the Taj

don't tell me about the bird song
when you could possibly be wrong
and i have no way of knowing
if it's ego you're showing
in a show business sort of way.
what more can i say?
my palm has lines of coincidence
and it's been that way ever since
i was a little boy.
so are they some devilish ploy
to have me think of vanity,
an insult or an insanity,
an artful attempt to hide the clear
or a ploy meant to be insincere?
don't tell me about the Taj Mahal
when you know nothing at all.

Eros

my raft upon the shore
sitting here i need no more
no Pound or TS Eliot
could allude to what i get
while i'm thinking of you
it's what i was born to do.
all my tears for your true face
& i find it no disgrace
to sit silently for that sound
which informs you've been around
behind dark curtains of despair
where i'm gasping now for air.
my raft upon the shore
take my torment like a whore
then bring a glass into my sight
filled with stories of pure delight
let me drink a real romantic glow
it's no fun being in love with a shadow.

morbid obesity

where do they get these asses?
do they all just buy them at a store?
i don't remember seeing so many waddle
as they maneuver through the door
sideways in some extreme cases.
i guess the idea of exercise has vanished
since i can't find it on their faces.
certainly the excess food must swell
like an ocean wave for miles and miles
& make their comfort level HELL.
roll upon roll of human fat
sags and sways from this to that
no rhythm in any hip hop sense
this flesh is cold & thick & dense.
has modern beauty redefined its' part?
can this weight be good for a normal heart?
and how does one fill a tub with water
knowing blubber like a carcass to slaughter
will enfold the pores and hide the dirt?
just using a towel has got to hurt!

dreams

i saw donald duck on a saturday afternoon
as my neighborhood friends came over
to my birthday party with cake and a blue balloon
in a high chair strapped with a ribbon about my waist
i saw my mother run to catch a cab
& forget to love me in her haste
but no worries here before our song
that we've practiced between playing games
so absolutely positively nothing can go wrong:
Happy Birthday bouncing from the concrete wall
hit Jerry square in his flat forehead
and was the singular cause of his downfall
into Vickie who dropped her party dish
and laughing ran into the backyard storyboard
to steal my birthday wish
but i was faster than she by far
slipped out of my big shot party chair
grabbed that wish by hand and jumped into my car.

breasts beware

she appealed toward me with eyes
already rolled & i saw white
"Mr. Brown is a creeper," she sighs
and tries to be polite
but insisted his stare was really weird
he seldom took his glance away
it concentrated on her breasts, he leered
seemed to calculate what they weigh.
then i watched him lick his lips
as the girl passing left the class
his eyes bouncing with her hips
& settled on her moving ass.
Shouldn't the school give Brown the shove
before he confuses his lust for love?

SouP

Sue left her face on a library chair
while she talked among her students
with her freshly laundered hair

She left her man & cried angry on his pants
which didn't fit her anymore
and made it hard to dance

Marriage bed a cold asphalt road
washed away with the summer flood
and became her heavy load

Sue left her face on a library chair
while she dreamt of another day
but she didn't find it there.

Cheney's chant

Dick Cheney was the 46th Vice President
but his mind was seriously bent
on killing and torturing fiends
but it isn't exactly clear what he means
talking about waterboarding
which isn't as easy to understand as hoarding
your cash savings under a bed
it's no longer a question of being RED
or anti-communist
no, it's about national interest
against simplistic rheortic
and it's the electoric
who should decide whether or not
an Al-Qaeda plot
deserves a nuclear response or a surgical strike
let's better reflect on what is right
about America and not swim in this ocean of fear
and run to mommy GOP to make things clear
there is nuance in the world outside
& danger lurks in words that lied

The Penny Loafer

I once was a penny loafer discarded in a city dump
left soulless and without a shine
tossed away by a friend of mine.

I once was a soldier with some pennies in my hand
twenty three to be exact
and that's pretty much an actual fact.

I once was a traveler who looked into the face
of personalities and a great storybook
and gave equal to what I took.

I once was an victim of a roaring on the sea
but scrambled to the shore
momentarily then went back for more.

I once had a teacher tell me all he knew
of philosophies and demons in the head
but he became ill and soon was dead

I then was an artist who painted with his eye
and wanted to create a magnificent poster
found a city dump with a penny loafer

Which would represent all the journeys of mankind
I thought it an anthropological find
since it had no soul.

empire strikes back

royal blue fell on my face
and i wanted to sample a tiny taste
but the proper way to take that sip
was to develop an honest relationship
with the color of truth.
you can't hide in a circus booth
pretending to be a certain clown
with a white face & red frown
collecting money from passersby
who expect everything is a big fat lie.
royal blue with black high heels
and laughter are my favorite meals

in cold blood

Truman Capote
like a wild coyote
stalked in for the kill
and saw a man die
pretended to cry
then had to fly (to New York)
for a book review.
what else could he do
with a drink in hand
& 4 murders to explain
three shot in the brain
1 throat slit in pain
it was a tough job for a man
with a cigarette in his hand
to gather all the facts
for a compelling story
but he thought of the glory
and the killings were gory
& he needed the cash.
what he did was brash
but a national best seller
came out of that cellar
and then he was famous.

cards, anyone?

in the time of yesterday
when i didn't know what to say
i saw my knocking hand on the door
my crumbs on a living room floor
i crawled into the Trojan horse
paid NASA for an interstellar course
and showed my ass to Kathy Lee
with pants dangling around my knee.

then sometime after the war
when i didn't fit in no more
spreading leaflets i went away
a beard i saw who had bent to pray
started walking in my crowd
but quit when someone talked too loud
He sat down on the nearest curb
and started smoking a fragrant herb.

i figured if even Jesus Christ
couldn't hope to catch a break
i'd farm on a communal land
in the country by Moose lake

there you seemed so unselfish
when i opened up to you
and your female sensibilities
were helping me get through

but i hated when you made me drink
got me drunk so i couldn't think
then took advantage of my bust
and ravished me with all your lust.

think it's funny how you took a bite?
used me for your toy that night
and when i asked what are you doing
you smiled and kept up with the screwing.

so years have passed and i've been around
to hide where i can't easily be found
i hope you're happy with that piece of me
and remember how much fun it seemed to be

night vision

night vision goggles
won't let you see into a soul
but they will help you spy on someone
or make a kill once the sun has set.
they are made to be light
fit your head comfortably
and enhance an image
so the advantage is yours, in theory.
green is the color humans see best
and it's not envy
so if you're hiking
after dark
on a moonless trail,
are worried about the footing,
wear a pair.

7 mad lovers

i have seven mad lovers
naked in my bed
a backpack with a sleeping bag
and a pillow for my head.
a book with all the secrets
resting open on my lap
is my favorite source of knowledge
with it's history and a map
which points the way to Paradise
but i might not want to see
(since i'm feeling pretty decent now)
all those memories chasing me.
i have a glass in my right hand
filled with scotch and ice
and a deeper appreciation
for what it is that's nice.
i'm writing when i need to
and about things socially
without exaggeration
i can say it truthfully
there's never been a finer time
to write it down and smile
and i'm hoping i'm the good old boy
who sticks around awhile.
i have seven mad lovers
naked on my nose
a vision of a painted eye
and a pencil for my prose.

wave rider

i was riding in a 30 foot yacht
dropping over the giant wave
when i saw my face in reflection
and realized i didn't shave
i reached down for my cell phone
which was hanging from my belt
and called my stylist in new jersey
about the whiskers that i felt
but my sail was causing problems
and had to be withdrawn
because the winds were whipping stiffly
and would continue til the dawn
so no connection could be made
as i scrambled to my feet
and furled that sail in record time
to a hip Jamaican beat
i slipped down to the galley
and found supper cooking there
then i closed the hatch and rested
with wet clutter everywhere
i felt the current warming
when i hit the Gulf stream flow
and set the autopilot
to tell the boat which way to go
then in the morning dawning
i saw the rudder true
not much sleep the night before
there's so much more to do
this ocean is relentless
it never tires as people will
& weather is always changing
so the challenge is the appeal.
i know i'm not like Lindbergh
nor is Paris on my mind
i'm heading for the Mediterranean
and a destiny to find
and you?

night time river

the night time river
where all our quiet tears flow
where dreams that failed are found
and lonely people go

the night time river
down by a midnight shore
that used to be my hiding place
but I can’t get there anymore

there’s no safety for my broken heart
or our romance come to grief
this pain caused by your absence
can never find relief

the night time river
where my voice is heard by crying
into an empty room
for lovers' with a broken heart
beneath a broken moon.

the night time river
where all our quiet tears flow
where dreams that failed are found
and lonely people go

May Day (SOS)

one kid focused
the remainder totally hocus pocus:
"Hey teacher you red-butt monkey
I WANT YOU to think for me
work for me, too
i'll use you like my rambling shoe
think i'm dumb?
i'll just suck my American thumb
why should i even try?
i don't care about the how or why
of anything you think cool, dude.
am i acting particularly rude?
i don't care about your favorite history skit
and that's totally it
except for my own personal pleasure
'cause honey baby that i can measure.
now listen i just heard the bell
so adious mister school house hell
it's time to leave this prison ship
and show my friends i'm more than hip.
Peace out."

off-piste plunge (re:ski)

when i push away from a lonely lip of snow
in the high Rockies of Colorado
and the open space beneath my feet
drops like a savage tempo beat
the sensation of falling
is not appalling
but rather wild and sweet.
i totally surrender to the flow
of gravity and the word is GO GO
and the number is unlike any 9 to 5
because i'm perfectly alive
and confident
not sad and spent
but rather dance and dive.
an abandonment of all common sense
and rules of the human road, hence
the great rush of supreme delight
released like an escaping kite
only natural law
can affect my fall
but i stand upright.

young time

when i was young
neil armstrong was in training
to explore the surface of the moon
if it wasn't raining
a time when lennon was alive
because mark chapman hadn't flown
from that island in the pacific
to kill a man he hadn't known
yes it was fun to dance at Camelot
& imagine being a mouseketeer
singing with walt disney's voice
for all the kids to hear
when i was young
white keds were on my feet
and i couldn't have considered
the different people i would meet
a howdy doody played by his string
or soupy sales as manic as a clown
playing music to rock around the clock
as long as Elvis was around
my Doors weren't just for opening
& simply pot could make me high
while tinker bell in never land
was spreading faerie dust to fly
when i was young
men still cried i didn't hear
and worked two jobs routinely
with no pampering or fear
a time when i was totally naive
like now the hubris blinding
so that fly balls in the outfield
were the secrets i was finding
when i was young

Lynden Gallery on Market

so i went to an art opening
at the lynden gallery
in etown & many people came out
including Luke and Mallory
whom i hadn't seen in about
two years or so plus Lisa
the owner was there
with her beautiful raven dark hair.
Ned Wert was the artist on display
(i met his sister & her fiancee)
and his works are now largely abstract
hanging with red as the predominant shade
i was gasping at the numbers as fact
then noticed several full prices were paid
but it was simple since the mood was so good
to be friendly and feel that you should
in this fire hall converted to art
just mingle and fondle a heart
drink wine, eat crackers, and cheesy
to imagine that living is easy
here is original stuff as it should be
poking holes in the idea of normal
a space which is happy and free
relaxed and certainly not formal
so visit.

another day in Paradise

i watched a teenager play with her hair
using an index finger
during a film about anxiety
but it didn't linger,
moving to her neck just to scratch
a small batch
of pimples.
i watched her fidget then roll her butt
on the surface of the chair
but she acted oblivious
and didn't seem to care
about my adult impression
during our talk about depression
which ensued.
in fact everybody was ready to leave
as soon as the bell announced
& had most of their books in hand
as assignments were pronounced
but ignored them.

reading Hemingway

the campfire burned a bright flame on top of my hunger 

i hope everyone knows by now:

we're not getting any younger;

thus cold time sitting in the freezer calls my name! 

it sounds like geezer 

while the cod on the cape has lots of wealth & ladies stroll the beach for health 

but i can't go there with my head of hair 

and share 

that dream of paradise 

it's a lump of coal a chunk of ice 

an alley with an deep dead end 

and you're dumped there without a friend 

without a lively book, no color on your face 

that you didn't paint or trace 

but this appetite on my tongue isn't a hangover from when i was young 

the hard surface feels like a passion which persists beyond any passing fashion 

as sun brightens the fire and burns the wood 

it lingers in the bones and makes them feel so damn good 

running full face inhaling air swallowing embers and playing dare 

reading Hemingway reading Crane 

thinking youthful shit with an active brain 

dancing to a temptress's song 

and trampolining naked is never wrong.

resurrection

i rolled the dead body over
in the street so i could see his face
blue like the brilliant sky
and i wondered why

but time wouldn't wait for my thought
to coalesce around the fact
that this bicycle rider has died
and i should have cried

but pure instinct and good luck
carried my mouth to his
and the hard chest compression
made a very good impression

call 911 lady and do it now
i shouted as she gawked
at me pinching his nose
and tickling his toes

yes, the emt said, no pulse
and here's my zapper on his chest
lean back and watch the graph
hold your breath, don't laugh

okay, got something, let's go
as the police paved the way
and the ambulance raced for life
now i had to tell his wife.

well, damn, it can be said
i brought a buddy back from dead
it's official he now can state
i didn't look around or hesitate.

so today we rode together
easy as an Apache feather
it's been six months and a day
since his wife fell down to pray

tally BAN

the creepy psychopaths
who disdain baths
i mean where in the hell
can they go for the smell?
wearing the same stupid rag
on their heads like a tag
from department stores
they not only kill whores
they kill love
and presume to judge
without a nudge
from a human conscience.
just this once
i'd like to have the power
to erect a prison tower
and stuff all these assholes
onto long spiked poles.

take the 12th century
and shove it mullah.
of shit you are full a
& you're screwing our hope
you slimy dope
and i don't mean to be funny, honey.

little etown

once
and for all
we played little league ball
on a dirt field by the little creek
and little girls would peek
we rode our bikes at night
on the sidewalk, in the street
and people would speak
we watched the band marching
and could touch the clarinets
as good as it gets
we ran in the local creeks
splashing water and turning stones
finding helgamites and bones
rode the pole in a fire hall
watched the milkman call
danced in the square
had very short hair
knew peggy and sally
knew every alley
everybody knew you
and what you do
ice skated the pond
loved and were fond
swam in the quarry
never a worry
before color tv
just you and me
sneaking at night
halloween delight
cards and the table
ruth, alice, and mable
chocolate smells
back yard wells
small town living
generous giving
howdy neighbor
do me a favor?
name it.