week to week
day to day
hour to hour
I think about you
a failure of sequence
something
is out of step
I'd sing your name
but you run away

running on
running off
running out
running around
running over

running over my well being
doing donuts on my psyche
screaming your hate
at me

All week
you scream
your hate
at me
and you dare
tell me
for who
to vote?

Ah see her smiling
they take a thousand photos
and only show one

Ah see her posed
like a little girl's doll
a tool for indoctrination?
maybe in her mind.

Ah, as the wind slaps the crimson
flag which snaps in the strong
wind sweeps up the dust
of course
it never gets on her

Struggle
Struggle day to day
to forget
their total indifference
their meanness if we dare question
the limit of politeness
giving back what they give,

giving back
what they give
is a sin
in that it wishes
ill on them
we do better
to present
a better deal
a newer concept

When wind is cold and the hat and gloves are fogotten wondered off old man forgetting stands alone no one listens when he raves and talks to the fog out on the bridge of time the gorge that cuts through eternity.

An old
star
tracks
accross the picture
shutter left open.

See the bright blues
at the fringes, green tinge,
that yellow part
along the border
she
sees the trails
and wonders who would walk them.

If you really were the center
of the universe
and standing still
those distant stars
light years away
if they were moving that fast
would have to be moving
at manytimes
the speed of light

The speed of light
energy in the raw
not like sugar, because sugar
can be consumed
energy never can
she
acts as if
it all revolves 
around her
not understanding
the impossiblity
Einstien's equations
were very imprecise

Having been fully on board
with the cult of full funding
being treated as important
when you are in the presence of
prelates
and petty officers
who have a funding source
and they fully fund you
and all your relatives
so you can all walk around
playing that high-born prince of the realm bit
a tired gag
of the long ago
putting your chemical
into the fire pit
to spark sudden flame
noise and crackle
edge of time
the rythm of the ages
funded, fully funded
funded fully funded
"we'll say and do
whatever they say to do"

The greatest fraud of all
is that they let them go on with it

It's a climate of indifference,
an environment of institutional dementia
an aristocracy that dares not peak above
the partition
dares not ever
show up
for the job at all
but wants it all
the way they want it
When they think they are secure
they often flaunt it

"Do they ever even really exist at all"

So you can think about all that
and the various institutional failures
and societal collapses
and think about how the beach looks
before the rain
all the crap that everybody's left
all the trash that people failed to carry out
the birds that squabble 
over a quarter'dollar size piece of bread
that one of them ripped out of a babies hand
and then they chased after it with a broom
swinging into the strong wind
with no chance of ever getting it
and they called him a racist

I'd sit down the beach
if the guy with the broom 
were there again
chasing a seagull

I'd try to find another spot
pick up my thing
move off towards the shimmering breakers.
If you've never been to that kind of place
the beach seems to sweep on forever
it's a few miles that way,
and a few miles that way
and you really can't see it
thrugh the fog
wars below the waves
crabs eatting plankton
whatever they find
whatever they eat
what does it matter
when you have a sun burn
and no one has a blanket
and the seagul took your hot dog
and mommies off
somewhere
chasing birds.

might as well be chasing birds
she's not here at any other time either

And if the baby is sick that night
mom and dad are fighting
so older sister
has to go in and take her
prepare a bottle
carry her head carefully
mom and dad have closed the door for the night
and all the kids can hear
is the TV
don't bother knocking

Every time they go to the south coast beach
he knows a guy in Fall River
who, from back in the day,
he'd met on some sojourn from the river
in Haverhill
beside the flow
floods over
gets his stachel
and seagulls be damned
they can use
if they go into the new bathhouse
make sure to dispose of the needles

So it's the third of the month
and it's gotten too hard to care for the kids today
so they let 'mom' , or 'grammsie' come and get them
little angels
It's all good now
no body say anything
don't tell grams anything you saw.