Sign dictates on bike path, " 7 miles an hour"
I say, " Oh ****, now I can't go 25 miles an hour,
perhaps 20 or even 15, and I hope there is no "Bike Cop"
hiding behind some rock, bush or tree with a little "bike siren".

Sign dictates in an "open air train station", " No Smoking"
I say, " Oh ****, I hope he or she doesn't come up to me
directly and blow smoke in my face, I would really be *******."
I also hope that these mounds upon mounds of butts don't
stop me from walking even though "biodegradable"

Bus driver dictates, in front of bus, "Read the sign before leaving, please do not step past yellow line"!!
I cringe at the thought that my big toe goes over that ****
yellow line. If so, do you think that the driver will abruptly
stop the bus and throw the tip of your toes out the bus?
If so, I guess that the rest of your body would have to go as well!!!

Oh well, we live in a society, of some unnecessary mazes, and it gets worse and worse!! For that I give the "BIG *******!!!!!!" (PS just messin' wit ja )

Give me your mind and talk to me
let us talk my talk
let us walk my walk

Beware because I am
not a gold miner or even a coal miner
but a mind miner, extracting your self-product
lying deep within your deep and dark hidden caverns
I will dig out your most hidden psyche
I will dig out your most deep inner world by my grinding words
Your inner product will be on a talking conveyer belt,
washed polished and dried to perfection
I will then reinvent your freshly dug up social product
and inspect for flaws
If all passes my inspection, that reflects myself,
the stamp will declare, approved by the Good Mind Keepers of "Herd Mentality".

Bang those pots and pans
and blow those whistles too
Comes a better year
and love will come to you
Hug, laugh and dance
and leave 16 in the past
Say hello to 17
and give it all a blast
Jump up and down
like good old kangaroos do
Watch that confetti
land on top of you
Kiss all your
loved ones
and giggle in their face
make that yearly *******
never a disgrace
HAVE A HAPPY NEW YEAR GANG...

Watching night step-sitters staring at each passerby
abiding time as if counting sheep stepping with the city's cadence
Hearing sirens alarming in their BEWARE BLARING;
persistent fearfulness for evil and citizens securities
Staring-walking-bodies searching a barren land prostrating
before the great needle
Patched streets and decaying sidewalks by flooding night lights lay surreal

DECAYING fingers of poverty playing its fingers into every crack, crevice; into every pore, into every cell member
into one's whole being
Sounding the hip-hop generation street corners of hustlers
jiving away the night
The hustled and hustlers' overwhelming struggling for power; being surrounded by red brick and stone; being  incased in poverty

Pounding city hysteria;
at times laying silent in sleepless depth
by the waning gradualness;
anytime readying itself to ERUPT

Smashing boots on doors,
splinters fall like rain.
Smashing boots on doors,
children feel the pain.
Smashing boots on doors,
granny's years of age.
Smashing boots on doors,
Mom and Dad in rage.
Smashing boots on doors,
panic sets the stage.
Smashing boots on doors,
Iraqi freedom fades.
Smashing boots on doors,
like thunder in a storm.
Smashing boots on doors,
an innocent family torn.
Smashing boots on doors,
a brand new hatred born.

RW Dennen  (c)  11/24/09