cowchip moon
with clouds wayward scudding
our raft in time
search the sky for way stars budding
Speaking of BUDS
Beer makes you smarter
After all is made Bud wiser !
grapes of wrath
then tortilla curtain
the neocon path
will be next for certain
hear mel torme
slip in funky fog
gutter candle
light the lincoln log
life and death
memory's of joy and pain
thats all you have left
to remain entertained
plantains of truth
fingers of poets
rum and coke
banana republic
Hear the angels sing
in the rustling of the leaves
paradise rings
in the morning eve.
What do you do
when the ice won't melt?
Won't soothe the throat,
won't deliver what you felt?
When it's a quiet night
and you've watched every movie.
You have no more games to play,
you have no more friends
to throw away.
When your dreams have come
and stayed, for so long
and then flown away
on a plane to San Francisco.
You had to go--
I had to stay here.
You'll be back--
I know we will be near.
But until that day,
what do you do when
you can't see her?
Man, if you can't see her
dream her
feel her
steal her
keep her in y'head
keep her near ya
dont kidnap
that aint nice
have a nightcap
put it on ice
send her a rainbow
a robin or two
just to let her know
its real and its you
September
September draws near-
her azure skies and golden sunlight
glancing off of shallow streams and emerald verges.
Cool evenings and falling leaves remind us of endings to come
in a language as old as sorrow and sighs.
Summer has retreated-
the memory of her warm embrace nothing more than a distant dream,
as ephemeral as an unkept promise.
As the year grows old and summer sleeps-
I wonder where you are.
I must now speak for the silence!
to declare to those who care to listen,
to reveal that autumns are no omens,
not a time of death nor lifeless season,
for the trees still live,
and the animals still breathe...
Never mistake the sleeping for the dead.
the sleeping dead will arise
walk through the mist of life
see as they open their eyes
and march playing a fife
down 42nd Street
see them stopping to buy porn
for which they cannot pay
then high stepping before morn
falling when light turns gray
into their hole so sweet
do you see the world
through a strainer of blood
have you bought your gun
to add to the flood
how do you sleep nights
when there scratching the door
of homes all around
o visions of gore
shoot seventeen rounds
without reloading dude
before the uzi barks
and your visions screwed
Whoa, dude ...
anger is danger
don't laugh at the stranger
his calling card
is a finger
theycall him
the banger
he has death
in his eye
Doug, I didn't know you were a Texan.
some texans are quite scary
