Poems

Endgame

I will sit in Denny's til I die

And all the walls are covered with tattoos,

Til the songs, experiments in sound,

Crack the plaster and the ceiling falls,

Til the clientele (just normal people, sad to say)

Have taken over and the cook is dead,

And the lighting flickers in the night,

The truckers shout – like Saturday at 2 -

The women take their clothes off in the aisles,

And the whores eat hearty with their johns -

The waiters and the waitresses

Will stoically keep smiling,

Pouring coffee, carrying their trays.

8-2-13

 

Asses

Come everybody! We're capturing fags!

Providence gave us a mission.

All of us under our several flags,

With muskets and nuclear fission.

Only the born again know what is right.

We're privy to Jesus

And Jesus to us.

With god on your side, it's a glorious fight.

Granddaddy's marching in spite of his truss,

With his divine blunderbuss.

After the battle we'll go to a bar

And order a couple of beers.

They're plucking the feathers and boiling the tar.

The Prince of Peace doesn't like queers.

8-2-13

 

Denny's

The people that I write about in Denny's

Who've moved on are nothing now but names,

Vague faces in a distant memory.

There are new ones now I won't remember

When they are gone and I am very old.

They'll remodel Denny's

Several times before I die,

Maybe even knock the diner down.

Nothing's permanent. Not even god.

8-2-13

 

The Bible

Since the regime of Man fell on

The planet like a curse,

They say the Bible helped. You mean

It could have gotten worse?
A boring, long, archaic piece of verse.

8-2-13

 

The New Front

Snowden is a heretic.

They'd put him on the rack.

We'll go to war with Russia

I suppose to get him back.

The Yanks are unforgiving.

And Snowden is a beast.

They left Manning off on one

Archaic charge at least.

8-2-13

 

Style

I sit alone in Denny's

Plagued with rhythmed doubt.

I just write good poesy,

Despite what it's about.

I've a style like every poet,

Mendicant and whore.

Every verse I write seems like

I read this verse before.

Poesy that bumptious

And calls the world an ass

May be necessary,

But it's very second class.

8-2-13