The Ants

The ants have got it in for us.
The ants curse us and blame us.
The ants just won't obey.
The ants don't belong.
The ants are puny.
But the ants have big dreams.
The ants want to take us over.

The ants are mindless drones.
The ants run on pheremones.
The ants worship their queen.
But the ants are not hip to the scene.
They follow their leader but she's too clever.
She just sucks the life out of em.
And leaves them to wither.

The ants don't pay no mind.
They might even be blind.
The ants I used to admire.
But now I want to set em on fire.
The ants are trying to take us down.
The ants want to make us look like clowns.
The ants want to start a coup.

The ants go back to antiquity.
The ants are not afraid of us.
It's plain to see. The ants are our enemies.
The ants pay no heed.
They want us to bleed.
They want us to suffer.
And worship no other.

Pilgrims

I wish we were pilgrims again.
I wish the world was new again.
When the sight of rows of corn elicited excitement.
When they built campfires just for the pleasure of it.
When they didn't have to post about it to make it worthwhile
When they didn't have to like anything or hash tag it.
When life was only for the present.
And the simplest things transcendent.

I wish we were pilgrims again.
When they told ghost stories around a campfire
With only their imaginations to give them shape.
No special effects. No car crashes with daring escapes.
I wish the world was new again.
When they wrote letters and then had to wait.
Anticipation is lost today.

Now life is immediate.
Now everything is referenced.
Now we have no direction.
And we have to enshrine
All that is benign.
Now we catalog it for all to see.
From our shits to our appendectomy.

Sorry if I am cynical.
But life is so clinical.
We are detached from our own experience.
We have to like it to give it credence.
It's all so self-referential.
Including my own musings.
An irony not of my choosing.
I don't mean to be heavy-handed.
But that's what the words commanded.

I think I'm from another time.
Where poetry still had to rhyme.
When there was no mountain we couldn't climb.
And we still thought sunsets were sublime.
Where life was simple and pleasures few.
But there's one thing that I know is true.
Though this world is modern, it is far from new.

Destiny is a big eater

Destiny is a big eater.
Destiny consumes and consumes.
Destiny is a big cheater.
Destiny is never going to lose.
Destiny never doubts himself.
Destiny never says I'm sorry.
Destiny says, "Make room!'

Destiny is not all destruction.
Destiny can be construction.
Destiny is a mighty force.
Destiny is the greatest source.
Destiny always gets his way.
Destiny never makes a mistake.
Destiny is here to stay.

Destiny has a heart of granite.
Destiny can destroy the planet.
Destiny is on top of his game.
Destiny has no shame.
Destiny plays for keeps.
Destiny says read em and weep.
Destiny cannot be tamed.

Timing is everything

Timing is everything.
Timing is truth.
Timing can't be learned.
But timing is proof.
The wisdom of the wisest monk
Is nothing but a heap of junk
Compared to the highest truth.
Timing is everything.

What is knowledge really?
The highest truth is the moment only.
The real truth is perfect timing.
It's not something you read in a book.
You either have it or you don't.
Timing is everything.
I guess God gives it to some
But He doesn't give it to all.

Timing is everything.
It's worth more than gold.
Timing is everything.
It comes from the Lord.
Timing is a blessing.
Timing is a sign.
Timing is what I know I lack.
But timing is divine.
If you've got timing, you know you're on track.

My Precious

My precious isn't made of gold.
My precious weights only a few pounds.
My precious doesn't know her own value.
And that is what makes her worth so fine.
My precious is simple and easy.
My precious makes life calm and peaceful.
My precious embodies love.
My precious does not know the meaning of
The words on this page.
But she loves them just the same.
And she makes them precious like she is.

My precious' glory never fades.
My precious continues to amaze.
My precious is a holy thing.
My precious is astounding.
My precious is very demanding.
She insists that she love me
Every minute that I am around.
My precious is a light from heaven.
Although she sometimes makes me cross,
To lose her would be the deepest loss.

Polemnic with a twist of lie

We don't live an age of heroes.
We live in an age of ones and zeroes.
Life is too costly to have ideals.
Earning our wages barely pays for our meals.
The rich get richer, the poor out of the picture.
The middle class just bust their ass.
The mentally ill get sicker.

Despite it all, we need not fall.
If we but heed the call!
Don't trust authority or the government.
The media's conscience is up for rent.
Screw the corporations immune to taxation.
Screw the Congress's backward-ass legislation.

It's time we all raise our voice.
It's time we now make our choice.
Not to trust our leaders, nor support the wealthy.
Decide right here and now our minds and bodies are healthy.
When we realize all society's lies need not hypnotize-
This message brought to you by Pepsi

For Gypsy

For Gypsy

When you lick the pages of my journal,
It is so fucking adorable.
When you perch on top of my easy chair-
And lick my head exposed there-
It's like being kissed by an angel.
You're a rare and fabulous creature.
You're the star of every feature.

I can't describe your loving face.
Or how you fill my life with grace.
You fill my heart with splendor.
Your movements and your presence so tender.
I love your funny ways.
You continue to amaze.
And I thank God for being the Sender.

Gypsy my sweet Gypsy
Your love makes me tipsy.
Even though I haven't imbibed.
I'm so glad you have arrived.
I cherish you every day.
Your magnificence holds sway.
Your warmth makes me glad to be alive.

The Bliss

I take a pull on my Lagunita.
It tastes good and it feels good.
Something washes over me.
Call it bliss.
I drink a few more.
Comfortably numb.

Then later, a new feeling develops.
Emptiness-wishing I had the bliss.
Feeling good turns to feeling shitty.
Because the good is great
But you always want another taste.
And the taste turns bitter.

When you start chasing the bliss,
You never find it.
When it sneaks up on you,
Try not to give it a name
Cause it's not gonna last.

The Book of Love

I've never read the Book of Love.

I'm not sure that it exists.

It's like God or Santa Claus.

No one knows just what it is.

My friend thought he saw it

In Elvis's meaty paws.

But it was just a porno mag

And that made him very cross.

Another friend thought he saw it

Resting on Madonna's tub

But it disappeared from view

The moment she pulled the plug.

I've never read the Book of Love.

It must be quite well-worn.

Soaked, soiled, and dog-eared

And half the pages torn.

Maybe Shakespeare had it last.

Or maybe it was Donne.

Perhaps consumed in the Inferno's blast

Where John Keats retrieved it,

Dusted it off, and held it fast.

It must be quite a marvel.

It must be quite a find.

Beaten up and battered

And with a broken spine.

It must be out there somewhere.

You just have to know where to look.

It's not some cheap dime novel.

It's quite a special book.

The Church of Jazz

Listening to jazz on a Sunday morning. 

A truly religious experience.

The parishioners, Gypsy and Sadie

Sit in their pews, eyes closed in rapture.

We are all connected by this spiritual vibe.

Music hits the souls of all creatures.

Male and female, two-legged and four-legged.

Music is the great unifier.

I'll follow Miles Davis and John Coltrane.

Politicians have no souls,

No matter what their party.

Preach on Brothers Miles and Coltrane!

Your music gives us hope and solace.

God speaks through you.

I don't have to dress up to go to the Church of Jazz

The Church of Jazz doesn't tell me I'm a sinner.

The Church of Jazz doesn't ask for money in the collection plate.

The Church of Jazz just wails on in an exultant tone.

The Church of Jazz gives love and peace.

And asks for nothing in return.

I am pleased to worship at the Church of Jazz.

One and all should heed the call.

Sinners, saints, winners, losers.

The good, the bad, the weak, the strong. 

The Church of Jazz don't judge.

In the Church of Jazz we all belong.