The spirit watched quietly
No hand could it raise.
The spirit listened closely
As the faithful sing of praise.
After the worshipful leave
And go back to their home
The spirit wants to know
And sets itself to roam.

The spirit watches us
And hears us when we talk.
It carefully remembers when
Our words don’t match our walk.
The spirit never wants us
To leave the weak and poor
To starve in ignominy
And crawl across the floor.

The spirit is always there
When the rich pretend to be
The very essence of kindness
And unfettered generosity.
And when those same people
Lie and cheat and even steal
The spirit knows for certain
Their piety is nothing real.

The spirit uses gentle thoughts
Set in all our inner souls
To remind us of who we are
And of our intended roles.
But some prefer to ignore them,
The inner urging of their spirit,
And though they know better
They don’t seem to want to hear it.

If you are sitting in government
With fattened campaign coffers
And your pockets filled up
With all the bribes and offers
Just be aware that the gifts
You take with each breath
Are the direct cause of decay
And of your constituent’s death.

You’re selling off our birthright
And that never can be made right.
You choose money rather than fight
And you make of it a long night.

While the police ****** people
Who had no guns in their hands
You send tanks to small towns
And claim it’s all very grand,
Because in a police state
You can control our very fates
And slowly disassemble
The future of the United States.

Your kids are killing elephants
Along with rich kids in their band
While ours are shooting innocents
In a war-torn foreign lands.

The decisions are being made
By those who have the wealth
And that way there is less reason
For any kind of political stealth.
You can steal whatever you want
And use both hands at once
Then, laugh and call us names
Like uneducated, fool and dunce.

We’re starving while you fatten
We’ve no hatches left to batten.
From Los Angeles to Manhattan
You make speeches in garble-Latin.

You’re selling off our birthright
And that never can be made right.
You choose money rather than fight
And you make of it a long night.

He lives in fear
Some will discover
He lives in disguise
Like a spy undercover.
He lives in suspense,
Did he let something slip.
He lives in madness
Like a bad acid trip.

It’s a topsy-turvy world
Where lying is the stock-in-trade.
False approval from peers
Is the payment for deals he made.
The pats on his back
Are what he does the whole thing for.
The social approval gives
Gifts to him too grand to ignore.

He lives in fear
Some will discover
He lives in disguise
Like a spy undercover.

Pride in who he is
A distant world he cannot see.
An Everest to climb
That threatens his mortality.
He has to lie constantly
Or forget himself accidentally.
Telling the truth will
Remove his sense of morality.

He lives in suspense,
Did he let something slip.
He lives in madness
Like a bad acid trip.

He doesn’t trust feelings
They make of him a criminal.
His relationship with pride
And self-esteem is minimal.
That others can be free
Can never apply to someone like him.
He hears there is liberation
But his own chances are very slim.

He lives in fear
Some will discover
He lives in disguise
Like a spy undercover.
He lives in suspense,
Did he let something slip.
He lives in madness
Like a bad acid trip.

Apple core, Baltimore
Some people know the score
They know very well what
This little verse is for.
I don’t have a clue, you see.
It is totally a cypher to me.
It’s a snappy verse, obviously,
But is nothing more than poesy.

Icky wicky bother and blame
Practical jokes are bad games.
Ask me once I’ll say my name;
Every time it will be the same.

It’s a kind of little kid rhyme
That lost its meaning over time.
Parsley sage rosemary and thyme
Kept up with the chronological climb.
But the other is one of those things
Like popsicles and onion rings
That living in the USA brings
But leave me standing in the wings.

Bumpy jumpy, bouncing around
Trying to stay on solid ground
Is chancy at best, I have found.
Its reasoning is not that sound.

Olly olly oxen free is another
The invention of someone or other
To help kids call in their brothers
When the game is curtailed by mother,
Or someone decides it’s done,
Or maybe just no longer fun,
And those hiding one by one
Can come in home on the run.

Icky wicky bother and blame
Practical jokes are bad games.
Ask me once I’ll say my name;
Every time it will be the same.

Pinch you owe me a coke
Is another sadly unfunny joke
Created by some sadistic bloke
That should have got his nose broke
But turned into a game that’s used
Whenever people become amused
By saying the same word the other used.
I don’t like games that leave me contused.

Icky wicky bother and blame
Practical jokes are bad games.
Ask me once I’ll say my name;
Every time it will be the same.
Bumpy jumpy, bouncing around
Trying to stay on solid ground
Is chancy at best, I have found.
Its reasoning is not that sound.

The day we hoped to fix things
The day we would make it right.
The morning we would wake up
And teach the world to love the night.
Yesterday was not an enemy
And tomorrow was our friend.
We would build a world for everyone
And that world would never end.

Yesterday we woke up early
And got a jump start on the day.
We ran or jogged and exercised
And tried out life a different way.
We ate the food we thought healthy
And avoided those we called junk.
We chose to grab life with both hands
And drag it out of the bottom bunk.

Yesterday we started to insist
That people say what they mean
And talk with us about feelings
Not stuff from movie magazines.
We began to demand humanity
And ecologically-minded choices.
We took advantage of the strength
That could be had in our voices.

Yesterday we marched and yelled
To let our brothers and sisters be
Whatever they are and who they are
Without scorn and without penalty.
We joined our local groups and said
They needed to act accordingly
To the rights of every human being
And to implement total equality.

Yesterday we thought of tomorrow
And today we have to do the same.
Human rights and a peaceful planet
Must not be just a hopeful name.
Greed and lust will only prosper
If we back down when we are faced.
Freedom of choice and equal rights
A basic needs we can’t replace.

I truly fail to understand
Why it’s gotten out of hand.
It seems so very odd
There are so many God
Is supposed to have ordained
Some aren’t even trained.
There is an absolute dearth
Of an actual true rebirth
In the revivifying blood of Jesus.
It’s almost like allergic sneezes.

Pastures full of pastors.
Priests and beasts.
Defectors and rectors.
Pickers and vicars.
Bleachers full of preachers.
Clerics and hysterics.
Papal delegates and celibates.
Televangelists and Adventists
And hostile Pentecostals.

We are becoming overrun
With an ecumenical kind of fun
In which before we can holler
Another puts on a backward collar
And starts tell us what to do.
When the rebirthing is through
They are on their park soapbox
And ******* about our Xbox;
Telling us what we should watch
And the coffee in our coffee klatch
Is unGodly because Jesus never drank it.
Makes me want to grab and spank it
Before it multiplies. Jerks, those guys.

Pastures full of pastors.
Priests and beasts.
Defectors and rectors.
Pickers and vicars.
Bleachers full of preachers.
Clerics and hysterics.
Papal delegates and celibates.
Televangelists and Adventists
And hostile Pentecostals.

As a bisexual, I fear
Few will want you to be proud.
They will bend your ear
Saying things to you out loud
That would be better left
Totally, embarrassingly unsaid
Instead of rattling around
Inside the cathedral of your head.

Too many try to make it
Seem like a kind of venal crime
To want to make love with
Someone of your own kind
And maybe with the same
Gender with which you were born.
To some it is very biblical
And subjects you to public scorn.

Finding someone ****
With the same plumbing as you
It not only delightful
It can be a dream come true.
It feels correctly natural
And works like the other way
Even though people scorn
And use words like ‘***’ and ‘gay’
Or ‘******’ and even taco
Whatever that might end up meaning.
The important thing to me
Bisexuality is so powerfully appealing.

So, those who dislike me
And feel so righteously zealous
That bisexuality is wrong
Are very possibly just jealous.
Or maybe just uptight
Living by someone’s else’s rules;
Not what they’ve learned
And therefore are bigoted fools.

She was stark naked
I could see her ****
And her boyfriend had
Quite the **** on him.
His meat should have
Made him quite proud
And the lady’s ****
For crying out loud
Were perky and prominent
And quite nice to see.
Both of them seemed
To be pointing at me.

And I seemed to be
Eagerly pointing back.
They both very obviously
Aware of that one fact.
She smiled openly
And the guy broadly winked.
I started asking myself
“Do you think? He did wink!”
So, I winked and smiled
And let them see my bone
And hoped this meant I
Would not be alone.

I hoped they’d invite me
To sit on their beach towel
To slather sunscreen on them
Like a human mortar trowel.
There are not many things
There are few better for me
Than hot mixed couples
Into some fun bisexuality.
I have games for both kinds
And genders of human beings
All based on the stimulus
Of what I’m feeling and seeing.

Generally a single man
Is not lucky at this scene
A common concept that I
Always found to be quite mean.
I understand about jealousy,
An emotion foreign to me
So, I usually keep my distance
And behave circumspectly.
But when I get the go-ahead
I never hesitate very long.
How could something this good
Be considered bad or wrong?

You made me hate you.
You must love to do it,
You’re acting like you knew it.
You made me hate you.
There’s really nothing to you.
You’re loathed by all that knew you.

You are disgusting sometimes
And times you’re worse.
You really need drugs and
A doctor and a full time nurse.

You always lie so
The truth seems to evade you.
It’s like the devil made you.
I wish you’d just frack off.

Gimme, gimme, gimme
What I long for
A better kind of behavior
I can’t write a song for.
You know you made me
Hate you!

In old New Orleans
Musical lumberjacks
Legitimizing their axes;
Just piano, clarinet,
Bass and the drums.
Bringing jazz back
And then some.

The cat could play
That skinny long black horn,
Hotter clarinet than
Anybody ever born,
He kept hitting notes
So pure and high
We felt each note
In our eyes!

And, if you chance by
Remember this,
They don’t allow dancing.
But when the drummer
Makes works those skins
And makes them talk out
There is plenty of toe-tapping
And nobody ever walks out.

Then, when the guy
Plays that bass fiddle
He adds an underscore
To top bottom and middle.
It’s an underbeat of grace
That will fill the rest space
And the hearts of all
In this overcrowded place.

Vintage jazz roars out
Of an old, old piano
Played by a happy madman
With fingers afire, he knows
He’s got them hooked;
He’s making them wild
As he wails on those keys
He looks out and smiles
And he puts the Satchmo touch
On those old-timey songs

And once in a while
They ask us to sing along.
For the past forty-six years
Those ugly plastered walls
Have never hear so many
Gratefully rendered curtain calls
From an audience of clerks and swells.
On Bourbon Street’s Fritzel’s.
Through hurricanes and beers
Like stepping back a hundred years.
Fats is still playing, Bessie singing
Original jazz music is still swinging.

(From Ireland, a novel by Frank Delaney)

     "As you probably know, nobody can actually write a poem. There's no such thing as writing a poem. That's not how poems are made. Oh, yes, there's the physical business of pen, ink and paper, but that isn't whence a poem comes. Nor may you send out and fetch a poem from where it's been living. No, like it or like it not, you have to wait for a poem to arrive.
     The people we call poets, by which I mean true, real poets-they're merely very keen listeners who've learned to recognize when a poem is dropping by. Then they copy down what the poem's telling them in their heads."

I love to be naked
Where nobody cares
About my fashion
Or who cut my hair.
I love being where
Many nudists are at.
They don’t call me names
Like Littledick and Fats.

I enjoy being out there
In the nature of life
Without any kind of
Negative social strife.
Nudists seem to accept
What the other person is
With a face full of scowls
Or some kind of quiz.

And aging for nudists
Is not a thing of shame.
Outside we grow different
But inside we’re the same.
We are still the people
Who enjoy living free.
And often that means
I don’t want clothes on me.

So, I will get naked often,
Really, every chance I get
And it might help you to
Accept that and not forget
That we were born naked;
Clothes may not be needed.
So maybe we can rethink
The rules we’ve always heeded?

I was desert when you brought rain.
You were a balm to cure my pain.
I could not talk without my tears.
You brought love to allay my fears.
I was living in the future and the past.
You helped enjoy the present at last.
I learned to love again from your kiss.
Everyone should know a love like this.

I had only the dreams of a little child,
The romantic fantasies I let run wild,
Stumbling through uncareful affairs,
Only to discover that nobody cares
About a needy infant of mature years
Who pulls his life down around his ears.
Then your voice brought reason to me
And then suddenly I could actually see.

The best way to find out what you need
Is to know what you don’t want to succeed.
I had plenty of experience of the things
I didn’t want and what they could bring.
So, I started listing what I needed to grow
And then helped myself to make it so.
I stopped investing my time in looks.
I figured out what behavior it really took.

What was important was the heart
Of the person I would love, then start
To see if the rest matched my needs.
Love can grow from just these seeds.
You were the one who taught me this
By caring for me and sharing a kiss
That helped me to stop my routine
Of looking for love from a magazine.

My ****’s all sore
From *** kicks about my lifestyle!
My neighbor’s sore
From raising a child from ****.
Meanwhile the GOP and friends
Are thumping on their Bibles
And driving our country to ruin
Each  running around wearing a cape.

I’ve got a very bad case
Of the Republican Rash
A disease that is fueled
By their greed for cash.

My bank account is ailing
By a deregulating Congress
And a Supreme Court gridlock
That is just exactly as bad.
There are crazy people there
That should be in institutions.
Things are awful ever since
We got ******* by hanging shads.

The GOP is paid Big Money
To **** on us and steal
And then tell us it is raining
And our rights aren’t really real.

My wallet has fingerprints
Of Congress all over it
Not mine so much because
It does very little good to reach.
I work three times as hard now
To make what I once did.
I’m oh so glad I never did
Decide to go and teach.

I’ve got a very bad case
Of the Republican Rash
A disease that is fueled
By their greed for cash.

I’m all confused about things
Like where is up and down
And confusing stuff like
What is wrong and right.
The GOP has spent so long now
Saying they are the good guys
And what I think of as day
Is really the middle of the night.

I’ve got a very bad case
Of the Republican Rash
A disease that is fueled
By their greed for cash.
The GOP is paid Big Money
To **** on us and steal
And then tell us it is raining
And our rights aren’t really real.

Don’t expect evil men to do good things,
They are sick and twisted and addicted
To the bastardy they do. It’s up to you.
You must block them and defrock them;
Throw them out of your political party
Give a hardy heave **, so they know,
Because any word but ‘no’ means yes,
And to them even no can mean okay
If their party pays enough money today
So they can say whatever they want
They’ll flaunt lies as the people’s choice
Unless you give voice to their crime.
They will repeat it each and every time.

Ride them out of town on a rail if need be,
Their seedy behavior will justify it.
They will deny it in face of film footage.
The usage of many lies they will coin
Showing those who are paying attention
That any mention of truth or honesty
Will get instantly reversed and wielded,
Fielded like a pop up ball, by lawyers
And spin doctors on their political team
To make it seem like the good guys
Are not as wise as the black hats
And that will be that, if you don’t stop them.

So beat them, defeat them; turn it around!
Those clowns can only lie for so long
If you don’t go along and okay their crap
Then slap them into jail when they cheat.
Knock them off their feet, depose them
Compose the right paperwork to reverse
The worse things they do and then more;
Even the score by sending them home.
Comb the laws they wrote for corruption
And the interruption of human rights.
Fight fire with fire. If they holler, you shout
And leave them out of the next round
Of sound logic because they have none.

How do you sleep at night
With so much hate?
You can still fix yourself.
It’s not too late.
Wake up and love people
For who they are.
First you must love yourself.
That heals the scars.

Hate generates much more hate.
It’s a vicious circle you’re in.
Someone upsets you too much
And the cycle will begin.
You lash out at them with hate
Instead of asking why.
Then they lash back at you
Neither of you even try.

Probably all the anger you feel
Has nothing to do with them.
Can’t you see it’s something else?
The chances are very dim.
You don’t want to talk about the thing
That makes you stay ******.
So, the way to fix yourself correctly
Forever gets totally missed.

How do you sleep at night
With so much hate?
You can still fix yourself.
It’s not too late.
Wake up and love people
For who they are.
First you must love yourself.
That heals the scars.

She is a woman of power
Like few have ever known
She can take on the world
And manage on her own.
Without her friends and family
It would be a lonely road
But she doesn’t need the help
To carry her own load.

Strong women have a place
In the tales of all our history.
Some became a familiar face.
Some are shrouded in mystery.
But when evil does its worst
And comes to **** and rob,
Sometimes a woman is first
And the best man for the job.

She points the way to others
And show us how to act.
She’s no shrinking violet
And that’s an actual fact.
She’s stronger than she looks
But can be soft as down.
If you want to watch a winner
You should follow her around.

Strong women have a place
In the tales of all our history.
Some became a familiar face.
Some are shrouded in mystery.
But when evil does its worst
And comes to **** and rob,
Sometimes a woman is first
And the best man for the job.

The world has been structured
To reward and applaud the man,
But a woman of power will do
Whatever anyone else can.
Though some may even fear her
She will go to almost any length
To help her world get better
And benefit from her strength.

Strong women have a place
In the tales of all our history.
Some became a familiar face.
Some are shrouded in mystery.
But when evil does its worst
And comes to **** and rob,
Sometimes a woman is first
And the best man for the job.

I want to go back
To Crackerjacks
And KoolAid on ice.
Ice cream sandwiches
And Chick O Stick candy.
That would be so nice.
Double feature matinees
At the local movie show
With cartoons in between.
Car crashes and then the
Cliff hanger serials
Were the best we’d ever seen.

Things like snow days, and
Skinny dipping swimming holes
Great on hot summer days.
And matchbook motors
On the spokes of our bikes
After school every day.
Snow cones and soda pop
Then we turned in the bottles
For two pennies to by sweets.
Snowball forts in the winter time
That were serious business
On every neighborhood street.

Things were so simple then
We each had a list of what
We wanted Santa to bring.
Some wanted ritzy stuff
And others only wanted
A **** Tracy decoder ring.
Life was almost all about
Going to school and then
Waiting for classes to let out.
And though there are joys
For grown girls and boys
It felt good to run and shout!

He’s like a ham actor
Who has only one goal
To see himself in
The starring role.
Talent doesn’t matter
As long as he is zealous.
If he bombs it’s because
Everyone else is jealous.

He goes flap, flap his yap
But be careful, it’s a trap.
He loves to holler up a storm.
But has no talent to perform.

He thinks he is a superstar
Just waiting to be crowned.
Others say behind his back
He’s nothing but a clown.
All he needs is a big red nose
And he’s working ******* that.
He thinks he’s the big ****,
But really, he’s just a pratt.

He goes moan, moan and groan
But leave him totally alone
And while he swears he is fine
He will fail to remember his lines.

All the world is a stage, it’s true
So politics is like theater, too.
And this poor clown with big feet
Tries to deliver his speeches sweet
But his lies trip him in the last scene.
He ends up looking false and mean.

He lies and lies his lullabies
And tries to act so famously wise.
But he only fools the less than bright.
The rest know he’s just not right.

I’ve never been good
At hiding emotions I feel.
I’m not Superman
And Superman isn’t real!

I’m not Superman
And you’re not Lois Lane
We’re not invulnerable
And insensitive to pain.
I can’t read minds
Or see through walls.
And I really can’t fly,
I’m not super at all.

I’ve never been good
At hiding emotions I feel.
I’m not Superman
And Superman isn’t real!

When looking for flattery
It does no good to fish.
I’m not a bottle genie
That grants every wish.
I do the best I can
To give you want you ask
But if I fail, it might not be
A very reasonable task.

I’ve never been good
At hiding emotions I feel.
I’m not Superman
And Superman isn’t real!

So names will not hurt me
But sticks and stones will.
Maybe I’m not the guy
That perfectly fits the bill.
Maybe I should let you
Permit yourself to go free
And the same time you
Would then release me

I’ve never been good
At hiding emotions I feel.
I’m not Superman
And Superman isn’t real!

I like to wear tiny shorts
On my big fat ****.
And little tiny tops to make
My ***** look big.
But if I catch you staring at me
And ogling my *******
I’ll suddenly get all proper on you
And call you a pig.

Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder
I run with a very different pack.
So don’t come crying on my shoulder.
I’ll tell you to step your *** back.

I love my hair bleached orange
With lots of dark roots.
I keep it long, and badly cut
Then wear a pony tail.
I walk like a linebacker
On the scrimmage line.
I think I look extremely cool
Like I just got out of jail.

Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder
I run with a very different pack.
So don’t come crying on my shoulder.
I’ll tell you to step your *** back.

If I wear a hat it is a stocking cap
And some boots I stole from a boy.
It all goes well with raccoon eyes;
The makeup makes it work.
I am so **** hot that I am sizzling.
If you object you are jealous.
So, I ignore your comments and sneers.
You must be a bunch of jerks.

Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder
I run with a very different pack.
So don’t come crying on my shoulder.
I’ll tell you to step your *** back.

Wink, wink,
Let’s not say what we think.
Hokey smoke.
Let’s pretend it’s a joke.
Act like you’re in on it with me
And I will reward you secretly.

Let’s laugh about women
When they can’t hear us
Make stupid broad jokes
Come on and join the chorus.

Let’s be a couple of the
Very classiest of wags
By making many jokes
About lezbos and ****.

Wink, wink,
Let’s not say what we think.
Hokey smoke.
Let’s pretend it’s a joke.
Act like you’re in on it with me
And I will reward you secretly.

We can think of ugly names
To call our Asian colleagues
And not let anybody hear
About our verbal intrigues.

We can meet someplace
And not let the liberals know
And rip up their politics
For a couple of hours or so.

Wink, wink,
Let’s not say what we think.
Hokey smoke.
Let’s pretend it’s a joke.
Act like you’re in on it with me
And I will reward you secretly.

There’s always religion, of course
Since there is so much to say
So there’s plenty of fuel for us
On how bad Catholics are today.

And then there’s always on hand
Those strange believers in Islam.
Hell, they even chose a name that
Appropriately ends in the word slam.

Wink, wink,
Let’s not say what we think.
Hokey smoke.
Let’s pretend it’s a joke.
Act like you’re in on it with me
And I will reward you secretly.

Dead soldiers can’t march.
They can’t hear your lies.
They can’t hear their buddies
Or their agonizing cries.
The politicians lie so smoothly
Some dreams are so lifelike
And the lies are said so truthfully
That some life seems dreamlike.

Dead soldiers are not the ones,
The ones out looking for war.
They, above everyone else,
Know exactly what war is for.
Congress keep swords sharpened
Year after hypocritical year.
Don’t let it happen again
Don’t let it happen here.

Dead soldiers can’t hear you
When you pray to the crowd.
They can’t hear the platitudes
No matter how florid and loud.
They are beyond your excuses
And they never really mattered.
People in power are safe far away
From where all the blood is splattered.

Dead soldiers can’t hug their kids
Or kiss their wives in the morning.
No more time exists for them
It ended with little warning.
They did what they were told to do
With no mutinous thought in their head.
They were obedient and loyal
And now they are quietly dead.

Congress keep swords sharpened
Year after hypocritical year.
Don’t let it happen again
Don’t let it happen here.

Olio and so it goes
Sing a song of gladness
Olio and so it goes
Give silence to your sadness.

I went into my childhood;
A journey back in time.
I talked with a man of minutes
And he spoke to me in rhyme.

(singing)
Olio and so it goes
Sing a song of gladness
Olio and so it goes
Give silence to your sadness.

I climbed to the top of the tower of hope
And danced with a light fantastic.
Spent the night with a harbored grudge
Whose morals were elastic.

(singing)
Olio and so it goes
Sing a song of gladness
Olio and so it goes
Give silence to your sadness.

Found some strength and courage seeds
Dropped on barren land.
Got back yesterday full grown,
My future in my hand.

(singing)
Olio and so it goes
Sing a song of gladness
Olio and so it goes
Give silence to your sadness.

(singing)
Olio and so it goes
Sing a song of gladness
Olio and so it goes
Give silence to your sadness.

An otherwise normal day.
Sitting on the bus, in the back,
People watching as usual.
Coffee drunk, a day to attack.
I wanted to see what happened
So, I worked up a huge yawn.
The yawn went around the bus.
Once all did it, the yawn was gone.
I did it often, totally on purpose.
Just a thing I do to amuse us.

I saw in a movie a man stopped
Carefully looked up into the sky
It stopped the foot traffic that day
They looked up too, I had to try.
I stood on the corner the next day
Down on Twelfth and Main Street.
Firmly I stood in the madding crowd.
I looked up, and they did as well,
And things quickly got quite loud.
It was amazing how quickly it swelled.

The yawn thing works on the job
If you want to give it your own try.
It works on desk mates, bosses
And even on people passing by.
The looking up thing also works
But bosses come and get strong
And stop your foolish game by
Saying that you should move along.
They don’t know what you’re doing.
They just know it has to be wrong.

You say you’ll give me everything
But all I get from you
Is a lot of promises
And kitchy kitchy koo.
You said I’d get a diamond ring
Before the week was through.
Then you said you lost your job
And wanted kitchy koo.

The washing machine
No longer works
And neither do you.
I wish I was exaggerating,
But every word is true.
All I get to look forward to
Is kitchy Kitchy Koo.

Kitchy kitchy koo
When it all begins.
It’s a lot of fun till when
All the kitchy koo ends
You best start out as friends.

Our love life is super hot
But there are other things to do.
Life involves so much more
Than kitchy kitchy koo.
Groceries and cleaning matter
Though not that much to you.
It’s too bad you don’t get paid
For kitchy kitchy koo.

I never thought I would complain
About making love with you.
It isn’t that part that bothers me
So, let me drop the other shoe.
There are seven days every week
And things we adults must do.
And only a tiny percent of that
Involves kitchy kitchy koo.

Kitchy kitchy koo
It’s a catchy rhyme
Just have fun all the time.
When the kitchy koo ends
We may just part as friends.

If I asked you politely
Would you quietly *******?
The crap you keep saying
Is like a tubercular cough.
If lies were visible to us
You’d look like a gas cloud.
You don’t just think like a fool
You say it all out loud.

Take a ride on the Reading
Do not pass go.
Go directly to jail, ****.
For a decade or so.
You don’t have any credit
With me, that is for sure.
If you are a disease I bet
Science hasn’t found a cure.

It’s almost like nobody has
Ever taught you about things
Like transparent lying, and
Disgusting racist mutterings.
The only thing that stinks more
Than you is your philosophy.
It’s just psychotic ramblings
And not much else to me.

You’ve lost all your possessions
From decisions you have made.
Now your half interest in hell is
A thousand degrees in the shade.
When you talk, nobody listens
Because they know you will lie.
We hide when we see you coming
And come out after you pass by.

Take a ride on the Reading
Do not pass go.
Go directly to jail, ****.
For a decade or so.
You don’t have any credit
With me, that is for sure.
If you are a disease I bet
Science hasn’t found a cure.

They moved your district
So your vote goes astray
In order to invalidate you
In each and every way.

Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.

They point fingers at you
And call you ugly names
Demand your rights as equals
They ignore you just the same.

Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.

They tell us who to marry
And say must give birth
As if they were nobility
The queens of the earth.

Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.

They really only want us
To give them all our cash.
The rest of the time they will
Treat us all like trash.

Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.

It’s up to us America
They won’t stop on their own.
They make too much money
To leave our laws alone.
Big Business is paying them
To cheat us all to death
So, they will never stop
Until their dying breath.

Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.

We battled for our freedom
What a shame to lose it now.
We need to fight again.
Make some swords out of our ploughs.
The enemy is within us
Look around, you’ll see them now.
Don’t let the crazies win!

Glory doesn’t come so easy.
Politicians can be ******.
*****, Grumpy Doc and Sneezy
Are brighter than our Congress.

Equal rights and freedom
Were the watchwords at the time
The founding fathers met
And made the opposite a crime.
Then rich men came along
And showed us how to act like slime.
Don’t let those criminals win!

Glory doesn’t come so easy.
Politicians like things ******.
Washington is getting wheezy
When corporations cheat!

They take away your rights
And make sure your vote will never count.
And say they are agreeing
With a bunch of no-accounts.
They’ll wait ‘til you’re not looking
And then legally they’ll pounce.
We’re **** near on the brink!

Glory be to God almighty.
There’s no time for being flighty.
They’ll leave us nothing but our nighties!
It’s closer than you think!

You people that say
“There aren’t any gays
In my race or church!”
You’re so wrong, I say.
You’re so wrong
It will be hard to get back
To right, you know,
Where you went off track.

You people that say
There are no gays
In our holy country
You’re wrong too, I say.
You’re hiding something
About yourself to say it.
You’re driving yourself crazy
The way you want to play it.

You people that say
“Jesus hates blacks and gays!”
You are totally wrong
That’s not what the book says.
You people that think
You know the path to heaven
Couldn’t find you way
If it was at the Seven Eleven.

You people that say
“God damns you people to hell!”
Haven’t read that book
Or understand it very well.
The book never has Jesus
To utter one punishing word.
So, where did it come from,
All that hatred you have heard?

You people that say
“There aren’t any gays
In my race or church!”
You’re so wrong, I say.
You’re so wrong
It will be hard to get back
To right, you know,
Where you went off track.

We once had wings
But as we were not angels
We fell from the sky
And were beset by devils
So we no longer fly.
We are bound to the earth
To sweat and to toil
From the moment of birth
On this planet called soil.

We once had wings
And were pure in our hearts
And then we allowed
Ourselves to be distracted;
Our greed and envy to start
Working its black magic
To turn us back into dust.
The outcome was tragic
As our silver began to rust.

We once had wings
And kind hearts full of hope
And joy for each other
Feeling like sister and brother
Wishing good will to all
And praying nobody would fall
But then we turned away.
We started counting our things
And forgot to pray.

We once had wings
But as we were not angels
We fell from the sky
And were beset by devils
So we no longer fly.
We are bound to the earth
To sweat and to toil
From the moment of birth
On this planet called soil.

I lived through it,
The up and down times
When I sold ***
And did other petty crimes.
I was there when
Hot girls were really guys
Hiding floppy secrets
Between their nyloned thighs.

I loved through it,
Saturdays that started
On Tuesday morning
When I first departed;
Two packs of cigs
And a week’s doobies,
By then a value
Almost that of rubies.

I laughed through it,
A **** *****, your jokes
Were so funny if
You were providing smokes.
I flattered and flirted
Whatever it would finally take
To score a bit of ****,
Even the skimpiest shake.

I lolled through it,
Lying buck naked in your bed
Or with your guests
Whatever you originally said
Because you scored,
You were the source of dope.
Without your patronage
I didn’t have a moment of hope.

I hitchhiked through it,
Long trips back from Malibu
When I had worn out
My welcome to the world of you.
I hope the ride might be
Another adventure; more ****,
Or some food and drink
To satisfy my every begging need.

The solution to pollution
Is to cease affluent effluent.
In other words make the rich
Live in their ecological excrement.
Force them to drink only from
Their permanently poisoned pipes
And turn a deaf ear, as they did
To any of their constituent’s gripes.

The enemies of the anemones
Fought their way to the deep
To censure and make sure
The sea creatures had no sleep.
It seems the corporations
Don’t realize what they’re doing.
If we **** off the plankton, then
We’re headed for planetary ruin.

It was bad enough when someone,
Without telling us, sold our land
And then they chopped down trees
For a reason anyone can understand;
Greed. That was the proper word.
They wanted more money in the bank.
So when the land erodes and dies
We’ll have the corporations to thank.

They cover up their eco-crimes
By declaring illegal military forays
And pretend they are taking us back
To those good old, happier days.
But in between bombing villages
It can always plainly be seen
That we and our country are
Slowly being picked totally clean.

And when we object, cry out loud
That something is wrong with all this;
They start to call us unpatriotic,
Call us who starve are the neurotics.
So, don’t listen to their lying rhetoric,
Instead look at what they are doing.
The sonsabitches are Macbeth’s witches,
And they have a lot of poison brewing.

Sorry, dude. I must admit
I find it more than pathetic
That you experience life
With sorrow about some of it
That you don’t have a drug
To take to help appreciate
Something that is amazing
And really needs no chemical
To help you exaggerate
What is really going on
And pretend it is better
Or somehow transcendent
As if water can be wetter.

But it is as if time warped
And I have gone backward
To talk to myself about it
And then zapped forward
To see what a saturate
What a wet-brained fool
I was back then, it’s true.
I was a tin-plated tool.
I measured my existence
One dime bag at a time
Giggling with stoner friends
About my forays into crime;
Selling backs of skunk ****
When nobody else had any
Good stuff or bad stuff.
And I was the one with plenty.

Walking through Hollywood
With stoner friends and flakes
Singing as we stumbled along
About life and what it takes
To satisfy *** hounds those days.
***, drugs and rock and roll
And pride in our half-witted ways.
Learning how to roll pinners
Of a buddy’s stash on the sly
While he was taking a whizz
And couldn’t ask me why.
Learning how to properly treat
The remaining sticks and stones
And confiscating the roaches
When the others left them alone.

That was the cannabis coalition
The Sativa Society at its height.
We worked in the daytime and
Got ******* most every night.
And sooner or later, on the job
In the bathroom or on the roof.
I didn’t think of it addiction.
I still needed further proof.
I needed to try to buy ****
From a government man I met.
Fortunately I bailed on that
Before adding one more big regret.
Life has gotten better since then
No more outside dependence.
I quit before the drugs became
The entire focus of my existence.

Dating gay guys works
For women now and then.
You might end up dating them
Over and over again.
Many are good dancers
And dress in current style.
And while you won’t get laid
You’ll have fun for a while.

After dating all those jerks
You’ll surely wonder why
You never had the idea of
Going out with a gay guy.
You can dress pretty and
Never need to wear a mask.
He won’t make a move on you
No matter how you ask.

Dating gay guys works
For women and gay men.
You might end up dating them
Over and over again.
Many are good dancers
And dress in current style.
And while you won’t get laid
You’ll have fun for a while.

Your girlfriends will see you
With a guy who is lava hot.
And if he isn’t to femmy
They won’t ask whether or not.
They’ll just see you at bars
And dancing the night away.
They’ll never think to ask
If that big hunk is gay.

Dating gay guys works
For women and gay men.
You might end up dating them
Over and over again.
Many are good dancers
And dress in current style.
And while you won’t get laid
You’ll have fun for a while.


And the girl talk you can have
About all the smoking guys
About their gorgeous bodies
Their smiles and their eyes.
If you pick the right guy
You can find out right away
Which other guys in the club
Are actually secretly gay.

Dating gay guys works
For women and gay men.
You might end up dating them
Over and over again.
Many are good dancers
And dress in current style.
And while you won’t get laid
You’ll have fun for a while.

Downton Abbey’s going off the air.
I’m not through yet, it’s just not fair.
Nothing before that show ever had
That kind of class, that degree of flair.
Life without my weekly Downton
Is too sad and inordinately scary.
What will I do without my frequent fix
Of the elegantly snarky Lady Mary?

And will the feckless Mister Barrow
Ever develop a true human soul?
I am sure this handsome actor fellow
Will never again get such a meaty role.
And the Dowager Duchess herself,
She is not someone easily done with.
She is, after all, tradition incarnate,
And under all that, she’s Maggie Smith.

Bates and his Anna filled my heart
With alternating sorrow and great joy
Almost as much as a lady of nobility
Marrying the handsome chauffer boy.
Dresses and hair lengths shortened
And nobility began to get real jobs.
All this was before ****** flared up
And turned starving folks into a mob.
I never missed that we were seeing
The transition from ‘la belle epoque’.
That time was running out for that
In the worlds ever-changing clock.

It was a yesterday we never knew
We of the age of electric equality.
We got to look inside and see it
In all its grandly overdressed reality.
I had begun to recognize artwork, in
Lovely strolls through baronial halls
And huge family meals at table.
I am sorry that it is over for us all.

Not a lot has changed inside
From who I used to be.
I’ve gained wrinkles and gray hair
But that’s just humanity.
It doesn’t change the facts at all;
I am still who I always was.
It’s the packaging that changes
And that has a reasonable cause.

When I forget something
Folks call me old and senile
But, the fact is that I have
Been doing that for quite a while.
Ever since I was a kid
As a matter of pure fact.
So, don’t mislabel something
That is not an aging fact.

And when I groan a bit
When rising from my chair
It’s a bad habit I learned
Long ago, some bad where.
It is laziness and whining
And that’s the pure truth.
It has nothing to do with
My distance from youth.

When my eyes get misty
At something I may see
It’s not that old age has
Has totally overtaken me.
It’s because I’ve been around
For enough of these years
To recognize the feelings
That go on behind tears.

So tip your hat to me, my friends
And you surely won’t go wrong.
There is a bit of credit due
For sticking around this long.
It has given me some vision
Due to plenty of hindsight,
To make better decisions now
And to make most of them right.

I’d sing to you soft songs
If you walked along with me
By the sea, harmonizing;
Eulogizing each wave before,
Ignoring the temptation
For libations and viands.
The sands would demand
As hand in hand we stroll
And roll with the moment,
The foment feet way
At the end of this day.

I’d revel this all with you
New waves making lights
That night tries to hide
While inside we create
The greatest love and joys
Toys for the fates, caress
And dress us as royalty.
Loyalty and gratitude transform
As we form into a pair.
The wind ruffles our hair.

But clouds don’t talk out loud
And tell you all this about me,
Or rout me out of my dream
Not as real as they seem to be
These illusions often delight me
But rightly, dissipate in the breeze
Then, on my knees, I pray
There will be another day
That is just like this one
That has just begun.
Until then, I thank my luck
That what a buck can’t buy
Has just passed me by
Bringing good fortune
And a clear sky
To weary eyes.

I’d revel this all with you
New waves making lights
That night tries to hide
While inside we create
The greatest love and joys
Toys for the fates, caress
And dress us as royalty.
Loyalty and gratitude transform
As we form into a pair.
The wind ruffles our hair.

I am now so old
I only remember things,
Whenever possible,
That please me
From days “back then”,
When my **** was where
It was supposed to be
Now it walks along behind me
Like a lady in waiting.

My **** is like bunting
And my hair is hunting
For new territory
Up my back and shoulders;
It happens when men get older.
The hair on top thins
The stuff below begins
To reupholster my anatomy.
It’s so irritating to me
This whole aging thing,
This “being a senior” stuff.

It’s really rough on someone like me
An eternal teen, new to the scene.
But now I have become
That eccentric old fellow
In plaid pants that looked dumb
In the seventies and before
And forever after.
But I can’t join the laughter.

Because it’s me, you see.
All I need now is to pull them up,
My pants, my belt
Right under my man *****
And I’ll be the guys on YouTube
In the video gag reels.
That’s how it feels.
But, it’s not funny to me.
It is, however, reality.
I will just have to make the best
Of the good and bad, the rest

I’d sing to you soft songs
If you walked along with me
By the sea, harmonizing;
Eulogizing each wave before
Ignoring the temptation
For libations and viands.
The sands would demand
Hand and hand we stroll
And roll with the moment,
The foment feet way
At the end of this day.

I’d revel in this with you
New waves making lights
That night tries to hide
While inside we create
The greatest love and joys
Toys for the fates, caress
And dress us as royalty.
Loyalty and gratitude transform
As we form into a pair.
The wind ruffles our hair.

I’d breathe in the sea air
Sharing the breezes with you
Doing nothing but strolling
Unrolling a memory for two
Who both understand this
Is what it is; a beginning
Winning a celestial prize
For eyes that celebrate
This date as only ours;
These hours our dedication,
A presentation to us both
And loth to walk away
We so want to stay.

I sleep in my cardboard cottage
That is my current job.
I keep it neat and clean as I can
I am not a slob.
I have my own place staked out
Everyone knows it’s mine.
It keeps the wind off as I doze.
It isn’t perfect but it’s fine.
Part of my job these days is easy;
I set out a cup and sing.
It doesn’t make me a million
But it is something.

When the weather warrants it
I sleep in the park
In the bright warm sunshine;
Stay awake in the dark.
It seems the citizens and cops
All leave me alone
Even though they still talk to me
With condescending tone,
Tsking at my laziness in general
Give the charity buck
Or maybe a quarter when they see
Since I’m down on my luck.

There’s this guy Hay Soose
But he spells it Jesus.
He could spell it that way
If he so pleases
But that don’t keep him dry
Whenever it rains
And it doesn’t stave most of the
Deep arthritic pains
From sleeping under cardboard
As his only roof.
Watch him shiver in winter if
You want some proof.

People have gotten to know me
As I’m here every day.
Some of the even come by with
Nice words to say.
And, I am used to the noise here;
The horns and the noise
Of the workaday world of these folks;
These grownup girls and boys.
Some tell me to go find some work,
I don’t get mad and shout.
I understand they have some hostilities
They have yet to work out.

Some of my neighbors here in cardboard
Dwell here because they
Can’t seem to work life out for themselves
In any other way.
People fire them from any employment
Because they act weird.
Some refuse to bathe or maybe it is
They refuse to cut their beard.
As for me I have had enough of it all;
The rattle and the hum.
I know society has a lot to offer but
I already had some.

Whimsy plays too big of a part
In what we call normal life today.
All the Gods the snobs invent
Have these expensive feet of clay.

You can put a monkey in a cannon
But that don’t make it incendiary.
Anyone can smoke a camel, but
That doesn’t make it a dromedary.

We need to have a nursery rhyme
That warns us about politicians.
Specifically how to disarm them
And turn them into electricians.

You can’t roll a joint properly
While surfing on your Sea Doo.
You have to ask the questions
But the answers might mislead you.

Unlike an elephant who remembers
Who knows what the thing recalls?
Voters forget every fourth November,
The outcome far too often appalls.

Bringing popcorn to a media circus?
Plays too much like a bunch of selfies.
The humor there is out of service.
Leave that movie on the shelf, please.

You can sing a song of sixpence
But it doesn’t buy a flipping thing.
It’s hard to find an honest man
When artful liars get everything.

Fools blather about the glory of the fight
And don’t hear the mothers crying at night.
The wives of those marauders on the roam
Cry because their husbands can’t come home.
The children of these battle-addicted men
Go away, eyes ashine, never to return again.
And still the moneyed few, urge on toward
Yet those godlings never pick up a sword.

Mandates from government palaces abound
But not as many as the dead on the ground.
People are expendable to the military,
There are no pensions in the cemetery.
It’s all about honor they tell the press.
Leaving someone else to clean the mess.

Fight for liberty and freedom, they say.
They really mean die for them every day.
It’s all about profit and always was.
It’s that and no more noble cause
When a nation not being attacked
Falsely claims they’re striking back.
Then goes on to leave thousands dead
So they can wear a crown upon their head.

If you see no words of shame in this
Then you have found what is amiss.
These people are not motivated by grace.
They have the look of evil upon their face.
They already own most of what is here
But they keep a running tally all year.
As too much is not enough they crave,
Even if that puts us all in our grave.

Making excuses
With hundreds of uses
All kinds of ruses
To cover up abuses
By venal national leaders
Upscale liars and cheaters
And well-armed bush-beaters
Feeding the meat-eaters.

The uptight Right
With its narrow eyesight
Calls daytime night
And loves a grudge fight
So, they create enemies
With deceitful homilies
And live up to the parodies
That leave us on our knees.

They ignore the Constitution
And make new resolutions
To offer no real solutions.
To our national destitution.
All that matters is monetary
So, they bribe the constabulary;
Call civil rights revolutionary
And laugh at those they bury.

The point is, make no mistake
These reprobates always take
They never take a break.
They cut nobody a break.
They steal and call it rights
And love it when the poor fight.
And while we sleep at night
They steal even the street lights.

Why do I see angels
That no one else can see?
They look like people
Just like you and like me.
They are everywhere
I have ever chanced to go.
They work their magic secretly
So nobody else can know.

I see them helping people
With subtle acts of kindness
And don’t seem to suffer from
What is a common blindness.
They don’t look for rewards
Or the sound of public applause.
They share with generosity
And quietly work at their cause.

They don’t have wings
But they are angels nonetheless.
They fit the titled perfectly.
We really don’t have to guess.
I’m beginning to think
Maybe I should not even try
To figure this one out
For me to understand why.

Why do I see angels
That no one else can see?
They look like people
Just like you and like me.
They are everywhere
I have ever chanced to go.
They work their magic secretly
So nobody else can know.

I don’t always want
To hit a home run
But I always want
To be in the game.
I don’t always need
To be the big star
But it’s nice if they all
Remember your name.

You can’t make a touchdown
Every time you play the game.
But, suit up and show up
You’ll be glad you came.

I know I have blown it
More than once before
But that is the reason
We have for keeping score.
We add up the averages
And when I do the math
I find trying my best
Is taking the right path.

It does no good to give up
Without even the one try.
You prove to yourself
You’re a ‘go for it’ guy!

If you think this is rah-rah
You are absolutely right.
What good is getting beaten
Without even a fight?
If you think this is a metaphor
You are correct once again.
How can you win the race
If you never even begin?

You can’t make a touchdown
Every time you play the game.
But, suit up and show up
You’ll be glad you came.
It does no good to give up
Without even the one try.
You prove to yourself
You’re a ‘go for it’ guy!

Onward Christian soldiers
Off to ****** more.
With the cross of Jesus
Adding up the score.
**** as many as you can
In the name of Him
He, the guy who taught you love
Whose light is going dim.

Take the words that Jesus said
Twist them up your way.
Make the talk of prejudice
Throw the book away.
If someone is different
Make a joke of them.
Make up lies to publicize
In the name of Him.

Call the Christian soldiers
To put down the poor
If they dare to congregate
At the nation’s door.
Teach them only Christians
Get to share the loot.
And they have to be the right
Kind of church to boot.

Bless you Christian soldiers
God is on our side.
Fight against those other folks
Please keep back the tide.
Good people are like us;
Stand behind the cause.
Christian white and Protestant
Just like Jesus was.

Iddy Biddy Bopping Boy
Dancing by age of three.
Dancing for the feel of joy,
What a happy sight to see.
Jigging, jogging, boogywoog
Like folks six times his age.
Iddy Biddy Bopping Boy
He became the local rage.

As soon as music played
His feet began to move
The rest of his tiny body
Bounced with the groove.
He’d get that happy look, then
He’d slip and slide and wiggle
And anyone around him would
Smile and then begin to giggle.

He was so young to do it
To have a style this cool
But nobody ever argued
They’d be a purentee fool.
The Iddy Biddy Bopping Boy
Was cool and smooth and clean.
He was the dude, the man;
The pint-sized dancing machine.

Iddy Biddy Bopping Boy
Dancing by age of three.
Dancing for the feel of joy,
What a happy sight to see.
Jigging, jogging, boogywoog
Like folks six times his age.
Iddy Biddy Bopping Boy
Becoming all the rage.

I usually accept things
The way that I find them.
I get some bad hands
But I really don’t mind them.
You loved me yesterday
Bored with me today.
Sometimes I wish we could
Do this affair another way.

Up and down, then in and out;
That’s what you and I are all about.
Here today, gone this afternoon;
That’s the name of your crazy tune.

Love me or hate me
Choose what you want.
This flippy-flooppy love
Is just a wasteful taunt.
I think I must be using
The incorrect terminology.
Love doesn’t fit with
Your current methodology.

Up and down, then in and out;
That’s what you and I are all about.
Here today, gone this afternoon;
That’s the name of your crazy tune.

I think it is me who has
Mistaken lust for affection.
It might be time for me
To go another direction.
I will miss some of your
Intimate bedroom frolic,
But this kind of relationship
Seems very much alcoholic.

Up and down, then in and out;
That’s what you and I are all about.
Here today, gone this afternoon;
That’s the name of your crazy tune.

On the lonely road, a crow was picking
At the fresh remains of a dead chicken.
It’s the circle of life, as far as I can see.
Everything is food; both you and me.
It’s all circle and cycles, you see.
Running away and then back again.
Life the enemy in our old age
That started out to be our friend.

It’s all ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Even solid steel is a victim of rust.
We can pretend might makes right
But that doesn’t stop the fall of night.
Water is necessary for us,
But without air, there is death.
We can live but a few moments
If we do not have our breath.

Without food, we will get weak.
And stone can break our bones.
Fire can consume us it is sure
But fire needs air, it is well known.
The crow pecks bones without joy
It is what it must to do survive.
The crow does not worry or frown.
It does what it does to stay alive.

The people that use that road
For the old crow’s grisly feast
Do not care for god or books
Or superstition in the least.
Congregations of god surely will
Hire mourners to wail their grief
About the loss of a pious soul.
No more honest than a thief.