slam etc.

Ah! For the days when writing flowed,
When knowledge was detached;
When all was pure philosophy,
The truth still tightly latched.

But now each word is painful.
Embarassment shrouds each line.
Before it was vicarious,
But now the soul is mine.

I wrote of love and hate and fear
And wrote of these with fervor.
Oh how easy it was then
When I was mere observer.

Conclusions that I came to then,
Correct, but somehow shallow,
Were painless and imperfect prints
Set in melting tallow.

But as life's sculpting hands have cut
Deep ridges and sharp rips,
The words that would descdribe it well
Can't get beyond my lips.

(6/7/80)

Green scene.
Adam,
Madam.
THE tree.
Satan' waitin'
Glib fib.
Haste.
Taste.
Shame.
Blame.
Mean scene.

(1984)

Did you ever see a tiger
In a green and yellow hotrod
just a crusin' down the highway
in the middle of July?
You say you never, ever saw one
Not in August or September?
(Well to be perfectly honest,
Neither did I.)

Did you ever eat balogne
On a cheese and jelly sandwich
With a lot of juicy pickles
Baked inside a rhubarb pie?
You say you haven't ever tried it?
Not for breakfast, lunch, or dinner?
(Well to be perfectly honest,
Neither have I)

Did you ever do your homework
With the book turned upside down
And the answers came out right
And you wondered why?
If you've ever, ever done it,
Then you know it couldn't happen.
And I know you'd get a zero.
(Once I tried.)

Did you ever write a poem
In a bathtub full of water
As the shower washed the ink
Down on your toes?
(Well that's how I wrote this one
And the water smeared the ending.
And I really can't remember
how it goes.)

(1974)

Pass the butter, please.
But don't pass the peas.

If I eat peas I'll surely die.
But don't hold back the apple pie.

You can serve me eggs and cheese,
chocolate covered bumble bees,
Liver, spinach, all of these,
But, heaven sakes, DON'T...SERVE...ME...PEAS!!!

Pass the butter, please.
But don't pass the peas.

(1974)

Rumble-jumble!
Stumble, bumble,
Fumble. Grumble.
Humble mumble.

(1970)