sir.

HE: Your prices are really good.

SHE: Yes, they are...we make shit affordable...and addictive!

HE: Right...uh, what other shit do you have to go with that?

SHE: There's our curly fries...deep fried...

HE: Sounds delicious.

SHE : Deep fried in some deep shit.

HE :All right...I'll take the curly fries too.

SHE: Guaranteed to curl your toes. Would you like something to drink with that?

HE: I see that your BIG PISS cup is a full sixteen ounces for only fifty-nine cents!

SHE: Yes... it's full of piss, but with all the high fructose corn syrup in there, you'll never notice the difference.

HE: YAHOO! Looks like I'm all set.

SHE: Please pull up to the window then, sir,  and thank you for choosing SHITBURGER. Have a crappy day!

HE: Ha ha...no doubt about it. No doubt at all!!!












Tuesday, May 17, 2016

THE UNBEARABLE SLIGHTNESS OF BEING



Another dawn fulfills its pledge to the calendar.
Another day finds me searching for my name.
Angst must be kept at bay with constant distraction.

I wander through the crowd in a Mylar suit.

(Gotta short between the ears, I hear somebody say.)

Funny clowns--buncha balloons...

baby let's go and WHOOSH--it's bye bye.
The first in a long string of lessons.
(A child cries in the jungle under the Jurassic sun--
some things never change).

Girls in poodle skirts on porch swings,

Parchesi in the parlor, and Father Knows Best.
Secretly,we replaced this couple's 
coffee with Sanka brand.
(Secretly, she wants to be defiled in the basement.)
TASTES LIKE SHIT! she exclaims.
That one doesn't make it on the air.

Two come-hither eyes from across the room.

Carly singing:I'll never learn to be
just me first by myself.

Cruising through Memphis at midnight.

(Do I really feel the way I feel?)
She is nearly in my lap.
I said you can work the gearshift--
she made her own interpretation.

Packed my bags and headed west

(I've left a few things out)
west of somewhere
east of someplace else--
a matter of perspective.

No one knows where they really are.


And when I turn to look back, the memory of

You, and You,and You turns to salt.

And were it not for gravity
I'd have floated clean away by now--
avoiding all the fuss--like a pink balloon
under the August moon, or
Uncle Albert dodging the pigeons
before their nightly bowel movement.

Past the screaming bullets.

Past the starving children.
Past the glaciers cascading into the sea.

Somewhere there's a reason--

maybe I can see it from up here. 

Thursday, May 5, 2016

SOME EVEN RUN




Imaginary Garden With Real Toads










Somebody asked today
what I do with my time.
I said I pay bills.

That's takes up a good chunk of it.


Oh, and lots of walking

(mainly to take out the garbage).

Other than that it's

readin' and writin'
but very little arithmetic,
cuz I put 2 + 2 together
a long time ago and observed
that nothing comes out
exactly the way you're expecting.

Used to spend a lot of my time

tryin'to figure out why that was
but people would say: Why you standin'there scratchin'yo head all the time?
And I'd say oh, lice--and that left me with
a lot of free time to myself--
but still couldn't put my finger on it
other than each of us is just a half
lookin' for the other half,
instinctively knowing we were whole
before the Great Forgetting--
but once broken it's hard
to get those Humpty Dumpty
shards perfectly aligned again.

Best I can advise is

that at some point I will betray you.
Or you will betray me.
And we will either live with it
or we won't. Those who do
put on a brave face,
refusing to be broken.

Some of them even run for president.



Sunday, May 1, 2016

ULTIMATELY



When I start to thinking about it
I say to myself what was wrong
With that one?
And what was wrong
With that one?
And so on down the line
Covering all the ones I
Ultimately
Found something wrong with
And then I think about
What was good
And there was always something good
And often there was a lot that was good but
Ultimately
There had to be something
that was bad
That trumped all the good, otherwise
DUH
I'd still be with that one
But often I don't recall just what it was...

And then I start to wonder if any of those who
Ultimately
Found more that was bad about me than good
Ever run through the same checklist
In their heads
Asking what was wrong with him?
Ya know
Cuz there WAS a lot of good
(At least for a while)) but
Ultimately
There had to be
Enough bad to trump all the good

But

Why do I get the feeling that THEY
Sit there shaking their heads saying,
OH SHIT--how could I forget about THAT???

And 

Gee, I wonder whatever happened
to that A-HOLE anyway!

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

I SHOULD HAVE WRITTEN THIS LONG AGO IN HOPES YOU MIGHT HAVE SEEN IT AND STILL BE HERE



Online bullying?

when I was comin' up
it was up close
and personal
and in your face
(not Facebook)

one thing it does
when you're on the receiving end
is helps to build character

so develop a hard shell
kids
like that giant tortoise at the zoo
(and shine it with turtle wax)
and have some empathy
for your tormentors
for they are hurting
the same as you

and

consider the source

can't tell you how many times
that has seen me through

never once validated
or took their words
to heart

that's called knowing who you are

never knew anyone
of my generation
(them damn hippies!)
who checked out over it

cuz

there is a place
deep inside
at your very core
where no one can hurt you

find it

it is your strength
and your reserve
and one day
it will lead you
triumphant
into the sun




Tuesday, April 12, 2016

IF



If what were left
of you
was water
instead of dust
I'd drink a little
of you
each day
and piss you out
in the mornings
like dew drops
on the heather
then wait for you
to rise
into the clouds
and  pray
for stormy weather

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

THE ONLY CONCRETE THINGS IN LIFE



Sidewalks speak
of cig butts and spittle,
old women in door stoops,
poetry cafes and musty smelling bookshops--
the clack of high heels,
the cadence of raindrops,
and children running.

Sidewalks speak
of jackhammers, sirens, and horns--
of just before,
and the moment after,
the corner store
and the ring of laughter.

Sidewalks speak
of dog shit, baby carriages, and
ice cream cones melting in the sun.
Of epithets hurled, flags unfurled,
five o'clock shadows, gutters,
teenagers on the run.

Sidewalks speak
of swirling lights
painted faces
and tango dancers.
Sidewalks speak...
but no one answers.

Sidewalks caution:
WATCH YOUR STEP!
for the road twists and bends.

Life is a nameless corner
where the sidewalk ends.