Past Lives

 Past Lives

I recognize the guy in the photo-

I can’t quite place his face 

I can see a certain resemblance 

but it’s nothing if not vague 

they seem to be having quite a time 

everything shines at that age 

then you get fat bald and wise 

what you wouldn’t trade for another chance 

these past lives a fiction 

who’s writing them anyways 

I was once filled with anticipation 

now eye rolls fill my belly 

past lives feel like an exception 

to this misery and fear 

who said there was life without possibility 

it’s nothing I want to hear 

I ignore the cracks in my back 

now my hands don’t wanna close 

I reach for that pen like Burroughs 

with a needle the ink then turns to smoke 

I’m gonna write my way out of this 

add another chapter 

a last minute come from behind 

explosion blown in the jaws of failure

It’s personal

 It’s Personal

Between me and the world 

it’s personal- I’ve tried to make peace 

too many times 

I’m open to discussion 

but I’ve been lied to

and I’m ready to fight

always invading my space 

with a story that doesn’t track 

got a lot of explaining to do 

I’ve moved on from there 

you’re welcome to visit my bubble 

barely room for two 

it’s really crowded 

with chocolate, records, and books 

painted green and blue 

you’re welcome to stay for a day or two 

any longer I get restless and bored 

there’s too much work to do

On your watch

 On your watch

The woman who 

discovered liberty 

said it was always 

hanging around 

people too scared 

to touch it 

preferring their 

own fears and doubts

She couldn’t wait 

any longer 

her heart wound 

like an alarm 

racing through the city 

on a black stallion 

banging out 

this song 

wake up to what’s happening 

this evil must be stopped 

the world is being poisoned 

here on your watch  

the sheriff he slept soundly 

awakened by a buzz 

straight from the factory offices

of a Mister Albert Crumb 

he said we got trouble 

someone’s found out

the sheriff knew what to do 

a sadistic fool 

he’d shoot out her legs 

then the town could stream 

what he’d do next 

right there on their watch

Gift Of Time

take everything 

it’s not mine 

never liked half of it 

chains around my neck 

I’ll spend the rest 

how I see fit 

sometimes it’s just 

staring at the sky  

enjoying this 

gift of time 

why are you in such a hurry 

the horrors will continue 

after a brief message 

from our sponsors 

come here and let’s 

light up this moment 

here in our mind 

it’s not promised

I don’t know 

how much is left 

I don’t think 

I can get more 

so let’s just 

share one last hit

this gift 

of time 

It rhymes

 It rhymes

my many enemies 

all hide inside of me 

the externals got nothing 

on my doubts and self-loathing 

I could be a cliff diver 

under my low self-esteem 

battling windmills 

like pigeons in gale force winds 

I fight I exercise and I read 

sometimes all for nothing 

just when things look 

the most bleak 

you give me a call 

and suddenly 

I’m standing 

seven feet tall in heels

Richer

 Richer

It’s a beautiful thing 

you do 

in these ugly times 

looking to the light 

just 

to remind us 

of the 

power 

in all of us 

it’s enough to just 

laugh in the face 

of these horrors

dancing 

between 

shots 

let’s not sell 

ourselves 

short or out

For a Moment

 In a moment 

In the space of a song 

in the time of a moment 

we can be somewhere 

we can feel transported 

short of a meteor 

or violent revolution 

we take our minds 

to another dimension 

with something 

delicate as a melody 

harmony 

and a rhythm 

a lyric scratched out

as inspiration dictates

in the space of

an instant 

while the faucet links 

and poverty grinds 

and we live and die 

only to decide 

it was 

beautiful 

if only 

for a moment

Prison Workout

 Prison Workout

The slit opens 

I remember I’m here 

pain dares me 

just to feel 

I greet the body 

with a sort of prayer  

then think of anything other than this 

I go down to the floor  hope I return 

every breath 

a calculated concern 

calendar on the wall  needles on the clock 

up against nerve 

muscles and blood 

halfway done  

something takes over 

the self-talk promise 

that things get better 

hope is the last thing 

that ever leaves 

wrapped up in a swirl 

of sweat and endorphins