Heroes Lane

Anymore

Every time I take a chance, I blunder.

Every time with people, I go under.

I reach out and get my fingers bitten.

I will stay at home and pet the kitten.

The cats want gravel, water, food and love.

And I needn't wear a heavy glove,

As when I say “I love you”

To homophobic fools

Who gave up life and feeling

For a lot of plastic rules,

Empty gods and sin,

Phony indignation,

Make believe chagrin.

4-26-14

 

Heroes Lane

We live in the swill

Of the martyrs and saints

Whose major virtue was dying.

All the way down

The lane of the heroes

Are the names of the killers

All murdered themselves

On a field of mud.

Let's sing them a song

Of glory and gratitude.

Visalia's own heroes

Lie rotting in heaven.

4-26-14

 

Aftermath

The facade is coming back,

And I feel better.

Fighting tampers with the status quo.

Did the cats know what was going on?
The blessed virgin got her stack of pancakes

And commanded him to

Leave them at the door.

Always right, the dominating mother,

Good and true, the sole reality.

Sinking back into our proper places,

With the holy mother in her room,

And her minions -

Will they come today?

To leave their love thoughts,

Cigarettes and beer,

Blunts and pot

All scattered on the lawn.

All her sycophants know how to live,

Galt and Roark – all know how to live,

And tower like great redwoods over me.

4-25-14

Poignant Lines

I'm crazy. I can feel it. I can smell it.

Can anybody standing nearby tell it?

Coffee and people and raspberry tea -

There's anymore nothing in Denny's for me.

Farewell to her flattery, something I lack.

She got so vicious, I didn't write back.

Could that be the way she intended it be?

This rhythm's as changeable as the sea.

Nothing's as vital as rhythm to them,

Busted intelligence, such is the gem.

Start to believe every word that is said,

Soon you will lose your awareness instead.

People love strangers, most of them do.

Reducing their number a trillion or two.

Kick in his teeth and he'll lionize you.

Fragment

If I were Keats, I'd feel embarrassment -

A little man to take on giant themes,

Awash asleep in many images.

Heir Presumptive! Used to fisticuffs.

And to begin with beauty as a goal.

Take the artist's self-evaluation

And believe it – he himself has said it.

4-24-14