Monthly Archives: January 2015

Life Changer

20 Tuesday Jan 2015

Posted by in Life, Sports

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Sports Anonymous

Weird waking up from apparent truth.

You wake to a new you, the one that failed
a wreck on the floor.

Step on him and walk away now—

Truth, justice, the American way,
no system above corruption we had
a coup too in 1963 not two, and you?

You told me sports was fun, you watched
it on TV, signed me up, it’s what was done;
be a kid, mess around, get a summer job,
go to school, college then you’re set.

I’m forty-two and not set yet.

Fight a war and “win,” where should
I start with that, I can’t hardly begin—

Peace is not a riddle; it’s written all over
the U.N. charter, beginning end and middle.

It’s easy except the Devil’s will to muck up
perfect, alter flows until who knows?

Even you can be an enemy of the state. Or
a new one create? When this one doesn’t
serve, retire to the peace in your mind
called peace of mind, knowing you did
your best take that John Wooden poster
out of your chest, fall down and get up again,
all heart and no play, makes Jack a healthy
president until they take him away…

Killed in the middle of the day. Blood and
wives, new president sworn in that red pool,
smiling and winking at his congressman friend,
LBJ—I guess he’s got a library too,

We have plenty of money to kill the enemies,
That Devil at work, convincing the shadow it’s you.

I leave and I live, have walked away from two
addictions: Sports and alcohol.

The game I played, the goals I scored, all at
the expense of the homeless man’s lack
of sleep, Jacqueline Kennedy’s PTSD,
we should have been her comfort and arrested
the men responsible for death and pain.

Instead we sent Dulles to manipulate results
away from Truth to Oswald the St. Patty’s Day
of Patsies, and we all stood stupefied,

Because if like me you had family money?

You went to college, played sports, kept
your grades up, and thanked God
for National Security.

And the U.N., shining blue in the night,
seeks our day, the light in us to shine.

Give up the sport, the fight, the clinking
golden false delight, Lord Dewar out of
sight!!

And Try. Just try…

Campaign Fund

17 Saturday Jan 2015

Posted by in Political

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I could have entitled the poem
Fuck Shit Pussy, and much of what
I wanted to say would have been said.

Emotions hover around visions of
John Adams and Jefferson, accepting
their nominations with humility
and honor, doing their best.

How much did John Adams spend
en route to victory in 1796? How much
money in political contributions did
he make?

A central bank, Hamilton’s Treasury
Department, an army in peacetime
chompin’ at the bit to fight (or else why
train?), good and evil elements spitting
through the cracks in Government…

Ah!! If only the world and life itself
could be controlled by voting.

Politics an okay pursuit, for why not
attempt to order chaos around,
it’s fun—what Da Vinci did with
some colors and a canvas, smile!

The Mona Lisa is divine…

So could our lives be; check in,
check ourselves—Change, revolve
and so let’s go back to a new
beginning. Earn our fireworks
on July 4th, aim with me a poetic
hopeful atom bomb at:

CAMPAIGN SPENDING.

Blow it up. Kill it all, turn our
will and political lives back to
effort, truth and humble acceptance
of nominations bestowed on the
deserving.

Ideas and effort, not soliciting and money—

Could you imagine like me, the beauty
in that City Hall or Capital party, the
day we turn it all over to the people,
to a better process.

Ideas having priority, age would cease to
matter, we could raise up a fifteen
year old to lead, if they had the ideas
and drive—why not?

We claim they’re the future… I give my
power away today. Past 35, we’re all in
descent, let’s get honest as our private
parts drop, encourage kids to rise up—
Let’s GO!!

You know, this could be great—we weed
out the weeds. But then there’s salary—even
Adams made a big one for public service
in politics.

The root of all evil? When pursued, yes.
When accepted as a thing among 10,000
things, taken or left—

Fine.

Public office acquired by campaign funds
to secure a career? The best solicitor wins?

This thing could be idea-run… we must
decide.

“Staying Gold?!!?”

11 Sunday Jan 2015

Posted by in Innocence, Innocence Lost

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Gold of Youth

Before the fall is the example to all;
Before we sinned, we sensed with
five senses everything we did, and
we smiled the free smile of innocence.

We must go back… How can it be done?

Is the return possible, in the smile
of another? A “forlorn and shipwrecked
brother,” who upon seeing you,
sees him or herself, takes “heart again,”
you make friends.

We make amends.

Can a government go back, and
apologize for JFK? MLK? RFK?

Vietnam? Naming a library “Nixon” and
funding it?

Simple changes can make a difference.
Call it “The National Crime Library”
and I’d surely visit…

De-classify all the documents, air the
laundry, admit when we err, and let us
grieve together the assassinations
of Peace-seekers.

Meanwhile to the War-monger I
reach out my hand… I love you, man,
and you cringe and call us homophobic
names for cigarettes and burning logs.

You cringe because you reject what
Daddy never gave you. You resent,
now, what Mom could not supply, and
instead of expressing love:

You drink alcohol and linger in
homicidal suicidal states of mind,
laughing like Beavis and Butthead in
a circle jerk of pot smoke and hidden
regret.

You want to do more, but the mountain
to climb out of pain seems too high,
too great, so let’s get high—

But I tell you now: It’s not too late.

Turn around. Justice Department:
turn around… Make this country less like
a joke, more like a newborn child.

Strive for good, be bold, and when we
err, admitting and laughing is better than
that scared proud circle of pot…

Bothering the neighbors, lying to the
press, creating your own media branch
to cloud more and more people with your
lies… You think you can hide, but the truth
is never closer than the guilt that burns
inside—let it out!!

And let us heal. And so let us return
to the Gold of Youth. Reborn, we see
no enemies but fear, FDR had something
there—

And we shake hands and die, so the truth
may in the morning sunlight live, grow, die
and live—

Die and Live, die and live, die
To Live

1st Poem of 2015:

09 Friday Jan 2015

Posted by in Religious

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Christian Subversive

I am not mainstream. I used
to be, gobbled up what you see,
a bank there, a school here;

Some day that school will feed
my 9 to 5 lack of beard.

Then I got sober…

Mainstream must be Jesus’
wide path to destruction, where
sadly, many are heading…

I am not this, not that, I still
get money from Mom and Dad—
only fair perhaps, because my
bright childhood flame
was doused with bourbon and water,
on Dad’s lap I sold my soul
to fire—

The Devil a rainbow sold
in the gold of clinking glasses, a blast from
the stinking past is… what it is:

God grant us peace, as we go from
here to do your bidding, I’m not
kidding I started a ministry when homeless
try that on for winning.

Peace, truth, the universal me and you;

God give us all and nothing less
The wisdom to know we don’t know;
the Power to give it away to you
so that we may enjoy our days
worry free, that weight off backs
no more.

I’m off the mainstream now,
A Christian subversive spouting
revolution because the status quo
doesn’t work for me.

Give kids the vote, America, disarm
Police men and women, Thou
Shalt Not Kill is still a commandment
to adhere to guys and gals, there’s
no amendment to it that says
“Justified homicide” or “in-policy”
murder.

Ahh! Don’t look at me for punishment,
look at Raskolnikov, the Devil hiding
God in your heart leaving you
to suffer when doing wrong, you run—

You cannot escape your punishment
as long as guilt still dines on the guts
of regret.

You will die yet; or choose eternal life,
come with me down the true path,
the hard but truth test, the no need
for bullet proof vest got a cross
on my chest, back and forth in
and out redress of past wounds in frilly
dresses, yes, and I’m:

A revolutionary without a gun,
call me Bill in print or cursive:

Call me Christian subversive.