Vice Verses
A book of rhymin' crime
From the poet: Lori Yett
Copyright © 2009 by j guevara
All rights reserved.
Smashwords Edition , December 2009
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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What readers and critics are saying ....
“Not since me has poetry suffered such indignity...”Ali
“I didn’t think it possible, but j guevara has created through Lori Yett, an alter ego as sick as he...” Gatewood Galbraith,Gov. candidate, Ky., legal marijuana advocate
“Fuck you and your book...”Author’s brother
“After reading ‘Vice Verses’ I’m sure I made the correct decision...”
Barry Rossinoff, author’s agent (former)
“I beg the world accept my most heartfelt apology...”Author’s mother
Preface
If I said I wrote these poems, I’d be stretching the truth. Other than some song poems in my musician days, I’ve never written poetry. Actually, ever since Miss Pontiatoski made me memorize ‘My Love Is Like A Red, Red Rose’ and recite it to my 4th grade class, I’ve sort of hated poetry.
However, one day in the jungle I woke up with a poem ruining through my head (A Storm In Any Port). It bugged me so much that I couldn’t fix breakfast until I wrote it down. Not knowing much about poetry, I wasn’t sure what I had, but it looked pretty good. The next morning there was another poem …and another. Sometimes they would come to me in the afternoon, and I’d have to stop what I was doing and write it down. They didn’t always come at convenient times, either. Try explaining to someone in the middle of making love, or to someone helping you pour concrete, that you’ll be right back as soon as you get this poem on paper.
Many of the poems seemed to draw on my life’s experience, however, often times they were on subjects I knew little about, or current events of which I couldn’t care less. Where, I asked, were all these poems coming from? The name, Lori Yett popped to mind, thus an alter ego was born. Lori and I developed quite a rapport that lasted the better part of a year. Then one day she went away. To bad, Lori was a lot of fun. I don’t think she’s gone far because I can see her influence now in my other writing. No doubt, if enough people like what she had to say, she’ll be back someday…
Until then,
Namaste,
j
Bliss
I moved to the real jungle
Time to try something new
Once I realized what we call ‘...a jungle out there’
Is actually a zoo
Built a thatched-roof house for easy care
‘Cause handyman I ain’t
It’s got no walls so the breeze blows through
And I’ve got nothing to paint
Lawnmowers make too much noise
Disturbs the tranquility
S’when the yard needs cut I hire Manuel
And his quiet macheté
Had a jeep but it was too much bother
Though I never drove it fast
Left it where it stopped
... The day it ran out of gas
Used to listen to VoA news
Yet, I didn’t really care
Only tuned in to remind me
Why I’m here and not there
One day it dawned on me
This was not good for my head
So I pitched that radio down the hill
...Besides, the batteries were dead
Got no electric bill
No metered kilowatt-hour
Eight panels and parallel batteries
Provide free solar power
A water bill is also
Not my concern
Rainwater’s free,
But you gotta dig a cistern
Got a dog named ‘Dog’
And a cat named ‘Cat’
And a parrot I call ‘Shud-up’
Yep, keep it simple, don’t wanna get caught in a rut
Don’t watch sit-coms, season specials, cops, lawyers or crooks
When I can lay back with no commercial interruptions
... And read a good book
Don’t need to wash sheets and pillowcases
Or make the bed
Much nicer to swing all night
In a hammock, instead
Beans ‘n rice are easy to fix
And it’s a healthy cuisine
When I get bored, need a change
I switch to rice ‘n beans
Picked that mango tree clean last week
Got everyone I could find
‘More than I can eat?’ you say
Ever heard of mango wine...
Got coconut trees to climb
If I need to quench my thirst
And a stalk of bananas ready next week
...If the monkeys don’t get there first
There’s no Fox, Cinemax, ShowTime
Cable access for me
Just as well since I don’t even own
A black and white TV
How can anyone exist theses days
You wonder, without Internet...
I ask the same thing every evening
As I toast sunset
‘But everyone can’t live like that’, you decree
Yes, I gotta agree.
It’s a big responsibility
To be free...
Epilog:
Politicians are talkin’ phone lines
Like they’re my friend
Sounds to me like all they’re talkin’
Is the beginning of the end
You can’t fight these mobsters
With their political graft
It’s called progress and like god
There’s no stopping its wrath
Poles will go up with all-night lights
Another paradise will be gone
No problem, I can put it all in one backpack
And move to the Amazon
In Search Of The Ultimate Truth
From Big Bang to Ying Yang, you name it, I tried it:
Astral projection, Childhood Rejection, EST, Seth, Chess,
Primal Scream, Wet Dream, lost soul, Pentecostal,
Macrobiotic, Embryonic, Sufi, sushi, Rolf, golf,
Numerology, Scientology, and every other –ology from astro- to zoo-,
Naturopathy, Herbal tea, neuralpharmachology...
Like Weed, speed, LSD, peyote,
Spiritual Improvement, American Indian Movement,
Deist, Atheist, Evolutionist, Creationist,
Nichiren Shoshu, shakubuku, Go, nam-yo-ho-ren-ga-kyo,
Biorhythm, Inner Child, Primitivism.
Nordic Runes, rising moons, 2nd coming, morning running,
I Ching hexagram, Amnesty International, Oxfam,
Tae Kwan do, Aikido, judo, sprouts and other rabbit food,
Kung-fu, jiu-jitsu, granola and tofu too,
I walked the plank of Ultimate Truths
When illusion vanished, the fads out played and I stayed, undaunted
Left with the knowledge that everyone has all along what counted
There are no shortcuts for none are needed
The distance between your head and heart is not that far
Cliché
Couples are not in fashion
A partner is not a lover
‘Tis now more romantic for this ‘Item’
To each have a ‘significant other’
With one televised Watergate testimony
Of John Dean’s nauseous repetition‘
At that point in time...’ overnight replaced ‘Then’
Was anyone paying attention...
Another standby
Will soon be gone forever
Since ‘having said that...’ is fast overtaking
The convenience of ‘however’
Of all the irritating speech
Nothing more irks my disposition
Than that idiotic, moronic, imbecile up-talk
That turns every sentence into a question?
And let’s not let the poet off the hook
So one beget sense vexed nary
True poetry must commence bibliophile to delve
Cimmerian depths of dictionary
Poetry is what people scribble
Who’re too damn lazy to write right
Hey, buddy those’re fightin’ words
Yea, to poet it is sonorous verbiage integral of ill-refined pugilistic smite
Remember when shell shock was treatable...
Remove soldier from exploding mortar
Not since shrinks – sorry, I meant analytical psychiatrists– changed it to ‘Syndrome’
Oh yes, a classical case of ‘Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder’
Journalists, forsooth, kidnap grammar
While editors comb accounts for best lead
As they wittingly switch verb to noun
So subscribers can have a good ‘read’
How easily we once handled circumstances
Seldom overreacted
But that was when we were only ‘affected’
Now we’re seriously ‘impacted’
Politicians, local to president
To protect popularity rate
Skirt clear intentions with no apprehension
And weasel with ‘Indicate’
Excuse me Mr. White House spokesperson
But what action will be initiated...
“I’m sorry, weren’t you listening?
I said, the president has clearly indicated...”
And who let baseball’s terminology
Turn nightlife into a funk...
Good ol’ reliable Ed, 20 years AA
Is now a ‘designated-driver’ for us drunks
I didn’t want to bring him up
But I gotta
Steinfeld outta be hung for replacing ‘,,,on and on’
With ‘yadda yadda yadda’
We even resorted to foreign delineation
To term the silly things we say
Since ‘trite’ wasn’t intelligible
We stole from the French ‘Cliché’
A Storm In Any Port
It’s the looniest ship I ever sailed
What’d I expect to find
Once I pulled anchor
Left firm shore behind...
Sailing the ocean is scary
Which is why ‘Offshore’ has been defined:
Out of:
Sight of land
Your mind
Especially with no compass, charts or sextant
One prop had a broken screw
And, to make matters worse, could one imagine
This ship had no crew
It did have many strange gizmos
Plus the damnedest contraptions
And who in maritime ever heard
Of a ship with two captains...
It’s easy to fantasize
Though hard to keep afloat
In spite of romantic visions
It’s not the ‘Love Boat’
Her ballast was not enough
To keep her right adrift
So when she took a starboard wave
She had a mean port list
In shallow straight she’s treacherous
Doesn’t handle with ease
You’d do better maneuvering
The Exxon Valdez
In a storm, I’d damn the torpedoes
Throttle full speed ahead
But the other captain demanded
Another course instead
I explained to this Captain Bligh
We’re headin’ for disaster
There’s never been a ship
That can serve two masters
But we both had equal experience
When it came to this sea
So we couldn’t agree
What makes you El Capitàn
Ahead of me...
However, the more we’d navigate
The more we’d cooperate
And appreciate
Aye, aye, mate
In certain storms, I found
The other captain usually knew
The best way to get around
By the same token
I’m the one best at fixing
Anything that’s broken
I’m also program director
For games, contests and more
I always win, never lose,
...’cause I also keep the score
The other captain is gifted in the galley
Which any fool could see
When I make raviolis
It’s gourmet Chef Boyardee
It took some time to figure
What each of us knows
Although we’re still working it out
And stepping on each others toes
We both find it difficult
A source of constant frustration
To come to a conclusion
What exactly is our destination...
To me it sounded terrific
Why not sail the South Pacific...
But the other captain insists on knowing
Which islands in specific...
We do agree however,
No difference near or far
S’long as we lay on deck at night
And count each falling star
There’re still plenty of storms to maneuver
No weather’s always fair
And this ship keeps me busy
In constant need of repair
Aye, it’s hard work, but worth it
So when my tour of duty was done
I had to admit rough times
Were far outweighed by fun
I know I’m probably out of my mind
But I re-enlisted for a permanent trip
On this rickety old boat
Someone aptly named
The HMS ‘Relation’ ship
What Does Tomorrow Hold...
I ride hard with the Cisco Kid,
Lone Ranger, Tonto by my side
Saved that ol’ miner 49er, darn claim jumpers
No time to rest, gotta head up another Cimarron cattle drive
My MX-3 breaking mock-4, that’s a roger, tower
G-force, face about to tear,
I don’t care
Not afraid to die
Push the envelope, right stuff
I’m the first to touch the sky
My folks died on the Oregon Trail
Shawnee raised me as their own
Rode my pinto bareback, hunt buffalo
Sworn to secrets only braves have known
One morning Blackfeet sneak attack, confusion
Somebody gotta act quick; I take command
Big ceremony, many dance
I’m now called Chief Mighty Hand
Thought he was fast, that gunslinger
Too bad, I warned him first
There’ll be others lookin’ to notch their reputation
Bein’ Marshal in this dusty cow town gives me a powerful thirst
Cut inside, flames, engine’s overheatin’
Ignore pit wavin’ me in, left tire drag
Final lap, I overtake him on north field turn
And catch Indy’s checkered flag
You’ll never make it, son, warned the Commander
Smoke’s too thick to see
I fight the blaze, no regard for my own life
Come down hook ‘n ladder holding that woman’s baby
Last huddle, three seconds, down by four
Fake right, pump left, guard missed block, knee didn’t touch ground
Reverse field, wide sweep, gun sounds
Dive, leap, higher, ugh!!! Touchdown!
Seventh game World Series
Bottom of the ninth, down by three,
Bases loaded, two out, 3-2 count,
Comes down to pitcher and me
Home crowd’s not confident for good reason
I haven’t had a hit all season
It’s his best fast ball, keep my eye on it, smack! the bat cracks
Don’t dare look, take off like I’m shot from a gun
Suddenly I hear the announcer scream,
‘...going, ....going, ...Gone! Home Run!’
The javelin was my worst event, I barely won
The Russian thought he had me, on that grueling 1500m run
In the end I was decathlon’s gold medal winner
With a higher score than the famous Bruce Jenner
I kept my pride inside, the coach was more than pleased
It’s great seeing your picture on a box of Wheaties
The engine’s super-charged, high-injection, aerodynamic, my secret cycle design
Even Evil Kneival said I’d lost my mind
I hit the ramp full throttle, the crowd’s roar fills the air
Cleared Grand Canyon’s north wall
Don’t tempt this daredevil with your double dare
There’s no problem I can’t handle
Ain’t nothin I can’t do
But I better get some sleep ‘cause early morning
My Mom’s gonna make me go to school
Road Dawg
No time to change these sweaty clothes
Travelin with the same twenty guys
Another all night bus
C’mon, gotta ride,
...and ride
..and ride
Hope he stops for gas soon
‘Cause I gotta take a wiz
Get a Clark Bar, Coke ‘n peanuts
Hooray for show biz
Can’t believe I missed that cue
Where was my mind...
I’m never behind
He sure as hell didn’t miss it
I got a ten-buck fine
How’s Pickford do it
Sleep sittin’ up...
The difference between an old road dawg
And a road pup
Close your eyes, get some rest
Hmmm, like a tuning fork, tires sing
No, the money’s not great but I gotta admit
It’s exciting
Still keyed from last show’s adrenaline
Damn, that man can carry a song
Can’t, and don’t want to get it out of my head
Here comes the crack of dawn
Where’s the next gig,..
What difference does it make...
Crowd’s the same
Tickets all sold
A city by any other name
Hope we get there early
Lay back and relax
Get a clean room
Hell, the whole bus could use a bath
Be nice to have some time
Grab a descent bite or two
Not sure, though, if the next town
Is where I found Aunt Fanny’s BBQ
Surely he’s gotta pull over soon
Maybe alongside a Denny’s, Sambo’s, Ho-Jo
Run and place an order, he’ll gun the engine
Better make that to go
Man, that was great last night
Laid ‘em out on the floor
Crew had us packed, we moved out
They were still yellin’ ‘Encore...’
Cute little number eyeing me, front row
Had that sassy look, loose hips
She knew I was lookin’, too
Now that I think about it
She’s the reason
I missed that goddamn cue
The man’s right, you got a job to do
He don’t ask for much...
When those lights come on
‘Get yo’ head outta yo’ ass
And those groupies
Don’t look, don’t touch’
You better believe it won’t happen again
Not sayin’ I’m somebody special
But playin’s got less to do with talent
And more with bein’ professional
What’d that sign say, ‘Mile High...’
Now I remember
Been a long time, got a lot of friends
It’s a fun town, Denver
Last time there I called Budgie, great keyboard man
‘Hey Budgie, what’s happenin’ bro,
Cool if I drop in and blow a note or two?’
‘You crazy man, band took the night off,
‘Cause we’s all comin’ to see you!’
Played our asses off that night
Blew like I hadn’t in years
Gets the blood flowin’ when you’re performin’
To an audience of your peers
Budgie’s gone now
Fell asleep at the wheel
His right hand could stretch two octaves
While his left blew bass your grandma could feel
‘Crutch’ Crutchfield was another one
Guitar man built for soul ‘n song...
Wore panty hose to induction
He sure beat the draft
Who knows he might still be alive
If he’d gone to Vietnam
Buddy Burrell, a brother with a kick beat
I defy anyone to stay in their seat
Got caught in a lover’s crossfire
Another drummer six feet deep
Dona, when she ‘d hit that note
Sparks fly up your aft
Pusher man sold her some bad shit one night
Damn! I miss her, but hey, that’s in the past
Musician’s know
The road takes more than one kind of toll
And music’s not a profession
Known for pension
Yeah, Stub, I’m still awake
No, I don’t wanna play gin rummy
Besides, you can’t afford it
I already took your money
‘You ever play Vegas?’ he asks
‘Yeah. Toughest audience you’ll ever meet’
‘You got that right, bro, ain’t none of ‘em
Takin’ a break from a winning streak’
Hey, check out that billboard
‘Bout time they put up somethin’ new
One Nite Only – Sold Out! –
R&B’s hottest revue
No matter what, there’s nothing like it
No more thrilling sight
Anytime you look up
And see your name in lights
Sure, it’s nice to have a packed house
There for no one else
In truth, though, it’s all about the music
You’re really doin’ it for yourself
Think about how you played
The days you weren’t backin’ some name
Hole in the wall dive, nobody payin’ attention
You still blew the same
All right! He’s pullin’ over
Looks like we’re here before noon
“Gentlemen, the boss is tired of smellin’ yo funky butts
He’s feelin’ generous, so he’s springin’ for the rooms’
Ah, hot bath and I get to stroll all day
But generous my behind
He’s paying for the rooms with our money
Comes out of those fines
Clean clothes, smell sweet, think I’ll go downtown
See if anyone’s around
What’s this...
Where’d she go...
Wha’chew mean Aunt Fanny’s gone...
No, I don’t want your grand opening discount Coke and Whopper double ¼ pound
Can you believe that
Who would guess
The preservation of my nostalgia
Is no deterrent to progress
Yeah, baby, I’m with the show
How’d you know...
Caught us last time we were here
No, I ain’t doin’ nothin’...
Your place... Sure, what the heck
Got a few hours to kill ‘fore sound check
How ‘bout we pick up a couple T-bones
And a pint of Chevis Regal...
Can’t tell you the last time
I had a home-cooked meal
The dressing room’s a strange place
Every player’s got a different way to go
Some meditate, some run scales, arpeggios
Each his own, gettin’ up for the show
‘Okay, pay attention’ manager interrupts, ‘we got some changes
Make tune two, number four
And the boss says tighten up that horn section
Here, take a look at this new score’
‘Man, it’s all in concert key
We gotta sight read and transpose
Would’ve been nice to see it
With more than 30 minutes to go’
‘I know life’s a bitch’ he agrees
‘You got a right to fuss
That’s why we’re payin’ you so much’
‘You know dude, I thought it was rumor
But you really do have a sense of humor’
‘You checked out front, Pick...’
‘You ain’t gonna believe it,’ he replies
Aisles, seats, front to back in every row...
They’re already screamin’. You ready?’
‘No problem, bro, got my body satisfied today
My minds wired to go’
‘Heads up, let’s move out gentlemen
Fifteen minutes to get set for this date
And the man don’t wanna hear no crap
About fashionably late’
I love workin’ with Pickford, he’s shown me a lot
Blows funk with soulful finesse
He’s the one they call to get the job done
Best back-up man in the bizness
Every show it’s our personal tradition
First we setup our position
I look him in the eye, he looks back at me
High-five...
‘Take no prisoners, baby’
The Ocean Of Creation
Creativity is but an energy, a sea of imagination
Where waves of inspiration roll gently in time
...To the shore of your mind
To beget this energy of inspiration with expression abound must be found
Precision concentration, and then beyond
... Thus the key to creativity
Less abnormality all can concentrate equally, no secret specialty
So to reach the wonder of creativity
... Must in all be
With precision concentration attained ‘tis no time for refrain, satisfied yet unmystified
For there’s one mission more to do
...Relax, let self emerge through
Once one finds this location of cosmic ocean, creation in currents’ motion, float freely in its influence, experience. Let confidence be ground
... know you will rise not drowned
Like a magic carpet ride, thoughts no more shy to hide
Frustration nay abides in mind as it flies
...Fascination is the destination
Though none is manifest ‘til perceived, be it Einstein, Picasso, Aristotle
None is perceived ‘fore first influenced by
...The energy of creativity
To consciously coach, enhance and coax life with such rush of power gratis,
Is to be in touch, awesomely yet solemnly aware of ones space
...In eternity
Dare partake and hone creative expression denied unbeknownst,
Shun vial veil of deception, for upon reflection
...’Twas not there at conception
Lean back, cast not expectations, let the mind experience
In elation of n’er before imaginations,
Our cosmic ocean of creativity
The birthplace of creation
Time
‘I don’t have time’
The mod American mantra rant
For if I have no time
You’ll think me most important
To admit you have time
Shows you’re sloth and shoddy
For you’re either a fool
Low rank
Or nobody
You may have time
To sit and be
But I cannot
Thus, I’m more important than thee
I have no time
There’s so much I have to do
What they’re really saying is
‘I have no time for you’
Yet, our folks worked two jobs
Actually it was three
But back then
Housewife wasn’t consider busy
And still got the kids to Scouts, band, little league and ballet
Dinner on time, paid all the bills, and attended the PTA.
They did it all with one rundown Oldsmobile Rocket
One TV
One telephone
And no interface Internet IOC socket.
They never missed a birthday
Cousin, uncle, aunt, or friend
Sent 100 season’s greeting cards
Before year’s end.
Mother’s cleaned house
Laundered
Sewed
Baked bread
Dad’s changed spark plugs
Mowed the lawn
Planted vegetable beds
They cured polio, won a war, built the highways
And that super sonic jet
And somehow found the time
To go to the moon on a bet
Life wasn’t all work
Pretending you’re on the run
They worried less about looking important
And more about getting it done
Comp, Comm., Techno, Transport
Time savers, they invented the best
Why now when it comes to time
Instead of more we have less...
Those who have no time
Cannot recognize
They’re not only not important
They’re also not organized
If life is too busy, no time for friends, husband or wife
Get a grip on yourself, it’s time to get new life
So when someone tells you
They’re busy as 50 elves
Who are they kidding...
No one but themselves
Costa Rica
So ya wanna live in Costa Rica
And you’ve come from far away
Why, the ticos are soooo friendly
They all hope you’ll stay
Take an old gringo’s advice
It’d be a wise thing to do
If you expect to live here with a million dollars
Remember
...ya gotta bring two
Moon Watcher
(In memory of Loren Eiseley)
Moon Watcher, the first to gaze
Millenniums' past and stare
What is this unsought new mind, asks he
Suddenly, I know, I am become self-aware
Thrust from all familiar
For some new reason, I am now another kind
What is this vast expanse I command self to cross
This abyss I will name ‘Time’
Moon Watcher, head in hand, contemplating
What rigors lie ahead, forlorn and lonely
Wipes his brow and whispers
Aye, ‘tis Mankind’s Immense Journey
Thus, evolution‘s unwritten script
Casts Man upon a stage uncertain
To perform a part unrehearsed
Life’s act with no final curtain
Flounder to and fro to discover
In what direction lie our goals
Silence ringing in our ears, words come not
An answer, nay even nature knows
Are we merely cosmic accidents
In a universe uncaring, unkind...
Are there other imaginations
Beyond mortal mind...
Struggle we along this journey
Eons ago Moon Watcher began
No longer need we contemplate
With head in hand
Life may now prepare new set
Performance is approaching next act
We’re less entertained, satisfied, amused with fiction
And critically acclaim fact
Evil has never been our nature
Uncontrollable, irredeemably unresolved
But ‘tis misdirected character
With time higher evolved
No more we war for conquest
In deed conquers we thwart
No more gladiator slaughter
Blood is not our sport
We’ve seen through the struggle slowly
Coaxing Mankind’s ingrained mind
Common denominator uplifted
Incremental degrees in successive time
Paradigms are not something callously
Nor haphazardly undone
Rome wasn’t built in a day
Nor was it conquered in one
Finally direction comprehended
‘Twas more than a starring role
Simply cast for nature’s task
Not separated from the whole
Self-awareness a gift resplendent, lucid
Though we lost control
We’ve overcome our under contemplation
How foolish we didn’t know
We’ve passed self-awareness’ precursor
Fostering myopic arrogance
And taken time to recognize
What’s now perceived with casual glance
Through tragedy and ecstasy of this odyssey
We’ve accomplished a remarkable feat
To see its full circle, travelling west
Like Magellan, we returned due east
Crossing the abyss of third dimensional time
We stand at evolution’s new threshold
What lies ahead, again nay even nature knows
Step through, let’s see what wonders unfold
Self aware and conscious
Need we Moon Watcher’s contemplation...
For clearly evolution’s next challenge
Is Mankind’s self-realization
May we this time bare nature in mind
Not loneliness, but unity
As we wipe our brow and whisper
Aye ‘tis Mankind’s
... even greater
...Immense Journey
Safe Sex
Our most precious pleasure
Has lost all fun
Sex is now the same as
Playing with a loaded gun
It started when parents
Told every young man
Keep it up and hair will grow
In the palm of your hand...
Then a course called sex education
Pulled out all the stops
Weren’t nothin’ I hadn’t already learned
From my girlfriend Melinda Plotz
Parents protested, petitioned all over town
THEY wanted to teach us what we learned at recess
From Jimmy Tomsley
Who’d really been around
Pills were also not discussed
’Cause birth control was taboo
Poor Chichi was only 13
When she had to quit school
If they’d made ‘em available
Who’s to say...
We wouldn’t have
Legalized, drive-up, partial-birth abortions today
Rubbers were also not sheik
Not the manly way to go
Let’s face it, to this day
They’re just not macho
Had condoms been shown to youth
In a different light
Would the world be caught
In its current plight...
Remember when it was called clap
Took three shots in your behind...
Until sailors imported
The industrial strength kind
Then it was herpes
For worse or for better
Although unlike love
Herpes lasts forever
That didn’t stop us
That itch caused no strife
But the ante’s been upped
Now that AIDS takes your life
At the risk of sounding negative
Would someone explain to me
What’s so positive about HIV...
Naturally, someone has to take the blame
Now just who could that be...
From where did we get all this venereal disease...
That’s an Old Wives tale about shepherds and sheep
...It couldn’t be men
...it must have been Bo Peep
Oh for the days we could lust and roam
And ‘safe sex’ simply meant
...Your parents weren’t due home
Reality
Most times I didn’t believe it
Had jungle solitude adversely affected my mind...
Not since Man has climbed down from the trees
Has a man been more privileged
To share with those still so close to the source.
I’ve seen the meaning of ‘lesser’ intelligence
Watched it swing from limb to tree
And if there is a missing link
It must be you and me
Many will say I had an illusion, for the jungle speaks not to man
It’s just animals, birds, bugs, and trees
I understand the query
Though I no more share their doubt
The defining line is truth
Which is unique in anyone who cares to see.
Thus, the truth that abides in each one of you
Is what makes you different from the truth that abides in we
The we truth, the one we readily share, is but an agreed reality
Which makes reality nothing more than a collective hunch
Therefore, truth is not important in the question of, ‘To be or not to be’
For in truth what you will find is that only
Imagination …shall set you free
Thought’s Seasons
Spring yea comes out awaken
Thought plantings sprout
Ring naught doubt bring fresh reason
...The spring of our thoughts
‘Tis not foolish to fly in future
To find free flights success
For in future all’s fine naught failure
...The summer of our thoughts
And when dew turns frost we know
‘Fore soon rest aft harvest what bequest
Under waning moon’s dimness
...The fall of our thoughts
In year end may sleep’s long deep slumber
Bring slow and silent dreams number
New wonder of plans begin aglow
...The winter of our thoughts
Yet to dwell in thought’s season time
Is but a fleeting flick of mind
Fogging frail present
Either ahead in future’s summer
Or reminisce in winter’s wonder
For be it winter, summer, fall, spring,
No thought doth manifest speaks Tao
Lest we vow
To be here now
I agree, the world’s absolutely correct when they complain about the only remaining super power. Citizens of the world unite! Surely, there’s another nation to lead this planet. Although, historically we’d be hard pressed to find a more benevolent society to take us into the future (Here I’m referring to the American people, not their fiat government or their out of control multi-nationals). Thereby, I’ve prepared a list of likely candidates for your perusal.
Time For A Change
Germany?
It’ll be a while before all in favor say ‘heil!’
France?
From Waterloo to Dien Bien Phu, whine is about all they can do
Italy?
They’ve already shown what they can do, from Caesar to Pope no thank you
Switzerland?
I can't yodel so I'll never be Swiss, and I can't eat chocolate for breakfast.
Holland?
I like their tulips and their windmills are all right. But I gotta pull my finger out of that dyke. I hate wooden shoes, Dutch cuisine’s no delight, and my bum gets sore all day on a bike.
Sweden?
Let’s hear it for Scandinavians, outdoors, skiing and hiking. The same lovely people with the heart of a Viking. Though once fearless sailors, I’ll have to pass. Beat Columbus by 500 years, but the natives kicked their ass
Russia?
Stalin-grad is not someone with a degree, at least not in history. They were doing ok before that Marx/Lenin yoke, but it just didn’t work so they went broke
India?
Right! A jolly good sort. For openers they’d make ‘begging’ an Olympic sport
Israel?
Yeah right! Then the whole world could be miserable
Greece?
Alexander was great, but no more, they’re still drinking Retsina wine made from gymnasium floor
Poland?
You’ve got to be joking.
Romania?
Ahhh, in my crystal ball I see, Balalaika music, crying violins, ...and your daughters all betrothed to a gypsy.
Nepal?
Good choice, ‘cept the royal family’s dead ‘cause the King’s kid shot ‘em all in the head
Egypt?
How Pharaoh away from reality can you get?
All African nations put ‘em in one lump, an entire continent in a permanent slump.
Tibet?
See Egypt
Iran?
Okay if not for their ayatollah too-many
Afghanistan?
See Iran
Pakistan?
See Afghanistan
As for the rest of Islam surely no one would fuss if they stamped on your money ‘In Allah We Trust’. Pray five times a day, cut off your right hand, stone a woman for adultery but not the man
China?
That act wouldn’t go three seconds on the Falun Gong show.
Japan?
Domo arigato Mr Roboto
Korea?
North you got Kim Sung’s son Jung who I can’t give a go, but in the south you gotta love a country with a capitol named Soul. Yet, the entire peninsula north and south would have us all eating kimchee and burning our mouth
Spain?
They had to hire an Italian to show ‘em the way. If South America is an example, hey Spain, have a nice day
Puerto Rico?
Sure, the whole world could shoot craps, while they ran around stealing hubcaps
Brazil?
How could you go wrong? And it’ll give ‘em something to do when the Amazon is gone. Though you may think that you shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree, Brazilians agree, so long as it’s no taller than your knee.
Argentina?
Madres de los Desaparecidos (Mothers of the disappeared ones) still hold vigil every day. So as for Argentina, no Falkland way
Chile?
Not yet. The name gave me shivers even before Pinochet
Peru?
I have an Inca-ling their through
Cuba?
They’re not doing so well. Maybe when they get rid of Fidel
Mexico?
Okay, ‘cept the first thing they’d do is all move to L.A.
There once was a Cherokee Nation that knew where it was at. Paid no taxes, women did all the work, how in the hell could you improve on that? But the Pilgrims thought them unchristian, uncivilized and had bad aroma, so the ones they didn’t kill had to walk to Oklahoma.
Indonesia?
Ask the East Timorese, that’ll cure your amnesia.
Australia?
Didn’t someone once warn us to ‘Let Australia sleep’? Besides the only reason an Aussie would awake is to ‘ave another piss, mate
England?
Now we’re talkin’ class. They still think sun never sets on their ass
Canada?
There’s a good bet, but they can’t even handle Quebec.
There are over a hundred others I could disqualify with a rhyme, but lets cut to the quick and save us some time.
You’re sick and tired of damn yanks and you think someone better could lead the ranks?
As far as I’m concerned
I got a good feelin’
If anyone can do a better job
...It’s gotta be
...New Zealand
[Now that I’ve ticked off every other nation
I just discovered Kiwi’s have strict immigration
And since all have now denied my visa application
I must live out my days in traveler’s frustration
Me and my big mouth oration]
To The Man They Call Square Deal Dan
He bought me my first glove
Though my hand was ten sizes too small
Then took me in the yard
And pitched me my first baseball.
It was a mighty slider, a hundred miles an hour
...it hit me in the face
But in his typical encouragement he said
‘Son, you'll never make first base’
He tried to teach me boxing
But his hands were just too fast
‘If you live to be a hundred,’ he warned
‘You’ll never kick my ass’
With my busted nose and swollen lip
Wasn’t much I could say
Never did learn to box
Still can't to this day.
He loved to sprint, so we'd get down
Never could beat him out of the hole
Probably because with no starting gun
Only he was allowed to say, ‘GO!’
Couldn't beat him at horseshoes either
Just couldn't make a ringer.
And I was ten years old before I learned
Not to pull his finger
At body and fender he was a craftsman
The last of a dying breed
Being his apprentice, I got to sand all the cars
‘Til my hands would bleed
One day he said I was old enough to smoke
But don't tell your brother.
How open-minded, I thought, then lit up
And he went and told my mother
And if I got in trouble
I could count on him to understand
‘Too damn bad,’ he'd say
‘Now take it like a man’
Never did take to sports or cars
My hand never fit wrench or glove
But in my heart I always knew
That’s how he expressed his love
Here’s to you Dad
I'll never forget
Right to my livin’ end
To me you'll always be
Square Deal Dan
...The workingman's friend
[I realize this is not poetry but I promised the reverend I’d help him out. So if you know someone with these qualifications, please be kind enough to pass this letter on.]
Church of Last Days Profit
Box 666
Walterburrow, S. Carolina
www.furcough.com.
Dear (name of qualified recipient here)
Perhaps you have heard of me and my ministry as I traveled this great nation preaching on the ills of sin and demonic temptation of the flesh. The mainstay of my sermons has for years been my close associate Clyde, an irredeemable soul trapped in inequity and beyond salvation.
Clyde has traveled with me everywhere to provide an example of where we will all end up if we continue to follow the evils of Satan. As I stood behind the podium and preached the warning of demonic possession, Clyde would share the stage with me and drool at the mere sight of a female ankle. Eyes dilated, face unshaven, and skin gray from need of nutrient other than whisky, wine, and devil rum, hands trembling from a lifetime of chain-smoked vile nicotine, and body shaking in demand of more alcohol and drugs. Clyde was the perfect example of unexorcist, ill repentant sin, and fallen shame.
Unfortunately, Clyde died. But after careful investigation and high recommendation from several of your closest associates I’ve been made aware that you would make the perfect candidate to replace Clyde and to help me further my ministry.
I eagerly pray your positive response,
I remain, In the faith,
Rev. Clayborn Spring
Differences
What good are differences, they only cause strife
And give us cause to argue and fight
Without differences of opinion we’d have no trouble
We’d also have no tri-fecta or daily double
Differences are what separate left and right, though
We must balance either extreme for fear one gains control
History’s taught us extremism is wrong
Be it fascist, socialist, capitalist,
Stalin, Pol Pot, Somoza,
Pinochet, Mao Zedong, and on and on...
It’s a precarious balance, like predicting the weather
Yet it must be maintained ‘til our act is together
It takes constant vigil, this balancing act
Lest we blow ourselves all to hell and back
For example, Right to Life and Free Choice
Can we admit both share needed voice...
One says their god commands to multiply
Is it really that cut and dry...
He also said, you reap what you sow
Thus, I don’t think he meant population overflow
Must we choose a world of institutionalized murder
Or one with a population pouring over our border...
Abortion is legal and it fills some with anger
But so does having to use a coat hanger
Commie Russia held bay greedy Imperialist misers
Now it’s China’s job to fight paper tigers
But China thinks to dominate the ranks
Thank your upright, white god for freedom-loving Yanks
Isolationism’s a good balance, sensible, fair