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He Means Well
He
means well with his taxidermy smile,
and his voice an accusing yell in the demographic style.
But he doesn't really know what he stood for long ago,
So he'll set a spell and it's just as well.
From the echoing retreat of his padded cell he means so well.
He means well with his dime store posturings,
in an orgy of angst and blame though he hasn't lost a thing.
With an unremitting scowl, he'll insist on crying foul
though the charges fell like an empty shell.
Though the plummet brings a doubt that he can't dispel,
he means so well.
Couldn't tell you how he ended up clutching at the rail.
You bet it makes him queasy swallowing his tail.
But to play the jury wasn't quite what I meant to do -
I know that he knows that I meant well too.
He means well.
Uh-oh.
He means well as he fights what has to be.
(Though he fights like Sherman, everything is predetermined.)
And his efforts to turn the tide hasten the catastrophe.
(While we're on the topic, the results were catastrophic.)
If I wasn't so adept at declaring him inept,
I might join the swell and I'd dis and tell.
But I'd die if I should hear everybody yell, "He means so well."
Once
upon a fairy tale a flimy man wore lavender and lace.
Soon
the lie was gospel.
If
this gospel saves, it's only saving face.
Now
the crop you once mistook for pansies
Are
all wilted nearly flat as the earth erodes for want of water
And
you say I'll drink to that.
It's
kill or cure.
That's
how you get the odd man out.
You're
pretty sure you've never met the odd man out, but dear there's one right here.
Won't
someone let the odd man out
Now
the brother you would make a stranger knocks,
But
answer comes there none as you swear the table set for many
Has
just room enough for one.
And
there's even talk that God is going to take sides in this debate,
As
he spurns his handi-work and say-
Oh
Christ, what thing did I create?
Of
two born equal in their soul, one's a fraction, one is whole.
Ot
that's how we're taught to see.
What
hurts the most is what's unseen-
this
transparent quarantine.
And
we still let it be
Lite Of The World
We
might end up back on all fours, ecause there's one thing that endures:
The
rigamarole that someone calls a soul but I call a habit.
How
do we flourish in this din while staying marvelously thin?
A
monitor that will block all the fat before we can grab it.
I
feel the brilliant glow caressing me.
Couldn't
this blessing be the lite of the world?
When
all the killing gets so serial,
Let's
get etheral in the lite of the world.
What
medicine can keep us numb?
This
predigetsed pabulum, so pleasant and warm -
It
doesn't inform, it only gets faster.
It's
even obvious to me that optimism seems to be in tenor
And
pitch a discipline which I never could master
Lights
as a breeze that addles the head,
As
frothy as cheese that's ready to spread -
Whatever
he sees, wherever he tread the banner unfurled.
But
none of the screams and none of the cries can enter his dreams
Or
open his eyes, 'cause caught in the beams they dwindeld in size
And
curled in the lite of the world.
We
lite- en yogurt, Coke and beer and make religion out of fear with sex
And,
of course, a dash of remorse to tickle and tease us.
That's
why I'd never be enticed to touch the God they call the Christi,
But
still maybe I might sleep with the guy who calls himself Jesus.
Earthquake Weather
At the ATM,
the camera captured them.
Trust was broken from its brittle stem.
Like the lottery, it happens randomly.
Feel so helpless to rewrite your destiny.
Now that my sister has a rifle of her own, tomorrow has no tether.
That itchy trigger finger shivers to the bone.
This eerie calm - the sweat that forms upon your palm -
Tells you it's earthquake weather.
Well, the blame's not hers.
She hastily avers, "I'm only threatend by anything that stirs.
Here's the gun I got - I'm a pretty decent shot!"
Nervous giggles punctuate the polyglot.
When you're married to fear, an affair with control doesn't seem so immoral.
But this fast food for thought that is starving your soul
Leaves it far too anemic to question
The role of the flaccid bravura you've bitten off whole.
And if that's how you settle the score
All your remembrances tend to be floral.
When the earthquake thrust the cracked sarcophagus,
Trust was dead as Osimandias.
We can only rest with the trigger half depressed.
If that's the answer, may I sugeest we change the question?
Now that my sister has a rifle of her own, tomorrow has no tether.
The fattened jungle law crawls back upon its throne.
This eerie calm - the sweat that forms upon your palm -
Tells you it's earthquake weather.
If this is the answer, may I make a suggestion?
If this is the answer, better find a new question.
Morose Colored Glasses
Sweet
reminiscence glows like the poison in the air
That
lends incandescence to sunset.
"So,
why should I care?" everyone knows a dullard asks.
So
I'll just stare through my morose colored glasses.
All
God's creatures pose with an empty hour glass,
Keane
painting features the sole defense this army has.
"What
good are those?" a dullard asks,
So
just please just pass me my morose colored glasses.
Man In A Hurry
It seems
that certain willful acts made me a stranger to the facts,
But no one ever said this was a race.
So pardon if I find it rash - this breathless sprint, this madcap dash
To etch the map of life into your face.
He's a man in a hurry, I don't know how fast; the speedometer's blurry.
But oh, he just can't wait to get this over and done.
He's a man in hurry. If only somebody could make him unsure he should go,
Then won't you let me be the one?
Columbus
need not look too hard 'cause right ouside his own back yard's
The gutter where he says he plans to build
His loneliness as destiny. But is that facile prophecy
Half empty or is it half self-fulfilled?
He's a man
in a hurry, I don't know how fast; the speedometer's blurry.
But oh, he just can't wait to get this over and done.
He's a man in hurry. If only somebody could make him unsure he should go,
Then won't you let me be the one?
I admire
the strength it takes to deny all light and hope,
But that doesn't mean I'm going to help you buy the rope.
And there's plenty of rope.
So though
he retches and he gags, I'd rather dance like stupid fags
Than pose like stupid gangster gigolos.
But if all proceeds as planned, he'll go to Never-never land
Where never is the only word he knows.
He's a man
in a hurry, I don't know how fast; the speedometer's blurry.
But oh, he just can't wait to get this over and done.
He's a man in hurry. If only somebody could make him unsure he should go,
Then won't you let me be the one?
Gaper's Club
There's
some things that we all know no man ought to witness.
Oh, but I'm
looking through my fingers all the time.
Someone must have robbed the zest from this global splatterfest,
But
I'm looking through my fingers all the time.
When there's no way to make it stop, and all your jaw can do is drop,
Join the Gaper's Club. Stare in disbelief!
Shade your eyes to keep from going blind.
Gaper's Club, couldn't we debrief?
Counting the gunslingers, put through the dead wringers, looking through my
fingers all the time.
Shattered
kneecaps, nothing less, will make the innocent confess
But I'm
looking through my fingers all the time.
Promised that I would not stare when they rode the lightning chair,
But I'm
looking through my fingers all the time.
Of course it's all at safe remove, through cathode ray and vacuum tube
For the Gaper's Club. Stare in disbelief!
Shade your eyes to keep from going blind.
Gaper's Club, couldn't we debrief?
Couting the gunslingers, the "I hate everything"-ers, looking through
my fingers all the time.
I watched
the criminalization of the pause it takes to form a lucid thought,
But each new horror that is met with mad applause
Just draws a blank so I'll never get caught.
In one
final blinding flash the pillars holding heaven crash,
But I'm
looking through my fingers all the time.
It leaves a vacuum so bereft, there's not even an echo left
But I'm looking through my fingers all the time.
And still I'm groping for the switch; one last involuntary twitch
For the Gaper's Club. Stare in disbelief!
Shade your eyes to keep from going blind.
Gaper's Club, couldn't we debrief?
Put through the dead wringers, how the odor lingers!
Looking through my fingers all the time.
At all the
hopeless and their scraping Im gaping.
At holy murderers escaping I'm gaping.
At all the Betacam is taping I'm gaping.
That Beautiful World
When
we opened the basement the battered cadaver looked brittle and small
Not
a world weary gumshoe could say what occurred.
Then
it blinked and it coughed and it sputtered - it wasn't quite dead after all.
It
was only the shell of that beautiful word.
There
was talk of unsavory methods and wills that were broken and crushed
but
it seemed so alarmist and vague and absurd
till
the grim light of dawn hit this vessel whose own very soul had been hushed.
Tell
me what have we have done to that beautiful word?
That
beautiful word fell like the sky.
What
kind of lullaby turns love into a lie?
Say,
haven't you heard? Letters this high spell out the reason why: lie.
First
we drugged it with bald self-importance, then rented it out like a whore.
Fire
and brimstone was always the payment preferred.
When
it lay down with power and religion it couldn't get up anymore.
That's
the way we crippled that beautiful word.
I
can't even remember how it came how to be cursed.
But
whatever the meaning now it means the reverse.
We
used alchemy backwards to make lead out of gold.
Now
this quivering cipher does whatever it's told.
We
learned nothing from interrogation but how to turn faith into frost.
Now
not even the glow of a cigarette stirred.
Fear
came on little rat feet too late, and our own were the voices we lost
like
the orphan we made of that beautiful word.
*Espresso
Break
Disappointed by aspirations he could not confess
Even To Himself
imprisoned by disappointments he could not confess
Even To Himself
Learning first hand about the second
An expectation at once dear,
Bourgeois,
So inadmissible,
And altogether gone
I Had My Chance
Midnight:
now I get to turn into the pumpkin
I tried to dress as a man for a while.
Jack-knife: while a little cut,
This Jack - o - lantern gets to wear his idiot smile.
But baby, I thought I heard you say this could get ugly-
Telling me as though I don't already know.
Baby, I couldn't give away the shadow of the thing we called romance.
I know I had my chance.
How I wish I could erase the question mark
That's waiting at the end of every caress.
Now I know the phrase "Too Late" is an understatement,
So I'll smile and confess...
If love could save us wouldn't we be saved?
If tears could save us, wouldn't we be saved?
If doubt could save us, wouldn't we be saved?
That's Our Secret
You
said, "Our Love it will last forever -
At
least until it starts getting dark."
That's
how I knew that we belonged together
Like
a tornado and a trailer park.
That's
our secret: It was our creed that the void that we shared
Somehow
meant that we cared.
That's
our secret- we both agreed that love is love ensnared.
You
bet I don't need any diagram edged in lace
To
tell me what's nature's law.
Watson
could tell the both of us were damaged
So
I could nestle inside your flaw.
That's
our secret. Under the carpet there's not any room
So
just put down that broom.
Rehearsal
Once again
you practice telling me you won't feel clean 'til we're washed up,
Posing with debris the ebb tide on the sea of love has left tossed up.
And still you strain to lend some gravity to this old verse,
Although you know it's only a rehearsal.
I can't
tell the panic from relief each time you swear our love has ended,
But before the curtain hits the stage it seems the run has been extended.
So now, and right on cue, I know I'll cringe and cry and curse
Although I know it's only a rehearsal.
So when I
hit my mark, and repeat that I don't know what you mean,
I know it's not a scene even worth stealing.
When the theater's dark and "The End" should be written on the screen,
I hear you calling out, "Once more, with feeling."
We become
convincing in our roles, and then the strain begins to tell.
If we ever make opening night, it will be closing night as well.
So though we are prepared for any stage fright or reversal,
I pray that it's still only a rehearsal.
I pray that it's still only a rehearsal.
But It Didn't
Once the
rumour (like perfume or
Petals in the air, that change was everywhere and peace would arrive)
Flashed a spark across the arc of sky,
And
lit the fable that we might be able to keep it alive.
But baby, you'd better hold on with both of your hands,
Or maybe you'll have to start making some other plans.
Voices raised to heaven made you feel like something might have happened, but it
didn't.
Fingers on
remote pause on the grainy UPI of broken mothers crying "Never again."
Time and distance make resistance
Quaint and somehow frail, and always doomed to fail just like it did then.
But baby, you'd better hold on with both of your hands,
Or maybe you'll have to start making some other plans.
Voices raised to heaven made you
Feel like something might have happened, but it didn't.
If your
eyes are dry, you'd better go back to the fountain.
If your eyes are dry, then go back to the well.
If your eyes are dry, then you know you shouldn't count the wringing of hands as
the ringing of bells.
Free at
last to kick some ass, you cling to saying that the murder was a matter of
degree.
Vows you made might start to fade like
Wishes made upon a star that's only a celebrity.
So baby, you'd better hold on with both of your hands,
Or maybe you'll have to start making some other plans.
Voices raised to heaven made you feel like something might have happened, but it
didn't.
You know something might have happened, but it didn't.
Reasonable Man
Something
familiar in this face;
That documentary on the Civil War had men almost as dead.
To cherish life, to live in grace; is that what this experience is for?
Well that's what someone said.
But that would take a reasonable man,
Who says "To everything a season,"
Doing what
he can 'cause he's such a reasonable man.
We looked
at birthday photographs,
Secretly counting all the ones who died -
Now scraps inside a book.
If someone could, they'd have to laugh.
Ten little Idians, and now there's nine.
You're in this picture, look:
A picture
of a reasonable man who says "To everything a season,"
Doing what he can 'cause he's such a reasonable man.
If it feels
so arbitrary, could it be that it is?
Reason has a weakness: to seek patterns in this disarray.
The lush
convenience of belief; eternity imparts a mystic glow.
Where faith and reason meet, there is no sting.
But why so cheap with rage and grief?
They lied. The Shadow doesn't really know,
But I know one thing.
I'll never be a reasonable man who says "To everything a season,"
Doing what he can 'cause he's such a reasonable man.
The Fool Is Back Upon The Hill
Landslide,
now you'd better tie your bib on, 'cause from now we're eatin' crow for sure.
Tongue-tied with a little yellow ribbon; I guess we won't be saying grace no
more.
Oh, we discard our children like junk mail,
So smack your lips and nudge your wife
And quip that silence equals life.
'Cause now
the fool is back upon the hill,
oh, counting every dream that he can kill.
Oh, the man who claims to understand has made a crime of holding hands,
and now that school is out the fool is back upon the hill.
Losing all
the rights you once called human, except our favorite which is to be cruel.
Oh it's so confusing. Now the video will zoom in and hold the lovelorn up to
ridicule.
Oh, as we disenfranchise everyone,
Let's celebrate the swearing in
A weasel dressed in po' folk skin.
'Cause now
the fool is back upon the hill,
Oh, counting every dream that he can kill.
Oh - woh Hallelujah! Everyone will know we're Christians by our guns,
And now that school is out the fool is back upon the hill.
At the
grave of millions he choked back a couple reptile tears and then
Sir T.V. Friendly prayed we don't avert our eyes from evil once again - no not
again.
Well, look who's talking - he gave himself away, but no one heard the things he
had to say
'Cause thrilled and slightly out of breath to get to choose our own slow death,
Wwe helped the fool get back upon the hill.
Oh, we
accept New Orders from on high:
To ruin nations on the pyre -
Put out the lights but not the fire.
'Cause now
the fool is back upon the hill,
Counting every dream that he can kill.
It's the way in times like these to blame the sick for the disease,
So join the thin-lipped chipmunk race to slap the future in the face
'Cause now the fool is back upon the hill.
Now I Understand
Now
I understand how things get broken.
Now
I understand how things slip by.
We
could not invent a two part harmony - just better ways to lie,
And
reasons not to try to face the work at hand.
Now
I understand.
Now
I understand how dreams get hollow.
Now
I understand how hopes must fall.
Though
I wish it were, it's not a metaphor for anything at all.
It's
simply what we call the end of all we planned.
Now
I understand.
At
last I'm wise enough to say I don't believe,
But
that's a wisdom I swear I never wanted to achieve.
If
Alice dare grow up, she's granted no reprieve and banned from Wonderland.
Now
I understand.
Now
I understand this heart is empty.
Now
I understand this well is dry.
If
I'd only known the passionless response, I'd never have asked why.
But
now I can't deny I've got the answers and now I understand.
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