#24 Weird

Look At The Bums

Look at the bums,
here another one comes;
last week, maybe he had
a job in a factory,
but they downsized.
CEO got a bonus
for thinking that way;
everybody, especially
the stockholders, thinks
that he s a great man
eats off a ten thousand dollar plate
at the White House,
shakes the right hands.
Here comes a bum,
got a tear in his eye,
I immediately criticize,
say that he is a crack addict
who will want a quarter
from me.
He asks for money for food.
Why don t you get a job?
Why don t you get a job,
like me?
See,
you and me
we're living in the land
of opportunity.
Oh no,
I just lost my job..

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Let's pretend that Lawrence Ferlinghetti is a liar

Let's pretend that we don t have a soul,
that we don t know what s going on,
that as long as we keep paying the mortgage
that everything will be o.k.
Let's pretend that Lawrence Ferlinghetti is a liar,
and that people with millions, and billions of dollars
will act in our childrens' best interest.

See my child.
See him grow.
I don't want him to go to war.
No, no, no.

Let's pretend that if we close our eyes,
they won t cheat us blind,
that after all this time of screwing us
that they will now suddenly play fair.
Let's pretend that if it s happening over there,
it can t happen here.
Let's pretend that the religious man on the t.v.
doesn't just want our dollars,
and that politicians are not sleeping
with the chairmen of the board

Let's pretend that ketchup is a vegetable,
and that the homeless person is happy
living on the street.
Let's pretend that we don't need clean sea water,
and that it's o.k. that our rivers are polluted, too.
Let's pretend that three corporations owning
all the news outlets is the best way
to disseminate information.

Let's pretend that there really is a Santa Claus,
and that he will tell us what to do.

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Workers Sneaking Into The Zoo

Idiotic replies to my
pseudo suicidal emails
threatening to free Charles Manson
make Ted Bundy rise
like a bunny on Easter
put your money in the basket
while your children arm themselves with machine guns
to go to schools that you bought with your Mercedes
that you stole from workers sneaking into the zoo
past the hookers past men strung out on malt liquor
crack cocaine and poverty.
Why do people have to suffer?
Why do people have to hate?
I sit in the fancy bookstore now typing
on a laptop somebody paid for for me.
Why does Europe hate us
side with Pakistan in the Middle East?

I won’t tell any lies.
If you listen very carefully you will hear
Bob Marley whispering in my ear
drowning out the Saturday night conversation.

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I can’t oppose a war for oil
if my primary goal is
to ride in a limousine.

I shouldn’t use my platform for peace
as a stepping stone to getting my face
on the cover of The Rolling Stone.

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You run I hide you seek

I drive past houses
where people used to live.
Now, they're not vacant
but where has everybody gone?
You need not care if you cut your hair
it is not the color of your skin
that will stand before you at the gates of Hell.
Oh, well; you run I hide you seek.
i chew on a toothpick
they smoke cigarettes
between an undergraduate
and a master's degree.
I can't run away.
When frat boys string guitars
and artists play intramurals,
won't the world be such a blur.
I’m so uncertain not sure
if I should carry on;
worthlessly semantic manic
not in a state of ease
I'm too busy to panic
God must be crazy
he made me.

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Your Credit Cards Subjugate Us

Your credit cards subjugate us.
Your oil companies strand us
their mound of cheese grows
bigger while we nibble on air
polluted and pumped into what?
We eat chickens and cows
so strung out on growth hormones
that they make it seem like
Jimi Hendrix wasn’t getting high.
Everybody’s got to die
but why does it have to be
such a pain in the ass to get there?
There will be a doctor waiting to
buy martinis with your liver
a soul less surgeon will have already
stolen your heart sold it on the
internet given your descendants
not a pint of blood.
perhaps your christ shouldn’t be
so harsh he causes you to be mean
gives your children no alternative
to the noose when they do what
nature says to.

settle down...

FIND JESUS FAST
lose your virginity
slow down it s the end
of the world allegedly
don t blow it show your
true colors yesterday
your flag was green today
you re waving the red
white and blue.

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The Other Person Poem of The Week
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I Know Their Meanings

I hear
The language of trees
The words of water
The voice of air. . . .
And I know their meanings.

Thank you Great One.

I see
The writings of wind
The painting of clouds
The art of breathe. . . .
And I know their meanings.

Thank you Majestic One.

I feel
The emotions of a storm
The touch of dew
The drama of existing. . . .
And I know their meanings.

Thank you Splendid One.

–Just Joan




This is Just Joan. She took all the pictures that you see above, and also wrote The Other Poem of The Week. I didn't put any tags with the photos, because without them, the pictures have a cinematic quality about them. I will explain who everyb
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I put a violin in my son’s hands when he was around three years old, praying that he would take to the instrument, but resolute to not force him to stick with it if he wanted out. Well, after a couple of years, he wanted out. I was bummed, because the young kid was playing, “Blowing in the Wind,” by Bob Dylan, among other songs, and I was enthusiastic about our musical future. I could see Graem, on stage, playing violin, while I stood next to him spouting word: my words, a.k.a poetry.

Things on violins break, so I went to a really neat Violin Store in Downtown Decatur, Georgia. There I met the nicest, and most interesting man: Paul Mecer. He was a violinist, himself; a really good one, and I have been fortunate to be able to follow his career over the last couple of decades. Paul’s violin has lead him to perform in front of audiences all around the world. He is an amazing performer. One of his projects is called The Ghosts Story. Joan, and I, were fortunate to catch this musical adventure the other night.

Joan’s pictures of this event read like a motion picture, that is why I have put no captions with the pictures. I want you to feel Paul Mercer and Just Joan’s flow. Paul is the violinist in all of the pictures; Dave Petterson is the percussionist, and Sacha Dzuba is the guest violinist. The Belly Dancer is Monet Fort. These four put on an amazing show.



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“They Shot Bob Marley Outside The Dakota.”
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"Harumph, Mikel K; harumph." (Photo Source Unknown).