Juan Gris

Juan Gris
tip toed into two bright shadows
when he made a
left turn on third street
looking for a healthy lung.
with a deep breath
by night
he began to dance the Charleston
after his paints had dried
and the French lessons ended,
but a good lung was never found.
his asthma became worse
and in piles of cubes he
arranged his brushes
for a final time.
his wife, son Georges and daughter Antonieta
thanked the Parisian avant-garde
for attending the funeral.

wounded knee

no, i don't like the new way you're
man-handling me
getting pretty sick of bending down
on my wounded knee
so i tried to pull the curtains down
before crawling into that crazy town
oh yeah
blood marked my solitary path on the roughest street
oh yeah
blood marked the soles of my sore feet
and no one that i wanted to meet
oh yeah
oh yeah
i found an empty bottle and it wasn't at all like you
it never tried to tell me what to do
so gonna take a long pull before i go to my next school
and someday i'll get a passing grade
all my dues will have been paid
i'll remember all the memories i've already made
oh yeah
i'll go my own way
looking for an open door
not interested in what you might say
i don't want to understand what it was all for
there might be parts of me still visible on the floor
no, i don't like the new way you're
man-handling me
getting pretty sick of bending down
on my wounded knee
so i tried to pull the curtains down
before crawling into that crazy town
oh yeah
blood marked my solitary path on the roughest street
oh yeah
blood marked the soles of my sore feet
and no one that i wanted to meet
oh yeah
oh yeah
i found an empty bottle and it wasn't at all like you
it never tried to tell me what to do
so gonna take a long pull before i go to my next school
and someday i'll get a passing grade
all my dues will have been paid
i'll remember all the memories i've already made.

Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine

in an open G
the sun beat down on my face
i walked through fertile rice paddies
without any hints of disgrace
the hard drumming
of my heart
a quick beating
a new start
a sharp cry
the sky
in a minor chord
with notes of perfect plum
and some
German hops
found in abundance on bar tops
the ceaseless roar
of a constant world war
put some hurt on me
and no musical balm
could provide complete calm
with the radio turned on
i heard Charley Patton
playing his spoon
inside a burning tent
Clark Kent sitting by his side
getting high in the phone booth
neatly dressed and never uncouth
i tapped my feet while wearing old shoes
beaten down with dirt road blues
on an American night
black and white
rich and poor
wanting everything but settling for just a little more
getting by on the fly
watching the kitchen sink
drain the last of my three a.m. drink
Chicago,
some said, was the only place to go
to feel the ease
but one didn't have to say please
in New Orleans
wearing sharecropper jeans
behind the last alley door
the dance floor
full of soles in 1929
when Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine
seemed a simpler time
to strum a tune
make the rounds
lean back
let the sounds
lick my face like a happy puppy might
yes, it wasn't pure delight
but close enough
to smooth the brittle rough
and one memorable chorus
or spoken line
when Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine
might bring visions of glorious Camelot:
sometimes it's all i've got!

it won't fit me

get me
try chasing a disappearing shadow
swim in the sea
cut someone off at the knee
take a flying holiday
visit Florida, say
fish in a back bay
stay longer than a day
wear a sock hat
grow happy, lazy and fat
it seems everyone is into doing that
write a blog in a mental fog
walk the local park in the dark
hold your own hand
snap an old rubber band
watch it break
a head and shoulder fake
but what is the most
buttered toast
is yesterday when you went away
from the west to the east coast
try telling me life is grand
but withstand
the cartoons coming on at noon
and the weather balloon
like a man and woman together on the moon
hear them swoon
get down
accept being a proper clown
but don't be telling me what to do
go wear your blue suede shoe:
it won't fit me
i'm barefoot in a solitary tree
entertaining company.

her own life

it wasn't a memory i wished to save
the crying lady folded in anguish
praying over an old man's grave
her sullen face and even sadder hat
i took a closer look
and then i sat
by her side there was a pretty basket of just-picked flowers
i watched her countenance for hours
she reminded me of someone i thought i once knew
and while her face looked familiar i didn't quite know who
she was until i heard her speak to the memory in the hole
she had such a gentle soul
soft light brown hair
i wondered how much longer she'd stay there
looking at me before she felt sufficiently free
enough to carry forward with her own life.

once Saigon

it was once Saigon
but now it's all gone
the muddy river slept and burned
and what have we learned
painting it black won't get it back
the body bags filled with Asian dirt
who said it wouldn't hurt
watching the helicopters at the embassy
the woman with her startled baby
grabbing the barbed wire wall
dodging shots before the fall
and all the President's men
in their white face
the conference table with expensive pens and fancy lace
and a perfect powder room
where the drunks sang delirious songs of doom
in the stone temple
the gods sat hard and cold
trading fates which could be bought and sold
in the parlors of the press
the readers were forced to guess
what in the streets of an American city
was real and what was witty
and on the television screen
cigarette smoke filled the air
in Vietnam the midnight sparkle
was a phosphorescent flare
and young men lived and died there
while in the Pentagon
it was once Saigon
but now it's all gone
when the flesh gave way to marrow
the cry was 'Broken Arrow'

the rising moon

there must have been a mistake
i didn't think you would climb the trees
but you covered all the higher ground
on bended knees
so, i put you in a temporary deep freeze
because you were too hot
you gave me everything you got
and there was no more room
you played my tide like the rising moon
pulled my plug like a slippery rug
there must have been a surprise
i thought you were grounded but your plane still flies
you did a loop while i ate your soup
you played my spoon like the rising moon
pulled my pork like a bobbing cork
there must have been a mistake
i didn't think you would climb the trees
but you covered all the higher ground
on bended knees
so, i put you in a temporary deep freeze
because you were too hot
you gave me everything you got
and there was no more room
you played my tide like the rising moon.

i didn't know what to say

with a sharp eye
and a soft frown
i walked with my friend
into the nearest town
and she gave me a little smile
so i decided to stay awhile
put my hand on her arm
meant to protect her from
any harm
but she told me
to toe the line
that she felt timid
and liked me just fine
and we had a nice cup of hot tea
at a small cafe
just her and me
and i didn't know what to say
the day became slow
the weatherman said it might snow
but i saw a blue sky and bright sun
she asked for another drink but i was done
we read a paper story and discovered a clue
i read her a poem and she didn't know what to do
so we went to the park bench and took a seat
i offered her a piece of candy to eat
she looked at me and said thank you, please
there was a gentle breeze
and it made her smile
so i decided to stay awhile
put my hand on her arm
meant to protect her from
any harm
and it felt comfortable and sweet
to watch people passing on the street
we waited for nothing at all
and soon we watched darkness fall
with a sharp eye
and a soft frown
i walked with my friend
into the nearest town
where we decided to stay
and i didn't know what to say.

everyman was a friend of mine

once upon a time
everyman was a friend of mine
in black leather pants
and white bow tie
man, he was dressed to fly
singing his lonely lullaby
with an electric guitar in hand
his strap pulled tight across his chest
the ladies didn't have to guess
what he had come here for
they waited by the back stage door
and they didn't want an autograph or a wink
cooked up in an old kitchen sink:
his music was turned down low
it was several hours after the show
and The Man had already come and gone
the party lasted well past dawn
before the police came looking for a score
the floor looked like the second world war
with blood and guts, cocaine and an old billboard
no one could shift from reverse into forward
but everyman was playing slow pin ball
with a red haired lady in his narrow front hall
he had a quick tilt and he had an even slower wilt
and she had to leave before five
she grabbed her purse and barely made it out alive
but everyman was scrubbing his wood floor
with a tattooed blondie who painted his back door
he had a wet sponge and an even drier plunge
and she had to leave before six
she grabbed her purse and left with all her tricks
man, everyman was almost alone
he had a dog who kept chewing his bone
and a cat who tried to talk but could only moan
the sun came up and the lights went out
no one remained to twist and shout
and soon the clock really hit six
everyman grabbed his red joy stick
he took it for a fast ride
man, that man has no pride
he had no one by his side
once upon a time
everyman was a friend of mine
in black leather pants
and white bow tie
man, he was dressed to fly
singing his lonely lullaby
with an electric guitar in hand
his strap pulled tight across his chest
the ladies didn't have to guess
what he had come here for
they waited by the back stage door
and they didn't want an autograph or a wink
cooked up in an old kitchen sink.

behind the curtain

and you went into my closet
behind the curtain
looking for something real
a piece of something certain
and what exactly did you find?
there was another piece of broken mind,
dust on the far wall,
an autographed baseball,
images of what i once saw,
and a cold cup of stale coffee
but nothing about me
nothing anyone could really see
and a strange wind blew through your hair
i said you shouldn't be there
and yet you used a bright flashlight
blinding in the night
a spot in the total universe
heading in reverse
analyzing the misery and the exhilaration
not curious about the destination
or the pathway to the nearest star
i sat wondering who you are
when you went into my closet
behind the curtain
looking for something real
a piece of something certain
and you gave as good as you got
just a little and just a lot
you wanted everything that you took
started out calm and then you shook
underneath the undertaker's sheet
growing cold before the heat
i probably shouldn't have spied
you probably shouldn't have lied
but what didn't we know that we should know
a little misfortune during the show
there was never another place to go
and you went into my closet
behind the curtain
looking for something real
a piece of something certain
and what exactly did you find?
another piece of broken mind.

i'm not looking for America

i'm not looking for America
Between The Buttons where it can't be found
i'm tearing off the handcuffs
because i'm refusing to be bound
you won't find me on the motorway or in the center of Main street
there's blood on the water and i'm wearing two red feet
i've decided to pack up everything and simply run away
on the evening of the morning at the break of dawn next day
and head to friendly Nashville where boys make a frightening sound
and the girls get awfully nervous but they keep coming around
and country is their music but it always seems alright
i'll try my hand at poker and no longer feel uptight
when the dealer starts to shuffle with the smile of Brian Jones
sadly framed above his table and a pile of rolling stones
i'll grab my surfing long board and swim to an eastern coast
where people say they're modest but often like to boast
they hear the laughing of young Alice and her disappearing ghost
now i'm singing for my supper and a fast-lane dollar bill
party-goers stay eating until they've had their fill
my sticky fingers hanging from tired acoustic hands
you might believe i'm a wise old guy but i don't really understand
what the famous magician has stuffed inside his sleeve
i'm thinking about now that it's time for me to leave
then i see a sweet young thing and she has her eyes set dead on me
maybe i should act expensive but i can be had for free
when a stampede of wild horses comes charging on the stage
i'm wondering if i can rope them back into their cage
but i'm the one who's lost and found and hearing random noise
lot of people getting ready to show me their favorite toys
a couple of formal puppets dressed up like a fine cartoon
of a newly married bride in white and her love sick man the groom
they're dancing on a fancy floor close by the exit door
where i awake as people ask for just a little more
and i feel now i'm past my prime to act my level best
i want to wear a three piece suit with a fancy cowboy vest
to leave this place a shadow and be an anonymous guest
i'm not looking for America
Between the Buttons where it can't be found
i'm tearing off the handcuffs
because i'm refusing to be bound
you won't find me on the motorway or in the center of Main street
there's blood on the waterway and i'm wearing two red feet
i've decided to pack up everything and simply run away
on the evening of the morning at the break of dawn next day.

Marianne Faithfull

Marianne
be faithful to me
toss your extra money
deeply
into the sea
come with me
in a fur-skin rug
along with the rabbit
and his marching drug
near St. Anne's Court
the thick lines white and short
where the homesick blues
wear like rich kid's shoes
so fare thee well my little dove
a much harder love
is hiding underneath our talk
shall we continue our walk?
it's on a slippery slope
much longer than the longest rope
if you think our relationship has been mended
the time of day has probably ended
oh, what you've been through
not many at all
in fact only a precious few
have survived
when the gardens and all the pretty flowers died
when
nights and darker days
parted ways
i can still hear you speak in broken English
running from your hospital bed
one more breath
is all that's
keeping you from being declared dead
shall we continue our walk?
it's on a slippery slope
much longer than the longest rope
if you think our relationship has been mended
the time of day has probably ended.