Death is for the young.
Dying's getting old.
Death is flip and wags the tongue
Of youngsters acting bold,
Who talk "survival of the fit".
"You ain't got it, you ain't shit."
Dying though, what do they know
Of pain that works into your heart?
And tired? Tired youngsters go
To bed and sleep to rise and start
Another day, relaxed, refreshed--
The old lie down, their minds enmeshed
In pain from memories that can save
A life from little lessons learned;
Or something they'll take to their grave--
Memories held, which long have burned
Within. They lie awake at night
To work on making something right.
That's dying. Death is easy, quick.
Death is nothing, death's a hype,
Death is clean, but dying's sick.
Dying's when your over-ripe
Organs slump, and you don't smell
As good as when you're young and well.
Death's within. And dying's out
Front with family, friends;
You begin to learn about
Dying when a period ends
And death becomes preferred to life
That's sharp as any surgeon's knife.
Locomotive engineers
Carry bombs to bombardiers;
The trains head for the waiting ships,
Bombers wait on landing strips.
Locomotive engineers--
Death-train driving charioteers
With orders they're to make no stops
Until the load they carry drops.
How many people have to die
For every train we're letting by?
On the tracks crowds start to grow,
Steel wheels turning slow;
Locomotive engineers
Shifted into higher gears--
Something here they'd never done.
The people move off one by one.
Someone on the track remained--
His back is turned, the engine gained
Momentum through the curve and through
The crossing as the whistle blew.
From beneath the wheels, no cry.
The people certain he would die.
A woman screamed, some knelt to pray,
And miracles were seen that day:
Mutilated, severed, bleeding,
Talking still, still conscious, leading.
A martyr lived, a train was stopped,
And maybe one day no bombs dropped.
Drift apart.
Out of the blue
Appears an angel if you dare--
A secret heart
To be with you.
You go along with this affair
Of hurried bits and pieces when
You're stealing time to share again.
Drift apart.
It's good as through.
It's not going anywhere.
You let it start
With someone new--
Someone telling you they care.
Someone letting you confide--
Who gives you gifts to wear and hide.
Drift apart.
Attracted to
Someone acting so aware--
Who thinks you're smart,
Good-looking too,
Says so, smoothing your mussed hair.
Kissed, undressed, and dressed and kissed,
You note the time back on your wrist.
Drift apart.
No longer true.
Already had yourself a scare.
You start to chart
Out what you'll do
If you get caught, so you prepare
For hard decisions--harder days--
Together again or separate ways.
I admit it, addict. So?
Dying, inch by inch. No?
What you see
Is hooked but free
From hidden traps
And silly raps
Which only show we disagree.
Addict. Yo. You want a blast?
Nothing that is going to last
Much longer,
Needing stronger
Hits to budge
Me up to trudge
Down paths that I used to wander.
It's become apparent now,
Addicts can but don't know how.
Addict, yo!
Apropos.
I figure you
Fight habits too;
Those to which you can't say no.
Addict, shit, don't want to quit
Until I've had my fill of it.
Happy feet,
Live off the street--
Busted flat,
The bureaucrat
Taught me, keep it short and sweet.
Listen here, learn how it works,
As I expose some ugly quirks
They've buried here.
My hollow spear
Can lance the grief
To bring relief
To addicts flinching, fighting fear.
Security is looking tough;
Some don't seem to get enough--
It's cock and bull
From tough numskull
Agenda under
B2 thunder.
Hidden motives make a maze
From what is really going on;
Truth steps lightly from the haze,
And in a flash the truth is gone.
Days are strange, and night's a trap:
Like a paranoid, they snap.
Hidden motives rule the day,
Shadows slide around at night;
Pleasure? Sure, but twice you'll pay:
For the high and for the bite
You're going to feel your way down
And through reflections where you drown.
Hidden motives. Fantasy
Becomes our golden parachute;
Sharing love we never see
Behind the pale substitute:
Love boat, dream boat, winner whose
Ship comes in to end the blues.
Imagine perfect songs that sing
About the once and future king;
Imagine lives of him that bring
Up the past and vomiting.
Pot, and life is interesting;
Smack keeps tension bearable;
Cocaine compensates for pain;
Booze rages when it's terrible.
As long as someone rules the day,
Some escape life anyway
A guy like me who works at home
Can't help but feel just a tad
A jerk--a glass-eyed gnome
In front of kids forever glad
I miss so much, absorbed pursuing
What's bound to be what's my undoing.
I like Mike,
Was fond of Wanda--
The eminent pretender.
So Moscow Clow
And turn Bruce loose
To be a true contender,
To raise a stink each time a Red
Herring's dragged 'cross paths ahead.
There're cheaper, speedy ways to die,
And you won't feel a thing;
Along the way you'll get so high
You'll hear the angels sing--
All the while a fugitive
From the drab alternative:
Working for a dickhead
Who won't give you a break,
Explaining to thick-headed
Superiors some mistake.
No one told you life was fair,
Don't bother asking if I care.
Some say joke 'em if they can't
Take a fuck like you and me;
Shuffle, yes sir, till they grant
Us one more opportunity--
A step to take you to the top,
You'll have it made if you don't drop.
There're cheaper, speedy ways to die,
And you won't feel a thing;
Along the way you'll get so high
You'll hear the angels sing--
All the while a fugitive
From the drab alternative:
Getting to your job on time,
And traffic's no excuse
For being late--another prime
Example they've no use
For, they want to see some enterprise--
So, you fashion little lies.
Go along with what they want--
Money. Simple. No?
Meanwhile strange night-stalkers haunt
Bedroom windows. So
What's to do when you can see
That life is less than it could be.
There're cheaper, speedy ways to die,
And you won't feel a thing;
Along the way you'll get so high
You'll hear the angels sing--
All the while a fugitive
From the drab alternative.
Because I hadn't stop to think,
Whatever followed had to stink--
Sometimes, though, I called it art
And usually after I got drunk
On certainty and knowing, start
Sermons on what I thought stunk,
Not seeing what this asshole said
Was messing with somebody's head.
Be a stranger or a mench
Whenever people come to wrench
You from the nest to have some fun;
You wouldn't be the only one
Who's felt a little strange somewhere
A stranger feeling's in the air.
Sinking in myself as fast
As sinking into ooze
And swamps of fear that might outlast
Me, addled by the booze
And drugs, or mindless game
That wins by sinking me in shame.
Danny, boy, what can we say?
We know the game you like to play.
But wouldn't it be apropos
To learn a game good for the soul?
To skip the pro and driving range
And join the people for a change?
People in this neighborhood
Are different than I thought;
Neighbors evidently would
Appreciate the pot-
Luck we have to bring together
Odd birds and the common feather.
Pleasure sugarcoats the pain
Those moments that we choose to feel--
Lucid moments seem insane.
We disappear and get unreal--
We ask that we be left alone
To try and stand up on our own.
Keeping dry and getting by,
Surviving stormy weather,
Can be a trick, afraid you'll die
Trying, getting it together--
One mean fix in this New Age
Of micrograms and instant rage.
Wintertime, and storms are up,
Spending money's flying south.
Turning to the wind you cup
Your hands beside your mouth
To call for comrades lying low--
Sheltered from the last big blow.
It's them and us. And them? They steal
Time like energy they drain.
We're the orange they deftly peel,
And as they do it, they explain
It all away--draw up a graph
And fix up soundtracks for a laugh.
Every day our minds are blown
By another trippy gaff.
We let it slide, but have to groan.
This could be our epitaph:
They told us life was always hard,
They slapped our back and called us "pard".
While we nurse their golden calf,
Prayers for profit, both have grown;
Owners to the market staff
The office with a jerk and phone
Explaining what needs to be done,
Looking out for number one.
They hovered with the rising sun
Like dragonflies and landed where
They dropped off soldiers one by one
And flew back up into the air
The quiet people watched in prayer
Atlacatl's back again
They say a legend has returned
From a distant past and war
People's houses sacked and burned
In Morazan, El Salvador
Atlacatl's come before
And now it's back to rule again
She ran and hid behind a tree
From faraway she heard her son
Mama, oh, they're killing me
They killed my sister, mama run
She knelt and cried and heard the guns
Mama, don't come back again
In the mountains hidden deep
There're people haunted by a scream
And nightmares haunts a mother's sleep
Day by day the future seems
To fade away from simple dreams
Dreams she'll live in peace again
The more there is you can't explain,
The quieter I get;
Your careless slips become a strain,
Leaving me to bet
That, by themselves, those things won't change
That seem to make our lives so strange.
When you start to see the end
And realizing what you've done,
You wonder how you're going to spend
What's left of living, in the sun.
Everything you had you gave
Away--and now you try to save
A place that you can call your own,
Safe within a combat zone.
Election USA's a fraud--
The outcome's not what people need;
Someone up there's playing God--
They have money, they succeed,
Free enterprise remaining free
To do a job on you and me.
That every star there in the sky
Was there for those a little shy;
That every star my eye could hold
Was mine if I would be so bold.
The morning sun begins to crest
To start the morning moving west.
I'm stiff and cold,
And feeling old,
But stars, last night, and I undressed.
Ten minute walk to solitude:
The desert had me where
A sharp and silent interlude
Had emptied open air--
A hush so deep I heard the sigh
Of brittle life kissed by the sky.
Objects showing shape and tracks
Exact as skilful hands provide,
Become potential artifacts.
Artifacts are modified
Objects for some future use
To those who make them to produce.
New artifacts have been designed
To make a special bond:
Protoplasmic cells combined
With agents that respond
To magnetic waves that pulse
To make the artifact convulse,
Or make the artifact react
Like the hammer on a gun.
The waves contact the artifact:
Waves to frighten; waves that stun;
Or waves that signal artifacts
Against their will to violent acts.
Future artifact is what
You call the mind of one
That's shaped to serve another, but
Once the serving has begun
It never ends, no one can quit--
You serve until you die from it.
Were there Manchurian Candidates,
And I a delegate for death,
Would I have the guts to pull
The trigger, my last breath?
Wouldn't it be merciful,
Were I a delegate for death,
To have the sense and guts to pull
The trigger, my last breath?--
Undoing mind-control mandates
For cloak and dagger Candidates.
Did Jesse Jackson fall for it?
Swallow Bush's bait?
Has Jesse Jackson gone legit?
Did he cooperate?
Did he smile and shake his hand
And tell Bush, yes I understand?
Back and forth the rocker went;
Only sound above a sigh
Those afternoons she sometimes spent
To rock away another cry.
Before her husband's home from work,
She'd fix herself up for the jerk.
She'd pull herself together and
Put some make-up on;
Always had the dinner planned--
Headache's good as gone:
Let him have his way, why not?
Nothing that can't be forgot.
By the time her husband's home
Every little thing's O.K.
But his smile's hard as chrome--
Turns to news like every day:
Same old same old, lots more of
The bad news bad news loves to love.
One day when he got off early,
He found her in the rocking chair.
She hid her face, he dropped his surly
Grin to see her crying there.
At her feet, down on his knees,
Crying, "Baby, don't cry, please!"
He's good, he's bright. He usually tries
To do his part in making right
The differences until good-byes
Stole their way into the night.
She gave way to doing what
She thought would save the marriage but
It wasn't only fights that made
The marriage such a struggle;
Nor the last uneven trade
Or bills she had to juggle:
She was watching dying dreams--
He was different than he seems
To be in front of company
He might surprise infrequent nights
He came straight home. Wouldn't he
Smile nicely, dim his brights
Until he saw them out of there?
Afterwards she'd catch his glare.
Jealous? No. He didn't care.
She wouldn't be untrue.
He never took her anywhere.
And she was timid, too.
She was praying for the man
She knew he was when it began.
Victim. Martyr. Did what she
Could do to keep her husband free
To do that funny little dance
It takes to be there for the chance
To make it like they say you do
Those times you do enough for two.
Who knows how she took that shit
And still kept up a smile?
Humor him or shove a tit
Between his teeth a while.
Another day with men around--
Bear or whining like a hound.
A randy man is known as stud:
The guys buy him a drink,
Drag some women through the mud
And try to make you think
Her doing what he's done before,
Only makes the cunt a whore.
Ignoring simple minded chatter
Evenings she went out to play,
She would say it doesn't matter
What the good old boys would say--
She's teaching men the lesson that
The girls knew their games tit for tat.
Stepping out and feeling good--
Impressing young and old.
Her smile's one that often could
Make the shy and timid bold.
That toothy grin would suck you in;
You want to touch a little skin.
Easy going. Laughing eyes,
Turning out a nice surprise:
Being with her making you
Surprised at things you'd say and do.
You're in love but she loves life
Too much to be somebody's wife.
She doesn't care much either way:
As you like: take off, or stay.
But just to keep your place in line
You're going to have to learn to shine.
And if you're going to be the one
You'll have to pale the morning sun.
You're her comfort, she's your joy;
Your downfall too, the way she'll toy
With feelings you wear on your sleeve:
Getting stupid, better leave
Your heart in care of some good friend
And keep your cool to the end.
She doesn't want somebody hurt,
She's going to let you know
She going to go out nights and flirt
With guys she'll get to know.
She'll maybe get to know them all,
A few good men are going to fall.
But few would call her if they thought
There'd be a chance that she
Was with someone that night who got
To be her evening's company,
Being that some men can't bear
To know she's one they had to share.
No way will she choose the same
Circumstance she went through
Married--playing that old game
Of doing what he wants you to.
You're better off to sleep alone
At least then your time's your own.
Bitter? No. The way it is:
Friendly smiling gentlemen
Who patronize the girls with Ms.;
Or guys that whisper you're a "ten",
Was near as perfect as it got
Except times someone made her hot.
Now somebody's coming on
Reminding her of days long past--
Back to days she thought were gone--
Days she thought would last and last.
What a treat. She doesn't know
If she should let this sweetheart go.
Times were good the times they spent
Together--laugh and talk;
Unaware of where time went,
Never bothered watch the clock;
Someone's waiting. Just too bad.
Honey's making sweetheart glad.
Curves I travel, love so much,
It's wanderlust on fingertips;
Curves I travel lead to such
Tenderness when tender lips
Answer every move I make--
Those rocking curves I love to take.
He's in love and now he's strung
Out on loving going down;
My, what he'd do with his tongue--
The cleanest parts in town
Belonged to her. With all his heart
He pressed his lips to lips apart.
So good, today. His life had been
Hard and mean the years before
They met. Lost years, for that was when
He couldn't figure what's in store
For living in a rut--he learned
You go the ways big wheels turned.
The wheel leading him around
Was loneliness--the kind you find
With good-time friends you've always found
In bars and kitchens where you wind
Up high and dry on all that's passed
Around to make the evening last.
The wheel leading her along
Had been her husband drifting off.
Indifferent. Sometimes mean. Headstrong.
Another failure getting off--
Out there doing what he please--
Her nights out were just a tease.
She was used to taking grief
From him and from their circumstance.
Near the end good times were brief,
What she wanted was romance;
She would settle for relief,
Decided she could take the chance.
She's heading where he's coming from:
Dance floor and a busy bar
Where, even though the games were dumb,
Anyone can be a star
If they want to bad enough--
All you do is strut your stuff.
And now she's met this guy who wants
To spend his time alone with her.
She's not ready. Caution haunts
Her, and yet the guy's so sure--
Fifteen years of marriage had
Her wanting something better, bad.
Before she met him she decided
It's no use depending on
Someone who, although provided,
Was preoccupied or gone.
A vow they made became a curse:
Seldom better stuck with worse.
He wants her but she's getting out.
She wonders how he'd feel about
Her keeping on with her affairs--
Turned on taking on those dares
For some fun. What would he do?
What's she going to put him through?
Before she knew it, he had stepped
Up to say he loves her heaps.
Before she knew it, she was swept
Up into his life for keeps;
Attention, plenty. He was hers:
Common sense and fancy blurs.
Goodness, yes. Your whispers sung.
We couldn't be apart.
Sliding past each other's tongue
We'd touch each other's heart.
Goodness. Oh. It felt so nice--
I'd say we've done it once or twice.
Passion moved by evening slow.
Passion smells sachet it.
Goodness never sounded so
Good as when she'd say it--
Goodness. Yes. I'm feeling fine,
Musk and heather blend divine.
Ah, what fun! A loving snare
Holds him tight as his heart rides
The rocky rhythms riding bare.
When passion in the love subsides,
Will there be enough to hold
Them close enough when it gets old?
The bottom line, the one I can't
Go beneath, I've gone.
Even when the line would slant
And rest it's bony finger on
The lowest of the low, I've knelt
To see how even lower felt.