Tuesday, December 26, 2017


Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

As we stand on the cusp of the new year, I'm in a reflective here's an encore presentation that I know many of you have not seen before that addresses what I'm feeling...and am always feeling to some extent. HAVE A HAPPY!

I'm cruising down to the convenience store to pick up some beers
with the words of my spiritual master ringing in my ears:
You must give up your worldly attachments if you want to advance.

Pulling into the lot I spot a raven-haired goddess
riding in with some biker who looks like
one of the lout-infested Vikings in that credit card commercial.

While he is distracted inside,
I whisper in her ear: "What's HE got that I ain't got?"
And she says..."He's got...a big...HARLEY!"

So I hop back into my car,
resigned to worshipping her from afar--
but my master is adamant on this point:
You musn't worship something that could give you an STD.
And I'm supposed to give up sex--
or at least not enjoy it, if I want to be enlightened.
And I must atone for a life of living fast and loose,
in order to extract my neck from this karmic noose.

And I must be engaged with the great mysteries of life,
as I ponder why the weather girls on the Spanish channel
are always hotter than all the others...
and I am picking up a Christian radio station
on my television: POSITIVE, ENCOURAGING, K-LOVE!
It drowns out the regular programming on my PBS channel.
And I'm certain that it's some kind of sign from the cosmos--
but why pick on a nice Buddhist boy like me?

Heading home, I see Kerouac on the corner,
trying to wangle a ride--
he's been standing there since 1955.
But hard times have fallen on vagabond scribes,
as "Do You Know the Way to San Jose?"
gave way to One Night In Paris.
But he's picking up some extra jack
writing the direction labels on shampoo bottles
in his stream-of-consciousness style...

Once upon a time in a Ford Galaxy
far, far away--I whispered empty words
of love to Suzie, and Lucy, and Betty Jean--
until...VOILA! Fourteen years of coming
home every night and saying: WHAT'S FOR DINNER?
Thinking this is it--the happiness that had eluded me--
as the prime of my life slowly...slipped...away.

As did she.

And I can see my mother and me
standing on the platform
as the train roars down upon us--
she is running away...again.
And it is said that boys grow up
and seek out their mothers--
and so it was
that I chose one
who would RUN.

And I tell my master it's easier
to give up your worldly attachments
when there's little left to lose.
And there's something about being done
with the greater part of it that turns you young.
And you find yourself saying WHATEVER
and you come to understand that it means
accepting things the way they are--
and you think maybe these kids are on to something
as they shrug and turn back to their internet porn.

And yet, here I stand, crying
But Alfie's too busy scoring
to offer any kind of reply,
though he seems to be saying heaven can wait.

So I just want to know...
can there be any compromise
for one who is other worldly, yet worldly wise?

Tuesday, December 12, 2017


An encore presentation that speaks to our times

The point
is not to point out
this injustice
or that
and rail
and wail
and flail
or send those angry missives
through the mail
have at it if it floats your
rubber ducky
if it makes you feel better
 to care
just be aware
that injustice is EVERYWHERE
you haven't been singled out
(snort some o' this up your snout)
be a fundamentalist
if it turns your crank
let the preacher take
your money to the bank
you're still missing
the fundamental point
that this world we've created
you and me
is a topsy-turvy
a game one can only win
if not taken seriously
that sounds like a contradiction
(now you're getting warm)
you don't react to absurdity
you don't respond to insanity
with a jerk of the knee
just laugh along
with the other inmates
of the asylum
who've discovered the
cosmic joke
play the game
for all you're worth
but don't take a life
or give your life
(settle down with your wife)
this cheaply
alone in your room at night
putting together that explosive device
and when you've blown yourself
the hell off the planet
and your soul is streaking
back to that place of
clarity and light
you'll say oh you
you fell for it again
and all because
you missed the point
of the game
which is simply to remember
that you're playing one
and that later on we'll all have
a good laugh together
and go back
and do it again

Tuesday, November 28, 2017


If you got outta bed
this morning
you're an optimist
plain and simple
otherwise why would you?

I mean really
you're getting ready
to do your thing
goin' to work
goin' to play
goin' to get drunk 
and the sun is shining
and the birds are tweeting
( many of them have Twitter accounts)
and you just don't think about
how it can all turn to
without a moment's notice
like the snap of your fingers

We live in denial
about the true nature of life
and the turning to shit factor
we just get up every day
and figure that everything
is gonna be fine
but then circumstances
beyond your control
and that's really the key
beyond your control
kick in 
and you stand there
reassessing everything 
you poor pathetic 

What did I do wrong?

Well it was nothing
try to understand that it was
it's just your turn
in the barrel
and everybody gets his turn
cuz we're all here to learn

And that's really when 
it hits you
that you gotta be brave
that you gotta find meaning
when all the evidence points to
a universe as cold
as a witch's left tit  

And so you wrack your brain 
with the question...

What da fuck 
what da fuck
what da fuck
do I do now?

Don't worry Bunky...

Climbing out of bed is the first step

Sunday, November 19, 2017


3 a.m. on a Sunday
and I'm tradin' sleep for a poem

thinking 'bout all the folks
who will don their Sunday finery
to hang out in a pew
with you and you and you
and you
still don't get it
that your soul is immortal
and not in need of savin'

but sure
I get it
it's a sense of comm
we gather together to ask 
the Lord's blessing

and even though I'm fallin' apart
in my decrepitude
I'm good to go with all of that
don't feel the need
cuz a coupla peeps singing loudly off key
on either side of me
isn't exactly what I call "inspirational"

having said all that
I'll admit I've prayed before
but it's always been 
a white-knuckled
get me out of this freakin' jam
kinda thing 
and by god 

so let me say that if you don't feel 
a connection
with something larger than
your own ego
whatever you wanna call it
then I have to wonder about ya
as in how did you miss it?
(ah--your head was buried in your phone!)


my pen is running out of ink
so I guess I'll close for now
but it's been nice chatting with you
and if you don't mind 
I'd rather not ruin my reputation
so let's just keep all this
between you and me

God bless

Tuesday, November 14, 2017



something is there
waiting for you

you don't know what it is
you have to see it
touch it
smell it

you have to find out
what it is
and what it's going to do
to you
or for you

you won't know that until you
see it
touch it
smell it

and even then you will likely
have only a clue

you have to
play with it
let it touch you back

gah damn
what is it?
how did I find it?

you didn't
it was just there
waiting for you
though you may have walked
by it a thousand times before
head buried in your phone
(read butt)
never realizing it was for you
just for you

or that this thing
you don't know what to make of
if you caress it
and nurture it
and let it grow
might just be able to show
you the way
 to a new beginning

Tuesday, November 7, 2017


Easy come
easy go
I've watched the parade
march in and out my door
the flute players
and the drummers
the only thing they share
in common
is their transience

while I play the silent monolith
with eyes that must
not water

I see the couples
when I'm out and about
so many of them look
mismatched to me
but at least they've got something
(a roll of fat maybe)
to hang onto through the night

been in that comfortable rut
and a comfortable rut
is still a rut
less and less rutting
taking place
as time goes by

does it matter
which life you choose
when there's no way to win?


the one thing I've learned
and maybe I'm "lucky"
in that respect
is that pain
is the only way
to feel truly alive

Tuesday, October 24, 2017


An encore presentation from a couple years back. If you ain't seen it, enjoy. If you've seen it, enjoy.

I'd like to be mysterious
like some I see who never
respond to comments
but just let you wonder who they are
behind the brilliance of their pen
and though my heart is not exactly splayed
upon my sleeve
it's still up there somewhere
waiting to be played

I'd like to lead a hard life
in the Appalachians
and see what kind of verse would
well up from my underground
all blackened and irredeemable
like a coal miner's fingers

I'd like to freeze my ass off
on the ski slopes
somewhere in the Rockies
and then warm it next to the fire
in the lodge with the sound of
tinkling glasses and laughter

Someone said that a poet
is a whole world
inside of one person
choose your words
and your worlds carefully

But then there is me

I'd like to be the proverbial
traveling salesman making hay
with the farmer's daughter

And I can hear you say
I KNEW something like that
was going to come out of you

That's exactly what she said too

Tuesday, October 3, 2017


I dunno how to tell you this
but your poem sucks
and so do you

Ha ha
you know I'm kidding, right?
I'm a real kidder, ya know

Oh, and that souffle you made
the other night for the potluck
you BURNT it
and it tasted like shit!

Aw...go know me...

And while we're at it
I've been meaning to mention that
have been outlasting your
if you get what I mean

Ha ha
oh man
I'm such a kidder
a regular Don Rickles in cheap clothing

You know you always smell like a rose

great to see you
and hey (whispering in ear)
don't let this get out but...

Your poem sucks
and so do you!
(ha ha)

Tuesday, September 19, 2017


Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub

An oldie but goodie! When I read something from a few years back (that YOU probably haven't seen) and I'm cracking myself up again, I say: This one deserves another turn in the spotlight!


I see...

a home
where the buffalo roam
no more

I see...

a land stained
by the blood
of conquest

I see...

a gypsy palm reader
spitting on your hand--
you spit in her face

I see...

you at the theatre
with your head buried
in your iPhone
for most of the movie
but anyone can see
it's really up your butt

I see...

you incurring substantial debt
for the purchase of material items
that the recipient will neither welcome
nor appreciate
and that is called The Holidays

I see...

You being trampled to death
at a large department store
on Black Friday


Forgive me Father, for I have sinned...
I wore white after Labor Day
it was kind of an off-white
so I thought it might be alright
no one in my ghetto
seemed to care

Such pretense
when our prehensile tails
are not that far removed

don't look back

And now Ladies and gentlewomen
here to sing a medley of his most DEPRESSING hits,
the ever maudlin... JOSH GROBAN!

(song playing)

Announcer: We interrupt this song to bring you a news flash...a young woman, listening to our station, has just jumped off her 16th story balcony!

happy happy
sad sad
the world is bi-polar

(That's north and south, for you geography majors!)

hum dee dum
ya lousy bum


1st man: Hello, my name is Fu Chow.
2nd man: Pleased to meet you. My name is Egg Foo Yong.
1st man: Yes, I have heard of you...people say that you are a good Egg.

And now, the new craze that's sweeping the nation...SAINT VITUS DANCE!

Round and around
and around and around
and around we go

Take your anti-depressants,
but don't forget the increased
risk of suicide...

but hasn't anyone noticed
that's the exact OPPOSITE
of the intended effect?

Looking for the quick fix
has put us in quite a fix

(Spit on the drug addict
while deluding yourself
that your chain smoking
isn't the exact same thing)

You're listening to Radio KSUK...all Josh Groban--ALL the time...that's right, America, we're JOSHING you 24 hours a day!

(song playing)

We interrupt this song to bring you a special news basketball players were charged with killing any hookers today...

And you wonder why
you have A.D.D.
when there's a commercial


every five minutes

Capitalism could have worked
were it not for the
built into the human psyche

So go ahead and anoint
your sports teams
as WORLD champions
when no outside teams participated...

You will always be the Earth
that the sun revolves around
until it draws close enough
to consume you in its fire


Tuesday, September 12, 2017


in da summer
and you think it's all been
in some form
or fashion
don't you?

while one faction (the "Evil Ones")
grows more intelligent
to the point where they can
manufacture a monster storm
and pinpoint it to destroy countless lives
as a form of population control
(or so you say)
and another side grows stupider
rarin' to drag us back to the middle ages
when the earth was flat
(but you still loved your cat)

you know what
I'll take all of your theories
with a jumbo shaker of salt...
still more inclined to believe that
holds dominion over a

chest thumping
war mongering
glorified ape

who'd like to think
he's that smart
and that powerful
but can't explain
(as he gazes
somewhat distractedly
out the corner of his eye)
why his world
is turning inexorably
to shit

Tuesday, August 29, 2017


I squeezed a peach
at the market
to size up its suitability
and then began to move on to another
when I heard it say
you have taken liberties with me
and it was true
I had fondled it 

it said

now I am yours
take me home and eat me
and I thought
how callous one would be
to refuse a plea such as that
from just about...
I guess

so I put the peach in my bag

and took it home
and now I am waiting
for just the right moment
to consummate our  relationship

(I know it's going to be juicy)

all actions

no matter how trivial
we may perceive them to be
have meaning
all actions have a resonating effect

keep this in mind

and somewhere
a butterfly
may thank you

Tuesday, August 22, 2017


From my book: DARWIN'S MOON

the cars
rumble past
and from their
open windows
you hear cackling
or cussing
or some kind
of rap crap
an angry young man
shoutin' bout
bitches and hos
with his finger up his nose
I'm tired of hearing
the angry young man
through your open window
don't care if he's black
or white
I've been that guy
the rallies
and the marches
righteous indignation
like you wouldn't believe
students commandeering
the dean's office
and getting dragged
out by their heels
do you know
how that feels?
there was Haldeman
and Dean
and student bodies
lying dead
on the campus green
at least we stood
for something
besides gangsta worship
all the angry young men
who don't know
what they're mad about
every generation sees
them come and go
you don't live
in the ghetto
and the only thing
you have
to complain about
is your pants
are falling down
and I'm tired
of hearing the
angry young man
through your open window
you think you've got
something to prove
but in truth
you've got nothing to lose
but your youth
so convinced
that you'll always be
the malcontent
but I'll tell you what
it all comes to naught
and a house
in the suburbs
in the end

Tuesday, August 8, 2017


Oh SHIT, man!" said Jerry. "Something just went SPLAT on top o' my head."

Ben looked up. He heard the flutter of wings and a strange otherworldly cackle.

Jerry said, "What the hell was that, man?"

Ben stared at him, deadpan. "I think you've just been hit by Milo, The Shit Bird."

"Milo The Shit Bird...wha-?"

Ben fished around inside his lunch pail to find a paper napkin for  Jerry--the glob of excrement perched atop his buddy's hair growing more pungent by the moment. "He's legendary in this neighborhood. I know the people who used to own him. He's a Myna bird...they kept him in a cage most of the time, and he made it clear to them he wasn't happy with that arrangement. Then one day when they were cleaning his cage, he saw his path to freedom. Took off out the front door that had been left partially open. Ever since, folks around here have reported that they've been crapped on out of the blue--literally out of the blue--because he hovers over them and then it's bombs away, like he was the Enola Gay or something."

 "Geez," said Jerry, who was a poet. "That's kinda poetic justice. Taking it out on random people. He sees them as the oppressor."

"There's some inspiration for you, Jer," said Ben. "You could immortalize Milo, The Shit Bird in a poem."

"It is poetic when you think about it, man. We keep animals in cages. And because we think that's all right, we put people in cages too. Rather than, you know, trying to heal them."

"Sounds like you want to write about-"

"Man's inhumanity to man."

That's a deep subject, but if anybody can pull it off, you can."

Jerry had just about finished wiping the poo out of his hair when the two of them heard the flutter of wings again in the tree they were perched beneath under the noonday desert sun. And before Jerry could duck out of the way...


Milo, The Shit Bird had struck again. This time the cackling they'd heard before was accompanied by: squawk...ASSHOLE...ASSHOLE...squawk !

"Jesus H. Christ!" Jerry cried. "Why'd he pick on me...TWICE?"

Ben had to stifle a laugh. "He knows your a poet, dude. He knows you're sympathetic to his plight. The only one who could put into words what many of the rest of us are thinking. Poets have started REVOLUTIONS, man!"

Jerry rubbed his stubbled chin, lost in contemplation. 

Ben glanced at his watch. "Guess we better be gettin' back to work, and find you some shampoo and a faucet to stick your head under."

"Geez," said Jerry. "That kinda puts into perspective what my real job is..."

 Ben closed up his lunch pail and gazed into the vast blue sky--the place where epiphanies that hit you like a water balloon chucked by some nasty middle school kids on a rooftop come from. He started off across the park. He turned back to see Jerry looking pensive and glassy-eyed. "You comin' man? he said. 

"Yeah...sure...I'll be along. I just got a lotta shit on my mind."

"Yes, my friend, I CAN SEE THAT!" 

"The world will know the saga of Milo, The Shit Bird!  First, an epic poem, then a children's book..."

Jerry was prancing around, shouting into the wind. Though just downwind of him was where you really didn't want to be. 

Tuesday, August 1, 2017


No tracks within a good
ten miles of here
but on a misty morn
that horn
is ridin' the breeze
cutting through my brain fog
it echoes
like the call of the wild
from back in the day

I shouldn't have switched on the TV 
cuz some Trumpster shill
is telling Martha Radditz 
who the "normal" Americans are
pretty sure Caitlyn isn't on his list

I traveled all this way 
doin' the transcontinental zigzag
just to end up in a world where
transgender crappers 
would be the hot button of the day 

you can be 
whatever you wanna be
on the inside
the outside's just a shell
that we tortoises use
to deflect the rain 

(and I don't know who I am
but life is for learnin')

so when I present the idea 
of trans-racial
I'm sayin' it's not a bridge too far
cuz we am what we am
and we are what we are

not the same as mixed blood
it means starting out identifying
as one ethnicity 
but waking up one day to realize
that in your heart 
you are something else

never knew why I always wanted
to jump out of this pale skin
til I ran into the lost ones (who
like the Indians Columbus encountered
were never lost to themselves and thus
had no need of being "discovered")
and found there was Cherokee blood
from grandma 

the most captivating woman 
at age 32
I've ever seen 
her eyes foretold me
foreshadowed the coming 
of the little bastard
and one by one the pieces
began to fall into place...

a half-bro
who is half Hispanic
all the time spent 
south of the border
and in the Caribbean 
where I saw a way of life 
that was impervious to sorrow
whenever a street band would play
and knew so strong in my gut
that it was a part of me
and always had been

how my paths zigzagged
and crisscrossed
like an etch-a-sketch sky
spinning round so fast sometimes
I met myself speeding in the other direction

I'm not what I appear to be 
though you would never know

and now I'm reading Sherman Alexie
who says that Indians seldom travel
in a straight line

not even the Crows


Saturday, July 22, 2017


Bet U didn't think about
why you're with
and betcha didn't reflect on why
you're even with
yesterday either
maybe U thought about it
way back when for a bit
but hey U got some
and so U do it by rote
cuz some
is better than no


I don't need no
just to have some

but if I ever do
I'll dig up the one
that's in the back yard

Tuesday, July 18, 2017


Apartheid never ended 
here in A-me-rica
it just got more subtle
the arbitrary traffic stop
for the flickering tail light
that quickly escalates 
into life or death
is payback for your sipping 
from the wrong water fountain
for lo these many years now...

and a sympathetic jury of his peers
from kin-dee-garden on
trained to revere and respect 
the badge 
the uniform
the flag
and indeed any symbol of authority
under any and all circumstances
likely as not will let him off
if he remembers to say those magic words
I feared for my life

and if someday he should fall
in the line of duty
a huge parade will escort him
to his final resting place
give him his due
he laid it on the line each and every day
to serve and protect

though here in A-me-rica
the dark-skinned man
who gets in his car
drives to the store
just to get some milk for his babies
may have the riskiest job of all

where's the parade? 

Tuesday, July 11, 2017


It started with Madonna
now it's monkey see
monkey do
follow the formula
it's tried and true

And the law of the jungle
comes down from on high
in 140 characters
each day
(but it's beneath...the planet of the apes)

did u get a bad rap
or are u just a bad rapper?

it's still up to us to decide
what is cultural
and what is just plain crass

and the next Madonna wannabe
is up on your big screen
twerking her ass 
in your face
and somebody is calling it art
and that's what's wrong
with your generation 
right there

when nobody has the stones
to stand up and shout
who choreographs this shit???

we dunno 
but he's putting together
the halftime show for the Super Bowl!

one day
with the world awash in rainbows
our true colors will shine
until then
to go on for a bit
even in the face of
seems reasonable

Tuesday, June 27, 2017


Henry Miller went hungry a lot
in Paris
but he fed enough blood
to his bitte
to summon command performances
on a regular basis

you can't gain an advantage
by lining up in the neutral zone

show me something
I haven't seen 
like Tilda Swinton's tit
flashed in a movie
I can't remember the name of
but it was good
(partially because of that)

what if everyone woke up at the same time?
(think of all the pancakes that would have to be made)

not to get too high
or too low
as they are both impostors

impermanent states of mind
that come and go
come and go
like the shifting breeze

the middle path
slow and steady as she goes
( occasional detours into the gutter allowed)
that's the ticket

Sunday, June 18, 2017



You think that you've written down
the thoughts
that were lonelier
than all the thoughts
that were written down before you
or after you
but you are wrong


I'm reading some poems by Jewel
(don't smirk--she's "intriguing")

I am told

I'm adored by millions
but no one calls

and one can only think
what chance have I?


Poets never say what they mean
they just expect you to figure it out


that's why you're alone
(even in a crowd)
as they've all given up 
on trying to figure you out


isn't that intriguing
to those who are searching
for the light


 James Wright always told you
what his poem was about
right up front in the title...
he shared that trait with Degas
who would do a painting of
a dancer in front of a window
and name it "Dancer In Front Of A Window"


While I sit lonely
by a fountain
where naked cherubs
are pissing away my dreams
knowing that collaborationists
stalk their own shadows
while pigeons goose-step
through the square--
but none can tell you whether ghosts
sit up and listen to the footsteps
that echo through an empty museum 


And maybe if you search and search
you can find another poet
who has described the human condition as
full frontal lonely
but I'd like to think that one
is all my own


And I am alone
as you are alone
as we are alone
imprisoned within these shells
straining to touch palms
through the glass


...I have my books
and my poetry to protect me...

what I did
what I didn't
truly of no import now

after falter
before correction 
the man who seeks to make connection
finds the days of infinite possibility have flown
but only because a world turned deaf
and blind has deemed it so

the ego

in its fatal attraction to the body 
must always lose


There now
no more whimpering
face it like The Man
monolithic in his solitude
as all mill about like ants
resigned to his fate
to go out in a blaze of glory
lighting up the desert sky
on a Saturday night
on a spinning blue pelota
lost in space

Tuesday, June 13, 2017


I like women
who write like men
and men who write
like women

somewhere in the middle

they meet
in a smoky androgynous haze
where they size 
(and feel)
each other up
at long last
to their defining moment
with no compulsion
for going under the knife 

Tuesday, June 6, 2017


Some look
really geeky

some look
really dorky

and a few
so arrogantly

but I was there
and I know
that was whistling
through the graveyard

Tuesday, May 30, 2017


right up at the bar
where they can be noticed

doomed girls
on the backs of shiny hogs
with their arms wrapped snugly
around his waist

doomed girls
haven't spoken to their moms
since forever
and don't know why

doomed girls
are still trying to get their kids back

doomed girls
find work as babysitters

doomed girls have stacks of  presents waiting
for when their kids come home for good

doomed girls
are determined to quit smoking

doomed girls are going to take
that Mediterranean cruise

doomed girls
place their hands over their hearts
at baseball games

doomed girls
are loyal to a fault

doomed girls
are always making excuses for him

doomed girls
don't know when to shut up

doomed girls say
"I walked into a door" a lot

doomed girls know
it's always their fault

doomed girls
have visions of finding that nice guy
a little too late

Tuesday, May 23, 2017


I snake through these streets
at dawn
oxygen is brain food

come back
hoist the weights
do my Falun Dafa

still only 8 o'clock
the day lying in wait for me
like Apollo Creed
you got anything else, suckah?

the story of my life

am I Rocky
or just another bum?

but I'll go down swingin'
either way

so cue the music
I'm about to hit the streets again
little kids
and dogs who want a piece of me
tagging behind

I move twice as fast
when I hear a siren in the background
a conditioned reflex
from the teenage years

seizing the day
before some body part
seizes up 

fightin' the good fight 
and Apollo is wrong...

cuz I ain't goin' down

Thursday, May 18, 2017


I once met a psychiatrist
on a blind date
and as we sat there
with our drinks
I tried to see what was in her eyes
and what they revealed about
what she was thinking about

but as it turned out
she liked me
and wanted to see me again
and I went round and round
in my head about that
as in if we started up with each other
would she be constantly psychoanalyzing me
(why should I care if it's free?)

but in the end I decided I'd feel
too self-conscious in that scenario

which is weird cuz
it was all the rest of 'em
who tried to analyze me
more than she ever would have
and to this day
I know they think
they had me all figured out

Tuesday, May 16, 2017


From your soapbox
you're out to save the world
your words echoing
through the park
vying with bouncy
norteno tunes blasting from
low rider car stereos

your nebulous forever
built upon a city of hope
hope against hope
when you're dangling
at the end of a rope

but what if I told you
that everything thing we do
is motivated by either
and that we can easily choose
between them

and that you stem from a long line
of fear mongers
over generations
and generations
of fear mongers
spitting incendiary words
into the air
the fire and brimstone
heating everyone under the tent
into a frenzy of believing

and giving

but material gain has naught to do
with the hereafter
it's has to do with the here and now
and that house upon the hill

and your aim is to be
that guy on Sunday morning TV
sayin' keep those cards and letters
comin' in folks
cuz it takes a lot of jack
to buy the stairway to heaven

so the plate is comin' round
the plate is comin' round
(what's in your wallet?)