It was an awful time
In a regime of crime;
Of robber barons who
Increased the taxes to
Barricade their homes
And set thieves to roam
So they could all carve
The poor and let them starve.

The poor, so sick and dull,
Felt they were being pulled
Between half-truths and lies
That were all disguised
As the loving benefactions
And the word of some god
From ancient lost times
Imported from The Land Of Odd.

It was a scary times of idols
With feet of pond slime who
Confused the people and
Took their civil rights too
And stole their pensions
And their insurance away;
Would not protect them
No matter what folks would say.

The poor, so sick and dull,
Felt they were being pulled
Between half-truths and lies
That were all disguised
As the loving benefactions
And the word of some god
From ancient lost times
Imported from The Land Of Odd.

It was a horrible time here
When leaders didn’t lead
Or see to what those who
Had elected them might need.
The stupid poor watched as
The nation slowly eroded away.
What a sad tale of a sad land.
The land is us and it was just yesterday.

It was an awful time
In a regime of crime;
Of robber barons who
Increased the taxes to
Barricade their homes
And set thieves to roam
So they could all carve
The poor and let them starve.

I sang of you to passersby
To tell them of your grace.
I wished them all the luck
To gaze upon your face.
I hoped they all would be
The luckiest of friends
To feel the peace descend;
Be the joy that never ends.

I sang of all my memories
Of now and days gone by
Where you were a gift to me
And I was just humble I.
I sang a melody of happiness
And life that came complete.
So I was dedicated to lay
The world there at your feet.

I sang though some did think
I was but a simpleton’s fool
Who suffered some diseases
That kept me long from school.
They clucked and bade me quiet
When I most wanted to sing.
They could not feel what I felt.
They felt not a loving thing.

I sang through scowls and scoffs
And heartless catcalls of the many.
I suffered names like half-witted,
Brainless ****, twit and *****.
But did I care what many had said
Who ridiculed my loving song?
Not I, instead I ignored them all
And sang louder as I went along.

Scoundrels and rascals
All decked out in pastels
And Brooks Brothers suits
With cufflinks to boot
And five hundred dollars ties
Thinking that makes them wise;
Just one of the rich guys
And nobody to question them,
Never harrumph or an ahem
Because they are above it all,
No boring trips to the mall
They depend on their buyers
And other expensive liars
To tell them how cheap it is
To engage in this dressing biz,
For them to buy for the guy
And never ask why so high.

After all, it’s Armani, not Guess
So why should they confess
That they are smarter than him
The guy they work for is so dim
He pays whatever they say.
After all, he can afford to pay.
Even the water his maid gets
Is so high quality, one forgets
It is only hydrogen and oxygen
Not something created by men;
Probably bottled from the tap.
He never knows he is a sap
That falls for the television ads.
He will die completely glad.

It is so ****-hardening for him
To sup in restaurants so dim
He hardly notices how small
The costly portions are at all.
He lets them uncork the wine
And brays about how fine
The taste and the vintage,
Not caring the damage
It does to his Diner’s card.
This kind of life is not hard.
Plus he gets to go tomorrow
And wreak more sorrow on
Constituents and other peons
And wreak his own opinion
Even though he is but a minion
Doing exactly what he is told.
As long as he rakes in the gold.

Later, a bit under the influence
He'll revel in the confluence
Of a lack of conscience, and
Socially accepted concupiscence
At an appropriate gathering
Where there is a smattering
Of propriety and morality
That allows rented geniality
And permits him to rise up
And drink too many cups
While he beats his chest
Just like all of the rest
And call for the dancers
To come and surrender
To their oh-so rightful rapine
That won’t make the magazines.

The time is here,
To overcome fear and apathy
That come from a lack of empathy;
When the regular folks don’t need
And those fueled by greed rule,
When our leaders are fools
Who only care about the rich
And those who pay them.

This always is the birth
Of the **** of earth and us
With little fuss by the middle
And even while they fiddle,
Their Rome burns, they don’t learn.
They watch the world turn
And blame it on each other;
Brother hates brother,
Refuse to get together
And end their enmity
To defeat the real enemy.

It’s rule breaking
It’s not just heartbreaking
To see masses raise arms
In dictator salutes to men;
Recreating saviors again
Who fail to rescue or save
The rights of all from a grave
Far too early dug for us.
With little fuss.

The time is here,
But too few choose to hear,
Their toys and games too dear
And their heroes too shallow
While those between rich
And being poor wallow and squeal
While corporations deal and sell
And waves of indignities swell
And too few of us care
As if Armageddon was never there
And patiently waiting.

I know I am a bad kid,
Things I did were awful
So I deserve every slap,
Every punch, every insult
Like “little *******” and
Sonofabitch. Everything.
Call me what I am as I
Have been appallingly bad
As a child, as an offspring,
An embarrassment to you.

Show me that ugly face
Of disappointment and hate
Because I was never a great
Reflection of your love,
Of your concern, your care.
After all, you feed me
You give me clothes and bed
And let me go to school.
I am a worthless fool.

I don’t deserve more,
And now, every smile hurts;
Not just desserts for crimes
Ones I committed all the time
Every day I now understand
Why your hand hit my jaw,
Slapped my face so often
I’m a disgrace, a shame
I don’t deserve your name
Or for you to look at me.

After all, look at me.
I’m horribly fat, look!
Those disgusting bulges
in my lower backside.
I disgust myself, completely
I look at myself and heave.
I wish I could leave and go,
Find someplace else
Where I can’t see myself.
So nobody else has to.

I can’t take back the wet beds
The expense you always said
Was too much, the touch
I craved back when I was young
The breath in even my lungs
Offending because I am bad.
I am a sad example of kids
And should be hid somewhere
So you never have to spare
Another moment on a bad kid.

I’m open to the idea
Of spirituality, but not
A proponent of spirits
Walking out of graves.
Yet some people leave
Without dying, gone
But not forgotten nor
Are they anywhere near
Just listening, talking
Inside of my head.
Spirits in a way, body-less
Haunted by what they said.

There are many of them,
These ghosts of yesterday
Who captivated my life
Encapsulated it, and me;
Tweaking me around so
That there was little else
That was happening then.
Some were women, some men.
I’d forget for a moment
Then they’d come again
Making me look at them
And at nobody else around.

That's it, it was all that easy;
A glance, some chat and then
I was hooked on this person,
This lovely woman or hot man
From my teen years to maturity.
I fell for each memory and now
They come back again to speak,
Full of the same silent promise,
Aging not a bit, as if they hoped
To find just such a twit as I
To tantalize and tease, not please;
Those days are gone. moved on.

But the place in my heart for
This Marley’s ghost of emotion
Wide as an ocean still exists
Without the urgency, the heat
But there is still the heartbeat
And the gratitude that they
Took the time to share, to care
And I don’t dare forget or ignore.
I urge them back each time for more
As if i am keeping score in a book.
Maybe it is because I still lust
For one last loving look.

I’m sliding down the ladder of life
Doing the Jacob thing in reverse.
Most of the people I meet now
Are either medical doctors or a nurse.
I’m in that phase where my hearing
Is about as good as my vision.
I don’t walk all that well at all
Due to my aging condition.

That’s the way things sometimes go
You might be clueless or you might know.
There may be signs so you can guess
Or you may find yourself a total mess.

Looking back over who I have been,
Like most of the young, I didn’t forsee
Or take much to heart the chances
That things like this would happen to me.
I thought myself invulnerable and
Incapable of ever growing old
Callously heeding no elders’s words
I simply refused to be told.

I thought the warnings I heard
Were from some clueless wags
And burned candles at both ends
Until the wick began to sag.

Now the creamy sooth skin,
Or what version I once ever had,
Begins to betray with brown spots,
And I admit it once made me mad.
But I have managed to accept
Many of the shortcomings of tomorrow.
It’s the loss of mobility I dislike;
That delivers me so much sorrow.