Taint

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Taint no pathway to love, just your perineum, baby
You got holes fore and aft and they both drive me crazy
But sliding into home is not what I live for
Cause it’s a lot more than your hoochie spots that, darling, I adore

I do like how you wiggle and tapping your firm behind
But it takes more than T & A to make a woman so divine
I am a better man whenever you’re with me
And if you’re my ball and chain I wish never to be free

When you are on my arm I stand a little higher
Being kind of man you look up to is something to which I aspire
My mama often warned me about company that I kept
But day that Mama met you it was tears of joy she wept

When it comes to being upright, darling, you’re a ten
You’re my alpha and omega, you are the living end
There have been a lot of times when we have disagreed
We’re not always eye to eye but you’re always the one I need

You’re not always dainty and you’re not always kind
And when I got it coming you’ll put a boot in my behind
But you’re the best damn woman that ever walked the Earth
And a hundred-million songs to you could not enumerate your worth

I know often I focus way too much on biology
Know it’s all of you I’m proud of, from your head down to your feet
You are my darling angel who sometimes prods with a pitchfork
But even as you’re bashing me I love you even more

Many is the man who’s always searching for new and hot
But when I’m lying with my baby I know the wealth I’ve got
My darling’s far from perfect but she’s the perfect gal for me
And forever wrapped up in her loving arms is where I long to be

Tyrannical Ocean

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Swept out in the ocean, billion tiny grains of sand
Sand’s moved by water’s currents the way we all am
Our travel path’s determined by conglomerate
It seems passive drifting has become our common lot

Fierce ocean big and mighty, it dictates our path
If we fight ocean’s current we’re bound to feel its wrath
Tidal wave tsunami following seismic events
Churns up my fellow sand grains as from the shore we’re rent

Landmarks strong and weighty, like great rock Gibraltar
Water wears away, leaves us unanchored and unsure
Ocean teams with drifting people who are full of need
Will any offer lifeline or will all ignore sand’s pleas?

Many bodies in the ocean that have sunk and drowned
Do leaders cry tears sincere or wear deceitful frowns?
Are we thankful dead sand grains are them and not us?
Is there no one to lend a hand-up? Leaders sand can trust?

We sand grains we are many but what’s a grain to do?
Ocean’s great and mammoth and with strength sand’s not imbued
Cast upon the water sand grains have not the power to swim
Against a raging ocean how can a sand grain hope to win?

Ocean has the power and it dictates to sand
It’s been this way forever, say annals of Man
We sand grains long to change the world, turn it on its head
But relentless ocean would sooner see us dead

The tide she is not turning in favor of the sand
Great battle’s never ending; ocean laughs at sand’s demands
Demand for humane justice as sand fights to be free?
Ocean’s but a tyrant longing to squelch liberty

Both ocean and sand grains are children of Mother Earth
Tyranny that rages is product of same birth
Ocean that overwhelms sand and fights to keep it down
From a common womb where fraternity’s seldom found

Prison of Despair

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The jailhouse it tumbled down, down into the sea
Inmates we were cheering our new-found liberty
No tiny cells now held us, we were free to go
I just stood there waiting not knowing what to do

All our lives imprisoned by bars we cannot see
How do we choose direction? Live a life that’s free?
What chains restrict me from ascending to new heights?
Why sit here listlessly rather than just take flight?

What is it that I yearn for? What essentials lack?
Here I lie in tortoise shell flailing on my back
Like rats we fight and scurry, long to get ahead
Freedom is a grave concern, must we wait till we’re dead?

Old days of regimentation against which we chafed
Gave me structure and purpose, this realize now too late
Leaving life inside a prison that we all do share
Has left me feeling useless and striped my old bones bare

Too late, too late the caged bird understands his song
For freedom tastes not sweet if you’ve been brought up wrong
Fear I shall fade quietly into the cold dark night
For there’s no life inside of me, and no spark of light

Reaching for the promise of great Beulah Land
My freedom’s brought me madness that I can’t understand
I’ve broken free of shackles that so many wear
Freedom without purpose is my prison of despair

Downwardly Careen

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Coleridge made a pleasure dome where Kubla Khan could play
A dome composed of opium smoke that drifted away
Hemisphere with maze of river within ten miles stretched
Twas most dazzling vision that sobriety soon wrecked

Last night I had a vision not so elaborate
But the dream it pleased me as in my bed I slept
I threw a simple lasso up into the sky
And on this rope of hemp I found that I could fly

Even whilst sleeping I pondered heavenly ride
How could an unattached rope suspend me in the sky?
The rope it had a rhythm as it pulled me out of time
For up and down the rope pulsed as to great heights I climbed

My flight it was not jarring as I held on with one arm
Soared in ever widening circle free from fear or alarm
Wound up above an ocean and while I was gazing down
Little boy upon a raging sea looked like he might drown

With no hint of hesitation lowered for a rescue
As though me saving drowning children was a common thing to do
Dropped down and spiraled slowly; grabbed the little tyke
And in a New York minute on firm ground he did alight

I returned unto the heavens, waved as I did ascend
His family embraced him, shouting, “Hallelujah!” and “Amen!”
It was a wondrous feeling to do a thing so right
Basked in their benedictions as I continued on my flight

Still, the niggling thought that simply would not let me be
Was how could a simple rope let me sail far above the sea?
And as I circled upward feeling light and feeling free
Couldn’t help but puzzle over force of gravity

My mind began to worry as I rose high up in the sky
If my dream flight up and ended I would surely fall and die
And with my hesitation I began to tumble down
Not knowing if I’d hit sharp rocks or in the sea I’d drown

The hemp rope that supported me in my lovely flight
Evaporated into nothing, left me weeping in the night
The strong, bold rescuer that was me in my dream
Had been replaced by haggard man who downwardly careens

And now it is the morning and nothing’s really changed
I keep struggling to rise upward and my strength regain
But all I’ve left are dreams and memories of the past
Though the world needs saving I’m caught in my own morass

Brighter Than The Sun

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Even as a lad he was bound and determined
To see his name in lights brighter than the sun
Candle captivated, like a moth to a flame
His longing was to create, not just bask in fame

Many were the hands that tried to hold him down
Who told him, “Conform!” called him fatuous clown
But though the comments stung like nettles in his soul
Would not be subdued by bunch of hate filled trolls

He labored, he sweated, he doubted his self-worth
But the muse inside refused to succumb to stillbirth
Fortune told him, “Bide your time as you nurture your dream.
Be patient and brave and hard work you’ll redeem.”

As the years piled up he began to despair
His dream it still burned brightly, felt he was going nowhere
Found a soulmate who greatly reduced his burden
But still he longed for life by proscenium curtain

He wasn’t just a dreamer, had a master plan
Sent out work and resumes said, “Look at who I am!”
He got a little nibble out in California
And quicker than a punch line he flew out that way

What he had to offer was what they were looking for
And with his signed contract, had his foot in the door
His name ain’t Cedric but he’s an entertainer
Living in La-La Land’s like finding perfect pearl

All is not a bed of roses in land of Rose Bowl
Lot of competition, along with sweat and toil
But he’s on the left coast where every day’s a dream
Life may still lack tranquility but he’s found his place supreme

Even as a lad he was bound and determined
To see his name in lights brighter than the sun
Candle captivated, like a moth to a flame
His longing was to create, not just bask in fame

His-Story

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When John Hinckley shot the Pope and James Earl Ray Rosey Greer,
Oswald Harvey Lee was praying as penitent sincere.
Sirhan Sirhan he came over from the Promised Land
and with Chicago Ruby punctuated their demands.
Mehmet Ali Ağca conspired with Ron Regan and JFK
to get Johnny Lennon to watch Bobby Fisher play.
Immutable are facts that I have laid out here;
I’ve done extensive research and my findings are revered.

Perspective is important when researching history
but revision of the facts is a plague on you and me.
Cristoforo Colombo sailed in fourteen-ninety-two
stumbled upon a continent when he sailed the ocean blue.
That part of the story is just restating of the facts
but whether Columbus was demon or a savior just depends on whom one asks.

When I was a child old C.C. was revered
but indigenous indignants say that logic’s mighty queer.
In his quest for gold, God, glory Admiral Chris he was not nice
he brought tyranny and ruin to a former paradise.

We all know there is a reason why it’s called his-story
and it just depends on whose ox gets gored if with story you agree.
But seems we’ve started sliding down a very slippery slope
where if one disagrees with basic facts then one just hollers, “Nope!”
Though dozen eyes did witness and nine cameras filmed the scene
trend right now’s for a new narrative woven from a dream.

We don’t have to search for people blowing drifts of snow
they have positions mighty high though their character’s really low.
Blue sky that they’re selling is getting choked with smoke
they tell us things are fabulous, terrific? Is this guy smoking dope?
I guess screaming, “Fake news!” and offering alt-facts
worked in trumped up towers where standards were quite lax.
I know life can be confusing, more complicated than anybody knew,
but no matter how you slice it can’t pull facts out of the blue.

John Wilkes Booth was an actor who died in sixty-five,
he shot another dude who pontificated about lies:
“You can fool all people some of the time,
and some of the people will always fall for your lines,
but manure that you’re spreading each and every day?
Is the greatest reason why I wish you’d go away.”

Sicker Every Day

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Once upon a time there was more to me
than a fatuous old man adrift on an endless sea.
I had purpose, I had life, I had dreams and I had plans
and though all that’s escaped me now
I still don’t know why or how.
How did I lose my bearings, my desire, my way?
I’d love to cure my illness but just keep getting sicker every day.

I rise up in the morning but I really don’t know why;
see the stars up in the heavens and release a little sigh.
I’ve no idea where I’m going as my soul just slowly dies,
I’m always on the verge of weeping but, of course, big boys don’t cry.

The world is filled with wonders but nothing truly interests me
and even walking on flat ground feels like climbing steepest mountain scree.
I take a small step forward but then I slide on back
my emotions are so ragged; like I’m under constant attack.

I’ve consulted doctors looking for a cure
I got one who’s gonna cut me but to torment I’ve grown inured.
Seems like every single moment I’m in some kind of pain;
agony needs no prompting from frigid weather or from rain.

Rising out of bed can be a monumental task
only thing that’s worse is slow wasting from sitting on my ass.
It’s such a grating torment working hard to slow decline,
knowing if I don’t make an effort I’ll just fall further behind.
Further behind the eight-ball that’s gonna pocket me
feel like I’m heading for demise, toward a hole that all can see.

We all ride into the sunset, it is our common end,
I just was not prepared for pain of my torturous descent.
Every day I seem to burrow down a little more
once my body’s six feet underground there’ll be no me left to restore.

Once upon a time there was more to me
than a fatuous old man adrift on an endless sea.
I had purpose, I had life, I had dreams and I had plans
and though all that’s escaped me now
I still don’t know why or how.
How did I lose my bearings, my desire, my way?
I’d love to cure my illness but just keep getting sicker every day.

Gleaned

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Waning moon in an autumn sky
illuminates life’s wealth;
Harvest of labors drawing nigh
great treasures to be shelved.

Vernal pleasures of yesterday
to mud entrust sweet dreams;
Optimism Man’s great outlay
with hope world is redeemed.

Plant tiny seeds then watch them grow
furnish them with their needs.
What future brings, nobody knows
upward we cast our pleas.

Tender and fragile are green sprouts
to which we’ve given birth;
In heavy torrent and in drought
our hopes tied to the earth.

Rank weeds that look to suffocate
and destroy nascent life
Must be excised with greatest haste
‘fore they become too rife.

Sizzle beneath the summer sun
without whom naught would live;
‘Tis growing season, Sol’s great run,
vigil with light votive.

Still, hope and fear endeavor on
worries do not sway fate;
Summer’s fading, harvest’s begun,
dreams we now cultivate.

Tempestuousness left behind
victory is at hand.
Round great calamities did wind
behold, fruit of our land!

Though demanding is the labor
of harvesting the earth,
Willingly attack each acre
engulfed in song and mirth.

Seeds nourished with optimism
tended with loving care
Have produced crops ripe and wholesome,
rich gift without compare.

A small respite now from labor
as fields have all been gleaned;
Bounty for both kin and neighbor
at feast we all convene.

Multitude of laborer’s hands
that hungry mouths do feed;
United we can make a stand
to create what we need.

This is only world we’re given
we must decide our fate.
Shall we build for green tomorrow
or accept rule of hate?

The harvest moon is setting low
and soon winter arrives,
Will hatred be the crop we sow
or will we let love thrive?

In The Cesspool

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I am the arbiter of everything true
Know what’s kosher for Muslims, halal for Jews
Any questions you have just bring ’em to me
I’ll put your worries to rest, set your soul free

So many folks out there don’t know their place
Don’t know hierarchy of religion, sex, race
Way too many people claiming their holy texts
Are alpha, omega upon which all should rest

But I’m here to tell you, I must make it clear
I’ll show you righteous path that’s good and dear
It’s not what you’re thinking, ain’t quoting the Lord
John three sixteen’s fine but don’t go overboard

Truth that I deal in’s more pragmatic kind
I drip pearls of wisdom from my alt-right behind
I know what is good and I know what beguiles
Refugee riff-raff has got good folks riled

First step in the process of making things right
Is acquiescing to truth of our tribal might
There’s rigid templates to which all must adhere
Let’s cut through the bull and make everything clear

First step is anger at those unlike ourselves
Know their kind’s unworthy while our kind’s top shelf
Way that we do things way it’s always been done
If they don’t look like us then they’d better run

After the anger, the next step is hate
It’s our folks that made this nation top rate
Should have secured our border, never let their kind in
For all that they breed is discord and sin

They flocked here groveling, begging for crusts
We showed them charity and their words did trust
But now the flotsam that floated in dank cesspools
Think they’ve got the right to be changing the rules

They’re stealing jobs from the youth of this land
The stain of other is a wide, ugly band
Converting our homeland to be like where they come from
They’re not only ungrateful they’re full of treason

Today’s the day to again make our homeland great
For rebirth of our nation must focus our hate
It’s those on the bottom clawing their way up
That are dragging us down into the muck

We’ll follow the leaders who’ll show us the path
If the others leave quietly they’ll be no blood bath
But this land is ours and we’re taking it back
In cause of racial purity can’t cut ’em no slack

We’ll set the clock back and everything’ll be fine
Racially pure patriarchy is rule divine
We’ll get rid of infection that’s killing our land
And go back to living life of Ku Klux Klan

And if you hear talk of the treacherous kind
About equal rights and the march of time
Know that it’s evil they’re trying to breed
And deny the mud races their deceitful creed

I am the arbiter of everything true
Know what’s kosher for Muslims, halal for Jews
Any questions you have just bring ’em to me
I’ll put your worries to rest, set your soul free

Mother’s Day Run

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I started out my morning with a Mother’s Day run
Wife convinced our son and me we’d have a lot of fun
The weather it was chilling for May in F-L-A
Got up with the sun and headed to local five-K

Were four in our party ’cause our son he brought a friend
Workmate name of Tyler who last year brought up the end
Boy and buddy Tyler they been training for the race
Clear from the beginning they’d maintain a nice quick pace

It was a competition and the boy and wife are fast
Among our little group knew who’d be coming in last
We queued up at the start and I began towards the rear
Obvious pace they’d be setting I’d not be coming near

Old war horse like me figured on ten minute miles
But the two youngsters weren’t settlin’ for a pace so mild
Darling little wifey goes by moniker goddess
She’s always bound and determined to push her limits

Was a special class for moms who raced with their offspring
Team of mom and child with lowest time would victory bring
Our boy did really well and his mom was kicking ass
And when their times were added they came in first not last

Tyler broke eight-minute mile pace for special-k
A much improved time that tasted of victory
I beat ten minute miles with nine, three, three pace
No doubt that I am old and slow but enjoyed the race

We all got to keep on moving and take care of self
Don’t matter if you’re slow like me or if you’re top shelf
There is a special feeling that comes with victory
But all I’m promoting is being all that we can be

When we gather up our courage, rise up off the couch
And share a little self-care, no longer sit and slouch
We must rally for ourselves and for the ones we love
And with what we’ve got fortune’s slings and arrows rise above