downtown acid

here i go
         i can't make out what 
the rumour is that goes right
as leftwich steps on the gas
and we go up and the clouds
are wind in our ears whispering
nonsense and bits of satisfying 
sing-alongs on bridges falling
and falling into a brooklyn
where tim leary is yet awaited
and everyone is an undercover
the kind who blows its cover  
with a barrage of foul language
over some wise kid moving a street 
barrier for no conceivable reason
   you could know the truth just once
   out of the hat or the chiaroscuro
hear here panthers lay on carpeting
plush plus we are getting shafted
they say _it's okey let's skedaddle
before it all comes crumbling down
   we could break through once more
we got tickets for the warhol show
it's rock and roll and even the cat's
cool now and the breeze it's sudden
on our face and the ride and the view

living off a bible black night

living off a bible black night
in the bough darkness of six 
feet under among the primal 
shards mattering no longer 
the bone nor the ashes on call 
ready and silent deaft to 
the plate sliding rumbling 
the first cry long awaiting
just mercy lastly chewing 
gum toboggan runs _so much 
more for knowing it all wrong 
a victim of circunstance

waddle

being choiceless _it becomes a scream_
ego never has to thread the needle's eye
it gets pulled out from the bull pen
all the way to heaven _read crystal beach
with little fishes and apples
floating blues up in the muddy waters
humming with a couple o'fat girls
blown with beer and weed wading in the ready
sand quick to sink that crater lake
where you got down to wash the sun the moon
and assorted bodies only
to meet with restless sleep dawn and the front porch
marveled at the ash clouded sky
while car after car backed from endless driveways
parading for the barking dogs
in the gutter where you too rolled and rocked
in abandon serving any god handily
simply to end up in front park at the edge
staring at the rolling water
wanting it as you saw your eyes look back
and it hit you like kryptonite
thus you crashed back to the bench where you
were before linda whatchamacallit
sprung you from except your feet are now wet
likewise all your capital
and the eye in the triad's intent on you

bitches and the viridian boy

   bitches and the viridian boy

no i never met a boy greenhorn and single who

could pose sweet even if seedy to fuck bitches

and cue bays like that billiards lad who hitches

toys to his groin with fumbling hands and clumsily

comes of age at every try but goes away empty-

handed to the backroom among the tables idle  

the boy has dirty green eyes and gay manners

bitches have them multicolored set dire and ready

to cut to the quick and brand his edge on fire so

he places his bid on his eyes mindful of his stare

baiting with glances and ogles pocketfuls of lies

be sure bitches are hopeless and mind not this ill

viridboy gets the fever and shakes on the last ball

with no one to keep score and no mares on call

  

song

   song

i was conceived like my mother’s womb

sultry as the sweat rubbing warmest

on a summer night long through the fresh

dawn bursting on the senses never

knowing the allotted time at the peak

but having the savor of my rider rise

like smoke blowin’ out of my mind

ooh i kept telling you lies viciously

about a night longest yet

where love’d ride all the encores

we were to run it through

we weren’t fed up no

that’s one notion we got quite well

once we did we sanctioned the trade

with our very own flesh show

we’ve heard it all and now we’ve done

it all once we’ve become it got hard

to quit the way it was envisioned

in our heads for then we knew we’ve been

put to do a chore with the promise

of a summer love and there was no more

to be done least we collapsed our hearts

like the cigarettes in the tray

ooh and you kept saying forever

(choir)

we’ve heard it all

we understand quite well

love’s requital’s in the heat

of a night at summer peak

light another cigarette

found at the bottom of my drawers (bearing out for Guayaquile)

this pronunciamento is simply to assert a sum

of truths self evident transparent that show our nature

now minus the two hundred year wraps woven to disguise

our history and ourselves with constants which wreathe us

direct in line with troy and the western classics positively

we have formed in earnest sublime ideas for auld lang syne

and declared ourselves victims of mother spain from the find

and conquest until eighteenten when cut from the mater land

we became selfindulgent with ideals reaching  far beyond

our white mountain peaks to a rubble heap left by greeks

in anatolia and there we place ourselves in illion our beloved

beginnings and abeyance for we have not glorious tales

it’s all haze to tell well we fixed that and if someone tells

the truth about our lore he’s branded traitor on the spot

while heroes are who contribute to the lie it’s old history

and it could be from anywhere thirst for royal dirt is sound

no matter if civil war or independence call call it anything

repeat an axiom or makeshift a brand call it a revolution

and start spinning heads with blabber twisting dope

let’s get this right most of the population was not represented

blacks indians mestizos and most whites did not care a bit

the whip changed hands to the descendants and heirs to priam

along with the seized privileges which now had a republican

aura full with blazon colors and song they declared themselves

fathers of the land and presented the many with a clear view

of a chief tall with a bogus name lance in hand and his main

wife bogus two genuflected at his side with heir apparent

in arms proud ancestors of a lost paradise to atone and further

confuse the fuckin natives cause that story wasn’t in their folk

‘tis so

responsible victim

in the beginning there was light dazzling in the biggest bang

flash darkness loose sub par emotional to blind your every

choice and trip you as you kiss that you should crawl the lot

in bliss with lust that knows not more than the pain it gives

and takes the hell bittersweet and vain honey knows so well

(everyone had a third uncle or maid incestuous some sort

of baron saturday who would milk your coupling exploits

to his gain because your will could be coaxed sans effort)

presently she knows it unconsciously maybe (yes nothing

is forever) thus dazzled she pleads remission but it’s a life

sentence with such knowledge one that stupefies the trunk

and branches conditioned it is flesh and mind so she shouts

her story crude as it is reliving the unrepresentable

experience obliterating all belief with its awareness

of sacrifice and surrender and it tells the same wound

daily in a jaunt of suffering and satisfaction

she walks the boulevard in the narrow

naked at the red light flashing her eyes

marquee one more barren blue night as she

rounds her heart on the shadow of her lips

to demise in smoke the blossoming eve

and mirrors hint of shades purple and green