Law Of The Street

Law Of The Street

A cycle in the center lane, you see,

Slowed abruptly, and an SUV

Struck it. Buddies of the fallen Man

Pulled the luckless driver from his van

And beat him. This according to the news.

Like believers sitting in the pews,

When motorcycle Men get mad, they spanky.

Really makes you proud to be a Yankee.

10-1-13

 

TA

Did anybody realize,
Permit me if I sing,

Transactional Analysis

Didn't mean a thing?

This cute and Christian panacea

For the mind's afflictions

Was totally a tangle

And a mess of contradictions.

Graphing on a grid the slightest

Things you say and do,

One leader of this holocaust

Was actually a Jew.

10-1-13

 

Wounded Ego

Lost in California

Where the Reagan lovers live,

Writing simple poesies

With all I have to give,

Certain as I am despite

What children see as art,

Carried like the sewage

Through the city in a cart,

If I got a showing someone,

Anyone would hear

There's magic in my poesy,

And as much sincere.

And if it caught – it won't! It seems

I've vilified a nation.

Some phrases more innocuous

Might cause a conflagration.

10-1-13

Enigma

If I stand alone, it is

As though I have no reasons,

Invisible, an effigy

Of rags in someone's vineyard.

And the crows descend. The sparrows

Perch upon my shoulders.

The grapes are plump and purple,

And the sun is going down.

I may fall into a furrow,

Tractors roll across me,

Break the sticks and tear the cloth.

I shall not feel a thing.

9-30-13

Two Books

In several days I'll publish -

Self-publish, no one wants me -

A book apiece for my two friends -

Each a dream I wake to.

Shakespeare didn't grovel for

The fortunes of the masses.

Shakespeare didn't have to.

The dice were tossed to please him.

And if I die before the books

Are ready to be purchased -

Anyway that's speculation.

No one's going to die.

No one's going to die. Not ever.

Syria and Egypt,

The Lord's Resistance Army,

Like Republicans, are myths.

9-30-13

 

Jill

Verses are my immortality,

And she the seraph guiding me to heaven.

Desist to write, and I would die at once.

But she beside me on a cloud would live.

All the stars are commas in a poem.

The midnight darkness, like a catacomb,

And she the moon illuminating lines

Of poesy that she could better write.

I want to write a poem about Jill,

Not an abstract fancy, but a dream,

Substantial. The reality of sleep

Keeps her image in a photograph.

9-30-13