EXHIBIT "A"

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

And if your life starts out
Like crap
There's no need to panic
Cuz you can hit your stride
A little farther 
Down the line

I'm Exhibit A...

But if your song starts out
Like crap
Like some rap crap
That ain't got no melody
That can only find the beat
But not the beauty 
Then I'm outta here
Cuz that same ol' song and dance
Won't cut it 
Lessin' you're MJ resurrected
On a Sunday morning
Doin' the moonwalk 
On this planet badly in need of a miracle
Or Rita Hayworth in that silky black
Excuse for a dress 
Running like a watercolor in the rain 
Or even Eddie Money wailin'
If I Could Walk On Water 

Could use that miracle now
You betcha

Keepin' the spirit alive
And holdin' on 

WHEN IN ROME

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--dVerse Poets Pub

You bloated pig
wallowing in the ooze
of your own excess
while that anthem rings
hollow
through every coliseum  
across the land
so morbidly obese
you can't even stand for it
in decent fashion anymore
that's alright
don't bother
cuz  you've already shat upon
all you once held dear
(let's start with the word integrity)
but traded for a seat at the circus
clowns to the left
jokers to the right
hope you like 
the freak show

bread and circuses
for the (m)asses

SPRING WAS YESTERDAY

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Once again he's ignored 
the Steely admonition
not to go for that cotton candy
the kid will live 
not learn
as his ship of state burns
(Deep Purple's "Smoke On The Water"
 in the background)
heading straight for that looming
thing ahead 

His little Engine That Could 
having jumped the tracks 
way back in New Jersey
keeps plowing ahead 
through the shit fields of time 
out of 
sheer 
fukU
disdain

So let's go downtown
and find out where 
The Mikado is playing 
I need some color
in these grey days
rapidly fading to black 

Put on a grand show
cuz I need you 
to take me for that ride
to fool me again
and in the end
pretend again
that I'm surprised

FILM NOIR

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--dVerse Poets Pub

I know secrets
tucked away in perpetuity
that are too dangerous for the world 
to reveal

and so do you

I wonder whose secrets
would make the world
blow up faster...

yours or mine?

FIRST DAY OF THE POETRY CLASS I'M NOT TEACHING

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Stop looking for the
pretty word
and start looking for the
relevant one
there are so many pretty words
blocking the sun
and the cold light of day
I'm 'bout to choke on the perfume

get over the sweet sickness
of wanting to make pretty words
and come to your senses
there are five of them
(six if you ask Bruce Willis)
and you can use them all
do ya hear me?
do ya see what I'm sayin?
are ya sniffin' out my meaning?
you can almost taste it now, right?

(has this touched you in any way?)

cuz nobody writes like you
when you sayin' things that have a meaning
and not just a sound
nobody else can do it
egg-zachly like you
and that's the beauty of it, pardner
right there

FAR AFIELD

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

The rain swept through here this morning
cleaning everything but the film 
clouding your eyes

she was all smoke and mirrors
from the beginning
and on some level you knew that
but sometimes you have to do
the wrong thing
just to know you're still alive

so once again you've gone far afield
just to learn your lesson
traipsing through a meadow
dotted with toadstools
beside that Houston police station

Don Knotts' twin brother gloms onto you
at the hotel in New Orleans
breaking into an old barbershop song
and muttering inappropriate comments about
the young girl behind the front desk
as you stand there
trying to check out of your life
he was a tennis champion long ago
before the personality disorder set in

and you feel you need to wake up
from something
but you don't know what it is
and you know that nothing will ever be
the same again
but it will be the same again
after it's been different
for a long enough time

hey just try to find one
who isn't a little wacko
in some way
as crazy serves as the new norm
all fueled by drugs and booze and war
tumult and upheaval
the daily pressures of survival
as the TV screams
be afraid
be very afraid
and high school kids
serve as daily target practice
for the irreversibly deranged

our one slim hope to turn it around 
being to make "Jackie Blue" 
the new national anthem
sung at the start of every ballgame
the fans mouthing the words
with their hands over their hearts
so deadpan serious

and you 
console yourself 
with the epiphany that you see things
too clearly
with a grasp on the nuts 
of the problem
not commonly held
but once again you've squeezed them 
too tightly
as slippery sluts
slide through your fingers 
and you vow that next time
by freaking god
you will raise your standards
and use a little less olive oil 

JIMMY REED HIGHWAY

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

Saturday night
and everybody gotta be somewhere
or thinks that they do

I'm okay bein' nowhere

but if I was gonna be somewhere
I'd be rollin' down that Jimmy Reed Highway
take out some insurance
an' let 'er rip

the spirit moves
when you've nothing to lose
barreling full throttle ahead
ignoring all the warning signs
til you crash and burn
that's a tough way to go out
but a helluva ride

when the last person who remembers you dies
so do you
some romantic bullshit maybe
as Brando would say
I'm committing slow suicide
but it's better than the alternative

and the world is screaming
NO NO
we can't be lost 

And Hitler is still waiting
outside the gates of Hell
twiddling his thumbs
they've tightened up their immigration policy
as in some other places

I've played host to The Devil incarnate
masquerading in female form
his favorite disguise
according to Elvis
and my own observation

but love was easy when it was
like a jackhammer penetrating your indifference
like a lumberjack chipping away at your resistance
like a finger on your trigger
like a ditch digging its digger
like Humpty Dumpty humping all the king's horses
like the Queen Mum humping all the king's men
like a congressman with a coke bottle up his ass
like it's so damn funny I forgot to laugh

ah, but those good times
they don't last
and you're just a momentary blip
on the radar screen of existence
headed for that crash landing

no survivors

MAKING ROOM

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--dVerse Poets Pub

He was a big deal
in his chosen field
passed away suddenly
is all the obit would reveal

below was a place for comments
and condolences 
you could leave online
most from peeps I didn't recognize
they knew him professionally
all business ya know
I knew him pre-professionally
I knew him from the front steps
of the schoolhouse 
a bunch of us 8 year-olds
gathered round 
listening to him chant:
am I crazy...am I silly...
will I eat a pic-a-dilly
he was on a roll
improvising his own nonsensical rhymes
that still make me grin today

in our little movie theater
kids shouting witticisms at the screen
his voice leading the charge
we were forerunners of the Rocky Horror 
audience participation phenomenon 
(no matter that it was 
Singin' In The Rain playing)

so amongst all the somber comments
and long-winded condolences
I wrote simply: 
John will always be remembered,
to those of us who knew him from childhood, 
as the funniest kid in our class

not so good a thing
of course
to remember the dearly departed
from that far back
it means you're close on the heels
most likely

I still don't know
what this life is for
but maybe the best we can do is to
fire off a few clever lines
then get off the stage
(always leave 'em wantin' more)
to make room 
for that next joker in line 

THE PARADE NEVER WAITS

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

In honor of the Blood Moon, I'm sharing a freebie with you from my book: Last Tango In Timbuktu.

Shelter along the cove

palm fronds fretting in the wind

sun beats down

eyes flutter behind darkened lenses

no secrets revealed

Dancing in the courtyard

summer smoke and gin blossoms

arms akimbo for kabuki

no tangos

or wild gang-bangos

for the faint of heart

Along the beach lovers entwine

like snakes that strangle their prey

love me a little

love me a little more

I'm not a lollipop

I'm an all day sucker

We take no prisoners

nor photographs of these encounters

for pride is like a ride

on a lizard's eyelid

the shutter clicks

when you forget to smile

Beyond the fire coyote waits

eyes burning like binary stars

in the morning he will escape

with a piece of your soul

Fair wind and a calypso beat

requiem for the summer's heat

magic spells and voodoo dolls

and dead men smell no tails

Crumpled napkins with lipstick traces

pedal to the metal

heading for open spaces

The parade never waits

Waves pounding the shore

echo the emptiness

phone abandoned in its cradle

like a waif on your doorstep

Staring into your breakfast bowl of Wheat Chex

you are reminded that you are back to square one

standing pat while the river of dreams drifts along in your eyes

Mata Hari

Harry Caray

Howdy Doody

Peewee Herman

Ethel Merman

Punch and Judy

It takes a village

to conduct a really good orgy

Will you stand vigil here

or will you run with the pack

into the black heart of the night?

Already you see the men are restless

and the horses nervous with laughter

The time is ripe

and you are no civilian

in this war

Assemble your brigade

we strike at dawn