*******       ***********

Lament For A Quarrel With A Friend

 

Sorry to be so cheeky, 

and full of hyperbole.

I was feeling kind of tweaky,

and the verbage,

got away from me.

  

Didn’t mean to peck you  with my beaky.

Didn’t mean  to act so freaky. 

 

When you speak  with the geek,

your advice he will seek.

Let’s patch it up  before it leaks! 

  

My mind has gone  a wee bit creaky,

what with me  normally, quite meek.

I went and slapped  you on the cheek,

So full of piss  and mental reek. 

 

Sorry to be so piquey,

and full of hyperbole.

I was feeling kind of tweaky,

and the verbage  got away from me.

 

*******       ***********

 

For The Living

 

So why then my friend

did you choose your end?

Now it is we who are drowning in sorrow.

 

And you fly like a bird,

while we struggle for words,

that will bring us to love,

and tomorrow.

 

Were your colors so bright

lost in the night?

Did your melody play

with no harmony?

 

And the thorns of your rose

were too sharp, I suppose…

 

Was your lover really that far away?

 

It was your gift,

to do with as you pleased.

You gave the gift away,

for that gift you didn’t need.

 

Thank you for your kindness.

Kindness was all I ever knew from you.

I forgive you,

You couldn’t see,

the light so bright had blinded you.

 

Now, you sail away.

Slipping past the shore,

as you fade away,

to the place of evermore.

 

Good and bad,

happy and sad,

tears of joy and sorrow.

Remember when?

We’ll be there then.

 

Today remains tomorrow.

 

And yesterday

has gone away.

And so have you my friend.

 

For the living chose the miracle,

and the miracle never ends.

Go away now, my friend.

For the living chose the miracle,

and the miracle never ends.

 

***********       *******

Eggs


Why eat the dregs of eggs

from solitary confinement chickens

living in a cell on a prison farm?

 

Jail birds, without a free life,

packed in like slaves,

breathing ammonia fumes,

to give us a dozen for a dollar

of their precious gems,

embryos, oval eggs.

 

Forced to eat

genetically mutilated

soybeans and corn,

then recapitulate,

for our sake,

their selves,

through their eggs.

Why eat the dregs of eggs?

 

You are what you eat,

from roots, leaves, fins or feet.

We sacrifice other life

so we can meet our needs.

 

At least thank the chicken!

And when she’s away,

looking for bugs,

then steal her eggs,

and say thanks for the nugs!

 

Then thank her again

when you eat free range eggs.

Because the factory farm food

is made with the dregs.

 

Thank all that sustains you,

and therefore befriends you.

 

The crops, the beasts,

the roosters and hens.

For us, well do

the good birds attend,

Bless the chickens!

 

Molted feathers

with plenty of poop,

fertilizer factory

in the chicken coop.

 

Bug patrol.

Garden clean up crew.

Pillow stuffing.

They swim in the stew.

 

Boiled eggs.

Barbeque

Thighs and legs,

fried up too.

 

Asian Dim Sum,

flavored feet.

Breasts and wings,

so good to eat.

 

Bless the Chickens!

Thank the Eggs!

With reverence,

and forgiveness begged.

 

 “nugs” = nuggets

 

 

***********

 

 

Mary Jane

 

So tired of deciding

if you’ve come of if you’ve gone.

So tired of denying

that nothing has been wrong.

 

Oh Mary Jane, what has this come to?

Can you be what’s wrong with me?

Mary Jane, I am forsaken. 

Won’t you please just let me be.

 

When I wake up in the morning,

my head is filled with sleep.

You know I can’t ignore,

the company you keep.

 

I know can be better.

I know I can refrain.

But you know, for worse or better,

I love you, Mary Jane.

 

I’ve had days or two without you;

even months have passed me by.

Moments I’m without you,

you’re my only alibi.

 

Do you remember when we started?

We had a lot to gain.

All the losses imparted, still, hey,

here’s to you Mary Jane.

 

Breathing deep your hazy vapor,

when you’re swirling around my brain.

I touch the sky, and fly to heaven,

sailing away with Mary Jane.

 

When I’m cut, crying, bleeding,

life gets dark as hell’s terrain,

you take away the ghosts that haunt me,

though you’ve got your price, hey Mary Jane.                               

 

 

Could there be a call to glory

for the timid or the meek?

Could there be a song or story,

if we never dared to speak?

 

Oh, Mary Jane, what have you cost me?

Is there truth within the pain?

All I know is I lost me,

when I found you,

Mary Jane.

 

 

***********

 

Dead Man’s Beer                  

 

I stole a dead man's beer

from the roadside memorial

from behind the flowers

where his friend had left it.

 

I sipped the bubbles slowly;

warm, but wet, and comforting.

I drank them all sitting here.

”In Heaven there is no beer.”

 

I toast the dearly departed dead man

killed by a drug crazed woman

speeding through town at dawn

after a long night on methamphetemine.

 

He never saw it coming, run down on his bike.

Now we all are bumming

Because another jerk

has stolen a mother's son, then took off on the run.

 

I toast the dead man's mother,

father, sister, brother,

I toast all his relations

for the loss to our nation.

 

I toast the brewer and the barley,

the loser thief, and the beautiful blooming weeds.

Cheers! to the hops and fermentative friends.

I toast my dead host the most.

Cheers! to my drunken friends.

 

”Everyone speaks of my drinking,

no one speaks of my thirst.”

I toast my dead host the most.

 

I stole a dead man's beer from the roadside memorial,

grateful to his friends who left it there.

For beer is dear, and flowers give less comfort

when you are drowning in sorrow.

 

I drank them all sitting here.

”In Heaven there is no beer.”

I toast my dead host the most.

”In Heaven there is no beer.”

 

***********       *******

 

Fathers Bad Dream

 

Surely there are no demons larger

than the triplet bastards

anger, fear and paranoia.

 

Beget on a bed of rage.

Gestated in insomnia.

Nurtured in tortuousness.

 

Voraciously eating their father’s mind,

dementia sets in.

"They are coming to get us!".

 

"Sic 'em Boys".

"Sic 'em", you poor, cold, breathless,

phantom-destroyed boys.

 

***********       *******

 

 

 

 

Geeks Gather and Gawk      

 

Geeks Gather and Gawk, at the new gadget.

Last year’s model dead and gone.

More than sad, it’s tragic.

 

Marvel and wonder, a new one appears.

The fools are amazed at the magic!

 

Haste makes waste, then it’s wasted in haste,

to market the new, the better, the best

the old one must perish, and be laid to rest.

 

Planned obsolescence, I’ll make the case,

is rooted in ruin, because it is wasted in haste.

 

Grant me a standard, made well, lasting longer than I.

Than things laid to waste in the wink of an eye.

 

Don’t buy a sucker’s ploy, to purchase evermore

a disposable, out-dateable, non-updateable toy.

 

That which remains is resilient, true.

That which fades is ephemeral too.

 

Squander, Greed, Obesity, Profit-Lust

Corpulent Corporations lay waste to the earth,

selling waste to us.

 

Planned obsolescence, I’ll make the case,

is rooted in ruin, because it is wasted in haste.

 

Geeks gather and gawk, at the new gadget.

Last year’s model dead and gone.

More than sad, it’s tragic.

 

Marvel and wonder, a new one appears.

And the fools are amazed at the magic!

 

 

*******       ***********

 

When I Was Born in 1957 

 

When I was born in troubled times

my father was off to fight in the war.

My mother was young, and alone,

in the cold sterile military hospital

with doctors admiring her anatomy,

and nurses at once compassionate,

and detached, in their duties.

 

I was held upside down directly

upon my entrance to this realm

from the blissful floating void.

Cathartic indeed,

robbed of my eternal dream illusion

that I was the only fish in her sea,

caressed so lovingly,

while my father was out to sea.

 

Tongs squeezed my head

so they could tug me into the world,

slapped on the buttocks,

slime sucked from my nose and throat.

 

Then the vicious cut

to remove the end of my penis

to remind me directly

that the world is a painful place,

and without any indication,

or instruction,

that only humans made it so,

and that that was the case.

 

No milk was offered to me,

just industrial colostrum,

perhaps to prime me to be able

to digest the unnatural substrate

that I would be compelled

to take for sustenance,

synthetic processed frankenfood,

en lieu of natural substance.

 

When my mother cried,

 to relieve her breast

they replied: “That’s only for poor women,

the formula is best”, they did attest.

 

Is it any wonder then

that I am scared of Doctor’s?

Blood pressure rises every time I must consult

With their presumptuous wisdom of the ages

and condescension to my condition,

without real regard for my person.

 

The doctor needs a proctor,

Any so too does the world.

I find myself born in troubled times

within a peaceful world.

 

*******       ***********

 

When The Chips Are Down         

 

When the chips are down,

buy another round,

 

another round,

another round,

 

and round and round,

until you drown,

 

when the chips are down...

 

The first rule of holes,

when you want out,

stop digging.

 

The first rule of war,

is to win by

retreating.

 

The first rule of love

is to fall in,

or to fall out.

 

The first rule of cards,

is to bet well,

or fold, to get out.

 

When the chips are down,

buy another round,

 

another round,

another round,

 

and round and round,

until you drown,

when the chips are down...


*******       ********** 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(C) (P) Arthur Davenport, Good Read Music LLC, all rights reserved.

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