“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN:
Listen to the words hidden here
as they roll of my tounge...”
Easy as the moon glows
The river certainly knows
I have no form.
Blinded by the fright
Seduced by the night
Drunk by the riverside
Saddened by the news
Oppressed by their views
A nation dies in agony.
Wicked in the east
We must kill the beast
Laughing in all of us.
When will words come?
When will I ever learn?
You can’t get anything worth saving
without risking something.
Or everything.
All of my poems are Daily Sucides.
Rebirth can only come when all thoughts are
Words--Birds in Flight.
Can anyone forgive me now?
Can I resolve my past?
Can you?
Can I?
the dog is foaming at the mouth,
big, ugly, sniffing at my feet,
begging, worshipping
Part II: “Calling to the young...”
The radio is moaning a thousand songs
calling to the young:
“Forget what you’ve learned
Or what you’ve been taught.
It’s not too late to turn it all around,
To find a new way or answer.”
The world is on fire,
fueled by the red sun.
I will not go. I will not go
‘till I’ve had my fill.
To awake in a strange house
the dogs
Children playing with guns
Ancient artifacts
The television newsman is talking aimlessly.
Telling tales of the men who made him.
Dying man on amusement park ride
Maggots eating at rotting eyes
“Will someone stop this thing
and let me off?”
On the end of town
lives a reptile in love with a shrink.
They said he robbed a convenience store
and shot the cashier.
Do you read the news?
Ride the current
The electric wave
A shock to the system
Awakenings
I am a rock’n’roll poet.
The preacher is leading his flock to the sea.
Who will tell them they will all drown?
But the children are in the know.
They sense he is unreal.
Part III: Radio Nites
Radio Nites
City of Lights
Hazy recollection of past impulses
Stoned
Poetry
Death games
That Day At The Lake
Nights we made promises sure to be broken
We escaped through the neighborhood
on the way to the mall
And shot the bird at the slow-going car.
Now and if I leave this town
(from which I was born)
Who will know me then?
Who or what shall I be remembered?
Men of Wisdom
Wanderer of Souls
Grant me my one wish:
That those who knew me will...
Death is life’s ultimate safety haven.