Monday, January 8, 2018

Jack Boots, I Guess

The Statey pulled me over agin today
He looked down at me through the window
But I had become but a mirror reflection
He took out his ticket book
And began to wipe away the universe
We were floating in endless space
I looked at his feet which were gross
facsimiles of something????
"What are those?" I asked
He looked down past the steering wheel.
"I don't know...jack boots, I guess?"

I Heard It From The Grape, Man

I was out there looking at them looking at me
When, suddenly, from afar, a dank cloud

She then asked for the divorce, not of our marriage
This time the ducks were cold

The flies bundled up into fiber as the mask fell
Off the wall humor everywhere

You think you know, but then you don't know
And a street cleaner runs over your feet

All is forgiven and the saints hang up their coats
It is Christmas again on the aisle of death

There is a vineyard amongst my brain tissue
My hands had to dig their way out, wanting to strum

Along the corridors of my mandolin mind
Where all is forgiven when all is lost

Sal asked me to call his accountant for brevity
While the bald lady slaps me with her pocket book

Just another New York Monday lost on me again
They're hoping for rain in Albany

But the sewers are in rebellion again
They look into the mystic grape, a phallic totem

Of yesterdays gone wrong, but how could we know
That we, born into this whittled world to breathe

A dyers breath, will breathe again