The Broken Hallelujah

For the Loving
the Loathing
and the target
who never stops moving
For all the hurt who fell
chasing their own tail
through a reflection glistening
Four sheets to the wind
and under the full sail
of a fevered imagination

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To Him They Belong

Down to sleep
their souls to keep
Vulnerable
innocent and meek
Shaken … in shock
Grim trauma that seeps
out from the gutter
to reap
Below life’s glitter
where mothers weep
for innocence shattered
beyond all hope
Watch out now
Take care
Beware
Given enough rope
all things dark
and fearful
… into the deep

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Like a Rising Stone

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Like a Rising Stone
a voyage of homage

A time for Life
To seek
To be found
To feel
To be touched
To hear truth
How sweet the sound
To taste goodness
Goodness to be tasted
To love
To be loved
Without the Divine
life and time
truly wasted
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Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie

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Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie
(edited) ~ by Bob Dylan

When yer head gets twisted
and yer mind grows numb
When you think you’re too old,
too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin’ behind
an’ losin’ yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl
of life’s busy race
No matter what yer doing
if you start givin’ up
If the wine don’t come
to the top of yer cup
If the wind’s got you sideways
with one hand holdin’ on
And the other starts slipping
and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire
needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood’s easy findin’
but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin’
and the street gets too long
And you start walkin’ backwards
though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up
as down goes the day
And tomorrow’s mornin’
seems so far away

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Shades of Junk

Junk in school
Junk on the street
Junk is lurking
every place
that people meet
There’s nowhere safe
Can you stand the heat?
Best be cool
and fast on your feet
Junk that cheats
and is hard to beat

Junk piling up
in every place
Landfills full
of fetid waste
A natural habitat
for the human race?
Cockroaches and rats
are where junk’s at
Junk is ‘it’
in cyberspace
Junk all across
the internet
Breadcrumbing junk
Catfishing a flunk
junk that’s funk
gone kaput
and goes kerplunk
What the junk!?

The relic
from a Junk museum
drunk on junk
upon a rickety podium
giving it a tweet
talking the junk
Hellbent and spiked
like a Cosbied drink
The pulpit subterranean
molten junk is flowing
Junk out of sight
Junk micturating
from a great height
upon the shuffling throng
Where junk makes right
you just can’t go wrong
Junk opinions
everybody’s got one
From the cradle to the grave
junk in fashion
Worn with pride, style and grace
Junk just happens
Junk’s in your face

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Placebo Town (revisited)

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Is ‘Love’
just another
four letter word
given a life sentence?
With those voices
taking away my choices
Sometimes too little?
Sometimes too much?
Such is life
in this world of strife
Where they’ll turn
your smile
into a frown
by hanging you
upside down
from the whipping post
known as Placebo Town

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