Eternal Rock

Words march goose stepping to the songs of Jesus

Invisibly his friend Holy Ghost played the bass

God clapped his hands and made dust

which still covers Oklahoma

Texas and Nebraska

Thank Moses for some bluegrass music.

I Walk on Water

It’s a lovely day in my hometown

think I’ll take a walk across the Jordan

walk on water for awhile, heal a leper

and bend the rules of Jesus

for just an hour maybe two

I am God and no one knows it

the soil of it all wipes clean

my miseries and unclean fantasies.

Plunge my nakedness into the river

deep and pungent the smell of man

never leaves the swirling slicks

oil of our fathers and their fathers

Mother Mary stopped by in her Vera Wang

fresh off the hangers at Saks on Fifth

snug yet quite revealing

the cross of her father.

City lights burn yellow in darkness

the lights leave but not the yellow

LA my kind of town

pimps and whores and rock n roll

designer jeans for short fat men

like me and my uncle

he’s dead now

I’m next.

A Vinyl Night

You and I sat cold by the tent

you were stoned

I didn’t know

California nights

could be so bone cracking cold.

We watched campers

moving in and out like ants

on a drop of sweet

it was a vinyl gypsy night

as campfires curled snake smoke

against a carbon ink sky.

The beach was stark empty

you needed friendship

I offered only silence

silence and a beer

you wanted neither.

We smiled as laughter

rolled from nearby tents,

love laughter, bare skin giggles.

No stars shined in a bleak darkness

just a gnawing void never leaving.

God I feel it again today.

Caged

We are birds

freedom measured

by cage size and whims of our masters

don’t speak of god’s will.

He’s smoking a Cuban whistler

drawing hard on a factory made blunt

somewhere in the golden boardrooms of Wall Street emperors,

alpaca stuffed recliners drinking the blood of Christ.

We are birds

flying in circles

chasing dollars and breadcrumbs

chicklets with gawking beaks screaming,

“No room, no room at the inn.”

Four,

one will scream of freedom, one suicidal,

one staring through the bars, and one

hoping his sister will soar through the cell’s gate.

Forever is a Fish

I stare sometimes into a starry night and I swear I can see forever.  I can see broken children of the Holocaust, the Black slaves being tossed off slave ships into a watery death.  Sometimes I see my brother, eyeless, and destroyed by the insidious effects of diabetes.  My father visits me in the pitched night and wants to know how life is going after his death fifty years ago.  The mind works in strange ways.

What keeps an old depressed man going?  My wife of over twenty years, Debbie, has been my rock and I would take a bullet for her.  I would crawl through broken shards of glass for her as she would for me.  We are tied to the same rope, the same love we’ve had since our chance encounter.  For me, life is serendipitous.  I see no God reaching his finger down and stopping the slaughter of children, the rape of women, and the unspeakable collective Catholic molestation.  If ever there was a God he’s skipped town and is now living on an island paradise as a sea turtle.  Sea turtles are smart and non-aggressive.  The earth is my home and always will be until my body is purified by the crematorium fire.  My ashes will be blown in the wind whipping through Cape Hatteras for I am a fish and I must return from whence I came.

Fake News

God loves nothing better than a freshly painted barn,

fresh concrete at the front door, and a Rhode Island Red.

Nice quaffed hair on a virgin girl and a sacred boy with clean hands.

Thou shall not touch thyself, smell the scent of temptation,

or harden at the sight of skin, bare flesh is for cat testosterone.

I wrote it in a book some call the Bible, others call it fake news.

Broadway Sorrow

Rain smothered my windshield as I turned on

Broadway heading west for no reason

just my mind wasting time in darkness.

Carole and James sang, quietly telling me

maybe you wouldn’t love me tomorrow,

maybe god is skipping this year’s festival.

Potholes vibrating my steering wheel and reminding me

my money is gone, six cigarettes waiting for a shaking hand.

Loneliness has never felt so sorrowful.

Windshield wipers streaking my life with each splash of light

cast by godawful sulfur leached yellow lamps.

I truly am the man of constant misery, stay your distance.

You said goodbye, but I didn’t hear.

I heard only what I wished for, what drove me.

You never complained until our pot boiled over.

Swish another splash of life pushed me away, far away.

I wish there was a wand to wave to bring you back,

back into my arms, but rain keeps falling and never calling.

My Corona

A monster crawled through broken tunnels,

street lights ran freely,

stores emptied as the ghost hovered above

the clothing aisle as two Spanish lovers

ran out the sliding doors, eyes like dark fountains.

Fever climbed to a pitch not seen before,

doctors scratched their beards then died.

“Surely,” someone said, “the anti-Christ

has crawled from the cellars of Hell.”

“My god I believe an orgasm of irony

has visited our land.” The king cried,

“I’ll kill that bastard.”

That bastard left town on a politician’s

tan coat, polka dot hat, and a secret lover’s tight sweater.

Mama, I’d like to know you better but I’m dying on a trach tonight.