the Russians are coming

i heard the Russians are coming
but i don't know what to think
i'm piling up everything at my front door but the famous kitchen sink
and i can't speak their lingo
what is the best way for me to go?
there's a angry crowd to my left
an angry mob on my right
and i was gonna be with my old lady tonight
but things are spinning out of control
i see Russians crawling out of a big black hole
and i'm about to run to town
don't know if anyone will still be around
but i need some bread and milk
maybe a bottle of good booze
hell, what do i have to lose?
they're probably at my back door
and i'm here at the grocery store
there is no way i'm heading home
maybe i should go skiing
i can't believe what it is i'm seeing
so do i run to the beach
or is it already out of reach?
i heard the Russians are coming
but i don't know what to think
i'm piling up everything at my front door but the famous kitchen sink
and i can't speak their lingo
what is the best way for me to go?
there's an angry crowd to my left
an angry mob on my right
and i was gonna be with my old lady tonight
but things are spinning out of control
i see Russians crawling out of a big black hole
and i'm about to run to town
don't know if anyone will still be around
but i need some bread and milk
maybe a bottle of good booze
hell, what do i have to lose?

Coco

i saw the girl they called Chanel
she loved both food and wine
and lonely artists who often didn't seem too well
but she was a successful seamstress
who made a living from her tight knots and jersey stitches
while she wore a little black dress
and a wild French hat designed to look like a Parisian celebrity
in her very early days
she took a lover whose name was Igor Stravinsky
for a night they made piano music on the stage
while she adored his fine notes,
his character and gentle playing of each page
and like a prodigal son his fingers had an angelic grip
with intelligence and special charm;
she held him tightly afraid that he might soon slip
yet he wasn't the only affair
who gave her little hot body attention
others lavished time and ample financial care
their physical qualities meant less to her
and humble origins were allowed
as she traveled from orphanage to designer fur
with a daily fondness for injected morphine
yes, she became a daunting woman who had a taste
for the companionship of poets who made the scene,
and of Grand Dukes and progressive art books;
she coveted Pierre Reverdy, a Surrealist,
in spite of his slovenly Napoleonic looks
and held him closely as he grew old,
a lay monk in a monastery,
proving that loyalty in friendship was her favorite gold.

the Second Battle of El Alamein

was it in Orlando
or the depths of Bryce Canyon
where the Desert Fox escaped battle
with his fluffy German tail blown high by the
chasing dry winds
of an angry British bird-of-prey
who was in constant pursuit?
well, i can't recall
the title of the book
with yellowed pages
but it was filled with stories of an African war campaign
which erupted along the sleepy coastal towns of Libya,
with nearby Cairo blazingly hot,
where the great Egyptian Pharaoh,
buried deeply under sand,
was at rest, thinking of his loyal friend
Apollinaire, who was last seen
with a shrapnel wound to his head
driving to Naples
inside a battle-scarred Sherman tank,
his artistic manifesto
tossed poetically on the dashboard.
his tank was destroyed
at the Second Battle of El Alamein
but not before
his great contributions
to erotic novels

were found in the burning ruins,
only a few of which have been read
by his friends in Paris.

did you know Picasso

did you know Picasso
on the streets of Paris
with a brush and a blond
was looking for immortality
as i was
floating on the main canal
of Venice
with my umbrella and a beer
looking for Saint Mark's Basilica
and the hidden tomb.
he went directly to his studio apartment
to paint the girl
while she sat in his
favorite chair
with her tongue fully extended.
i went to a famous dealer
looking for a Picasso to purchase
and found the blond wearing a
small black beret,
her nose shaped like a
Spanish penis with a wide smile.
i finished my warm beer
while negotiating for an agreeable price,
but everything proved to be beyond my reach.

With A Measure Of Grace

with a measure of grace
i went outside and took in the view
and the world sped by at its' normal pace
but i thought only of you
and the wishes we found at the bottom of the clear blue stream
they appeared to me yesterday in a fantastic dream
i drove my Self the edge of the nearest shore
where i sat to drink a bottle of blood red French wine
and like an idiot i immediately wanted more
but everything i wanted i knew would never be mine
you came to me like a soft wind with the stars in the night sky
i felt comforted when i heard you inhale and sigh
you told me a story and i heard you spin a tale
now, it can be told i listen best when we are in bed
there's no judgment with a kiss to pass or to fail
if all the preceding words spoken are truly said
there was a stone in my walking shoe
i reached down to hold it in the palm of my hand
but i thought only of you
and how hard it is to come to grips and take a stand
there is a come and go with how we honestly feel
with what we try to hide and what we openly reveal
i saw the lights shining on your face
the reflections keeping me spell-bound by the door
you asked me for a spoon and took a hurried taste
and like an idiot you immediately wanted more
down by the raging waters i pulled out the stone
you took a hard look and started off for parts unknown
with a measure of grace
i went outside and took in the view
and the world sped by at it's normal pace
but i thought only of you.

i wanted Marilyn Monroe

i wanted Marilyn Monroe
inside my pup tent
but she had her own silly ideas,
and firmly threw back the front flap and went
off to the Screen Actor's Guild.
i grabbed a 20th Century Fox sword
and an armored shield,
headed to a noisy bar room brawl,
past the open back door and down a narrow hall
where i heard about the slaughter at Verdun;
what had been done?
i felt naked without my whiskey and smoking gun,
tried to stiffen my spine;
felt an empty wallet and knew it was mine.
i had my own special fun;
she wore her Superwoman's cape.
i roped her to a folding chair
but she made a circus escape,
living the expatriate life on the west coast,
older by a decade than most.
i wore my cowboy hat and a deep frown,
her silk scarf and a princess gown
and had a little in common with the boys
who kept coming around
at twenty until four with their favorite toys,
leading me to flee to a bohemian camp fire!
i sat on the sign that said 'Worker for Hire'
and fed the two happy dogs
who were guarding the seating area logs
in exchange for a soft pet on their head.
i laid down in my straw mat bed
and dreamed of Marilyn Monroe
holding her skirt above a blast of hot air:
i imagined myself there
but she still said "No."

the pretty cottages burned

it's his fault
no it's hers
locked in a cold vault
with the famous furs
in order to get ahead
in the rental house sleeping in a silent bed
proceeding with great haste
it was a very gay time
regardless of the apparent waste
it was never called a crime
when the pretty cottages burned
it was simply a lesson learned
in the hot summer hours
and in the snow
dry wilting flowers
at the Philadelphia Art Show
for several hours each day
people lined up eager to pay
and it seemed a small price
to see brilliant colors turn pale
to watch the melting ice
receding on a giant scale
it was impossible to know what was thought
when they opened the gifts they bought.

shake her live fruit tree

it's easy enough when you know
playing in fourteen part harmony
she was looking good from head to little toe
and i wanted to shake her live fruit tree
but i had to grab her by her truck
she gave me a little squirm
like a famous Hollywood Hills drunk
i wanted to hook her like a glow worm
she asked me to take a second guess
ah, i heard her breathing on my Hawaiian shirt
as though we were on an afternoon recess
could i be sure this wasn't a school yard flirt?
so i asked to play hardball with my new Anna Bell Lee
she tossed me her softball
i hit it as far as anyone could see
over her head and down the shirt of Jerry Hall
and i wanted to shake her live fruit tree
a police car came to a screeching halt
we were dancing in the street
she told a cop it was my fault
but he started to shake and tap his feet
it's easy enough when you know
playing in fourteen part harmony
she was looking good from head to little toe
and i wanted to shake her live fruit tree.

what should i think of the wine?

what should i think of the wine?
or the stain on your blouse or
the hush in the air when i lean in for
another sip;
and looking beyond the fragrant garden,
the mountains in the distance
seem close enough to climb;
there is a special quality of life found
on a plate of fine cheeses
with garlic and the sweet smile on your lips;
in every detail there was pleasure
on my dinner plate
with your hand in my lap;
the beautiful clothes were well worn
and less perfect than your eyes;
you have things to do
as i
to make life tolerable
as we continue with our meal
thinking of the absolutely unreachable
seemingly alive and oh so temptingly
near.