Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Land of the Free -- Amerika's First 100


Turn that plaid off it's too damn loud

The chewing monster in the wall
will bloody well get his
and you shall hear of it

Revolution and new country
Set up as the land of the free
Constitution was writ large
Washington was first in charge
Adams Jefferson
Madison Monroe
Off we go

Meanwhile there was slavery
(in the land of the free)
Genocide of Native Americans
Andrew Jackson said let's have a
Trail of Tears
The slaughter of tribes went on for years

Cotton gins and cotton pickers and
overseers and auctions and whippings
The bitter blood was freedom's drippings

Glory glory abolitionists
your truth was marching on
end the peculiar institution
(but never give restitution)
Go Harriet Tubman go
Some fought for justice, you know

Lincoln elected
Succession selected
Battle Hymn of the Republic
Bull Run Antietam Vicksburg Gettysburg
Appomattox Court House

John Wilkes Booth
So uncouth
AJohnson now the boss
For the country a big loss

Reconstruction after the destruction
Compromise of 1876 was the sacrifice of the
African Americans
Meet Jim Crow everybody
Lynchings strange fruit
Talk of freedom for blacks was moot

Manifest Destiny that rich white male conceit
Resulted in colored races being beat beat beat
Land was taken
Cultures shaken

America's first 100 years
Cry when you hear
the Star Spangled Banner yet wave
Where cruelty is credited as brave

A rollicking start for the new land
Most of its leaders thought all was grand
Different opinions for people of color and the poor
But who would listen
Glisten America glisten

Turn off the noises we can't watch them reach
Stop it stop it stop 
Make it plaid and lose the buttons
Distract the chewing monster

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Topsy Turvy Even Curvy

The sun shone brightly on the adverb
Whispers danced in the primordial ooze
Absent an excuse I pardoned myself
And the taillight said hello
My day was a ragtag of limos and
Obstinate photo blogs

The concert was sold out
No aardvarks need apply
The Irish ditty was first on the schedule
Next up were the purple platitudes
Obtuse recollection followed

The seismic shift of pickles
The swarming mob of memoranda
Tasted like honey wrapped sorrows
Canning the detergent proved futile
Oblivious writing cats

Then I wrote part four
Parchment paper delight on the express train
The sky was all akimbo after prayer
Dinner with the forlorn paper jam
Obscene stapling muses

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Digression Session

Spontaneous prose is what Kerouac called it
by whom I mean Jack the writer and the scribe
and the prose master and the poet and the novelist
and say can you see by the fawn’s bushy tail
what so proudly it hailed when the temperature dropped
Cropped the picture to leave out Steve out and
weave out of the way of the burning and boiling
and upsettingly roiling and say did I ever tell you
about the time that Finnegan’s Wake woke
and we spoke and spokes of the wheel, the wheel of cheese

So I got out of bed and it was pretty clear that
the black dog of depression was all over the frontal lobe
and the back lobe and the middle lobes
and I was saddity sad sad sad
Dad bad
Not glad
I could feel the depression swirling around
Plus I still itched
The damn rash from the damn meds
it's supposed to be damn fading
but damn if it ain’t still bugging me
and should I call the doctor?
I ate breakfast though it was a struggle to get that much out of me
But I did it
And I sighed and nearly cried for the longest time
but managed to walk to the gym and on my way
called the doctor’s office
and all the time I’m thinking there’s no point to my life
I’m worthless and meaningless and only for the family
do I not just end it all so I keep going
and get to the gym and run eight miles on the treadmill
and after a shower I walked home feeling like aces


Been feeling fine turpentine all the rest of the day
How long will this last well I’m


taking any bets — least of all making any
Bets, gamble shamble ramble
A rambler
Pink Rambler that’s what the wife was driving on our first date
Yup a Pink motherfucking Rambler
How bout that, kitty cat
She had a pathetic white cat back then been declawed
Useless as yesterday's pus
Shortly after we moved in together
we got an abandoned formerly abused cat
Big black monster that had been living in the building
where wife worked
We called it Stretch because it was so long
and would stretch out so
and in honor of Willie McCovey
That cat didn’t like anyone touching it except me
I could pick Stretch up and hold him for a little while
Anyone else would get bit


When oldest daughter was a wee one
Stretch would sit around with us
and sometimes daughter would go over
and bang on the cat and he took it
evidently understanding about small children
Amazing animal

Did I just digress?

Did I ever....................

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

Elegy Melody

In the lonely dusk of yesterday
The lint fell from the heavens
I dropped to a knee
Supplication was my thing then
Writ large on the forever horizon
Were the vignettes of Claudius
So we shuffled into a bar
Where the drinks were purplish
We listened to Nixon talk of peace
While he ordered bombing babies and hospitals
(The tender cords of amnesia wrestled with us)
The bombs in Southeast Asia sent limbs flying
We heard the laughter emanating from the television
Silly were the situations and people on the tube
And they were interrupted by eternal detergent commercials
(Goya Garbo and Godard looked on as we waited for Godot)
This was the Kerouac of our Spring’s Discontent
And little did the peals of pain surmise
That Sherlock was lurking under the Redwoods
(Gone off the rails now)
Warmth enveloped our snow bound brains
LSD got us back to normal
We read the encryption software of Sundance
Lo the poseur we were on a tortilla high
More beans please and pass the peace and love
Understanding 2001 and 1984 and Catch 22 and 8 1/2
Misunderstanding Math and English and Science and History
The Beatles always The Beatles and more The Beatles
But crusty burgers in palatial cars did not satisfy
For we were the generation of cosmic understanding
Our super laconic waffles stolen by midgets
(Platitudes, platypus, plexiglass, posterior)
Left us under the spell of the news
A break in at the DNC in Washington
Our marijuana roaches of next week were thus foretold
So we had mad sex in millions of positions in millions of places
But with just thousands of people
Crooked angles of jet stream love sent us rapturous
We thirsted for more poetry and baseball and wine
While bombs and love exploded all over the elastic world
Earth — the planet in seven dimensions
Time to cry

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Question Time for the Despondent

How many ways can I die today?

Are any of them nice, are any okay?
How could I end this sad little life?
Would a gun work or how 'bout a knife?
Is there reason for me to live longer?
Is there a chance that I’ll get stronger?
What is the point of another day?
Can there still be fun, can there be play?
Why continue enduring this sorrow?
Isn’t likely to be worse tomorrow?
Do I go on in such terrible pain?
Is there any purpose, anything to gain?
Is it possible to avoid despair?
Why should I try why should I care?
Could I still be happy again?
If that happens, what then?
How long would it last, how long would it stay?
Wouldn't I be sad again the very next day?
This pain makes it hard to see the good and the glad.
All I experience is the painful and sad.
Still I get up and go through my day,
I guess because I know no other way.

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

My Thoughts Exactly

The dull knife of sad perceptions
The filament dancing in moonbeams
All the troubles of the weighty norms
The raunchy song of sea-faring men
The little that grows and the big that shrinks
All the tangles and knots and pinafores
The favored daughters of conscientious kings
The mannered ways of an aloof miner
All the perceptions of yesterday’s musings
The determined glare of an icy locksmith
The gladdening memories of alchemists well met
All the darning socks twisting in the hurricane
These are all and not enough just like a long life

Friday, November 25, 2016

I'm Here

Here I sit The pain unbearable
But I must bear it Must keep going Can’t stop
Sorrow practically choking me
I feel as though I could die from this oppressive sadness
But my heart beats I am healthy Hilarious
 I’m healthy except for my mind

Crippled It is laborious to type this
 Minutes ago reaching for the remote control was impossible
It was less than an arm’s distance away
I type slowly now Everything is slow Ponderous
My speech is as if I was on thorazine

Beyond On the other side
Somewhere else there is difference Away from all this
The ocean, the sky, the clouds, fog, sun, rain, wind and snow
It is there As are birds and bears and deer and snakes and dolphins and moose and chickens and sharks and scorpions and pelicans
There may be angels too
Perhaps ghosts
Life Exultation The spirit of being and doing and feeling
The soft the heavy the hard the light the more the less the this the that the these and the those and the everywhere and nowhere and somewhere and something and nothing
 The multitude and the solitude The quick and the dead and the slow and the alive

Stars Always Moons.Planets Comets
Great phantasmagorical wisps of delight and terrains of agony and mountains of ennui and seas of celebration
I can experience and be much more than can be imagined
The human mind It is causing me great suffering now but I dare to remember when this wasn’t so and I dare to dream of when it won’t be again
Though it feels permanent it is not
I am still here and I do not yield
Yes, I hold my head in my hands and it is heavy
The weight of a billion thoughts and so much aching and metaphysical, psychotic raging dancing preening posing positing perplexing plexiglass Glances and chances and prances and ports of shadows and wharves of mystery and piers of melancholy

Oh the human taste and the waste
The human mind and the unkind
The ruffled Tousled Blithering Blathering
Bayside yawning glimmerings of kaleidoscopic wonder and blunder amid the virtuous and sacred and the sacrosanct piles of puffery
Wailing past peach trees and into sockets of clairvoyance
These are times and rhymes and chimes and I’ms and youze but not booze Off that No no Not ever and never wherever and clever and blown up dolls of climbing those stars

Hands in front of face I look into eternity and see everything the nothing of all in the cornucopia of emptiness. Blah!

But I’m still here