O. M. G.

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--dVerse Poets Pub

I went strolling 
through this city
of painted boxes
throwing rocks 
at everything that moved

While the hip-hop dancers
fingered their crotches
I gave the sun away
it was just another day

I fed the monkeys
and the peacocks
I danced all night
with three queens
in hot pants and clogs

in the morning
enveloped in fog
I took a marriage proposal
from a guy with a gun
and a dog

We read the Kama Sutra
all night in bed
there is something fragile 
inside your head
that makes you want to be dead

and sometimes you know
exactly what's going to kill you
but you just keep keepin' on with it

I am your God
and you shall seek no other
I carry a horn to blow
in all these streets
to notify you of my second coming
never doubting
that the preachers
will nail me to the cross

Oh never mind
it's the flag
the flag
the important thing is
that it not touch the ground

For we'll still be waving it
long after your silly God
is dead and gone

US

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Play it as it lays
no need to cheat cuz 
in the end you'll want to say
 that you won it
or lost it 
fair and square.

There is a little word called
integrity 
that has gotten lost
under tons of smelly manure
spewing out the wrong end 
of the equine these days
(mouth instead of rectum)
and that makes a horse's
ass out of many of us.

What is winning 
going to gain you
you self-serving twit
when you lose your
soul in the process
and reincarnate as a
dung beetle
eating shit for the rest
of your days instead
of serving it up?


Like the rhino who can
only see 15 feet 
in front of his face
we're all a little 
short-sighted that way.

We'll deal with the consequences
of whatever that is up ahead later
right now just put your 
head down and charge!

If karma exists
then I'll see you 'round
the old dung pile
in just a little while. 

THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT

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

Your all day eyes
Sunday surprise
I've been livin' under the guise
of something loosely deemed 
human
for oh so long

It's time to break out
show you what I'm all about
the monster lurks within
poised to destroy Tokyo
one more time
and eat your head
just a snack before bed

Scoop me up a slice of dat will ya?
that's it...warm apple a la
American Pie
I'm the second coming
of Little Jack

In my day we questioned 
authority
but we never questioned 
who we were 
somehow we just knew
(we were grounded)
these fundamental questions 
are up in the air now
like the balls you'd always see
the jugglers tossing on Ed Sullivan
now you see them
now you don't

snip snip

If I told you I was Godzilla
would you give me
all your loving support...
no questions asked?

A COBBLESTONE STREET IN CANNES

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

I know you thought
that last one was weird
and I could see you
sitting there saying:
Geez, I hope he doesn't 
make this a habit
cuz he was obviously
high when he wrote it!

(I just had to laugh)

When all your angels
have retired and given
up the ghost and you're
out there on your own
existential limb
teetering in the wind
you'll simply tell it as it is
with increasing alacrity

all good people deplore
problems at a distance

appalled by what the
unenlightened inflict
upon each other
(but at a distance)

the power disparity
inherent in all relationships
whether they be between
individuals or groups of
individuals sows the
seeds of abuse

and here's the thing
about Armageddon......

there won't be any time to
look back and ask
what went wrong
when your ass is
high-tailing it for the hills

(jump cut)

If I had my druthers
I'd be walking down
a cobblestone street in Cannes
a few paces behind Brigitte Bardot
whose butt is wiggling like
a sack of Yukon Gold potatoes
in her bright white short shorts
and yes I will take that year
whatever it is to inhabit
like a hermit crab
for all time

The person caught in any
moment in time is
frozen in that moment
because that is his moment
then a much older person
who is caught in his moment
and will forever be comes
along and has the audacity
to claim that he is the same
person as that whippersnapper
from long ago...

identity theft on a global scale

and God said to the monk of 57 years:
You know you could have done
whatever the hell you wanted--
I'm not a prude!

but whatever it is
make it good 
'cause time steals away
like a whore 
from your bedside
at 5 a.m.
and the world 
is made of yesterdays

THE CREATURE THAT YOU WERE

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

I was watching this movie 
from 50 years ago 1969
two young men on a road trip
through Italy and a girl 
they pick up (Charlotte Rampling-
always an intriguing presence)
I was haunted by a couple of pigeons
who got a brief cameo to ruffle
their feathers and then they were 
gone but they existed! 
and for a moment I honored
their presence in this world 
they lived they died
they had pigeon adventures and
difficulties like anyone...

This shit's been going on forever
and you were there

How foolish it may be to say
this is me and this was my life
dating back to ???
you're not the same creature you were
then and no one would confuse
the "you" back then with this thing
you've now become (sorry-just reflecting
on my own state of being) 
did those pigeons ever
think about emerging from the shell and 
say oh look that was me...how cute
don't think so they knew exactly
who they were at every stage of the game
so you see a connecting thread simply because
you can remember events from that other
person's life and current events of your own
I tell you don't reflect upon that person's life
they are forever young...  you are
forever old and disgusting...
if your mind opened up you'd remember
it ALL and where would that continuity
the singular life thread that you cling to so 
obsessively now be then...

Pigeon poop in the wind

LONG WINTER'S NIGHT

 Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Should I sleep in my clothes again

or does it matter to anyone but me?

(Oh, there's crumbs in my beard...

maybe tomorrow I'll brush them out.)

There are nights when the fog rolls in

so heavy that the pale light of your lantern

won't begin to cut a path forward.

And you haven't got a dog

you haven't got a woman

and you just ran out of beer.

What is dead is restless

and you've rescued no one.

That portends a long winter's night

and summer has just begun.

 I'll leave the window cracked a bit

in case there are ghosts who want

to slip in to hurl their final accusations.

Then I will sleep

and close my eyes

to everything that dies.

ALL THE NEWS YOU CAN'T USE

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

And now we take you to reporter Bill Williams, on the scene in Katmandu to interview Sven Jorgensenn, who has just returned from the summit of Mount Everest.

REPORTER BILL: Well. Mister Jorgensenn, that's quite a feat you just accomplished! But what do you say to people who look at that and say: He climbed a big rock...what's the freaking point of THAT?

SVEN: Well, when you put it that way, I guess it was about my own self-gratification, you know? Because it was there! I guess you could say my obsession pushed me on to new heights--ha ha!

REPORTER BILL:  Yes, just think of what you could have accomplished had you used that same sort of obsession to do something actually worthwhile...something that would have contributed to the betterment of mankind, or the planet we live on.

SVEN: Well...we did leave a lot of trash up there...not exactly helping things, I guess. But hey, I'll be able to brag about this the rest of my life!

REPORTER BILL: A lot of people died up there..leaving their families to grieve for the rest of their lives..all in the name of something that has no real significance or meaning... except, as you say, one's own selfish pursuits, reckless obsession, and bragging rights.

SVEN: But it proves I've got some BIG ONES, now doesn't it?  No guts, no glory.  Hi mom!!!

REPORTER BILL: Now back to our studios for a report on another truly meaningless topic....the upcoming election! 

LONE WOLF

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Kinda funny to think of 
how I once submitted myself
for your approval
(you meaning the lot of you)
in the ritual we call
The Dance
to be graded
rated
negated
castrated
or perhaps
sated
but in the end
it's all the same
but now you see
you've nothing I need
so there's no need
to bother
and had I known
how easy it would be to say
FUK TO ALL
(to be brutally honest)
I'd have done it long ago
and saved these tire tracks
across my back 

Never could figure out
the secret
to makin' someone else
happy
till one day it finally hit me...

Goddamn, Sam!
That ain't your job!

HARD RAIN

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads-d'Verse Poets Pub

I'll give you something to dream on
with your dream catcher above the bed
an Indian summer
a band of wild Indians war whooping
and an arrow stuck in your butt
as just desserts for rooting for the
cowboys in those old western movies
when you were a kid

A hard rap on the knuckles
with a ruler
for every time you caught
fireflies in a jar
they died in there 
just so you could see
some twinkly lights
shallow child

There are only stolen moments of joy
(admit that now and you'll be free)
all the rest is just the tedium of life
as seen through rose colored beer glasses

Would you cough your life up
like a hairball
examine it
and swallow it again? 

And I want to see an honest epitaph that says:
Here lies ol' Bob
his life wasn't horrible
but it kinda sucked

I sometimes reflect upon
who and what I might have been
had I gone off to kill people
at the behest of some politicians
I was twisted enough as it was

I can't imagine
I can't imagine

But thank you for your service
thanks for defending our slavery

And the animals are marching
2 by 2
as if they knew
a hard rain's a-gonna fall

ANOTHER APRIL

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


What is this "growing old gracefully" shit?
Does it mean that you will not bitch
about your aches and pains?
Does it mean you won't wince when
women call you Sir?
And does it mean that you will
no longer be able
to hop up on the table at the dance
and drop your pants?

And if you did 
would they all just snicker
instead of scream?

I like to think of grace
as maintaining my own pace.
Each day the road is filled with
cars
trucks
motor homes
and bulldozers
gunning past me like I'm standing still
just because I'm doing only
ten miles an hour over the speed limit. 
If any of them had been on 
The Hindenburg or
The Titanic
they'd have learned that you 
don't want to always be in 
such a frightful hurry 
to get where you're going to end up.

Another April has come and gone
and I'm in less of a tizzy
more inclined to listen to
music instead of news
rollin' down the road to my man
Jimmy Reed wailing the blues.

So I'll take some time
to take the long way home
and when I run out of pavement
I want the radio to be playing
that same sweet refrain
as I fade into the topaz twilight.