The old man groans as he gets up,
Rising from the chair is a job.
He notices now he is getting older
His head is developing a bob.
Not quite Katharine Hepburn,
Not a nod as much as a bounce.
It’s not a palsy, more of a tic.
It’s not really that pronounced.

And stairs seem to be an enemy
They don’t match the cadence.
Between the risers and his feet
There just too much distance.
Or other times, they are too short
And rise up as an ugly surprise
Not coinciding with what he sees
With his own aging naked eyes.

The man complains about TV
How they are mumbling too much.
They seem to be whispering
Or using foreign words and such.
And when he turns the sound up
The action scenes hurt his ears.
A ***** trick to play on people
Who are a bit advanced in years.

The old man gets disgruntled
When people outside make noise
Like they are some kind of teenagers;
But they’re adults, not girls and boys.
Here it is ten o’clock at night
When decent people are asleep.
What kind of schedule is this
For decent people to have to keep?

What is he to make of the music
These young people like to play?
It has to be some kind of abuse
To use a guitar in that way.
In his day there was melody
And words you could understand.
The noise they make is like a collision
Between a dump truck and a sedan.

The old man grumbles in frustration
That things have not stayed the same.
He would write a letter to the President
If he could figure out who to blame.
But one thing sure, he always insists,
It didn’t use to be this way before.
Now a kind of anarchy seems to exist.

Yesterday came back to me today.
An old lover called to say a hello
And say how much our love
Meant to him so long ago.
It’s especially meaningful to me
That he would call this way
Because I look back to him and see
The beauty we felt in a long ago day.

And that it still meant something
The same as it does for me,
That love and our closeness
Was more than just a memory.
It happened at a time when we
Both needed a boost in our hearts
To let us both see that love could start.

And we both needed that so much
Because we had fallen into doubt.
Being close, touching and loving
Let us bring those feelings out.
They were suddenly out in plain sight
So they could no longer be denied.
We took a chance and fell in love
And set all our fears to one side.

Not, it did not last forever, then
We both later moved on to learn
There is more than one place
That a warming fire can burn.
But apparently it was strong enough,
That feeling we felt back then,
That neither of us were afraid
To begin to love again.

Bullets have no feelings
No use in kneeling
Nobody cares that matters.
They never count
The bones that shatter,
The blood that splatters
The lives they ruin.
They don’t know what they’re doing.
They’re thinking with their wallets.
Lining their overstuffed pockets,
They reward their own efforts
Then get together and do the same
For others with too much fame
And too little conscience;
No pity to share,
They don’t care.
We are not there
To them.

Their anthem
Is gouge, overcharge
Fill up a barge with gold.
This graft never grows old
When you are on the receiving end.
Millions to donate? You are a friend.
No riches to date? You are forgotten,
A loser, a user, misbegotten
And no concern of those
With a spoon in their nose
And riches to spend
On a war that never ends
And makes them more and more.
And secret bank accounts don’t score
With the IRS or with the detectives;
As long as our county is defective
They will continue to win.
Again and again.

If you object to this
You need to at least kiss
The ***** of some politicians
Who won’t see their petitions
Ignored, as always before
When someone denounced
The smallest ounce
Of corruption and payoffs
Paid to overpaid jerkoffs
Who are turning our leadership
Into a high-priced sinking ship
Of fools and criminals
Claiming to be intellectuals
When really they are crooks
Cooking the books.
Again and again.
And we never win.

They had it upside down
The called the sky the ground
And tried to make me believe it.
There was nothing to relieve it.
It was unremitting delusion
And they called it illusion
When as hard as I would try
To agree, it was still a lie
And living a lie can ****
As it too often will.

To whom do you turn to trust
When something inside you is busted,
Something that makes you tick
Keeps you from getting sick
And works better than dope
To help you feel hope
Instead of bleak view
That ends with destruction
Of you.

Sweltering and suffocating
Feeling like I’m smothering
Something is deadly wrong
With this kind of mothering,
Fathering, something awry.
Something that should not be
Turning into something else;
Something that is fatal to me

What do you do when they say
What is wrong is right, up is down,
And nothing is funny, so nobody
Is just kind of joking around.
Instead they are serious
And life is mysterious
But not in a good way;
What can you say?

The kid in the background
The one who doesn’t smile
Who goes mostly unnoticed
And has for quite awhile.
The kid in the background
Who stands there all alone.
Is the child an orphan
The baby nobody owns?

The one who is forgotten
When family gathers.
Is this the only child
With no father or mother?
And what of the brothers
And sisters to this kid.
Why do they ignore him?
Is it something that he did?

The kid in the background
The last one to get picked
In a neighborhood game.
Is it some king of mean trick?
Are his glasses the problem
Or some condition of skin?
What can be the excuse
For the sad state he is in?

The kid plays by himself
It seems he has to pretend
That he is having fun alone
And that he has a friend.
Are these children like birds
That pick on an injured creature?
Where are the parents here,
The adults, the teachers?

The kid in the background
Might be the brightest one
But how will we ever know
If he shines brighter in the sun
Unless we ask the questions
Of what brings this all about
That children on the playground
Want to leave this kid out?

I was born to please the glitteratti
Treat them like they’re gods right here on earth.
Whether a Kardashian or Gotti
They think I’ doomed to serve them since my birth.
I’m meant to feed you, bathe you
Live my life just for you.
I’ve got to primp you, **** you
Wipe your royal ****.
And if I move too slow
You’ll call me ****!

I’m so benighted
And I’ve not denied it.
I was born without a soul
And I know I’m lost now.
My life is blighted
And very much misguided.
Somewhere inside
There is a soul who really
Should know how.

I thought I could gut it out forever
But I found I could only take so much.
Putting up with daily kissing *****
Made me want to retch from every touch.
You are disgusting, thrusting
Your face in everywhere.
Like you are something; you’re nothing,
Got nothing to share!
I no longer care.

I’m not divided
And I just can’t hide it.
I want a life and I intend
To go and get one
A real one.
So get excited.
I have decided
To grow a pair and do
What I know I ought to.
Got to!

The Queen of Qanant
Was a right royal ****;
A ***** of the first water.
And almost as bad
Was the offspring she had,
Her high-class badass daughter.

She looked at folks funny
If they didn’t have money
To her it was all about gifts.
The Queen didn’t share
That her kid pulled her hair
Her stinginess created a rift.

The Queen of Qanant
Had all she could want
Spangles and baubles galore.
She had so much junk
She needed four hunks
To carry it all through the door.

Her land was in a pickle
No downward dollar trickle
With which the poor could pay rent.
She ignored all petitions
To improve the conditions
Thus a civil rebellion could foment.

Her people could starve,
No roast beast to carve;
To her the whole issue was closed.
So her daughter colluded
And the story concluded
When Mommy the Queen was deposed.

So, that’s what’s in store
When you ***** with the poor
And ignore their righteous complaining.
That’s the way things are
You get only so far
To **** on them and tell them it’s raining.

The daughter was no better
She matched mom to the letter
And the whole story started again.
But that’s what people earn
When they never quite learn;
They end up back where they’ve been.