Your Ride is Here

here is a list of facts i have told

you & was completely wrong

the sky is made of empty gestures

that dance with a kind of duende

and make the shadow of joy on the ground

we meet in places we cannot be found

with public service messages pinned to my sleeve

they appropriate the names of bands that

play the tourist in a garden of french accents

in my five year plans there are no years after

my confidence calls for a vote

and  is a decisive voice that repeats in my ear

it is philadelphia in the autumn

and the sky is made of falling objects

War Cry

babe, you have to let the pizza cool

when naming names just to be bellicose

despite the brides of dispossessed peddlers

who trades their trades in rough instances

in vain hope to invent the circuitry of the stars

that is present in circles somewhere in roshambo

you follow the guitar and expect rock

and the ticket is yours so there are no choices

any fool knows this human experience

but i am hostage to circus bears in vienna

and know nothing of the language here

dear marionettes, we cannot articulate

our needs properly sorted from our wants

we just wait until we think we beat the system