Love Thine Enemy
Love thine enemy
But hate their lack of sincerity
Love thine enemy
I found this quote in a book and I thought of you
So I walked me out like a moth in the morning dew
And a million cigarettes later the quote reappeared
Now nothing about my love could be called insincere
Love thine enemy
But hate their lack of sincerity
Love thine enemy
Every idiot thing you say speaks of Pain and Truth
Because of the beautiful way your tongue can seduce
What’s behind the mountain is a mystery
That’s why after the quote I added: Sincerity
Love thine enemy
But hate their lack of sincerity
Love thine enemy
He tried to come between us like a purple ghoul
Hypocrites especially practice the golden rule
I love what you say though sometimes it’s mean
Without earthworms how else would the soil keep clean?
Love thine enemy
But hate their lack of sincerity
Love tine enemy
The Living Word
The Word came first
In the Beginning, came the Word
Words can hurt
Let me speak the Living Word
Rolling thumbs; enough for the wise
Each desperate blockhead dares to write
A voice in the ditch
received in cold English
Go ahead, make a wish
The Word came first
In the Beginning, came the Word
Words can hurt
Let me speak the Living Word
Lao Tzu replied Confucius as a myriad being:
“How could this be unknowing?”
This must be the Event
Albert’s philosopher meant
NOW YOU SEND
The Word came first
In the Beginning, came the Word
Words can hurt
Let me speak the Living Word
LRH met Ho Chi Minh in Paris, 1939
Not that it matters the names, the place, or time
Alive in the root
The black swan of the brood
Traveling faster and traveling mute
The Word came first
In the Beginning, came the Word
Words can hurt
Let me speak the Living Word
Living order; enough for the lies
Only the Immortal demand their rights
Returning to pen
Returning to when
the page was white and the Word guided men
The Word came first
In the Beginning, came the Word
Words can hurt
Let me speak the Living Word
The Same Thing
Like a ring gone down the drain
Our love in sunlight, at evening, pain
Like vermin Roman sewers bring
Pain and Love, oh yeah, are The Same Thing
are The Same Thing…
In my opinion, we are the red birth mark
from the old storybook, “Equal Light, Equal Dark”
Now let’s flip a coin to see now who’s yin and who is yang
It defies opinion whether they’re The Same Thang
Nothing in common; our blood, thicker than broth
We’re cut from different sides of the same cloth
Our love in sunlight, our pain at evening
have nothing in common, yet they’re both The Same Thing
The same street, the same address
The same white hair, the same black dress
The same sameness from opposites cling
Pain and Love, oh yeah, are The Same Thing
are The Same Thing…
In my opinion, a line is never crossed
Until now, I was my inner feelings were always lost
Through spirit or season, does the human voice does sing?
Death and opinion they are The Same Thing
Nothing in common; our blood, thicker than broth
We’re cut from different sides of the same cloth
Our love in sunlight, our pain at evening
have nothing in common, yet they’re both The Same Thing
To Every Man His Chimera
Not you again, I thought you died
I thought you were killed on your wedding night
Not you again, hypocrite
You’ve come to ask me to kill you again, is that it?
Not you again, I’m no fool twice
I’ve heard the wolf tracking in the ice
Peel off the latex, fair-weather friend
Is that supposed to be a nose? No, not you again
Oh, Mary
Don’t weep down on me
“I don’t need a host to live”
Oh, Mary
I’m just too much to carry
Mary
Not you again, my grandmother’s Lord
Another friend like that, I can’t afford
California makes me sick
Like trying with a rattlesnake your teeth to pick
Everyone I know gossips endlessly
Everyone I know suffers just like me
Have you come back for your saddle, to squat like a hen?
Why are you even here? Not you again
Oh, Mary
Don’t weep down on me
“I don’t need a host to live”
Oh, Mary
I’m just too much to carry
Mary
The wind knocked down the chicken coop
The cat left a rat’s carcass on my front stoop
Once again, I’ve been seduced
Now it looks like my chickens have come home to roost
Robin Egg Blue
By all accounts, accounts it’s true
Not that it matters much, much to the Blue
To the Blue, to the Blue
Heather Burns went, went to the field
To gather robin’s eggs, eggs for her meal
For her meal, for her meal
Walking, she thought about
A coward, years ago
“Saint Jude, when will I learn?”
A snake side-winded
across her broken path
But Heather knew better and thought:
“What is done is done, what’s done is done”
By all accounts, accounts it’s fine
“One egg for Saint Jude, one egg is mine,
one is mine, one is mine”
She saw a nest, nest in an elm
Not-so high, yet another realm
Another realm, another realm
Reaching up, she felt
Two eggs with her fingers
And lightly picked them out
And lowering, one fell down
“One for Jude!”, the snake said
But Heather knew better and thought:
“What is done is done, what’s done is done”
“Can’t we raise the Dead anew?
Call me Robin Egg Blue”
By all accounts, accounts it’s through
Not that it matters much to Robin Egg Blue
Robin Egg Blue, Robin Egg Blue
The snake followed her home
Along the broken path
The field needed to be burned
Inside, she set the egg down
“Should I not have been hungry?”
But Heather knew better and thought:
“What is done is done, what’s done is done”
Mystery Mail
Mystery Mail
It read: “I hope this finds you well”
To no avail
You tipped the scale
Now I’ll see you in Hell
Sailing over this story’s arc
A cardboard box that missed its mark
Like a comet seen at dusk
Like the Mayan twins born of the husk
We were raised and flew at the very same height
But fell individually from our flight
I knew Daniel since high school in Benicia
He sold cookies from his parents’ freezer
But were we ever really ever close?
Now Daniel’s gone and I’m his ghost
He went north and I went east
We had a plan- or an idea, at least
From his cousin’s lab in Crescent City
Daniel packaged two pounds for speedy delivery
USPS to Greenpoint, Brooklyn
Every gram sold while his cousin kept cooking
Successfully, this went on
For, oh, I don’t know how long
One day I turned the corner onto India St.
I must have turned white as a sheet
Three policemen were standing on my stoop
Talking to my girlfriend, Betty Boop
I turned around never to see Betty again
I’m sorry, Betty, I hope you understand
I assumed they got to Daniel first
In this line of work you come to expect the worse
Some time later, the smirk was wiped from my smile
I was arrested for hopping a turnstile
Bones had told the warrant cleared after eight years
So, naturally, on my court date I failed to appear
Eventually, the cardboard comet had to fall
I took a walk down the long hall
The first thing I did from my cell
Was write a letter in search of Daniel
Daniel was indeed inside the lion’s den
Not the only Lionkiller in a California State Penn.
Daniel wrote me back in a matter of days
No mention of whether or not crime pays
He wrote: “You wouldn’t recognize my anymore”
“I bet you’d rather be back cleaning toilets in Baltimore”
“I’ll never make it out of this cell”
“I guess the next time I see you will be in Hell”
The letters stopped rolling in
I heard Daniel was stabbed with a ballpoint pen
About sixty times by his cellmate, Charles
Now people talk about immortalizing him in marble
Not everybody should be made a saint
Daniel was good guy, but a saint he ‘aint
Mystery Mail
It read: “I hope this finds you well”
To no avail
You tipped the scale
Now I’ll see you in Hell
Meet Me At The Mannequin Gallery
The Secretary
Said the prices vary
To cast in one’s image
So I made the pilgrimage
She told me a story
About the Model Lady
Whose features were subtle
She wanted her own model
The story continued
The Secretary enthused
How making the Model’s model
Gave her staff trouble:
“You see, she had no features
Her face was smooth and clear
So it was very difficult
To sculpt an accurate result”
“But that is why we
Think some people have Beauty”
Said the Secretary
“At least this is my theory”
“Because they are featureless
Anyway, it caused us some stress
And we charged her according
To the time that was put in”
Then I wandered the warehouse
Among hundreds of models
And fiberglass aroma
Out there in Pacoima
Mariah (Sketch)
Mariah is aware
That most cabs won’t go down there
Brimming with desire
Mariah
Eager, burning tears
From thirty-thousand years
Welling up inside her
Mariah
Mariah
Standing next to the fire
Praying it never tires
Oh, Mariah
Out of flame, into flight
How I wish to reach that height!
Sweet bird, take me higher
Mariah