Bulls Must Doze II
Core Torpor
Pain Baffles
It’s into a world of hurt we waken every morn,
to the time we go to dirt, from the moment born.
Screaming out into the light until our silent getaway,
wending way through war and fight, dark of night and blast of day.
Life is but a battleground, endless maps of conflagration,
blood its color, death its sound, nation pitted versus nation.
For the few there are good gods who baffle all this pain.
But none of us can beat the odds and in this world remain.
Lap Band
Scooter McQuail and the Faulkland Twins
had this one song they sang
with rosary beads in their mouths.
Sounded like angels with special needs.
And sometimes resulted in choking.
Well, one could see how this could be redefined
in devilish ways, and that, indeed, was the case,
and they became very popular.
One of the twins married Tree Vincent’s
lock-jawed son and a new percussion was born.
McQuail took up throat singing and was scooped
by a didgeridoo trio: sounded like a battle
of the painfully lap banded inside a cage of ham shanks.
R.I.P., A.G.Y.
Mother died today. And I am no Camus.
She danced along her way, begun in twenty-two.
A raving farm girl beauty, with rabbits in her yard,
and pledged to family duty, life later became hard.
A mother to her brother, who’d always be a child,
she jumped too soon at marriage, and that’s when things got wild.
She lived a whirlwind fantasy in fifties social scenes.
Her husband grew in power. They had fun and they had means.
But marriage cracked by loving lacked and someone had to fall.
She wound up in an institution, slave to alcohol.
Faith and pure determination put her back on track.
Father found her with the next door neighbor, in the sack.
Post divorce, she moved from city to a trailer park.
There she grew back into life, escaping from the dark.
She went back to school, acted in plays and modeled, too.
She took photographs which now expressed her lightened view.
She went back to church, went back to work and really flourished.
Old age gradually snuck in, but with her spirit nourished,
she remained a dignified and always loving presence.
Now she’s with the flowers, which have always been her essence.