Monthly Archives: December 2012

Of Misery and Happiness

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Burden not the solitary equine
Willing servant, sumpter of e’erlasting woe
Tribulations tensed and thus so high-lined
Carry that which rightf’ly’s your own
Make not the son some candelabra stool
Nor husband tote contentment all and then
Nor daughter eat the sins of ancient fools
Nor wife protect the vanities of men
What share we may this blessed earth belong
To sing and dance as glad participants
To have and so be had in joyous song
The best of times we know shall never last
So burden not the solitary equine
For sorrow if it choose is only mine

love and the revolution

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look inward, angel,
     to where the sun’s not at
and i’ll be there.
     for absurd as it seems – is not
to be the precious pet
    but to not forget.

forgive me, plausive angel,
     but were they not to set you free?
and could you thank a soul
     to give you back bare feet?
and did they cry when you cried?
     or did they forget?

look inward, angel,
     to where the sun’s not at
and i’ll be there.
     for absurd as it seems – is not
to not forget
     to pet the precious pet.

Senses

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When do my senses get caught up in fences?
When do my thoughts take a trip on their own?
All that I’ve wondered, the thoughts that I’ve pondered
All that I’ve seen, heard or touched all alone

My eyes see a stranger, my nose senses danger
But somehow I’m hearing the words of a friend
The air becomes cool as I sit on my bar stool
Playing another sad game of pretend

Sometimes we smell victory, sometimes a trick
Or follow your nose, move from where you are at
See all that is blue or look into the future
Hear what they’re saying up under their hat

What things seem to be, I often don’t see
Like feeling the fool when I’m winning respect
Or I thought I heard praise as their glasses were raised
But I’m not sure what next to expect
          (I don’t trust that pat on the back)

I’ve watched while he preaches, I’ve heard all his speeches
I’ve read of this, that, and the other big deal
My thoughts are confused, is my voice being used?
Concerned about credence – and what I don’t feel

When do my senses get caught up in fences?
When do my thoughts take a trip on their own?
All that I’ve wondered, the thoughts that I’ve pondered
All that I’ve seen, heard or touched all alone

Johnson Street

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Your mind’s been blown
in thick pink clouds of rancid hue
from smoke and silt and residue
which left your brains in acid stew.
The film that stains your clothes dull green
lies in shadows kept unseen;
emits to us the raunch of what we see.
It keeps you dead to us ‘unknown’
and makes you perpetrate and groan
your want. It’s yours alone.
You pitiful sad thing,
you . . . you wanted everything
but now you’re left to feel the sting
and let the needle cling.
It’s done its deed.
You’ll lie in slush and let it bleed,
consuming wants with all your need.
It’s sad, indeed.

I’m In Heaven

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The sun beats down
     On the North Beach sand
Linda and Mary
     In their summer tan
Sipping lemonade
     As my skin gets fried
(1, 2, 3, 4)
     I must have died

I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)

Crowded into Kroll’s
     For the Sunday game
Bears at Packers
     I can feel the flame
Suzie and Karen
     Shouting football pride
(1, 2, 3, 4)
     I must have died

I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)

At Chief O’Neill’s
     In the afternoon
Drinking pints with a woman
     That I met in June
I can’t remember her name
     But you know I’ve tried
It doesn’t matter . . .
     I must have died

I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)

I’m on the Near West Side
     Underneath the moon
Sitting on a couch
     In The Tasting Room
I’ve got Connie and Becky
     On either side
(1, 2, 3, 4)
     I must have died

I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)

laundry

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i sit
     and watch
my clothes turning

and the lady,
     her girl,
they sit
     and watch
me

it has been two years
     since that
old blue shirt
     has come out
un-wrinkled

and my jeans
     are
losing themselves . . . too old

when i am done
     when
my shirts are hung
     when
my socks are matched
     and
my undershorts
     are safely tucked
into my laundry bag
     i wink at the girl
and leave.

i don’t even wanna know

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i don’t even wanna know
what you are gonna say ta me
you can forget about me now
please believe me
taken half a year ta find out
why a whisper grows in the dark
if i could see it i’d still
never know
why you wanted ta break my heart
in two – ya did an’ i ain’t sorry
though i really
wanted you
but i was caught between a fantasy
an’ the real world

i don’t even wanna know
why you are tryin’ to belong
you’re just a mystery
but you kept goin’
on an’ on . . .
well, you can put me in yer scrapbook
like so many words gone down
like the sound of
fallin’ snow
i ain’t around no more
ta tell yer troubles to
an’ i won’t listen
if i could but I will always
in my dreams remember you