Love

So Frodo pretended
to be part of their city:
Their brokenness tending
to hatred, not to pity;
The old man, descended
to break their false divinity,
told him what to do:

So here in this land, in the
lateness of the hour,
With the fate in his hand of these
faithless bred to cower,
Weapon of the enemy
taken to his Tower
(or, well, one of the Two);

And a land plunged in death but
with hate less of a motive
than each precious breath this
Great Satan had the throat of,
and Ah, Elbereth! what
Must wait, world we know it a-
bove!

You’re up against Love
You’re up against Love
GOD HELP YOU you’re up against Love

Young Skywalker switched off
his targeting computer:
It’s primary ignition
and him with his pea shooter,
his hokey religion,
the holy man his tutor, and
OWEN and BERU.

Driven on by the thought he’d
be seeing his Princess hurt,
and each deadly shot at him
through the nothingness heard,
and TWO SMOULDERING BODIES
JUST LEFT THERE IN THE DESERT, HEY!!!!
… wouldn’t you?

So he gave in to Force and he
gave over to ruin
enough slaves and storm troops to
fill in a moon
and zero remorse for each
poor FN21
87:

You’re up against Love
You’re up against Love
GOD HELP YOU you’re up against Love.

Michael Corleone loves!
There’s a love there for his daughter!

And this river’s been muddy,
If you don’t look down, it’s water!

There’s a path laid in front of you
Accepting that First Order:
ONE SIMPLY DOES WALK INTO MURDER!

The pain in your past:
The childhood spent in Juvie, or
Having a blast
It was wild, and it might prove that you’re
Really that fast,
To retire as would behoove before
Reaching That Part
of the Movie

Or how you were cast,
and how enough is never enough –

God help you you’re up against Love:
GOD HELP YOU
YOU’RE UP AGAINST
LOVE


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D-Day

A was an Answer I already knew!
B was the Bore I’d been turning into:
C the Calamity nothing will slow!
And D was the Day I’d be ready to go.

E was the Evidence, piled to the stars,
F the Futility of singing in bars,
G the ENOW of a MIGHTY ALTHOUGH;
And H was the Hour I’d be ready to go! 

I was the ugliest kid in my school,
An eye for an eye and a five-second rule,
In a time full of nothing, to finally show

That I was, the Instant I’m ready to go.

J was the Job I could have if I stayed,
K was the Killing that stood to be made,
L was the Love I might otherwise know,
And M was the Minute I’m ready to go!

N was for Nothing, my future was Pee!
And Q was the Question “what happened to me?”
And R the Reply “Well, what happened to O?”
And S was the Second I’m Ready to Go!

You were the Universe, obviously:
You were like something you find in TV;

And Time was now suddenly stuttering so
And V was the Very last person to know:
Oh.
Oh, no.

Double you, triple you, infinite you:
But X marks the spot I was turning into;
And Why is an answer I already knew:
And Z is for Zebra.

A was an answer I already knew:
B was the bore I was turning into:
See the calamity nothing will slow; but
D is the Day that I’ll go:
D is the Day that I’ll go!

Responsible

Now, we were all in the backseat
(And obviously, the passing lane)
And nobody’s driving ‘cos everyone’s drunk, 
(officer)!
Nobody told me that Prohibition’s back again,
You know you should probably be finding someone
Responsible,
Responsible,
Responsible!

Hey! Hey! Hey!

You’re keeping pace with a taxi,
So why not blame the taxi driver?
Face down, relaxed (the
Partition is closed)!
The pills we gave just weren’t a vaccine,
No-one likes a backseat driver,
Save your attacks, we’ve
Been tracking down those
Responsible,
Responsible,
Responsible!

If we could figure out the doors,
We could take all your suggestions now, we’d

Leap car-to-car, or
That thing that you yelled
About the “seatbelts,” ignoring
how we actually just told you how we
Cannot be Held.

Don’t want to hear about the bumps
We ran into at the intersection,
Steered with our thumbs
Till they made us lose hold:
It should be clear this is one party
Under nobody’s direction! 
It never gets old!  
It never gets old!
It never,
it never gets old!

(No it doesn’t!)

Hey! Hey! Hey!
Hey!

If there’s a bend in this highway
It isn’t for a minute, yet – we’re
Spending it my way, – like everyone wants!
My blurry friend, you can fly away,
Contented that we’re finished, here:
You’ve had my response!
… My response!

Beast

Your days full of praisers lined up for the feast
Would all be through, had they seen You Becoming a Beast! 
Your horde to be gored hoping they’ll just be fleeced,
Would all be gone had they looked on You Becoming a …
Your roar them should scare as are in no petting zoo:
“When you’re anywhere better do as the werewolves dawoooooo!” 
Your win-(and tooth-)some grin, and your brow uncreased,
Aren’t to play dumb, they’re You Becoming a Beast!

We’ll hide us inside, but you won’t be policed:
The nights are free to fight or flee, Becoming a Beast! 
The Lessers profess their “I will be released”
To some, lessee, who could it be, Becoming a …
Your tune “Liberty, when Democracy’s done”
(a Moon ever free from the light of the Sun)
Is the same if you blame one more con artiste,
Or do keep schtum: it’s You Becoming a Beast!

Aaaaaahh
Aaaaaahh
Aaaaaahh
Aaaaaahh
Awooooooo! 
Awooooooo!
Awooooooo!  (this is you)

There’s no point in arguing or calling a priest –
Not anymore: your reason for: Becoming a Beast! 
If the ten-times-three that your forepaws greased
Were melted down, what goes around, Becoming a …
With so much to grieve, and so few who still care
I can’t not believe you’re still someplace in there,
But the lair you prepare where we’re all deceased
Dor lack of laws, must give us pause, at least:

So here’s a rule of thumb: Get two: we’ll be coming.
A rule of thumb (it’s too ill-becoming)
A rule:
It’s CRUEL
… becoming a Beast!

The Actor’s Nightmare

Just dream – this will not be on the test
(pencils down, now)
Onscreen, another teenaged affair
if all the world is esteem
there’s no occasion for terror
It’s just the Actor’s Nightmare
It’s just the Actor’s Nightmare
It’s just the Actor’s Nightmare

Cut scene! This can be cleaned in the edit
(Tinseltown, now):
Proscenium between here and … Over there,
Leaves us with nothing to scream
Seeing the scenery flare
It’s just the actors’ nightmare x3

There’s always gonna
Be one more take:
And no more [d]ra[]ma
When you wake,
When you wake,
When you wake.

Just dream:
Nobody’s really up set
(Sensurround, now)
We’re free
Where no has-been’s gonna stare
As if you’d had anything
There was a need to prepare:
It’s just the actor’s nightmare. 
It’s just the actor’s nightmare.

Vilanelle for Our Time – Frank Scott

From bitter searching of the heart, quickened with PASSION and with PAIN, we rise to play a greater part. THIS IS THE FAITH FROM WHICH WE START: Men shall know commonwealth again FROM BITTER SEARCHING OF THE HEART. We loved the easy and the smart, but now with keener hand and brain, we rise to play a greater part: the lesser loyalties depart (and neither race nor creed remain) FROM BITTER SEARCHING OF THE HEART, not steering by the venal chart that tricked the mass for private gain: we rise to play a greater part, reshaping narrow LAW and ART whose symbols are the millions slain: FROM BITTER SEARCHING OF THE HEART, we rise to play a greater part.

The Line Somewhere

I draw your face from observation:
I always fall in love this way:
When you’re so gracious and so patient
to let me stare at you all day
And I can ace or not the placement
I draw your eyes, I draw your hair:
it’s not your face or what your face meant
but I’ve got to draw the line somewhere x4

I draw the world but in perspective:
I only ever get one side.
In the detail that you’d expect of a drawing pad yea long and yea wide:
I draw your face where all my trust is
where it is easiest to care:
I’m doing neither of you justice
But I’ve got to draw the line somwhere x4

The world is gone
it’s drawn and quartered
it’s in the papers every day:
It drew upon our love like water
Where what is drawn won’t get to stay:
You’re moving on:
I know you oughtta
Not one is straight, I know from mine –
We draw the line x2

Whether by motors wings or pistons
one day I’ll go ten times that far.
True love is worshipping the distance
Which in the end our loved ones are.
And of the world – with your assistance,
To never say it wasn’t fair:

It’s just got to draw the line somewhere.

Evergreen

[Here’s a song for 353 days of the calendar, 354 during leap years].

Cmon baby,
Give me some Christmas –
I’ve been a real good boy!
I know you ain’t been
checking your list, but
I’m not checking mine,
so we’ll be just fine!
Some people say it’s
just for the kids, just
for a few days, but
Dear:
Infancy can be for always and
Christmas can be all year!

Cmon baby,
give me Thanksgiving:
Ain’t I been provident!!!
Those people may’ve been
making their living
till we came along,
now see where they’ve gone!
At the big table,
everyone’s striven
so hard to lay this one
here:
Where infancy can be for forever ‘n’
Christmas can be all year!

The end of year’s
like the ending of the day: –
the harvest had best be in:
the Sun’s not here so
we put the tools away,
forgiven of our parts to play,
forgiven of – well, forgiven
but let them pick them up again
and keep the piddling change, all
of that scene,
I’m EVERGREEN
and you can be
and you can be
and you can be
MY LITTLE ANGEL

Cmon baby,
Give us a new year,
GIVE ME A NEW YEAR’S EVE.
You know, you know what
I’m talkin about do ya,
Or do you sin-
cerely want me to leave?
The gifts are open
and you got the beauty
and I got the rule through fear:
It’s never been what we’re contributing,
it’s what I can commndeer:
With infancy the best we can do, yeah,
Christmas’ll be all,
Christmas’ll be all,
CHRISTMAS
Will be all year!

Fifteen Minutes Each Four Years

It’s a free country, we’re proud to be in it
So we’ll drain the last drop of our beers
And show up for our country for fifteen minutes
Each four years

It’s a kibbitzer’s heaven to kibbitz
So we’re not giving in to our fears
And we’re not giving NOTHING but fifteen minutes
Each four years

There are those who will tell you your vote doesn’t matter
Stay home, watch shows that night
And if that’s what we’re doing on all of the others
It doesn’t mean they’re right
It doesn’t mean they’re right

There’s a donkey and you get to pin it
The results will be framed as Vermeers
When we finally get round to our fifteen minutes
Each four years

They’ll say, “Freedom’s not free” but it is if you pick it
With no blood, sweat or tears:
So we’ll hand in our instant-win lottery ticket:
There’s a green volunteer who knows where you can stick it
The machine’s made for tricking, we hope that they’ll trick it:
It’d mean
Someone still cares.

You can tell me democracy’s finished
But it’s not as bleak as it appears:
‘Cos it’s not like we’re gonna miss fifteen minutes
Each four years
And we’re talking, if we’re serious,
Fifteen minutes
Each four years.

Blue Blue State

(Brooklyn’s inimitable Chris D. Butler recorded this and guided me through a simple piano part (I played piano!) and quasi-mastered the track “in-board” for me, begging me to get it done right – then I ineptly and jarringly substituted one word of revised, (bedroom-sung) lyrics because I can’t be both inaccurate and rude about the working class without losing all sense of myself. Sorry, Chris (and listeners), and thank you, Chris!!)

Rule by a fool isn’t cool, to be sure
He couldn’t even say “nuclear”
He talked like (and, well, okay, murdered) the poor
Without ever enduring their fate
Rule by the rulers as cool as to be
That’s what we call “meritocracy”
By ANYONE OTHER THAN YOU till I see
Your embarrassment redden to hate
I see your embarrassment redden to hate
And now I’m in a

Blue
Blue State
I’m in a blue
Blue State
Without your love I am utterly blue
What in the world do you want me to do no don’t answer that, it’s okay, really, no wait

I’m in a blue state

Hand in your land to a banker or king
If you want it all squandered on gambling
The banditry generally stand to the bling
At an inverse proportional rate
So swaddled in twaddle and pablum and puns
In bubbles to match the financial ones
With our knolwedge we play “Keep away” from the Huns
From the barbarians at the gate
And now there are barbarians at the gate
Outside of my

Blue
Blue state
I’m in a blue
Blue state
Without your love I may be turning blue
What in the world do you want me to do no no it’s okay, hang on, no really no wait:

(Blue state.)

Whether it’s breadth of the wallet or head
Is how the “ocracy”‘s “merited”
And which it’d be best to inherit instead
To be master of everyone’s fate:
Make of the hats or what’s under the hats?
Plutocrats or Technocrats
There was another word ended with that
It was hang on, no it’s okay, really, no wait!

“Liberal” as literally “fit to be free”
Rituals of sensitivity
Tell us who’s meant in our presence to speak
Or our young men and women to date
So every four years we find out who prefers
Their CEOs to their managers
I guess we’re okay till the next one occurs and it’s
“Darling, don’t say it’s too late”
And it well might be “Darling, don’t say it’s too late”
For me and my

Blue
Blue state
I’m in a blue
Blue state

Okay: Your tolerance even for intellect falls
The more the goddamned intellectuals
Treat whether the unlettered
Or poor should be culls
As the meaning of all the debate

And I’m in a blue state.