Bob Dylan Cassius Clay

What to say

A Lot

Remember me
to one
who lives there

Give me a reason to remember
Since memory is precious

Bob Dylan
Cassius Clay

Simple Simon
What to say

A Lot

Fruit of the loom
is fleeting

Sure to beat with
stupor infested serene

Good times killing me
one after another

rolling flowing overpowering
one right after another

oh no, up for air too short

rift, down, above: here it comes
another

Holidays, food, presents
treacherous, times

Here it comes another wave

I can only wait, not long enough.

Nothing Ever Hurt You

Do you remember when you looked at your baby
and said I will never let anything hurt you

Heroin comes in
and then they can't come near
the house they grew up in
cause it's a trigger

how i hate that word

I want to take it and fling it
into space's black hole

And maybe follow along

Space's black hole
not to think anymore about this
or that

Or YOU

There's a Blanket

I don't understand much of anything
I just feel more than I know

I wish they who don't have kids
would know what it means

when a kid sits on a street with
no home

What do you think?

Let's be tough

Let's not care

much, we did more than enuff

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7-8iK6XifV4
(start the song on youtube and then read the poem)

Ya Shoulda Heard It

I am in a quandary.

I feel like boxing ears.

Hid in the sand ears

I want to resurface them

And say

Lookee

Where ya been

Ain’t you heard of it

Haven’t been touched by it?

Your comments are perplexing

They go something like

They had a choice

They didn’t have to take that first hit

They shoulda coulda done nothing like they did.

They coulda just lived in a perfect world like I did

I did it. They coulda to

They shoulda known better

I think they heard about it like I did 20, 40 years ago.

When I was 14

And ya weren’t born

You shouldn’ta had your head buried in not yet living or being

Cause, I think ya shoulda heard it.

I Must Have Flown the Coop

I guess I must have done something wrong
He says; she says so.

Cradling you in arms
singing praying laughing at your smiles

I must have flown the coop
I must have fried the sun on my head
of thot

I must have fridged my heart to be an ice block
so I couldn't see

I must have written that last blog while you were
drowning

Doesn't matter.

God will; does judge righteously.
He knows and will tell me

Not you who are blessed enough to
not have a child stumble into a railway train on a track

to point a gun to her head and pull the trigger because they can't take the pain

to flail at an eat 'n park and lose a career a whole other life

to drop one's pressure so as to be sure not to return to this life

It's a blessing to come back; to not be gone
But, you haven't had the experience

So, sorry for expecting you to understand,
It's like expecting the color red to see the color blue

If i could reach i could expect to lessen the death sentence

More of our kids would search for help
More of our benefactors would willingly respond and
mete out balm.

The Rebuttal

Facing the death of someone's kid from addiction
Is like grabbing two images embedded in concrete
butted up against one another

One of the dead child
the other of a veil of fog lined with daisies

an image turned around and behind
a monster hovering over the denial
in epic proportions

and I know it but i keep
revolving in denial

saying NO!  affirming NO!

i am just telling you

I just heard from a friend
A person who died
do yu care

I guess it's hard to relate
if yo don't

so I think i am telling you
to react so you don't need to
RELATE