Pearl

Why did you die
after Woodstock
Oh, cry baby cry
take another piece of my heart
& pull it apart
'cause there's nothing more to lose
these damn summertime blues
so down on me
Pearl set yourself free
you mama of the microphone
with a voice like gravel and groan
get it while you can
& ball and chain
these memories remain
but they'll never be the same
no no no no no no no
sometimes i just got to know
work me, Lord.

white

i'm sorry if this is not
lava quick and hot
a monster to the core
but nevermore
as Poe tried to say
the other day
i wanted to woo
your skin slowly and new
from the left ear
where i whisper
to your smallest toe
touching as i go
inside to hide
if your nails are red
i'll squeeze instead
and if they're green
i'll know what you mean
and if they're blue
i'll know what to do
and if they're teal
i'll know how to feel
and if they're black
i won't be back
but if they're white
i'll have a bite
i'll want to smell your breath
before my death
be more than a ghost
like many or most.

Chemical Ali: morte/01/25/2010

Chemical Ali was not there
in the rarified air
at the summit of Alpe d'Huez
where a sign in French says
"Allez Armstrong"
go hard and long
he was often hung in the press
accused of doping i should guess
but never strung on the gallows as Ali
is soon to be
yet he seriously kicked ass
and would certainly out-class
most sports writers
playing pencil lovers dull as fighters
Chemical Ali will soon be dead
for what he did, not what he said
the ghastly gassing of the Kurds
an act of evil beyond mere words
innocent children and mothers
fathers sisters brothers
uncles aunts old middle young
poisonous clouds all far flung
by Iraqi Migs and French Mirages
no racing bicycle in those garages
thousands dead and homes razed
survivors stumbling in a toxic daze
while Saddam smoked his Cuban cigar
sipped bourbon inside his palace bar
holding perfect Kosta Boda crystal
and his famous Glock 18C pistol
Chemical Ali was not there

single time in Austin

it's single time in Austin
but i'm on a trip to Idaho
far from the hill country cowboy
who wanted to god damn know
"why won't you saddle up & ride me
the length of the mighty Rio Grande
far down the coast to Mexico
with a whiskey in your hand?"

it's singing time in old LaGrange
inside that outlaw bar
i should be wrapping up the final set
and warming up my car
but Texas boots are kicking
hard on this dance room floor
and tough men say they love me
so i'm gonna give them more
here's a western slice of Heaven
far from the city crowd
where the cold beer has been flowing
and the boys are Lone Star loud
no bull but lots of pick-ups
and bar-be-que and girls
in wrangler jeans and looking good
with straight hair or with curls

it's single time in Austin
but i'm on a trip to Idaho
far from that hill country cowboy
who wanted to god damn know
"why won't you saddle up and ride me
the length of the mighty Rio Grande
far down the coast to Mexico
with a whiskey in your hand?"

yellow jackets and a smile

i rode past a scattered pile of small stones
matted fur and bones
at the corner where a church
sits atop a holy perch
watching me pedal past
it can't last
i followed you up the silly hill
in an easy gear and still
i felt at ease
no pressure to please
i rode the path of least resistance
looking into the distance
and heard the sound of a guitar
in the passing of a car
single file
for a little while
i was a complete bicycle
a happy boy on his little tricycle
with a happy mom and dad
happy together and glad
on a Saturday afternoon
it ended much too soon
the day and the soft shifting of gears
no fears
just a simple wave to the departing tandem
which we came across at random
yellow jackets and a smile
mile after mile after mile

whatever happened to the dawn?

Fort Dix on the Jersey side
of the Delaware
i never imagined i'd be wandering there
in the summer of 69
but it was all mine
even if it wasn't yet
that i heard of Tet
when Marines shot their way into
the Citadel
which eventually fell
a flag rose with new blood
on an old pipe
and stars and stripes
and young men's gripes
and dust and smoke
so thick you'd choke
these cats came from Hue
with nothing to say
but were screaming inside their head
inside the body bags counting their dead
Tennessee smiles
thousands of miles
from the green hills of a country life
with a davy crockett folding knife
and a curly haired young lover with a name
like Susie or Sally or Mame
it could never be the same
for the Georgia boy looking for his hunting dog
after the war in his personal fog
without eyes to see
his family
the training they gave
never mentioned a grave
never talked about screaming at night
or the unsettled light of a hot firefight
there's no firefly on a cool summer lawn
whatever happened to the dawn?
or the boy from Alabama or PA
who lived to lock and load another day
along the watchtower
where the rice paddy and the flower
heard the helicopter shoot the moon
will it finally be over soon,
whatever happened to the dawn?

rush, oh rush

Rush Limbaugh is no fish taco
with a secret sauce and an aroma
to die for
he's a radio whore
nothing more
another fat bastard with a tiny heart
sitting in a sea of ice with a voice
like a flirt
he's a menacing hurt
famously curt
Rush Limbaugh is a scared bully
with a secret life and a mandate
to attack Feinstein
give him a dime
anytime
and watch that sucker dance
ants in his pants
and peanuts for manly balls
he's all jaws
and hot air for some empty heads
who listen still sleeping
in their morning beds

American History II

Teaching US history to a group
of students in 10th grade
and in spite of my best efforts
more than one began to fade
while I talked about Uncle HO
his famous trail and the Viet Cong
I wanted to chastise some kids
because it just felt wrong
to not give me the attention
I felt the war needed
so went on about Kennedy and Diem
until it was completed
the war, you know, without Japanese
or French mostly American boys
who would have rather been in the World
experiencing more pleasant joys
than pounding the bush and soaking monsoon rain
in an Asian jungle or strange ville
where Westmoreland saw his tunnel light
from a star-studded hill
while napalm burned flesh & scorched
jungle trees creating an American scar
which could be seen from C130s
dropping Agent Orange from afar
Yes it is an old war as wars tend to go
and lasted too long with many brave deaths
but i looked at my audience and heard
the many exasperated breaths
of bored distracted teenagers
this Vietnam War isn't a story
that they can appreciate for
the sacrifice and simple glory
once shown by a grandfather
an uncle or aunt
i mentioned the campus protests
but tried not to rant
about the Government or
the Tonkin Gulf Resolution or lying
my message was mostly that fine young
American youth were fighting and dying
in a strange world far away
and should be remembered and honored by high schoolers
even today.

Haiti

i'm not sure why Haiti
seems to receive all the bad news
but at Port-au-Prince a horizontal fault
ripped churches and tossed pews
collapsed hospital walls
trapping people inside
many screams could be heard
many people have died
10 miles west and 5 deep
magnitude 7.0 preliminary
the poorest country in the sea
needing more cemetery.

Fox hires what?

Palin hired by Fox News
owned by Rupert
not by Jews
Going Rogue going swell
one rich lady
far from Hell
with stylist clothes and smiles
no Levi creep
Anchorage trials
a pretty face and sane
without a doubt
or a brain

hanging with your picture

i am hanging with your picture
to make things appear clearer
but it's been another cloudy day
and all the girls have gone away
is it too late at night to get a fast bite
just checking out the drive in
my fast car burning out it's engine
smoking past your outstretched arms
woman working all her charms
i am hanging with your picture
to make things appear clearer
but i just want to ride my bike
so don't ask me what it is i like
is it too late at night to get a fast bite
when it's always in your eyes
blueness like the clearest skies
my motor running like a power jet
roaring across your radar net
i am hanging with your picture
to make things appear clearer
but standing tall on my tallest ladder
reaching for something to make it still matter
is it too late at night to get a fast bite
have your kisses turned to ashes
a flirtatious wave of your eye lashes
down this path that now i'm walking
i hear it said all you do is talking
i am hanging with your picture

islamic jihad

islamic jihad
the olive and the fig
marilyn covering herself
with her blonde wig
and the wind uplifting
desert sands shifting
from east to west
catching the crusaders
acting like invaders
their red lips bleeding
like a manhole cover
with a teenage lover
and an honor killing
south of southern Beirut
Davy Jones's loot
hiding in a dead man's chest
islamic jihad
the saudis and their spear
flying on an airliner
with packages of fear
happy New Year

sweet world

in this sweet world
with crowds stage right
you scream in fright
throughout the night
your face set tight
while i tell you
don't venture there
into dead air
it's never fair
a devil's lair
you should hold me
when no light's on
every one's gone
darkness and dawn
you are the pawn
full of empty
and they hate you
never rate you
disseminate
but i need you
and there's more news
meant to confuse
nothing to lose
how can you choose
sober or booze
apology
or symphony
you're wanting me
in this sweet world

crazy love

i want to ride you
like the titantic
pull you down
into pure panic
split you into two
like an iceberg on a hot bed
dress you in red
feel you bleed on my face
come on baby
i want another taste
of crazy love
while i'm sinking
and thinking of
looking up and what do i see
but your ocean pushing down on me
you're my tidal wave
i'm your passion slave
i want to be free
of your fingernails digging me
into crazy love
i want to ride you
like a speeding car
toss your heart
into my candy jar
split you into two
like a hunger in a hot tub
something to rub
feel you bleed on my face
come on baby
i want another taste
of crazy love
while i'm sinking
and thinking of
looking up and what do i see
but your ocean pushing down on me
you're my tidal wave
i'm your passion slave
i want to be free
of your fingernails digging me
into crazy love

at Christmas time

at Christmas time
cool eastern chill
a middle school rhyme
for a buddy's dime
atop Renaissance Hill
and the ocean bay with a younger lover
deeper undercover
with a Rolex on her wrist
lightly kissed & missed
not in the very least
a woman as the fabled beast
swimming in finely heated lust
serves a tender healthy bust
on an early morning plate
upon the finest linen beauty
sapphire, diamond, and a ruby
near the sensual Ivory Coast
with warm and tender buttered toast
eaten well before seven
breakfast treat a dish from Heaven
dreaming of a distant Dolomite
and pasture cows and a star lit night
at Christmas time

your eyes

the snow surrendered without complaint
to my foot weight
into the deep woods
i ventured without you
sometimes without myself
but what was i to do?
a coat was already wrapped tightly
around my shoulders yet nightly
i slip in darkness
with hot invisible breath
sometimes a silent beating death
like the cold of a lonely winter afternoon
shakes me like a sharp wind
and i fall but arise again
i wish you were here
with a snowball in your hand
the smile a blizzard on your face
your eyes the light of galaxies
illuminating my space

the healing arts

Rose &
the healing arts
like healthy little darts
penetrate the fertile ground
pulling ego full around
to face an unpolished rushing sound
of bold reality
so completely amused
body and mind fused
still often lightly used
and Self now free to claim
grounding as its newest game
while all the fingers and the tongue
the old & still wet young
all of us being among
those experienced or naive
some wanting to stay or maybe leave
now YOUR song shall be heard
without a silly random word
yes Voila! It's totally and utterly
BLISS
to never ever have to miss
this moment in sweetly passing time
DIVINE, you're simply fine
it's all sublime

Mein Square

Trafalgar square
still royally there
with tourists and fanatics
wearing turbans
speaking freely
like Horace Greely
on the Place de Concorde
while the champagne is poured
into spirited eyes
of African immigrants
on their European shore
near the Plaza Mayor
the fantastic Red square
much older than Times square
where a terrible Ivan
and the post Romanoff brood
look westerly and linger
with caviar on a jeweled finger
at Piazza San Pietro
and tame pigeons that flow
past Roman Catholicism
eating discarded food
from a cobbled stone
where once had shone
the sun on Alexanderplatz
in Berlin where Hitler rots
with Eva and despair
like hope undone still turning
the Statue of Liberty
without a hint of ambiguity
her torch held high
in Rightfulness toward the sky
the Sons of Allah knife
your treasure and your life

cooking class

when it rains it pours
she said
as though it were easy for Lance
to win multiple Tours
but she meant men
wanting affairs of the heart
or the breast and implore
i listened just to be sure
while she spoke of loneliness
all day throughout the night
then eventually stopped actively
looking for Mister Right
when surprisingly all Hell broke loose
because she grew a certain vibe
which felt attractive to male
members of our older tribe
and they swooped in
grinning a grin
she said you find true love
when you're no longer looking
so recently it appeared
in her kitchen cooking
with a widower and his spoon
coated with a rich pasta sauce
adjacent to the Pinot Grigio
and the hand rolled noodles tossed
carefully with mozzarella cheese
he spoke so convincingly, please
pass the olives
no he didn't snore
and what is more
he proved genuinely pleasant
their next meal will include
wine, of course, with greens, and pheasant.

who's there?

who's there
if my mind is empty?
across the green hill
on an island of mystery
where my full weight
rests on the faire ground
of Scotland or Earth
cacaphony, total sound
while time forever bent
under the runes of life
tugs my sweet sorrow
from temporal strife
Witnessing! Witnessing!
but not the Holy Ghost
wandering inside my head
this fine mysterious host
with seconds on his wrist
hours on his face
what have i missed?
my eyes invited inside
his jacket long and flared
this King of the Underworld
gone before i dared
toward where once he was
i stared:
who's there?

take home pay

i love the smell of napalm
in the morning
even when sometimes
without warning
it doesn't taste like victory
or even sound like death
before a certain final breath
there is still the stare of danger
in the sunlight
or when the screaming
begins at night
i see a bullet in the air
like a heated curse
pointing a finger
at my thin verse
and splitting a head apart
then a heart

Obama

He wasn't on the Thunder Run
and didn't dodge an rpg
at Larry, Moe, or Curly
when the firing was intense
but in Afghanistan
north of Kandahar
more Marines are
sent to serve in our defense

milosevic

milosevic
was doing what he thought was right
but horrible fright
and rape camps
stamped across a young girl's eye
she wanted to die
he wanted to be an ultra nationalist
and create an empire
a simple narcissistic liar
and a mass murderer
with a driven wife
who had a complicated life
changing opinions everyday
killing afternoon teas
with sugar, please
torture in the mountains
skeletons found
underground bound
broken arms around the trees
holding dead babies
with sugar, please

Assad is now in Moscow drinking

nothing here about GOD
or evangelicals or even Mormon polygamists
in southern Utah with a child bride
nothing to hide
behind or conceal

as i age while attempting to heal

Assad is now in Moscow drinking:

what is he thinking

as he looks constantly over his back

for the assassin who's job was to track

the tyrant to his grave

this is not meant to be a blog
where i'm preaching about myself
or nature or Earth
it may in fact have no worth
& i'm okay with that having already fought one war
in Vietnam a long day ago
which now feels like a shadow

before the twin towers fell and ground zero cast a spell
deep into the mountains of eastern Afghanistan
when i didn't understand
the CIA 

or wall street executive pay

no, this isn't about food or being intentionally rude
& not about global warming
or locusts swarming
or how mankind has finally found
freely & unbound
his soul and his Redeemer

i am not the schemer
nor will i use sleight of hand
to lead a lonely hearts club band
into my small white town

Damascus has fallen down

and the Mosque tower is now calling

the faithful to prayer

is there enough for all the Middle East people to share?

but there is nothing here about GOD

OR maybe there is 

and it's everywhere,

which only seems fair

after the many many years of terror and bloodshed.