Blues for April 7Tell me something good, tell me something nice.Today I got up early and heard all the bad news twice.I turned on my lamp but the bulb was burned out.My candles were whispering, but I needed them to shout.I heard about a politician and a crowd he shook and stirred.If he couldn't tell a lie, he could not speak a word. Now the trombones in the alley are getting on my nerves.And when I looked in the pantry, I was out of peach preserves.Nine, eight, seven, six - four, three, two, one.Five did not answer when I called it to come.Once I was a young lion but now my mane is gray.That is all right with me, I take it day by day.I've got ninety-nine locks and ninety-eight keys.If you have the last one, would you send it to me please.
Elephant SpeaksI knew that I could dance - I knew.The animals that can are few.It's parrots, people, and then me.What is it that we share, we three?Put down your hook, you young mahout.Play me the Beatles' "Twist and Shout."
A mirrorI have a mirror that shows another face.I have a face that asks to hear a song. I have a song with room for light.I have light that is the red inside every color.I have a color that is waiting for its name.I have a name that means tenderness.I have tenderness caught in a mirror.
Sonnet V: The GladeThe drowsy blossoms, white and unawareHung upon the heavy branches headyAs the sweetness in the air, and with meYou walked beneath those hawthorns full and fair.I now say that I love without compareThat grove with flowers strung on ev'ry treeThat path we took, so dark and so lovelyI did not know how much I'd love it there.But I cannot think how to find such shadeWithout your hand entwined and warming mineAnd now it seems our dreams we once had madeHave we, afraid, now all of them betrayed.Yet if you'll take the berries; I the wineAgain we'll find each other in that glade.
the simple truth...he took one breathandbehold!(the world)stars opensleep pendingand allis lovebetween
Everyone Saying Why BluesEveryone is saying, "Why?"but everybody knows.Everyone is saying, "Why?"but everybody knows.They were bowing to the emperorwhen they knew he had no clothes.Everyone is saying, "Why?"but everybody sees.Everyone is saying, "Why?"but everybody sees.Those who have too much moneywill do just as they please.Everyone is saying, "Why?"but I'm telling you, son.Everyone is saying, "Why?"but I'm telling you, son.You can't make truth from a lieby giving it a gun.
No kinda artistI Ain't No Kinda ArtistI ain't no kinda artistIt's obvious to meI can't paint anthrax paintingsEspressoism... who he?My head gets all a-jumbleWith all the words they gotIt makes me want to rumbleAnd defend the thing I gotHumility flys out the doorWhenever I go inAnd even though they talk the talkto me it seems a sin.I would've gone to art schoolTo me it cost a lotUntil I learned they make you dosome stuff I'd rather notI like to paint the picturesI like to write the wordsBut I ain't no kinda artistI'd rather be a nerd.A nerd can go about his dayJust doing what he doBut an artist got to toe the lineand join the Captain's Crew.Now I don't blame the artistsfor giving me the bootBut I won't be reconstructedAnd I don't give a hoot
For the Victims of OrlandoFlags are flying at half mast.Lower them all the way down,then wrap them aroundthe senators who obeythe N.R.A. Wrap themindividually and use everyflag, until there are severaldozen massive balls of red,white, and blue with a senatorat the center of each one.Roll them out of D.C.,roll them far away.Salute the flag as it goes by.
Distress SignalSurpassingly powerful aliens on Star Trekwere fond of trial by combat to judge betweenraces or ethical concepts, and such aliensmust have set up the U.S. presidential electionthis year. But as usual they are mistaken -they created the wrong contest and selectedthe wrong contestants. O starship Enterprise,enter standard orbit around planet Earth.O James T. Kirk, help us.
heartless.her heart left on a roadtrip long ago,leaving a yellow paper note in its place reading 'don't look for me'.so now she lives with her head and lungs and tells me she doesn't miss it.and i believe her.
HowlMy third eye seeswhat the clouds hideand I howl.
the difference between usI’ve spent far too much timefeeling small compared to you,weaving a nest of uncertainty,nursing doubt in my chestlike a small bird.far too recently, I realisedthat I’d been dealing inabsolutes,and the universe does not lend itselfto those.to a true titana giant is a pygmy;scale, not size, matters.
Fires in WinterA frost creeps white across the grassand crunches underfoot;and tendrils of a freezing mistswirl everywhere I look.The air is cold and crystalline,it burns my teary cheek,but deep within the coldest climesremains the searing heatof ardours born in seasons pastthat through the long, dark winters last.