Where Is The Parking?

Where Is The Parking?

 

I couldn’t catch the subway train

Eyes electric lady land vain

I didn’t even have any friends

Besides my Porsche and Mercedes Benz

So I hustled off to Alamo

And snorted a gram of blow

But the CIA was in a little worry

As they fled the scene in diabolical hurry

I saw a spot but it was awful tight

To fit in, to fit in, well I just might

Of course, I didn’t want to scratch the paint

If I did, I’d yell a spell and then faint

There was dog dodo on the ground

My heart in angst began to pound

I pressed the metal to the pedal in backwards cliché

And fled to what was a better day

Yuppies are a thing of the past

And police cruisers ride mighty fast

Chief Conforti is a confidant

Pray tell what more could you want

Another parking deck?

A dismal gigantic metallic wreck

Where is the parking snorted the whore?

What does it matter if there’s nuclear war? 

POLISHED FRAGMENTS

Poet To The Poor

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Quark Soup

Quark Soup

 

I read the Bible at least John three sixteen                

Heard something about a king nothing of a queen     

I’m a man a science a regular physicist                     

Religion is a myth because you can’t prove it           

 

Quark Soup it’s there somewhere in my bowl

Quark Soup nothing is in control

Darwin is right on a Saturday night

Quark Soup it’s out of sight

 

I was smashing atoms in the morning haze

My sexy assistant was lavishing endless praise

I’m sure you’ll win the Nobel prize one of these days

Bob Dylan won it and his voice is out of phase

 

Quark Soup it’s there somewhere in my bowl

Quark Soup nothing is in control

Darwin is right on a Saturday night

Quark Soup it’s out of sight

 

She must have spiked neutrinos in our vino

I was quoting equations floating to and fro

The theory of relativity was feeling flat

I was howling mad sounding like Schrodinger’ s cat

 

Quark Soup it’s there somewhere in my bowl

Quark Soup nothing is in control

Darwin is right on a Saturday night

Quark Soup it’s out of sight

 

They’re having a contest for the best poem twenty bucks

They want rhyming sonnets talking about monster trucks

I got me a bag of stones we’re off to a great start

If our Quark Soup needs meat why I’ll rip out your heart

 

Don’t say love life’s best secrets are kept silent

I look at the world and ask God if He will repent

I’m free of faith it’s a filthy savage disease

But if I’m free of faith why am I down on my knees

 

Quark Soup it’s there somewhere in my bowl

Quark Soup nothing is in control

Darwin is right on a Saturday night

Quark Soup it’s out of sight 

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The Institute

 The Institute

 

I was lost, lost as could be

A ship docked in the desert longing for the sea

I had not learned yet

The meaning getting wet

There were no shortages of guides

Self proclaimed godless gurus

Mindless messiahs of mania

Doctors sporting their grand degree

Arrogant asses of authority

 

I came wishing to forget my shame

Forsaking ‘Myron’ that awful name

What I sought I was unsure

All I knew was that I needed more
Something or someone I had not before

 

Enticed by the vice of paradise

Our innocence offered as sacrifice

Strangers the unknown did abound

No clue to what would be found
Or to where we were bound

But by nature of our tuition fee

We gave a salute

To the institute

And bowed our knee

 

These words are written in hindsight

Alas none can change the past

Not even if one had infinite might

We were the blind leading blind

Not knowing what we would find

But our task masters wicked and cruel

Knew we were naïve

Hope filled our sails

As they forecasted storms and gales

We were told to hang on

And simply believe

We sailed boldly trying to prove our worth

Headed for the edge of the Earth

Take a tour into the world of mental illness and see a human being. Please check out my book “More ThanThe Madness.”