Around the eighties the Mumers New Year Parade in Philly
lost a bit of its tradition. It originally was made for
the average working family. But around this period
people were charged to watch them do their famous strut
and extra displays of course only at City Hall.
And so let us begin my poetic story...


Standin' among the crowd,
watchin' blue police-van-bleeders
being escorted; wearin' city-steel-wrist-braclets

And now struttin' my way,
psychopathic eclipsers
of physical freedom
seekin' potential comatose heads
to tap

And squads of finger thrusters
of back pockets for targets,
dart in and out of crowds,
quickly countin' their *****
in dark unseen places

Feet freeze
as sounds travel,
" Oh dem golden slippers"
soundin' like cheap tin toy Kazoos
and toy glockenspiels

The wind kisses
my **** end blue
as a flyin' Budweiser
kisses my right foot wet

Man made pop art
reflects the times
at the times
at Broad and Spruce
of cigarette butts,
chocolate wrappers,
and crushed beer cans
climaxin' montage
of the mountain- ****** eighties

Boozers and blue
sweet puffers
wearin' smiles
outside
and within most inner thoughts
puff-buffed away from some reality
step in cadence to their
own music within themselves

And wailin' children
havin'
more sense
than adults
become early sacrifices
to the fruit of Bacchus

The marching high strutters of "Big Bird",
they strain and struggle under the weight
of heavy hernia suits;
with feathers and sparklers,
their instruments wrestle as steamy air puffs shoot forward
from their nostrils
like  red-devil-painted-dragon faces
in the bitter cold air
warmly protected by their attire and *****,
they stop seemingly for eternity,
in the suspended purgatorial
halts
one after another,
only waitin'
for the grandstand reserved section
around City Hall
Yet we wait and pray together
that perhaps like in the older days
we will get a sneak of
a nostalgic, spontaneous,
free dance-strut
that never comes

Attached, yet unattached
and cryin' inside;
always on guard
for flyin' and drunkin' fists
or flyin' articles
of all sizes
Seein'  through
the facades of we must act
like ha! ha! ha!
I cry inwardly
with anger
doin' the rat-tat-tat
of no more nonsense
of my inner-self
Strivin' and movin' to flee Freddie Kruger's bladed fingers
I sting all over,
my teeth clinch with anger,
darkness intensified
The crowd becomes uglier,
blackness
engulfs
black souls
Vehement, crazy,
hordes and hordes of frustration bellows
outward
The call of Nietzche,
The ouch under my skin

This damnable real parade
not shown in Liberace-livin'-Color

No commercial breaks of luxury cars
that drive livin' manikins
Livin' manikins that wear dial under their arms
while smilin' the brand of Crest toothpaste
but instead,
a street drunk with
broken ugly teeth
as he begs for quarters
and blows his odorous breath
beyond description

And City Hall payin'-grandstanders
with tv cameras
bein' in the spirit of "Disneyland"
presents
the overly organized narcissistic prostituted
elegance of forever, floatin', bouncy,
dancy, prancy,
skippin' to the tune
of  mom's Apple pie,
a small slice of my reality

And the applaudin' money makin'
TV grandstanders
of goody goody
look mom I can do the swan dance
while holdin' multiple
colored sparklers
wrapped in feathers
But why must I
see through the eyes of a Godless Nietzsche,
**** it!!

A day
that cries at burials,
plays havoc on sinuses
and sales
vendors...

...rainy days
remind me
of tears
rolling down
the eye-windows
of my abode...

...and cling onto
flowery buds
and leaves
looking like
tiny delicate
crystal *****
soon fortelling
their own quick
evaporating end
of ephemeral
microscopic
life form
worlds
held inside
each droplet...

...how well
DeVaSTaTiNg
each innocent
each drop becomes
Once POOLED TOGETHER, CAN EVEN MOVE MOUNTAINS, FLOOD WHOLE TOWNS, AND CLAIM VICTIMS BY THE SCORE...

...I see crowds
being gently pelted
by these heavenly
tears;
reminding me
of a GIANT baptism
that nurtures
bodies and minds
as well as
flowers and trees...

... I became interested
with the truth,
that the FORCE
of droplets
being OVERWHELMING
and AWESOME...

This is somewhat of a surreal writing and so is the title
well here goes...

Foolin' around with chaos
Kickin' at the cosmos
Not quite known' where
my left foot and right foot
really belong

Wondren' if the stains
in my undershorts
are the results
of nicotine  

Imaginin' the Philly goliath
clothing statue around 15th and Market
constructed to clamp
onto Willys Nose

Wittnessin' the  "Parkin' Authority"
rhythmically writin' on pads
their violation ticket songs
to the quarter meters of cash flow

Drizzly watchin'
The multitude of "Ben Hurs"
precariously skim
and fly around the corner
at 16th and Market headin' north  And

seekin' self-infliction
by seriously
tellin' a waitress
that she really serves the best food in town. And
salutin' every Admiral dressed doorman
that I pass. Then later,

overhearin' a good "Samaritan"
tell a street ******
that four roses
can also be sniffed as well

Thoughts of Christ
nailed to the " Charles Schwab" edifice
with a thorny looking crown
made from antiquated ticker tape
His side pierced by
piggy bank breakers,
and the outpouring of green inscriptions
that state, " In God we trust."

All these things
race through the squeaking
reels of my mind already
corroded by seen corruption as a
passing Krishna group's chant permeates
the thick city air
And an unnoticed dying dove raises
its quivering right wing
as if in a last salute to peace

And all too well I know,
how the city devours its youth
like Goya's " Saturn Devouring his Son"

All too soon, in the sunlight
of my benevolent youthfulness within,
a chilled blanket of knowing about ignorance
overwhelms me
Tormented by indefinable tormentor,
The love-lust for life diminishes
and captured by surrounding greed
and torn asunder

Driven away, sitting in Rittenhouse Square,
touched by two lovers
as squirrels
scamper playfully
          over dead dried
                 Autumn leaves...
                         ...that  crackle...

My country right or wrong
we shall still sing her song and bombs away
on you
Bombs away on FDR we think he got away too far
in giving peasants below, our merit, the audacity to inherit,
our country 'tis only for me'

We'll work you until your flesh falls off, nine till five is not enough, to sell our gizmos here and far, to gluttons all alike
Ooops! (melody old man river)
...  Oh tote dat barge and lift dat bale,
ya gets ah little drunk and ya lands in Jaaail

Pull yourself by your own bootstraps, who cares if opportunity naps, while the "America Dream" fades away
cause thirty years of us

America ' tis only for me but not those signers of Democarcy
in Philly where they took that oath, on that **** parchment
I abhor,
on that damnable parchment I ABHOR!!

Remember that day of the phony "Mission Accomplished"
day, when thinking people viewed him in that jump suit with that extra crouch stuffing, and when your face turned
so red you felt liking ducking under anything available?
Well, here comes my writings about it, READY?...be brave...
be very brave...

You strutted on Lincoln steel;
not knowing what lay behind that thin-lipped-corporate-gah-gah-smile

Offshore a fool's victory you did declare
A vulture's feast you ushered in
as many sulfur dances engulfed both air and skin

What rooster pride you strutted on Lincoln steel,
while bulbs exploded in heated flare

How I remember you took that flight,
with a pseudo-manly-stuffed-buldge you said, "I 'm all right!"

In nightmares I see your faking smiling grin, as houses crashed
and innocent died, as flames created a reddened sky

Halloween-cowboy, flyboy-suit, a monster lurked on Lincoln
steel
And so, bulbs exploded in heated flare to land upon a nothing stare, to land upon a nothing stare,
to land...upon...a...nothing...stare