Adversary
Written: 2-22-10
There goes my adversary
Looking as smug as always
Acting arrogant as usual
I wish I could put a bullet through his heart
_________________________________________________________
American Waste
In the United States, an average of 760,000 Americans are homeless on any given night
Approximately 19% are veterans
8,000 to 11,000 people in the downtown Los Angeles area alone are homeless within a 50 block radius
There are 90,000 homeless people per night in Los Angeles county
That's larger than the population of the beach city of Santa Monica
A family of 4 needs to make $70,000 per year just to make ends meet
Nowhere in California is the gap between rich and poor greater than Los Angeles
Despite being the city of stars, Los Angeles is the homeless capital, surpassing even New York City
And now.........
American Waste
Written: 4-29-05
A man on a bench
Staring up at the sky
A look of despair
In his bloodshot eyes
He remembers a time
When things were much better
When his stomach was full
And his head was together
But he lost his job
And something just went wrong
His wife up and left him
And his children were gone
Just like that
He lost his will to live
Begging for handouts
But I've got nothing to give
There was an old woman
Who lived in a box
With the hookers and junkies
Smoking ten dollar rocks
She talks to herself
The way crazy people talk
Pacing back and forth
Or napping on the sidewalk
Would you try to help her
If you knew that you could?
If you saw her on the corner
At night in Hollywood?
It's too late now
All her worries are gone
Now she lives in a box
At Forest Lawn
Why are these people
Ignored and forgotten?
Some seem to think
It's our system that's rotten
Who are these people
And why are they bums?
They're American waste
From American slums
What's left to say
At the end of my tome?
I don't have much
But I have a home
_________________________________________________________
The Candidate
Written: 3-5-12
He kisses babies at every stop along the way
He says everything he knows you want him to say
He shakes hands with veterans, but seems a little nervous
Because his rich daddy got him deferred from active service
He never misses a chance for a golden photo op
He poses with plumbers and mechanics and cops
His sound bytes are perfect and so are his lies
You can see them form in his perfect blue eyes
Every week on national TV
He sticks his foot in his mouth for all to see
Then back pedals and says he was misquoted
It’s the American People to whom he is devoted
He has more money than you’ll see in your life
But says he understands your financial strife
He claims to know what you’re going through
Because, he says, he’s exactly like you
He says he can fix everything that’s wrong
That he had all the answers all along
But we all know he never really could
You just voted for him and hoped that he would
But now he’s in office biting more than he can chew
There’s more to this job than he ever even knew
He stacked up promises he knew he couldn’t keep
Now we watch them topple while he sews what he reaped
He said what you wanted so he could get elected
Then threw away his promises to help the disaffected
You bought his crap and believed his every word
Now we’re stuck for 4 years, ‘cause you voted for a turd
As for me, I feel no shame
Don’t look my way; I’m not the one to blame
I knew from the start he was rotten to the core
But he’s not the liar that I voted for
________________________________________________________
The Complainer
Written: 8-22-12
She lives to complain about her money problems all the time to who ever will listen
$1000 for her kids college tuition
$5000 for some house repair
$700 for some unimportant shopping spree
A maid to clean her house
Complaining is her subtle way to brag about how much money she has
Her problem is that she has too much money
And she has forgotten what it’s like to not have it
Oh, she probably has some sob story like everyone else about growing up poor
Or that she “knows what it’s like” to not have money
But she’s forgotten about it now
She doesn’t remember what it’s like to not have milk in the fridge, bread on the table or gas in the tank
She doesn’t know what it’s like to have to choose what bills she’ll pay this week
Could she manage without water or electricity?
Could she tell her kids to do with out lunch for the next couple of days?
So people who can’t afford to take annual family vacations to exotic, expensive tropical islands in the Caribbean
And can’t always afford bread and milk or to fill the gas tank every week
And have to choose between water or electricity
And don’t have a maid
And can’t afford to send their kids to college
Don’t want to hear you complain about your God damn money problems!
_________________________________________________________
Divine Crusaders
Written: 8-9-06
Picture a man
Bible in his hand
Speaking at the head of a pulpit
Controlling through fear for 2000 years
And you have an idea of the culprit
Picture a money obsessed
Televangelist
Fire and brimstone preacher
More like a whore
From Babylonian lore
Than one of God's holy teachers
Make no mistake
Religion is fake
A multi - billion dollar corrupt corporation
Verbalizing mental masturbation
To a gullible TV population
Run by Divine Crusaders
Warping religious iconography
Venereal Virgin Mary pornography
I won't believe in ancient superstitions
Spoken from the mouths of modern Polichristians
The self proclaimed leaders of God's war
For souls upon the earth
For a small donation
He'll pray for your rebirth
The sick and the dying look to them for answers
Put your hand on the screen
POW!
You're cured of cancer
Stealing money the legal way
From those naive enough to give it
They sure can talk it
But they sure don't live it
Their accountability is gone
When the camera's are on
They blame the Devil for their own indiscretions
So they can explain away their own perverted intentions
They're only sorry when they're hauled away to jail
I've often wondered how they hide their horns and tail
Apologies for embezzlement always ring dry and hollow
Deceit by the disciple is a bitter pill to swallow
I won't listen to anything they have to say
I'll wait patiently while their empire decays
We should all move on and leave religion behind
They know I'll go to Hell for speaking my mind
I won't live my life by words on a page
They'll never put my mind in a cage
I choose to worship the people I choose to love
But maybe that's not good enough for the man up above
And now it's time to put this thing to rest
When I die, I'll look God in the eye
And say, "Father, I tried my best"
_________________________________________________________
Flower
Written: 6-22-05
YOU
With out-stretched palm
Arms opened wide
Welcoming the lost boy home from Never Neverland
Replanting the amputated flower, whose roots are shriveled but begging to be replanted
You with a broken pot to grow in
Had no pot to p*ss in
Making floral arrangements to take him in
But rarely watering or nurturing
Ignoring it in the corner of your mind, away from the sunlight
Hoping it will die so you can throw it in the brown trash can reserved for lawn clippings like so much garbage
Hoping the trash man will remove it from your door step
And forget that it ever happened
ME
The amputated flower
With only a broken pot to grow in
And no pot to piss in
I replant myself and bloom and reproduce and grow strong despite you
I will plant your memory in the darkest vacancy of my mind
And watch you wilt and shrivel
Until you grow brittle and die
Like so many floral arrangements discarded after a funeral
While I evolve and transform and re-invent myself
No longer in your corner
But forever basking in the warm summer sun
________________________________________________________
Happy
Written: 7-1-06
When you're being beaten to death by your own stupidity
And when all the pain you've caused comes back to infect your conscience like cancer
And when you're on your death - bed choking on words that you said to hurt others
And the last note of that fucking annoying Beatles song has faded from the ears of the last mourner to leave your funeral
And your rotting, rancid, stinking flesh has fallen from your bones and turned to dust and has been forgotten about in a six foot hole in the earth
And Satan himself has claimed your black soul until the end of eternity and beyond
Only then will I be happy
_________________________________________________________
HOLLYWOOD
Written : 1-18-06
Standing like a signal fire for the whole world to see
50 foot letters ignite HOLLYWOOD from the top of Mt. Lee
Into the concrete valley of the shadow of Dracula
All roads lead to it like a magnet
From places like Kansas, Wisconsin or Michigan
Where a nice kid leaves all she knows and loves with a head full of hopes and dreams and limps home with a heart full of despair and newly compromised values
There is an electricity that hovers over this magnetic movie Mecca phasod
An air of excitement on the cusp of "The Next Big Thing"
But down on the street itself boils a tension of impending, imploding disaster
No one knows this better or has seen it happen more times than the Sunset Strip or Hollywood Boulevard
Stretched out like old, used up whores
Streets that have seen better, more glamorous days
Gone are the corner drugstores where wannabe starlets of yesteryear sat down to have a soda or ice cream hoping to be "discovered"
Replaced by tacky souvenir shops where disappointed tourists buy snow globes in August
Gone are the streets lined with pepper trees and oil derricks
Replaced by tattoo shops where homeless punk rock kids bum for change to get something to eat or score more dope
Where transvestite prostitutes wait for dates
Where the hippest rock clubs in the world breed the wannabe rock stars of tomorrow that make great, cutting edge music that we love today, but deny that we ever did tomorrow
Replaced by ultra trendy restaurants where the food probably sucks, but I'll never know because I can't afford to eat there because Demi and Ashton eat there and the paparazzi hide in the bushes next door making tens of thousands of dollars snapping blurry photos of them being "normal" - God Forbid!
Where the same said celebrities hold a press conference to dictate their political and social agendas to a world that they think is hanging on their every word
Waiting to be told what is cool or what to like next or to show us how they paid their way out of murder
Where the Walk of Fame literally glitters day or night, even through the layer of filth and the stink of urine left there by bums ( not to be confused with ("Homeless Citizens")
For a nominal donation, you can have your picture taken with a Batman, a Spiderman, a Willy Wonka or various other street performers in front of the Mann's Chinese Theater, which is beautiful and dreamy, but as out of place as a Wal-mart in China
Silent movie stars sleep forever in the Hollywood Forever cemetery as silent as the movies they once starred in
Waiting patiently for company and reminding us that no matter how rich or famous we are in life, you can't take it with you and we all end up in the same place when the movie ends
There is not a new Hollywood or an old Hollywood
There's just Hollywood
Where everything I just said is wrong and so like, 2 minutes ago
But God help me, how I love it
_________________________________________________________
The Pig Leader
Written: 5-3-07
The Pig Leader
Speaks for peace
But Spends for violence
He speaks for freedom
But pays for silence
The Pig Leader smiles
As he turns the handle on the meat grinder
While our soldiers die in vain
And become statistics in a binder
The Pig Leader
Is the Media
Who exploit what we fear
And only let us see
What they think we want to hear
The Pig Leader
Can't be stopped, it's too late now
We were programmed at birth
And we don't know why or how
The Pig Leader
Is your President
Is your boss
Is the KKK
It's the Police
It's Exxon Mobil
It's the American way
________________________________________________________
Protest This!
Written: 9-3-05
I saw some protesters
Driving home from work one day
I didn't stop to listen
Because I didn't care anyway
Maybe it was political
Or something about the war
I couldn't have cared less
To me it's just a bore
I've got better things to do
Than hold a sign and shout
And chant a clever slogan
That no one cares about
I didn't honk my horn
Or give an encouraging cheer
I didn't even look behind me
In my dirty rear view mirror
So don't ask me for money
Or to sign your silly petition
You can't tell me how to think
Because it's not your decision
If you want to make a difference
Get off your lazy ass
Drop your sign and take action
And make a statement that will last
Protesting solves nothing
The Hippies proved this true
Someone else will come along
And protest you!
_________________________________________________________
Redemption Day
Written: 10-27-05
When too many ill feelings pass between people, memories that once tasted like summer fall like rotten fruit from a dying tree
At 16, he waited for redemption
His heart was confined to a concentration camp of despair
Given to him by his parents' own hand
Having no way of knowing that he had the keys to his own liberation all along
Not realizing and especially not caring that his own redemption has been in his own back pocket
And that only he can save himself
That fateful day came under a hazy august morning
Redemption came
And went
It wasn't what he thought it would be
It wasn't what he wanted it to be
His face turned red, grew hot
His head exploded with thoughts of betrayal and violence
It was too much to bear
How naive, he thought
His savior was actually a demon in disguise
The day dreams of a boy no longer fit inside a man's head
He suffocates at the edge of the landfill of human wreckage
Feeling disconnected
Longing for what is not his to hold on to
Feeling a million other things I can't process right now
Angry. In denial. Fuck it, man
Then one day the sun came up and he understood
He got it
Only he alone could redeem himself
So he did
Today he lives anonymously in a small town in California
He is happy and well adjusted
The fruit tastes sweet again, even though the tree is dead
But every so often, a cool morning breeze awakens slumbering memories
And again he suffocates
_______________________________________________________
Rot
Written: 4-22-11
For Arah
So what do you think happens
While you lay in your grave?
Did you say some Hail Mary’s
And thought that you’d be saved?
A rotting suit of flesh
Is all your life’s reward
There is no Heaven
No Devil, no Lord
Go to church once a week
Your common sense is raped
Wallets pillaged, minds plundered
And all they preach is hate
Hate for Muslims, hate for queers
Hate for other Christians
Hate for liberals
Hate for me
Who don’t fit in their system
Mind control and fear
Is what they have to sell
Buy the lie or when you die
You’ll burn in Dante’s Hell
God is ok
But his fan club sucks
Harvesting gullible minds
With their own hard earned bucks
You have your opinion
And I have mine
You think you’re the wiser
And to me, that’s fine
So go to church on Sunday
Like faithful little sheep
And disregard this poem
By a Godless, heathen creep
As for religion
I think I’m gonna pass
Keep your Sabbath holy
And I’ll keep my cash
_________________________________________________________
Sunday Morning Cons
Written: Circa 1988
Sunday morning
Time to watch the cons
Religion on T.V.
From dusk til dawn
These men are so amazing
These men cure the dying
A slap to your forehead
Leaves your mind crying
If you don't believe me
You can watch him live
He'll cleanse you of sin
For $19.95
These men will accept you
For who you are
As long as you own
A major credit card
It's business as usual
Embezzlement and fear
Special discount price
Cause the end is near
If you don't believe me
You can watch him on the news
Film at eleven
Caught with whores and booze
________________________________________________________
The Social Collapse and Assumed Death of Southern Hospitality
Written: 8-25-10
If Southern Hospitality is alive, where did it go?
Did the wind blow it to a more favorable location somewhere in the Midwest where it would be better appreciated?
Small towns breed small minds
Where the people are click-ish and can be just as insincere and fake as the celebrities they follow in the grocery store tabloids
Where their suspicions of any one they aren't related to and who aren't from their corner of Dixie allow them to smile and invite you to their church
While they talk shit about you behind your back and show what poor, two faced Christians they really are
If it died, is it buried somewhere we can weep over its grave and mourn it as a lost childhood memory?
What killed it?
Is it the systematic collapse of basic human kindness and the erosion of social skills?
Has social networking and education dehumanized Dixie?
I guess you can only take one person at a time at face value until their narrow minded prejudices surface and burn you
I think if Southern Hospitality ever existed,
It’s dead now...
_________________________________________________________
Talk Show Loser
Written: 5-26-04
Talk Show Loser
I see you on the tube
Screaming obscenities
And acting like a boob
I watch to remind me
That my life is not so bad
And for that I thank you
You mullet headed hag!
You came on the show
So that you could tell you wife
You've been cheating on her
All your wretched two faced life
She acts surprised and angry
When you finally drop the bomb
Then she tells you she's been cheating
With your neighbor,your sister,the dog and your mom
Now she's playing defense
With this lousy thing to say
Guess what loser?
Your son has your brothers DNA
A fight erupts on stage
And of course it's no surprise
The host begs for order
As someone gouges out his eyes
His nose is gushing blood
And he just spit out a tooth
The sponsors line up around the block
Cause the ratings go through the roof
Talk Show Loser
Fat redneck
I'm glad I'm not your friend
Cause my life would be a wreck
White Trash,trailer park
Wife beating king
Nappy headed,snaggle toothed
Baby making prom queen
I've heard it all
I've seen enough
You embarrass your generation
I've seen you before
I'll see you again
But for now
I'll change the station
Talk Show Loser!
________________________________________________________
Throwing it all away
Written: 3-26-13
You throw words like knives
Aimed always at my heart
Straight for the bullseye like a champion archer who never missed the mark
My heart bleeds with every cliche and stale figure of speech you can attach to it
Numbed by the pain
Draining me until I nearly lose consciousness
Seeing the bright light of peace and quiet in the distance
Only to be rudely revived by the shrill piercing of your angry voice and another volley of words finding their mark
Repeated enough times until you have used every word in your arsenal and are satisfies that I have been sufficiently beaten down and can offer no further resistance
Resistance is futile- you win again
It's never been any other way
And I suppose never will be
My heart is sick as I find a safe place to take stock of the damage inflicted and contemplate my wounds
Sick to think we may be slipping away from each other
Like two countries at war because they had nothing left to say
My heart is sick and sad
To think we may be throwing it all away
________________________________________________________
What God Do You Kill For?
Written: 9-13-10
Man invented God so he wouldn’t feel so alone in the world and to explain what he didn’t understand
Then he invented religion to use God and fear to control others
Then he collected a book full of folklore and stories from other cultures based on half truths and hearsay
Then he set out to use this book to justify making war, murdering, subjugating, civilizing and converting other cultures that couldn’t read and had no use for it anyway. Tribal cultures that lived close to the earth and took care of each other and were content without it
Then he used it as a means to control the minds of those he conquered and condemn the ones he couldn’t. He used it like a virus to spread fear, hate, and hysteria. They were labeled as Witches, Heathens, Pagans, Heretics, Pariah’s, Anti Christ’s and again used the book to justify casting them out of mainstream society, and condemning them to execution by hanging, drowning, torture and burning them at the stake.
2000 years later, here we are, still being controlled by it. Buying into the lie. Being programmed from birth not to question it. Celebrating the horrific trail of blood and gore they left for us to follow
Those of us that do question it or reject these institutions are still labeled, rejected, looked down upon, pitied and condemned to burn in Hell
The Heathen in each of us has been buried; beat down, suppressed, civilized, subjugated and forgotten about.
I am not controlled by a 2000 year old book of superstition and folklore based on hearsay, half truths, fear and hate. I am not controlled by a book that is open to interpretation. I don’t have 2000 years of blood and guilt on my hands. I have a brain and it will not be bent to someone else’s will.
So for every Damned Christian I’ve ever known who was afraid I would be a bad influence on them, who tried to stab, beat and strangle me with hateful words of superior self righteousness and piety and condemned me to burn in Hell, I say……..
I am content to reject these imposed institutions.
I am content to be a Godless Heathen than a religious zealot
I have no beef with your God; its his fan club that I can’t stand
So what God do you kill for?
_________________________________________________________
White Collar Rebel
Written: 4-5-08
Hey there White Collar Rebel
Presiding over your multi-million dollar empire
Behind your imported teak wood desk that destroyed a quarter acre of prime rain forest trees to make
I guess you figured out that revolution doesn't pay the mortgage or Hawaiian vacations or face lifts for your bra burning, former feminist wife
Where did that idealistic 20 year old go who thought he could bring revolution and change to the world with peace and love?
Where did that kid go who marched in the streets and braved police batons in the summer of '68?
Where did that 22 year old go that joined the Peace Core showing third world peasants how to live like civilized westerners?
What happened to your heroes who provided the soundtrack to your revolution?
They're providing the soundtrack to car commercials and on line stock trading that you buy
Where are all your fellow revolutionaries now?
Except for a few hardcore, die hard burnouts, I guess you figured out that revolution doesn't pay off after all
If you can't beat them, then bury your revolutionary ideas and values somewhere you can never find them and join the status quo
Congratulations, White Collar Rebel
You are now an elder statesman in the establishment that you tried so hard to bring down
It's an interesting commentary on how time and capitalism can kill a man's value system
I guess you figured out that revolution is not a viable commodity
_________________________________________________________
Written: 2-22-10
There goes my adversary
Looking as smug as always
Acting arrogant as usual
I wish I could put a bullet through his heart
_________________________________________________________
American Waste
In the United States, an average of 760,000 Americans are homeless on any given night
Approximately 19% are veterans
8,000 to 11,000 people in the downtown Los Angeles area alone are homeless within a 50 block radius
There are 90,000 homeless people per night in Los Angeles county
That's larger than the population of the beach city of Santa Monica
A family of 4 needs to make $70,000 per year just to make ends meet
Nowhere in California is the gap between rich and poor greater than Los Angeles
Despite being the city of stars, Los Angeles is the homeless capital, surpassing even New York City
And now.........
American Waste
Written: 4-29-05
A man on a bench
Staring up at the sky
A look of despair
In his bloodshot eyes
He remembers a time
When things were much better
When his stomach was full
And his head was together
But he lost his job
And something just went wrong
His wife up and left him
And his children were gone
Just like that
He lost his will to live
Begging for handouts
But I've got nothing to give
There was an old woman
Who lived in a box
With the hookers and junkies
Smoking ten dollar rocks
She talks to herself
The way crazy people talk
Pacing back and forth
Or napping on the sidewalk
Would you try to help her
If you knew that you could?
If you saw her on the corner
At night in Hollywood?
It's too late now
All her worries are gone
Now she lives in a box
At Forest Lawn
Why are these people
Ignored and forgotten?
Some seem to think
It's our system that's rotten
Who are these people
And why are they bums?
They're American waste
From American slums
What's left to say
At the end of my tome?
I don't have much
But I have a home
_________________________________________________________
The Candidate
Written: 3-5-12
He kisses babies at every stop along the way
He says everything he knows you want him to say
He shakes hands with veterans, but seems a little nervous
Because his rich daddy got him deferred from active service
He never misses a chance for a golden photo op
He poses with plumbers and mechanics and cops
His sound bytes are perfect and so are his lies
You can see them form in his perfect blue eyes
Every week on national TV
He sticks his foot in his mouth for all to see
Then back pedals and says he was misquoted
It’s the American People to whom he is devoted
He has more money than you’ll see in your life
But says he understands your financial strife
He claims to know what you’re going through
Because, he says, he’s exactly like you
He says he can fix everything that’s wrong
That he had all the answers all along
But we all know he never really could
You just voted for him and hoped that he would
But now he’s in office biting more than he can chew
There’s more to this job than he ever even knew
He stacked up promises he knew he couldn’t keep
Now we watch them topple while he sews what he reaped
He said what you wanted so he could get elected
Then threw away his promises to help the disaffected
You bought his crap and believed his every word
Now we’re stuck for 4 years, ‘cause you voted for a turd
As for me, I feel no shame
Don’t look my way; I’m not the one to blame
I knew from the start he was rotten to the core
But he’s not the liar that I voted for
________________________________________________________
The Complainer
Written: 8-22-12
She lives to complain about her money problems all the time to who ever will listen
$1000 for her kids college tuition
$5000 for some house repair
$700 for some unimportant shopping spree
A maid to clean her house
Complaining is her subtle way to brag about how much money she has
Her problem is that she has too much money
And she has forgotten what it’s like to not have it
Oh, she probably has some sob story like everyone else about growing up poor
Or that she “knows what it’s like” to not have money
But she’s forgotten about it now
She doesn’t remember what it’s like to not have milk in the fridge, bread on the table or gas in the tank
She doesn’t know what it’s like to have to choose what bills she’ll pay this week
Could she manage without water or electricity?
Could she tell her kids to do with out lunch for the next couple of days?
So people who can’t afford to take annual family vacations to exotic, expensive tropical islands in the Caribbean
And can’t always afford bread and milk or to fill the gas tank every week
And have to choose between water or electricity
And don’t have a maid
And can’t afford to send their kids to college
Don’t want to hear you complain about your God damn money problems!
_________________________________________________________
Divine Crusaders
Written: 8-9-06
Picture a man
Bible in his hand
Speaking at the head of a pulpit
Controlling through fear for 2000 years
And you have an idea of the culprit
Picture a money obsessed
Televangelist
Fire and brimstone preacher
More like a whore
From Babylonian lore
Than one of God's holy teachers
Make no mistake
Religion is fake
A multi - billion dollar corrupt corporation
Verbalizing mental masturbation
To a gullible TV population
Run by Divine Crusaders
Warping religious iconography
Venereal Virgin Mary pornography
I won't believe in ancient superstitions
Spoken from the mouths of modern Polichristians
The self proclaimed leaders of God's war
For souls upon the earth
For a small donation
He'll pray for your rebirth
The sick and the dying look to them for answers
Put your hand on the screen
POW!
You're cured of cancer
Stealing money the legal way
From those naive enough to give it
They sure can talk it
But they sure don't live it
Their accountability is gone
When the camera's are on
They blame the Devil for their own indiscretions
So they can explain away their own perverted intentions
They're only sorry when they're hauled away to jail
I've often wondered how they hide their horns and tail
Apologies for embezzlement always ring dry and hollow
Deceit by the disciple is a bitter pill to swallow
I won't listen to anything they have to say
I'll wait patiently while their empire decays
We should all move on and leave religion behind
They know I'll go to Hell for speaking my mind
I won't live my life by words on a page
They'll never put my mind in a cage
I choose to worship the people I choose to love
But maybe that's not good enough for the man up above
And now it's time to put this thing to rest
When I die, I'll look God in the eye
And say, "Father, I tried my best"
_________________________________________________________
Flower
Written: 6-22-05
YOU
With out-stretched palm
Arms opened wide
Welcoming the lost boy home from Never Neverland
Replanting the amputated flower, whose roots are shriveled but begging to be replanted
You with a broken pot to grow in
Had no pot to p*ss in
Making floral arrangements to take him in
But rarely watering or nurturing
Ignoring it in the corner of your mind, away from the sunlight
Hoping it will die so you can throw it in the brown trash can reserved for lawn clippings like so much garbage
Hoping the trash man will remove it from your door step
And forget that it ever happened
ME
The amputated flower
With only a broken pot to grow in
And no pot to piss in
I replant myself and bloom and reproduce and grow strong despite you
I will plant your memory in the darkest vacancy of my mind
And watch you wilt and shrivel
Until you grow brittle and die
Like so many floral arrangements discarded after a funeral
While I evolve and transform and re-invent myself
No longer in your corner
But forever basking in the warm summer sun
________________________________________________________
Happy
Written: 7-1-06
When you're being beaten to death by your own stupidity
And when all the pain you've caused comes back to infect your conscience like cancer
And when you're on your death - bed choking on words that you said to hurt others
And the last note of that fucking annoying Beatles song has faded from the ears of the last mourner to leave your funeral
And your rotting, rancid, stinking flesh has fallen from your bones and turned to dust and has been forgotten about in a six foot hole in the earth
And Satan himself has claimed your black soul until the end of eternity and beyond
Only then will I be happy
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HOLLYWOOD
Written : 1-18-06
Standing like a signal fire for the whole world to see
50 foot letters ignite HOLLYWOOD from the top of Mt. Lee
Into the concrete valley of the shadow of Dracula
All roads lead to it like a magnet
From places like Kansas, Wisconsin or Michigan
Where a nice kid leaves all she knows and loves with a head full of hopes and dreams and limps home with a heart full of despair and newly compromised values
There is an electricity that hovers over this magnetic movie Mecca phasod
An air of excitement on the cusp of "The Next Big Thing"
But down on the street itself boils a tension of impending, imploding disaster
No one knows this better or has seen it happen more times than the Sunset Strip or Hollywood Boulevard
Stretched out like old, used up whores
Streets that have seen better, more glamorous days
Gone are the corner drugstores where wannabe starlets of yesteryear sat down to have a soda or ice cream hoping to be "discovered"
Replaced by tacky souvenir shops where disappointed tourists buy snow globes in August
Gone are the streets lined with pepper trees and oil derricks
Replaced by tattoo shops where homeless punk rock kids bum for change to get something to eat or score more dope
Where transvestite prostitutes wait for dates
Where the hippest rock clubs in the world breed the wannabe rock stars of tomorrow that make great, cutting edge music that we love today, but deny that we ever did tomorrow
Replaced by ultra trendy restaurants where the food probably sucks, but I'll never know because I can't afford to eat there because Demi and Ashton eat there and the paparazzi hide in the bushes next door making tens of thousands of dollars snapping blurry photos of them being "normal" - God Forbid!
Where the same said celebrities hold a press conference to dictate their political and social agendas to a world that they think is hanging on their every word
Waiting to be told what is cool or what to like next or to show us how they paid their way out of murder
Where the Walk of Fame literally glitters day or night, even through the layer of filth and the stink of urine left there by bums ( not to be confused with ("Homeless Citizens")
For a nominal donation, you can have your picture taken with a Batman, a Spiderman, a Willy Wonka or various other street performers in front of the Mann's Chinese Theater, which is beautiful and dreamy, but as out of place as a Wal-mart in China
Silent movie stars sleep forever in the Hollywood Forever cemetery as silent as the movies they once starred in
Waiting patiently for company and reminding us that no matter how rich or famous we are in life, you can't take it with you and we all end up in the same place when the movie ends
There is not a new Hollywood or an old Hollywood
There's just Hollywood
Where everything I just said is wrong and so like, 2 minutes ago
But God help me, how I love it
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The Pig Leader
Written: 5-3-07
The Pig Leader
Speaks for peace
But Spends for violence
He speaks for freedom
But pays for silence
The Pig Leader smiles
As he turns the handle on the meat grinder
While our soldiers die in vain
And become statistics in a binder
The Pig Leader
Is the Media
Who exploit what we fear
And only let us see
What they think we want to hear
The Pig Leader
Can't be stopped, it's too late now
We were programmed at birth
And we don't know why or how
The Pig Leader
Is your President
Is your boss
Is the KKK
It's the Police
It's Exxon Mobil
It's the American way
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Protest This!
Written: 9-3-05
I saw some protesters
Driving home from work one day
I didn't stop to listen
Because I didn't care anyway
Maybe it was political
Or something about the war
I couldn't have cared less
To me it's just a bore
I've got better things to do
Than hold a sign and shout
And chant a clever slogan
That no one cares about
I didn't honk my horn
Or give an encouraging cheer
I didn't even look behind me
In my dirty rear view mirror
So don't ask me for money
Or to sign your silly petition
You can't tell me how to think
Because it's not your decision
If you want to make a difference
Get off your lazy ass
Drop your sign and take action
And make a statement that will last
Protesting solves nothing
The Hippies proved this true
Someone else will come along
And protest you!
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Redemption Day
Written: 10-27-05
When too many ill feelings pass between people, memories that once tasted like summer fall like rotten fruit from a dying tree
At 16, he waited for redemption
His heart was confined to a concentration camp of despair
Given to him by his parents' own hand
Having no way of knowing that he had the keys to his own liberation all along
Not realizing and especially not caring that his own redemption has been in his own back pocket
And that only he can save himself
That fateful day came under a hazy august morning
Redemption came
And went
It wasn't what he thought it would be
It wasn't what he wanted it to be
His face turned red, grew hot
His head exploded with thoughts of betrayal and violence
It was too much to bear
How naive, he thought
His savior was actually a demon in disguise
The day dreams of a boy no longer fit inside a man's head
He suffocates at the edge of the landfill of human wreckage
Feeling disconnected
Longing for what is not his to hold on to
Feeling a million other things I can't process right now
Angry. In denial. Fuck it, man
Then one day the sun came up and he understood
He got it
Only he alone could redeem himself
So he did
Today he lives anonymously in a small town in California
He is happy and well adjusted
The fruit tastes sweet again, even though the tree is dead
But every so often, a cool morning breeze awakens slumbering memories
And again he suffocates
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Rot
Written: 4-22-11
For Arah
So what do you think happens
While you lay in your grave?
Did you say some Hail Mary’s
And thought that you’d be saved?
A rotting suit of flesh
Is all your life’s reward
There is no Heaven
No Devil, no Lord
Go to church once a week
Your common sense is raped
Wallets pillaged, minds plundered
And all they preach is hate
Hate for Muslims, hate for queers
Hate for other Christians
Hate for liberals
Hate for me
Who don’t fit in their system
Mind control and fear
Is what they have to sell
Buy the lie or when you die
You’ll burn in Dante’s Hell
God is ok
But his fan club sucks
Harvesting gullible minds
With their own hard earned bucks
You have your opinion
And I have mine
You think you’re the wiser
And to me, that’s fine
So go to church on Sunday
Like faithful little sheep
And disregard this poem
By a Godless, heathen creep
As for religion
I think I’m gonna pass
Keep your Sabbath holy
And I’ll keep my cash
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Sunday Morning Cons
Written: Circa 1988
Sunday morning
Time to watch the cons
Religion on T.V.
From dusk til dawn
These men are so amazing
These men cure the dying
A slap to your forehead
Leaves your mind crying
If you don't believe me
You can watch him live
He'll cleanse you of sin
For $19.95
These men will accept you
For who you are
As long as you own
A major credit card
It's business as usual
Embezzlement and fear
Special discount price
Cause the end is near
If you don't believe me
You can watch him on the news
Film at eleven
Caught with whores and booze
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The Social Collapse and Assumed Death of Southern Hospitality
Written: 8-25-10
If Southern Hospitality is alive, where did it go?
Did the wind blow it to a more favorable location somewhere in the Midwest where it would be better appreciated?
Small towns breed small minds
Where the people are click-ish and can be just as insincere and fake as the celebrities they follow in the grocery store tabloids
Where their suspicions of any one they aren't related to and who aren't from their corner of Dixie allow them to smile and invite you to their church
While they talk shit about you behind your back and show what poor, two faced Christians they really are
If it died, is it buried somewhere we can weep over its grave and mourn it as a lost childhood memory?
What killed it?
Is it the systematic collapse of basic human kindness and the erosion of social skills?
Has social networking and education dehumanized Dixie?
I guess you can only take one person at a time at face value until their narrow minded prejudices surface and burn you
I think if Southern Hospitality ever existed,
It’s dead now...
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Talk Show Loser
Written: 5-26-04
Talk Show Loser
I see you on the tube
Screaming obscenities
And acting like a boob
I watch to remind me
That my life is not so bad
And for that I thank you
You mullet headed hag!
You came on the show
So that you could tell you wife
You've been cheating on her
All your wretched two faced life
She acts surprised and angry
When you finally drop the bomb
Then she tells you she's been cheating
With your neighbor,your sister,the dog and your mom
Now she's playing defense
With this lousy thing to say
Guess what loser?
Your son has your brothers DNA
A fight erupts on stage
And of course it's no surprise
The host begs for order
As someone gouges out his eyes
His nose is gushing blood
And he just spit out a tooth
The sponsors line up around the block
Cause the ratings go through the roof
Talk Show Loser
Fat redneck
I'm glad I'm not your friend
Cause my life would be a wreck
White Trash,trailer park
Wife beating king
Nappy headed,snaggle toothed
Baby making prom queen
I've heard it all
I've seen enough
You embarrass your generation
I've seen you before
I'll see you again
But for now
I'll change the station
Talk Show Loser!
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Throwing it all away
Written: 3-26-13
You throw words like knives
Aimed always at my heart
Straight for the bullseye like a champion archer who never missed the mark
My heart bleeds with every cliche and stale figure of speech you can attach to it
Numbed by the pain
Draining me until I nearly lose consciousness
Seeing the bright light of peace and quiet in the distance
Only to be rudely revived by the shrill piercing of your angry voice and another volley of words finding their mark
Repeated enough times until you have used every word in your arsenal and are satisfies that I have been sufficiently beaten down and can offer no further resistance
Resistance is futile- you win again
It's never been any other way
And I suppose never will be
My heart is sick as I find a safe place to take stock of the damage inflicted and contemplate my wounds
Sick to think we may be slipping away from each other
Like two countries at war because they had nothing left to say
My heart is sick and sad
To think we may be throwing it all away
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What God Do You Kill For?
Written: 9-13-10
Man invented God so he wouldn’t feel so alone in the world and to explain what he didn’t understand
Then he invented religion to use God and fear to control others
Then he collected a book full of folklore and stories from other cultures based on half truths and hearsay
Then he set out to use this book to justify making war, murdering, subjugating, civilizing and converting other cultures that couldn’t read and had no use for it anyway. Tribal cultures that lived close to the earth and took care of each other and were content without it
Then he used it as a means to control the minds of those he conquered and condemn the ones he couldn’t. He used it like a virus to spread fear, hate, and hysteria. They were labeled as Witches, Heathens, Pagans, Heretics, Pariah’s, Anti Christ’s and again used the book to justify casting them out of mainstream society, and condemning them to execution by hanging, drowning, torture and burning them at the stake.
2000 years later, here we are, still being controlled by it. Buying into the lie. Being programmed from birth not to question it. Celebrating the horrific trail of blood and gore they left for us to follow
Those of us that do question it or reject these institutions are still labeled, rejected, looked down upon, pitied and condemned to burn in Hell
The Heathen in each of us has been buried; beat down, suppressed, civilized, subjugated and forgotten about.
I am not controlled by a 2000 year old book of superstition and folklore based on hearsay, half truths, fear and hate. I am not controlled by a book that is open to interpretation. I don’t have 2000 years of blood and guilt on my hands. I have a brain and it will not be bent to someone else’s will.
So for every Damned Christian I’ve ever known who was afraid I would be a bad influence on them, who tried to stab, beat and strangle me with hateful words of superior self righteousness and piety and condemned me to burn in Hell, I say……..
I am content to reject these imposed institutions.
I am content to be a Godless Heathen than a religious zealot
I have no beef with your God; its his fan club that I can’t stand
So what God do you kill for?
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White Collar Rebel
Written: 4-5-08
Hey there White Collar Rebel
Presiding over your multi-million dollar empire
Behind your imported teak wood desk that destroyed a quarter acre of prime rain forest trees to make
I guess you figured out that revolution doesn't pay the mortgage or Hawaiian vacations or face lifts for your bra burning, former feminist wife
Where did that idealistic 20 year old go who thought he could bring revolution and change to the world with peace and love?
Where did that kid go who marched in the streets and braved police batons in the summer of '68?
Where did that 22 year old go that joined the Peace Core showing third world peasants how to live like civilized westerners?
What happened to your heroes who provided the soundtrack to your revolution?
They're providing the soundtrack to car commercials and on line stock trading that you buy
Where are all your fellow revolutionaries now?
Except for a few hardcore, die hard burnouts, I guess you figured out that revolution doesn't pay off after all
If you can't beat them, then bury your revolutionary ideas and values somewhere you can never find them and join the status quo
Congratulations, White Collar Rebel
You are now an elder statesman in the establishment that you tried so hard to bring down
It's an interesting commentary on how time and capitalism can kill a man's value system
I guess you figured out that revolution is not a viable commodity
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