Odysseus needs a job he calls pima community college art department chairperson sends her his resume she does not respond after a week he catches her on phone she says he lacks proper credentials laughs to himself his whole life never worked lucrative or reputable position gets job working at thrift store wacky group of coworkers customers store frequently smells like public latrine job expires after 7 weeks he gets better paying job working at record exchange Odysseus always loved music everyday he learns new artist or band his coworkers are at least half his age they pester him about being slow on keyboard he never learned to type neither he nor his generation could have foreseen future would revolve around keyboard he plods on register keys people smile politely kids he works with fly fast making many keyboard mistakes November 29 2001 george harrison dies of cancer he is 58 years old Odysseus recognizes he is from past world different era of contrasting standards ‘80’s behavior is totally unbefitting let alone ‘60’s beliefs it is 2002 and one badly chosen word is sure to send someone flying off the handle he watches his language carefully co-workers mostly born in 1980’s grew up in 1990’s they live indifferent to hopelessness he struggles to bear none of them believe in higher power music is their religion he wonders what their visions concerns for humanity are? they seem addicted to consumption as if it is end in itself he questions what is hidden at root of their absorption? loneliness? despair? apathy? absence of vision? where is their rage against social conversion current administration? he warns them about homeland security act privacy infringement increased government secrecy power they shrug their shoulders why aren’t they looking for answers? why don’t they dissent? do they care where world is going? he realizes they will have to learn for themselves few coworkers read literature or know painters philosophy their passions are video games marijuana “star wars” most of them are extremely bright more informed than he often Odysseus needs to ask questions they know answers to right off the bat he is like winsome uncle who puts up with their unremitting teasing “hey you old hippie punk rocker get you fiber in today? stools looking a little loose! peace out old man” in peculiar way he finds enough belonging he so desperately needs they tell him stories about their friends *** addictions eating disorders futile deaths he is bowled over by how young they are to know such stuff job includes health insurance which is something he has not had since Dad was alive having some cash flowing in he buys laptop computer with high-speed connection cell phone trades in toyota for truck opens crate of writings he abandoned in ‘80’s begins to rewrite story sits blurry eyed in front of computer screen his motivation has always been to tell truth as he knows it he wonders what ramifications his labor will bring positive or negative results? he guesses his story will sound like children’s fable in stark brutality of distant future october 2002 3 week ****** spree terrorizes maryland virginia  district of columbia 10 people killed 3 critically wounded police believe white van responsible october 24 man and 17-year-old boy arrested in blue chevy caprice juvenile is shooter assailants linked to string of random murders including unsolved shooting of man at golf course in tucson Odysseus mentions incident at work speaks of prevailing terror madness in america co-workers kid tell him he is crazy “did you see a white van parked outside the store Odys?” they seem desensitized to increasing national atmosphere of anger panic or perhaps they are overwhelmed by weight trauma of modern life lie after lie prevailing  havoc slaughter make for dull numbness in world they know suicide is compelling option december 22nd 2002 joe strummer dies from heart failure at age 50 Odysseus’s eyes wet he adored the clash everything they stood for loved joe strummer and mescaleros he plays “global a go-go” over and over listens sings along with first track “johnny appleseed” march 2003 president bush launches attack against iraq united states seems drunk with “shock and awe” zealous blind patriotism many people politicians countries around globe question unproven line of reasoning saddam hussein possesses “weapons of mass destruction” Odysseus gripes “not another **** vietnam” record company allows employees to check out take home used product Odysseus stopped watching movies in 1980’s he has lots of catching up to do particularly likes “natural born killers” “american history x” “american ******” “fight club” “way of the gun” “******” “king of new york” “basquiat” “frida” “*******” “before night falls” “quills” “requiem for a dream” “vanilla sky” “boys don’t cry” “being john malkovich” “adaptation” “kids” “lost in translation” “25th hour” “28 days later” “monster” “city of god” “gangs of new york” “**** bill” list goes on perfect circle becomes his favorite band followed by tool lacuna coil my morning jacket brian jonestown massacre flaming lips dredg drive-by truckers dropkick murphys flogging mollies nofx stereophonics eels weakerthans centro-matic califone godspeed you black emperor magnetic fields fiery furnaces dresden dolls smog granddaddy calexico howie gelb sufjan stevens warren haynes dax riggs john vanderslice alejandro escovedo sean paul elephant man bjork p. j. harvey ani difranco aimee mann cat power sophie b. hawkins kathleen edwards mia doi todd kimya dawson regina spektor carina round neko case fiona apple nina nastasia beth gibbons mirah rasputina dr. dre talib kweli immortal technique murs slug atmosphere trick daddy eazy-e tricky list goes on october 21 2003 elliott smith commits suicide stabbing 2 wounds into his chest Odysseus thinks about music when jimi hendrix stood up at woodstock deconstructing national anthem on guitar it took courage when punk emerged with ugly screechy sounds attempting to divorce itself from melodious harmonies of 1970s complacent crosby stills nash  the dead kennedys and *** pistol did not pander to conventional commercial success what they performed were desperate gutsy songs trying to reclaim music rock’n’roll is no longer about inventing instead it imitates its glorious past hip-hop and rap come nearest to risking rebellion but are caught in gangsterism infantile self-adulation no longer does music offer vision of what is or could be instead it conjures looping escapism from hopelessness of modern life he continues working at record shop for several years store contains every genre of music cinema he grows weary of retail sales weary of higher-ups constantly changing rules dictating what to do head manager is manipulative drama queen thrives on crisis once in private admits stealing from company Odysseus nods not knowing what to say head manager works Odysseus hard keeps him down atmosphere of conspiracy betrayal hang at start of each day assistant manager routinely taunts berates bullies teases regularly calls Odysseus “dumb-****” or “****-up” other times laughs after goading Odysseus to flinch eventually bully backs off and they become friends retail pushes Odysseus to brink of misanthropy corporation requires all employees to exercise overt courteousness while serving a public of disrespectful gang bangers demanding “show me black market brotha lynch mac dre why ya godda keep dat **** behind da counter? dat’s ****** up hey old man i ain’t got all day” it always amazes him when shoplifter is caught with product stuffed down his pants thief blatantly states “i didn’t do it i don’t know how that got there” thanksgiving through christmas to new years is most swarming stressful he feels like automaton greeting customer scanning product looking at screen to see if price agrees with product typing money amount counting money into drawer counting money out handing change to customer handing customer product receipt next customer cockroach capitalism packs of masses line up in endless stream of needs stupid remarks job also involves trade appraising condition value resale probability of cds dvds video games tapes vhs vinyl news of  iraq war gets dismal mounting civilian casualties suicide bombers hostages beheadings beginning of 2004 reports of torture ****** psychological abuse **** ****** ****** of prisoners at abu ghraib prison guantanamo bay white house cover-ups denials growing insurgency increasing u.s. body count other costs he thinks about men and women who are so much braver than him then comes re-election and lavish republican parties parades cheney rumsfeld tom delay and whole regime smirk portentously on tv none of it makes sense anymore “we the people of the united states” what does it mean? the dreams and aspirations of his generation have long since faded away he is citizen of forgotten past current world is barbaric place he barely recognizes there are real pirates with machetes rocket launchers on the seas big drug corporations hiding harmful findings kidnapped children abandoned children crooked politicians corruption at every level of society horrifying stories daily ******* priests slave markets extreme heinous cruelties abruptly everyone is acknowledging society is worsening life is not the same he does not understand people and certainly does not understand america or the world he remembers when all could be so good modern existence has turned everything into madness what happened to lessons of history? it is as if Odysseus fell asleep and when he woke everything is changed he is mistaken about what he thinks he knows feels pity for people america pity disgust sorrow he misses his dog

You hide in plain sight as does day when engulfed by night
For darkness is simply…. The absence of light
You claim to have special enlightenment
And that your knowledge is for the better good of the people
Pledge your allegiance and your success will be imminent
Break your pledge and your death will be discrete
So why would you become part of something so “elite”?
With only one thing in mind; to see the human race in defeat.
An interminable amount of subliminal messages
Hinting at events that are destructive, demoralizing, and deceptive.
9/11… was it really an act of terrorism?
Or was it just an evil plot… something you guys expected?
Al-quaeda and the Taliban… roaming around in the lands of Iran
But on the land I walk some say it’s a misperception
Just a façade in our brain so the government secrets are protected.
Michael Jackson… and the Kennedy assassination
Were they both untimely events in American history?
Ghandi, The King,  Malcolm X,  Princess Diana, Shakur,
Paul, Marley, the Kennedys’, Lennon, Fredinand, Lincoln!!
All of  whom were either at your feet or tried to make your secret secrete
These deaths… from assassination to suicide… were all… “unfortunate” to the human eye?
Or were they “fortunate” for the Eye of the Beholder?
But why go to such great extent to have these powerful and influential people wiped from the human race?
To keep a secret that has been soooo well kept for hundreds of years?
A secret society that is not so discrete… anymore
Hidden in plain sight and away from the human eye…..
Trying to keep a disguise that will lead to our eventual demise
You aren’t doing the world any favors
By keeping an explicitly intricate order in store
You’re favoring your own world under one order
By intricately deceiving the minds of innocent citizens
So, you hide in plain sight, the light of the earth
A light you hope one day becomes permanently dark
Cause once again, darkness is only the absence of light.
With no light, we will be forced at the feet of your might
Despite a fight, with no light and your might, we’re all just mites stuck on your flight of new world order.
Well let me just end on this… **** THE ILLUMINATI!

remember the melding
of gilmore and bing
the springfield gates
and desmond ring

remember the trojans
and fools in the pack
sea fair jeans
and corkscrew flat

remember the cabin
and *****’s garage
the gary point dunes
and moncton mirage

remember the warehouse
the water logged seats
tin foil caps
and simple retreats

remember the cave
and turn on the cut
emery’s mini
and hamilton’s hut

remember the burger
and shake in the air
bubs in the back
with little despair

remember the valley
and 66 ford
burgundy lips
and samworth’s chord

remember the plainsman
a 7 inch log
the ***** old frenchmen
and bore-*** hog

remember the javelin
and mushay’s wheels
beaumont’s baggie
and jennifer beals

remember tough charlie
tossing brad rand
the belyae roundhouse
and beer in the sand

remember park polo
and scaling of firs
sleeping in rafters
at 8 bucks per

remember the mayflower
and brothers von grant
the max air follies
and chivalrous rant

remember the flipper
the floyd and the clap
banana boat sunday
and pemberton trap

remember the purples
the rasp in the street
the oliver jokers
and shady retreat

remember the gators
and brick house café
a flash in the pan
and crib cult stay

remember the church
and talbs on the bridge
goofy’s memoirs
and cypress ridge

remember smaldino
whom perry cut short
***** and a ****
and moria’s port

remember the zuker
and gilligan’s isle
the pep chew bust
and 8 tooth smile

remember the action
at blundell and one
the nauseous fumes
and pump house run

remember the canyon
and rock on the cliff
a tourniquet bind
that kept us adrift

remember lake skaha
and jvc tunes
the j bain query
and peach fest goons

remember the irons
and broad entry beads
the alexander boys
we must pay heed

remember the gates
the 12 hole stare
the hospital bed
and ky affair

remember the farmhouse
an open air deck
the john deere tractor
and cowboy neck

remember the wheat field
and jimmy crack corn
the burlington plaza
and fraser street ****

remember the pincers
and wee ***** white
the concubine fractures
and strong overbite

remember the carving
portrayed at the scene
the billy goat battles
a young man’s dream

remember lord brezhnev
and moby the ****
the second beach sun
and paper bag trick

remember the screening
the silver light show
banshee boots
and phipps’s throw

remember the epic
and baby oil block
trash can brassieres
and window rock

remember the law
jack rabbit in may
an 8 track mix
on alpine way

remember the dunes
a pig on the spit
the underarm hair
and corn bull-****

remember old frankie
and bursey head post
the koa leaves
and tiki shore host

remember b taupin
the lyrics he left
cold muddy waters
an odd treble clef

remember street regent
the trips in the night
the trailer park cap
and lightheart fight

remember kits causeway
mortimer and beaks
jk's cabin
and muscle bound freaks

remember glen cheesy
and billy the less
the frozen puke patties
and borkum mess

remember the catfish
and pickerel rock
the emerald meadows
and rainbow dock

remember port dover
with fish on a stick
wayne in a bunker
holding his ****

remember the ironside
limes in a tree
the usc campus
came with a fee

remember the duster
an arrow in heart
the frog man bug
that would not start

remember the zimmer
the ram air hood
a family wagon
with panels of wood

remember peace portal
the 33 back
the power built drive
and dangerous tack

remember the reds
the blues and the greens
the furry point island
and country book scene

remember the springs
and i 95
a lone state trooper
with blood in his eye

remember may’s cabin
and stuff in between
the frame and the picture
and morning snow scene

remember the boss
with a 302 scoop
the diamond tuft console
and back seat coupe

remember ioco
the **** and the spit
the skid road race
and hurst floor kit

remember the shore
and tents in the park
a campfire roast
and kerosene bark

remember the hooger’s
kit kat club
the colvin’s and setter’s
a man called bub

remember the creature
with silk strand hair
and afternoon flask
with little despair

remember quilchena
and robbie the mac
the rice stead box
and tap on the back

remember miss williams
a pilgrim’s salute
the fairmont sister
with all of her loot

remember port ludlow
a scotman on dock
the everett street bridge
and single leg sock

remember the masters
and all of the roar
the faldo follies
at norman’s door

remember jeff samson
tied in a tree
the robertson fastback
with white leather seats

remember the balance
and pulling of 4's
the moncton warehouse
and hollywood ******

remember the hospice
with carter in wear
the power of gospel
and magic in prayer

remember the mini
counting the crows
aberdeen villa
where all of it grows

remember the ballroom
the battle of bands
the buccaneer bikers
and front row stands

remember the steely
and 50 odd pulls
the crook in the cranny
and pilsner bulls

remember the mustang
tb paul
the ****** shack sergeant
was missing a ball

remember dear kevin
head first in the pool
a sheik in a minefield
and ****** gas fool

remember the rumble
and bats in the night
an old lady screaming
to a young man’s delight

remember cliff olsen
that sick little ****
who will be in shackles
on lucifer’s truck

remember the bumpers
and cutting in line
the mice on the ****
and bo in the pine

remember the law
stabbing the corn
a bucket of ammo
and mekong horn

remember s boras
the piercing of yes
the color line paper
sikosie at rest

remember the pinto
and seven road plants
mother’s fine pizza
a trial lawyer’s rant

remember the kennedys
with ***** painted black
a pond in the shadows
where monty looked back

remember von husen
the sea to sky test
a farm hands daughter
was one of the best

remember mr pither
and mao sae tung
helena the cougar
and egg foo young

remember the cinder
and frances road bake
***** the whitehead
would make no mistake

remember the quan
and mental mix
the java hut sister
with pixy sticks

remember j rosie
banging his head
in a moment of dr
we thought he was dead

remember the hammer
discussions caught short
siddrich and roger
and monty’s abort

remember 6 nations
and KOA
the pool hall fight
when everyone stayed

remember the skinners
and tommy the med
the lost tough china
and bubs in the shed

remember the doobies
zeppelin and cars
floyd and the *****
and shankar’s sitar

remember old dustys
the blue and red chair
the cypress hill caves
and mullet cut hair

remember the promise
and vows that we made
on the 2 road stairs
in goodman’s brigade

remember those moments
and handle with care
for the garamond stamp
will always be there…

The illuminati , a secret society
Gain wealth, power and notoriety
Sold soul to the devil for promised riches
Many well known, his *******
Overtime, accidental glitches

Secret is out due to young generation
The up and coming population
To catch the famous throwing up signs
Subliminal message, invades our minds
Television, campaigns...there's all kinds

The power in the hands, you will never believe
Throughout past ages the sickness breeds
Many preach peace from the devils dark
side
Lennon, Dr. King, Malcolm all died

Are Gods followers keen to the onset tide?

With greed an power the dark one temps the meek
Those that turn, are submissive and weak
A few famous names in powerful places
Obama, kennedys ....won there races
Washington, Lincoln....two old faces
All above, in this secret society
Makes you ponder their priority

One famous man that held great power
Warned of illuminati ...Dwight D Eisenhower

If you hate rap music you should give it a listen
Little Wayne, JZ - surprised what your missin
The Commander and Chief is given wide berth
This society is strong on this earth

If you think I'm crazy, which you surely will Google it....Youtube it......you'll get your fill

You are Irish. So am I. The Kennedys are, and so is half of ******* America.

We aren't special, you aren't unique, so put down your Guinness you freak.

I hate people being so proud of a land they have never been.

Our freckles and our hair and skin is the color of ham.

You act like the Irish invented beer

and are proud that the Celtic women have a big mule rear .

Our ancestors had to escape such a ****** forsaken place.

and you act like god chose you to procreate some master race.

I know that your family and mine spent years in mud.

Dirtier than swine, just to feed your family a diseased spud.

Our pink grandparents came here, and put down every other race that didn't match their rosy face.

So go find a leprechaun with a *** o' luck.

Don't raise a drink to our ancestry, because I don't give a ****.

Once we lived in a steam-punk wedding cake

the walls tasted like crème cheese icing

everywhere dripped chocolate rust

wheels and gears- pumping out bliss

the house would tick us to sleep

a quiet tock that snuck into our hearts

we beat together-our 3 tiered home and us

and we hung pictures of mixed historical value

the first time someone held our hands

the names of flowers we invented

and the towers twinned together- breathing in city air



Once we lived in a steam-punk wedding cake

The universe kissed our toes

In our rose petal beds

As we nibbled our marshmallow pillows

And greeted the cooler side with the grip of tiny fingers

We wore silly hats

And talked in accents no one could identify

We made our own curse words

That sounded more magical then rude

And we hung pictures of mixed historical meaning

Cartoons from before nickelodeon was bullocks

Our middle names in Braille

And the Kennedys on their wedding day



Once we lived in a steam-punk wedding cake

The home of chocolate fortitude

Where some days we wouldn’t turn on a light switch

And let the candles guide our imaginations

Down dark tunnels and secret gardens

There was never any hunger

Tears only came from happiness

We made capes out of our bed sheets

Chased each other under beds and hid in closets

Peeking out because being caught was our goal

And we hung pictures of mixed understanding

The 8 dirtiest jokes found in ancient art

That day when the sun felt like it would never stop playing with the moon

The day we stood still long enough to know the color of our eyes and the outline of our toes on wet grass

Come listen to.
Come listen by.
Come listen, come listen

The sun dapples in adjectives
in a language without words.
The movement of the leaf
like the dance of the honey bee.
Through a turmulent stream of hellos
they talk to each other.
Can you hear them my darling?
Come listen to.
Come listen by.
Come listen, come listen.

Not many can, anymore.
If ever they could (which I doubt).
Ancestors of flat grey we paint
with colorful commentary,
but it's too much to hold.
It's too much to believe.
Their ears-- closed as their scions.
Come listen to.
Come listen by.
Come listen, come listen.

You can train yourself--
your ears, your eyes.
to catch the whispers of
nightlace and dayfire.
Like the small entices of
old friends-- long lost.  
Forever there.
The Chopin of the rain,
the Dead Kennedys of  
eyes in the night.
Just listen to.
Just listen by
Just listen, just listen.

The poor wish to be rich.
As the rich hopes to never be poor.
Bettwen the two of these type.
The rich couldn't handle being without.

Notice the ones you see on the psychiatrist couch.
Explaining everything in great detail.
Concerning their expensive life.

Notice the differences between old money makers.
Compared to the new wealth individuals.
Pay attention to the names with great recognition.
Concerning the expensive life.

The Mercedes Benz and the Royces stands out around their houses.
And most of their friends has connection to the politicians.
And they best pretenders in existences.
Living around a premise.

The Rockefellers, the Kennedys, and the others has left their legacy.
Concerning the expensive life.

Notice, with some wealthy folks.
The way they eradicate their own fron any heritage.
Simply because they want their freedom to be growth.
But, all they have known is the expensive life.

And their expensive home.

The young guy turns
towards Bill
in the single bed;
his blue eyes
are as innocent
as cheese.

I thought you
were a gonna
back at that bar,
the young guy says.

Bill sighs, moves up
in the bed, getting
the young guy
into focus.

But you took them out
before I could blink,
the young guy adds.

One has to weigh out
the ends and means,
Bill says.

But you're an old guy,
I thought that was it.

Bill reaches
for a cigarette
from the bedside table
and opens it
and takes out one
and offers,
but the young guy
shakes his head,
so Bill lights up
and puffs away.  

You **** good.

The youth blushes,
looks at Bill,
then away
at the room.

Small, Spartan,
few bits of furniture,
few belongings.

You live here?

Now and then.

Where'd you live mostly?

Out of a suitcase.

The young guy
stares at Bill.

What was your job?

Government business.

C.I.A or FBI?

Can't say
or if I did
I’d have to **** you.

The young guy
begins to smile,
but Bill doesn't,
the youngster
stops smiling.

Something like that,
though?

Something like that.

The  youth
nods his head.

Did you meet
any one famous?

Bill exhales
and stares at the kid.  

I knew the Kennedys,
met Saddam and Gaddafi
and other creeps like that.

The youth opens
his eyes wide.

Really knew them?

Bill nods, looks away.

I knew them;
now they're all dead.

Who killed JFK?

Bill smiles;
can't tell you,
but you'll
find out one day.

Did you?

Bill shook his head;
no I was just
a young novice then;
I met Jack K
in a passage way
in the Big House,
back in 1962;
he tapped my shoulder,
had a nice smile,
liked the dames.

The kid looks
at Bill deeply.

Were you sad
when JFK died?  

I don't get sad
about things,
I survive
and move on;
now no more questions,
get me a coffee
and then
we can get back
to bed work again.

The young guy
nods his head,
gets up and goes
to the small kitchen
and makes two coffees;
on a wall,
pinned by a single pin
is a picture
of a blonde girl
and underneath
is scrawled in red ink:
innocent or guilty:
what do you think?

My name is Terry Fitzpatrick
I see familiar faces all around
Perhaps some long lost relatives
Still in County Cork who could be found

My grandfather, James William Fitzpatrick
Made his way to South Boston, Mass,
Just like thousands of Irish refugees
Was looked down upon as low class

“We don’t hire the Irish”
Signs posted on many a door
So he played piano and wrote songs
To feed his family of four

Side by Side and Beer Barrel Polka
Were 2 of his most famous songs
He sold the rights for so little
Few dollars, no credit, so wrong...

He had left County Cork in a hurry
Like thousands forced to leave town
His family, I’m told, were horse thieves
But The Famine’s what took them down

The Troubles continued in Boston
Fifty years before the Kennedys were crowned
My Grandfather kept drinking and singing
Grandmother died young without a sound

One of their 4 sons was my father
Clifford Joseph then had 4 sons and me
I’m proud of my Irish heritage
First one back to visit since 1893

We need to be putting people on planets
before there are Putin people on planets
so we can dictate a culture
free from dictators
deporting the Dutertes from the atmosphere
that burns the arrows of the Bolsonaros
there's no progressive bastion here
so we must look forward in the years
past all of the Kim Jong-uns
even though their bombs might fall soon
so we can find the Roosevelts and Kennedys
to change the scorching hell ahead we see
but those leaders are obstructed
by the not so brainy
followers of Ali Khameini
believing ancient myths and men who grift
there's so much mud to sift there's no way to lift
what keeps us from other planets
through nationalist panic
and conspiracy theories
reaching the selective hearing
of god fearing *******
calling Trump their master
and the oppressed their slaves
we need to reach other planets
but we're still stuck in the cave.

Teachers, good teachers,
Have it without throwing chalk.

Significant others use it daily
For Yes, or No.

You don't want to see it
In your Doctor's eyes.

Priests had it
Til we saw through the lies.

Superman has it in double.

Betty Davis had it.
Trump doesn't.
All the Kennedys did.

Parents use it
In the rear view mirror,
Or church,
Or anywhere they believe
Kids should be seen and not heard.

When children have it,
We're exposed,
And so is Santa.

One can't cultivate it.
It's as natural as our first breath,
And lasts til our last.

We used to sing a kind song
The melody rang true
Not like what you hear today
So many fell like you
  
This used to be a kind town
Where people shake your hand
You didn't have to worry
Of fire from a can
  
It's kind of like a sad song
Where people die from love
Or you can take a bite of this
Oh! No, you can't
Oh! No, you can't
  
We're trapped like rats in cities
Don't go outside to breathe
The politicians make it harder
And we just stand at ease
Or wind up Kennedys
  
We used to sing a kind song
We used to be a kind town
We used to sing a love song
What happens now?

Downtown Long Beach....Fender's ballroom...what a bash...every weekend burn and crash.  Angry Samoans, The Germs, Ramones, Descendants, FEAR, UK Subs, Exploited, the ****** Vandals, DRI, Dead Kennedys....the Circle Jerks....I saw all these bands and many many more before i was 16.  Sporting a white mohawk or black liberty pulls pushing pulling shoving slamming....those were the days.

Love letter in November
Happy to be part of the Juliets and the Kennedys and the women who never lose it
I would do it all in a heartbeat, and I would do it again
I'm in my glory days
My glory weeks and months and years
And I cling to it, not it's notion but it's being
All I can do is smile
Smile and warmth
That is what it is and you love.
You love and love and love

A door is never open
It's always ajar

A song is never sung
(except by fools
who insist on interrupting
the sacred business of drinking)
It is only heard
In the distance.

A glass is never empty
It's just lonely.

Friends are never a friend;
They're only the next act
Of treachery and tragedy
(Doesn't that sound poetic)

Poverty is the person
Who stole your prosperity.
Prosperity was a similar
But infinitely less honest
Kind of thief
Charity is the one true thief
I'll drink to that
(Truth be told, I'll drink to anything)

Oh dear God stop me
From ever becoming religious
You owe me at least that much
IOU a Jack, a Jim an' a Johnnie
(That’s Daniel’s, Bean an' Walker
to the unbelievers among your flock
of sad unsinners)
Being unholy is kind of cool
Holiness is in the concept
Religion’s got nothing
To be holy about
It’s an empty glass.
Drinking's got spirit
Dear God of mine
Make mine a double
I'll believe in you twice.

(Thank you, Janis. Why don’t we jack that Mercedes Benz you keep singing about? You can drive an' I'll be your loveable but inadequate companion, just like Gabby Hayes. I can’t do Tonto. The Noble Savage is beyond my range an’ anyway, you won’t wear a mask. The world is full of lonely rangers, but how many wear a mask? Maybe we could go to Mexico an’ I'll apply for the Cisco Kid's job. He wears great hats. I'd look cool in a hat like that. Is he any relation of Billy...?)
  
Loneliness in a glass
It's an urban myth
An’ a rural hype.
Drinking's only a curse
Morality is a disease
Curses are like glasses
You can lift them
Ever tried to lift a disease?
Aphorisms; don’t we just love 'em
Especially when we hide behind 'em.
(Is The Lonely Ranger
An aphorism in the making?)
They're a sign of conversational fear.
An’ fear is just a sign of itself
When it's got nothing else
To be fearful about
I think I'll have another drink
Before I start talking about Fitzgerald
And Malcolm the Vulcanologist.
Good word, vulcanologist
Impressive in the right company
Must remember to use it again
On the next innocent abroad.

Nobody loves you when you're just a poor drunk. A few people love you if you’re a clever drunk. But everybody loves you if you're a rich drunk. You've got a friend in every pocket, and that's what friends are for. Your relatives live in your wallet ‘an we're not talking photographs here. You can only trust your enemies. They at least will be true to themselves and as treacherous as only an enemy can be. Truth be told, there's truth in wine, but a sadder truth is: we all tell lies. The wine just makes them more delicious. We can all drink to that. The rich are never drunk, just unsober. Only the poor can be driven mad by drink. (It's the only experience of being chauffeur driven they'll ever have.) The rich are merely inebriate and eccentric. Class and euphemism are always so reliable. It’s a very rich language we have here; in every sense.

Especially when we talk in clichés
Even with perfect strangers
(Why are strangers perfect?
Are they some kind of deity?)
Clichés are a wonderful thing
When you have four fingers
Of blessed rye in your hand.
‘Only the good die young.’
That’s a great ole cliché.
‘Been down this road so long
It looks like upper street again’
That’s an even better one, I think
Bob Zimmerman’s brother in law
Didn’t get ‘round to being related
According to the romantic plan
“That’s not a cliché, that’s an
urban myth”, said the stranger
When Dante met Janis it was
Downhill all the way for them
Thank you, John Milton
Where would hell be without you?
In ever decreasing circles
You might say, an’ then again
You might not bother to say anything.
Intellectuals are sometimes lonely.
Perhaps you don’t speak to strangers
Even perfect ones in dark glasses
Who are unafraid to look in mirrors.
Let me buy you a drink in a darker glass
Did I tell you, me an’ Janis are
Heading down Mexico’s dusty way?
Elvis and Marilyn are living there
They were secretly married even
To each other's each other self.
They were all set to become
The King and Queen of America
But the constitution wouldn’t allow it.
Norman the Mailman’s going to write
(That’ll be the day dream all believers
Try to avoid believing in too much)
A bestselling an’ hard hitting novelty item
About it all, with the built-in revelation
That their kids were kidnapped
By all those dead Kennedys and ……
Is the floor getting closer or am I collapsing?
An’ what did you say
Your name was, Mephistopheles?
That’s a cute name. But why are you
Smiling at me in such a strange fashion?
Make mine a double; what’s your poison?

Only a matter of time
Is what I muttered to myself
For the better part of a week now
But that day has come
That day has come
And no one knows but me
And you
But you really knew all along
Didn't you?
Holidays tend to spell the end for me
And the writing on the walls is the same color as the warning lights I ignored for months
No one knows but us
No one knows but us
And only I know what these nights can do to me
Blasting Dead Kennedys to write this poem
Carve my doubts and solace into walls
I warned the both of us
but we were too young and proud to listen
We were warned
And tonight
If the devil goes down to Georgia
He will take Sherman with him
But the hand of war is here
And I can only keep it out of my heart for so long
State lines are prison walls
Only if you want them to be
An incarceration in my mind
Solitary confinement in my head
My heart beats like a gavel
Darling I'm here for life

I got revenge but it was a hollow victory.
Instead of getting pleasure, it horrified me.
Last year, a man ***** and murdered my little sister.
The pain is unbearable and I sure have missed her.
That punk got off because he was related to the Kennedys.
His underhanded lawyer convinced a jury to set him free.
When he came home last week, I used a knife to disembowel him.
I leapt out from behind some bushes and his death was grim.
I thought his death would make me feel really good.
But killing him didn't please me like I thought it would.
It shocked and horrified me, I feel even worse than I did before.
What I'm feeling on the inside is just too much for me to ignore.
I'm going to turn myself in no matter what punishment it brings.
I've learned the hard way that revenge isn't a good thing.

I had a dream about the *** pistols
Which was pretty odd
Because they were playing songs by the Dead Kennedys
I said this be ******,
I would rather jam to the clash
Joe Strummer was pretty cool

On the 20th of July in ‘69
I was on the Tien Sha peninsula
Probably shooting penicillin
Into some kid’s /ss for gonorrhea

(That too was a moon shot)

And listening to Radio AFVN
Not paying any attention at all
To Kennedys landing on the surface of
Their girlfriends and then leaving them to die

Soon I was sent to see the moon in Cambodia
More bodies floating in the water there