The key

I found an unknown key

to an unknown lock

in a drawer I was sorting through

today

What should I do with it

throw it away or

put it back in the drawer or

put it in the little box

With all the other keys I once needed

but no longer need

locks left unlocked

or locked away forever

Dying slowly

the invasion of moisture

the advance of rust

the slow clenching

Alone and useless

a life that has been passed by

never again to feel

the welcome penetration of the key

Never again to release

the pressure of the tumblers

the action summed up

in a final click

The unknown key stares mute

its face and teeth

set in the grimace

of final acceptance.

I close my hand over the key

wondering of the lost lock

and set about

trying to decide.

Big Man

I'm a big man with a gun,

afraid of no one.

I have the special eyes

that see through lies.

I have the special ears

that hear fears.

I'm a big man with a gun,

accountable to no one.

I'm a big man with a gun,

afraid of no one.

I have the special mind

that knows the different kind.

I have the special sense

that understands pretense.

I'm a big man with a gun,

all justice rolled into one.

I'm a big man with a gun,

afraid of no one.

I have the special rights

that win all fights.

I have the special laws

that obscure my flaws.

I'm a big man with a gun,

stronger than anyone.

I'm a big man with a gun,

afraid of no one.

I have the special way

that knows truth as it lays.

I have the special skin

that detects every sin.

I'm a big man with a gun,

I know what must be done.

The Legend of Reagan

Already a dying mind

he blew the cold war hot

and dreamed of nuclear conflict,

as if a on the movie screen:

The sad list of casualties rolled in,

some millions in New York City

some millions in L.A.

a single pilot dive bombing Moscow.

He presented the posthumous

Medal of Honor

to the weeping widow with stoic sons

as a grateful nation looked on.

He dreamed of pitting aging battleships

against silent submarines

the massive guns searched for targets,

the submarines glided ever nearer.

He honored the brave sailors

who fought against the odds

drowning men and sinking ships,

the words he spoke so firmly.

Planes flew in and never returned

ships disappeared in balls of fire

soldiers sickened and fought on;

the president raised his hands.

He pointed to the wall 

he pointed to the the monitor

the green screen enveloped him

and still he dreamed.

The barbarians were at the gates

the capitol in ruins

a ragged few patriots

against the Mongol hoard.

The president dreamed he stood firm 

as the republic crumbled

his powers unchecked saved the day

he retired to his farm.

To await the day when once again

his nation would call

and he'd sow the salt at Carthage

as Scipio had done.

In the Mood

I'm always in a writing mood 

or in a music mood

then I sit down at either keyboard 

and the mood betrays me;

I need viagra for the disfunction of art

or weed, coke or something

to pull the words and music

out of a soul that dried up long ago;

my fingers pause and raise the coffee cup

and salute my last addiction,

except for the daydream of youth

when the words, music and future flowed;

and even I could spin

easily to the basket

and stretch one long thin arm out,

and finger roll it in.

Life as an Animal

When the lizard brain awakes

and all that is human has fled

and we are reduced to our lowest form

scrabbling among the rocks

or slithering amidst the reeds

seeing with dull eyes set low

feeling the dry and the wet

hearing the silence and the sibilant

smelling the decay of the carrion

tasting the rot with relish.

When the lizard brain awakes

and all that is reason has gone

and we that are primitive arise

scrabbling into the sunlight

or slithering onto the warm sand

seeing shadows with with dim eyes

feeling pain with hard skin

hearing cries with covered ears

smelling lust within the musty

tasting the blood eagerly.

When the lizard brain awakes

and all that is enlightenment has darkened

and we blunder noisily in the night

scrabbling along the water's edge

or slithering into the wetness

seeing nothing in panic

feeling that which is unseen

hearing the sounds in the loudness

smelling both the prey and the hunter

tasting the empty snap of the jaws.

When the lizard brain awakes

and all that is civil has torn away

and we thrust away the broken soul

scrabbling after the prey

or slithering from the hunter

seeing the blood and the flesh

feeling the fear and the anger

hearing the whimper and the scream

smelling the terror and the fright

tasting the bitter and the sweet.

When the lizard brain awakes

and all that is us has left

and we are fear, pain, loathing and anger

scrabbling for the choicest bits

or slithering among the remnants of life

seeing what we want to see

feeling what we want to feel

hearing what we want to hear

smelling what we want to smell

tasting what we want to taste.

Bullet Back

Even after 40 years I'm still wanting to take the bullet back...

a song of ghosts

When I washed my hands for the 20th time that day

I stared in the mirror above the sink

as I dried my hands

a hollow eyed ghost stared back at me.

My lips parted to speak 

and the ghost's lips parted, too

so I waited to hear what he had to say

but the words whispered out and I could not tell.

Once again I started to speak

and once again I waited in deference

and I strained my ears as he spoke

and he said "sorry, I'm sorry".

I nodded as if I understood

and waited longer to invite

any other word he cared to speak

but he slowly shook his head and I shook mine, too.

So at last I could say what I wanted to say

and as I spoke the ghost shook his head

his hollow eyes grew more hollow

his haunted face grew more haunted.

I spoke to the ghost and he shook his head

even I could not hear the words I spoke

I wondered if I'd become deaf after all

but the ghost assured me that I hadn't.

I caste my eyes up and down

I glanced from left to right

and turned my head to look over my shoulder

but there was no ghost nearby.

Then I stared straight ahead

into the mirror of the past

into the mirror of the future

straining for a glimpse of the now.

The ghost stared back without emotion

and when I started to speak he turned his head

so I hesitated

and washed my hands again.