I Once Had A Chicken That Went Meow

I once had a chicken that went meow

I need to go I need to get out now

They’re after me, you must understand

Please help me, gimme a hand

I’m constantly having to watch my back

To keep them from giving me the smack

Soon I’ll be taking flight

I’ll be gone before the night

The moon still shines in the day

It’s part of their sinister plan

When they get me, I’ll say

Who’s you, man?!

Sun, beaches & waves

To save yourself, you must be brave

I must not make a sound

Or else I’ll be found

They’ll torture me till I’m blue

I’ll cry & scream out for you

Would you come rescue me

Would you come set me free

My childhood comes wanting to play

How long till oppression they will ban

Soon my mind will stray

& I’ll say, who’s you, man?!

Circa 2000

(An old poem that reminds me how simple life once was)

Picking Out Tunes From A Lost Childhood

Picking out tunes from a lost childhood
Icons from an isolated life; memories fleeting
Can’t keep track of my overblown tragedies
My own imagination responsible for these beatings

My past is a weight, tugging at my fragile soul
Written missives, but she flew off to Ontario
Shunning my offerings for a comprehensive life
I speak of love, but she merely turns up the stereo

I’m So Happy, I’ll Dance You A Jig

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I’m so happy, I’ll dance you a jig
With my eyes open, these dreams so big

Still living this life with childhood eyes
Truth always revealed as the tears dried

Sailing ships, battered by wind & storm
Ignoring reason, logic & the accepted norm

Life gets hectic, it’s often a terrible mess
Never grow up, push past into happiness

Fairy influence & the magic it might behold
Let us go now & create a story that’s yet untold

Where love & insanity will always meet
The freedom within our wild heartbeats

Close your eyes, finding something lost
Your favorite memory forever embossed

Tossed into slumbering pages of a book
Captive audiences held by Captain Hook

The golden cutlass, the prize of his plunder
Sharp, but wit marks our Boy Wonder

The best things in life are never planned
Without remorse, we return to Neverland

Suburban Arcades & Record Stores

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Suburban arcades & record stores
Love notes left jammed in the teletype
Ancient technologies lost to whims of time
Sacrilege of consuming before it’s ripe

Littered by dreams of public-school poets
Falling to the feminine side of healing
Whose obedience to authority lingers
But only the lonely are rhymin’ & stealin’

Our literary antihero catching the cliff notes
A repressed childhood is still better by half
Trying to make up for that deleted time
But you can’t get far by writing on decaf

Standing with arms braced to the wind
Needing antiquity to know how we perform
Rolling empty dice against our loaded fates
Summer on the coast ensures the storm