9th floor computer center with robots
  tending machines I met rebels like me.
  We were different in ways I never quite
  understood. We were rascals, thief's and
  honor bound to the broken fools we are.
  Benny boo and paper airplane contests
  and pillage the robber candy machine.
  We 3 night shifters kept our purity.

Wanted: Temporary wife
to tend to my pretend life
in Boston footloose guilt
the beer and ****** quilt
keeps me safe in dreams
nightmares leak in seams.

**** near naked trolling
  you pose through the bar  
  for another lover's love
  a plastic trophy tin star.
  Innocent buzzed I watched
  I was caught in your net.
  We loved for a half year.
  You left.  I've no regret.

I brought you in
cut you sins scars
innocence open
we fly among stars.

Welcome true Love.
I trust. Tread easy.
Don't become a ghost
haunt my memory.

My heart has become
fields of unmarked graves
calcified and numb
we're all Love's slaves.

The grain of truth took hold
on the cracked tenement walls.
Graffiti headlined fierce anger,
oppression and despair of slavery.
Not in **** cloths but denim and
gang colors, angry yellow eyes.
Hate boils in the rat **** homes
and foments into a masters' hood.

Like the worst of the televangelists,
they sell votes for silver and gold,
their consciences grown numb and atrophied
from lack of use.  It’s time these hucksters
are exposed and rejected. Term limit their
*****. Lobbyists pay expenses and they
let them write the bills they sign unread.
They are Orwell's failure of democracy.

****** young but old
my naked slave sold
popping bubble gum.
Tempt old men for fun.

Why can't we photograph thought?
    He's living with ghosts once more.
    His only friends were pigeons in a park.              
    I've fed pigeons, thousands of them for years
    One was different. It was a female.
    I loved her as a man loves a woman.
    She loved me. As long as I had her
    there was purpose to my life. The night
    his beloved pigeon died
    he saw a light in her eyes
    more intense than the most
    powerful lamps in his laboratory.
    When that light went out he said
    a light went out inside of me.

I will do this.
I will do that.
I'll even do that.
I will never do
that other thing!

They killed the Kennedy's
and MLK and Malcolm X
and Lenny Bruce and Marilyn.
They stole our truths and made
us ignorant. They gave us the
best politicians money could buy.
They live inside the DC Beltway
and grow fat on our silver. We grow
tired of bread and circus and fixed
elections and peaceful protests
burning buildings and cars and cops.
We want our country back in one piece.
If I pour gas on me and light a match
will it convince you I'm committed?
Will you **** on my ashes and dine
in opulence? You sold our jobs to
the cheapest bidder. You were supposed
to represent us. You bought anarchy and
unleashed it upon us to tame the unrest.
The 1% are the puppeteers holding all
our strings. We dance their dances with
our feet inside the approved lines.
Nothing's left to chance. They own our God.
The pen's mightier than the sword, poet!
Wield truth and set the world on fire.

They killed the Kennedy's
and MLK and Malcolm X
and Lenny Bruce and Marilyn.
They stole our truths and made
us ignorant. They gave us the
best politicians money could buy.
They live inside the DC Beltway
and grow fat on our silver. We grow
tired of bread and circus and fixed
elections and peaceful protests
burning buildings and cars and cops.
We want our country back in one piece.
If I pour gas on me and light a match
will it convince you of my disgust?
Will you **** on my ashes and dine
in opulence? You sold our jobs to
the cheapest bidder. You were supposed
to represent us. You bought anarchy and
unleashed it upon us to tame the unrest.
The 1% are the puppeteers holding all
our strings. We dance their dances with
our feet inside the approved footprints .
Nothings left to chance. They own life.
The pen's mightier than the sword poet!

They killed the Kennedy's
and MLK and Malcolm X
and Lenny Bruce and Marilyn.
They stole our truths and made
us ignorant. They gave us the
best politicians money could buy.
They live inside the DC Beltway
and grow fat on our silver. We grow
tired of bread and circus and fixed
elections and peaceful protests
burning buildings and cars and cops.
We want our country back in one piece.
If I pour gas on me and light a match
will it convince you I'm committed?
Will you **** on my ashes and dine
in opulence? You sold our jobs to
the cheapest bidder. You were supposed
to represent us. You bought anarchy and
unleashed it upon us to tame the unrest.
The 1% are the puppeteers holding all
our strings. We dance their dances with
our feet inside approved footprints.
Nothing's left to chance. They own our God.
The pen's mightier than the sword, poet!
Wield truth and set the world on fire.

Our government is a carcass
parasites eating its ideals
political prostitutes rich
from inside trader steals.

Lobbyists own all of DC.
**** the bone marrow dry.
**** the middle class now
the poor will do or die.

"The Fall Of Rome"

What ever happened to the fall of Rome?
What a strange thing to ask
When I was taking you home
As we walked alone through the parking lot
I said I don’t have much
You said I like what you got

And I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t picture you then
In your wedding dress
In the days I hoped we’d someday spend
In our Sunday best
We were light as a flame
Both batshit insane
We were lost
We were just the same

What ever happened to the fall of Rome?
You were a mystery to me
But the place felt like home
And there are no rules when you’re falling in love
You just take what you get and you hope its enough

And I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t picture you then
In your wedding dress
In the days I hoped we’d someday spend
In our Sunday best
We were wrong from the start
With our broken arms
You played your role
And I played my part

And the road was so long
I was never as strong
As the love you gave to me
And it all took its toll
You become so cold
You forget what you were born to be

What ever happened to the fall of Rome?
Those people all turned to ashes and stone
Its a trick of the mind when you think it won’t end
Its a contest with time
And time always wins
I saw a picture of you the other day
In your wedding dress
And wondered why I’d walked away
Like I had with the rest
The only thing that was worth saving
And I swear that I did my best
And sometimes at night
I dream of you now
In your wedding dress
And I hope it doesn’t seem somehow
Like I gave you less
I have nothing to show
From these years on the road
But these songs that I wrote you

She kissed me and
took my last breathe
sent my soul to fire
black and eating death
full of our dead desire.
I love me. I hate myself.

I took a rowboat out into God's anger
at midnight in His angry swollen sea.
I never cared about frailty or danger
I just had to row toward my fantasy.
Swept up in some kind of allegory
bordering upon my lonely purgatory
I might live. I might finally die
in my awful rowing another try.

The waves blood clots deliver
  whatever narrative he desires
  1984 2020 brick stacked on brick
  build this awful factory of lies.

  Row deep for truth below our feet
  beyond safe buoys mermaids sing
  wind can tear you from your seat
  your arms remain strong rowing.

The best decisions are sometimes
   made among friends in a bar called
   The Black Rose. Downtown Boston
   beers and my course corrected.
   Pin ***** bounce off bumpers and
   change everything. Believe in a God.

The caged bird sings!
Such a wonderful song
to wake to begin the day.
She is screaming for her
freedom from the cage.
I scream from my perch
in this zoo of houses and
neighbors and weight on
me to provide and be king
with all the answers for you.

……..” The chair “…….
It’s a chair, just a chair,
Deep veined mahogany,
Hessian layered,
And filled with hair.
It’s a bed, just a bed,
A book without a binding,
Silently recanting,
Where once lay a head.
It’s a glass, just a glass
But, my God it’s sacred,
Lips once lingered,
Indelible morass.
It’s a frame, just a frame,
Capturing heaven,
Such youthful abandon,
And filled with your name.
It’s a home, just a home,
That became a building,
That become a shrine,
When all alone.
It’s a chair, just a chair,
Of crafted joints,
With sabered legs,
And skillful debonair.
It’s a chair, just a chair,
Utilitarian,
It sits a corner,
Now you’re not there.
Seamus Ginty

I chase love over and over
like a dog chasing *****.
I have it in my jaw and drop it at
her feet. She just throws it again.
There are always more dogs than
hearts wanting to be fetched.

We worship on bar stools in smokey
  churches with neon gods and clergy
  behind the altar with the holy blood
  bottled in rows in front of mirrors.
  Our hymns play on a jukebox while
  we sway in harmony feeling the grace
  flowing between our souls as one.
  Our bible is the newspaper and we
  confess our sins to each other.
  At last call we're given absolution.

It's almost midnight and the bars are
  throbbing like my first time but they
  keep going strong 'til we can hardly
  stand at 4am and get White Castles.

  I always hope for an angel to save
  me by closing time. The lights never
  dim and the noise is constant in NYC.
  Angels are scarce and life is cheap.
  
  Maybe she'd save me from myself and
  the land mines I always seek for me.
  Maybe she'd take me to the promised land
  of milk and honey and sweet lasting love.

I hear your bones rattle in the attic
  after midnight and my fear beats in
  my ears. I know you'll come for me up
  the stairs alone and do it all again.

I hear your bones rattle in the attic
  after midnight and my fear beats in
  my ears. I know you'll come for me down
  the stairs silently and do it all again.

He lives in the smallest house.
  He's ordinary without pretense.
  He fought in the war. He never
  talks about it. He drank his ****
  to survive. That's what they say.
  He's my father. The common man.

I'm from the future
   I'm from the past
   time is relative
   slow and fast
   I love my life but
   I'll be leaving soon
   chasing desires to the
   dark side of the moon.

They haunt dreams and Oh!
how we laugh! Aunt Blanche
drinks jug wine and smokes menthol
cigarettes and calls me Kid.
She loves me and she
knows my horrible love better
than I ever could. It's in flak
that tears airmen from the
sky in wars that leave us to
bail out from burning loves.

1941 the rebel daughter was lassoed
   and corralled. The ghouls ****** her
   brain with a butter knife, called
   her cured. She was walking dead.
   Rose was 2 again. Her father made
   presidents and she was in the way.
   He didn't know about Karma and the
   Kennedy's died over and over again.
JFK, Bobby and John F. Kennedy Jr.
We've been mourning our death since.

When my demons win I'll live in fear
    in ugly memories just before the dawn.
    In a hall of mirrors truths are blurred
    and all I tell are lies, the devil's pawn.
    We stretch light. We slow time. We fill our
    veins with black tar. We welcome the flight.
    It never lasts but the next taste is the final
    shot that will hit the top. Follow the light.

I'm little people and work in a kitchen as a sous chef.
    Long hours and chop chop chop all ******* shift 'til it
    finally ends and we escape to our addictions of pleasure.
    We wake in different beds tangled with strangers we know.
    I'm a ******. I've slept with every braniac you can imagine.
    They come in minutes and spend hours trying to convince me
    their *ism is the one true god. I listen, I'm paid and I leave.
    There's no difference. We need love of any kind and any cost.

I'm little people and work in a kitchen as a sous chef.
    Long hours and chop chop chop all ******* shift 'til it
    finally ends and we escape to our addictions of pleasure.
    We wake in different beds tangled with strangers we know.
    I'm a ******. I've slept with every brainiac you can imagine.
    They come in minutes and spend hours trying to convince me
    their *ism is the one true god. I listen, i'm paid and I leave.
    There's no difference. We need love of any kind and any cost.

I have lived forever it seems to me.
70 plus years and I've seen it all.
Throughout my life there's always
a dog in the road no matter what.
I think it might be God watching
over us. He's always a mongrel.
I saw Him run over by a car and
He was dead. 3 days later alive.

We all died that night.
November storm's fright.
Pray in the water's ****
for deliverance escape.

When it came it surprised me how quickly it was done.
   I expected the end to take some time, maybe a little drama.
   Within an instant I went from cutting grass to being a bit
   piece of some enormous, all knowing energy. Overwhelmed.

   I was no longer me.  I was everything that had ever lived!
   Plant, animal, microbe, every thought ever thought, every
   feeling ever known from every world that ever was.  Each
   blade of grass screaming when cut down in its prime.

   I thought wars would be the most horrible of all, but
   it happened to be the personal cruelties visited upon
   cells by cancerous bullies who cared only for themselves.
   Life is hoarded by all.  Only the strong will survive.

We are lottery winners,
alive here and now with
choices and voices inside
fences of our own making.
We live in paragraphs and
chapters until the ending.

A ****** horror show
  promises of death's door
  anchors pretend to know
  we believe but we ignore.

It happened in a field on a picnic.
We laid a blanket on the tall grass
and we're so full of love we can't eat.
We hunger for virginity's ending.

Spring

We fall in love
fist in glove
a God above
birthing dove.

Summer

Build our nest
for our blessed
birth a ****** mess
she survives distress.

Autumn

Princess on a carousel
Loves knight foretell
parts heaven and hell
down the wishing well.

    Winter

Old bones always ache
cold as hell, a snake
as I die my soul take
to hell, no mistake.

I'm really more you than I know.
Who said that? Am I inside a dream?
Are you my shadow less shadow
the ghost in my machine?
I do horrible things, is that you?
Are we partners in these crimes?
I see horrors on our horizons no
matter you or me or us. End times.

The dead hover in darkness
shadows and the evil shade.
Watching us as we undress
naked showers. They fade
in fog and heavy rains
hide inside poet's word
inside our busy brains
Whispers almost heard.

Some would call it only chance.
   Some would name it circumstance.
   Others say it's writ upon high.
   Her name is Fate. She'd never lie.
   She won't predict your tomorrow.
   She won't promise joy or sorrow.
   We never see any rhyme or reason.
   Like weather it betrays the season.

Memories play hide and seek.
Golden years of ***** reek.
Next birthday is very bleak.
Hoping for just one more week.

Only the crème de la crème are invited.
The lords dressed like penguins and the
ladies explode in colors of spring flowers.
They're announced. Peacocks and proud pigeons.
They mingle. They trade the latest gossip.
They drink like only the rich afford.
They dance like perfect couples should.
After the charade they join their lovers.

I drove to Boston with
  a teacher and a dealer
  and a snake oil healer,
  left family like trash
  burned it down to ash
  in a lightening flash
  shrinks passed me on
  one to another ******
  to stay inside my mind
  and they rob me blind
  the calm before a storm
  world's fabric is torn
  hear God's heart beat
  feel hell's cruel heat
  the panic attack I have
  a bus stop on Mass Ave.
  I walk miles to my womb
  my tiny safe attic room.

I drove to Boston with
  a teacher and a dealer
  and a snake oil healer,
  left family like trash
  burned it down to ash
  in a lightening flash
  shrinks passed me on
  one to another ******
  to stay inside my mind
  and they rob me blind
  calm before the storm
  world's fabric is torn
  hear God's heart beat
  feel hell's cruel heat
  the panic attack I have
  a bus stop on Mass Ave.
  I walk miles to my womb
  my tiny safe attic room.

I remember as a child a trip
  to the zoo. Accountants count,
  janitors sweep, hucksters steal
  wealth, priests save lost souls,
  prostitutes sell easy love by the
  hour and pimps take a percentage,
  preachers sell heaven by the ounce
  and the IRS always gets its pound
  of flesh, politicians take bribes
  and shred the constitution smiling.

The Irishman's Grave

He had to flee his Ireland.
The God ****** British
stole his life and land.
He floated to America.
John Donovan from Cork
was my great grandpa.
Stubborn as a mule and
strong as an ox he lived.
There's a deep dark hole
we Irishmen bury anger.
God help you if you ever
find yourself in our hell!

He had to flee his Ireland.
The God ****** British
stole his life and land.
He floated to America.
John Donovan from Cork
was my great grandpa.
Stubborn as a mule and
strong as an ox he lived.
There's a deep dark hole
for Irishmen to bury anger.