WAITING FOR THE DAWN

When Frank Sinatra comes on 

singing "New York New York"

I shut off the radio. They'd been

playing some pretty 

decent stuff up till then

but that's like an obscene joke now.

 Still thirteen hours 

to go before dawn

and there's no guarantee

I will sleep any of it away.

Reading poems by Bukowski

and Raymond Carver. 

I buy books off the internet

to read on my Kindle.  

I buy plenty of books that way.

(I know you never buy a damn

book, but all your libraries are closed!)

I'm looking for something there, 

but so often I find disappointment.

Like the time--

it was a long time ago now--

I was at this singles dance

and this woman I didn't know

looked at me like she could

see right through me and she says:

You're looking for something...

but you're not going to find it here.

What did she think I was looking for?

Happily Ever After?

I still don't know.

But there's twelve hours to go before dawn...

and I know 

I'm going 

to have to

fill it 

with something 

that passes 

for living.

MASQUERADE IN SEARCH OF A BALL

I finally gave in
and put on the mask
and went strolling
through the aisles

Me!
the one who always
colored outside the lines
only to find
I felt a strange sense
of belonging 
to be
just another
Chinese wannabe
(all you see
are my beady little eyes)

and when I walk by
people turn their heads
and exclaim
Who was that masked man?
(Tonto is roaming around
here someplace
shopping for a new
rainbow colored headband)

and I understand 
it's not so much
for my own protection
as it is for theirs

and I find it ironic 
as hell
and a big grin
splashes across my face
to think that society
only just now
has thought of a way
to protect itself
from me

A NOTE FROM LUCIFER HIMSELF

I'll drive down the street
and see peeps walking along
from the back
I can't see their faces
just their shape and
male or female
though that's not always
easy to discern

and the game I play
is if I could
would I trade places
with this person? 

I have to decide before
I pass them by
no fair looking
at their faces 
split-second decision
(leap of faith based
upon incomplete information--
so familiar to me)

and I surprise myself at
how many times I say no
I'm not switching
even though I often see
it's someone younger
likely in better health
and better shape 
prolly with everything
going for them
and I surprise myself
at how often
I would still choose to be me

guess it's the old devil
that you know
is better than the one
you don't know

and I'm nothing
if not an old devil
with a lot
of really hot
memories

SCORCHED

3 a.m. 
and the road out here
is quiet as the moon

normally some solitary soul 
would be puttering by even
at this hour but
it's Easter morn and
everyone's sleeping on
their modified plans

no mass (no mas)
and you've got no one
to model your bonnet for
but you've got that chocolate
bunny you will mash into
your face at the appropriate moment
fingers all black and sticky
with the mortal sin of it but
on the third day you will rise
and begin your diet

no rest for me
up working again
on the new book
still trying to learn how
after all this time
to fit into this skin
less awkwardly
to be a "person"
inhabiting a planet
and to tone down the 
frightful jitters of that

not my nature to feel at ease
inside this meat suit
(something I've seldom 
talked about)  

having decided
that burning the candle
at both ends  
is the only thing
that will distract me
from the terrible Mork-ness of it

I'm not from around here

and I've given up fighting
the insomnia
just incorporated
the extra hours into my 
routineless routine

still trying to skate by
beneath this scorched
and blackened sky 

APOCALYPSE THEN

  https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/ 

NOTE: Today's offering is an encore presentation first published in 2012. I've updated it to reflect the current year, but otherwise it is as originally published--perhaps more relevant to today's times than it was back then.

the day was December twenty-first,
and the year was two thousand and twenty.
and all of the folks down at the auction house
were going about their daily bid-ness
when there came a thundering boom
and a boomerous thunder
and the skies opened up
and a chorus of angels sang out
and all began to wonder
as the cry rang into the night:
why, them damn Mayans were right!


cuz it's closin' time
here at the world
last call for alcohol
at the weary old world


the preachers were atop their street corner 
soap boxes
railing fire and brimstone
'cept for that crazy one
who kept predicting the end
on one date and then another
was doing an Irish jig on a table top
cackling: I told ya--suckhas! 


Let the animals loose!
a man began to shout--
let 'em run for higher ground
and we'll be right on their tails.
(but people move like snails.)


and I saw Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes
wailin' the ol' Gut Bucket Blues
as she took another swig of booze
knowing she had nothing to lose
as she said, "C'mon boys--line up over here and take a number!"


and people were making love
in the street--
yeah, they were squirmin' like a toad 
to the boombox strains of
Why Don't We Do It In The Road.


cuz it's  closin' time
here at the world
almost closin' time 
at the weary ol' world.


so strained under the weight
of  inflated egos
and institutionalized hate.


and the churches opened their doors to all,
and didn't stop to check
if you were straight or gay--
to the sudden epiphany
that all of us can pray.


And mom and pop
said to the kids
go ahead and open
your presents--
it's now or never
forever and ever.


and  Santa at the mall
bolted upright
with a "git this BRAT offa me"
as he headed for the bar
and ran into another car.


and Dick Cheney,
scrambling for a place to hunker,
remembered he still had the key
to that underground bunker.


and people were jumping
from the top of Jeff Bridges
as confusion rained
on The Supremes.


and old Betty Conklin
recalled how she used
all that aerosol spray
and she never recycled
not even for a day...


and old Jeb Mcgurk
spat the juice from his chaw
as he cried: hallelujah--here I
come ma and paw!


and Paris Hilton
from her mansion of riches
took out her ipad and tweeted:
so long, bitches!


and as the animals headed for the hills
('cept the ones in Kansas--
they just ran in circles)
the roaches were throwing
a giant block party
with hijacked scones and coffee


cuz it's closin' time

here at the world
closin' time at the weary old world
no more time to be clever...


time to roll up the sidewalks
and stash them away

forever.

FIRST AND FOREMOST

d'verse Poets Pub-- https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/

Let's rob the liquor store
then walk all day
the scent of death
swirling in the air

do a lap or two
around that lap dancer
circumnavigate the moon
swing on a comet's tail

there should be more gaiety
in our hearts

the scent of earth
the scent of death
and yet 
spring is in the air

there should be more gaiety
there should be more courage
like the Italians singing
from their balconies
like the songbirds
calling from the trees

whistle past the graveyard
and rejoice
for in the midst of darkness
we have seen the light

Man's greatest concern 
revealed at last...

first and foremost
it's about wiping your ass 

ALONE TOGETHER

d'Verse Poets Pub--https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/

My life's work
as assistant
to the assistant
to the assistant
spittoon cleaner
has been interrupted

I've been told not to come
to work
as we are practicing
social distancing
but I can't properly do my job
from home
anybody can see that

so I implore you
for the sake of the country
to bypass the spittoons until
we get a handle on this thing

nobody likes a spittoon
that is filled to the brim with
cigarette butts and all kind of
green slime

the preferred way to expectorate
is to stop your car at the red light
open the driver's side door
lean down
and hock that big loogie
right onto the pavement
the other drivers behind you
really appreciate this

you'll feel good that you've
done your part for America
as we're all in this together...

alone

MOTHER

http://poets and storytellersunited.blogspot.com

King Midas In Reverse
is the ultimate metaphor
for the lot of us
everything is fine 
till we come along and turn it to shit

jolted out of complacency
your first instinct is to
stockpile that asswipe
funny
when you think of our priorities
just don't be squeezin' that Charmin, okay?

too many bodies
it's what I've been telling you
all along
too many friggin' heads
to even try to count
but nothing to be done about it now
'cept to kill a crapload of us off

is that what you've had
in the back of your mind
all along, Mother?
in the name of self-preservation?

Mars looks on
and doesn't blame you...

so quiet there now

THE STARS RUN THEIR COURSE

d'Verse Poets Pub--https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/

a beggar-king
at Burger King
asking for The Impossible

now I'm a SpongeBob diver
beneath the 12 mile reef

a broken lance
torn underpants
it undermines
all my carefully curated bravado

so many lifetimes

you think Bigfoot
is concerned about 
his carbon footprint?

and the case against
having anything
is that you've so much
to lose
(I'll send obligatory
condolences
or maybe congratulations)

but anytime you switch on
the radio
and Steely Dan
comes wafting
(like those Santa Ana winds)
you're ahead of the game

the bathroom down the hall
always has somebody in there
beneath the hand-scrawled sign
that says 
Please take a seat

you can
of course
always hang it out the window
unless it faces the street

let the stars run their course
it all makes sense 
in mysterious ways

one day your writings
will be all that's left of you

I BELIEVE ONLY IN GARLIC

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/

It is mid morning
and some salesmonkey in Mississippi
is ringing my number
ignoring the grave warnings 
in my voice greeting

someone on the telly
implores me repeatedly
to ask my doctor about
something
and the shopping aisles
are lined with friendly reminders
to get my flu shot

they're trying to kill me at every turn

so I'm off to do my power walk
and as the plague spreads 
across the planet
I believe only in garlic
and apple cider vinegar
and beets
and in the end
perhaps
I believe only in dynamite

and you're still hot and heavy
for a man from your past who was
arrogant and insensitive to your feelings
a quasi musician with no real ambition
(I've read the private thoughts of many 
so please don't feel singled out)
and I remember the night she said:
how DARE you invade my mind like that!

sorry...
my ancestors were Vikings

we live in constant dread
like quail scurrying across open spaces 


time runs down
till time runs out
and in the end
we're all just looking for something
that's more enduring than we are