Still Waiting for Approval

There was the animal scent of protection like a skunk’s protection
As you wear your new face

Your new face, your own real face
A face you had discovered as you

You found it on a bonfire built by the fatherland
You grabbed it out of the flames and put it on

I shook like a mountain when I met you
You were a little man in a humble room

Was I the skunk, it may well be?
I was the skunk and you were the schizophrenic

And we were equalized, but I didn’t want a face
I hate mirrors that mirror my own face

I am a non-face; I am afraid of me

Fire and water are oceans
They are two oceans in one body

I see a hand reaching into them
White like quartz glowing like the light on snow

We are the two personalities of ourselves
We are brothers in the same mind

I am a saucer shape of quiet waters flying in the sky
You are the sky of a distant world

I can identify with you because
I have no personality and you have more than one

To David Kessel, poet

If you don’t want to be middle class

If you don’t want to be middle class
What can you be?

There’s no other path
There’s no other road

You can give away your money
Or you can become middle class

The middle class have their territory
They can annex the land they want

They can put the working class behind a concrete wall
That stretches across the land

The middle-class leader will do this
To protect his golden calf

What do you do if you don’t want to be middle class
Where can you go?

Can you wander the land in sackcloth and ashes?
Like a prophet with something to say

To do this is to risk your life
To do this is to be resented

What can you do, where can you go
Is there anywhere – a classless society

You can always tell a middle-class doctor

You can always tell a middle-class doctor
From the way he straightens his tie

They have a calling – some to be doctors some to be priests
Some to be lawyers, some to be generals

It begins as a noble cause
It all begins with a desire to do good

Until the eagles come with iron bars in their claws
And start dropping them all around their houses

All night long,
They listen to the clanging iron bars as they hit the floor

They can be the most innocent of people
But when faced with the working class

They become introspect; they step back
They follow the unwritten rules of class

Thank you, doctor, thank you, priest
Thank you, lawyer, thank you general

The Wooden Fences

It’s hard to follow the narrative
When everyone talks at once

Counting the uprights of the wooden fence
Every slat talking at once

Slat, slat, we’re all slats in a wooden fence
Talking at once

Talking to a policeman
Talking to a doctor

Talking to God’s replacements
– The system produced gods

As they trample the ground
And test the wooden fence for defects

A hewn wooden parade of slats with pointed heads
In winter and in spring they stand together

As their owners sit in their gardens
as they capture live ones and turn them into new wooden fences

It is hard to follow the narrative
Of our wooden mouths, all talking at once

The disharmonic chatter
On many levels of the mind scale

We are the wooden fences of society
We are the human barriers for the echelons

A cherub lands in the garden
He listens to the narrative of the talking fence

He has the four faces of the spiritual
He is looking North and South, East and West

He is gone back to where he came from
Back to join the protective force in the sky

Hey, grain man

Hey, grain man
Can it be
You have some
Grain for me
If I grind it
With a stone
I will never
Be alone

Hey grain man
Here I stand
Weights and measures
In my hand
To make the meal
Of justice white
To make the flour
Of love shine bright

Hey grain man
Save for me
Grains of love
And when I’m poor
And hungry too
I’ll mill the grain
That’s what I’ll do

Hey grain man
In the sky
Give me bread
Before I die
Let me rest
Can I be free
Can I have
The love I need

Sometimes I can’t believe

Sometimes I can’t believe
Ow free I am
I would cry for the day
And here I am
Sometimes my freedom seems
Like endless and
I just can’t believe
How free I am

Sometimes I can’t believe
How free I am
That I can wake up
Unchained from evil man
To say to myself, well
Here I am
I just can’t believe
How free I am

I am not a danger

I am not a danger
To children
Children
Are a danger to me
They have the key

I am not a danger to women
Women
Are a danger to me
They have the key

I am not a danger
To men
Men
Are a danger to me
They have the key

I am not a danger
To anyone
I am free

I am not a danger
To soldier
Soldiers
Are a danger to me
They have the key

I am not a danger
To police
Police are a danger to me
They have the key

I am not a danger
To security
Security
Is a danger to me
It has the key

I am not a danger
To anyone
I am free

You will twist the past

You will twist the past,
The present and the future
Into one sweet lump.
You will make them all into one
Walking free into anything
And death will flee.

You will remember every sky from every world
And every sea from every love
You will hold them like an eternal bird
With a mountain in its breast
And death will flee

You will love like no one ever loved before
In drowning times of pleasure
And shadows will be forevermore
And death will flee

Hiding the Blame

An inner voice
An inner lawman
“They made me do it”

The inner law
Is a real shadow
In the blood-red moon

To an inner guide
He’s obedient and wise
But it makes him cry inside

It snaps the chains
It cuts the cords
Of his accord

His agreement is lost
He doesn’t agree
With himself

But he tries
To please the lawman
That talks

Through his mouth
Pouring out his shredded memories
Of boyhood photo dreams

He didn’t mean to
It was half a dream
And half of a back door

Into the relics
Of his humanity
His lawful
Legal humanity
Compressed
Into someone else’s vanity

Recycled
By someone else’s
Heavy-handed law

Well
Just explore
Tip out

His puzzle
Onto the floor

Half of the pieces
Are yours
One more step
And I would break
Oh my axeman father

One more pavement slab
Closer
And I would become

A solution
In your gun

One more
Robot step
Forward

One more
Raygun blast
Of your hate

And you could use me
As paste

One more
Step forward
Into

Your sons
No-man’s land
And

You will
No longer
Be a man
The shellfire
Fell for years

Upon the disc
Of my
Darkened sun

How long is war
How long is childhood

The partisan
In the family

Hid in shadows
Moved careful
Through the hate

As real
As death
As weak as breath

If I hold my
Breath
Long enough

He will leave
I will die

The heavy guns
Will cease
Like a new year’s eve

Of any day
Of the ammunition’s
Ceasefire

My will and my blood
Are on fire
Are my attire

In the extravagance
Of fathers war
He tore up
The page
Of my days

But I named
Each piece
With a word

Absurd
I needed a grid
System

I needed
The impossible

Look close
At the dustpan
Do you see?

A few paper pieces
Of me
I would go out
And search for help
I was the scout

And the wagon train
Was
Caught in the rain

Social workers in war paint
Psychiatrist
Hiding in the streets

My wagon wheels
Were rolling
Towards love

I would go out
And run about
From tree to tree

Mad birds
Would follow me

I’d pick holes
In the sky
I’d try

To die
In a tramps
Old coat

I would go out
I would become
Tall grass
The sun
Would blast
On my
Cratered moon
My brow
Would swelter
Melting my
Brain
Insane boy
Joy
I can never leave
Those days behind

People are unkind
They act
Like him

The continents collide
Inside
Volcanoes rise

The bad times
Resurface
The good times

Slide
Beneath

The inner tide
Un-rhymed

Can happiness
Rhyme
Will unhappiness die?
The child part of me
Is like a criminal
Running from my dad’s back hand

The landslide of his
Disguise
His sainthood of blood and mud

His war throne
Where he sat alone
Where white bats
With wings of fire

Left their carrion
On the wire

The childhood part of me
Is the criminal
The unreal is real

The dungeon
Where the nightmare
Thrives
Is where he put me

As he
Ate the tops of snow-covered mountains
His feet dragged thru the slime

And if he knew
The way I felt
He’d resign

Forgiveness comes
When the fire
Has burnt out

How many fires
Were burning
In the night

When at last
I can kick at the ashes and say
It’s over

When will that day come
Will it ever?

My angry fire
May die
But other fires
May last forever

I’m thinking of my mom
She got hurt more
Than anyone

Especially
On the day
He killed her