POEM FOR MY FATHER

on weekends my father
worked for Luke Morley
at the corner grocery store
not for money but for conversation
communication he never had
with my mother
stacking shelves with canned goods
coming home with his reward
a pack or two of Pall Mall cigarettes
sitting alone staring out the window
smoking a cigarette
the ashes falling in the ash tray
like bits and pieces of his life


REVISED POEM: WRITTEN
ON MY WAY TO LAS VEGAS

the preacher man
don't believe in evolution
the con man
he don't believe in revolution
the priest has run out of absolution

no more quarreling with poets
no more autographs
no more forced laughs
no more hanging around the
small press zoo swapping stories
with guru's

going to get me some hash
drink me some sour mash
going to smoke me some dope
with my good friend the Pope

going to find me a lady
make love nice and slow
write me a love ballad
inside my head
play the lyrics
on my brass bed

going to introduce foreplay
to after play
turn night into day
trade in my illusions
for delusions
read me some Edgar Ellen Poe
lose myself in the absurdity
of the Late Night Show

going to give up center stage
let the tiger loose from his cage
going to make a cameo appearance
on the 6 pm news
play me some John Lee Hooker Blues
evolve evolution into a revolution
put anarchy on the stock market
nuke technology, outlaw e-mail
declare Da Da the official
English language

going to put on my best tie
tell the Pope to quit spreading
the big lie
going to turn outlaws
into inlaws
and owners into donors

going to name a bus after
Rosa park
expose Saint Nick as a chick
with a twelve inch dick
put a little nookie
in every fortune cookie
find me an eskimo pie
who don't believe in the lie

going to find a dragon lady
in Chinatown
buy her a see-through
nightgown
and take her out on the town

going to play Micheline's
whacky doo, whacky doo
whacky doo
while walking through the zoo

going to give a  hungry dog
a bone
treat a woman
to an ice cream cone
never have her feel alone

going to talk to the fly
in the soup
alone or swimming in a group
going to sing a love ballad
with Lorca and a band of gypsies
stop off at the manager
and have a talk with the
Lone Ranger

going to put an end
to hemorrhoids
out law humanoids
going to join the human race
wipe that smirk off Bush's face

going to bring back Lenny Bruce
make politicians ride the caboose
going to go back to school
erase the golden rule

going to feed a vulture
starve off mass culture
going to stay high
on poems and pussy
that never die

going to turn evolution
into a revolution
make poetry an
institution


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