Poetry

It Should Never Rain at Night

1
The rain was falling downward, downward,
(Angry protest in the night),
When there came the cloud of “languish”
Drifting slowly into sight.

2
Caress me now, o winds of boredom!
Lazy rains, weigh down my eyes.
Sing to me the rotting promise,
Chant to me the perverse cries:

3
Water rippling, spreading outward,
Light and color shimmer by;
Night the time of obscene gurglings,
Twisted dreams all gone awry.

4
Melody of hopeless being,
Promise of a dissonant tune,
Cry now, loud now, lift your voice now
High above the brazen moon.

5
Sing the song that has no ending,
Chant the anthem of the night,
Listen deeply to the music:
Song of hatred, song of fright.

6
Once more whisper ere departing
Words that often are unsaid,
Beg of night its precious largesse,
Pray you now that you are dead.

I Am Born Tomorrow

I am born tomorrow
and was new again, a wish
for someone better
— or as good –
But at least for something new.

I was stale once
twice
often even but
Now
I am nubile
Twelve years old
With squeaky voice
(Gee it’s nice to know it all once again):

This time I’ll be even better at
being new
because
I’ve had so much practice at it.
Like returning to a favorite restaurant and not needing the menu.
Smooth and professional.
A professional child.

Grand Canyon

Water turning, churning, boiling,
Swirling, whirling and turmoiling,
Digging deeper, steeper walls
As the muddy river falls
Deeper yet into the darkness
Leaving blackened walls of starkness
‘Neath the vivid pillared red
High above the river bed.

Epilogue

“I have wandered far, my father;
I am the prodigal son.
I am the one whose bitter words
Have caused you infinite pain.
I am come to journey’s end
Where the towers stand guard –
At Gotham’s gate.
Swing closed the doors behind me,
Entrap the pregnant air.
Ever know this, where the land dies so dies the spirit.
And when atrophy is etched into the fiber of a people
Atrophy becomes the people. They are at one.
They are coequal.
They pervade.
They dominate.
They destroy ….

Dusk

When the amber sky of evening rests its weary head upon the hillside
To capture a fleeting look at the eastern stars,
Then I climb to the brook that rests noncommittally over the hill
And listen to the sounds of the unadulterated dusk.

The night people come like obscene shadows on drawn curtains
To drink the coolness of the waters, or curse the stinginess of the skies;
And I would count them one by one
And know them by their hour, and their place.

The air is what I love at day’s ending;
For it carries with it all the morning’s dew,
And I can breathe it into every pore I own
And cheat the splendor of the proud and boastful dawn.

Battle Hymn of the Republic-The Sequel

The very earth turned bitter beneath the plodding feet
As the drums and trumpets sounded the lament of retreat.
The very skies were ashen and the rivers ceased to flow,
The bending backs were lifeless and the pock-marked heads hung low.

Each man was naught but shadow in a swirl of drifting snow
And the pounding heart within him meant for less than he could know.
The figures moved before him and the ghosts tramped loud behind
As the curse of dreams decaying bore its cancer of the mind.

Now the very heavens weep, convulse and rack and churn,
That men who lived such noble lives became interred in turn.
How absurdity and irony find true refinement here –
That brave young Gods should fall in war with none to shed a tear.

Take No Prisoners

Higgely piggely marking time
writing down this nonsense rhyme.
Soothing nerves that cramp and tense,
Hoping rhythm leads to sense.

Setting traps and falling in
Where the victim should have been.
Making plans and plotting ploys
Like life’s a game, emotions toys.

Take us prisoners, he said.
Just willing partners for his bed.
But all of this is just a joke,
To capture her with silky smoke.

Take no prisoners, you say?
He’s hers. She’s his. Have a good day.

8-21-83

Sex Stream

It bothers me you let me have you,
Flesh so cheap and willing
(spilling) cavern filling –
Sonofabitch and somebody’s daughter.

Touch her much and tastely twitching,
Turning worming, overboiling,
Damned itching, always switching,
Crying shaking laughing bitching.

Would I could
(and you said I should)
sleep with you some time,
that’s fine.

So,
let’s get married, godforbid
our children
should be bastards, —
and not mine.

I slept with God
in homosexual pleasure and
— frankly –
Erotically considered,
the Lord is much inferior
to you.

One Untimate Priority

Breathing pulsing bouncing primping,
Looking for the perfect humping,
Sweating on the couch, the floor,
Fearing sounds heard thru the door.
Clutching at the hour, blood crashing.
Daring just this once, teeth gnashing.
Grinding lips and stroking hips,
Probing hollows, biting tips.
Gentle moans and softer suckings –
But poems can’t explain such fuckings.
Write it down? Throw out each version.
Leave not one record of perversion.

It’s bad enough you have to rape her.
Just never write it down on paper.

8-21-83

Ol’ Lil’s Little List

This is dedicated to ol’ Lil’s Little Lists
That I always must refer to, just to see what I have missed.

I remembered well the movie – lots of planning for that night
As we slinked thru distant suburbs, ducking from each stark light.

I remembered to sleep over – all so very intime
And definitely endearing in its oh so special way.

I’m working on the week-end, and I’m hoping for a trip
Tho I’ve changed my travel agent, so no one makes a slip.

It’s just I’m never certain that I’m getting all this right,
And you’re entitled to full measure, and I don’t intend to slight.

It is now a gift you’re wanting? Is the theater overdue?
Please understand, my darling; I can do much more than screw!

Now that I know I’m average, I want to play the game
As well as any average Joe who’s doing just the same.

So, when I ask you for it, please don’t think I’m pissed:
I’m really much in need of ol’ Lil’s Little List.