Operation Restore Hope

Blackhawks rising
in the late afternoon
near the Indian Ocean
and the waters of Half Moon
where the invasion beach
without a passing thought
to the mighty swell
of brave men who fought
in Mogadishu
sits under a Somali sun
without arrogance
without a single gun
without ambition
to restore hope
for the hopeless hungry
as Rangers on their rope
found a white-hot scream
& the road to Hell
paved with good intentions
over the many lives that fell
in this alley of death
the market devoid of heart
each corner a dance with madness
exploding sanity apart

Louise Gluck

sad and strange off the range beyond the boundary fence where you rest with barely a lick of sense Louise Gluck sad and slick in your metered brain teaching poetry under the driving rain of New England where you stand with sharp words and fate heavy on a wounded heart the cemetery gate opens as you wander by closes when you shut one eye a skeleton with bones raw white rises to kiss your lips tonight

FOX NEWS

how is it possible
that FOX NEWS is not news
it's like saying green is yellow
& blacks are really blues
as consumers we must choose
look at realness dead in its eye
like a fundamentalist Sunni
who'd prefer nothing than to die
embracing his history of Islam
by making himself a personal bomb
& declaring his faith to Allah
how is it possible
that Pakistan is a military
and not a country
isn't this scary
considering their nuclear warheads
are out of sight
not out of mind
where is the Mullah who's said to be blind
who had fought the Russians
in Afghanistan
allied with the Taliban
who killed diplomats from Iran
and were honored
how is it possible
Omar is at sea
in the tribal mountains drinking tea
like the British in India
when empire was at hand
we need to understand

the county fair

it's a summer night at the county fair
& the old yellow bus is going nowhere
thirsty drunks in a party mood
drinking booze & eating food
kissing Mary Jane up high
waiting for her warm reply
on a football night lined up for scores
male touchdown runs behind closed doors
as Priscilla and her flower girls
show the party boys sweet natural curls
their hungry kisses a starving shout
& the big bad boys just hanging out
it's a summer night at the county fair
old folks watching from a wicker chair
Hillary's hand in little Willy's pants
before the homecoming game
at their high school dance
sweet Bill Monroe lying to his ma
about sucking up to big Betty's bra
it's a summer night in a church town bar
where the band is playing with an old guitar
their music louder than a wild drum beat
on a sweaty Friday in the summer heat

43

you were caught in the shadow between two lines
blinded by the crowd applause and couldn't read the signs
with arrows to infinity and a moon rise out the door
you told a waiting nation that you'd lead them into war
displaying fresh aluminum and biologic threats
with yellow cake and operatives as secret as it gets
in Poland and Iran or was it Brussels and Milan
smirking as the words emerged La Cosa Nostra con
the bastards at the Pentagon had hoped you knew the score
with little donny rumsfeld sucking madly as your whore
he whittled down the numbers and he sent Marines ahead
in a lightening strike surprise attack to minimize their dead
it was cheney and mr chalibi who lied about the scope
of opposition in Iraq to give reluctant liberals hope
yet no crowds of people tossing flowers on the road
as M1A1 tanks and troops in Baghdad finally showed
it's good to declare victory on an aircraft carrier deck
& then retire to Texas with a lone star on your neck

mother won't you

mother won't you hold me
now closer to your breast
let me cry before the dawn
before i empty this nest
before i lose my soul
on a downtown street
make a fool of myself
for everyone i meet
mother won't you know me
before i die
in a dead cold field
with this strangers' eye
looking at you
in a loose embrace
for the longest time
hungry in haste
mother won't you love me
won't you even smile
ask me to remember
childhood for awhile
won't you wonder
on this side of my pain
how it'd be different
if you did it over again?

the magical word

carmen san diego
jesus is coming to your world
with a long white robe
& painted colors that swirled
on Guantanamo beach
where life's an eastern Muslim peach
Koran & blood on sacred ground
the 4th of July a special sound
heartfelt & sticking around
carmen san diego
madness at the break of dawn
invading Afghanistan
in broad daylight & then gone
to where tribal warlords collect dope
Saddam swung from his bastard rope
& you've got nothing more to say
reciting Bible verses pray
deep into another fateful day
carmen san diego
the CIA hiding in your pants
close by the hidden exit door
with an airline ticket to France
flying from Beirut like an overripe fruit
the magical word is SHOOT
like a missile crazy from Iran
or a nuke from Pakistan
what can't you understand
carmen san diego
jesus is coming to your world

shadow on the floor

why can't you tell me what i've been missing
your door is simply never open
it's just a shadow that i've been kissing
on our dance step with electric feet
the black light searching for your smile
it's just a shadow that i meet
at night behind a tightly shuttered door
i saw you standing on my simple dream
it's just a shadow on the floor
i can't be lovin you anymore
someday i might pack my socks and shoes
find that ring i never want to lose
getting physical in a more physical sense
without the hold of a guilty fence
why can't you tell me what i've been missing
your door is simply never open
it's just a shadow that i've been kissing
it's just a shadow on the floor
i can't be lovin you anymore

God, what should i learn?

i'd really like to see
Tennessee
i'd like to live in an old house
with a rose garden
and a happy mouse
and a yellow kitty
full of pity
i'd really like to be strong
all day long
i'd like to have a gentle man
to understand
how i love living
and giving
and ask for so little in return
God, what should i learn?
i am the dragon and the fish
but this isn't what i wish
i'd really like to be free
of the illness holding me
be with Angel in a village store
i call my own and more
i would sip the moisture from a rose
and feel the red from head to toes
i would stay awake at night
read in bed by candlelight
with my lover strong and proud
together on a floating cloud
above us Heaven for a day
would listen as i pray
i'd really like to see
Tennessee

going home

2012 the Mayan bull
a fancy fad
more wool to pull
in a cinema
on November 12
then collecting dust
on a back lot shelve
while i walk the beach
with a friend of mine
in imagination
on sand so fine
the grains polish skin
rolling out then in
like fine wine softy
on a thirsty tongue
while the song is sung
one footprint before the other
as the wave comes crashing
a single walker dashing
to Oz and the wizard job
a long hard ride away
into a sun easterly
before the end of day
not the end of time

seasons

the seasons change
with a color in the sky
the foghorn blast
a lonely iceberg cry
and heavy mist
which shrouds the eye
the seasons change
with hard music overhead
the drum roll shake
an angry sound instead
of easy pause
& gentle dead
the seasons change
with a feeling in the air
the long goodbye
a lingering Hi there
which slows the day
suggests i care
the seasons change

zodiac signs

i can't find you
looking in gardens and trash
full of hurt & pain
empty of cash
& sun & rain
i want to have eyes
reflecting me
in honest side streets
and fancy free
sexy treats
i want to feel love
in a tomorrow kiss
or later tonight
with happiness
without the cat fight
listening to songs
between the lines
i'm looking for you
but finding zodiac signs
color me blue
i can't find you

The Maasi

The Maasi saw
from Kenya's land
their river falling
couldn't understand
the wildebeest
or the hippo
would die in this heat
with nowhere to go
without water
without a voice
dead indifference
leaving them no choice
great migration
sadly ended
while African tribes
in smoke decended
forests were cut
charcoal was made
cattle were grazing
without ancient shade
in an old land
with a new pain
without much food
without much rain

north of Tam Ky

The recon platoon
was in the bed
of a nearby creek
and still being led
by captain Joe
& sergeant Bill
but they had to stop
on a steeper hill
when they heard noise,
then rifle fire
and decided not
to climb any higher!

an air strike call
was being made
before advancing
with their base camp raid:

Happy Valley,
north of Tam Ky.

September 15th
Nineteen Seventy

J

Janice came from the government
one day uninvited
watched for movement undercover
didn't know what she sighted
people right and people left
before the party started
laughed at all her silly games
and fully felt lighthearted
while the champagne flowed with kindness
into a natural cup
the hosts were in a screaming mood
and couldn't drink it up
their Ritz was at capacity
so full the graveyard choked
as floods of refugees came past
& everyone got soaked.

Angel

you are the perfect angel
& i found you on a walk
when i was feeling loneliness
& didn't need to talk
my heart still needed mending
so i tried to find a pace
to slowly gather in your smile
& focus on your face
your eyes were like a fortune
in a treasure chest of dreams
i felt you whisper to my soul
it's everything it seems

Hanadi Jaradat

Oh God, give me a new death
let this be my final breath
as i pull this lonely pin
i've worn from my home in Janin
into Maxim's restaurant
so i won't die old & gaunt
in poverty and without a son
i'll be the 6th female to die undone
in my hijab for martyrdom.

October 4, 2003
on a jetty by the sea
Jewish Sabbath Jewish Blood
interrupted by a flood
of Arab hair & wicked sound
the 22 dead soon being found
children scattered among debris
cute, innocent, & free
never knowing killer Hanadi.

sea of dreams

your sweet lips
underneath my fingertips
taste this westerly world of mine
sipping skin sipping wine
on the softest summer bed
restful now to calm my head
roll me on this sea of dreams
life is more than what it seems
your sweet touch
underneath my need so much
dance with me beyond our star
holding close holding far
in the darkness of this night
satisfied by candlelight
hear me once more i love you
on our mountain top for two

more than matter

Nova should have taught everyone
there's more to Universe than math
& while religions scheme to monopolize
there's always more than one path
to enlightenment & ecstasy
the history of philosophy
& thought is a curious book
collecting soft dust yet a second look
would reveal the story of our creative arts
which emerges boldly from human hearts
and impaling minds with splatter
makes all existence more than matter

the lorraine motel

i had a vision of a dirty bomb
tear my head completely apart in Vietnam;
i saw the mushroom cloud explode in '45
Trinity was born!  i was barely alive,
fed a steady diet of black & white
watching John Glenn take his historic sub-orbital flight
into near space on a rocket ship.
he nearly died but i didn't know it,
hiding under the classroom seats
with Peggy Sue and her forbidden treats,
so near to touch but i'd have to wait.
i saw Kennedy get blown away
in his black limo on a late November day.
watched the flowers that people held
growing old until they smelled
like thousands of dead bodies in a distant Cambodian field.
i saw them & felt chilled
when Martin Luther was struck down
on a balcony near my hometown.
he was hit with a thud and bled and bled,
but it didn't matter what anyone said:
The Dream still lives, the body gone,
remembering the Selma bridge
hoping to see the promised land over heartbreak ridge.
and i heard Nixon really got pissed!
he put countless enemies on his list
& his White House was infiltrated by crooks
who to this day in countless history books
have an amazingly large asterisk by their name
believing Honor was just a fool's game;
it didn't matter that people died;
they still cocktail partied and lied and lied and lied,
believing until the end that God was on their side!
and i indeed saw their God walking across my rice paddy water
leading His sheep to another senseless slaughter,
while i cleaned my gun under the afternoon sun
and waited.

Black Mountain Fever

An autumn rust fell on a man's eye &
blinking with color, he wondered why
he felt so fundamentally certain
soon would appear a winter curtain
of three Earth leaves on a fine line
suspended in balance like soulful wine
which grows wildly in a wild ferment
of pebbles, shells, feathers all Heaven sent
to become the ying & yang and yellow Heart
renewing our journey from virginal start:
stranded in sand the planet cries
as the great horned owl sings & dies
a nocturnal dancer true to form
circling our world inside the storm.

comment

if you won't comment
NOW or then
as i sit like an ass on a spongy toilet seat
contemplating ZEN
in this room freshly painted
with odors of s(hit)
PRAY TELL ME
how do we GET OUT OF IT?
i need your ANSWER
HONEST or in disguise
give it to me shamelessly
& give it to me wise
where have you been hiding
as my discomfort becomes an ache
inside my heart and spreading
like little ripples across my lake

Ginsberg

Ginsberg saw the punch of heavenly insanity
through glassy homosexual eyes
across oceans of distance & nearing death
He wrote from his head the trade wind Howl
of demon smokestacks and collapsed cities
screwing a Buddha universe of astronomic atoms
where lived man who spit blood and broke heart
among hard machines made by hard machines
on a hard rock surface called a world
pregnant with firearms & hypodermic needles
in need of cash and the warm hot fix
of a thousand writhing angels in passion frenzy
Ginsberg felt this madness of america
& the naked copy world of cruise ships
underneath their starry night
with cots full of spent sperm and false hips
and wigs with plastic faces before He died
beyond a prison wall with His tender man
confessing eternal love within a loveless womb
powdered dry like the Sahara desert
without relief from suicide or happy June weddings
with happy cake & wall street traders
pumping for their gymnasium membership
when the dancing couple fell into their bloody hole
& found a habit without a nun attached
near the Harvard yard of nothingness
Ginsberg danced on His string of inspiration
with Beat poets studying the crowded beer hall
of ashcan lids craftily blown across the street
to where the Brooklyn Dodgers once had played
before an admiring crowd of immortal souls
in Ebbets Field the memories grow like Hell

B flat

little cindy was shopping on a friday afternoon
looking for a new mirror
with a border for her room
friend joey went to lend a guiding hand
and took along his friends
members of his high school marching band
dressed in blue uniforms and white boots
meant to generate lots of laughter
for shits & giggles & hoots
but their mothers never knew
ever though all mothers should know
what was really false & really true
where genuine love was genuinely found
no matter how hard the rains fell
or how slippery the ground
little cindy smoking pot with her tv
friend joey playing with his clarinet
in B flat for free
on a covered porch by a wooden door
where busy paths converge
wondering if there was more