You’re unbreakable, little girl.
I see it in your eyes
as you tell your story
of the ordeal endured
of a hell almost
Satanic ritual abuse.
Blood, murder, humiliation
foisted on you by your grandmother
no less, Nana and her ilk
for their god, Lucifer.
We call a lot of things suffering,
but this is beyond the pale
even in this day of the extraordinary.
The human will cannot be broken.
You’re unbreakable, little girl.
I’m glad to see this in your eyes.
C’mon baby Take me where I need to go C’mon baby Take me down real slow Had so much trouble in this town It never leave me alone Had so much of nothing Nothing never lets me go It’s getting cold out there Need to find a place to land I’m broken and used up Gotta find a silky hand I got no future Got no past to tell Get close to me baby Let me drink from your well We could make it together Live in the same old tree Could be birds of a feather Sure wish you’d agree
I’m stuck I’m stuck I can’t get up I’m stuck I’m in between I can’t formulate a theory I won’t take a stand I’m stuck like a balloon in a tree And no one is coming to get me Motion escapes me My angels forsake me I am just about ready And I don’t know what for It has come to this and this takes The cake I’ve been educated I once held a job They told me I was alive I really believed it I had a past I wanted things I could tell the difference between things I could see colors I had plans I believed I could perfect myself I was curious about everything God the nature of the universe My place in the picture Now I’m stuck In rage in savagery In ignorance and solitude The world is so solid Freedom is so far away
He sings like a demon on fire
He moves like a wildcat in heat
When he stands still he can even make the women weep
So give reign to your pain and your anger
Get up and throw off your blues
Get a monkey to befriend you
You’re right to say you’ve paid your dues
I don’t remember the man I used to be
Now I’m tired but I’m nearly free
I never look in the mirror
I don’t even want to see
Something coming up around the corner
Get a jump on me
Yes I can feel it in my ears
All I can say is I don’t want it to be
Something more than a tragedy
To all my friends in a tree
Singing your songs for me
You give me heart you bring me ecstasy
I try so hard
I try so hard
I try so hard to love you
I try so hard to live with you
I try so hard to know you
I do not know you
I cannot rule you
I am blue not gray
I am just made that way
I will just fade that way
The lamp’s down low
How low will it go
Into the dark
Our natural space
Our silly place
I try so hard
To win the race
To end the race
I try so hard
To find my place
I want to be inspired
But inspiration hides under a pile of soiled clothes.
I want to be in demand
But I’m not the man I used to be.
I want to be completely me
But I don’t know where I permanently stand on anything.
I want to do what I’ve forgotten to do
But I can’t remember what that is.
I want to be on a tropical twist with A.
But she has her obligations.
I want to get back all the wasted time
But it’s time I stopped trying to do that.
I want to be free
But from what and for what?
I want to be able to love unconditionally
Everyone everything even myself.
I want to want something,
I mean really want like I’m on fire for it.
Despite these wishes, I’m a reasonably happy person,
Which I don’t ascribe to all the drinks and dope.
I wake up in the morning To nothing much at all I let it all go thru me I don’t have much recall The never changing noises The total disrespect For any real advancement And all the same neglect Like black men sitting in prison Many innocent of crime The others that did it Obliged to make a dime I wish I could make things happen I wish I had the balls To overthrow the status quo Escape privilege once and for all I want off this merry-go-round With all the drugs and lies From the evening pundits In their shirts and their ties But I’m just a good Jewish boy Did everything I was told By books and parents Who really were quite old I’ll deal with defeat in heaven If everything goes well I’ll be right up in front Sounding a big brass bell I’ll kiss all the angels Give them each a rose Convince them to relocate Buy them some street clothes If there is a God sitting there I won’t say a word I won’t betray my bitterness About which I am not cured I imagine He’ll just nod and wink And drink up His usual praise Coming thru the Intercom From churches in a haze What do they expect from me He”ll ask What do they think I can do About all their pain and unhappiness Their problems not a few I’m just a dude with a good job I got it long ago I was elected President In a world I do not know I’ve been to hell and back I’ll tell Him steady and straight It was quite a ride for sure It makes me want to hate And now you’re in heaven you think With the man Himself I guess you want an autograph To place on your shelf No I don’t think so I’ll retort I never thought You great For being so full of yourself In everything You state You made humans the way we are That really wasn’t smart We’re just a bunch of insane beasts From the end and from the start I think you made a mistake He’ll say You came to the wrong place You need to go next door I think The Devil’s in that space Blame blame is all You know I’ll tell Him with a sneer It’s always the other guy It’s always the one You fear Fear in what You bank on Fear is what You need To keep Your fans writing cheques While they continue to bleed Your fans don’t even know who they are They only know their names You need to make them need You To referee their games Why don’t You tell them the truth of it Tell them they can be strong That they don’t have to get on their knees To live well and get along Then what would I do up here He’d say I would be all alone No more droning prayers to hear No more messages on my phone The fact of the matter is I’m not getting any younger Don’t have the energy anymore To satisfy anyone’s hunger Still people want to dream I guess Of an afterlife one day They cannot handle the alternative That they must just decay Should I destroy the illusions That keep some men afloat In a world they cannot tolerate In a world without hope To these very words I wouldn’t know what to say Illusions may be all we have To keep the world at bay
The wide blanket that covers it all,
I have a heart for you.
The dream has always been
to ride the skin that is your game,
The sad markings thrown away.
In any climate I make a vow:
I will not change my quest for you,
Your lullabies that bring on sleep.
I leave my gift at your doorstep.
I have no more appetite for loss.
This pales before your promises,
The great defeat of unhappiness
That trails along a cool white sheet
With whispers down an avenue.
Between your pear-like breasts
I lay my head
I lay aside my childish scorn
In you I will be torn
Outside of time and flesh,
An exquisite Nothingness.
You are always there
In the glare and in the dream.
From your constant womb of white
The perfect crown of a perfect life
You beckon to watery steps
With an air of indifference,
Or down into the arms of earth
Where we relinquish our flimsy truths
Of the noises that were us
The stances and the spasms spent
You open your legs to this.
It is your fragrance that overcomes
In the dream I have seen
Your lipstick is reminiscent:
I am afraid.
Outside of myself I watch myself
In my drugged state
Tethered to another life,
A weaker life,
You fade, removed page by page.
Over oceans of time,
I am clear
It is another day:
I watch the sun rise.
We sit in opposition
Like cars gearing up for a
Game of chicken.
The wind blusters in your
Eyes, your piano voice comes
In crystals. I feel the years
Between us that have
Fallen off, revealing a hard
Skeleton of love in place.
How we try each
Other for fault! Your vanity,
my hands cut off at
The wrist. I have no
Stomach to pick through
These remains again or retrace
Plot points on the map
To here. I see it as a
Happy accident that
We have survived
Together at all,
Certainly not any of my
Doing. Was it the god
Of inertia who intervened,
limited horizons pressing
Were we not brave enough,
and if so,
Has it not taken us down
Was it something else entirely,
A flame of recognition
That held a mutual gaze
And burned everything else
And if it doesn’t come you wait some more,
It is something like fishing
Except you don’t do it in the sun.
It is not exactly pleasant
And it is not exactly unpleasant either
Why you do it
is difficult to answer.
It has something to do with compulsion
Your having to know that you can,
On that day
come up with something
That will definitely surprise you.
So you court the gods gravely and fervently
Because you know that it is not really
You at all who is going to do the work.
It is rather a chorus of Voices somewhere
Inside your nervous system
that will come to visit you,
Bringing with them words as gifts to you,
Which they offer in muffled tones or
In fits and starts, or in lengthier
Instalments that you take down
At your keyboard you hope in the right
You want to receive the message correctly
not mishear it,
And you have to learn to trust that what they tell you
Is in fact the truth because you have no way of verifying
Of course there will be at some point an overseer who
tinkers and censors
A sort of Father Figure editor
Who must get the package wrapped correctly.
But that is the easy part really because the gift is already
or in part.
Later, you and others will determine whether it was
A cheap gift or an expensive one.
You will provide your signature,
The Voices will be relegated to obscurity.
You know in your heart that you are probably
At best, an interceptor,
And the Voices will not be there to either
Confirm or deny it.
He looks like a sweet little immigrant,
a Pakistani boy wading through dirty water.
He smiles a lot on walls and soothes
with his ingratiating manner.
He is said to be charming to breathless women
he meets at natural food counters and less than charming to his underlings.
Known as a pop culture icon, a go-getter, or almost something.
while inside he is:
all emptiness and fury.
He must have hated his mother a lot.
Did she turn the wrong screw?
We can always trace things back to her.
Blaming the woman is the name of the game we love.
Women as punching bags is always a hoot.
She could not be one hundred percent available, perhaps.
She is, after all, the Remote One, the Castratrix.
And this is never agreeable.
Thus she must be remade, beaten into another shape.
Everyone knows that,
Everyone sees that,
Everyone always has.
Dreams never end well.
They leave with a dread at the centre of them
Or grief or insecurity as the main theme.
In the sunlight
dreams are a source of Inspiration
a wild sea
you in the boat
Heroically sailing toward the horizon
The future white and inviting.
In the landscape of snow
Anything is possible.
The dots lay in many directions.
The human print has not yet been
Destiny ,why have you
Let me down?
me and millions like me
Who wake each day to say’ is this all there is?’
Did we not dream loudly enough?
Or are dreams meant to end in shambles
You being playful again?
You are cruellest to those
To whom you grant their wishes.
In the end
They realize its paltriness,
the opposite of gold.
It is perhaps impossible not to dream
But what to tell the young about you?
Write about it.
Write about what?
Find an” it” and write about it.
This is it.
Then what can we say about it?
That it’s here
I can’t see. It’s too dark.
What can we say about the darkness?
And you don’t know where anything is.
And It’s on my shoulder now.
Yes It’s heavy, isn’t it
It’s gone now.
A little light, then?
Yes but it’s still hard to see.
Maybe you need glasses.
Which it is it now?
There is only one it.
Everything is possible in darkness.
It’s too dark to see.
I had a broken tooth
And we were talking
And you were so bashful of yours.
You always come back to me
When my face is covered.
The tinkle of ice cubes into the tall glass.
I felt my tooth recoil in back
And hide like a mouse.
But it never touched nerve.
Why do you always talk of silly things
In the midst of my chaos?
Time moves subterranean.
Why did you appear last night in a dream
from so long ago?
With no invitation,
you lay as you always did
resigned and useless
in order to unbalance my life.
Obviously, you are alive in me,
a sorry memory
that I still can’t manage to swallow.
The human mind is relentless
at what it wants to get.
When there is a pay-off, don’t worry,
It will be there in one way or another
To turn over the earth for its desired worm.
Your call will be returned.
You’ll be called “sir”
There will be bells and smiles at your command.
The whole world will tickle your fancy
Till the worm is there in the hand.
Then it will be farewell and good luck
And see you soon, maybe,
Until the next worm is wished for.
Self- interest is a funny thing
Because it makes people into things.
It makes us a hinge on the door
To someone else’s gain.
I’d rather be called something else,
Let’s spend some time together.
Let’s have mutual pleasure.
What’s -in it- for- me
is a nowhere strategy
That subtracts from our humanity.
Animals that care for each other.
Your gain is mine
Mine is ours,
A communism of the heart
In a time when the heart has become
To transcend the fear of losing,
Because you have given.
There are just rewards before heaven.
A life of me and mine
Is less than satisfactory.
So find your generosity.
(This is not a plea from
An ad agency.)
I just told someone something
I am sure will kill me.
In the end I will be dead,
But not dead enough to regret
What I said.
Yet what is the good of truth
When you come down to it?
It glares, it smashes your head against
Your most tender parts.
Its reverberations last
Well into the next dilemma.
Making enemies of even the kindest people.
I beg for release…
Being ground down each new day,
Knowing it will end
End badly, probably,l
I am paralyzed and the only thing I can do
And worst of alI
I have no idea
Strange sounds are the last things
When the bird died
She was so long and lithe
Hung from her French door.
And the world sighed,
‘Why? She had everything.’
Everything is not nearly enough,
There is nowhere to go from there
No real air,
Everything marked up with checks
To convince oneself this is a life.
I suppose we convince ourselves,
We must. Otherwise
Hell meets us face first
To declare the worst.
How to survive?
She tried , but she
Is no longer alive.
So many people have gone away
And you’re still here.
So many people have had their say
And you’re still here.
Do you know where they are?
They’re all in the next room
Waiting for you.