To Kill A Messenger

Scene One, Act One:
A cry went up...
A head came down
And rolled across the floor
The mercy of the once renowned
And silver for the shores
A man born to shackle stone
A grimace and a whore
They lacked the space to call it home
A splinter from the floor

All steam and blood and Benjamin
All steam and blood and curse

Take a bath above the trap
Rinse twice and fill their purse
Deed and weeds all will be lost
Upon these streets of gold
Streets of gold they love to say
A trick of light I aught to know

Your burdens in your skin and bones
Your shiny shoes now worn with holes

A wisp of smoke on dusty streets
As acrid death and nostrils meet

You can always tell them anywhere
You can pick them from a crowd
They carry their conscience in their shoulders
And they step each step hard down

No these are not good days my friend

As they say sadness accrues
I guess that makes this place big bank

And makes us bolts and screws

Scene Two, Act One:
I’ll take delight from their deaths
I'll give them bad as good it gets
I had to work for all I have
And for all my time I gave
Now they whisper slight of hands
And eyes speak of new hate
It’s not a simple scene as told
And the turn to violence far too bold
So come to my door as torched flame
Knock will be answered surprise thy name
In the courtyard the trap now set
And the men with axes whet
Soon will be blood on old soil
Shutter to think earth may boil
A tragic lesson far and wide
Revolutions heart had died

--
Scene Three, Act One:
Ahhhh cry went up to the heavens
On dusty knees with wide eyes reddened
Lonely old bucket and rake as witness
And the Lord asking forth forgiveness

Keres Promise Kept

Arm aching...
Arm aching...?
Who writes "arm aching" on a bathroom wall?
The insane and the vain and that bitter hooker wanting a call.
She’s plumb nuts and on her cuts were smaller cuts and enough
Lithium and all the umms that start with “i” and end with her fall
There’s a saying in the place she’s from not that she would ever grab
She’s lived her life as a family call girl and takes Scotch and Valium to forget
In the meantime she writes about the love that she will never have
Alone and cold and on the floor
like millions of those that drank too much
The cool tiles of the bathroom helped her focus
on dreamy last prayers and engraven font notch
First she carved into the wall and then filled the scribe with ink
And then she turned the blade on herself and dropped the needle in the sink
Arm aching, Arm aching
The Angels sang and trumpets soared with choir
Arm aching, Arm aching
were mumbled words as her veins filled with fire
Arm aching, Arm aching...
The last thing she said before she turned to fall
Arm aching... Arm aching...
spoon

Saved by Pussy

He said little as they paddled their way along the sunken streets...

It had been days since they had seen life. Aside from the plants, that is. The ones left behind in the quick escape attempts. He always expected a post apocalyptic experience to be more shoulder pads, mo-hawks, and battles for gasoline.

Funny. . .

He could have all the petroleum in the world now and he wouldn’t care.

She noticed it first.

Out of a flooded alley it swam towards the canoe like they were expected for tea.

At first, they wanted to call it simply “cat”, but the collar read Adam.

In a way, that’s when they started their new life.


On it’s collar was a small container, shaped like a scroll
And when opened and pulled out 5 inches of paper did unroll
On it was a rhyme,labeled McGill's Meow, in simple words in plain old type
And this is what is said, as I recall, call it a warning if you like

He sneaks around at night, this cat, and eats all he can find
Perched atop the fridge he’ll eat potato chips without mind
He’ll eat any crumbs found upon floors
and lick empty dog bowls wishing for more
He’d steal the roll off of my plate
if for supper I arrived even a moment too late.

Though there’s one place he doesn’t know of it’s a pantry I've stocked for years
Canned meats, jellies and jams, and all things that keep folk grinning ear to ear
During the day when he is fat and sleeping with sunbeams on parlor floor
I sneak into third floor pantry, have a snack, and write some more
You see, I write though that's not my only kind secret
I know a few and wouldn't you . . . .

WAIT! Did he say food "stocked for years"?
Let me see that collar . . .

It has an address.