one never knew what she would do
with the gift they gave
thus learning when
giving a gift to
truly let it go
so she held her in her heart
told her of her many dreams
hugs her while children play
the boogieman’s retreat
truly let it go
anger only hurts
forever if you hold it
inside your gut inside your head
implosion is quite fully non predictable
somewhere there’s a daisy a day
somewhere children free to play
over the rainbow is over here
what’s left to say seys Simon
really behind the point of
is freedom of women
who have been
caught in any web
created by myths/pathos
family/religions/cultures passed on
for however thousands of years –
closet door wide open now
even the squeaky door of
lives lived in quiet desperation
all have paid the price my Dear
from Virgin Births
to Holy Sluts
maybe the chicken or egg has no matter
or it is a secret of the Universe
down back home
peach pits take a lot of crackin'
that falls and falls or
as Poet Becky has poemed,
"Rain, rain, rain..."
or Jake who poems of the "Fire"
in the late '40's
men ate fire
in the early '50's
women found fire to their liking, then
along came the baby boomers
most saw the hypocrisy
and made an about face...
a voice said, "Know thyself."
children of the turn abouts
know truth when they see it
and when they do not....
know when feet are firmly planted
they can climb the highest mountain
recognize a dream when they see one
and they have just begun...
hello Mr. Wall Street
are you still lonely tonight?
how many fires have you left in a puff?
how many earthlings starved to death today?
good night Irene
i'm going to leave you now
morning has broken
bright sunny morn
has been spoken
it's my turn to off
and find the Wizard?
blame it on all past generations
to where you have evolved
without which them
never would have happened
now we understand
measures of pain are in us all
honor this or that
we all have measured miles to keep
before we sleep in angels tending
all thru all our nights
now and then a visit
shovelling a hole he was
next to the grave of canine Rojo
from my window calling i
“what are you doing?!”
preparing to bury a dead bird
he says, walks to my window and shows me
in his careful hands
a dead Dove it was dead
burial complete he takes his leave muttering
bad for whom he did not postulate
i/we wood shudder
at the symbol.
Those who take the meat from the table
Those for whom the contribution is destined
Those who eat their fill speak to the hungry
Of wonderful times to come.
Those who lead the country into the abyss
Call ruling too difficult
For ordinary men.
when she smiles
it’s a flitter
when she looks
it’s a glitter
every eye she sees
she’ll be seeing you
in the Rockies
in the Springtime
might she retain
in her tiny brain
each and every touch?
a zillion beats per minute
oh human heart that jumps
what lucky good fortune
to know the flittering wings
with humming bird heart
Bush: We will succeed in Iraq because we have to.
Michael Graham: The Rolling Stones are so normal.
Imus: Do you really believe he snorted his dad,
Keith said it was just a joke?
Michael Graham: Who knows if he did,
he’s crazy enough to do it.
Reporter: In other words, normal is crazy?
If Senator Reid represents the democratic majority
why is he not a candidate for presidency?
Tell me how does it feel Imus
to watch a comedian eat himself to death
in front of your eyes – your mouth
cursing your workers for bringing the food
“out of sight out of mind”
well i’m sitting here out of sight
smoking tobacco next to my oxygen tank
but here is my mind
when adults’ actions are crazy
and they call it normal
they’re driving our kids nuts!
well not really
they are no different than the the flower children of the ’60’s
and their protesting the Vietnam War
and in the strongest voice they could muster
“We are NOTHING like them!”
Hang on Super Mustard Man
you are not alone.
tick tocks the days of our lives
fencing for safety of our hearts
blueberry pie or apple-pan-dowdie
we break our own hearts says Shorty
with fanciful expectations
elections whistling dixie
painted faces wiry smiles
counting down to Turkey day
who will be the pumpkin eater
who shoots off their thumb
when a simple thumb’s up will do
if we decorated Thanksgiving day
with Christmas decorations
and Halloween becomes thanks
can we save the leaves of Autumn
and let down our guard?
knocks the socks right off the moon
lives to love again