poems

Golgotha

Midnight in Golgotha--
The desert echoes ancient cries
Of dying men in torment
On the plain where Jesus died

He took the wine upon his tongue
Its taste was harsh but sweet
His captors laughed and taunted him
His blood trickled at his feet

He did not cry in sorrow,
Or frown with deep disdain,
But asked God to forgive them,
And swore to rise again.

Now growing in the desert
Where blood once stained the sand
A single flower blossoms
And proclaims the Son of Man.

Morning in Golgotha--
The desert echoes ancient cries
Of living men in prayer,
Who know that God's alive.

Greener Times

Into the kitchen I trounced,
smelling fresh green mint
Boiled over in the afternoon tea.

I reminisce...
aromatic images...
quiet green remembrances...

dirt beneath my fingernails
grass stains on my knees
quiet time to water thoughts
and taste them in the leaves...

this garden here is worn and pale,
shriveled, wilted, dry
the dirt is dust
the grass is brown
the water doesn't flow
there is no loving gardener here
there's nothing left to grow.

yet at the kitchen table
at a quarter after three
I sit and think
and reminisce
and smell that fresh mint tea.

It calls me back to greener times
and warmer thoughts
It turns my fingernail lint into garden ground
and makes my knees itch with grass stains
and my nostrils quiver for pollinated air.
It calls me home to my roots.
I have a gardener's soul.

© Thursday, June 3, 1993
12:40 p.m.
@Redfern Health Center, Clemson University, Clemson SC
From my office, I could smell mint from a dish being prepared in the kitchen.

High Culture for the Poor Drunk College Boy

Smoke your cigar, boy
Drink your beer
Now we're all hip and shit.

Don't you look distinguished
with that flaming six-inch
dick in your mouth?

High culture for
the poor drunk college boy

The player piano starts playing
"New York, New York"
above the banter.
All is well in the land of the cool,
As long as you've got your credit card.

Imported black beer,
bourbon on the rocks
and Jazz.
I think I'll pretend
I'm in the Big Easy now.

Where the Hell is the Dixie Beer?
And the crazy voodoo chicks?
And the New Orleans soul?

Sorry, that's $50 extra.
But we don't take American Express.

If Life is But a Question

In a world aflower with ideas lost
I've come to sit and ponder--
The spinning colors--infinity--
A world, and yet I wonder--
If life is but a question--
If time is but a flight--
I'll sit and wonder--
Sit and wait--
For eternal night.

It Was Swell Until I Died

Yesterday I fought a war
In a foreign land.
It was swell until I died.
The stench of rotting bodies
Blew in the breeze
Between my toes,
And I cried
As bullets shattered
my brace-straightened teeth,
ruining five years of dental work.
My mom would freak
If she saw me now,
But the orthodontist would
Make a new retainer.
I hope a camel doesn't eat me.
The sand is hot and scratchy.
Send more cookies.
Your son,
Aloysius

Jehovah Man

Hey there, Jahovah Man,
Standing at my door,
Why don't you leave my home,
So I can sin in peace?
You owe me that, at least.
Don't tell me proverbs,
Or kneel in prayer.
Why can't you just go down my stairs?
Don't tell me about Jehovah,
Don't talk to me of God,
I've no use for men who never lived
Or are buried in the sod.
I see the truth,
But I deride it.
I know the lie.
Yes, I provide it.
Don't try to leave your faithful tract.
Just get off my lawn,
And don't come back!

©May 21, 1992
2:05 p.m.

Liquid Madness

I know the truth--
But I hate it/
It's not pleasant.
I don't like it.
--And I won't have it
in my house, young man!
You just take that liquid madness
and don't come back--
not until your eyes are clear
instead of flowing red,
not until you can make it
up those steps alone!
Stand still, boy, I'm talking to you--
This here's a living room floor,
not a goddamn roller-coaster!
Now go sleep in the yard,
or under the Smith's Studebaker--
Tomorrow's garbage day
and it doesn't look like
anyone else is going to pick you up.
So get going--
and take your nightmares
with you
and your truth.
I hate it.
It's not pleasant,
and I won't have it
In my house.

©November 15, 1990

Listening to the Pogues on a Lazy Saturday

Listening to the Pogues
On a Lazy Saturday,
I try to leak my mind
on paper
with a pen in hand
and an ear open
to hear "Rain Street"
and the song changes to
Some other bluesy drunken ode,
and I think of Elvis, naked,
alone, drugged up and wanting
a peanut butter sandwich
I dance an Irish jig
in my mind an
wail obscenities at nothing

I dream of ale
And salt air nights
on songs of drunken irreverie
and sex, and blonde-haired women,
dusty roads, brown-skinned children
with no shoes, trains, trolleys and buses,
mountains, images, hiking, Kerouac,
Sonny Boy Williamson and the blues
I think of bop kaballa and wonder
What it really means to a beer-drinking,
Elvis-loving, semi-beatnik
Alternative X'er.
But that which is known,
lost, unrelenting, effervescen, and cool
Such is sitting alone on a Saturday afternoon.

Lost Cost

Where are the feelings you've lost, my dear?
Where are the memories you've lost?
Where are they?
Why?
And who's paid the cost?
Ask me no questions,
Tell me no lies
The truth is lost in your dark eyes
I see it there.
You hid it--
But it won't ever leave
And though I know you're lying
I won't ever be deceived.
Where are the feelings I've lost, my dear?
They're hidden with your love.
Lost forever--
Gone from view--
In Hell, and not above.

Love is Not Made, But Earned

I want to see the moon-swept beaches
and the Autumn mountains
I want to kiss the grey winter sky
and touch the harvest moon.
--Only take my hand, and I'll be there with you.
I'll give you my summer stillness
and my cold, grey Autumn nights--
To only kiss your lips again
would be a great delight.
And in this winter stillness
I hear the darkness call.
I call your name, it echoes back--
there's nothing there at all.
And yet I wonder lately
if you were ever there.
If ever I did kiss your lips,
or stroke your blackened hair.
I scream into the silence
and it echoes in return--
I know it, but deny it--
Love is not made, but earned.
In my darkened chambers
I lay down in fitful sleep
And the bells outside toll midnight--
Then I begin to weep.
And I wait in silent sorrow,
for the dawning of the sun,
As one more painful yesterday
a tomorrow will become.

Madness Breeds Insanity

madness breeds insanity
like puppies
it takes a long look at itself
and multiplies
like bacteria
skidding the mirrored glass
through the water
on a petri dish
madness is like scrambled eggs
it's hard to describe
as a whole of one thing
until it's so jumbled up
that it's really something else
different and delightful
fluffy and tasty
but it can still make you sick

Me-Beast

I can see straight through you
I know what you are
It is only your lack of insight
That keeps you from doing the same
If you tried to understand me,
You'd know I'm not a man.
If you looked deep down inside me
You'd see what I truly am.
I am an animal,
I am a beast.
I lack your compassion,
I look only to feast.
I dwell in dark chambers,
cornered and cold.
I can't die,
I am ageless,
I can never grow old.
I look deep inside you.
I've taken my toll--
I crept down beside you,
I've eaten your soul.
Don't look to stop me.
You don't understand.
You can't look inside me.
I'm a beast,
Not a man.

Messiah

Bring your money
Leave it here
I'm the one to save you.

Wear white robes
Bring your kids
In the pasture,
Dig your grave here

God is coming,
Don't doubt my word.
I'm the messiah.
Haven't you heard?

Bring your money,
Bring your car,
We'll drive to Heaven.
(It's not that far.)

I'm the messiah,
I swear it.

Mosaic

My life was painted backward in the sand,
A twisted lost mosaic stopped in time,
Washed away into the nothingness

Needy Girl

Oh, needy girl
I see you there
With wanting eyes
And Dark brown hair
You slosh your beer
and sit and stare
Wondering why your life's not fair

He won't come back
He's gone away
But yet you sit and linger
Twirling yellow swirling beer
with your index finger,

Don't you have a life to live?
And better things to do?
Won't you ever get a clue?
He's got no use for you.

Now while you sit
And wish away
your best years and days
He's on the other side of town
learning to slip away
from your clutches.

And while you lack,
He's found a life
Without you, dear
And he's not coming back.

©March 11, 1993
Written about a friend who couldn't get over another friend,
And inspired by seeing this very scene too many times at
Edgar's Pub in the Student Union, Clemson University, Clemson, SC

No point in being sane

There's no point in being sane
It;'s such a drain upon the brain
There's no point in being sane
There's no damn point at all.

Oedipus

There she sat upon my bed,
and watched my eyes all flow with red,
as I dripped blood upon the carpet as I wept.

I wish and wonder for the day
When I shall no longer see
The world in all its gory glory.

I'll sit and wait here for that day.
There's nothing to see here, anyway.

Rain Time

I've seen the pools
the rain makes
and the ripples of time.

Nothing stands beside,
Or needs to.

Revolution

Black-shirt traveler I
Eat Cracker Barrel
country-fried steak
and hashbrown casserole
Sweet April with a lisp
my sunny, biscuit-dropping
in the lap waitress.

I think to stand
and simply say
"Revolution," as if
it hadn't already happened.

Blonde-haired country
ruffle-shorts-wearing girl
gets up from the far
table,
T-shirt reading
"Speed kills.
But going slow doesn't
Do it for me,
either."
All 14 years of her
Gather up a baby.

Passing out, the country
door cowbell doesn't ring.
Clapper-less scrap.

By the rocking chairs,
glancing at country-ruffle girl
and her moppet,
rocking in the souvenir chairs,
staring blankly at the windows
reflecting her soul.

I saddle up my
silver Ranger and
click on the tape.
Strains of "Lonesome Fugitive,"
highway song.
"I'm on the road,
the highway is my home."

To think I shortly
thought to stand
and simply say
"Revolution,"
Though it always began.

Rock/Fish

if I were a rock,
i'd be a blue rock,
and I'd sit on the jungle floor
and glow in the moonlight.

if I were a fish,
i'd be on a hook,
dangling from a fisherman's pole.

and, if i were you,
i'd wonder what the hell
i was just talking about.