sip your streams

I want to walk again

in your mountains

sip your streams

sleep in the sky

stars falling all around

it is only the money

the distance

time sliding by

keeps me away

until once again

you will find me

walking slow in the clouds

no effort in the try

to discover my true self

& says the Jesus

the devil is waitin’

though where & when

is not clear yet

I guess the answer there

lies in the details

& the pastor told me

I can put off that day

his friend Jesus

he surrounds me

all I got to do

is surrender

take on the life

I should’ve taken

a long time ago

& all I ever wanted

was peace

some money

a place to rest my head

in living the devil

makes that easier

& says the Jesus

can look after me

maybe when I’m dead

Surrounded by

the fellas on the floor below

love the women on my floor

& the guys on my floor

love the women below

& me I’m lucky

none of the ladies

ever

want to know

I’m only here for the money

petit promises pensions bring

drinking & Saturday nights

there on the dance floor

sweating with my best girl

that & the stuff the bar sells

the only things that matter

makes my bell ring

get my juices flowing

sets my soul to sing

Salamanca

the last time I was here

I was younger brighter faster

like a tigger on heat

for you

becoming eeyore

as your truth shone through

I knew nothing of alcoholism then

though I loved to drink

becoming sadder

finding your empty bottles

your emptiness

where none of the history

the heat the light

meant nothing to your madness

need for the next glass

& all I became to you

was a means

money when you needed it

holder of booze as necessary

propping you up

support for your ends

only

into oblivion

come true

I heard them too clear

the way you do

when people begin ragging

all over you

he moved into the old mans house

knocked it about

tore down the ceilings

did all the things the old man

said he’d do but never did

bringing his outsider money to bear

& I wanted to argue

say it was not like that

I’d busted a gut get stuff done

place was a stinking mess

& then he’ll sell

make hisself a mint

move on to another town

& with that

they turned their backs

& did their best

to make their jibes

prophesies

come true

el dottore is in

Dr. Benstein suggests

that the patient

this writer

has compulsions obsessions

enough to sink a battleship

to put down the line

get shit out of his system

of which

the results are not always

beautiful to others

though they are pretty telling

of the id ego super ego

competing for space

in the imperfect man

yet there is potential

in his search for enlightenment

for some gestalt

but this

in itself

is no substitute

for a real job

earning money

da club

you know where it is

who goes

gets included

& know for sure

who gets through the door

& more importantly

that you won’t

not a question

of clothes manners money

more

are you one of them?

went to the right schools

colleges university

on the back of daddy’s

foundation family funds

in a line going back in history

the in crowd

made clear

because you

are not there