Archive for September, 2006

Is She Ever?

Thursday, September 21st, 2006


Is she ever with intent when she likens herself to a crow?
Will she crow and say bingo?
“I’m a believer” she tells me…
But is she ever going to cry?
When the directors bark from out there in the dark?
Fly sister vibrate; you were automatically free.
The moment you came to me.
Is she ever coming back for me?
Is she ever coming back for me?
Say it loud and we shall see.
Is she ever coming back for me?

Thursday, September 21st, 2006


This is not love
This is not even worth a point of view
In Echo Park I
pause for effect and whisper “Who are you?”

They crawl out of their holes for me
And I die: you die
Hear them laugh, watch them turn on me
And I die: you die

See my scars, they call me such things
Tear me, tear me, tear me
But I have your names
Screaming “You will suffer” and “You’re all too late”
Now I feel young
Does everything stop when the old dame fails?

They crawl out of their holes for me
And I die: you die
Hear them laugh, watch them turn on me
And I die: you die
See my scars, they call me such things
Tear me, tear me, tear me

But I’m still frightened by the telephone…


Wednesday, September 20th, 2006


Mom and dad went to a show
They dropped me off at Grandpa Joe’s
I kicked and screamed, said please, dont go

Granma Take Me Home

Had to eat my dinner there
Mashed potatos and stuff like that
I couldn’t chew my meat too good

Granma Take Me Home

She Said, why don’t you stop your crying
Go outside and ride your bike
Thats what I did, I killed a toad
Granma Take Me Home

After dinner i had ice cream
I fell asleep and watched TV
I woke up in my mothers arms

Granma Take Me Home

Wanna be alone

Hazy Jane…

Wednesday, September 20th, 2006


Which will you go for?
Which will you love?
Which will you choose from,
from the stars up above?

Which will you answer?
Which will you call?
Which will you take for,
for your one and all?

And tell me now…
Which will you love the best?

Which do you dance for?
Which makes you shine?
Which will you choose now?
If you won’t choose mine?

Which will you hope for?
Which can it be?
Which will you take now?
If you won’t take me?
And tell now…
Which will you love the best?

My Mushroom Art

Wednesday, September 20th, 2006


Living without you is difficult
But our dead dreams awake
In my mushroom art

Do not observe her beauty
Cloud faced oldman winking
You see, he tests me
He wants I should join him in gratitude
For his craft, he calls this love
But hardly so…

Happy the universe
Happy is the act
A bejeweled crow on a quilted tent
Yes, at the zenith
Our dead dreams awake

Living In An Abandoned Firehouse With You

Tuesday, September 19th, 2006


You’re in your own little world; an expensive birdcage
like a plastic baby in a Faberge egg.

I saw you today at the Cafe Blase
and thought of the nights when we had fire fights
Nameless seaside ghost town…
That’s where I go when I see the moon…
Living in an abandoned firehouse with you

You’re in your own little head in a field of sunflowers
and there’s blood in your mouth and there’s rats all over town.

Take me out to the beach and I’ll tell you my secret name
Take me under the sea and we’ll derail the trains
Let’s run away into the caves…
I still love you I still love you baby

You’re in your own little box with ribbons in your hair
and there’s dust in your mouth and worms in the air
Hideous city of unknown words…
That’s where I live when I go to sleep
in an abandoned firehouse with you.

Have It Again

Tuesday, September 12th, 2006


Experienced heirs, funny old men
Gave up their shares to have it again
They want to have it again
What would you give to be 9 or 10 again?
Back to the dealer, what were the plans?
Funny old men, sitting on their hands
Waiting, they want to have it again
What would you give to be 19 or 20 again?
What would you give to be 49 or 50 again?

Desolation Row

Thursday, September 7th, 2006


They’re selling postcards of the hanging
They’re painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They’ve got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they’re restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row

Cinderella, she seems so easy
“It takes one to know one,” she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he’s moaning
“You Belong to Me I Believe”
And someone says,” You’re in the wrong place, my friend
You better leave”
And the only sound that’s left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row

Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortunetelling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel
And the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he’s dressing
He’s getting ready for the show
He’s going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row

Now Ophelia, she’s ‘neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid

To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession’s her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah’s great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into Desolation Row

Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood
With his memories in a trunk
Passed this way an hour ago
With his friend, a jealous monk
He looked so immaculately frightful
As he bummed a cigarette
Then he went off sniffing drainpipes
And reciting the alphabet
Now you would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For playing the electric violin
On Desolation Row

Dr. Filth, he keeps his world
Inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients
They’re trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser
She’s in charge of the cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read
“Have Mercy on His Soul”
They all play on penny whistles
You can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough
From Desolation Row

Across the street they’ve nailed the curtains
They’re getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera
A perfect image of a priest
They’re spoonfeeding Casanova
To get him to feel more assured
Then they’ll kill him with self-confidence
After poisoning him with words

And the Phantom’s shouting to skinny girls
“Get Outa Here If You Don’t Know
Casanova is just being punished for going
To Desolation Row”

Now at midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders
And then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles
By insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping
To Desolation Row

Praise be to Nero’s Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody’s shouting
“Which Side Are You On?”
And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain’s tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much
About Desolation Row

Yes, I received your letter yesterday
About the time the door knob broke
When you asked how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they’re quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can’t read too good
Don’t send me no more letters no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row