A jukebox ending the silence
masks the dialogue in your mind;
That beat’s a saving grace,
with a chorus left on repeat;
Guitars that are louder than hell
are fresh air that open those lungs;
Finally you exhale,
the sound explodes into a storm;
Snarling they call it an anthem,
put your money where your mouth is!
Sometimes it is joined noise.
Either way? It will fire you up.
Hooking up when you need it most,
nothing matters but three minutes;
Bottled melodic aggression
tends to start a virus;
A theme song for the malcontent.
MALCONTENT
Dressed in the rags of time and places
He signifies in loud incoherent phrases
With bluff and blunder
Talks a storm
Sings as thunder
Scaring tourists and their children
From tame towns that have no Zen
With once dull eyes they come
and see just another homeless bum
Believing their lives are the ‘only’ way
They lie to self wishing they
Could also speak the magic of dirt and dust
And do, what the ‘Dust Dancer’ must.
"We all gotta eat our own ‘peck O’ dirt."
Fate rewarded some who came,
Daily problems quickly solved.
Wisdom thrived in their domain,
Joyful as their lives evolved.
You distorted what you saw,
Public minutes, private years.
Never witness to the flaws,
Hidden turmoil, muted tears.
Eyes, reflecting wrong side up,
Squint through nickelodeans.
Brilliant microscopic dust
Floating through what might have been.
All delusions bring the same,
Different versions of yourself.
Time can't alter what remains,
Single bookend, empty shelf.
Gene Bourne.
08-23-14
.
Not content with just penurious loaves
Wretched pauper for richer diet strove
Seeking treasure from a wealthier trove
Delicate crumbs from hearty stoves;
Pungent fruit from well-stocked groves
Poached sustenance frail body did gladly receive
Yet of better fare covetous mind did conceive
Then with guile from gullible hearts lucrative profits deceive
'Til stitched threads a fine, seamless tapestry did weave
O'er time malfeasance with cankering anger did twain
With licentious craft bartered for wanton gain
Still, embittered spirit did all the world ruefully disdain
Tethered to earthly mammon; eternal soul did enchain
Moral, be content with the goods you have
A shriveled piece of bread better than a poached calf
With tendered tissue your festering wants salve
Lest infectious greed spread to heart's valve
Secluded mind murder
Windows are false inside here
I find here,deep inside here...i don't find myself hoping for peace
These clouds of despair that blind the battlefield have a dark appeal
My naked eyes see nothing
The cheerful souls have perished...the beautiful people have all withered away
This Old Age prophecy must be
This is A Bleak life...led by the paragraphs of holy books,held by crooks
Sing songs of renewal in the afterworld
....hopeful catharsis...the relief of world
I admit...
i am the bashful admirer of profound destruction
signed
-K.D????
The autumn leaves fell from amber skies
And the wind it blew from a mystical place.
But when I spit to the ground; the wind blew it around;
And now it hangs here in my face.
We walked through the garden of roses and daisies;
Reeling in the luster of loves after glow;
When she stooped down to smell; not everything went well;
The daisy smelled like dung but perhaps you know.
In a rainstorm together we walked; singing love songs to each other;
One day I confessed my love; she said I feel the same as you
But a car came along; now my baby’s gone;
And I wound up with the flue
We did everything right; she was my lover with exquisite green eyes;
The way I cared for her made me wonder if I ever knew love before
And now what ever I do; I can’t forget her eyes
And THAT’S poetic justice; and there seems to be nothing more.