Friday, September 28, 2012

Lawless Freedom

America, she's a bad teacher i think
America, she says, to be free,
we need to pulverize
our perceived enemies,
bully our neighbors,
build impenetrable walls
and trust no one

then, says she, we'll be free

but i've heard tell of an illegal freedom
secreted away on some hidden island
and my criminal mind
goes in search

i wanna be float kind of free
beyond the reach of the
outstretched hungry arms,
anchor free and rootless

me, a skipping stone to Jupiter
and if i miss, i miss
me, diving a green depth off limits
only to find, there in the still shadows
i can breathe anew

i wanna fly as the eagle flew
before the machine of Wright
to glide on clean wind
with not a human in sight

past the rules of engagement
and wall streets cold bricks
high above promises broken
and the hurts i can't fix

laces to chains,
petals to thorns
i stepped into the snare
and turn on the spit

my hope has heard of an illegal freedom
written on the walls of dreams
and it's out there somewhere
looking for me to rescue

Monday, September 24, 2012

The Tree of Life

once, i knew the love of a tree

i hadn't been looking for it, i don't think,
i was just walking away from something
that had left me cold, empty,
and without direction

and there it was-
a tiny tree alone in the midst
of giant redwoods

it's fragile limbs were shaking
and the leaves seemed to wave to me
so i took some rest
against it's sturdy trunk

we came to know each other
me and this beautiful tree

sometimes i would feel the sap
rundown my neck like the balm
of Gilead as we commiserated
and i would rub it's roots that pulled me near

after a time, it let me carve my initials
in it's skin while it sang to me, and then
it dared me to climb it's limbs
to know it's touch, so i did

i went to this tree often, to be held,
and when it would see me coming
the leaves would glitter and change
colour, which i took for happiness

it shaded me in the searing heat
sheltered me in the fiercest storms
and gave colour to a life
that had turned grey as stone

i gave it nothing
but my need

one day i went to the tree
and found the redwoods weeping
along the trail
and my heart sank in knowing

there where it should be
it wasn't
just a crime scene
of a horrible senseless murder

this hadn't been a clean cut
this had been a brutal killing

the lifeless stump had been mutilated,
limbs lay scattered where they fell
and the leaves of vibrant colour
were now the black of cold rigor mortis

my tears fell in waves
as i looked to the helpless redwoods
and asked,
who could have done this awful thing?

as they silently looked away
i looked down
to the bloody axe
held in my hand

Friday, September 21, 2012

the gods must be crazy

know ye not that ye are gods?~Bible
i do not understand how one can own land~an ancient
get the hell off my yard!~clint eastwood
kill never, die if necessary~the pacifist creed
you'll have to pry this gun from my cold dead fingers~charlton heston

I'm told barbra streisand owns some of the Atlantic ocean and the way to it.
No? just try to get there through her gate! And she's threatened to RPG any nosy helicopters tryin to spy on her old wrinkled ass while she's peein. Guess she owns the air too.
And I guess ted turner owns all the buffalo and wyoming where he keeps em, and won't let me in to pet the damn things.
Larry Ellison just bought a Hawaiian island. Yep, all of it. A golfer's paradise but you'll never know.

When did human beings go crazy?
And me too.

It seems to me, that if i plant a field of corn and a hungry stranger passing by needs some, they should be free to shuck as they need, but my no trespassing sign says different.
And if one lost in the night passes by and needs to use my bathroom, promising to flush, that should be ok. But my two loaded guns by the bed say different.
You so much as creak the boards on my porch at two am and I'm blowing you into fertilizer! There's crazy meth heads everywhere, lurking like zombies wanting to rape, rob, and kill.
Ain't takin any chances. Lock and load, full rock and roll!

I used to hitch hike and pick up hitch hikers cuz one of us had a car and the other didn't. Made sense. OMG what a fool I was! It's just lucky one of us didn't kill the other. Now I know better and I glare at those no good lazy bastards as I zoom by.

I don't own a home now, but I've owned a few, or so I was told by by the man who held the deed.
It didn't feel like I owned it, and I had a hell of a time leaving it, so maybe it owned me.
My cat strayed into my neighbors yard once and he blew it to kingdom come because, after all, it was HIS yard.
My other neighbor shot bottle rockets into my pool so I shot a bazooka just high enough to miss his party, but they sure hit the ground fast when they heard the KABOOM!
It was sell or prison, sure as hell, so sell I did after fixing my roof, rewiring with blue instead of white, moving my septic, finishing the basement, and re-roofing cuz the guy at city hall said I had too, so maybe he really owned it. Beats me.

I knew a woman who sold her house she thought she owned, and before the new inhabitants moved in, she sneaked over and dug up all the flowers and ran off, cuz DAMMIT! they were her flowers!
Can people own flowers? Are we running low? Aren't they drilling for flowers somewhere?
I always thought just watching them grow was the joy and how nice it would be for the new people who thought they owned the house to have flowers.
But fuck em! mine is mine and get your own damn flowers!

I just heard on the radio today, that when they fired off the first A-bomb, they didn't really know if it would blow up the whole world but said they knew it wouldn't, and that we shouldn't worry. And when they set one off in the ocean, they promised it wouldn't blow a hole through the earth, but now they admit they didn't really know if it would.
We hear things like this and still believe them when they say don't worry.

So I'm voting for Willard cuz Rush says if we let babs and ted keep their tax breaks we can own islands and states too! (I want utah, but with buffalo instead of mormons)
And Rush wouldn't lie to us about Willard.
Who's Willard? you mean you really thought his name was Mitt? No, no, no! That's just a folksy nickname he uses to fool us who can't pet ted's buffalo in ted's wyoming, or pee in one of bab's twenty bathrooms on the way to her ocean.
I mean, really! who would vote for a guy who has the same name as a killer rat, when you can vote for a guy with a name that makes it sound like he spends his free time whittlin flutes on the porch?

When did we go crazy?

Monday, September 17, 2012


we used to meet, down there by the river
the moon would rest her lazy elbows on the bank
and sigh drunkenly, while the crickets turned to whisper
and the willow, swaying in close, pretending
there was a breeze

sometimes we met out there on the tracks
near that trestle over the forgotten gorge
where the eagle glided to our talk, wondering
why the clouds slowed their passing

down near the beach, deep in the woods, high on the cliff
it didn't matter the place, nor the hour of congregation,
every one-everything, stopped to listen, wanting only
to be a small part in the magic between our words,

it was a once in an eon thing and everybody knew it;
the gods gone silent so long ago, the God of gods and
all His angels long quiet in the sleeping of bored repetition
knew this was different than top 40 pop and mythical bullshit

i knew it too, (did you?)but held back my declaration knowing hubris
would bring it all down, knowing treasure attracts thieves,
and knowing as well, we were just damn lucky
to have found such a miracle at all

the moon is now the moon again, snoring high in the sky,
the trestle rusts in December snow, and the Eagle
has moved on with the clouds

the gods too, winked and moved on, knowing close
doesn't count and humans will forever be human

wild bets wagered on the underdog were paid off
from a purse full of spare moments and Ryan Seacrest
survived while the ancient of days called His band
of angels back to heaven

since that time, if time it even was, we have followed
the rules and exchanged 1,234,837 words between us

but we haven't said a thing
and everybody knows it

Friday, September 14, 2012

A Wild Ride

Monday, September 10, 2012

the good stuff

here, take a drag on this

nah, you're not doing it right,
i mean, shit, it's not like it's
gonna bite you!

now take a big hit

feel anything?

see, ya gotta breathe in deep
fill your lungs
let it permeate your soul

and it's ok if it makes your eyes water sometimes

but it only burns hot
when you take it in deep
and the hotter it burns
the sillier you'll get

then you'll want it more
til it becomes a need that cures

see that girl over there on the dock?
yeah, the one with her feet in the water,
her head full of sunshine, her mouth
full of smile

she's doin it right

check out that guy over there,
the one sitting under that tree
commingling with the moon
whoa! there goes his heart!
flyin away and he doesn't care

or that chick up there on the cliff
pirouetting while the bluebirds
dance around her song, ready
to catch her if she falls

now that's some good shit!

oh oh, look at that guy on the freeway
screaming out the window, cursing today,
worryin about tomorrow
and blaming yesterday

he got a hold of some bad shit, man
don't share his bag no matter how
freely he gives it

ok, ya ready?
now inhale deeply

second hand smoke?
that's the whole idea.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

The Lady and The Pirate

You see, it's like this;
i pissed away all my stars
into the river
while you were downstream
panning for gold

didn't you feel the warmth,
as they brushed past your thighs?

and when i found you sullen
by the wishing well
your eyes full of want
and heart full of hurt
i wished only for a penny
to bolster your belief

but  i'd spent my last copper
at the county fair
on clay milk bottles
that never fall in threes

and of course,
that threw my arm out
and those flowers
i meant to gather
because of the bear
i failed to win
had long since withered
before i was able

it was all so silly, wasn't it?
my dyslexic attempts
to adore you

for you see, the stars of heaven
were always in your pocket
and you weren't at the well
for wishes, but for resolve

as for the bear, well, your arm
was always better than mine
and of what compare
are bluebells and lazy susans
to the flower you are
blooming in the morning

so you see, my love,
my precious morning flower,
I'm glad i failed
for my victory
would only diminish
the beauty that you forever are

a pirate is a pirate always
meant only for the gallows

one who would hock the fine silver
as you slept, and when you awoke,
you would find only bloody footprints
leading away to another storm

so my Love,
success was never an option, as
you were meant for things much finer
than ten cent bears
and the glitter of pirate
piss stars in goldless rivers

and now,
my only gifts remaining are these,
my surrender, and my love
that shall never wither
nor impede your journey

Monday, September 3, 2012


Plato's got nothin on you, Sir
you with such need to be seen
waving from a paper tower
and that only,
so you can look away

they bathe in your feet
these star struck pupils
while you spin Emerson
and Whitman in chambers
that echo like your soul

up to the gods you call
saying, send down the light!
and this for your gather and dispense
for the plebeians, they must be fed!

and bite they do, these fish
all pooled, while taking care
not to notice the line
while swallowing the bait

you who scratch wisdom's beard
and confer with the mighty oak
while teaching rivers which
way to swim-
are full of shit

from up on high
you bang your fist
and bellow, clarity!
clarity! and more clarity!
to your subjects

but the darkness runs deep
and the webs, they do spread
when night comes to call
in the hollow of the day

and the voices you hear
the ones you reject
speak a truth
in shades just between
creation and reality

now i watch the parade
and you in your coach
while obeisance is slathered
from those on the stringer

and i say in a whisper
with a sad knowing smile
the emperor
has no clothes