What are we teaching?
Who are we reaching?
What have we taught today?
Buy him a toy gun
Looks like a real one
Who have they fought at play?

Cowboys and Indians
Act like the real ones
At least like we saw on TV.
Cowboys the good guys,
Indians the bad guys.
Perfect authenticity.

White folks meant no harm
Just came there to farm
Four thousand years of land.
They had no papers
Really invaders
Things just got out of hand.

A clash of two cultures
Then food for the vultures
Everyone thought they were right.
But in the long run
Law made decisions
All in favor of the whites.

Words were encouraged
Dignity disparaged
White people called them savage
Due no respecting
And fit for just killing
Then plenty of land they could ravage.

Textbooks got altered,
The ministry faltered;
Heathens deserve what they get.
Jesus cherished the meek
But whites turned no cheek.
They haven’t quite fixed things yet.

What are we teaching?
Who are we reaching?
What have we taught today?
Children play death games,
Who can we all blame?
Are there no other games to play?

Let’s sit under this tree
Just you and me
And see what we can
From this piece of land.
Let’s see what is natural
And something others call
Contrived, manufactured
In their pricey lectures
To sell books and CDs
To clueless entities
Sitting on their couch
Ready to loudly grouch
About how poorly they are used
How they are abused
By the way others live;
Always have an opinion to give
Of what others should do
People like me and you
To whom they’re not related
But somehow got delegated
To a pool of the ******
Who they want to see crammed
Into flaming tour buses to hell
When Gabriel’s horn swells
And Jesus himself decides
Where the line divides
Those worthy to be saved
And those others who were brave
And tell the rest to adhere
To the line dividing queers
And the unbaptized sinners
From the rest of the winners
Who once read The Bible.
The rest are held liable
And will be sent to perdition
Due to their position
On The True Religion
Based on ancient renditions
Of fables and fairy tales
Of water wine and hungry whales.
There will be many Arabs in hell
And these folks know **** well
There will be no Mormons going
No Jewish representation showing,
Just good old fashioned Baptists
And maybe a few of the Papists
Certainly not that many
Maybe not any.
As I said, let’s sit and see
What happens to you and me
While we wait patiently
And see in the meantime
How many faithful commit crime
And intolerance in the name of God.
It should be pretty odd.

He was sitting on a fencepost
A mouth harp in his hand
He started making music
Like a ghostly rubber band.
He called me a stranger
And, I asked him how he knew.
He raised his head and stared
And seemed to look me through.
He said:
There is nothing down this highway
But heartbreak and a tale
Nobody will friend you here
There’s nothing good for sale
We are here with no way out
So move right on away
You only have your freedom
If you don’t let yourself stay.

Some people think it’s heaven
‘Cause they never had a chance
They never had a friend before
A storybook romance.
They made some stupid choices
Now there’s a piper to pay.
They’re deaf to rhyme or reason
No matter what you say.
Some believe they never had
The character to change,
That they were born without a dream
The hopeless and strange.

But we know lonely backroads
That never reach the bay.
We live in fogs of memory
Here in Futile Quay.
Where once we were children;
Now we never smile.
Our trip down this highway
Is a never-ending mile.
So go on back to comfort
To security and plans.
Stay too long in Futile Quay
You’re out of fortune’s hands.

I have a list of stuff
I want badly to fix
But I don’t really mean it.
I have in mind
A perfect world
I’ll know it when I’ve seen it.

It’s going to take
A while for me
To deal with all my issues.
It will be quite
A lot of work
And lots of boxes of tissues.

It’s rather like a
Treadmill thing
That only I can see.
It may not be
So visible but
It looks like work to me.

Sometimes I feel
Like Sisyfus
Pushing boulder up a hill.
It’s never ending
And each time
I think I’ve had my fill.

Then something comes
Along to show
The light shining up ahead
And I remember
Much of what
I’m fighting is in my head.

So, I complain
And ***** inside
But I should never doubt it
Because I know
I’m the only one
Who can do something about it.

I know from my past, gym class
From locker rooms, I learned fast
That lots of guys have winners
But my sausage is from Vienna.
I got a little bump, a tiny little lump,
Like a hamster has taken a dump.
Nothing bulges my shorts at the crotch.
Not much there for anyone to watch.

But our society puts the emphasis
On just how big your business is.
If you have a tiny peter, my friend
Many kinds of applause will end.
Go read the writing on the walls,
Because you will inherit the catcalls
And no matter how much you moan
They come through no fault of your own.

Regarded as less than a man; sick
Or perverted to have a small ****.
As too often I have been told
Since as a kid and not very old
Amid laughter and cruel jests
I have learned a big **** is best.
No matter it’s something I can’t change,
Apparently a small ***** is strange.

In time I left behind those taunts
As I left behind adolescent haunts.
The pain has become only a taint;
The scars of bullies with no restraint,
But I am sure I never will fully be
Free of their thoughtless bigotry
As I reach the age of an old codger
Dealing with life with a not so jolly roger.

It seems that just like prices
Your salary always rises
But when it comes to mine
You quickly draw the line
And tell me to do without
Then you begin to shout
That you are the party that
Always tips your hat
To the good old days
And the good old ways
How the country should run
But only you are having fun.
You and the other rich kids
Have all the toys and games
While our lives stay the same;
Underpaid and underfed
Until we are all dead
And only you remain.

That is your refrain
In the marching song you sing
And the privation you bring
With your deals and lies.
Just one of the guys.
And we are left out in the cold
Unless we happen to get bold
And call you out for villainy
For stealing every penny
And begrudging us an ounce
Of clean ***** on which to pounce
To grow a meager garden here
To feed us one more year.
But that seems against your rules.
We that are your tired mules
And can’t afford to bribe you
To do what you know you ought to.

Why are you shouting out loud?
Are you saying I am too proud?
Do you think I am undeserving?
If so, it is completely unnerving
That you don’t want me to own
What you see as yours alone;
A sense of dignity and hope.
You must see me as a dope
Who can’t see you getting rich.
You are one shallow sonofabitch
If you think just calling me villain
Will somehow make me willing
To give up my own free voice
So that only you have a choice
About how much I will make
And which decisions I take
About my own home and body.
Can you really be that shoddy?

Well, yes, I have learned you are.
You think you are a superstar
And are immune to decency
That your star is in ascendency.
Well, I really hope that it is not
And that your tail gets caught
In the door before it slams
And we see the last of your scams
And your nepotistic buddy deals
And get back to what is real
And proper for our poor nation
Instead of graft and intimidation
That makes wealth for a few.
Nothing for me, all for you.

An old man’s eyes
So much they have seen.
Actors and extras
In some memorable scenes.
Dim with time, perhaps
Yet they’re working still.
Seeing all the landscapes
But, from over the hill.

Happy young children
Playing with jackstraws,
Sliding down hills and
Riding on seesaws.
Growing up quickly
And thinking about cars
Becoming too busy
For looking up at stars.

An old man’s eyes
Saw the ages go by
Learning the lessons;
By unsuccessful tries.
Trying so hard to be
Just one of the guys
Growing old gracefully
And hopefully wise.

Singing songs of sixpence
Not knowing what it was
Echoing parent’s politics
Not understanding the cause.
Hearing about god-fearing
Never reading the book.
Not retaining a word said
In the courses we took.

An old man’s eyes
Can be fooled at times.
It doesn’t work out like
In old nursery rhymes.
The wolf gets the grandma
The houses blow down.
And beneath the old eyes
There was often a frown.

Going into the military, then
Looking but not really seeing,
Ignoring people without my luck
Selectively blind way of being.
Told there were people who were
Not part of the world we live.
Gathering mulberries while I could
Not having extra I could give.

An old man’s eyes
So much they have seen.
Actors and extras
In some memorable scenes.
Dimming with time, perhaps
But they are working still.
Seeing all the landscapes
But, from over the hill.

It’s New Year’s Eve!
Let’s get knee-walking plastered.
Don’t eat anything today,
It gets to your bloodstream faster.

It’s Saint Patty’s Day!
Let’s get ******* on green beer.
I’m Irish, so I am entitled, you see
And I won’t be again until next year.

It’s my birthday!
Let’s get plowed out of our minds.
Let’s drink everything in sight
And ***** every ***** we can find.

It’s Saturday night now!
Let’s do a bunch of beer bongs!
Anything that’s okay with my gang
It’s all good. It can’t be wrong.

It’s Fourth of July today!
Let’s have a picnic so we can drink.
But not fancy cocktails for me.
I don’t care for throwing up pink.

It’s Labor Day today!
Let’s do a chugalug contest today.
We’ll laugh at nothing at all
And drink the whole day away.

It’s a sporting event tailgate party!
Let’s get drunk together in a parking lot
And act like the teenagers we think
That we are when we really are not.

It’s Happy Hour! Hooray!
Let’s eat buffalo wings and imbibe
And hope the cop that stops us
Is okay with drunks or accepts a bribe.

It’s a bachelor party right now!
You don’t want to offend the host. Drink!
Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow
Well, it will be more sober than you think.

Walking in circles
In my lonely room,
Talking to shadows
As if they were blooms
And blossoms of love;
Old friends and lovers
Cousins and brothers.

Running in circles
Through my many pasts;
Forgotten or misbegotten
Some fleeting some lasted.
Replaying old movies
That played inside my head
Of people and places
And things that were said.

Walking in circles
Through the phases of life.
Trying not to remember
Times that cut like a knife,
Trying instead to rewrite
My history to come out right
Where nobody was unhappy
And there were no fights.

Stumbling in circles
As my body was getting old,
Too hot in summer
And, in winter, always cold.
But still I remember
My wonderful cast of stars
That have come and gone
Through my life thus far.