Little Kings on the shores of Jamaica
calling to the Lovers
on the sunny side
Up in darkness
through the little
Lite house
Every Joker
in all the emotion
sees his life
through his tanned
lotion.
No where
No time
the Lovers stood still
hoping & dreaming
& thinking still
the Joker called out
to the kings of Emotion
stop all the tanning!
they left with devotion.
No one cares for Jamacian Runners
in the evening
or under the covers
Sally or John
in the morning
or fog
let me alone-
alone with my Dog!
she understood all
the emotions
painfully singing
the song of sun lotion.
Lying awake under
the stars
in Hollywood's Mars
slick, shiny
consumption-he leaves
with some gumption
under his thumb
under his thumb.
The crowd wails
in earnest
the stupid-the learnest
call to the Mexican
Barber and Florist
flowers and towers
and mild cornflakes
off of the skin
the peeling begins.
Talking to Trees,
"Please, Please!"
No answer received
from the wood
with the leaves.
My mind says a bind-
abide by the rules
that's why they established
little red schools.
But alas at last
forever and now
Everyone knows you
and the plow has
made fertile the soil
while science decides
on poison and med
and movies, movies
cars, bars, stores
laws, draws, tans
land and refills
pools, tools, chairs
and no-cares
clothing and posing
for flickers of light
to record a moment
of no real delight.
Power-power is on!
Thank goodness for
Power-thankfully
thanking the man
with the charm.
Cleaning the stool
on which he sat
The Mexican Dancer
with the little
stray cat!