Lotsa Poems

Be the change you wish to see in the world

Be the change you wish to see

Be the change you wish

Be the change

Be

I

AM

THE

NEXT

WOMAN

P E R S O N

W R I T I N G

T H I N K I N G

P O S T I N G

M A K I N G

D O I N G

H E R E

NOW

AM

I

All I want

Believe you me

Can be derived

During this poem

Everything will be clear

For you to see

Going forward

Have a little patience

I just want to tell you

Just what I came to say

Killing me softly

Laughing all the way

Many come to see

Nothing that’s too deep

Open your ears

Perhaps I’ll explain

Quite the long poem

Right up my alley

Starting with A

Then all the rest

Under my watch

Was the lone key

Xite unseen

You wouldn’t believe

Zoolander.

The old poet

was edgy and sincere in his youth

was a vegetarian wanderer

Now complains about kids these days

His generation already opposed a war

This new crop of protesters bore him

He already said ABC, man

So why bother with DEF?

Kids these days….

The ballad of fruit salad

is a sweet and citrus tune

sung by cowboy cooks

under the orange moon

They sing of lonesome fruit

that might be good in pie

But when it’s in fruit salad

no one will even try

The ballad of fruit salad

for the fruit that’s left behind

a tribute to the grapefruit

scooped lovingly from its rind

They sing of pomegranates

that no one understands

those complex and selfless fruits

rejected by cowhands

Oh the ballad of fruit salad

is a sad and juicy song

For nothing could be sadder

than when fruit does not belong

My mustache keeps me company, on the hot and dusty trails

It’s my mustache keeps me company, riding the lonesome rails

My mustache feels no jealousy, my mustache don’t keep score

It laughs at all my jokes, never thinks that I’m a bore

My mustache is my confidant, my one and only friend

My mustache keeps me company, ’til the bitter end

Remember when we were going to do a political radio show and then when we were going to start a whole pirate radio station?

Remember when that frequency opened up and we were going to start our own TV channel?

Remember the cooperative restaurant idea? The starch bar, the breakfast club, the muffin shop?

Remember when we were going to start that all ages club?

One by one, pathways slip away into the distance.

One by one, things that can be, can’t be.

I remember that great documentary we were going to make about your grandfather in Korea.

Your grandmother didn’t like my ethnicity. We shouldn’t have told her we were a couple.

We should have finished making that zine

that local punk rock compilation record

the 1–900 recreational drug information hotline

I was going to be a professional cartoonist

a radio commentator

an astronomer

an animator for NASA

go to film school

open an art gallery and name it after Janeane Garafalo so she would have to come and meet us

the performance art installation exploring the line between art and pornography

the record label

the fake heavy metal band

the fake country band

the fake Christian Rock band

They say everything happens for a reason

But what if nothing happens? Is that for a reason too?

I am almost finished with that tape for the kids. But nobody plays tapes anymore, and the kids are all grown up.

I am going to write those books, edit that epic travel video… 20 years in the making. Will anybody care if I actually finish it?

I still have to shoot that full length movie… I haven’t told her that she’s in it yet, I haven’t actually met her in person, but she’s perfect for the part.

It’s all on my list… that I copied from the previous list, that came from list, after list, after list. 30 years of the same list.

We were going to start that band. I guess it’s too late, since you have kids and live on the other side of the country.

I know it’s too late to interview Joey Ramone for my unwritten Ramones book. It would have been a great interview. It would have been a great book. I guess I have to take that one off my list.

I should have put writing this poem on a list, then I would have accomplished something.

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