just call me lucky #3

a.
they are standing still, waiting
pour their coffees onto the floor
the monkey claps his hands
they bring him a tray of excuses
he picks out the sweetest one
and bites into it
pentrating every corner

I am running down the road
my heels drag like petroleum
I vanish like the unborn
repeating the image, the existence
this has never been found
every sadness of before
old dumb moon

specks of dust
hidden paths crossing
all I own horizon
matter and energy
pondering the elevator
my last kiss
eternal footsteps
plexiglass faces
the traffic moving up and down
transformed into another


face of pain
escaped elevator
at the trolley tracks
we visit the innocent in the whorehouses
with a gothic phallus
smoking the gloom
we are all dead
they stack us up next to the bus stop
making waves, I scoop them into my hands
endless variations at the depths


no song for the piano
20 years of love for the junk man
boiling supper chicken
back from the four walls
eyeing the fates
three tricks for the gangsters
a sudden attack against your soul
out to the push and pull
of my belly aginst the void
I made the monster here
I filled it with music
and the screams of the dark seas


god living at the chicken farm
she would holler way after dark
one hundred dollar beaver
cold fish and raw cabbage
purple veins on her legs
her hands would smell of madness
it would color her eyes
with idealism
it was not mine, I had to borrow it
bring it home in a brown paper bag
fed it little by little to the chickens
they were getting high in the windows
watching the sun go down


b.
gone so strangely into the army
nursing my broken heart
we were always on the plot
my soul strarves
escaping the fatal
you were taking orders
from the spies in the front booth
secret police darkness
all those politics

I was a fool with an ache
half undressed and screaming at the televison
they don't understand
staring into my eyes
you said that you felt betrayed
by all of your broken things
newspaper clippings to prove your honesty
one beat at a time
a scar on your head

there is a peace to your eternity
awaiting your specter
raising the ceiling
against the white bathroom walls
she is not a bad girl
though she dwells in the shadow
drinking cheap sodas in her sundress
the crash of wars
rammed down her back
at the window, is her image

farewell, black shoe
reborn to death
million eyes
looking at nothing
being doomed
bloody skull
these are not answers,
only more questions
turned over raw
tired spansish ladies
listening to Jethro Tull

it was all cat crosses
she looks up and says meow
drinking in the chaos that is pure America
a blue bottle and a huge rock
the cop around the corner
he was mailing his love letters again
fried bologna and dill pickles
the cheese slicer lays on the floor
with dead arms, they don't feel
an old shave needing a face

we salute you Seraphim
flowers and communists
you saw the dust clouds growing
a fuck in the battlefield
there is no good and evil
you said, "relative," with a snicker on your face
like you had seen it all before
and still chose to live in chains
making magic prayers in the basement
prayers for goiters and arthritus
prayers for god's little whores