Fourth of July
Poem
stepped on, pissed
on
cheated and abused
taken advantage of
blue collar man caught up
in the American scam
don’t tell me anyone
can be anything they want to be
if they put their minds to it
bullshit crap laid on like butter
on the working class stiff
save your message for the
deaf dumb and blind
it’ll never sell in the ghetto
or to the immigrants you have
turned your back on
high-fiving, jiving court jester
with an act as old as death
out of step
reeking from bad breath
take your message to the church
tell it to the men on death row
tell it to the starving poor
tell it to the sick and lame
tell it to the rich folks
tell it to the politicians
tell it to the serial killers
tell it to wall street
tell it to the man on the gallows
tell it to the cowardly terrorists
tell it to the last man at the Alamo
tell it to the chiseled faces
on Mount Rushmore
tell it to Madonna
tell it to the street whore
tell it to the last wino on the Bowery
tell it to the banker
tell it to the butcher
tell it to the unemployed
tell it to the circus clown
tell it to the insane
tell it to the outlaw
tell it to the in-laws
tell it to the panhandler
tell it to the conman
tell it to the baby found
stuffed in a garbage can
tell it to the displaced factory worker
tell it to the elderly
tell it to the re-po man
tell it to the academics
tell it to the last space alien
hiding out in Roswell
tell it to the militia
tell it to the FBI sharpshooters
at Ruby Ridge
tell it to the arsonists at Waco, Texas
tell it to the junkie with dry heaves
tell it to the farm worker
tell it to the dishwasher
tell it to the orderlies
tell it to the flag waver
tell it to the Chinese peasant
working the rice fields
for a dollar a day
tell it to the garment worker
slaving away in sweat shops
in Chinatown and the Latin Quarter
tell it to the garbage man
tell it to corporate America selling
torture devises to enslaved nations
tell it to big business
tell it to the illegitimate President
tell it to the oil barons
tell it to the tobacco merchants
tell it to the children addicted
to television
tell it to the fur industry
who club baby seals to death
for the clothing merchants
with blood on their hands
tell it to the molested children
tell it to the battered wives of America
tell it to the pharmacy industry
dispensing billions of dollars
of drugs each year
tell it to the millions of people dying
from air pollution in Mexico and abroad
tell it to the man on his death bed
not sure why he lived
or what he is dying for
tell it to Jesus Christ
shout it to the stars
line the traitors up against the wall
rewrite the ten commandments
and start all over again
The Demise of
Jazz in North Beach
no cool cats in
North Beach anymore
no cool cats blowing the horn
no jazz at the old Purple Onion
no be-bop snapping fingers
no fallen angels spreading their legs
on the way home after a conversation
with God
no black cats improvising the blues
no white dudes riding the midnight express
no stoned soul train musicians blowing
mean clean notes crucified suffocating
in the smoking mirror of their minds
gone buried in the decadence
of collective madness
from Marking
Time
For Jill
Curtains stir from
the wind
Like an unseen ghost rolling
It's way through the crack
In the window
On the well carpeted floor
Your slip delicate as a freshly
Plucked flower
from Marking
Time
